A Clash of Kings (A Song of Ice and Fire, #2)

by George R.R. Martin

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?” “Robb’s far away. He can’t help you now.” “Help me?” He was confused. “Don’t scare me, Theon.” “I’m Prince Theon now. We’re both princes, Bran. Who would have dreamed it? But I’ve taken your castle, my prince.” “Winterfell?” Bran shook his head. “No, you couldn’t.” “Leave us, Werlag.” The man with the dirk withdrew. Theon seated himself on the bed. “I sent four men over the walls with grappling claws and ropes, and they opened a postern gate for the rest of us. My men are dealing with yours even now. I promise you, Winterfell is mine.” Bran did not understand. “But you’re Father’s ward.” “And now you and your brother are my wards. As soon as the fighting’s done, my men will be bringing the rest of your people together in the Great Hall. You and I are going to speak to them. You’ll tell them how you’ve yielded Winterfell to me, and command them to serve and obey their new lord as they did the old.” “I won’t,” said Bran. “We’ll fight you and throw you out. I never yielded, you can’t make me say I did.” “This is no game, Bran,...

so don’t play the boy with me, I won’t stand for it. The castle is mine, but these people are still yours. If the prince would keep them safe, he’d best do as he’s told.”