"Kevan, Robb Stark cannot be allowed to return alive to Winterfell."
"I understand, brother."
After joining Balon Greyjoy in taking Deepwood Motte, Tywin said this to Kevan on the way back to his own tent.
Late at night, when most people had already fallen asleep—leaving only a few responsible for patrols, or some ironborn still drinking and making noise—Kevan stepped out of his tent with a dagger tucked inside his robe.
He pretended to be looking for a place to relieve himself, but in truth he made a detour, quietly circling around and creeping toward the spot where Robb Stark was being held.
Yet when he arrived, what he saw were two corpses lying sprawled beside the campfire.
Catching sight of this without any mental preparation, Kevan Lannister was jolted in alarm. He immediately raised his head and looked toward where Robb Stark was bound.
Against the trunk of an oak tree, Robb was still tied there.
His head hung low, his neck slack, and in the dim surroundings it was impossible to tell whether he was still alive.
Kevan's brows furrowed slightly. He adjusted his grip on the dagger, holding it upright with the blade angled downward, then swept his gaze around before cautiously stepping forward.
There was no one in sight. Had someone gotten here first?
The question rose unbidden in Kevan's mind.
But regardless of the truth, he had to confirm whether Robb Stark was alive.
If he was not dead, then he would finish the job with a few more thrusts.
His movements were careful and concealed, but he was still noticed—by Robb, who had discovered him early and was pretending to remain unconscious while actually watching through half-lidded eyes.
The smooth surface of the dagger reflected a cold gleam in the firelight.
Sensing the hostile intent, Robb could hold back no longer. He suddenly barked in a low voice, "Who are you? What are you trying to do?!"
Kevan had not expected Robb to be awake. The shout startled him into an instinctive pause.
"You're still alive?! Then who did this?"
Both men were full of questions, and each was left momentarily at a loss by the other's words.
But the instant the question left his mouth, before Robb could answer, Kevan abruptly realized what he was asking.
What did it matter who had done this? What did that have to do with him? He had come here for one purpose—to send Robb Stark to his death.
And since Robb was not dead, all the better that he confirm it personally.
"I'm sorry, Robb Stark. You must die… may the gods forgive me."
As the words fell, he seized the dagger and drove it in a single thrust toward Robb's chest.
Yet just as his killing intent rose and his hand had only begun to move, a dark shadow suddenly burst out from behind a nearby thicket at his side—and clamped down with perfect accuracy on his wrist.
At this moment, with all his attention fixed on Robb, Kevan failed to notice any movement at his side—especially since the dark shadow had deliberately circled around to strike from his rear flank.
Before the dagger in Kevan's hand could touch Robb, Grey Wind burst out of the brush and clamped down on his wrist in a single bite, slamming his entire body hard to the ground.
From the time Eddard Stark and his sons had first found those direwolf pups in the frostlands to now, more than a year had passed.
The wolf cubs that had once still been nursing had grown so large that, standing upright, they now towered over most men.
Even though Kevan himself was also strong—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, and heavyset—he was still knocked flat by Grey Wind in a single charge.
And after bowling him over, Grey Wind did not stop there.
The massive wolf jaws clamped around Kevan Lannister's wrist. With a sudden snap of its sharp, powerful fangs, it shattered the bones of his wrist with terrifying ease.
Before Kevan could even cry out in pain, Grey Wind followed up by pinning the fallen Kevan Lannister with two powerful foreclaws. Before he could move, the jaws already locked onto him began to shake wildly like a windmill, tearing and ripping.
As it tore, it also kicked backward with its hind legs, using its own savage method to inflict the greatest possible damage on its enemy.
Kevan Lannister, who had just been about to strike at Robb, felt a sudden pain in his wrist—and then, in the next instant, was dragged down by an overwhelming force.
In the moment he hit the ground, he still had no time to register what had happened. The next second, he was being dragged and torn across the ground by the wrist.
The dagger in his hand had vanished the instant his wrist was crushed—he had no idea where it had fallen.
Only then did Kevan finally scream in pain.
Yet after only a couple of agonized cries, he suddenly felt his right arm grow strangely light.
He looked down instinctively, only to see that his accustomed right hand had been bitten clean off by the direwolf.
The flesh and bone torn apart by sharp fangs were jagged and uneven. The moment the blood vessels were ripped free, blood poured out uncontrollably, even spurting in bursts.
Worse still, under the relentless pulling and tearing of those fangs, several tendons in his arm were not bitten through at once. Instead, they were dragged out of the arm, stretched to an appalling length before finally snapping under the strain.
That blow of sheer physical pain forced Kevan to let out a scream even louder than before.
Where could he still spare a thought for the purpose that had brought him here?
Yet just as his cries left his mouth for only a few moments, and the curses on his lips had only begun to form, all the noise abruptly cut off, replaced by a low, muffled gurgling sound.
His vision blurred. Before he could react to what had happened—before he could even make out who had appeared before him—Robb Stark could only stare blankly at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.
Because Kevan Lannister—who had just had his wrist bitten clean through by Grey Wind, then been dragged and torn apart, screaming in agony—now suddenly had a short bolt lodged in his neck.
That short bolt had come flying from not far away, appearing abruptly and without the slightest warning.
Yet before Robb could figure out what had actually happened, it became clear that the surprise attack involved more than a single bolt.
As the first short bolt shot in from nearby and pierced straight through Kevan's throat, physically silencing him, the next instant—before anyone could react—several more bolts came streaking in after it.
A series of dull, wet thuds sounded. Kevan, who had been lying on the ground clutching his arm and howling in pain, now stared wide-eyed as his pupils gradually began to dilate.
Across his chest and his head, in the span of barely a second, at least five or six short bolts had embedded themselves in his body.
With his chest and throat riddled through, all that remained was more air going out than coming in.
This sudden, relentless chain of attacks left Robb—still bound to the tree trunk—unable to keep up.
He lifted his head blankly, staring into the darkness before him.
A few seconds later, a slender woman with long legs came walking over, a crossbow held in her hands, with several ironborn following behind her.
Before any words were spoken, the moment she arrived at the scene, Asha Greyjoy—who had been tailing Kevan all along—caught sight of the two corpses lying dead beside the campfire.
Then there was the direwolf, which had already dropped the severed hand from its mouth, had witnessed them kill Kevan with its own eyes, and now, sensing a threat, bared its fangs. Its hackles bristled, and its gaze locked directly onto her.
With just a single look, Asha understood how the two soldiers charged with guarding Robb Stark had died.
Realizing what had happened, and suddenly facing such a monstrous beast, the atmosphere between the two sides grew tense in an instant.
Asha had not expected to see a direwolf here—much less one that had already killed two of her men.
Without the slightest hesitation, Asha raised her hand and tossed aside the crossbow she had just fired, then smoothly drew the short blade from behind her and brought it up in front of her in a defensive stance.
Behind her, the several ironborn who had followed Kevan over together reacted as well—some rapidly drawing and cocking their bows, others likewise pulling out the weapons they carried on them.
Faced with danger, killing intent collided in an instant.
Threatened, Grey Wind let out a low growl. No longer holding position, it immediately leapt forward, randomly selecting the nearest enemy and clamping down with the same precision on his throat.
Compared to a wrist where bone and flesh were joined and relatively hard, a human neck with no protection at all was incomparably fragile.
With a single bite, Grey Wind did not even bother with any extra movement, simply tearing out the unlucky man's throat in one fluid motion.
The unfortunate Greyjoy soldier had no time to react to Grey Wind's wind-swift attack. His throat was ripped apart, and blood sprayed uncontrollably two or three steps away.
But that was all Grey Wind could manage.
Because in the very next second, several arrows flew past it—and two of them struck home.
One pierced its hind leg; another went straight through its waist and abdomen.
The unlucky man whose throat had been torn out collapsed at the same time as it did, the gushing blood splashing all over Grey Wind.
Even after falling, Grey Wind instinctively tried to rise and keep fighting.
Yet the searing pain in its abdomen, along with the hind leg that had also been pierced, made it stumble uncontrollably and collapse again. Only then did it realize it was injured.
The direwolf whined, baring its fangs, a low sound rumbling in its throat as it threatened the humans before it to stay back—still trying to attack.
"Stop—stop!"
The fight had erupted in an instant. By the time Robb reacted, everything was already over.
Seeing Grey Wind with two arrows lodged in it—one of them struck squarely through the waist and abdomen—Robb's heart clenched violently, and he shouted for them to stop.
He knew Grey Wind had come to save him.
But watching the companion he had raised with his own hands now facing death like this, Robb felt only pain.
As if those two arrows had been shot into his own body.
Grey Wind struggled again, trying to stand, but its hindquarters were as if paralyzed, utterly unresponsive.
Even so, though it was in agony—baring its teeth and whimpering low—it still dragged its broken body forward and placed itself in front of Robb.
Seeing this display of loyal protection, Asha curled her lip slightly and asked offhandedly, "Your wolf? Looks very loyal."
"I've heard of it. It seems your brothers and sisters each have one?"
Seeing that they were no longer attacking, Robb hurriedly said, "Yes. Stop—don't hurt it anymore."
Asha, of course, had no intention of agreeing to Robb's unreasonable request.
"But it killed our men."
"It was defending itself. You were the ones who attacked first," Robb argued.
This time, however, before Asha could respond, one of the ironborn at the side—who had already nocked another arrow—paid no attention to anything they were saying.
He aimed directly at Grey Wind's neck and loosed the bowstring.
The arrow tore through the air with a sharp whine, the bowstring snapping with a hard thrum.
Robb, who had been about to say something more, stared in despair, his eyes widening as he watched the arrow pierce straight through Grey Wind's neck—shooting it down with a single shot.
Only then did the ironborn who had struck lower the longbow in his hands, spitting contemptuously to the side.
"This beast killed three of my men, and you want me to let it go?"
"My arrow just now should've been aimed at your throat!"
Asha had not expected the man who came with her to act so decisively. She turned her head and saw that it was a longship captain.
The two unlucky men who had been on night watch seemed to have been his people.
Oh—no, not just two. Another one had just died as well. Judging by the wounds, all of them had been made by that direwolf.
After cursing, the captain was still not satisfied. He strode forward and swung a punch straight into Robb's face.
Robb, who was still standing there in a daze, staring at Grey Wind—its waist and abdomen pierced, its neck shot through—never noticed the man approaching. And even if he had, it would not have mattered.
The hemp rope as thick as a thumb bound him tightly, leaving him utterly unable to move.
So when the punch landed, Robb could only take it head-on, losing two teeth from the blow.
Seeing that the captain, enraged over the deaths of three of his men, was about to strike again, Asha had no choice but to step forward and pull him back.
"Enough. My father wants him alive."
Asha's face was tinged with displeasure.
But the furious captain still refused to relent. "Then I'll take his arm, cut off one ear, and then take one of his eyes."
Seeing that the man would not listen, Asha directly pressed the short blade she had just drawn against his neck. "Do you think my words don't count? Or are you challenging me?"
Feeling the cold steel at his throat, the man finally calmed down.
More importantly, the crew of Asha Greyjoy's Black Wind had also closed in around them.
As a captain who personally commanded her warship in battle and led her men fighting on the front lines, Asha inspired fierce loyalty among her crew.
Asha was willing to die for these men—and they were willing to do the same for her.
Of course, that did not exclude the fact that more than half of them also wanted to sleep with her.
He shot Asha a hard glare. "Whore. Looks like you've taken a liking to this man. Then make use of him while he's still of use—best leave behind a wolf's whelp while you're at it!"
Seeing that nothing more could be done, the captain could only give it up.
He muttered a few curses under his breath, then turned and left.
What he had done was already enough to account for himself to his remaining men.
As an ironborn herself, Asha of course understood that the captain's actions were the correct ones. Had he not acted this way, then once word of tonight's events spread, the sailors on his ship would likely have left by the next day.
No ironborn would follow a coward.
If Robb Stark had not been forbidden to die, she would not have come forward to stop him in the first place.
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