Dean did not answer immediately. His eyes shifted instead to Catelyn's hand, wrapped tightly in linen bandages.
In the show, she had gained that injury while trying to stop the assassin's knife when he attempted to take Bran's life.
Moreover, he had heard the guards stationed outside his room whispering among themselves about the accident Bran had been in the previous day.
So this was clearly a full day after the assassin had come for Bran in the night and had been stopped by Catelyn and the direwolf.
If things were following the plot of the show, then by now Catelyn would have already found the strand of golden hair at the place where Bran had been pushed.
That discovery would have led her to suspect the Lannisters, and she would have shared those suspicions only with those present in the room, the people she trusted the most in all of Winterfell.
'Everything is happening as per the plot of the show,' Dean concluded.
He then lifted his gaze back to her and spoke calmly, "If Lord Stark had listened to my words, none of this would have happened."
The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
Ser Rodrik Cassel stepped forward at once, his expression hard with disapproval. "Mind your tongue," he said sternly. "He is your lord, and you are a deserter standing on borrowed time. Show the respect you owe him."
Dean turned his head slightly and looked at the old knight. His expression did not change.
"The truth often cuts deeper than steel," he said evenly. "Much like the knife that cut my lady's hand."
Catelyn's eyes widened slightly at that.
"How do you know it was a knife?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.
Dean let out a small breath before answering. "My lady, the Old Gods showed me what happened. They showed me your son Bran falling, and how he has not awakened since. They showed me the attempt on his life, and how you and the wolf stood in the way."
Before Catelyn could respond, Robb stepped forward, his face tight with anger.
"Do not listen to him, mother," he said. "He could have heard all of this from the guards. He is twisting their words to deceive us. Father should have had his head the moment he was caught."
"You talk too much for a dead man," Theon spat unsheathing his sword. "Keep pushing your luck, and I'll finish what should have been done a month ago."
Dean's expression hardened slightly.
For more than a month, he had kept his patience. He stayed quiet and played his role carefully while waiting for things to turn in his favor. He allowed himself to be watched, questioned, and treated like a dangerous animal kept behind a door. He understood how this world worked, where strength and status mattered more than anything.
But understanding did not mean accepting everything.
There was always a limit to how much a man could endure.
Dean had swallowed their suspicion, their insults, and their threats for weeks. He did it because he didn't want to be at odds with the Starks. That didn't mean he couldn't get away from this place and become stronger and come back for revenge.
It would be much harder to pull off, but it was still an option he could have taken.
At least then, he would not have had to stand here and prove himself again and again.
He glanced at the people in the room.
Even now, when things had shifted and they needed him whether they admitted it or not, they still treated him like nothing more than a liar waiting to be put down.
Catelyn's voice cut through the tension. There was no softness in her tone.
"Enough," she said firmly. "Both of you, step back."
Robb hesitated, and Theon held his sword for a moment longer. But in the end, both stepped back, though their eyes remained on Dean.
Dean glanced at them, then looked at Robb.
"You think I heard this from the guards," he said calmly. "Then tell me… would they know your brother's fall was not an accident?"
Dean continued without a pause,"Would they know Lady Stark found a strand of golden hair where Bran fell?"
Catelyn's expression shifted slightly.
"And would they know the Lannisters were behind it?"
Silence filled the room.
One by one, the expressions around him began to change. Shock appeared first on Robb's and Theon's face. Even Ser Rodrik looked taken aback, his stern expression cracking for the first time.
Luwin and Catleyn were no different.
Catelyn swore to herself that when she had found that strand of hair, no one else had been around. There had been no one present even when she spoke to the others in the godswood about the Lannisters being behind it.
Then how could this man, who had not left his chambers for an entire month, possibly know?
Was it possible that he was truly a messenger of the gods?
She was not that strong a believer, but everything that had happened and everything he had said now pointed toward the same conclusion.
Maester Luwin seemed to gather his thoughts before stepping forward slightly. His calm gaze rested on Dean, but there was clear doubt behind it.
"If you can speak to the Old Gods and learn all this while confined to a room," he said carefully, "then why did you ask Lord Stark for such a… sacrificial ritual before? Why would anything more be required?"
Dean was caught off guard for a brief moment.
The question struck at the weakest part of his story, and for a second, he had no answer. But he quickly steadied himself, his expression returning to calm.
"The things I have spoken of just now," he said, "are of the past. I came to know of them only after they had already happened."
He paused, choosing his words with care.
"But what we seek now are answers about the future. That is not something the Old Gods reveal so easily. It requires… more."
The room remained silent as he continued.
"The first time they granted me a glimpse of what is yet to come, it did not come without a price. Men had already died beyond the Wall. Wildlings, beasts… even my own brothers of the Night's Watch."
His voice grew quieter as he continued.
"They were not sacrificed for that purpose. Their deaths were not meant for the Old Gods. But the Gods… they used what had already been taken. They used those deaths as a bridge, a way to reach me… and to guide me out of that place."
He did not mention the White Walkers. Not now. They were already struggling to accept what he had said so far.
Maester Luwin did not reply.
Instead, he turned his head slightly toward Catelyn and Ser Rodrik. The three exchanged a brief look, something unspoken passing between them. After a moment, they gave small, understanding nods.
Then Catelyn looked back at Dean.
Her expression had changed again. The doubt had not vanished, but it felt like she had come to decision for the good of her husband, daughter and the entire Winterfell.
"Very well," she said with a resolved voice.
"Apart from the creatures you mentioned… what else would you require for this ritual?"
☩ ───── End of Chapter ───── ☩
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