BENJEN III

"Farlen and the outriders came back late in the afternoon. They had not been able to caught the Queen and her boys, nor the wolves.

Farlen had brought close to his whole hunting pack of hounds, twelve of them, but they had been too slow to get out of the gates, and the wolves and horses had been faster.

"I'm sorry, m'lord", Farlen was saying. "We could not get ahold of them. They were already on their way."

Cersei was walking around next to him, fuming.

"A woman. And two young boys, one crippled, and the other aged three. And yet a dozen of our best dogs could not hunt them down? Are you hearing this, lord husband? Our kennelmaster is completely useless!"

Farlen looked sour at the comment, but held his tongue. Benjen looked to him.

"She has Ser Erryk and Ser Mandon with her as well. I am sure that they would be fast to help her.", he suggested, as a reason for the failure to capture them.

"Yes, m'lord", Farlen nodded urgently. "We got a hold of a piece of their cloaks, though. Tattered, it was, just a piece of it, but snowy white.

One of my bitches ran fast and must have gotten a hold of it, but then they cut her down. We found her lying on the ground not long after, by the trail of the horse hooves, in a pool of red blood."

Benjen could see the sadness in the kennelmaster's eyes as he told him of the fate of his poor hound.

"And they did took some three of our fastest horses from the stables", Hullen said as well.

Cersei agreed, but was quick to turn it against the master of horse.

"And how could they manage to do that?" She said accusingly. "Are you blind as well as deaf, Hullen?"

The big man looked ashamed at first, but then made for an explanation, if not an apology of sorts.

"I... M'lady, I... The Queen must have come in to the stables through the western door."

"And who is in charge for the western part of the stables, if not you?"

Hullen held his tongue for a bit, before replying.

"That would be... Mankan is, m'lady."

"Mankan..." Cersei looked disgusted by the information. "Take him here. I will speak to him."

"At once, m'lady", Hullen replied, as he bowed and made out for the stables to fetch the man.

Cersei did not stop upon hearing the name of the man who had failed her, however. She continued to question everyone and everything.

He could understand her, in truth. He had been almost as shocked as her that Catelyn would just take off without a word. He had told her that he could handle the wildlings.

But she was afraid of something else entirely, as well, he thought. She feared for the princes, most of all, of course, for Bran and little Rickon. She feared after the attempts on Bran, and for the posioner who was still unidentified. Benjen got a deep lump inside of him when he thought of it.

Steyna, one of the young maids of the castle, was the one who had brought it. But she could not have made the poison. It had come from Maester Luwin's chambers. He could not believe that Luwen would have ever tried to hurt the boy, but someone had gotten into his collection.

The maester himself could not say who it had been, or how it had happened. And so for two moons or more, Benjen found that he had a trouble sleeping at a night, as he lay thinking, turning and begrubbling the heinous act.

Who could have gotten into their castle? Was it someone from outside, or someone of their own people?

He had questioned the girl himself, as she was locked up. She was so young, and she did not look a killer to his eyes, but Cersei had often called him a fool for trusting people he should not.

She cried, and cried and cried again, and promised that she had no idea that the drink had been poisoned. He had felt after in his heart, and found that he had to believe her.

"Who gave you the tray?" He had asked then.

The girl had looked blank, terrified in her glistening face, wet with tears, as she stopped up for a moment and tried to think. It would not come to her. But then...

"One of the kitchen boys. The little thin one. Tinpot Tym", she said, as her fears sunk down a little.

Benjen had prayed to the old gods of winter to take him right then and there. Cursed and foul, this is...

Who would try and murder an innocent child? He supposed that he could believe it to be some old enemy of his brother, an enemy of the Starks, of King Eddard's crown, certainly, for a king always had such, no matter how just or peaceful his reign was, and Lord Jon Arryn had died suddenly of a fever that was something more.

Ned had told him all of as much, and they had spoken of it back and forth, but why up here? Why in their home? Why not in King's Landing? It would surely have been easier for anyone to posion the prince there? Or to cast him from a tower as well... Benjen thought, and shuddered at the thought.

And why Bran, of them all? Why not Prince Robb or Princess Sansa, if someone was after the king? Why not Ned himself? It was he who ruled, not his younger son. Was it simply meant to hurt him? Ben could not believe that anyone would hate his brother as much as that. Not even those he had fought against in his wars.

They would take him instead. They would try and poison the king, surely. Noone who was seeking vengeance towards King Eddard would surely go after his fourth child, of all, his secondborn son, noone, Benjen was sure. Not even-... Well... If not... If not...-

His mind shocked itself upon the notion, as he stared into the grey stone of Winterfell's walls.

A son for a son.

...

He had to hold himself against the carved direwolf handle of the throne to steady himself, as to not fall to the floor from the horrible realization. He felt the rough lines of the stone beast's raised fur, scratching at his skin, as he tried to get a grip of it.

He did not get much time for it, however, as a mere blink of an eye later, the suspicion was all but confirmed, as his lady wife turned her eyes, her all-knowing green eyes, to the point of his worry.

...

"And you, Theon?" She said to their young ward. "Couldn't you have caught them on your own?"

Benjen Stark had to stop himself inside of his own body not to cry out in that very moment, as he stared the sudden truth in its face, long black hair and dark eyes staring back at him.

Balon.

And he knew it to be true as soon as he though it.

But the world around him did not stop for it, not until he had issued a command about it, which he would not until he had proof. Instead, Cersei continued glaring at the boy, the boy who was so different and yet so very alike his father, as she demanded an explanation for why he had not been able to catch the prince.

"I tried", Theon said, keeping his head down in a stoney pose of half pride, half shame. "We all rode out. I went first."

Oh no, no no no, not Theon... Not Theon, the lad has done nothing himself.

But of course, of bloody course it was Theon, he then thought. Theon that the gods forced him to see. To sacrifice, whether he was guilty of his father's crimes or not.

There was noone else in the castle who he could have spared except his nineteen year-old ward. Theon Greyjoy...

...

His blood ran colder than usual as he pondered what he would have to do. The gods were sickeningly good and true in their justice, even though they were harshly cruel as well.

The boy was almost like a son to him, but he had purposefully prevented that from being entirely true, simply in case of this day somehow coming. And now it had come.

But Benjen would say nothing, do nothing, whether it was by his own heart's accord or by the laws of men, for he could not before he had something to prove it by. The servant girl, Steyna, she had told about Tinpot Tym...

And so, he had forced himself to go and ask little Tinpot Tym, but he had not told him why it was important to know.

He did not have to. The boy had heard the news of the prince's attempted intoxication, the same as most everyone else in the castle. And Tinpot Tym had answered that it was one of the kitchenmaids, of course, as usual. Who? Ben had asked. There were two dozen of them, at least. But the boy did not remember.

Theon... Theon Greyjoy, for the sake of his father... Or perhaps it truly was Balon's work, all by himself, but Benjen had barely had time to think of the idea before realizing how much sense it all would have made if it was Theon instead. For how would the old kraken's long arms stretch all the way from Pyke up to Winterfell without someone to act for him?

Balon. Greyjoy. His son. Theon. Kill the son of King Eddard. Kill Prince Brandon. For Maron and Rodrik.

Yes... It all made sense, horrifying to believe it as it was.

He was always flirting – and more than that – with the kitchen girls, having bedded at least two or three of them, Benjen was sure. A simple word to one of them, a mere persuasion, as they did not even have to know what sort of concoction he gave them... It would be a simple thing for him.

All for his older brothers, who had perished in battle in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Maron and Rodrik. Yes. For their deaths, now craved the death of Eddard Stark's sons as well.

…

Cersei's words threw him back to reality again, as she stared at him with her usual anger, though stronger than he had seen it in a long time.

"They stole away with our finest coursers!" She practically screamed at him, repeating it. "Will the lord of Winterfell do nothing? Will you not act, husband? Do anything?"

"What am I to do?" He shot back at her. "If Farlen and the hounds could not track them, then...-"

"Send them out again. Send out the whole bloody pack this time. She is dangerous, both to herself and to us."

"She is afraid", he told her. "Catelyn would never do anything against us. And neither would Ned, no matter what she told him. She knows that we have done our best to protect her sons", he lied to himself, and to all present in the hall.

"She is mad with grief", Cersei accentuated in her sternest voice. "You said so yourself, husband. And a mother will do anything to protect her children.

Believe me, husband... If we do not get a hold of her, and of our horses, she will either die in the woods or worse. And whatever the case, we will be laid to blame."

Benjen only stared at the image of his wife, so clear and yet sudden in her anger, and yet... She was right, he knew it in that moment.

He hoped that he could still trust in his good-sister, and in his brother most of all, but Cersei was true in what she said. A mother will stop at nothing to keep her children safe.

"The Wolfswood is a harsh place... " He said, out loud, not being able to think beyond that thought.

"They did not go into the Wolfswood, m'lord", Murch said. He was one of their best riders.

"She went along Lord Brandon's old trail in the eastern woods, and far beyond."

"Of course", Cersei said, as if she had already guessed it. "She will try and find her way south, then. You must write to our bannermen at once and stop her as soon as she arrives at the next keep."

"Calm yourself", Benjen felt forced to say.

The hall became somewhat more silent, at last, as men gathered about their things, tugged on their leather jerkins with nervous flickering motions, and looked around to see what the next man thought. Murch and Garris both lowered their spears to the ground and made to untie their chainmail, hastily put on when they had ridden out this morning.

He beheld his people, for a moment. His wife, in her upset state, his ward, Theon, whom he was no longer certain he could protect from his own blade, his closest men, Hal, Jekken, Fat Tom, Murch, Garris, Macks, Hullen, Farlen, and thought of those who were not present as well.

Mankan. Macks' father, and keeper of the stable's western gate. He had been the one to let the queen get in, if Hullen spoke the truth. He would inquire the man as soon as he could. But for now, a decision had to be made to show to his people.

"I will write to Moat Cailin at once", he promised, for everyone to hear, "and to the king as well. We shall help the Queen back here, and after that, we will safely and calmly escort her down south.

But I will not have disorder on my lands. We shall have her back, and help her to see reason. Ride out again, if you will, but not without reason. Ride out as far as you can, again if you will, and again and again. Make camp along the way for day after day if you so must, but do not hurt them when you find them. The knights of the Kingsguard are not to be trifled with lightly. And neither are their wolves."

"We managed to drag one down without much care", Clegane said gruffly.

"Nonetheless!" Benjen said, stern in his voice. "You will not hurt the wolves either, if you can keep yourselves from it. But most importantly, you will find them. And if you do not reach them in time, and stop them on their way, Moat Cailin will. "

He waited for another moment, giving time for his words to sink in to all the ears present in the hall.

"That is all I have to say at the moment", he finished, and made a motion for them all to leave.

Hullen stayed on, though, and Theon and some of the outriders as well, meanwhile Benjen sighed and buried his hands between his palms for a short moment, and Cersei leaned up against him.

"Moat Cailin?" She said, quietly, with resentment in her voice, only a moment after the last of the hunting party had left the hall.

"Yes, my lady. Moat Cailin. Where else to? Torrhen's Square?" He said, his patience running thin.

He steadied his head up, to look at her. Even in this moment, when he was angry at her for interrupting his council in front of his people, she was still so beautiful. Her eyes shone green with the cunningness of a lioness, as she told him her thoughts.

"Theon. You may go", he made the time to tell the lad, before Cersei said the next word.

"Yes, my lord. My lady", Theon said, bowing as he made for the exit of the hall, still ashamed at having failed in the pursuit after the queen.

Benjen waited for a good many moments after the Greyjoy was out of the hall, before turning to Cersei again.

"Then where, wife?" He repeated his question again. "She will never survive for more than five days alone in the woods at any rate."

"She might", Cersei countered. "They have the wolves with them, to hunt for prey. And her kingsguards, to build her fires and shelter, and keep them warm, and to fight off pursuers and beasts alike."

"So be it. Perhaps she can. It is of no consequence, if we send out more riders", he sighed. "We will find her within three days, at the most. And she should pray for the haleness of her sons that we do."

"Nonetheless..." Cersei said again. "She will not ride towards Moat Cailin."

"Why ever not?" He insisted. "She wants to get back to King's Landing. To my brother, and her other children. To her home in the south."

Cersei shook her head, an elegant swaying motion of golden curls, even here and now, in her fret and disturbled state.

"She will never be so stupid as to go down the way she came", Cersei said. "She is a Tully. She fears the bogmen in their moving swamps, and their green spells of the forest. She told me as much herself. Even though I knew it well before. … No, husband. She will not go for Moat Cailin."

He leaned in to her, close by, almost to kiss her, or perhaps to bite at her with his words.

"No, my sweet wife...?" He asked her, close to whispering.

"No, sweet husband", she affirmed. "There is only one place for her where she could go now. She is heading right in the obvious direction, for those who have wits to listen, and to see."

"Where, then? … Where...?"

Cersei gathered up her sleeves, as she took a steady look at him, in her refusal to believe how he could be so stupid. Her disappointment in him was always felt strongly, but never more so than now. Still, he cared for her advice, and knew that at times she was the wisest in matters like this.

"...To White Harbour, lord husband", Cersei said. "… That is where-to our ravens must fly."