"Ned," Catelyn said, her voice edged with desperation. "What decision are you about to make?"
"You cannot cause a diplomatic and political catastrophe just because Theon Greyjoy hurled a few insults at Jon and his mother," she continued. "Theon is the heir to the Iron Islands. You need to tread carefully. The King is on his way to Winterfell. Surely you are not going to take a step that will plunge House Stark into a perilous situation."
"You need to think every action of yours very carefully," she added. "You need to tread very precariously."
"Whatever decision I make, it will be to deliver justice," he replied, his voice gruff and unyielding. "I will not make a choice that stains the honor of House Stark or compromises our position."
"I know what is best for House Stark," he remarked.
He did not give Catelyn a chance to respond. Striding past her, he pulled open the heavy door and left the chambers.
It was the next morning after the violent altercation between General Sylvia and Theon in the training yard. The previous day and the night has passed with a very strange atmosphere in Winterfell. All the liveliness that had permeated the castle since Jon's arrival had suddenly been received by oppressiveness. The delightful laughter of Rickon, Bran and Arya had been replaced by hushed whispers of worries. Jon and his convoy had almost retreated with barely a few of them stepping out of their chambers.
True to Ned's word, a formal hearing had been scheduled to address Theon's crimes.
Catelyn was fraught with worry. Her immediate fear was that Ned might render a judgment that jeopardized their political standing, but beneath that pragmatic concern lay a deeper, more personal anxiety.
Her long buried insecurities and fright were violently bubbling to the surface. For years, she had suppressed the memory of Ned's infidelity and the dishonor that had tainted her self-respect.
She had dreaded even the smallest thought of the woman Ned had slept with. She did not wish to wonder if she was alive or dead. She did not wish to contemplate if Ned still harbored any lingering affection for that woman. If he still lost himself in nostalgia for her. She had spent a lifetime avoiding these thoughts.
But now, she was forced to confront those very thoughts. She knew that, however much she resisted, she would instinctively measure Ned's past feelings by his present judgment.
If his ruling was harsh, if he meted out a severe, tangible punishment to Theon for those words, the agonizing suspicion that Ned still cared deeply for Jon's mother would take root in her heart. It would prove that the insult to that unknown woman still had the power to wound him. Even if she did not wish she would not be able to stop herself.
.
.
.
By the time Ned Stark entered the main hall of Winterfell, it was already filled to the brim. Every person allowed to attend the hearing was present inside the hall. And those who were not able to attend the hearing were waiting eagerly for any news to emerge from within.
As he walked down the path leading to the high table flanked by the gathered crowd, he could not help but experience flashes of the day he had held a similar hearing for almost the exact same offense at the hands of no one but Theon Greyjoy.
A clear physical division had formed within the hall. The residents of Winterfell were seated on one side, with Catelyn, Robb, and the rest of House Stark occupying the front row. On the opposite side sat Jon's entourage, with Jon, General Sylvia, and Lady Melisandre at the forefront.
Ned steeled his nerves as he passed Jon and stepped up to the high table. A single large chair had been placed behind it, and Ned took his seat.
Once he was seated, three more men entered the hall. Theon, flanked by Jory Cassel and another guard, was practically dragged into the hall. The bones that Sylvia had shattered had been tended to by Maester Luwin. Splints were now tightly strapped around his broken limbs to hold them in place.
He was dragged to the centre of the room and was forced into a single chair directly in front of Ned Stark. Jory and the guard remained standing firmly behind him.
The pain was clearly visible on Theon's pale face, but mixed with that agony was an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred and rage. His eyes remained fixed on Jon and Slyvia. And in his heart, he was wishing for nothing more than to rise and run him through with a sword. He clearly did not consider whether he had the capabilities or not.
But he was not the only one harboring such venom. All of Lord Aeos's soldiers and Dothraki riders stared at Theon with matching hostility. Had it not been for their absolute obedience to Lord Aeos's implied orders, they would have already butchered the Ironborn where he stood.
Among House Stark, Arya glared at Theon with open fury. She was livid. In her eyes, Theon had ruined all the joyous times she had been experiencing. Bran and Rickon, too, looked visibly upset with him.
Sansa, however, kept her thoughts neutral, primarily worrying about how this ugly affair would impact House Stark and overshadow the King's impending visit to Winterfell.
Robb Stark, on the other hand, was torn by a big dilemma. Years ago, he had failed to take a stand during a similar incident and had lost a brother because of it. Now, history was repeating itself.
He knew Theon was entirely in the wrong. It was him who had provoked General Sylvia and started the madness.
But Robb had also grown up with Theon. He did not wish to see him suffer a brutal punishment, reasoning that three shattered bones were surely consequence enough. Robb could only hope that whatever judgment his father passed would resolve this internal conflict. Whatever the verdict, he would accept it completely. It would surely solve his dilemma.
"Let us begin," Ned's voice boomed, shattering the tense silence of the hall.
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