CHAPTER 102
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It was around ten o'clock at night.
In Winter Town, inside a brightly lit tavern, the Ironborn captains gathered to discuss their next move against Winterfell.
Euron Greyjoy spread a crude map across a wooden table and carefully studied the castle's defenses.
"After today's fighting, I estimate there are no more than three hundred defenders left inside Winterfell."
Aeron Damphair also looked over the map, his expression brightening.
"As long as the siege engines are completed tomorrow, we can smash through Winterfell's gates and take the castle completely."
But Euron let out a low, dark chuckle.
"Tomorrow?"
He glanced at Aeron.
"My dear brother, I have no intention of waiting another night."
Euron tapped the map with one finger, a cold gleam flashing in his eye.
"Tonight, I will take Winterfell."
His gaze swept across the room as he began issuing orders.
"Squint, I'll give you thirty men. Later, you'll create a diversion at the North Gate."
Squint immediately nodded.
"Yes, Lord Euron."
Euron then turned toward Dagmer Cleftjaw.
"Once Squint begins his diversion and draws the defenders' attention, Dagmer, you and your men will set up ladders at the Main Gate and pretend to launch the main assault."
Dagmer frowned.
"Why should we pretend to be part of the..."
Before he could finish, Euron's single visible eye twitched slightly.
A chill immediately crawled down Dagmer's spine.
"Yes, Lord Euron. I guarantee the mission will be completed."
Only then did Euron shift his gaze away.
He looked toward Aeron.
"You will lead the remaining captains and wait outside the Hunter's Gate. I will personally take men across the moat and scale the walls with grappling hooks."
"Once I open the gate and signal you, launch the attack immediately."
"Understood?"
Aeron's expression became serious.
"Understood."
Euron nodded.
"Good. Begin preparations. We move in one hour."
His gaze swept across the tavern once more.
Then, like a devil whispering temptation into mortal ears, he began stirring the greed of every captain present.
"This is Winterfell. The seat of House Stark, which has ruled the North for thousands of years."
"The wealth hidden within its walls is enough that even a small share could keep you rich for the rest of your lives."
"When the castle falls, I grant you free plunder."
"Aside from the Stark girl, everything inside belongs to you."
"You may take whatever gold, silver, and treasure you find, and every woman in the castle will be yours to claim."
"Conquer them through blood and iron. Follow the Old Way!"
Images of Winterfell's treasures filled the minds of the assembled captains.
Their breathing grew heavy.
Their eyes burned with greed and desire.
Euron watched them and slowly whispered the ancient words of House Greyjoy.
"We Do Not Sow."
Boom!
The atmosphere inside the tavern instantly exploded.
Weapons were raised high.
"We Do Not Sow!"
"We Do Not Sow!"
"We Do Not Sow!"
The fanatical roar shook the building.
Euron's lips curved into a satisfied smile.
After the shouting subsided, he immediately ordered everyone to begin carrying out their assignments.
While the Ironborn prepared for their assault, another fierce argument was unfolding inside Winterfell's Great Hall.
After a full day of fighting, the already depleted defenders had been reduced even further.
Fewer than two hundred and fifty men remained capable of fighting.
Cley Cerwyn had finally lost hope.
Convinced that Winterfell would soon suffer the same fate as Torrhen's Square and Castle Cerwyn, he sought out Sansa and Bran and proposed escaping under cover of darkness.
But the suggestion immediately provoked Ser Rodrik's fury.
"Escape?"
Rodrik's voice thundered through the hall.
"Where exactly do you expect the Starks to flee?"
With anger written across his face, he continued.
"Euron's army surrounds Winterfell. If we leave these walls with only a handful of men, we'll be swallowed by the kraken before dawn."
"We can escape into the Wolfswood."
Cley immediately argued back.
"We know the forests. The Ironborn don't."
"They won't dare pursue us too deeply."
He turned toward Sansa.
"Lady Sansa, the Ironborn are beasts. If they capture us, the things they'll do will be worse than death."
"We have to leave."
Sansa's face turned pale.
Before she could answer, Bran spoke first.
Sitting in his chair, his expression remained calm.
"Lord Cley, we are Starks."
"This is our home."
"We will not run."
"And besides..."
Bran's eyes carried a strange certainty.
"We will win."
Cley looked at the crippled boy, irritation flashing briefly through his eyes.
"Win?"
"With what exactly?"
"Lord Glover was supposed to guard against the Ironborn, yet he still hasn't appeared."
"Either he abandoned us, or Deepwood Motte is under attack and unable to help."
"As for the other Northern lords, by the time they arrive, we'll already be Ironborn captives."
His words struck like icy water.
The already fragile morale inside the hall sank even lower.
Ser Rodrik's expression darkened further.
Just as he was about to order Cley to hold his tongue, a commotion suddenly erupted outside.
Moments later, a soldier burst into the Great Hall.
"Ser Rodrik!"
The man was nearly out of breath.
"Something terrible has happened!"
"The Ironborn... there are Ironborn everywhere... they're attacking the Main Gate!"
Everyone's expressions changed instantly.
Rodrik no longer cared about Cley.
Without hesitation, he rushed outside with his men.
Maester Luwin, however, frowned.
A deep unease had settled in his heart.
"Sansa. Bran."
He immediately moved toward them.
"I'm taking you somewhere safe."
He glanced at Cley and then motioned for Hodor to lift Bran.
Together, they hurried from the hall.
Cley and his sister followed close behind.
Meanwhile, Rodrik raced toward the Main Gate.
When he finally reached the battlements, he froze.
There were fewer than two hundred Ironborn attacking.
"What's going on?"
His brow furrowed.
"Didn't they say there were far more?"
Stepping forward, he cut down an Ironborn attempting to climb the wall and turned toward the messenger.
The soldier looked equally confused.
"There were many a moment ago..."
At that exact moment, fierce fighting suddenly erupted from the direction of the Hunter's Gate.
Rodrik's face turned deathly pale.
"Damn it."
"It's a trap!"
"Quickly!"
"Reinforce the Hunter's Gate!"
He turned and sprinted through Winterfell as fast as his aging legs would carry him.
But he was already too late.
Winterfell simply lacked enough men.
The feint at the Main Gate had successfully drawn most of the defenders away.
Fifteen minutes earlier, Euron's mute crewmen from the Silence had silently crossed the moat.
Using grappling hooks and ropes, they scaled the walls under cover of darkness.
Just as Theon Greyjoy had once seized Winterfell through surprise and deception, they swiftly killed the guards stationed near the Hunter's Gate and lowered the portcullis.
The Hunter's Gate fell almost instantly.
The Ironborn waiting outside erupted into cheers and charged through the opening with weapons raised.
The gate passage was narrow, however, preventing them from flooding inside all at once.
Nearly a hundred defenders managed to hold the entrance temporarily.
A brutal battle erupted beneath the gatehouse.
But before long, the advantage shifted decisively toward the attackers.
By the time Rodrik arrived with reinforcements, the Ironborn had already secured the Hunter's Gate and were advancing toward the kennels.
"Open the cages!"
Rodrik immediately shouted.
"Release all the hounds!"
The kennel doors were thrown open.
Dozens upon dozens of starving hunting dogs exploded from their cages.
The beasts barked wildly as they charged the Ironborn.
The sudden attack caught the Ironborn completely off guard.
Several men were dragged to the ground immediately.
Sharp teeth tore into throats and faces.
Dozens of Ironborn fell within moments.
The savage hounds bought Rodrik precious time.
Gathering the remaining hundred defenders around him, he established a defensive line before the kennels and temporarily halted the Ironborn advance.
Then Euron finally appeared.
Dressed in his black scale armor, he stepped through the crowd and came face-to-face with Ser Rodrik.
His eye swept across the weary defenders behind the old knight.
A mocking smile appeared on his lips.
"Kneel and surrender."
"I may spare your lives."
Rodrik's white hair was soaked with sweat and blood.
He struggled for breath.
Yet his answer came without hesitation.
"Dream on."
"I swore my life to House Stark."
"I would sooner die than betray my lord."
His gaze locked onto Euron.
"In the name of the gods, Euron Greyjoy, do you dare face me in single combat and decide the outcome of this war?"
Euron merely smirked.
He had no interest whatsoever.
Beyond the defenders stood the heart of Winterfell.
And somewhere inside waited the Stark girl.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Euron gave his answer.
The Ironborn surged forward like a black tide.
"Kill!"
"For Stark!"
Rodrik roared and charged.
His sword struck down one Ironborn immediately.
The defenders followed him into battle.
But for every attacker who fell, several more took his place.
Within moments, Rodrik's line collapsed beneath overwhelming numbers.
The defenders were scattered.
Most died where they stood.
Even Rodrik himself suffered a terrible wound, his sword arm severed during the fighting.
Blood poured into the snow.
Falling to one knee, the old knight lowered his head.
"My lord..."
"Robb..."
"I did my best."
Covered in blood, he knelt amidst ruin and despair.
Euron barely spared him a glance.
Victory seemed already within reach.
Leading his Ironborn forward, he pushed deeper into Winterfell's courtyard.
But just as he prepared to seize the castle completely, a distant thunder suddenly rolled across the night.
At first it sounded like a storm.
Then Euron realized the truth.
Warhorses.
Hundreds of them.
At least three hundred.
Their iron-shod hooves shook the frozen earth.
Euron's expression changed immediately.
"Who?"
For the first time that night, uncertainty entered his heart.
Then the answer arrived.
"Glover!"
"Gods save Lord Glover!"
"Gods save Lord Glover!"
The roar of hundreds of voices erupted across the darkness like thunder.
The next moment, warhorses screamed and iron hooves crashed into the battlefield outside Winterfell.
{🥳 Loving the story so far? Craving more chapters? 🥰
If you're enjoying the journey, don't forget to vote with your Power Stones! Every Power Stone helps the novel reach more readers and motivates me to keep the updates coming. 💙
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👉 /mythborne }