CHAPTER 124
While Garon rested his weary army after the victory at Ox Horn Mountain, Shanks rode day and night carrying news of the battle back to Winterfell.
After nearly two days of relentless travel, he finally reached Winterfell around midday on the following day.
"Victory at Ox Horn Mountain!"
"Victory at Ox Horn Mountain!"
"Lord Garon slew Victarion Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Fleet, before the eyes of thousands!"
"The main Ironborn host has been utterly destroyed!"
The moment Shanks shouted the news at the gatehouse, taking advantage of the drawbridge still being partially lowered, the entrance to Winterfell fell silent.
Even the guards operating the drawbridge froze.
For a brief moment, nobody moved.
Then the entire castle erupted.
A thunderous roar of cheers swept through Winterfell so loudly that it seemed capable of shaking the ancient walls themselves.
"Open the gates!"
"Quickly, open the gates!"
Alysane Mormont, who had been entrusted with part of Winterfell's defense during the crisis, rushed forward as soon as she heard the report and personally ordered the gates opened.
The drawbridge slammed down once more.
Shanks and his companions were immediately welcomed inside.
Alysane strode forward, her eyes shining with anticipation.
"Did Lord Garon truly win?"
"He won."
Shanks answered without hesitation.
"He won completely."
Joy flashed across Alysane's face.
Without warning, she drew her sword and thrust it skyward.
"Did you hear that?"
"The North has won!"
The words struck Winterfell like a bolt of lightning.
Months of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty suddenly burst apart.
Soldiers threw helmets into the air.
Women embraced one another while tears streamed down their faces.
Children laughed and cheered.
Old men and women fell to their knees before the heart tree, thanking the old gods for their mercy.
Laughing loudly, Alysane escorted Shanks toward the Great Hall.
Inside, Maester Luwin and Lord Wyman Manderly had already gathered after hearing rumors of the incoming message.
The moment Shanks entered, both men rose from their seats.
Maester Luwin spoke first.
"Is it true?"
"Have we truly won?"
"Yes."
Despite his exhaustion, Shanks nodded firmly.
"We have won."
"Lord Garon personally slew Victarion Greyjoy. The Ironborn host was routed, and our forces are already organizing operations against the survivors."
Even Lord Wyman Manderly seemed stunned.
His thick fingers tugged thoughtfully at his beard.
"Victarion Greyjoy..."
"He was slain by Lord Garon himself?"
As lord of White Harbor and commander of one of the North's few significant fleets, Wyman understood better than most how formidable Victarion Greyjoy was.
Even fighting on land rather than at sea, the Iron Captain remained one of the deadliest warriors in Westeros.
Yet somehow he had fallen.
"Tell us everything."
"Leave out no detail."
Before Shanks could begin, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the hall.
Sansa Stark entered pushing Bran's chair.
Her face was filled with hope and anxiety.
"Garon won?"
Her voice trembled.
"Was he injured?"
Shanks immediately bowed.
He knew very well how important Lady Sansa was to his lord.
"Lady Sansa, please do not worry."
"Lord Garon is safe and unharmed."
The relief that crossed Sansa's face was immediate.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
Beside her, Bran smiled.
It was the first genuine smile many had seen from him in quite some time.
"I told you he would do it," Bran said softly.
After Sansa regained her composure, Shanks finally began recounting the battle in full.
He described the ambush.
The fighting in the mountain passes.
The collapse of the Ironborn formations.
Most importantly, he described the duel between Garon and Victarion.
Everyone listened in complete silence.
When he reached the part where the two commanders fought amid thousands of battling soldiers, audible gasps spread through the hall.
Sansa covered her mouth despite already knowing the outcome.
When Shanks described the final blow, even Lord Wyman's eyes widened.
"And then Lord Garon cut off Victarion Greyjoy's head."
"The Ironborn army immediately broke."
"From that moment onward, the battle was over."
"We won completely."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Lord Wyman burst into laughter.
"Good!"
"What a warrior!"
"I knew I had not misjudged Garon Glover!"
Maester Luwin's eyes shone brightly.
The burden that had weighed upon him since the Ironborn invasion finally seemed lighter.
"I must send ravens immediately."
"Robb and Lady Catelyn must hear this news at once."
Before discussing anything further, however, the old maester noticed the exhaustion etched into Shanks's face.
"You have done enough."
"You need rest."
"I shall have rooms prepared immediately."
"Wash, eat, and sleep."
Shanks bowed gratefully.
After offering another respectful bow toward Sansa and Bran, he followed the servants from the hall.
The discussions within Winterfell continued long after his departure.
Outside, the mood throughout the castle transformed completely.
The fear that had gripped Winterfell for so long melted away beneath the warmth of victory.
Yet not everyone arriving at Winterfell that day shared in the celebration.
Later that same afternoon, another party entered the castle.
At its center was Asha Greyjoy.
The daughter of Balon Greyjoy had been transported from Deepwood Motte under heavy guard.
Her weapons had been confiscated.
Her wrists were bound.
Yet she still carried herself proudly, her chin raised high with all the stubborn defiance of the Iron Islands.
Before arriving, she had even prepared sharp words to throw at her captors.
Especially Garon.
Instead, she found something she had not expected.
Winterfell was celebrating.
The entire castle buzzed with excitement.
Everywhere she turned, soldiers and servants whispered eagerly among themselves.
"Lord Garon cut off Victarion Greyjoy's head."
"Three thousand Ironborn destroyed."
"Lord Glover is incredible."
"I heard Euron Crow's Eye ran like a frightened dog."
Each sentence struck Asha harder than the last.
The confidence on her face gradually vanished.
Her complexion grew pale.
Her steps slowed.
"No."
"Impossible."
"It cannot be true."
"Uncle Victarion could never lose to Glover."
She refused to believe it.
Yet once she was brought before Maester Luwin, Sansa Stark, and Bran Stark, denial became increasingly difficult.
Maester Luwin regarded her calmly.
His voice remained polite, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.
"Lady Asha Greyjoy."
"There is something you must know."
"Victarion Greyjoy died at the Battle of Ox Horn Mountain."
"The Ironborn host invading the North has been destroyed."
"Euron Greyjoy escaped after suffering defeat."
The words struck like a hammer.
Asha's last defenses crumbled.
"No..."
"You are lying."
She staggered backward.
The color drained from her face.
Sansa looked at her steadily.
There was pity in her gaze, though not enough to hide a measure of satisfaction.
"Lord Garon slew Victarion himself."
"Thousands witnessed it."
The light in Asha's eyes vanished.
The fierce confidence that had always defined her seemed to disappear in an instant.
Only disbelief remained.
And despair.
"Uncle Victarion..."
"How could he..."
Victarion Greyjoy had always seemed invincible.
A giant among men.
The strongest warrior she knew.
Now he was dead.
The Ironborn host was shattered.
The invasion had failed.
In that moment, every scheme she had entertained and every hope she had clung to collapsed completely.
She finally understood the truth.
She had no leverage left.
Seeing her shaken state, Maester Luwin decided to press the advantage.
"Lady Greyjoy."
"Enough blood has already been shed."
"If this war continues, both the North and the Iron Islands will suffer needlessly."
He paused before continuing.
"Will you write to your father, King Balon?"
"Will you ask him to end this conflict and accept your return?"
"It is the surest path to preventing further tragedy."
Asha laughed bitterly.
The sound was harsh and empty.
"Write a letter?"
Her expression twisted.
"You want me to tell him that his brother is dead?"
"That his army is destroyed?"
"That his daughter sits here as a captive?"
"You want me to beg him to surrender?"
"Never."
She turned her head away.
Refusing to cooperate.
Refusing even to look at them.
Maester Luwin sighed.
He knew there was no point forcing the issue immediately.
With a gesture, he ordered the guards forward.
"Take her away."
"Keep her under close watch."
"Perhaps after a few days she will see reason."
Once Asha was escorted away, Luwin turned toward Sansa and Bran.
"I will send word to Riverrun immediately."
"Robb and Lady Catelyn must learn of Garon's victory."
Sansa and Bran both agreed.
Feeling far lighter than he had in months, Maester Luwin returned to the Maester's Turret and began preparing his ravens.
Unfortunately, his relief did not last.
Before his own message could even be dispatched, another raven arrived from Riverrun.
The contents of the letter were brief.
Brutally brief.
Lord Eddard Stark had been executed by King Joffrey Baratheon in King's Landing.
Robb Stark had been proclaimed King in the North.
The joy that had filled Winterfell only moments before suddenly met a new and terrible reality.
The North had won a great victory.
But House Stark had lost its lord.
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