CHAPTER 113
"My Lord, My Lady, House Bolton requests an audience!"
A guard from outside the hall entered to report.
The group exchanged glances.
Maester Luwin immediately instructed the guard.
"Let him in."
Meanwhile, Sansa took a deep breath, trying to make herself appear more dignified and authoritative.
A moment later, Ramsay Snow entered the hall with his trademark unsettling smile.
He first gave an exaggerated bow to Sansa, though his gaze crawled across her like a filthy insect, openly scrutinizing her.
"Lady Sansa..."
His voice dragged out lazily as he praised her in a strange tone.
"It is truly a blessing to see you safe and unharmed."
"Winterfell has endured disaster, yet you remain so radiant. You truly are a lady worthy of both House Stark and House Tully."
However, his compliments sounded more like desecration than praise.
Jon stared coldly at Ramsay, instantly feeling a deep and instinctive disgust toward him.
Even Maester Luwin's polite smile faded considerably.
Sansa herself felt a chill run through her body. Suppressing her discomfort, she maintained proper courtesy.
"Thank you for your concern, Ramsay Snow."
"House Stark will remember House Bolton's assistance."
Her tone remained cold and distant.
Yet Ramsay seemed oblivious to her rejection and continued smiling as he greeted Maester Luwin.
As for Bran, reclining in his chair, Ramsay barely spared him a glance.
Finally, his attention shifted toward Garon.
"I just heard that Lord Garon taught the Ironborn another lesson at Castle Cerwyn."
"House Glover truly possesses extraordinary courage and strength."
Despite the praise, Garon detected little sincerity in Ramsay's words.
He merely nodded indifferently and offered no response.
Sansa had no desire to continue the conversation and spoke directly.
"Ramsay, you must be exhausted from your journey. Arrangements have already been made for your accommodations."
The implication was clear.
He could leave now.
But Ramsay pretended not to understand.
"My soldiers are stationed outside the castle. Serving House Stark is simply House Bolton's duty."
His gaze swept across Sansa once more before he continued.
"Perhaps, for your safety, it would be better if a portion of my more reliable men were stationed within Winterfell itself."
The hidden meaning behind his words caused Sansa to frown.
Instinctively, she looked toward Garon.
Garon's gaze immediately sharpened.
He subtly shook his head, signaling Sansa not to agree.
"Thank you for your concern, Ramsay."
Sansa's voice became firmer.
Straightening her posture, she projected as much authority as possible.
"At present, Winterfell's defenses are under Lord Garon's command, and all arrangements have been properly organized."
"House Stark appreciates House Bolton's loyalty, but it will be more convenient for your men to remain outside the castle."
"If there is nothing else, please return and rest."
Being directly rejected, and effectively dismissed, caused Ramsay's smile to stiffen momentarily.
A flash of sinister jealousy and malice flickered deep within his eyes.
However, he quickly regained his composure and bowed slightly.
"In that case, I shall await Lady Stark's summons."
As he turned to leave, he cast Garon a meaningful glance before departing.
The atmosphere inside the Great Hall remained heavy after Ramsay's departure.
"A viper."
Bran spoke softly.
His greensight had shown him many indistinct visions, and Ramsay Snow appeared in several of them.
Sansa slowly exhaled.
Ramsay's gaze had made her deeply uncomfortable.
It felt as though he were skinning her alive with his eyes.
"It seems we must move faster."
Maester Luwin, increasingly aware of the dangers surrounding Winterfell, turned to Garon once again.
"Lord Garon, I suggest that we immediately send riders to Deepwood Motte and secretly escort Asha Greyjoy to Winterfell."
"And I shall write a letter to Balon Greyjoy explaining the truth surrounding Theon's death."
"Perhaps Asha can be exchanged for the Ironborn's withdrawal from the North."
Garon pondered for a moment.
Then a thought crossed his mind.
"Perhaps this is an opportunity."
"My uncle should already have followed my instructions and arranged for Joel to gradually reveal information to Asha."
"By now she should be questioning everything she thinks she knows."
"The next step is to make her cooperate willingly and gradually bring her under my influence."
A sharp light flashed through Garon's eyes.
He nodded.
"Very well."
"We shall proceed as the Maester suggests."
Turning toward Jon, he gave another order.
"Have Shanks send a cavalry detachment back to Deepwood Motte."
"Notify Roger and tell him to personally escort Asha Greyjoy here with thirty trustworthy guards."
Jon immediately nodded.
"Understood. I'll arrange it now."
Soon afterward, a cavalry detachment rode out through the Hunter's Gate and disappeared into the Wolfswood.
Ramsay, who was standing atop Winterfell's walls pretending to inspect the surroundings, noticed the riders leaving.
Naturally, he attempted to gather information.
Unfortunately, he learned nothing.
"Could Garon be moving troops again?"
Ramsay's expression darkened.
The more he observed, the more he realized that as long as Garon remained in Winterfell, he had no opportunity to seize control of the castle.
"I need to lure him away."
"Only then will I have a chance."
Various schemes churned through his mind.
It was not until light snow began to fall once more that he finally returned to his quarters with Reek, secretly planning his next move.
Meanwhile, deep beneath Deepwood Motte, the dungeon remained as dark as the bottom of the sea.
Asha Greyjoy leaned against the cold stone wall.
Her fingers traced the rust along her chains as she silently counted the days.
It was mealtime again.
Because of Asha's identity, Roger naturally did not mistreat her.
Though her freedom was restricted, her meals remained decent.
Several guards arrived carrying torches.
They placed fresh bread, fried fish, and a bottle of ale before Asha.
Then they tossed a few pieces of stale black bread into the neighboring cell.
As always, they mocked the prisoner inside.
"Hey, Joel."
"Eat well and dream big."
"Maybe you'll dream of feasting in Winterfell."
One guard deliberately raised his voice so Asha could hear.
"Maybe you'll even dream about a lion drawing his sword and killing a kraken."
"Hahaha!"
The guards laughed loudly before departing with their torches.
Darkness once again swallowed the dungeon.
Asha ignored the food.
Instead, she stared silently into the darkness, her knuckles turning white.
Ever since she had been imprisoned here, the guards seemed to deliberately tease the man next door.
From their conversations, she had gradually learned that Joel supposedly witnessed Theon's death in Winterfell.
At first, she paid little attention.
Back then, all she cared about was escaping and warning her father about Garon.
But as the days passed, Asha slowly accepted a painful reality.
Her chances of escaping were nearly nonexistent.
"Am I really destined to wait for Father to rescue me?"
"I am Balon Greyjoy's daughter."
"How can I ever earn respect and claim the Seastone Chair like this?"
Pain filled her heart.
She worried about her own future and the future of the Iron Islands.
Closing her eyes, she drifted through memories of the past.
Then once again she heard the guards' laughter and Theon's name echoing through her thoughts.
"Theon..."
At that moment, a cough came from the neighboring cell.
Asha opened her eyes and stared into the darkness.
Finally, she could no longer restrain herself.
"Joel?"
A tired grunt came from next door.
"What?"
Asha hesitated briefly before speaking.
"Tell me."
"Why did Theon die?"
Her voice was low and strained.
Inside the neighboring cell, Joel immediately brightened.
"My mission can finally begin."
But he did not answer right away.
Following Garon's instructions, he remained silent for a long time before finally speaking.
"I don't know."
Asha froze.
"You witnessed it yourself."
"How can you not know?"
Joel replied hoarsely.
"I heard Theon scream."
"I saw Ser Jaime Lannister draw his sword."
"Then I saw Lord Eddard Stark and Jaime confronting one another before the Queen intervened."
"As for the reason..."
"I don't know."
"And I didn't dare ask."
Asha bit her lip.
Pain stabbed through her heart.
After a brief pause, Joel slowly continued.
"If anyone knows the truth, it would be Lord Garon."
"He was there that day."
"He even drew his sword against Jaime."
"He knows far more than I do."
Asha's breathing quickened.
Her fingers tightened around the iron bars.
The dungeon returned to silence.
But her heart could no longer remain calm.
She suddenly wanted to meet Garon.
She wanted answers.
She wanted to know exactly what had happened.
She wanted to hear the truth from the mouth of the man who had stood there that day.
Slowly raising her head, Asha's gaze cut through the darkness like a blade.
If Jaime Lannister truly killed her brother, and if others had stood by and watched, then one day they would all pay the price.
Meanwhile, far to the south, neither Victarion Greyjoy nor the other Ironborn knew anything about Asha's current situation.
On the contrary, Euron Greyjoy, having already reunited with Victarion near Moat Cailin, was doing everything possible to persuade his brother to launch a joint assault on Winterfell.