[Chapter Size: 1000 Words.]
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Suddenly, a host of nearly ten thousand appeared not far from Harrenhal.
At its head rode Tyrion.
Soon he was face-to-face with his father.
"Ten thousand clansmen from the Mountains of the Moon. I gathered them on my way here." Tyrion's tone brimmed with pride, straining to impress Tywin.
Pouring himself a cup of wine, Tyrion asked, "So, who are we fighting now? The North? I narrowly escaped them."
Tyrion had no knowledge of recent events in King's Landing. He still believed that Catelyn Stark had captured him, sparking the conflict between North and West.
"Robert is dead, slain by a boar's tusks."
Tyrion took a sip of wine. "My sister must be delighted."
"Ned Stark has been executed for treason, by Joffrey's command."
The crash of breaking glass followed as Tyrion dropped his cup. "What? In the name of the Seven, Ned? Treason?" His voice rang with disbelief.
Tywin then gave his son a brief account of what had transpired. Tyrion could only sigh at how much his sister doted upon Joffrey.
No sane person, he thought, would have done such a thing.
Tywin had raised nearly sixty thousand men in total, entrusting thirty thousand to Jaime. Yet ten thousand of them had been defeated, and Jaime captured. The blow to Tywin's bannermen was severe.
Fortune, however, had brought Tyrion back with ten thousand clansmen. Tywin told him that his promise would not be taken lightly, and that the terms offered to Tyrion would be far more generous than those granted to Theon.
Shagga, the mountain clans' leader, insisted that halfmen must fight beside them. Tyrion readily agreed.
With the clans now under his command, Tywin resolved to take the offensive against the North. In the original tale, Jaime's capture occurred shortly after Tyrion's return. But this time, Tyrion had arrived later, for reasons unknown.
While events unfolded there, Theon was hardly idle. He had stationed his men a safe distance from Riverrun, continuing to spy on the castle.
Along the way, his scouts encountered scattered bands of defeated soldiers from both the western and northern fronts.
"My lord, Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, remains the sole commander holding Riverrun. There are at least four thousand men inside the walls. Robb Stark has withdrawn."
Theon narrowed his eyes at the report. Riverrun was a fortress without equal. Though the Riverlands themselves offered little natural defense, Riverrun stood as a barrier unto itself.
The castle sat in a triangle at the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, surrounded by water on three sides.
Only three drawbridges linked it to land, and once raised, Riverrun became an island.
Were it not for Edmure's eagerness for glory, Jaime would have had little chance of taking it.
Likewise, if Theon attempted an assault now, he could never hope to succeed. Such an attack would only bleed his men.
Unless the drawbridge were lowered from within, there was no way into the city.
Turning the thought over in his mind, Theon devised a plan. By now, Robb must surely have learned that Theon was no ally. Gaining entrance openly was impossible.
The only chance was to slip inside and find a moment to lower the bridge.
Theon led five thousand men, marching swiftly toward Riverrun. Once his plan was confirmed, he no longer bothered to conceal the trail of his host, advancing openly and deliberately.
Soon, five thousand Ironborn stood arrayed outside Riverrun, their banners of the kraken flying high.
Theon crossed the stone causeway alone, approaching the fortress. The causeway ended abruptly several meters from the gates; to go further, the drawbridge had to be lowered.
With a creak of chains, the bridge descended.
Out rode Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, his wounds still visibly unhealed.
"Theon Greyjoy, I know you, traitor!" the Blackfish spat. "You are nothing but a craven flatterer, more contemptible than your father, Balon, for at least he never bent the knee to the Iron Throne!"
Theon smiled. "Then my father rebelled and perished for it. My brothers died with him. Yet here I stand, alive."
"The stores of Riverrun will last another year. I hope you can endure as long." With that, Brynden turned his back, unwilling to waste further words on Theon.
Theon watched silently as the drawbridge rose again and the towering walls of Riverrun loomed above. He gave a slight nod and returned to his camp.
That night, he took up a grappling hook and rowed alone in a small boat toward Riverrun's southern drawbridge, where the guards were fewer. It would be the surest path for his men to enter once inside.
Brynden would never imagine that Theon would attempt to scale Riverrun's walls by himself.
At the base of the fortress, his shadow flickered in the moonlight.
In moments, Theon clambered to the top of the wall. The guards on watch spotted the armored intruder and immediately sounded the warhorn.
Outside, the Ironborn nobles wiped cold sweat from their brows, praying fervently. They had never wanted Theon to take such a risk alone. Yet after what he had accomplished in King's Landing, none dared forbid him.
On the wall, Theon vaulted down toward the drawbridge's inner mechanism. With a sweep of his sword, he severed the thick rope.
The soldiers gaped as he leapt from a height of fifteen meters. "Is he mad? Suicidal?"
But the thunderous crash of the collapsing drawbridge jolted them from their stupor. They rushed down the stairs, only to find Theon already standing beneath, clutching his blade.
At the sound, the Ironborn outside surged forward, storming across the fallen bridge.
Theon cut down the five guards stationed there, but the horn's cry had roused the garrison. More and more men began to converge upon him.
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