Chapter 1 The Wolf and the Octopus

Catelyn Tully, now married into the Stark family, was beginning to grow exasperated. Her son refused to listen to reason. At first, she feared that his appearance, with the reddish Tully hair, would make it harder for his rough vassals to accept him as a Stark. But as for his character, there was no doubt: he was as stubborn as all the men of the North. Almost all of them. Ned, truth be told, was the exception. She sighed. She missed her husband more and more each day.

"It's pointless to insist, Mother. I won't change my mind. I've already told you, I trust Theon as if he were one of my brothers."

"But Theon is NOT one of your brothers!" Lady Stark exclaimed, exasperated. "He is the son of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands! An enemy of the Seven Kingdoms, who launched a disastrous rebellion ten years ago, and the only reason he still has his head on his shoulders is because of Robert Baratheon's clemency."

"Theon isn't his father, though. He was raised with us at Winterfell."

"Yes, as a hostage. But that's not the point. Theon may well be loyal to you, but his father is not. He has no reason to obey you. The only leverage we have over him is Theon himself. Once you give him back, he'll have no reason to ally with you. He'll start sending his men to raid wherever he pleases, taking advantage of the war."

"If I return Theon, I'll have proven my good faith. I understand he has no reason to trust me—after all, the Starks have fought the Ironborn for centuries. But the alliance I'm proposing is advantageous to him, too. If he attacks the western coast and sacks Lannisport, he'll gain great spoils while keeping our enemies occupied, attacked on multiple fronts. It will make it easier for me to flush Tywin Lannister out of Harrenhal, forcing him to come out and protect his lands."

"Then promise him you'll return Theon after he's done all of that, not before! If you give him back beforehand, you'll have no guarantee that he'll keep to the terms. Why would he attack Lannisport, so well defended, when he could go further south and raid the coasts of the Reach, which are nearly undefended, as their troops have all gone east to support Renly? In his position, wouldn't you?"

Robb hesitated. "I... I would honor the agreement. I am a man of honor."

"Yes, but Balon Greyjoy is NOT."

Robb sighed, irritated by his mother's persistence. He was a grown man. He had won battles against the Lannisters, his vassals respected him...they even elected him King in the North and the Riverlands. he couldn't stand having his decisions questioned as if he were still a boy.

Catelyn noticed the growing distance between them and moved closer, reaching out to touch his face, her eyes pleading.

"Robb... PLEASE, Robb, listen to me! I'm not speaking to undermine you—I'm your mother! I'm speaking to help you! Unfortunately, the only advantage of age is experience. And while you've already proven to be an excellent commander on the battlefield, you don't yet have the experience to judge people. Not yet. Trust me when I say that your sense of honor is admirable, but you cannot assume that everyone else shares it. Think of what happened to your father. His only mistake was trusting..."

Robb snapped. "Yes, trusting YOU! When you told him to trust Littlefinger, who then betrayed him and handed him over to the Lannisters! Perhaps your judgment of people is a little clouded, Mother. The discussion is over."

The young wolf turned his back on her and left the tent.

Catelyn sat on a sack in the women's tent, staring at the ground, deep in thought. She was losing the trust of her eldest son, and worse, she realized it was her own fault. In the past months, with her family under attack, she had decided to act and, she now understood, had made mistakes. MANY mistakes. The reference to her responsibility in Ned's capture hurt her deeply. Knowing that her son held her responsible...

She shook herself. It was true, she had erred. But she was CERTAIN she wasn't wrong about Balon Greyjoy. It would be safer to trust a venomous snake than that old kraken. But how could she make Robb understand?

Just then, noticing her distress, one of the women weaving in the tent spoke to her.

"Is something wrong, my lady?"

Catelyn turned to look at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh? Yes, quite a few things are wrong, Myrella. My son is growing up, but I still see him as an inexperienced wolf pup. It's terrible to watch those you love head down a dead-end path without being able to stop them. But he's Lord of Winterfell now. I suppose I must start getting used to the idea."

Myrella gave her Lady a sympathetic look before resuming her weaving and said, "I understand you, Lady Stark. My children do whatever they want as well."

Catelyn smiled at her, grateful for the distraction, and asked, "You have children, Myrella? How many? And where are they now?"

"Two. A boy and a girl. I left them with their grandmother at Deepwood Motte. The older one, Jory… he must be four by now, and little Alyn is two."

Catelyn grew pensive again. I've been in this tent with these women for months, and I didn't know Myrella had children. Gods, what am I becoming? Ever since this whole affair began, I can't think of anything but…

"Anyway," Myrella continued, with a bit more boldness, seeing that her Lady was interested in her, "if I may say so, Lady Stark… sometimes, to help those we love realize they are wrong, we don't always need to oppose them."

"What do you mean?" Catelyn asked, intrigued. "How do you handle it when little Jory throws a tantrum?" She didn't expect to get any real advice; she was simply making conversation, mother to mother.

"Well… for example, before I left, little Jory was determined to jump over a ditch that was a meter wide, about two hundred meters from our house. We had always forbidden him because it was dangerous, but he wanted to prove he could do it, so he kept running off to try. We couldn't keep going like that, so I told him, 'Jory, if you really think you can do it, show us. Jump over this other ditch, half a meter wide, right in front of the house. If you succeed, we won't say anything, and we'll let you try the other one.'"

The Lady of Winterfell smiled. If only all problems were like this one. "Did he manage?"

Myrella nearly burst out laughing. "Jump over the half-meter ditch? Of course not. He got covered in mud and started crying. But after that, he stopped insisting on trying to jump over the bigger one."

"What I'm trying to say," she continued as her Lady took a deep breath, "is that if we had kept fighting him, we wouldn't have gotten anywhere. Jory needed to figure out for himself that he was wrong. By letting him do what he wanted, but in more controlled conditions, so to speak, we managed to save both sides of the issue."

Catelyn Tully, widow Stark, felt as if she had been struck by lightning.

She's right. She's absolutely right.

She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the exit of the tent.

But before stepping out, she gave Myrella a grateful look. "Thank you, Myrella. You may not realize it, but you might have just helped us win the war."

Catelyn walked briskly, trying to keep up with her uncle, Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, as they hurried toward Robb's tent for a meeting.

"So, you agree with me, Uncle? You'll support me?"

"Aye, Cat, I will. I know how treacherous that kraken is, and I wouldn't want my nephew caught in its grasp."

When they arrived at the tent, Robb was alone. He looked up from the map of the Seven Kingdoms when he saw his mother. Uncle Brynden remained at the entrance.

"Mother! I… I need to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to say…"

Catelyn rushed to him and took his hands in hers. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Robb. You're under pressure—we all are. And the gods know there are things I tell myself every day that I wish I had done differently. Starting with capturing the Imp and starting this war."

"That's not true, Mother. Once the Lannisters imprisoned Father, who had discovered Joffrey's true identity and Jon Arryn's murder, the war would have started anyway. It was only a matter of time."

"Yes, but the past is the past, Robb. We have to look to the future. I know you've become a man, and I don't want to challenge your authority. But promise me, just promise me that you will at least listen to the advice I want to give you before making a final decision."

"I… I promise, Mother."

The war council began shortly after all the available commanders had arrived. Besides Robb, Brynden, and Cat, present were Dacey Mormont, the fierce warrior from Bear Island who served in Robb's personal guard; Greatjon Umber and his son Smalljon; Garbart Glover; Rickard Karstark; Helman Tallhart; and Roose Bolton. From the Riverlands, Jason Mallister, Marq Piper, and Edmure Tully himself had come. Theon Greyjoy stood two steps behind Robb, head lowered.

"My commanders! I've gathered you here to make an important decision. As you know, I have sent a peace proposal to Queen Cersei Lannister, but I hold little hope that it will be accepted. Her brother—and if we are to believe Stannis Baratheon's letter, the true father of her children, her brother Jaime—is our prisoner, while Lord Tywin has barricaded himself inside Harrenhal, making it extremely difficult to root him out.

My plan is to force him to come out: we will directly attack the Westerlands. We will take our armies and bring fire and destruction to his lands, just as the Lannisters have done to the Riverlands."

A chorus of admiring reactions greeted this bold plan.

"But for the plan to be more successful," Robb continued, "we will need the support of a fleet. The Lannisters have at least sixty ships in Lannisport, and at worst, they could evacuate the population into Casterly Rock. Therefore, I have decided to seek the help of Balon Greyjoy to unleash the Iron Fleet against them from the sea, attacking from two fronts. To secure the Old Kraken's support, I will promise to recognize the independence of the Iron Islands from the Iron Throne, and I will return his son, Theon, who has been our hostage until now."

This part of the speech was met with less enthusiasm. A cacophony of shouts and speeches, both for and against, erupted, and soon the lords were debating among themselves. Most, however, were doubtful. Robb sighed. He knew it wasn't easy to command the respect of the rough Northern lords and the quarrelsome Riverlords. That's when Cat spoke up, raising her hand to restore silence. Everyone held a certain reverence for Eddard Stark's widow.

"My lords, your doubts are also mine. Not so much about Theon, who grew up beside my Robb at Winterfell"—and here she gave Robb a meaningful glance to appease him—"but more about Balon Greyjoy himself, who has proven treacherous and unreliable in the past."

"You can't trust the Old Kraken!" Jason Mallister emphasized.

"The Ironborn have attacked our coasts for millennia!" roared Greatjon Umber. "Robert Baratheon should've wiped them all out last time!"

"That's why," Cat continued patiently, "I implore my son. If you truly believe in this plan—and your instincts have led us to victory before—then proceed. But do not trust Balon Greyjoy blindly, without guarantees. Send him a raven, arrange a meeting. You could do it here"-she pointed to a spot on the map, along the coast in the Blackwood region, halfway between Riverrun and the Iron Islands—"with the condition that each of you brings only a limited number of escorts, say fifty guards each. Ask him to come in person, and bring Theon with you. Speak to him, look him in the eyes. And if in your heart you are convinced you can trust him, then seal the pact and return Theon to him so he can go back to the Iron Islands with them. But if you aren't convinced, you'll still have time to withdraw. The whole operation will take no more than a week. What do you say?"

Robb looked around, bewildered. He hadn't expected this proposal from his mother, but he had no strong arguments to refuse it. His lords seemed appeased, as if they didn't mind the idea. He lowered his gaze.

"Alright, we'll do it that way."

A few days later, Robb was on the beach, waiting for Balon Greyjoy's landing. Three longships had anchored two hundred meters from shore, and boats had been lowered, approaching them.

Beside Robb stood Theon—visibly excited—Dacey Mormont, Smalljon Umber (it had been decided to leave Greatjon in camp due to his fiery temper), Garbart Glover, and Brynden Tully, along with fifty armed men.

When the Ironborn disembarked, Robb noticed that many of them were dirty, rough, dressed in coarse cloth and boiled leather armor, with faces weathered by sun and salt. It wasn't hard to recognize the Kraken. Balon Greyjoy wore a long tunic, had sparse, long gray hair, and a kind of crown on his head made of intertwined wood. Beside him was a girl, not pretty, with a defiant air, two axes hanging from her belt, and several daggers tucked into their sheaths.

Theon gasped when he saw his father, but he was momentarily bewildered when he noticed the girl.

When the Lord of the Iron Islands stood before them, Robb greeted him. "Greetings, Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands and King of the Sea. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Riverlands, greets you."

Theon knelt respectfully. "Greetings, Father. Not a day passed during my captivity when I did not hope to see you again."

Balon looked him over with an indecipherable expression. Then he turned to Robb.

"And who is this little girl you have with you, Young Wolf? Certainly not my son. I gave your father, Eddard Stark, a boy as a hostage. He was supposed to make him a man. His sister Yara here... she may not have a cock, but she's twice the man he is." The Ironborn laughed.

Theon stood, hurt and confused. "My... sister Yara?"

The girl shot him an amused glance. "Hello, little brother."

Robb was unsettled that things hadn't started on the right foot, but he tried to press on.

"I requested this meeting to make you an offer, one that benefits us both. Use the mighty Iron Fleet—the largest in the Seven Kingdoms—to attack the Lannisters, our enemies in this war. You've done it before, ten years ago, and they couldn't resist you. Sack Lannisport—you can keep all the spoils—and threaten Casterly Rock itself. Tywin Lannister will be forced to return to his lands to protect them, and we will trap him.

In return, as a sign of goodwill, I will return Theon—he can sail back to Pyke with you today if you agree—and I will recognize your crown and the independence of the Iron Islands from the Seven Kingdoms. What do you think?"

Yara's face lit up, seemingly interested in the idea.

Balon Greyjoy, however, stared at Robb for a long moment. Then he burst into laughter, a loud, unpleasant laugh.

"And who are YOU, Young Wolf, to recognize ME, Balon Greyjoy, as King of the Sea? Do you think we on the Iron Islands are weaklings like you on the mainland? That we beg for anyone's approval? When we want something, we take it! 'WE DO NOT SOW' is our motto, and we will continue to live by it, as long as I am king."

Robb was confused. "But... this offer benefits both of us..."

"AH! Beneficial! I decide what is beneficial for us. And it is certainly not allying with the damned Starks, who ravaged my city and killed two of my sons! Go find some other lapdogs to run to your whistle, Young Wolf… we are Krakens, and we belong only to the sea."

Theon tried to intervene.

"Father! The offer King Robb is making you is the best chance you'll get in this war! The Lannister gold... freedom from the Iron Throne's yoke... and then... I could return to live with you... Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Balon stared at him with contempt. "A Greyjoy does NOT BEG. An Ironborn does NOT ASK others for what he wants; HE TAKES IT. I hoped that Eddard Stark's influence, damn him to the Drowned God, hadn't ruined you, but what I see here before me is not a kraken. It's a wolf."

Balon spat in Theon's face.

"You are not my son." And with that, he turned and walked back to the boats, leaving Yara shocked. She cast a glance at the Wolves' group before following him.

Robb's retinue was furious, their hands on their swords, but a gesture from their King stopped them. Theon stood trembling, humiliated and crushed.

A few days later, back at the camp, Robb was still mulling over what had happened. The entire scene made no sense to him. He knew he wasn't the best diplomat—he felt more comfortable in front of a map, planning strategies, or on horseback rallying his men—but he was certain he hadn't insulted the old man in any way. So, why the refusal?

His mother watched him from the tent's entrance, her expression sad. Robb noticed her.

"Have you come to say, 'I told you so'?"

"You're being unfair, Robb. You know I always hoped for your success," Catelyn said, approaching him, "but at the same time, as clever as you are, there are many things in this world you have yet to consider.

One of them is that not everything happens logically. As you grow older, you'll witness many things happen without rhyme or reason, as if the gods themselves play dice with us mortals. A man who believes he can control everything like a game of chess thinks he is wise, but he is truly a fool.

Yet the truly wise man is one who learns from his mistakes, knowing when to decide on his own and when to ask for help. It's a necessary trait... for a king."

Robb embraced her tightly.

When they broke from the embrace, Catelyn looked him in the eye. "Now, go. Go comfort your friend. From what my uncle Brynden told me, he needs it. The Blackfish never liked Theon, but even he confessed he had an urge to slit Balon Greyjoy's throat right there, listening to him."

"That's just it. I don't know what to say to him."

"I'm sure you'll find the right words."

Robb approached Theon's tent and made sure he was alone. Their ward often kept the company of whores or free women he easily seduced, but there were none present this time. It wasn't hard to guess why he didn't want to be seen by any woman at that moment—Theon was crying.

Robb assumed he wouldn't want him to see him like that either. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, it's you. Go ahead, come in, King in the North. There's no reason you shouldn't see such a worthless sight, the rejected son of the great Kraken King, Balon Greyjoy," Theon spat out bitterly through his pain.

Robb moved closer. "Theon, I can't imagine what you're going through, and I'm truly sorry. More than I can express in words. Your father… I hate to say it, but he's a complete fool."

Theon unleashed his frustration. "I don't understand what he wants from me! I've done nothing to disappoint him! HE was the one who rebelled against the Iron Throne, thinking he could win against all Seven Kingdoms! It was HIS war that killed my brothers. It was HIS pride that made me your hostage… and now… he complains that I'm not like them? What did he expect?!"

Robb didn't know what to say. "I… I'm sorry. I guess there are just people like that. If I had known… I'd never have made them that offer."

Theon seemed to calm down and sat on the ground. "You know, Robb, you… you're lucky, despite everything. Even though your father is dead... you know he loved you. That he was proud of you. You'll always have that to remember him by."

Robb was struck by his words. "I'm not sure, you know. Would he really be proud of me? I hope so... I'm winning battles, I've been crowned King in the North... and yet we're no closer to peace than we were months ago. I've been arrogant lately. Every decision I made turned out right... so I began to think I was infallible. But the crown is a burden, Theon, one I never wanted. My bannermen thrust it upon me, and now I must prove worthy of it. But now I realize we are always just one wrong decision away from catastrophe. I avoided a major mistake thanks to my mother, but a man, a king, cannot depend on a woman forever. What if the next decision I make is wrong? What if we all die because of another error in judgment? Sometimes I wonder… what would my father do in my place?"

Theon looked at him and smiled. "You know, Robb, when they overthrew the Mad King, your father and Robert Baratheon were twenty. The same age you are now. And he, too, had lost his father and brother in tragic circumstances and didn't expect the responsibility of leadership to fall on him. You've always known Eddard Stark as a great, wise, infallible Lord... yet there must have been a time when he was a scared, uncertain boy, just like you are now. And yet, it was in that moment that he achieved his greatest triumphs."

Robb gazed at him for a long moment.

"Thank you, Theon. I needed to hear that. And... I'm sorry. I came here to comfort you… but instead, you're the one comforting me.
You... you really are a good friend.
In fact… now that I think about it, even my father didn't face everything alone. He had Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, and Hoster Tully with him. And I, too, have allies by my side. But if I don't have enough… I'll need to find more."

Theon smiled at him, though it was a bitter smile.

"I'm sure you'll succeed, Robb Stark. Some men are destined for great things. Others… well, maybe we're not destined for greatness ourselves, but we can help the first achieve it. Maybe that's my true role. And for what it's worth… I think Lord Eddard would be proud of you."

Robb looked at him gratefully but with a curious expression. "Well, and how do YOU know what my father would think?"

"Because, for me too, he was more of a father than Balon ever was," Theon admitted, his words spilling out all at once.

Robb stared at him for a long moment, then embraced him.

As he was leaving the tent, however, Theon called out to him, as if struck by a sudden idea.

"Robb! WAIT! There's… there's something I've been thinking about for a few days now. My father's behavior… his words… I… I don't think they were random. I was just a child, but I remember he acted the same way when he decided to attack Lannisport, ten years ago. And that mention of my brothers, killed by the Starks... I think… I think that…"

"What are you saying, Theon? You don't mean to suggest that…?"

"It's very likely. You've seen how he behaves! He doesn't think rationally. Right now, I don't believe he cares as much about plunder as he does about revenge! And he's also a coward! He won't attack Lannisport, well defended by the Lannister fleet... nor the Reach, protected by the Redwyne fleet... I think… he's planning to take advantage of our presence here to attack the North!"

Robb stormed into his tent like a thunderbolt, where his commanders were rushing in for an emergency council. Only Roose Bolton was missing, as he had been sent to scout around Harrenhal, trying to counter Vargo Hoat's mercenaries who were attacking their supply lines.

"I've been a fool!" the King in the North began, facing his bewildered vassals. "I overlooked something crucial!"

"And what would that be, my lord?" asked Lord Piper.

"THE FLEET! The reason I made that proposal to Balon Greyjoy is that the North doesn't have one! Not since the days of Brandon the Burner."
"Aye," confirmed his uncle Edmure. "And the Riverlands haven't had one since the Ironborn of Harren the Black dominated us, before Aegon's Conquest. And so?"

"And so," Robb continued, irritated, "ALL our enemies have one: the Lannisters have sixty galleys in Lannisport. Stannis Baratheon controls both the royal fleet and that of Storm's End, about two hundred ships in total."

"I see what you mean," Brynden interjected. "And the Redwyne fleet has around three hundred ships, though they can't use them as long as Lord Paxter's sons are held hostage in King's Landing."

"Exactly. And since that idiot Balon rejected my offer—may the Others take him—the eight hundred longships of the Greyjoys are out of the picture. Which means—"

The tent fell deathly silent, all waiting to see where the Young Wolf was going with this.

"—that the North would be defenseless in the case of a seaborne attack! I'm surprised our enemies haven't already thought of it."

An echo of worried exclamations followed his statement.

"How did this idea come to you, my lord?" asked Dacey Mormont.

"It was Theon's idea. He believes… he believes that Balon rejected my proposal because he actually intends to attack us. To avenge the last war."

This time the tent erupted into chaos. Most were curses aimed at the Greyjoys.

"ENOUGH!" boomed the voice of Greatjon Umber. "Let our King speak!"

"I realize it's only a suspicion, but we can't ignore this possibility. We're hundreds of miles from the North, fighting a war against the Lannisters. If something happened… we wouldn't be able to respond."

"But, my lord, the North is vast, and there are few coastal cities. Aside from White Harbor, which is on the opposite shore," Garbart Glover pointed out.

"That's true, Lord Glover, but on the western side, there are many rivers that run deep into the land. In the past, the Ironborn used to sail up them for their raids. They could do it again."

Catelyn's heart skipped a beat. Even Winterfell wasn't safe. Bran and Rickon were there, alone… she wanted to weep.

"We've only brought half of our total forces south, those we could muster quickly," Greatjon observed. "We could send ravens and order garrisons to be stationed."

"Forgive me, my lord, but now is the most opportune moment," Lord Tallhart interrupted, pulling a scroll from his garments. "This message arrived half an hour ago. I would have presented it to you immediately, but you summoned us first. It's from Hornwood. It seems the Widow Hornwood has been… abducted by bandits. Two to three hundred mounted raiders are terrorizing the area. Their leader is a mysterious figure clad in red armor."

That was the final straw. The tent exploded again, but this time the outburst of curses, shouted proposals, and mutual accusations seemed impossible to stop.

Catelyn, however, noticed a fierce glint flash in Robb's eyes. As if in response, Grey Wind leaped onto the table, forepaws planted firmly, baring his teeth and snarling. Everyone gasped in terror and jumped back, instantly silencing.

Robb began stroking the head of his direwolf, slowly.

"THANK YOU, MY LORDS," he said acidly, annoyed by yet another display of unruliness. "I agree the situation is dire. We came south to free my father and to save the Riverlands, and so far, we've done neither. We were rightly proud of our victories, but we've also made mistakes. We were arrogant, thinking the North was safe, protected by the swamps of the Neck. And while we plan to lure Tywin out by attacking his lands, others might do the same to us. Perhaps, however, there is still time to fix things."

Robb quickly did some mental calculations and then said:

"Someone take note! We will send more than one raven with a series of orders to Rodrick Cassel, the master-at-arms of Winterfell. I will command him to raise, as quickly as possible… let's say five thousand more men.

One thousand will be regular armsmen, half of whom we'll send to Winterfell to protect my brothers, and the other half to Moat Cailin."

Catelyn shot him a grateful look.

"Then we'll send ravens to Howland Reed, my father's best friend, who has yet to answer our initial call," Robb said through gritted teeth, doubting his own words. "We'll ask him to gather at least five hundred archers among his people.
The Crannogmen are experts in guerrilla warfare and use poisoned arrows. Half of them will defend the swamps of the Neck, where they already live, while the other half will station themselves along the western rivers, alongside three hundred hunters from the lands of the Ryswells, Dustins, Glovers, and Tallharts, to fend off any potential Ironborn attacks from that direction."

Now, everyone listened, admiring the King in the North as he proved worthy of his title.

"As for this Red Armor, Rodrick Cassel himself will lead FIVE HUNDRED cavalry to hunt him down, free Lady Hornwood, and then hang him. Lady Hornwood is a Manderly, so they will be recruited from Stark, Cerwyn, Hornwood, and Manderly lands. Lastly—"

At this point, not a single sound could be heard.

"We will send ravens to Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor: I want five hundred skilled shipbuilders put to work at once to build at least thirty-five longships, and fifteen hundred men to starting be trained in naval warfare. For the first time after eight thousand years, the North will have a fleet!"