But when the door crashed open behind him, the man who stepped through was no one Bran knew. He wore a leather jerkin sewn with overlapping iron disks, and carried a dirk in one hand and an axe strapped to his back. “What do you want?” Bran demanded, afraid. “This is my room. You get out of here.” Theon Greyjoy followed him into the bedchamber. “We’re not here to harm you, Bran.” “Theon?” Bran felt dizzy with relief. “Did Robb send you? Is he here too?”
