Operation Stumpy Re-Read
ADWD: Theon I (Theon VII) [Chapter 51]
Theon I otherwise known as A Ghost in Winterfell Part II.
If you haven't already, I strongly recommend reading that post before this one.
So we're all on the same page, I will be operating under the assumption that Theon is both the Hooded Man and the ghost in Winterfell.
"The storm will end today," one of the surviving stableboys was insisting loudly. "Why, it isn't even winter." Theon would have laughed if he had dared. He remembered tales Old Nan had told them of storms that raged for forty days and forty nights, for a year, for ten years … storms that buried castles and cities and whole kingdoms under a hundred feet of snow.
He's getting closer and closer to calling someone a sweet summer child.
+.+.+
He sat in the back of the Great Hall, not far from the horses, watching Abel, Rowan, and a mousy brown-haired washerwoman called Squirrel attack slabs of stale brown bread fried in bacon grease.
Why is there an Arya wildling?
+.+.+
Roose Bolton entered, pale-eyed and yawning, accompanied by his plump and pregnant wife, Fat Walda.
New developments.
+.+.+
"Lord Stannis is outside the walls, and not far by the sound of it. All we need do is reach him." Abel's fingers danced across the strings of his lute. The singer's beard was brown, though his long hair had largely gone to grey.
Hair going grey before the beard?
Has George ever met a man.
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Up on the dais, Ramsay was arguing with his father. They were too far away for Theon to make out any of the words, but the fear on Fat Walda's round pink face spoke volumes.
Nothing to worry about, I'm sure.
+.+.+
Theon wondered if he would ever see the Drowned God's watery halls, or if his ghost would linger here at Winterfell. Dead is dead. Better dead than Reek.
Kind of amazed he doesn't consider hell a strong possibility. Lol.
+.+.+
If Abel's scheme went awry, Ramsay would make their dying long and hard. He will flay me from head to heel this time, and no amount of begging will end the anguish. No pain Theon had ever known came close to the agony that Skinner could evoke with a little flensing blade.
<- Daenerys VIII
I hate this, thought Daenerys Targaryen. How did this happen, that I am drinking and smiling with men I'd sooner flay?
+.+.+
Abel would learn that lesson soon enough. And for what? Jeyne, her name is Jeyne, and her eyes are the wrong color. A mummer playing a part. Lord Bolton knows, and Ramsay, but the rest are blind, even this bloody bard with his sly smiles. The jape is on you, Abel, you and your murdering whores. You'll die for the wrong girl.
Does Mance know? I'll let you decided.
"But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?"
"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand," the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly.
[...]
The night your father feasted Robert, I sat in the back of his hall on a bench with the other freeriders, listening to Orland of Oldtown play the high harp and sing of dead kings beneath the sea. I betook of your lord father's meat and mead, had a look at Kingslayer and Imp . . . and made passing note of Lord Eddard's children and the wolf pups that ran at their heels. - Jon I, ASOS
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He had come this close to telling them the truth when Rowan had delivered him to Abel in the ruins of the Burned Tower, but at the last instant he had held his tongue. The singer seemed intent on making off with the daughter of Eddard Stark. If he knew that Lord Ramsay's bride was but a steward's whelp, well …
A grown ass man living out his Bael the Bard fantasies.
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The doors of the Great Hall opened with a crash.
A cold wind came swirling through, and a cloud of ice crystals sparkled blue-white in the air. Through it strode Ser Hosteen Frey, caked with snow to the waist, a body in his arms.
There's no blood on Ser Hosteen Frey.
+.+.+
Another murder.
Snow slid from Ser Hosteen's cloaks as he stalked toward the high table, his steps ringing against the floor. A dozen Frey knights and men-at-arms entered behind him. One was a boy Theon knew—Big Walder, the little one, fox-faced and skinny as a stick. His chest and arms and cloak were spattered with blood.
Fox-faced Big Walder has splattered blood all over him.
+.+.+
The body in Ser Hosteen's arms sparkled in the torchlight, armored in pink frost. The cold outside had frozen his blood.
"My brother Merrett's son." Hosteen Frey lowered the body to the floor before the dais. "Butchered like a hog and shoved beneath a snowbank. A boy."
Little Walder's blood had frozen due to the cold.
How is there splattered blood all over Big Walder?
"Don't be stupid," his cousin said. "The sons of the first son come before the second son. Ser Ryman is next in line, and then Edwyn and Black Walder and Petyr Pimple. And then Aegon and all his sons."
"Ryman is old too," said Little Walder. "Past forty, I bet. And he has a bad belly. Do you think he'll be lord?"
"I'll be lord. I don't care if he is." - Bran V, ACOK
x
"Did you find your cousins, my lord?"
"No. I never thought we would. They're dead. Lord Wyman had them killed. That's what I would have done if I was him." - Reek III, ADWD
+.+.+
Little Walder, thought Theon. The big one. He glanced at Rowan. There are six of them, he remembered. Any of them could have done this. But the washerwoman felt his eyes. "This was no work of ours," she said.
"Be quiet," Abel warned her.
She's not lying.
As much as I'd love to push a new theory, I think we all know Big Walder is the killer.
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Lord Ramsay descended from the dais to the dead boy. His father rose more slowly, pale-eyed, still-faced, solemn. "This was foul work."
Does someone want to remind George that Little Walder was Walda's brother, and she should be reacting to his dead body.
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For once Roose Bolton's voice was loud enough to carry. "Where was the body found?"
"Under that ruined keep, my lord," replied Big Walder. "The one with the old gargoyles." The boy's gloves were caked with his cousin's blood. "I told him not to go out alone, but he said he had to find a man who owed him silver."
Sure, repeat it.
Big Walder found the body first thing in the morning. Imagine that.
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"What man?" Ramsay demanded. "Give me his name. Point him out to me, boy, and I will make you a cloak of his skin."
"He never said, my lord. Only that he won the coin at dice." The Frey boy hesitated. "It was some White Harbor men who taught dice. I couldn't say which ones, but it was them."
The boy hesitates right before incriminating Wyman Manderly, known antagonizer of House Frey. Nicely done, kid.
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"My lord," boomed Hosteen Frey. "We know the man who did this. Killed this boy and all the rest. Not by his own hand, no. He is too fat and craven to do his own killing. But by his word." He turned to Wyman Manderly. "Do you deny it?"
The Lord of White Harbor bit a sausage in half. "I confess …" He wiped the grease from his lips with his sleeve. "… I confess that I know little of this poor boy. Lord Ramsay's squire, was he not? How old was the lad?"
Wyman definitely knew something about the boy, Little Walder was betrothed to Wylla Manderly.
Despite that motive, I don't think there's a single reason to believe Manderly did this.
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"Nine, on his last nameday."
"So young," said Wyman Manderly. "Though mayhaps this was a blessing. Had he lived, he would have grown up to be a Frey."
Bwhahahahaha.
And he said mayhaps! Lmfao.
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Ser Hosteen Frey ripped his longsword from its scabbard and leapt toward Wyman Manderly. The Lord of White Harbor tried to jerk away, but the tabletop pinned him to his chair. The blade slashed through three of his four chins in a spray of bright red blood.
How did he not die?
+.+.+
Up on the dais, Ramsay was arguing with his father.
x
For once Roose Bolton's voice was loud enough to carry. "Where was the body found?"
x
Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness."
Roose just doesn't seem like himself lately. He needs a nap.
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"I see you all want blood," the Lord of the Dreadfort said. Maester Rhodry stood beside him, a raven on his arm. The bird's black plumage shone like coal oil in the torchlight. Wet, Theon realized. And in his lordship's hand, a parchment. That will be wet as well. Dark wings, dark words. "Rather than use our swords upon each other, you might try them on Lord Stannis." Lord Bolton unrolled the parchment.
Arnolf Karstark informing the Boltons of Stannis Baratheon's whereabouts.
"Tell me, then. Where are these two trained to fly?"
Maester Tybald did not answer. Theon Greyjoy kicked his feet feebly, and laughed under his breath. Caught!
"Answer me. If we were to loose these birds, would they return to the Dreadfort?" The king leaned forward. "Or might they fly for Winterfell instead?" - Theon I, TWOW
Too bad Stannis knows they're coming.
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"His host lies not three days' ride from here, snowbound and starving, and I for one am tired of waiting on his pleasure. Ser Hosteen, assemble your knights and men-at-arms by the main gates. As you are so eager for battle, you shall strike our first blow. Lord Wyman, gather your White Harbor men by the east gate. They shall go forth as well."
We're saving the Night Lamp theory for Theon I TWOW (How did Theon chapters become harder than Bran's?), but I will say they're walking into a trap.
If the Freys are striking first, hopefully that means Team Manderly avoids falling into a lake.
+.+.+
"Singer," he called, "come sing us something soothing."
Abel bowed. "If it please your lordship."
[...]
Rowan grasped Theon's arm. "The bath. It must be now."
He wrenched free of her touch. "By day? We will be seen."
"The snow will hide us. Are you deaf? Bolton is sending forth his swords. We have to reach King Stannis before they do."
"But … Abel …"
"Abel can fend for himself," murmured Squirrel.
Rest in peace, Mance Rayder.
+.+.+
Squirrel slipped away, soft-footed as she always was.
Is she off to kill the queen?
No really, why is there an Arya wildling?
+.+.+
Rowan walked Theon from the hall. Since she and her sisters had found him in the godswood, one of them had dogged his every step, never letting him out of sight. They did not trust him. Why should they? I was Reek before and might be Reek again. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with sneak.
Interesting, because the ghost of Winterfell seems to have stopped killing people.
+.+.+
Outside the snow still fell. The snowmen the squires had built had grown into monstrous giants, ten feet tall and hideously misshapen.
Someone please meta the evolution of the snowmen.
More snowmen had risen in the yard by the time Theon Greyjoy made his way back. To command the snowy sentinels on the walls, the squires had erected a dozen snowy lords. One was plainly meant to be Lord Manderly; it was the fattest snowman that Theon had ever seen. The one-armed lord could only be Harwood Stout, the snow lady Barbrey Dustin. And the one closest to the door with the beard made of icicles had to be old Whoresbane Umber. - The Turncloak, ADWD
x
Sentries crowded into the guard turrets to warm half-frozen hands over glowing braziers, leaving the wallwalks to the snowy sentinels the squires had thrown up, who grew larger and stranger every night as wind and weather worked their will upon them. Ragged beards of ice grew down the spears clasped in their snowy fists. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD
+.+.+
Even the godswood was turning white. A film of ice had formed upon the pool beneath the heart tree, and the face carved into its pale trunk had grown a mustache of little icicles.
Apparently Bran's pulling a Sansa, and speedrunning puberty.
+.+.+
"Winter is coming …"
Rowan gave him a hard look. "You have no right to mouth Lord Eddard's words. Not you. Not ever. After what you did—"
Does someone want to remind George the wildlings do not give a shit about kneelers and their house words.
(Yes, I'm aware of the Rowan Umber theory.)
+.+.+
"You killed a boy as well."
"That was not us. I told you."
"Words are wind." They are no better than me. We're just the same. "You killed the others, why not him? Yellow Dick—"
"—stank as bad as you. A pig of a man."
"And Little Walder was a piglet. Killing him brought the Freys and Manderlys to dagger points, that was cunning, you—"
"Not us." Rowan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the barracks wall, her face an inch from his. "Say it again and I will rip your lying tongue out, kinslayer."
Nothing in this chapter is worthy of an alarm, but I've already established a pattern, lol.
This is more ambiguous than I ever remembered.
Little Walder, thought Theon. The big one. He glanced at Rowan. There are six of them, he remembered. Any of them could have done this. But the washerwoman felt his eyes. "This was no work of ours," she said.
x
"Kill me." There was more despair than defiance in his voice. "Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest. It was you."
Holly laughed. "How could it be us? We're women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD
The wildlings never admit to killing the other men. They only deny killing a boy; that's not an admission of guilt for the others.
If the wildings did kill the men, and George was content with the reader knowing that, why did he leave room for doubt?
+.+.+
Theon knew he should not goad her. In her own way, this one was as dangerous as Skinner or Damon Dance-for-Me. But he was cold and tired, his head was pounding, he had not slept in days.
I hear that's bad for your mental health, Theon Durden.
+.+.+
"I have done terrible things … betrayed my own, turned my cloak, ordered the death of men who trusted me … but I am no kinslayer."
"Stark's boys were never brothers to you, aye. We know."
That was true, but it was not what Theon had meant. They were not my blood, but even so, I never harmed them. The two we killed were just some miller's sons. Theon did not want to think about their mother. He had known the miller's wife for years, had even bedded her. Big heavy breasts with wide dark nipples, a sweet mouth, a merry laugh. Joys that I will never taste again.
But there was no use telling Rowan any of that. She would never believe his denials, any more than he believed hers. "There is blood on my hands, but not the blood of brothers," he said wearily. "And I've been punished."
We revisit one of the bigger obstacles of the Theon Durden theory. If Theon is the Hooded Man, why did he call himself a kinslayer?
I admit the lengthy reflection on the miller's wife doesn't look good here, but I truly don't believe Theon is capable of killing children he suspects are his own.
I'll repeat what I said the last chapter. I think Theon subconsciously blames himself for Robb dying. He will call Robb his brother later in this chapter, and express regret over not being by his side.
And Robb. Robb who had been more a brother to Theon than any son born of Balon Greyjoy's loins. Murdered at the Red Wedding, butchered by the Freys. I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.
+.+.+
Foolish woman. He might well be a broken thing, but Theon still wore a dagger. It would have been a simple thing to slide it out and drive it down between her shoulder blades. That much he was still capable of, missing teeth and broken teeth and all.
We're soon going to learn Theon is capable of more than just stabbing.
+.+.+
Reek might have done it. Would have done it, in hopes it might please Lord Ramsay. These whores meant to steal Ramsay's bride; Reek could not allow that. But the old gods had known him, had called him Theon. Ironborn, I was ironborn, Balon Greyjoy's son and rightful heir to Pyke. The stumps of his fingers itched and twitched, but he kept his dagger in its sheath.
Aww look at Bran subtly influencing the plot.
+.+.+
When Squirrel returned, the other four were with her: gaunt grey-haired Myrtle, Willow Witch-Eye with her long black braid, Frenya of the thick waist and enormous breasts, Holly with her knife. Clad as serving girls in layers of drab grey roughspun, they wore brown woolen cloaks lined with white rabbit fur. No swords, Theon saw. No axes, no hammers, no weapons but knives.
Jeyne will switch outfits with Squirrel.
I will let you decide whether this grey roughspun with a brown cloak meets girl in grey criteria.
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"Even if we do get past the guards, how do you mean to get Lady Arya out?"
Holly smiled. "Six women go in, six come out. Who looks at serving girls? We'll dress the Stark girl up as Squirrel."
Theon glanced at Squirrel. They are almost of a size. It might work. "And how does Squirrel get out?"
Of course the Arya wildling will pretend to be Arya.
+.+.+
Squirrel answered for herself. "Out a window, and straight down to the godswood. I was twelve the first time my brother took me raiding south o' your Wall. That's where I got my name. My brother said I looked like a squirrel running up a tree. I've done that Wall six times since, over and back again. I think I can climb down some stone tower."
I don't understand what's happening here. What is with this girl?
+.+.+
They are doing it all wrong. Real serving girls were always teasing the potboys, flirting with the cooks, wheedling a taste of this, a bite of that. Rowan and her scheming sisters did not want to attract notice, but their sullen silence soon had the guards giving them queer looks. "Where's Maisie and Jez and t'other girls?" one asked Theon. "The usual ones."
"Lady Arya was displeased with them," he lied. "Her water was cold before it reached the tub last time."
Maisie Williams was hired August 7th, 2009. ADWD was released July 12, 2011.
I don't think that name is a coincidence, lol. George is cute.
+.+.+
The Frey men wore the badge of the two towers, those from White Harbor displayed merman and trident. They shouldered through the storm in opposite directions and eyed each other warily as they passed, but no swords were drawn. Not here. It may be different out there in the woods.
Please no. This is the one time I don't want any interference from House Manderly.
+.+.+
Theon led the way up the stairs. I have climbed these steps a thousand times before. As a boy he would run up; descending, he would take the steps three at a time, leaping. Once he leapt right into Old Nan and knocked her to the floor. That earned him the worst thrashing he ever had at Winterfell, though it was almost tender compared to the beatings his brothers used to give him back on Pyke. He and Robb had fought many a heroic battle on these steps, slashing at one another with wooden swords. Good training, that; it brought home how hard it was to fight your way up a spiral stair against determined opposition. Ser Rodrik liked to say that one good man could hold a hundred, fighting down.
That was long ago, though. They were all dead now. Jory, old Ser Rodrik, Lord Eddard, Harwin and Hullen, Cayn and Desmond and Fat Tom, Alyn with his dreams of knighthood, Mikken who had given him his first real sword. Even Old Nan, like as not.
NO.
No, okay? No. You're wrong. She was alive in A Feast For Crows! She could still be at the Dreadfort!
She's not dead until I see the body.
+.+.+
No day had dawned inside this room. Shadows covered all. One last log crackled feebly amongst the dying embers in the hearth, and a candle flickered on the table beside a rumpled, empty bed. The girl is gone, Theon thought. She has thrown herself out a window in despair.
:(
Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. - Sansa VI, AGOT
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A tear ran down her cheek. "Tell him, you tell him. I'll do what he wants … whatever he wants … with him or … or with the dog or … please … he doesn't need to cut my feet off, I won't try to run away, not ever, I'll give him sons, I swear it, I swear it …"
Rowan whistled softly. "Gods curse the man."
"I'm a good girl," Jeyne whimpered. "They trained me."
Sorry about sharing that.
I wanted to quickly say I don't think Jeyne being pregnant serves the story at all. I can't stand that theory.
"Roose has trained you well." She left him there. - The Turncloak, ADWD
+.+.+
"Get her up, turncloak." Holly had her knife in hand. "Get her up or I will. We have to go. Get the little cunt up on her feet and shake some courage into her."
Was that necessary?
+.+.+
We are all dead, Theon thought. I told them this was folly, but none of them would listen. Abel had doomed them. All singers were half-mad.
Rhaegar shade!
+.+.+
In songs, the hero always saved the maiden from the monster's castle, but life was not a song, no more than Jeyne was Arya Stark. Her eyes are the wrong color. And there are no heroes here, only whores. Even so, he knelt beside her, pulled down the furs, touched her cheek. "You know me. I'm Theon, you remember. I know you too. I know your name."
In A Song of Ice and Fire, Theon helps save Jeyne.
+.+.+
Theon slipped his hand through hers. The stumps of his lost fingers tingled as he drew the girl to her feet. The wolfskins fell away from her. Underneath them she was naked, her small pale breasts covered with teeth marks. He heard one of the women suck in her breath.
I apologize again.
It's another Targaryen / Bolton parallel.
The queen had been cloaked and hooded as she climbed inside the royal wheelhouse that would take her down Aegon's High Hill to the waiting ship, but he heard her maids whispering after she was gone. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts. - Jaime II, AFFC
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Squirrel had stripped down to her smallclothes, and was rooting through a carved cedar chest in search of something warmer. In the end she settled for one of Lord Ramsay's quilted doublets and a well-worn pair of breeches that flapped about her legs like a ship's sails in a storm.
With Rowan's help, Theon got Jeyne Poole into Squirrel's clothes.
[...]
"I will be right beside you," Theon promised as Squirrel slipped into Lady Arya's bed and pulled the blanket up.
That's the last we'll see of Squirrel.
According to Ramsay she's dead.
If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell. - Jon XIII, ADWD
I guess we'll have to wait and see if Arya wildling is truly dead or managed to escape the castle. My gut tells me she got out. :)
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But the guards outside were huddled by the doors, backs turned against the icy wind and blown snow. Even the serjeant did not spare them more than a quick glance. Theon felt a stab of pity for him and his men. Ramsay would flay them all when he learned his bride was gone, and what he would do to Grunt and Sour Alyn did not bear thinking about.
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The icy trenches rose around them, knee high, then waist high, then higher than their heads. They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen. They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter, a thousand leagues beyond the Wall.
THE CURTAIN OF LIGHT IS REAL.
Do you think this means Jon and Daenerys forge Lightbringer in the Lands of the Long Summer?
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"Frenya, Holly, go with them," Rowan said. "We will be along with Abel. Do not wait for us." And with that, she whirled and plunged into the snow, toward the Great Hall. Willow and Myrtle hurried after her, cloaks snapping in the wind.
Quick rundown.
Squirrel was left in Jeyne's bed.
Frenya and Holly will die on the page.
We don't know if Rowan, Myrtle, and Willow survived.
Frenya and Holly dying and eventually being identified ensures Mance will be captured.
This is one of those situations where I'm not sure what I should be hoping for. Dead might be preferable. God help them if they were taken alive.
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Madder and madder, thought Theon Greyjoy. Escape had seemed unlikely with all six of Abel's women; with only two, it seemed impossible. But they had gone too far to return the girl to her bedchamber and pretend none of this had ever happened. Instead he took Jeyne by the arm and drew her down the pathway to the Battlements Gate. Only a halfgate, he reminded himself. Even if the guards let us pass, there is no way through the outer wall. On other nights, the guards had allowed Theon through, but all those times he'd come alone. He would not pass so easily with three serving girls in tow, and if the guards looked beneath Jeyne's hood and recognized Lord Ramsay's bride …
Did a single person think any of this through? Lol.
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"Reek, is that you?"
Yes, he meant to say. Instead he heard himself reply, "Theon Greyjoy. I … I have brought some women for you."
"You poor boys must be freezing," said Holly. "Here, let me warm you up." She slipped past the guard's spearpoint and reached up to his face, pulling loose the half-frozen scarf to plant a kiss upon his mouth. And as their lips touched, her blade slid through the meat of his neck, just below the ear. Theon saw the man's eyes widen. There was blood on Holly's lips as she stepped back, and blood dribbling from his mouth as he fell.
I don't know about you guys, but I'm picking up on a pattern here.
Osha slit Drennan's throat.
His throat had been opened ear to ear. A ragged tunic concealed the half-healed scars on his back, but his boots were scattered amidst the rushes, and his breeches tangled about his feet. - Theon IV, ACOK
Ygritte and knives.
"I'd cut his throat while he slept. You know nothing, Jon Snow." Ygritte twisted like an eel and wrenched away from him. - Jon V, ASOS
x
"I'm no crow wife!" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. - Jon V, ASOS
Val and knives.
If you force her to marry a man she does not want, she is like to slit his throat on their wedding night. - Jon I, ADWD
x
All the same, the wildling princess was not beloved of her gaolers. She scorned them all as "kneelers," and had thrice attempted to escape. When one man-at-arms grew careless in her presence she had snatched his dagger from its sheath and stabbed him in the neck. - Jon III, ADWD
The spearwives and their knives.
If the man had touched Jeyne, she might have screamed. Then Holly would have opened his throat for him with the knife hidden up her sleeve. - Theon I, ADWD
x
Clad as serving girls in layers of drab grey roughspun, they wore brown woolen cloaks lined with white rabbit fur. No swords, Theon saw. No axes, no hammers, no weapons but knives. - Theon I, ADWD
x
And as their lips touched, her blade slid through the meat of his neck, just below the ear. - Theon I, ADWD
The point I'm trying to make is that none of the previous victims were stabbed or had their throat cut.
The Ryswell man-at-arms was thrown from the battlements.
The naked Frey squire died from exposure.
The Flint crossbowan was found in the stables with a broken skull.
Yellow Dick was found in a snowdrift with his penis cut off, and shoved into his broken mouth.
I've watched enough Criminal Minds to know none of this fits their pattern of criminal behaviour.
"These dead were all strong men," said Roger Ryswell, "and none of them were stabbed. The turncloak's not our killer." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD
Looking back, I think that line was meant to cast doubt on the spearwives.
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The second guard was still gaping in confusion when Frenya grabbed the shaft of his spear. They struggled for a moment, tugging, till the woman wrenched the weapon from his fingers and clouted him across the temple with its butt. As he stumbled backwards, she spun the spear around and drove its point through his belly with a grunt.
Jeyne Poole let out a shrill, high scream.
+.+.+
On the drawbridge, Frenya stopped and turned. "Go on. I will hold the kneelers here." The bloody spear was still clutched in her big hands.
I have to keep highlighting these incredible women, but it still makes no sense why they're doing this.
+.+.+
Theon was staggering by the time he reached the foot of the stair. He slung the girl over his shoulder and began to climb. Jeyne had ceased to struggle by then, and she was such a little thing besides … but the steps were slick with ice beneath soft powdery snow, and halfway up he lost his footing and went down hard on one knee.
Theon's able to carry Jeyne up stairs in feet of snow and ice. I doubt Jeyne is any less than one hundred pounds.
He's not as weak as Barbrey Dustin thinks he is.
+.+.+
As he leaned up against a merlon, breathing hard, Theon could hear the shouting from below, where Frenya was fighting half a dozen guardsmen in the snow. "Which way?" he shouted at Holly. "Where do we go now? How do we get out?"
The fury on Holly's face turned to horror. "Oh, fuck me bloody. The rope." She gave a hysterical laugh. "Frenya has the rope." Then she grunted and grabbed her stomach. A quarrel had sprouted from her gut. When she wrapped a hand around it, blood leaked through her fingers. "Kneelers on the inner wall …" she gasped, before a second shaft appeared between her breasts. Holly grabbed for the nearest merlon and fell. The snow that she'd knocked loose buried her with a soft thump.
Shouts rang out from their left. Jeyne Poole was staring down at Holly as the snowy blanket over her turned from white to red.
Rest in peace, Frenya and Holly.
Quick question for the audience, did you prefer this or Theon throwing Miranda over the ramparts?
+.+.+
The wind was howling, and he and the girl were trapped.
The crossbow snapped. A bolt passed within a foot of him, shattering the crust of frozen snow that had plugged the closest crenel. Of Abel, Rowan, Squirrel, and the others there was no sign. He and the girl were alone. If they take us alive, they will deliver us to Ramsay.
Theon grabbed Jeyne about the waist and jumped.
He did it. He remembered his name.
Final thoughts:
Of course I would have to do Theon and locusts back-to-back. What did I expect?
I have a confession to make. Ever since Davos left the story, and Theon stopped being Reek, he's been my favourite POV.
Don't worry, I still hate him.
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