The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

64.

Massey

 
I took Broden inside, the two of us finding a seat in the Great Hall warmed by the roaring fire that crackled not too far from where we sat. I removed my gloves, a bit of caked mud crumbling off of them and onto the table between us before I swept it off. For a moment, I took the time to look at my brother. Really look at him. Part of me still couldn't believe the man across from me was the same boy I'd last seen just outside all those years ago.

"I wrote you," I began cautiously. "Even when Robb and Theon advised me not to. I sent letters to King's Landing, just hoping you'd receive one and let me know you were alright. Did you? Receive any?"

Broden shook his head almost reluctantly. "After everything happened, what little correspondence was allowed was stripped completely."

A flash of something made my stomach turn— anger, or sorrow. Both.

"Why even keep you, then? If they trusted you so little."

"Same reason they kept Sansa Stark, I suppose. Enemies closer and that." He took a second, something obviously on his mind as he choked back a soft noise. He wet his lips before speaking again. "When I heard about Robb, Massey, I thought—"

   I reached across as he paused, placing my hand over his without a word, knowing already what he was trying to tell me.

   "I thought that maybe you were with them, caught in that horror," he went on, avoiding my eyes and shifting his jaw. "I thought you were at the Twins, Massey. Word travelled so slowly for me after I left the Lannisters. I thought..."

   "Me too," I cut in to stop him from working himself up further. "I thought many times, in the darker hours I laid awake, that you were gone. But, I'm here. And, you're here. We're together now, aren't we? Safe."

   He steadied himself and nodded. But, before I got the chance to ask him to elaborate on his departure from the Lannister army, Sansa and Jon and the Queen were all shuffled into the hall, along with a host of other lords and ladies. Something important was to be discussed. Knowing that much from their urgent strides alone, I rose from my seat to leave, Broden mirroring my actions. Just then, though, Jon spoke to me for the first time in at least two days.

"Stay," he said simply, looking between my brother and I. "Both of you."

I nodded, not questioning him for a second. As the others crowded in and gathered around the tables, the guest that had caused the commotion entered the hall, approaching the table that held the Queen and the Starks. It wasn't hard to tell who it was, though he was far more weathered than when I'd met him. Standing tall in the face of so many enemies was Jaime Lannister. Broden kept his eyes trained on Ser Jaime, watching intently as he came to stand before the Queen. My brother looked nearly awestruck, and perhaps I did too.

Ser Jaime went on to speak of some disappointing news. News that Cersei had lied, news that she wasn't sending any troops at all to help defend against the Dead. News that she had far more forces than we'd originally thought. I pondered immediately why he might be offering such information willingly. My own worries were echoed aloud by Daenerys, who looked and sounded as though she might have Ser Jaime executed on the spot.

When she didn't, the room dispersed, albeit far more tensely than I'd have liked. Broden's mind was scattered now, which was easy to tell by the faraway look in his eyes. He paid no attention to me, or to the fact that he was in the midst of explaining so much to me when the hall transformed into a court of sorts. As the rest of the people inside poured out into the halls, my brother's footsteps followed Ser Jaime's out into the yard as if fixed in some sort of trance. I hurried behind him, the both of us coming to a stop outside of the walls where our boots once again met snow.