Leaning on the railing of the guest room's second floor, Arya looked out over the busy Winterfell courtyard.
She had hoped it was all just a bad dream, but unfortunately, she had awoken to find it was all real.
The gates were wide open, with frightened townsfolk flooding in. Soldiers in mismatched armor rushed about, organizing defenses. On the castle training grounds, where the standing army usually drilled, countless n, won, and children were unloading baggage, setting up tents, and settling down in so semblance of order under the guidance of guards.
It was Winter, and the Winter Town outside the walls housed tens of thousands who had clustered together to survive the cold. When word ca of the Gift army marching south, everyone's first instinct was to rush into the castle for refuge. But the Stark stronghold could not possibly shelter so many people. After consulting with the Lord, the garrison implented a divided arrangent. Most of those still able to walk were sent toward Seven City and Torrhen's Square, where those Houses would make other accommodations. The elderly, infirm, and skilled workers or able-bodied youths who could aid in the defense were allowed into the castle for temporary shelter.
To house as many people as possible, the guards made use of every last inch of space within the walls. Even the Stark children, at Robb's request, temporarily gave up their private bedrooms and shared quarters with their siblings.
Yet, compared to the slight frustration of having to share a bed with Sansa, what Arya truly felt at this mont was a deep, simring humiliation and anger.
Weeks ago, when she heard in Crown Town that Aegor had sworn allegiance to the Mad King's daughter, she had been so furious she swore never to speak to that liar again. But her temper passed quickly. After returning safely to Winterfell and spending a few peaceful, dull days, Arya had begun to defend him again in her mind. Perhaps she had misunderstood her teacher. Maybe he had only pretended loyalty to deceive the Mad King's daughter into using her dragons to fight the dead. Once the war ended, he would cast her aside just as he had promised Arya, and remain the good Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the loyal guardian of the Seven Kingdoms, and a faithful friend to House Stark.
In her strangely wired mind, she had even imagined how she would accept his apology with reluctant grace, forgiving him in the end. As a condition, she would make him break off her engagent at once, na her the first female mber of the Night's Watch... and take her to travel the world.
Arya could never have imagined that before any of those imagined scenes could co to pass, she would receive news that Aegor had led an army of Wildlings to rebel and was marching straight for Winterfell.
Unlike Robb or Ser Rodrik or Clay Cerwyn or the other n in the hall, she was not thinking about "how to defend Winterfell," "how to handle potential dragons," or "how to suppress this Night's Watch rebellion." Her first thought was this: had all of Aegor's kindness, protection, and companionship over the years been nothing but a lie? Had he only pretended for the sake of reaching this mont?
Was she just a botherso child, granted a shred of attention only because she was a Stark? And now, with a woman of greater status and value in the picture, was she the one to be discarded?
Margaery Tyrell, her old friend from King's Landing, had ended up poisoning her own father. Now the man closest to her besides her father and brothers had raised his sword against their family. Could it be that she was cursed from birth to bring ruin upon her kin?
With her thoughts running wild, feeling both betrayed and dood, Arya grew more and more aggrieved. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Blinking hard, she swore not to let them fall. She was a Stark of Winterfell, one of the finest female sword fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. For those who lied to her and hurt her, she would respond with steel, not tears. The next ti she saw that man, she would make sure he rembered just how sharp Needle was.
After sniffing and composing herself, Arya spotted Maester Luwin hurrying from his tower, crossing the training grounds toward the main keep.
Had sothing new happened?
Aegor was still dozens of miles away. As much as she wanted to stab him right now, the truth was, she had nothing to do at the mont. After a mont's thought, she left the railing, darted down the stairs with rapid footsteps, crossed the yard, and caught up with the Maester.
"Maester Luwin, is there new news from the North?"
She desperately hoped he would tell her it had all been a misunderstanding, and that Aegor was still dutifully serving as Lord Commander. But the old man glanced at her and shook his head.
"Not from the North, from the East."
"What is it?"
Maester Luwin sighed. "Arya, at tis like this, a good child should stay in her chambers and not run about. The castle is crowded and complicated right now. It's not entirely safe."
"But I want to help!"
The Maester said nothing more and kept walking toward the keep, climbing the steps to the main hall where guards were posted.
Maester Luwin had served Winterfell for more than twenty years. He had watched every young person in the castle grow up. So while the two guards reached out to block his way, they still spoke to him with respect.
"Maester Luwin, the Lords are in council discussing the war. They've ordered no interruptions."
"I have urgent news from Dreadfort. It's related to the war."
If the Maester responsible for Winterfell's ravens said the news was important, then it was. The guards didn't hesitate. One turned and knocked on the great door.
"Lord Robb, Maester Luwin requests an audience. He says he brings urgent news from Dreadfort."
Robb's voice ca quickly from inside, granting permission. The doors opened, and Arya slipped in through the gap beside the Maester.
"Arya, what are you doing here?"
"I... just want to listen. I promise I won't interrupt."
Robb frowned at his little sister but had no ti to scold her. He turned back to the Maester. After greeting him with a nod, he got straight to the point.
"Is it good news or bad?"
"Lord Bolton reports that his patrols have also detected movent from the Gift army. Additionally, he confirms that the Queen and her two dragons remain at Last Hearth and have not moved. The dragon-hunting ballistae at Dreadfort are nearly complete and will be operational within days. He requests your permission to launch an attack on Last Hearth as soon as preparations are ready, to capture the Queen and her dragons in one stroke."
Everyone at the map table imdiately sat up straighter, their eyes fixed on Luwin.
Robb took the ssage from the Maester and read it again. The hopelessness he had felt just monts before vanished.
"Bolton claims he will gather three thousand n in the next few days, bring four or five dragon-hunting ballistae north, and launch a surprise attack on Last Hearth, eliminating the Mad King's daughter in one blow."
"Is that even possible?"
"No way."
The first to doubt was Ser Rodrik, who had overseen the ballista work at Winterfell.
"The blueprints only arrived a few days ago. How could they possibly have built them so quickly?"
"Perhaps Dreadfort already had ballistae in place. Modifying the base and aiming chanisms for anti-dragon use is much faster than building from scratch, so I don't doubt that." Clay Cerwyn shook his head. "But if Dreadfort can field three thousand elite n and several dragon-hunting ballistae, wouldn't it make more sense for them to march here and help defend Winterfell? Why risk going after the Mad King's daughter instead?"
"I think the sa," Maester Luwin agreed with Cerwyn. He turned to Robb. "Shall I write to Lord Bolton now, instructing him to link up with House Karstark and co here instead?"
Robb reread the ssage, then handed it to Clay Cerwyn. He crossed his arms and stood in thought for a long while before slowly shaking his head.
"Lords," he said, with a trace of reverence and mory in his voice, "my father once told that being a lord is like being a father. You must treat every subject as your child. Whether it's the farrs in the fields, the servants in the hall, or the soldiers at your side, you must protect them as you would your own children."
"Rather than venting my anger by punishing traitors, I would rather think of how best to protect my people." He gestured to Winterfell on the map. "The rebel army has just claid two major victories. Their morale and strength are at their peak. If we call our forces here to break the siege, we will pay in blood. Even if we win, the Queen and her dragons will co to avenge the loss."
He moved his hand toward Last Hearth on the map. "But if we eliminate the very person they serve, the war ends there."
"That's two dragons and hundreds of Unsullied, entrenched in a castle. How could a surprise attack possibly succeed?" Clay Cerwyn remained skeptical. "The North is still at war with the Ironborn. The forces of House Glover, Flint, and Dustin are tied up on the western coast. We have only about ten thousand spare troops. If those three thousand Bolton n are burned by dragonfire, we may not even be able to muster a force strong enough to defeat the rebels here."
Northn often boasted they could fight ten to one, but no one in the hall would dare say that now. To defeat five thousand of Aegor's northern troops, they all knew they would need more than that number of elite n.
Ser Rodrik nodded grimly. "Yes. And what if Bolton's attack fails?"
The question struck the heart of the matter. Robb looked at Arya, whose wide eyes were locked on him, then at the three loyal n surrounding him. After a long silence, he finally spoke again.
"Though Lord Bolton is not known for warmth, his actions have always been dependable. I believe he has sufficient confidence to propose such a plan. But if, by chance, he fails, then for the sake of the North's greater good and the safety of our people, I would have no choice but to follow the example of my ancestor, Torrhen Stark. I would bow to reality and acknowledge the Queen as the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, with the Night's Watch under her command."
Silence fell. After Daenerys had joined the Battle of Long Lake atop her dragon, much of the North's resistance to her Targaryen blood had faded. The real reason Robb still refused to recognize her claim was that she had never approached him directly. Instead, she had secretly gone to Aegor, the one man ant to be the North's gatekeeper. That had left Robb deeply humiliated.
Still, if resistance proved hopeless, surrendering to the Queen who had saved Westeros did not seem entirely unreasonable.
Now that the decision was made, the others had little reason to object. Robb's choice was already a major concession. He was placing the welfare of his people above his own pride. And the risk now fell entirely on House Bolton. If the Queen died, Aegor would lose both his cause and his confidence. If not, it would be Bolton's n who died, and Robb Stark would bear the na of the North's second "King Who Knelt."
People are selfish. What lord would refuse such a convenient arrangent?
"In that case, we must revise our plan," said Clay Cerwyn. Though fiercely loyal to House Stark and willing to die for Winterfell, he had grown weary of war. Hawkish views no longer held weight. "We should still prepare to hold the castle, but once the Gift army reaches the gates, send envoys to negotiate with Aegor daily. Stall for ti, give Lord Bolton the chance to act. One way or another, those talks will bring us a result."
Arya blinked. She didn't fully understand why the lords seed to have decided everything in a few words, but she did understand this: the Queen she had failed to kill was now besieged by an even more dangerous man, Lord Bolton, and that damned Aegor, who had dared to bring war to Winterfell, was about to be in serious trouble.
"Robb, if Lord Bolton kills the Queen, how will you deal with my master... Aegor?"
The Queen's death would be good, but as for the other person she had just vowed to stab to death, she suddenly found herself asking more.
"Him?" Robb took a deep breath, speaking through clenched teeth. "If Daenerys dies, and he lowers his banners, disbands his army, and surrenders peacefully, I may spare his life and exile him from Westeros. But if he dares to assault this castle and causes bloodshed..." He looked into his sister's eyes. "Even if one person in this castle dies, soone must pay the price."
"What are you looking at for? I'm not pleading for him. That bastard... deserves to be hanged." Arya muttered angrily. Then she realized that might be wishing for soone in the castle to die. She tried to work through her thoughts, but even she wasn't sure what she truly hoped for. In the end, she stamped her foot, turned, and ran from the hall.
(To be continued.)
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