[Chapter Size: 1200 Words.]
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When Theon's army reached Seagard, the Freys had only just recovered.
The Lord of Seagard was a hardened man, relying on more than a thousand soldiers to defend his stronghold while waiting for Walder Frey to come to his aid.
The Freys and the Lord of Seagard had always been close allies, and their castles stood not far from one another.
Yet Seagard City gravely underestimated Theon's strength. To the desperate eyes of its lord, Theon seemed to storm the city walls alone. Under a rain of arrows, he did not flinch.
As he scaled the wall, a massive crossbow suddenly loosed a bolt at him. Struck before he could react, Theon was hurled to the ground.
But before the defenders could rejoice, Theon rose from the scarred wall, grinning. "Damn, that crossbow packs quite a punch!"
He seized a massive two-handed axe from the ground, a weapon forged for him as a temporary measure by a blacksmith. Once clad in armor, Theon's strength was quintupled, and all lesser weapons felt far too light in comparison.
Seeing the armored man hefting a colossal axe, panic swept through the defenders on the walls. Then, without hesitation, Theon leapt from the battlements, crashing down inside and smashing the gate's locking bar from within.
At the sight of the gate flung open, five hundred riders surged forward, storming into Seagard.
Realizing there was no escape, the Lord of Seagard drew his sword and committed suicide. His men, seeing their lord fall, cast down their weapons and surrendered.
From a distance, Lucifor watched, eyes wide. Beside him, Kazim muttered, "His Majesty Theon is the embodiment of the gods." He tapped Lucifor lightly on the head, but the younger man ignored him, his thoughts consumed by the lone warrior who had taken the city.
Kazim shook his head. "What a pity! He's been bewitched by His Majesty before achieving anything of his own."
At that moment, Lucifor snapped from his trance, glaring at the city gate with fierce determination. He drew his sword and charged with his two hundred men.
Kazim remained where he was. Unlike Lucifor, he belonged to the king's guard and could not act without Theon's command. Only later followers like Lucifor could rush ahead with their men.
Only after all five hundred cavalry had entered did Amice begin to marshal her forces toward the city.
The truth was that Theon had long desired to seize Seagard. But at that time, more than twenty thousand Northerners and fifty thousand Westermen were locked in fierce battle, and Theon's few thousand men were far too few.
Now, however, the situation had changed. The North lay ravaged, the Riverlands in ruins, and no great lords remained. The Lannisters in the West were preoccupied with mustering their strength to secure the Iron Throne.
With his renewed army, Theon feared no one, so long as the old lion Tywin did not personally lead his forces.
But Tywin was entangled with Olenna Tyrell and had no time to concern himself with the wreckage of the Riverlands.
From Seagard, Theon gazed westward at the Ironmen's Strait. With Seagard in his grasp, reaching the Iron Islands would be far easier.
Three days after Theon captured Seagard, the Freys sent a letter pledging fealty, on the condition that Theon marry one of Walder Frey's daughters.
"What is that old fool thinking? Who would marry into his cursed house now? He doesn't even respect guest right!" Rubeus scoffed.
"Of course!" Theon laughed. "As for the so-called Red Wedding? If it had been me, I'd have gifted Walder Frey's own head to his daughter as a wedding present!"
Rubeus looked stunned. "Your Majesty, you would humor Walder Frey's delusions?" His voice trembled with disbelief.
"Why not? Do you truly think Roose Bolton can hold the North? The Starks still have two sons alive, one of them a prodigy unlike any other."
Rubeus froze, realization dawning. "I see… you intend to keep Walder Frey as a pawn. If the Starks destroy Roose Bolton, Walder Frey can still block their advance southward!"
It was exactly as Theon had planned. He had already discovered the truth: since the Greenseer had vanished and Theon himself had not attacked Winterfell as in the original tale, both Bran and Rickon Stark were still alive.
The Stark family had ruled the North for eight thousand years, their authority deeply entrenched. The Boltons had only one path to replace them, kill Bran and Rickon and subdue the remaining northern lords.
Otherwise, even if House Stark were wiped out, it did not mean House Bolton alone was worthy of taking their place.
As for a royal decree from the Iron Throne?
To the Northern lords, it was no better than toilet paper.
Thus, Theon promptly replied to Walder Frey, agreeing to marry one of his daughters and promising to come to the Twins to claim her within three days.
After sending his letter, Theon ordered Amice to sweep through the petty knights and minor lords around Seagard. Those who surrendered were to be sent immediately to Seagard, while those who resisted were to be executed.
Among them, Schiller led five hundred riders north through the Riverlands, gathering refugees. The region was overflowing with them, and to Theon, they were nothing less than a valuable labor force.
Moreover, leaving refugees to die risked famine and pestilence. They had to be dealt with swiftly.
Three days later, Theon arrived at the Twins as promised.
He brought a few companions, only Kazim and Lucifor.
When Walder Frey saw Theon standing before him with so little escort, his eyes gleamed with surprise. Such audacity could not be underestimated, especially given Walder's infamous history of violating guest right.
"Lord Theon, so bold! Are you not afraid I might break guest right once more?" Walder mocked, biting into the bread dipped in salt.
When offered the same bread and salt, Theon waved dismissively, showing no interest in eating. He simply took a seat, while Kazim and Lucifor remained behind him.
"If you dare," Theon said coldly, "I'll sew that mongrel's head above your own hall door."
At his arrogant words, the assembled Frey nobles erupted in fury, their jeers and laughter echoing through the hall.
Then came a thunderous howl. The spectral image of a great silver-white wolf appeared around Theon, not fully materialized, but hovering like a shadow.
The moment the wolf howled, silence fell. Terror gripped the hall.
The people of Westeros were steeped in faith and superstition, and such a vision was beyond ordinary understanding. To them, the meaning was clear, Theon was no mere mortal ally.
In that instant, everyone realized the truth of what the deserter from Seagard had claimed:
Perhaps Theon truly was the incarnation of the gods, a man capable of destroying an entire city alone.
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