Chapter 6: The Wolf and the Kraken
POV: Theon
Theon Greyjoy watched Kole Thorne prepare for the hunt with barely concealed resentment burning in his chest like swallowed coals. The ward moved with that infuriating efficiency he'd developed—checking his bow, selecting arrows, adjusting his gear with the kind of competence that made everything look effortless.
It should have been laughable. A foundling with convenient amnesia preparing to hunt the Wolfswood alongside the heir to Winterfell. But Robb stood beside Kole, discussing tracking strategies and wind patterns like the ward's opinions actually mattered.
"The deer will be moving toward the stream this time of year," Kole was saying, his voice carrying the certainty of someone who'd never been wrong about such things. "We should position ourselves along the game trails running north-south."
"Good thinking," Robb agreed, his admiration obvious to anyone with eyes. "Theon, what do you think?"
What did Theon think? He thought that a prince of the Iron Islands shouldn't have to compete for attention with some half-wit who'd crawled out of the snow. He thought that two years of loyal service should count for more than mysterious gifts and convenient timing.
"Sounds reasonable," Theon said instead, forcing his voice to remain level.
The hunting party formed up in Winterfell's courtyard as dawn painted the ancient stones gold and amber. Twenty men in total—enough to bring down any deer they encountered, not so many as to frighten away the game. Robb rode at their head with natural authority, while Kole positioned himself slightly behind and to the left like some kind of bodyguard.
Theon took his place in the formation and tried not to think about how naturally the others deferred to the ward's suggestions. When had that happened? When had a mysterious nobody become more trusted than a prince whose family had ruled islands for a thousand years?
The Wolfswood embraced them like an old friend, all towering pines and dappled sunlight that turned the air green-gold with filtered radiance. Game trails wound between massive trunks that had stood since before the Conquest, and the smell of rich earth and growing things filled Theon's nostrils with memories of simpler times.
But even here, in the ancient heart of the North, Kole somehow managed to make himself indispensable. He pointed out sign that others missed—disturbed earth where deer had passed, bark stripped by antlers, the subtle patterns that spoke of animal movement through the forest. Every observation proved accurate. Every suggestion led them closer to their quarry.
"There," Kole said quietly, pointing toward a clearing where a magnificent stag stood silhouetted against morning light. "Twelve points at least."
The animal was perfect—massive, proud, the kind of trophy that would earn the hunter respect and admiration. Theon nocked an arrow with hands that barely trembled, drawing his bow with the smooth motion that years of practice had burned into muscle memory.
This was his moment. His chance to prove that Ironborn skill still mattered in a world increasingly dominated by mainland magic and mysterious gifts.
The arrow flew true, taking the stag through the heart with surgical precision. The great beast stumbled, fell, and lay still. Around him, the hunting party erupted in appreciative murmurs.
"Excellent shot," Harwin Stone called out. "Clean kill."
Theon lowered his bow with satisfaction warming his chest like good wine. Finally, something he could do that the ward couldn't match. Finally, a skill that mattered more than mysterious intuition and convenient timing.
But when he looked toward Robb for the praise he'd earned, he found the young lord already turning to Kole for advice.
"What do you think about tracking the second group we spotted earlier?" Robb asked. "Worth pursuing?"
Kole studied the forest with those grey eyes that seemed to see too much. "The wind's shifting. They'll have caught our scent by now and moved deeper into the wood. Better to field-dress this one and head back."
"Makes sense."
The casual dismissal hit Theon like a physical blow. He'd made the kill—the best shot of the day—and Robb was asking someone else about next steps. Asking the ward. Always the fucking ward.
"When did I become invisible in my own pack?"
The thought burned through his mind with acidic clarity. He was a prince of the Iron Islands, heir to Pyke, blood of the ancient line that had ruled when these mainlanders were still painting themselves blue and worshipping trees. But here, in this place that should have been his second home, he'd become an afterthought.
The party began field-dressing the stag, working with the efficient teamwork that came from years of hunting together. Theon participated mechanically, his hands performing familiar tasks while his mind churned with resentment that tasted like copper and salt.
He'd grown up here. Learned to fight in these yards, hunted in these woods, shared meals at the high table with people he'd thought considered him family. But Kole Thorne had arrived two years ago and somehow become more Stark than the Starks themselves.
During the ride back to Winterfell, Theon found himself studying the ward with new intensity. Kole rode like he'd been born in the saddle, his enhanced reflexes allowing him to guide his horse through difficult terrain with casual ease. Every movement spoke of competence, confidence, the kind of natural ability that couldn't be taught or earned.
It was infuriating.
They were approaching the castle's outer walls when opportunity presented itself. Kole had fallen back slightly from the main group, checking the pack animals that carried their kill. For a moment, he was isolated—visible to Theon but separated from immediate witnesses.
Theon nocked another arrow, drawing his bow with movements that looked casual to outside observation. Just checking the string tension. Just making sure his equipment remained in good condition.
The arrow slipped from his fingers almost by accident.
It flew straight toward Kole's back, aimed to wound rather than kill—a hunting accident, nothing more. But something impossible happened in the fraction of a second between release and impact.
The arrow's trajectory shifted.
Not dramatically. Not obviously. Just enough to send it wide of its target, as though an invisible hand had reached out and nudged it aside. Kole's hand moved in a subtle gesture that most observers would dismiss as coincidence, but Theon caught the deliberate nature of the motion.
The ward had deflected an arrow in flight. Without touching it. Without any visible means of affecting its path.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Careful with that bow," Kole said quietly, not bothering to turn around. "Accidents can be dangerous in the wrong circumstances."
The warning was delivered without threat, but it carried implications that made Theon's blood run cold. Somehow, impossibly, the ward had known about the "accidental" release. Had sensed it coming and dealt with it like swatting an annoying fly.
"What are you?" Theon demanded, his voice carrying across the hunting party.
Conversation stopped. Horses shifted restlessly as riders turned to watch the confrontation unfold. In the sudden silence, Theon could hear his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs.
"Some kind of witch?" Theon continued, no longer caring who heard. "Is that what they found beyond the Wall? A practitioner of dark arts?"
Kole finally turned to face him, his grey eyes calm as winter stone. "I'm someone who doesn't miss what you just tried to do."
The accusation hung in the air like smoke from a funeral pyre. Around them, the hunting party stirred with uncomfortable awareness that something significant had just occurred.
"That's enough," Robb commanded, his voice carrying the authority of lordship despite his youth. "Both of you. We'll discuss this back at Winterfell."
But Theon could see the questions forming behind Robb's eyes. Questions about arrows that changed course without explanation, about wards who seemed to know things they shouldn't, about the nature of loyalty and trust in a world where magic was supposed to be dead.
The ride back to Winterfell passed in tense silence, broken only by the sound of hoofbeats on packed earth and the whisper of wind through ancient trees. But Theon's mind raced with possibilities and implications that made him feel both thrilled and terrified.
He'd discovered something important about Kole Thorne. Something that could change the balance of power in Winterfell, if properly exploited.
The question was what to do with that knowledge.
POV: Kole
The confrontation in Robb's solar felt like standing trial before a judge who already suspected the verdict. Winterfell's heir sat behind his father's desk with the weight of premature responsibility aging his features, while Theon lounged in a chair with the casual arrogance of someone who believed he held winning cards.
"Tell me what happened in the Wolfswood," Robb said without preamble.
Kole chose his words carefully. "Theon's arrow went wide. I pointed out that accidents can be dangerous."
"Accidents." Theon's laugh held no humor. "That arrow didn't go wide by chance, and we both know it."
Robb's grey eyes moved between them like a magistrate weighing testimony. "Explain."
"Our mysterious ward deflected it somehow. Made it change course in midair." Theon leaned forward in his chair, his green eyes bright with malicious satisfaction. "Just like metal objects seem to move around him when children are falling from towers."
The accusation settled over the room like winter's first snow—cold, inevitable, and impossible to ignore. Kole felt his enhanced reflexes preparing for violence while his mind raced through possible responses. Denial would invite investigation. Confession would mean exile or worse.
"That's a serious claim," Robb said slowly.
"It's a ridiculous claim," Kole replied, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Arrows don't change course because someone wishes they would."
"Don't they?" Theon stood and began pacing the solar's length, his movements carrying predatory grace. "I've been watching you, Kole. Really watching. The way metal objects always seem to be exactly where you need them. The way your wounds heal faster than they should. The way you always seem to know things before they happen."
Each observation hit like a blade between ribs. Theon had been paying attention, cataloguing evidence, building a case with methodical precision. The lazy prince act had concealed a sharp mind bent on destruction.
"Theon," Robb warned.
"No, let me finish." Theon stopped pacing and fixed Kole with a stare that mixed triumph and disgust. "We all know the stories about what lives beyond the Wall. Wights and Others, giants and worse things. What if they didn't find just any survivor up there? What if they brought back something pretending to be human?"
The accusation hung in the air like poison gas. Kole felt the cosmic curse stirring, ready to scramble any attempt at truthful explanation. But the truth was more dangerous than any lie.
"I need to end this without revealing anything real. But how do I prove a negative? How do I prove I'm not a monster when I'm not sure that's true anymore?"
"I need to know what you are, Kole," Robb said quietly. "Not rumors, not mysterious gifts—the truth."
The truth. If only it were that simple.
"I'm someone with unusual abilities I don't fully understand," Kole said finally. "Someone who wants to serve your house. That's all I can tell you."
"That's not enough," Theon interjected. "Not when those abilities involve dark magic and unnatural healing."
"There's no magic here," Kole replied, though even he wasn't sure that was accurate anymore. "Just old blood and stranger gifts than most people possess."
Robb studied his face with uncomfortable intensity. The young lord possessed his father's ability to read truth in men's expressions, and Kole felt exposed under that grey-eyed scrutiny.
"Show me," Robb commanded.
"What?"
"Whatever you did to that arrow. Show me how it works."
The request was reasonable, logical, impossible to refuse without confirming suspicion. But demonstrating his metal manipulation would shatter the last pretenses of normalcy. Kole's enhanced senses detected elevated heart rates, the sharp scent of nervous sweat, the subtle tension that preceded violence.
"I can't," he said honestly.
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
Robb leaned back in his father's chair, his young face grave with the weight of decisions that would affect everyone in his care. "That's not acceptable. If you serve this house, you serve it completely. No secrets. No hidden loyalties. No mysteries that could endanger my family."
"He's right. God help me, he's absolutely right. But I can't give him what he wants without destroying everything I've built."
"I'm someone with unusual abilities I don't fully understand, who wants to serve your house," Kole repeated. "That's all I can tell you."
"And that's all you'll tell me?"
"Yes."
Robb nodded slowly, disappointment clear in his expression. "Then understand this—the day your secrets endanger my family is the day we're no longer brothers."
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Two years of carefully built relationships, of shared meals and training sessions and late-night conversations about honor and duty, reduced to conditional acceptance based on mysteries he couldn't explain.
"I understand," Kole said.
"Good." Robb stood, signaling the meeting's end. "Both of you are dismissed. And Theon—no more hunting accidents. If you have grievances with anyone in this castle, you bring them to me directly."
They left the solar in tense silence, but Theon caught Kole's arm before they reached the stairs.
"This isn't over," the Ironborn prince said quietly. "I know what you are now. It's just a matter of proving it."
"And what exactly do you think I am?"
Theon's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Something that doesn't belong here. Something that's been lying to people who trusted it."
The accusation was closer to truth than Kole cared to admit. He was something that didn't belong—a man from another world, enhanced beyond human parameters, carrying knowledge that could reshape the future if properly applied.
But he was also someone who'd saved Bran's life, who'd protected Winterfell's people, who'd tried to honor the trust Ned Stark had placed in him despite the impossibility of full honesty.
"Believe what you want," Kole said finally. "But remember—I'm not the only one in this castle with secrets worth protecting."
He left Theon standing in the corridor and made his way to his chambers, where letters from Jon waited with news from the Wall that would soon demand all his attention. The confrontation with Theon was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, he had other mysteries to unravel.
But as he read Jon's descriptions of strange sounds beyond the Wall, of rangers who disappeared without explanation, of a cold that seemed to carry malevolent intelligence, Kole realized that his personal problems were about to become insignificant compared to the threats approaching from the north.
The game of thrones was accelerating beyond anyone's ability to control. And somewhere in Winterfell's depths, enemies were already planning their next moves in a contest where the stakes were higher than any throne.
The iron figurines hidden in his chambers suddenly felt like anchors dragging him toward depths he couldn't escape. Someone knew his secret. Multiple someones, if he counted growing suspicions and accumulating evidence.
But knowing and proving were different things entirely.
And in a world where survival depended on the careful management of dangerous truths, the difference between those two things might be all that stood between him and destruction.
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