The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

27.

Massey

The fierce commotion that I woke up to was like nothing I had ever heard before. Panicked footsteps and men yelling outside of my door were the first things to shake me slightly awake. Next, it was the taste of smoke.

   Smoke?

   It was creeping into my room from the crack beneath my door, rising soon after and beginning to cover my ceiling. I scrambled backwards to the furthest point of my bed as it dawned on me that I needed to leave my room sooner rather than later. Though, I was hesitant to open the door in fear of what I'd find on the other side. My window was much too high to escape from. I was ashamed to find that I was frozen in fear, simply sitting on my bed with my knees to my chest and coughing. As I looked around in a panic, my door swung open, smacking the wall behind it loudly and letting in a burst of smoke that revealed a figure on the other side. It was Robb. He was couching a bit as well, but otherwise, he looked alright.

   "Come!" He shouted as he extended his hand to me.

   I took it without pause, following him barefoot out of the door as men rushed the hall with buckets of water. Robb had his hand on my back as he guided me hurriedly down the stone stairs toward the yard.

   "What's happened?"

   "It's the library. A fire," he panted.

   A fire in the library? Had I left a candle lit before bed? No. Right? I was certain I hadn't, but I couldn't be so sure now.

   We made it to the courtyard, Robb breathlessly telling me to stay put before rushing back up with a load of water in his hands as well. I stood clearing my throat and trying to catch my breath. Outside, it was a melody of men shouting and dogs barking. The cold night air found my bare arms as I was still in my nightgown, and the mud below me found my toes with a squish as I moved to back further away from the castle. One of the boys I'd recognized from the stables saw me and brought over a blanket that smelled brashly of horse as he draped it over my shoulders. Regardless, it was an appreciated gesture.

   I eventually found a seat, staring up at the blaze throughout the next hour or so as it gradually succumbed to the men's efforts to extinguish it. Though, I wasn't alone. Stumbling out of the building soon after I did and looking heavily heartbroken was Chayle, the septon who also tended to the books in the library. He was young and, like me, had surely never seen anything like this before. His eyes held a dull sort of terror as he watched the library burn against the dark night sky. It dawned on me then just how much of Winterfell's history was going up in flames in front of us. Robb found me again after the fire had died down significantly, and briefly began to check on me before we were interrupted by Rodrik running to fetch him.

   "It's your mother," was all that could leave his mouth before Robb ran off toward Bran's chambers. Rodrik looked to me, and without a word, we both hurried there as well.

   When we reached Bran's door, Lady Catelyn was stood with Robb's arm around her shoulder. Her palms were bleeding fairly badly as Maester Luwin began to tend to them. As I stepped into the room behind Rodrik, any curiosity I had as to what had happened was answered. At the foot of Bran's bed was a man laying dead on the floor, still bleeding from a wound to his throat. At least, it appeared to me that he was still bleeding. I only glanced at him before looking away in shock, shielding my eyes by looking to the ceiling.

   A distraction, I realized. This man had set the fire.

   Summer was on the bed now, which was different from when I had been in the room here earlier in the night. She sat guarding Bran, who looked so peaceful compared to the scene in front of him that it merely seemed he was sleeping. The fur around Summer's mouth was soaked in blood. I retreated into the wall by the door, watching as Robb bent to look at the dagger that, presumably, the strange man had used on Lady Stark. She sat mostly in a shocked silence before she looked over to me. She didn't even seem to phased by the pain of her cuts.