Night fell, and by ten o'clock, the Winter Town was anything but quiet.
Inside a brightly lit tavern, the Ironborn captains gathered together to discuss their next phase of operations.
Euron spread a crude map across a wine-stained table, studying Winterfell's defenses with predatory focus.
"After the attrition of the day, I estimate there are no more than three hundred men left inside the castle."
Aeron looked at the map as well, his expression buoyed by excitement. "Once the siege engines are assembled tomorrow, we can smash the gates and occupy Winterfell completely!"
Euron let out a low, dark chuckle.
"Tomorrow?" He glanced sideways at Aeron. "My dear brother, I do not have the patience to wait another night."
He tapped a finger on the map, a cold light flashing in his eyes.
"Tonight, I will break into Winterfell!"
He scanned the room, issuing orders with icy authority.
"Squint, I'm giving you thirty men. Go to the North Gate shortly and create a disturbance."
Squint nodded. "Understood, Lord Euron."
Euron then turned to Dagmer Cleftjaw.
"Once Squint begins his harassment and draws the defenders away, you will lead your crew to set up ladders at the main gate. Make it look like a full-scale secondary assault."
Dagmer began to protest. "Why should we be the ones to—"
Euron's right eye twitched slightly. Dagmer felt a sudden chill run through his bones and immediately corrected himself.
"Yes, Lord Euron. I guarantee the mission will be accomplished."
Euron withdrew his gaze and settled it on Aeron.
"You will lead the other captains and lie in ambush before the Hunter's Gate, while I lead a team to scale the walls using grappling hooks.
Once I have opened the gates and signaled, you will launch the assault immediately. Is that clear?"
Aeron nodded stiffly.
"Everyone go and prepare. The plan begins in one hour."
Euron's voice shifted into a rhythmic murmur, feeding the greed in their hearts.
"This is Winterfell, the seat of the Starks for countless years.
The wealth accumulated here, even a fraction of it, is enough to ensure you never want for anything again.
Once the city falls, I grant you permission to pillage at will."
"Aside from the Stark girls, you may seize any treasure and claim any woman. Conquer them with blood and violence.
Practice the Old Way of the Iron Islands."
The captains' breathing grew heavier. Their eyes filled with hunger.
Euron whispered like a demon in their ears.
"We Do Not Sow."
The tavern erupted. Weapons were raised high.
"We Do Not Sow!"
Satisfied, Euron dismissed them to make preparations.
While the Ironborn mobilized, tension boiled inside the Great Hall of Winterfell.
After the day's fighting, the already meager garrison had dwindled to fewer than two hundred and fifty men.
Clay Cerwyn could not bear the shadow of impending death. He approached Sansa and Bran, proposing they flee under cover of darkness.
He was sharply rebuked by Ser Rodrik.
"Flee? Where would you have a Stark flee to?" Ser Rodrik snapped.
"The Crow's Eye has an army outside. With the few men we have, once we leave the walls, we will be swallowed. There will be no escape."
"We can flee into the Wolfswood," Clay insisted. "We know those woods. The Ironborn do not."
He turned desperately to Sansa.
"Lady Sansa, if we fall into their hands, we will suffer horrors. We must leave."
Sansa stood pale as frost, but before she could answer, Bran spoke calmly from his chair.
"Lord Clay, we are Starks. This is our home. We will not flee. Besides, we are going to win."
Clay shot the crippled boy an irritated look.
"Win? With what?"
"Glover was supposed to guard against the Ironborn, yet he hasn't appeared.
Either he has abandoned us, or Deepwood Motte is under attack as well. By the time others arrive, we will already be captives."
His words dampened morale further.
Ser Rodrik's anger flared, but before he could respond, chaos erupted outside. A soldier burst into the hall.
"Lord Rodrik, disaster! Ironborn at the main gate!"
Faces blanched.
Ser Rodrik rushed out with his men.
Maester Luwin sensed danger. "Sansa, Bran, come. I am taking you to safety."
He gestured for Hodor to lift Bran, and the group hurried away.
At the main gate, Ser Rodrik climbed the wall to find fewer than two hundred Ironborn attacking.
"What is this? I thought you said there were many?"
The messenger looked confused.
"There were, just moments ago..."
Then the clash of steel erupted from the direction of the Hunter's Gate.
Ser Rodrik's blood ran cold.
"It's a feint! To the Hunter's Gate!"
But manpower was thin. Most defenders had been drawn to the main gate.
Ten minutes earlier, Euron's crew from the Silence had swum the moat in darkness, scaling the inner wall with grappling hooks.
The guards were cut down swiftly. The portcullis was lowered.
The Hunter's Gate had fallen.
Ironborn surged in with triumphant cries. Yet the narrow passage prevented a full flood, and nearly a hundred defenders held them at the choke point.
Fierce fighting erupted beneath the gatehouse.
When Ser Rodrik arrived with reinforcements, the Ironborn had secured the gate and were pushing toward the kennels.
"Open the cages! Release the hounds!"
The kennel doors were thrown open. Starved hounds lunged at the attackers with savage fury.
Ironborn screamed as dogs dragged them down.
This bought precious moments.
Ser Rodrik formed a line before the kennels, blocking further advance.
Then Euron stepped forward in soot-black scale armor. He surveyed the defenders and sneered.
"Kneel and surrender. I might spare you."
Rodrik Cassel spat blood onto the stones. "In your dreams. I swore my life to the Starks. I will not betray my lords."
He locked eyes with Euron.
"Face me in single combat if you dare."
Euron merely smirked. With a dismissive gesture, he sent his men forward.
"Kill them."
Steel clashed again.
Rodrik fought fiercely, cutting down the first attacker. But for every Ironborn slain, more pressed in.
Soon his small band was overwhelmed.
A blade struck. His sword arm was severed.
"My Lord Robb... I did my best."
Bleeding heavily, Ser Rodrik fell to his knees. Euron did not even look at him. He advanced toward the inner courtyard.
Then the ground began to tremble.
Euron froze.
Warhorses. Hundreds of them.
From beyond the walls came a thunderous roar.
"Glover!"
"Gods bless Glover!"
"Gods bless Glover!"
The cry rolled over Winterfell like a storm...Then came the thunder of hooves.
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