Rickon

The floors of the Great Hall were finally clean of all the blood that leaked from Littlefinger's neck. His body was tossed in the mud outside of Winterfell and burned. All the lords and ladies of the North had gathered back in the Great Hall, muttering about what would happen next. Per Jon's request, Rickon sat in the head seat of the High Table and Bran sat on his right. The next order of business was going to be in their hands since it concerned them. As the voices quieted down, Theon Greyjoy stood up from his seat and approached the center of the room. He had changed so much since Rickon saw him when he took Winterfell. He didn't even look like the Theon he knew before. He looked like parts of him were aging faster than they should've. Rickon stood up, as he was instructed beforehand by Jon and Sansa on how to address the room. The lords and ladies silenced as Rickon spoke. "My lords, we will now begin the trial of Theon Greyjoy." Theon eyes were kept to the ground, afraid to look at the ones he betrayed. All of those around him just looked at him like he was a pathetic creature, questioning 'why is he even still breathing?' "Theon Greyjoy, you stand accused of murder, treason, conspiracy, theft, desertion, rebellion, oathbreaking, and rebellion. How do you face these charges?"

"Guilty on all accounts." The hate for him grew even greater than it already was.

"You admit to your crimes? You have no defense as to why you committed them?"

"I do not. I am guilty of all that you said, there's nothing more to it than that."

Who was this man? The person Rickon saw before him was not Theon Greyjoy. Theon Greyjoy always had the last laugh in any conversation. Theon Greyjoy was an arrogant boy who always pushed people's sanities to their limits with his rude behavior. "The punishment for even just a few of the crimes I listed is death. And yet, I am curious as to one thing." Theon still didn't look up to them. He looked terrified. "I'm curious to know who are you?" This finally got Theon to look up at them and the people around to whisper to themselves. "The man I see before me is not Theon Greyjoy, you're someone else. Tell us all what happened to Theon Greyjoy after the Boltons took Winterfell."

"I am Theon Greyjoy."

"You look like him, but you don't act like him. I'll order you again, tell us what happened to Theon Greyjoy."

He hesitated at first, starting to shiver. "Theon was flayed by the Boltons at the Dreadfort. They tried to break him, but then Ramsay set him free. Theon didn't know who Ramsay was when he did. When Theon tried to escape the North, Ramsay found him and lured him into a trap. He was flayed again and broken into a thousand pieces. Theon died on a cross. He was tortured, cut, and finally castrated." This caused another murmur amongst the lords, some of them shocked. "That was when Theon became who I am, he became Reek."

There was silence after that, the hate wasn't gone, but something resembling whatever the smallest amount of sympathy was lingered. "Sansa told me about you when she returned to Winterfell. You told her the truth about me and Bran. You betrayed her when she asked you to help her," Theon slightly winced every time Rickon listed something else he'd done, "and you saved her life from Ramsay when you helped her escape from him."

Rickon let Theon hear what he said before Lord Royce spoke forward. "My lord, it is indeed true that Lady Sansa escaped because of him, but that cannot forgive him of the things he's done."

"It wasn't just her life he saved," Bran said, "if he and his Ironborn never captured Winterfell, the Boltons would have done to us what they did to him. We would've died, as would many others have. You didn't mean to, but you kept us alive."

"My lords, that still does not make up for what he's done, even after the suffering Ramsay put him through."

"It doesn't," Theon said, "that's why I came back. To do anything that might by close to making things right."

"Not even this can do that!" Lady Mormont told him.

"I know. Whatever justice you see fit, I'll accept it. The Iron Fleet will not attack and neither will Yara. My life is forfeit to you." Theon looked up to Rickon and Bran, shriveled and shaking.

"You'll give up your life that easily?" Rickon asked. "What about something to fight for? What about your son?" Theon went from afraid to stunned. Rickon stood up, looking at the man before him. "Whoever Reek was, he's gone, but you're not the Theon I know, you're a different Theon. One who I trust."

"My lord!" Lord Glover said, "you can't just forgive him for his crimes against your family."

"I'm not forgiving him. Justice must beserved. But before I do, I have one more question for the accused. Why did you do it?"

"Because… I hated you, all of you Starks. Growing up here, I was treated better than Jon because I wasn't a bastard, but I was still a hostage. I didn't belong here, with you. The more time I spent here, the more I wanted to be a Stark more than a Greyjoy. Because I wanted my father to proud of me. But no matter what I did, Balon Greyjoy never treated me like Ned Stark did."

Rickon let the words sink in. he was still too young to understand most of the things about the world, but he knew enough for right now. "Theon Greyjoy, you are found guilty of all charges, but considering what's coming for all of us from the north, you will not die today." There was discontent amongst the lords, but Rickon wasn't finished. "However, when the wars are won and peace is found, you will be forbidden to set foot in the North ever again unless by invitation of the King or the Warden of the North." Jon seemed to be a bit disapproving of this, but this was Rickon's choice. "The rest of your sentence is as follows, you will leave Winterfell tomorrow morning and return to the Iron Islands. After that, I suppose you'll follow whatever your Queen wants of you. And after that… be better than who you were."

Rickon sat down, ending the trial. Theon just kept staring at him, looking sad and overjoyed. Rickon motioned his hand at Theon's seat, signaling him to sit down. Theon looked calm for a moment as he bowed his head and returned to his spot. Jon looked over to Rickon and nodded at him, smiling, as he stepped forward to address the lords.

"I know that many of you feel that true justice has been avoided," Jon said, "but as far as I've seen, a Lord has given justice without robbing mercy, and such a thing is a rare quality in lords, one I think we all should aspire to have." There were small cheers and banging sounded around him.

"Your grace," Lord Glover said, "do you really think we can trust the Ironborn after what they've done to the North?"

"If I knew we couldn't, their fleet would be burned by now and every tree in the Iron Islands would suffer the same fate so that no ship could ever be built again." Lord Glover looked unconvinced, but nodded all the same. "My lords, my ladies, the time has come for a decision to made. A decision of whether or not you would still call me your King and follow me."

"Your grace," Lord Cerwyn said, "we already said that we never truly sided with Lord Baelish and his plan to usurp the throne from you."

"I'm not talking about that," Jon told them, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

"If you're asking us to bend the knee to the Targaryen Queen, we still don't trust her," Lord Mazin said. "Some of us had guessed that you could have their blood in you because of whoever your mother was since you can control dragons, but it can't be that much and you are a Northerner, she is a foreigner. I can assure you we have no intention of letting a Targaryen rule over us."

"Yet you already have when you declared me King in the North." Everyone except those who knew what he meant looked puzzled, talking to each other. "Lord Reed, step forward please." Meera's father stood up from the back row of lords on the left and walked to Jon. "As almost all of us know, you were with Ned Stark when you joined him in Dorne to rescue Lyanna Stark who everyone thought died of fever."

"I was, your grace." Howland told them.

"Would you please tell everyone what she really died of?"

"She died giving birth to you."

The chatter amongst the lords was louder than normal. "It was believed that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, however thanks to Samwell Tarly of the Night's Watch and the abilities of Bran and Rickon, information about what actually happened has come to light."

"You mean to tell us that you're a Targaryen bastard?" Lord Glover asked as Lord Reed sat back down.

"No, I mean to tell you I'm not a bastard at all. My father Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and wed my mother Lyanna in a secret ceremony. The name I was given at my birth was Aegon Targaryen."

This didn't cause chatter, only silence that was broken by a young Lady. "You mean to say that you're the true heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms?" Lady Mormont asked.

"By right, I am. But I've already talked with Queen Daenerys and told her I have no plan to take the throne from her." The silence continued, every moment of it stabbed at Jon. "Instead, I have decided that I'll be taking it with her."

"You're going to marry her and rule at her side?" Lord Forrester asked.

Daenerys decided to stand up and address the lords and ladies for the first time. "I understand you won't follow a southern ruler, only a northern one. This decision was made by the both of us, and it's what we intend to do when the Long Night is over."

Jon resumed his declaration, "When I was part of the Night's Watch, I met with Mance Rayder after the Battle at Castle Black to try and convince him to bend the knee to Stannis Baratheon. I asked him if his people's survival was more important than his pride when he reffuesed. Later, on Dragonstone, when I told Queen Daenerys that you wouldn't accept a southern ruler, she asked me that exact same question. It was then I understood the position Mance was in. He was made King beyond the Wall because the Free Folk believed in him to save them. You made me the King in the North because you believed I can save you. But if I betray that belief, then what's there to be loyal to? I understand if any of you will still refuse to follow me. That's why I leave the decision of loyalty to you. As of now, I'm not the King in the North unless you all wish it to remain so."

Rickon was nervous. Jon knew he had his sibling's support and Lord Reed's, but that was about the extent of it. There was more chatter filling the room and things weren't looking good for Jon. But hope seemed to appear as a young Lord Umber stood up and got everyone's attention. "Lord Snow, when you thought you were the one on trial today and Lord Rickon defended you, I realized he was right. We disguise pride as honor and it ends up being the death of us. My father betrayed you, Lord Rickon, and even killed his direwolf. He fought against you and broke faith with House Stark. I never wished anything he did upon you, but I wasn't glad when he died, he was my father after all. There were some lords and ladies who thought my house should be punished further for betraying you, but you didn't let them. You showed mercy to me and Lady Karstark for the sins of our fathers. If you can do that, then so can I to the daughter of the Mad King." The young lord drew his sword and knelt down against it. Lady Karstark stood up from her seat and did the same, following the example of Lord Umber. Lord Reed stepped forward again and did as they did. Then no one else seemed to do the same. Instead, Lord Glover began to bang his table in a rhythm. His banging was joined by Lord Manderly and Lord Forrester. The banging grew harder and louder as more lords and ladies joined in the noise. Finally, Ned Umber stood up and raised his sword as high as he could. "The King in the North!"

Everyone else stood up drawing their swords like they did the first time Jon was crowned. "The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!" Rickon not having a sword anymore could only raise his fist in the air, cheering for Jon.

The day grew late as the light of the snow began to darken slightly and the cold started to grow fiercer. Rickon was with Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Sam and his woman friend in the Great Hall eating their supper. Theon had taken his to his room, Arya was feeling sick, and Bran was doing what he normally did, watching everything.

Rickon took a bite of his cooked venison, chewing it quickly before speaking to Jon. "Are we supposed to call you Aegon now?"

Jon swallowed a gulp of ale before replying. "No, I'd prefer to remain Jon."

"What about your family name? You always wanted to be a Stark, but actually you're a Targaryen."

Jon didn't reply at first, he only smiled halfly at Rickon. "I've talked about it with Daenerys and we've decided I'll be Jon Targaryen."

"It has a nice ring to it." Rickon told him. "When will you two be married?"

Within the fortnight," Daenerys said. "After that, hopefully my Hand will arrive with Lord Varys and Ser Davos and the other Dothraki from Dragonstone. Maybe then we'll have some answers about what to expect from the Golden Company."

"Oh no!" Rickon said, remembering something he was looking forward to.

"What is it?" Sansa asked him.

"Your sigil!" He said to Jon. "I had Sansa stitch a sigil for your own house, but I guess you'll be wearing the red dragon from now on."

"You had a sigil made for me?" Jon asked, amazed. "Can I see it?"

"I'd like to see it as well," Sam said.

Rickon wiped his mouth and got up from the table, rushing down the hallways to his room. He returned shortly with a piece of cloth that had excellent needlework done in it. He placed it on the table for everyone to see and they marveled at it. The sigil was a grey field under a black sky and a white direwolf with ruby eyes faced forwards baring its teeth. On its left was a blue dragon head with one wing extended outwards behind it and on the opposite side was a white dragon head mirroring its sister extending its wing. Below the animal in the grey field, words stitched in white read 'Through Fire and Ice'.

Rickon was happy when he saw Jon amazed at what he saw. "Sansa made this?"

"I stitched it," Sansa confirmed, "but Rickon came up with the design."

Jon ran his fingers over the cloth, feeling each thread. "It's too beautiful to go to waste. I'll find something for this little brother."

Sam cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Now that I have the chance, I'd like to speak about something that might help us for the Long Night." He directed his words mostly to Jon and Daenerys. "Something else I discovered is the basic principles of how to forge Valyrian steel."

"Sam," Jon said, "That's fantastic."

"Yes, although there's something I'll need your help acquiring if we want to try it."

"What's that?" Jon asked, eager to know.

"Well, when forging the steel, it has to be down in a forge lit with dragon fire."

"Easy enough, if that's all there is to it then we should have every forge lit like that."

"Actually, there's more to it than that. You see, the dragonfire contains magic and when forging the steel in it, it becomes imbued with that magic. However, in order to contain the magic, the steel needs to be quench and hardened in a substance that won't destroy it. The only thing that can is what I'm afraid about getting."

"What is it?" Jon asked.

Sam looked nervous to tell him, feeling he may be rejected. "Like the Targaryens say, with fire and blood, dragon's blood."

"Dragon's blood?" Jon asked. "I never would've thought of that."

"Neither would any smith," Sam told him. "Using blood to quench steel has been tried before, but its not the best thing to use."

Jon turned his gaze to a window, looking outside. "Then I guess the hard part of this will getting the blood itself."

Before Rickon could prepare for bed, he was asked by Bran to meet him in the Godswood with Jon. The snow continued to fall as it had been the whole day, showing no sign of ending soon. Bran sat next to the weirwood tree and Jon next to him. The three boys stood next to each other, Rickon and Jon wondering what Bran wanted.

"Jon," Bran said, "you wanted to know how we've seen the Night King. It's hard to explain, but it's easier to show you."

"Jon can do it too?" Rickon asked.

"No, he does not possess the sight, but he is a warg like us." Bran held his hand out to both of them, waiting for them to grab hold of it. Rickon and Jon both placed their hands on Bran's and Bran placed his other hand on the weirwood. The moment his hand made contact with the bark, they all felt themselves through the eyes of many ravens that nestled in a tree outside of Winterfell.

They all took flight, heading northeast. The sensation of warging felt incredible to Rickon. It was similar to the greensight, but different in so many ways. He felt as if he was the animal itself. Their thoughts collided and mix, the intentions, the impulses, all of it. Not only could he feel the ravens' presence, but he could also feel Jon and Bran's. The deeper in thought he became, the more he sank into a state of trance. Time seemed to become something he didn't recognize and the flight of the ravens continued to fly throughout the North. After what felt like, something of a time he couldn't tell, the Wall came into view and one of the castles. The flock flew over the Torches and beyond the Wall. Rickon began to notice the sun was starting to rise. 'How long have we've been flying?'

They passed over a great forest and some mountains, until finally they flew over a cliff and beheld the Army of the Dead. Rickon could feel the fear coming from Jon. The army was bigger than when he saw it. The ravens flew over was must have been miles of dead soldiers, then they saw a ridge with eight horses, their riders overlooking the army. They instant they got closer to them, the Night King looked right at them and they instantly returned to themselves. Rickon and Jon fell backwards to the ground. Their bodies were covered in a light layer of snow and morning was upon them.

Rickon felt exhausted and he finally noticed a group of spectators surrounded them all. Most of them were guards and some of the residents. Rickon sat himself up, breathing deeply and desiring rest. Bran was the only one who didn't look affected by what happened. "It's bigger than it was at Hardhome." Jon said. "Much bigger."

"He's almost ready," Bran said, "no matter what we do, the Wall will fall."