The five people who wanted to kill Theon Greyjoy and the one who really did.
A/N: This is a bit weird. It started out as each of the Starks (and Snow) getting payback for what Theon had done to Winterfell and how he had sort of cost Robb the war. Then reality had to come in and write itself into my almost happy work. So yeah.
Robb Stark
Fresh snow covered the ground, blanketing the land in white. Several guards stood with him, a prisoner held between two. One held the greatsword of his family, Ice. With a nod, they brought forth the prisoner. He had to force himself not to step forward and shove a dagger in his heart, ending it right then and there.
He looked at the man kneeling before him. For a moment, he felt a deep sadness in his heart. This was the boy he had grown up with. This was his friend, his brother.
Then he remembered seeing Winterfell, remembered the pain that came with the letter telling him of his brothers' (his true brothers') deaths. Any pity or remorse or sadness there had been a moment before was gone now. Only hatred and a lust for justice and vengence remained. Only cold, hard steel.
"Theon Greyjoy, Prince of the Iron Islands," he began, head bowed.
"For the crime of murdering the Princes Bran and Rickon Stark, and treason against your king, I, Robb of the House Stark, King of the North and Lord of Winterfell, do sentence you to die."
He lifted Ice above his head, ready to bring it down. He looked, just once, into those pale eyes. They held many emotions. Anger, betrayal, fear, sorrow. Mostly they held apologies. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, they seemed to say.
In one swift motion, he brought Ice down upon the man's neck.
Theon Greyjoy's head rolled in the rapidly reddening snow. Justice had been served.
Robb Stark would die at the Twins before he could march North to fight back the Ironborn and kill Theon Greyjoy.
Sansa Stark
He was brought before her in the great hall of Winterfell. She sat upon the weirwood throne that had once belonged to her father, that should have belonged to her brothers. Instead, it belonged to her.
It was two of her three most trusted knights that brought him forth. Ser Jaime and the Hound. Brienne of Tarth stood at her side, Oathkeeper drawn and ready to dispatch justice.
When he was placed in front of her throne, she was once again reminded that this was not the boy she knew. The boy she knew had always had a smile on his face, had been arrogant and cocky, always making some joke or other. Most of all, he had been handsome, had attracted the eye of almost every woman. This man, if he could even be called that, was a pitiful, empty sack of bones and flesh. He was so disfigured, it had taken questioning to be able to determine if it was really him.
"Theon Greyjoy," she said, her voice echoing in the hall. He gazed up at her meekly.
"Your crimes against my family must be brought to justice. You betrayed the trust of my brother, Robb Stark, the King in the North. You murdered my brothers, Prince Brandon Stark and Prince Rickon Stark. You burned Winterfell, the seat of my House."
She stood up, walking over to him. Brienne slowly, reluctantly handed her Oathkeeper. She had not been in favor of her Queen taking the traitor's head.
"I, Sansa of the House Stark, Queen of the North and Lady of Winterfell, do sentence you to die."
And in one practiced stroke, she took the head of Theon Greyjoy.
Sansa Stark was in the Eyrie, under the guise of Alayne Stone, bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish.
Arya Stark
She had not been expecting to find him when she came to Winterfell. Many years had been spent in Braavos, in the House of Black and White, training to kill those who had wronged her family. She had not known that he was there.
First, she killed the Lannisters. They had taken the head of her father. Cersei, Jaime, and all the others. Even Myrcella and Tommen. She could not risk them becoming like their parents.
Next, she killed the Freys. They had murdered her brother and mother at a wedding. Lord Frey had begged for his miserable life. She forced him to watch as she killed each and every one of his family.
Last, she came to kill the Boltons. Roose Bolton had put a sword through Robb's heart, and his bastard, Ramsay, had helped kill Bran and Rickon, and burn Winterfell.
As she searched the halls for Ramsay Snow, who had fled the moment the first man died, she found the dungeon. Huddled in one corner was a man she had never imagined meeting again.
He was different, so, so different. He had not deserved this torture. Death was the only punishment that should have been given. In a way, she was showing him what he hadn't shown her brothers: mercy.
"You killed my brothers, Bran and Rickon."
He pulled his knees up to his chin, shivering in the cold.
"You betrayed my brother, King Robb."
A single tear fell from his eye.
"You deserve to die."
The lack of defiance, of will to live, bothered her a little. The boy he had been would have fought tooth and nail to escape. But this was not the boy she once knew.
"Valar Morghulis, Theon Greyjoy," she murmured, slitting his throat. Blood spilled on the floor and her hands. He made one choking sound. Thank you.
Ramsay Bolton had to die. Then, and only then, would justice have truly been served.
Arya Stark was the name given to Jeyne Poole in an attempt to trick the Northern Houses into swearing allegiance to House Bolton. The real Arya Stark believed herself to be No One, an apprentice Faceless Man in Braavos.
Bran Stark
It was through Summer that he found him. There was a girl with him too, helping him along. The man's eyes widened with recognition and fear. He tried feebly to hobble away, but the large direwolf cut him off before he'd barely taken four steps.
He began babbling. I'm sorry he said, over and over again. But his words fell on deaf ears. In that moment, there was so much more wolf than boy in the direwolf.
He approached slowly, hackles raised and lips pulled back in a snarl. His growls echoed in the clearing. Tears ran down the man's cheeks. The girl tried stepping between them, tried to shield him with her body. She begged and pleaded. He snapped at her and she cried out in fear, but did not move.
The man seemed to finally come to terms with the inevitable. The girl's cry stopped his shaking, shushed his apologies. Slowly, he pushed her aside. She protested, but he shushed her with a light kiss to her lips and some words.
He stood before the direwolf, with as much confidence and courage he could muster.
Somewhere in the wolf's head, a little boy whispered I, Brandon of the House Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, do sentence you to die.
With a loud snarl, Summer lunged forward. His jaw clenched around the man's throat and he tore. The taste of blood and flesh filled his mouth. He ripped into the man's body, sending bits of skin and gore flying in all directions.
The girl was screaming but he did not care. Theon Greyjoy had been brought to justice.
Bran Stark was beyond the Wall, with Jojen and Meera Reed, learning to take Bloodraven's place.
Rickon Stark
Osha had found the man. She dragged him away from the girl who kicked and screamed as one of the men following him held her back. Osha said that this man had tried to kill him and Bran, had betrayed his brother Robb, had burned his home.
He remembered a different face. He remembered dark hair, a smile, confindent eyes. This man had white hair, eyes filled with fear, and a look of pain on his face. But it was, without a doubt, the man who Osha claimed him to be.
He could not remember Bran. He could not remember Robb. He could not remember Sansa, or Arya, or Mother, or Father, or even Jon. He could only remember this man.
Shaggydog sat by his side, growling softly at the man. He could not begin to express the surprise he felt when he learned that, even after all these years, this man still lived. Even after the War of Five Kings, and the Long Night, and the fight against the Boltons to once again make the Starks the Kings in the North, this man had survived.
It made him angry to know that the traitor would live where his family would not.
"Theon Greyjoy," he said. The man watched him, afraid.
"You must pay for your crimes against the North, for the attempted murder of myself and my brother Bran, for the betrayal of my brother Robb. I, Rickon of the House Stark, King of the North and Lord of Winterfell, do sentence you to die."
With a flick of his wrist, Shaggydog charged at the man, snarling louder than he'd ever heard before. Shaggy ripped into the Theon's body as both he and the girl screamed.
You have now been punished for your crimes, he thought to himself.
Rickon Stark was lost in Skagos, though Davos Seaworth searched for him to bring him back and reclaim his birthright.
Jon Snow
When they told him that a man had been found wandering in the snow, he had thought nothing of it. One more deserter from Stannis's army, he thought.
The man was brought before him, nontheless. The man was missing fingers and toes, though not from frostbite. His hair was white and brittle, and what little flesh that remained on his face was pale. But it was the eyes that made him realize who this really was.
The change in him was startling. He should have had a cocky smile plastered on his face, and some insult on his tongue. This man was merely a ghost, a shell, of his former self.
With Longclaw in hand, he stood in front of the man.
"In the name of Stannis of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," he didn't add, and in the name of Robb of the House Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, "by the word of Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I do sentence you to die."
If any of his men had any qualms when he raised Longclaw and took the head of Theon Greyjoy, they kept it to themselves. The Night's Watch may take no part in the troubles of the realm, but Greyjoy had committed crimes against the Lord Commander.
"And now you have paid for your crimes," he said to himself.
Jon Snow would be betrayed by his men before he could march to Winterfell to rescue Jeyne Westerling - who he believed to be his sister Arya - and to execute Theon Greyjoy.
Stannis Baratheon
He knew of the crimes Theon Greyjoy had committed. He knew of the pain he had brought onto House Stark. Had there been any Starks left, he would have let them bring forth justice. But Eddard Stark had been executed in King's Landing. Robb Stark and his mother, Catelyn Tully, had been murdered at the Twins. Sansa Stark was missing and believed to be dead. The girl that claimed to be Arya Stark was nothing more than an imposter, so Arya Stark was presumed to be dead. Bran and Rickon Stark had been murdered by Greyjoy. He might have even let Jon Snow do it, as he was of Stark blood. But the Lord Commander was at the Wall, and his men demanded a sacrifice to the Lord of Light.
"Please," Asha Greyjoy, his prisoner, had begged. "Take his head yourself. Do not give him to the flames. Please."
Asha was in no place to ask for favors, but somehow Stannis found himself doing it anyway. When his men grew angry that he was not going to sacrifice Theon Greyjoy to R'hollor, he had reminded them that he was the Lord's Chosen and it was his decision to make.
They stood before a weirwood tree. Asha Greyjoy was in chains and held by Alayne Mormont. When she saw him approach, she had given him a grateful smile.
The man they placed in front of him to be executed was nothing like he had heard of Theon Greyjoy. But, he had been captured by the Boltons and become the plaything for Ramsay Snow, if Jeyne Poole was to be believed.
"In the name of House Stark, I, Stannis of the House Baratheon, the First of that Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and the Lord's Chosen, do sentence you to die."
He drew Lightbringer. It glowed like a beacon, like a candle in the dark. He brought it down, severing the head of Theon Greyjoy.
"The North truly remembers," he said to Theon Greyjoy, as the snow began to fall and bury his body under a blanket of white. It would be burned, like every other corpse. Perhaps Lord Commander Snow would finally be more willing to do as he said and listen now that Greyjoy was dead.