Theon
The arrow thunked into the centre of the target and Theon looked over at old Ser Rodrik, who was pursing his lips slightly in thought. Then the old man sniffed mightily and then nodded slightly. "Good enough," he said gruffly, which coming from him was a compliment of the highest order. "Keep practicing, lad. Time might come when you'll need that bow in anger." And then he swept away to talk to Maester Luwin, who was waiting with the blacksmith.

"I wish I could loose an arrow like that," piped Bran next to him. The Pup's latest efforts were still all over the place.

Theon looked down at him with a small smile, before relenting. "You'll get better," he admitted. "It took me time to get that good. Takes a lot of practice."

Bran nodded mournfully, before looking back up. "Theon, what's wrong with Robb?"

He snorted, plucked another arrow out of the quiver and then sent it into the target. "Don't ask me, I'm just his friend, or at least I thought I was. You're his brother – haven't you talked him these past ten days? Because all he seems to do is prowl around and hide in the Godswood when he thinks that no-one else is in it."

The boy wilted. "That's what he does to everyone – Mother, Father, Jon, Sansa, Arya, even me. It's like he's hiding from us. Did something happen to him?"

Theon frowned. "No. That was the day after we got some ale from, erm, never mind that part, your mother wouldn't like you to hear that part. I don't remember him hitting his head or anything. And then the next morning he reels in like he was still drunk and… I don't know Bran. I wish I could help, but he just won't talk to me."

"He's talked to me." Theon and Bran both whirled around to see Lord Stark approaching on quiet feet. "He'll talk to you soon. He's been… thinking through something very important. Robb's a good lad – he takes things very seriously. And it seems that I've been neglecting part of his education. He'll be spending less time here in the practice yard and more time with me in my solar, learning how to run the North."

Bran perked up a little at this and then ran off to tell the watching Arya, who was sulking next to their mother, who was talking to one of the servants. Theon watched him go and then looked back at Lord Stark, who was inspecting the results of his archery practice. "Not bad at all. Tight grouping. We need to take you hunting again lad." And then he looked at Theon and there was something about his gaze that made him feel a bit uneasy. "You've been here for eight years now Theon. Do mind if I ask you a question?"

"Of course not Lord Stark."

"What do you remember of Pyke? Of your father?"

Theon blinked at the question. "I… remember it. Pyke that is. I remember… the smell of it." Yes, that was hard to forget. "How tall the towers were. It was strong." He said the last words with a hint of defiance.

Lord Stark's gaze flickered to the towers of Winterfell. "Towers always are taller to young boys than to man," he said enigmatically. "And your father?"

This was a darker subject and Theon looked at the flagstones under his feet for a long moment as he remembered the striding man who cursed at everyone and who never had time for a small boy. "He was… always busy," he muttered. "He was fighting a war against you and… I seldom saw him."

Lord Stark looked at him, a long and steady gaze that seemed to peer deeply into his very soul. He'd never been the subject of one of Lord Stark's famous gazes, not really, and he quivered with uncertainty. And then the older man stirred and smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "One day you will be ruler on Pyke. And when that day comes you'll know what it's like to made decisions that affect a great many people – and it's hard. Any man who says it isn't is a liar. It's hard.

"Now, your father's way of command is very different from mine. Ironborn traditions… are not of the North, and there was a reason for that war that your father fought. A reason why so many fought against him. You need to realise that last part. But times change and men change with them. Making that change happen is difficult. I hope that you'll always be welcome here in Winterfell. Robb is learning to rule the North. If I can help you, if I can give you advice about what it will be like when you one day return to Pyke and step out of the shadow of your father, the way that Robb will one day have to step out of mine, then the door to my solar is always open to you." He paused and then laid a hand on his shoulder again. "You have been like a son to me. You know that don't you?"

Something eased within him, somewhere in his heart, a tension that he had not known was there. "Thank you Lord Stark," he said thickly. "That means much to me."

"Good. Now – back to your practice, or Ser Rodrik will chastise me for distracting you. Where'd Bran go?"

Theon turned and smiled. "Off to see Lady Stark."

"Well, at least he's not climbing the walls," Lord Stark said with a frown. "Theon, if you see him climbing tell him, in my name, to climb back down and stay down will you?"

"I will, but I doubt it will stop him. He's like a squirrel at times."

"Even a squirrel can fall." And with those worried words the Lord of Winterfell strode off. Theon watched him go with a look of total seriousness. There was a man to admire.