A few days had passed since Jon's arrival at Winterfell, and nothing particularly remarkable had happened since the feast.
Winter, the direwolf, was getting better and better with each passing day, and as of now, she was able to stand on her own legs. It would not be long before she would be running across the Winterfell yard.
Maester Luwin had been almost shocked to see such a speedy recovery from the mother direwolf. He had assumed that direwolves were simply built a bit differently than other wild animals. Little did he know that it was the result of the magic coursing within her body.
At the same time, the question and dilemma over her presence had also been settled. Seeing and witnessing how docile and unassertive Winter had been, Ned had agreed for her to remain at Winterfell. Though Catelyn had not been very pleased with the decision, she had accepted the decision without a lot of fuss.
Still, it was known and accepted by all that she would eventually leave Winterfell with Jon. While Winter was close to and showed affection for every Stark child and their direwolves, she was undoubtedly closest to Jon and Ghost. The cubs on the other hand were growing rapidly. They were playful, adorable and troublesome in a cute manner. They had imbued the castle of Winterfell with a chaotic energy.
Jon, during these days, had spent quite some time with his siblings, especially Arya. She would always find him first thing in the morning and would almost force him to share and narrate one of the stories of his adventures. She was most interested in how he had used wild animals to repel the combined forces of the Dothraki and the Golden Company, and how he had defeated eighteen Khals at the same time. Bran and Rickon would also join in the fun most of the time.
Robb, too, had become a lot more open and comfortable with him. He would often join Jon for casual conversations.
Though the conversations started casually, Robb would often veer them towards the administrative reforms that Jon had introduced in his territories. He was very interested in learning how administration was carried out in his cities, and Jon was all too pleased to teach his brother. Robb was to be the next Lord of Winterfell and these were things he needed to know. Robb, since his defeat at the hands of Jon had not asked for another duel.
Jon had also spent some time with Ned Stark. They would occasionally encounter each other in the castle and would take a walk together. Nothing more. They had talked about a few things, though neither of the two had asked the deeper questions that they truly wanted to ask each other. They had refrained from doing so and were probably waiting for the right opportunity.
Apart from that, the majority of the residents of Winterfell were busy with preparations for the arrival of King Robert Baratheon. The size of the convoy traveling alongside Robert was quite large. A lot of people who would not normally have traveled to Winterfell were arriving solely because of Jon's presence. The news was that the convoy had left King's Landing and had been on the road for a few days.
Another rather interesting development had taken place in regard to Arya. She had seen General Sylvia train in the training yard of Winterfell and had been fascinated ever since.
She constantly pestered both Sylvia and Jon to train her in swordplay. Catelyn had been furious with her, and she would have locked Arya in her room if not for Ned's interference. However, that did not mean Arya's stubbornness had lessened. She still whined to Jon to train her. For now, Jon was maintaining his silence. He had neither agreed nor refused her.
"Wow!" Arya clapped her hands cheerfully as Sylvia defeated a soldier of the Supreme Shadow in a duel. "You are so brilliant, General Sylvia."
Sylvia had been in the training yard, duelling with a soldier of the Supreme Shadow. Or rather, she was training the Supreme Shadows. Fighting against them hardly ever warmed her muscles. If she needed a true duel, she would have to look for either Lord Aeos or Lady Melisandre.
A smile appeared on Sylvia's stoic face. Jon had not told them anything, but Sylvia knew that Arya was special and that Jon cared deeply for her.
Before Sylvia could leave the ring and approach Arya, a voice filled with sarcasm and mockery cut across the training yard.
"Who knows if this defeat is even genuine?" The voice chuckled. "For all we know, this could very well be a scripted duel."
Every eye in the yard turned and landed on a man standing near the weapon rack. It was Theon Greyjoy. A mocking expression was plastered on his face.
"Theon!" Jory Cassel snapped. "What bullshit are you spewing? Know your limits."
Theon merely rolled his eyes and took a step forward. Robb was standing not too far away from the yard, a deep frown forming on his face. He was about to step up to stop this madness, but Theon did not give him the chance.
"Am I spewing bullshit?" Theon asked. "Does everyone really expect me to believe that this lady is the general of an army numbering twenty or thirty thousand?"
"A lady?" He questioned. "Do all of you seriously believe this? I do not know."
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. Apart from that, there was barely any change in her expression.
"You must be Theon Greyjoy, right?" She mumbled.
Theon nodded his head haughtily.
"I have heard about you," she said. "Are you not the same pimp whose father handed his son over to House Stark after losing a war?"
"Or are you the same pimp whose father, Balon Greyjoy, asked a hundred thralls of the Iron Islands to fuck your mother when you were about to be born, so that you would not be born cockless like him?"
"Though Balon Greyjoy did not realize that since he was cockless, how could he have ever produced a child in the first place?"
"I heard that Lord Aeos told you that the next time you go to the Iron Islands, you should make sure to find out who your real father is. That you would probably need to check every thrall on the islands," she said. "Did you find it?"
"Did you find out who your father was?" She questioned.
By the time Sylvia was finished, Theon had turned completely red. He was burning with anger and rage. This was the exact same insult that Jon had thrown at him on the last day before leaving Winterfell. And now he was being humiliated with it once again? He could not take it.
In one motion, he pulled the sword from his waist and pointed it directly at Sylvia.
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