A/N: Wassup, guys! You're getting the chapter early today because my school's wifi has started being weird and not letting me on all of the sudden. The glitch might have fixed itself by now but I didn't want to risk it and have you all not get your chapter til late. So it's here early!

Lot's of interactions in this one and it's reasonably long. So, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 53: Aftermath

The bodies lay thick across the battlefield, turning the snow beneath them crimson. In the aftermath, it was hard to tell which corpses belonged to northern loyalists and northern traitors. They were all men who had fought beside Robb at one time or another. Then some had turned on him. Others had fought with him. And now they all rotted on the battlefield. The traitors who had not died had surrendered or fled. Most of them would be dead soon as well.

There were Lannister bodies scattered amongst the northerners-westerlanders who had given their blood for peace in the north. It would have been easy enough for Tywin to take Arya and return south at Roose's offering. He could have left the north to deal with its own rebellion, just as he had left Robb to deal with the Greyjoys. Whether for their lord's pride or politics or some other reason, the men of the west had stayed and fought and died.

How time could change things. Not long ago, Robb would have rejoiced to see Lannister's bleed. Now they bled as his allies.

Tywin Lannister was bleeding too, but not to the death. Ramsay Bolton had managed a deep cut beneath his arm with a knife, and the man kept a red cloth pressed over the wound to stem the bleeding as he approached Robb on horseback.

"You should see to that," Robb commented.

"I will," Tywin said. "I've had worse wounds. There's no need to worry."

"I'm not worrying. Just stating a fact," Robb replied. "Any word from your son?"

"Yes. Winterfell is secure and the Bolton traitors captured or killed."

Robb nodded once, trying not to let relief show on his face. But there was doubt in his heart as well. No one had mentioned anything yet about his children and Robb was too afraid to ask and find out they had been dead all along. "Winterfell is open to you and your generals as well," Robb said. "Until you are ready to leave. I expect your soldiers need rest before they make the journey home. The march through the Wolfswood is trying."

"Yes, they will rest," Tywin said. "But we won't burden you for long before we march. Our tents are accommodations enough. There's no need for you to force courtesies."

"I'm not forcing courtesies. I am paying a debt," Robb said. "If your men had not arrived on the battlefield, Roose Bolton would have overwhelmed us."

"By my recollection, you already paid that debt a short time ago," Tywin pointed out.

That was right...Robb had inadvertently saved Tywin Lannister's life when he attacked Ramsay. He hadn't meant to, but he had all the same. "I paid my debt to you. Not to your other generals," he said at last. "So Winterfell is open to you. I insist."

Tywin inclined his head and did not argue further. "With any luck, we can get a name from Ramsay Bolton before we march."

"I hope we can," Robb said flatly. "Once we have the name, his miserable life will no longer be necessary."

"No," Tywin said. "But don't be hasty. He does not deserve the mercy of a quick death."

"He won't have one," Robb vowed.

A rider approached them then, and Robb turned to see Jaime Lannister on its back. He gave Robb a nod and cast a glance at his father's side. "You're wounded."

"Only slightly," Tywin said. "I'll have a maester see to it soon."

"You have my thanks, Ser Jaime," Robb said. "For securing Winterfell in my absence."

"It was your sister's plan," Jaime said. "If she could stand, I'm sure she would have led the charge herself. But all the same you're welcome." He shifted on his horse. "Actually, I'm here because your sister sent me. She asks you return at once."

"Why? Is Arya all right?" Robb asked.

"She's fine. She wasn't the sister who sent me. It was the lady Sansa," Jaime said. "Your children have been asking for you."

Robb felt a shudder go through his body. My children...

God's above, could they truly be alive?


Robb passed beneath the north gates of Winterfell, trying not to let the desperation show on his face. He knew that everyone was watching him. His followers, his enemies, his family. He tried to keep his head high and his expression controlled as he swung from horse.

Already, the soldiers had begun the task of removing the bodies from the ramparts and covering them with cloth. Robb knew that Tailisa was among them but he could not look for her now. As he stepped into the courtyard, he looked around for a familiar face. He caught sight of his mother, who approached and rested a hand on her arm.

"Mother...where...?" he asked in a soft voice.

"They're in the Godswood," Catelyn murmured. "Go on. I'll oversea things here until you're done."

Robb nodded and strode off toward the Godswood as quickly as he could without looking frantic. He passed through the gate and into the familiar woods of his childhood. Even at a distance, he caught a flash of red hair. Sansa's red hair. She was sitting by the pool with two children at her side and a baby in her arms. A baby who had grown a great deal since Robb had last seen him.

He let out a ragged breath and Sansa back at him, a sad smile on her face. She leaned down to whisper something to the children.

Ned and Lyanna turned then and locked onto him with their big, beautiful eyes. Their skin was pale from over a month in the crypt but they were healthy and strong. And smiles split their faces as if they had never known the war at all.

"Father!"

His son and daughter scrambled toward him and Robb fell to his knees, catching them both up in his arms. He clung onto them tightly, trying to keep back his tears.

"Home," Lyanna rejoiced. "You're home."

"I'm home," he murmured. "I'll be home for some time now. I'm sorry I went away."

Sansa stood and approached them, holding little Ben in her arms. Robb stood to receive him. "Ah...you've grown so much, Ben." He pulled him into his arms. The baby reached out a hand, grasping at his nose. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I'm so sorry." He looked up at Sansa. "Thank you for protecting them."

Sansa shook her head. "Of course. I'm sorry that I couldn't..." she trailed off, unable to find the words. Robb rested a hand on her upper arm.

"You have no blame for that, Sansa."

Ned tugged on Robb's cloak. "Father...Aunt Sansa says that...that mother won't be coming home."

A fresh wave of pain rolled over Robb. He looked from Ned to Sansa who had a helpless expression her face. It was not easy explaining death to such young children. How could one really understand when someone they loved was alive one minute and dead the next?

"Why?" Ned asked. "Why did she leave us? Did we do something wrong?"

"No," Robb said. "No, you did nothing. She didn't want to leave you, believe me. She was taken away from us." He ruffled his son's hair. "And if she could, she would fight her way back to you. She loved you all so much."

Ned's eyes filled with tears. "But I want...I want to see her again. Just one more time."

Robb shook his head. He knew perfectly well that it was impossible to see her. The children would not be able to bare what she looked like now. "I'm sorry. But you can't." He knelt again, drawing his eldest son close. "I'm sorry, Ned."

His boy clung to him and wept against his shoulder. Lyanna did not weep, for she did not seem to understand. And little Ben had likely already forgotten his mother's face. But Ned knew. And Ned cried.

Winterfell belonged to the Starks again, and they had one the war. But victory was never without its losses.


The battle for the north had been won and Winterfell reclaimed, but the war was not over. The fates of the traitors had yet to be decided and some had even escaped when they fled on the battlefield. And even after all of the treachery was burned out, it would leave a scar on the north. Perhaps a scar that would last all throughout Robb's reign.

Arya was unable to watch the trials as she was recovering in bed and not allowed to wander until Maester Luwin gave her his approval. But she heard what happened from Bran, who visited her often.

"All of those who took up swords for the Boltons are set to die," Bran said. "He will not give them the opportunity to take the black. They are too treacherous for that. The Boltons who took Winterfell are already hanging in the Wolfswood. They did not have clean deaths."

"Good," Arya said. "They did not deserve it." She flipped her knife between her fingers. "What about the other families. Umbers, Karstarks, Ryswells, Lockwoods."

"Death for the lords," Bran said. "But the soldiers have the choice to join the watch. Robb says it would be unwise to deprive the wall of so many soldiers in this time. He'll pass the Umber's holdings onto the Umbers who remained at the wall to assist in the battle against the wildlings. They have proven themselves true. But the other traitors will have their holdfasts distributed to Stark loyalists and their children given as wards to various northern lords. Robb says that since his children were spared, so will be the children of the traitors. A fair exchange."

Arya nodded once. It was fair. To allow the traitor's families to keep their castles and subjects would only show weakness and allow for another vengeful rebellion in a few years' time. But Robb did not stoop to killing innocents. The loyal houses would not respect him if he had.

The Lannisters had stayed out of the decision entirely. Though Tywin was present for some of the discussion, he did not voice his opinion. Only watched. He must've known that if he asserted himself, he would make Robb look weak in comparison. The only time when he did speak was when Robb told the northern lords about Arya's engagement to Jaime.

Arya exhaled, leaning back against her pillow. "I can't tell you how happy I am that I wasn't present for that. How did they react?"

"They didn't like it," Bran said. "But after the battle, there was very little they could say. Besides, this is Tywin solidifying the Lannister truce with the Starks. With everything in such chaos, the north needs the support of the west and the crown. That's what Robb said anyway."

"Was Jaime there for that meeting?" Arya asked.

"No. Conveniently absent."

Arya laughed once. "Good. So Robb didn't throw him to the wolves."

Bran's mouth twitched into a smile. "Some of the northern lords were surely disappointed though. After your strategy played out so well, I think some were keen to engage you to their sons."

"So Robb did tell them...that it was my plan." Arya looked out the window. "Were they doubtful?"

"A few of them," Bran said. "But it would be a strange thing for Robb to lie about. Then when Lord Tywin confirmed it...well they knew that he wouldn't give credit to someone else unless it was due."

Arya barely smiled. "That's true."

Still, the losses could not be overstated. Tailisa was one such loss, but many of the innocent civilians of Winterfell had been butchered as well. Hodor had been spared, but only because the Bolton soldiers found him entertaining. They found him chained in the yard, crying out his name over and over again, and he still could not sleep through the night. And Osha...Osha had only survived the reclaiming of the keep by a few hours.

"She helped to open the gate again when the Lannister men were fighting off Boltons," Bran murmured, his left hand curling around the three fingers on his fight. "She took an arrow. I found her there through Summers eyes and Maester Luwin did what he could but...but I watched her die." Bran's eyes glistened with tears. "She always defended us. Protected us. She helped us survive the Greyjoys. I was so sure she would survive."

Arya reached over to rest a hand on her brother's arm. "I'm sorry, Bran. You've...you've suffered so much in these past months. More than me."

Bran shook his head. "No. No more than you, Arya. Just differently."

Bran's company was welcome. So was Sansa's. Her sister visited often and sat by her bedside with her needle work or her book. They spoke when Arya wished to speak and sat in silence when Arya could not find words. But always, Sansa's presence was a comfort.

Then, when Robb had finally gotten the most major problems under wraps, he came to visit her as well.

"Bran says you're handling everything well," Arya said.

"I'm glad it appears that way," Robb said.

"Appearances are sometimes what matter most in ruling," Arya said. "You...told them about my plan as well."

"I did," Robb said. "You deserved it. I wouldn't take the credit away from you."

Arya nodded once, staring at her hands. "And where... is he?" Arya asked. "Ramsay. What did you do with him?"

"He's in the dungeons," Robb said. "With a broken nose and significantly less teeth than before the battle."

Arya's hands clenched on her blanket. So he was here...and alive. Just like she wanted. But somehow his mere presence in Winterfell made her blood feel like ice. She wanted to kill him and be rid of him already.

"I wanted to kill him," Robb said, as if echoing her thoughts. "I nearly did. But...I remembered that you asked me to bring him back alive if I could."

"Thank you," Arya murmured. "You deserved to kill him after what he did to your wife. I just...I need to watch him die. If I don't then...then my mind might not believe that he's gone."

"I understand," Robb said. "Truly."

Arya steeled herself and started to rise from bed. "Well... let's go."

"No." Robb held out a hand. "Stay here and rest for awhile. We can't kill him yet."

"Why not?" Arya asked.

"Roose Bolton died during the battle," Robb said. "Ramsay may be the only one who knows the name of the traitor in the south. Lord Tywin would like to get that name from him one way or another."

"I can get the name from him if you let me try," Arya muttered.

"No doubt. But you're in no shape for that right now," Robb said. "Rest. He's not going anywhere."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"He's being kept under watch at all times," Robb said. "How could he escape?"

"Because I did." Arya looked up at Robb. "Post more guards. Don't underestimate him."

Robb gaze softened for just as moment as he seemed to recognize the depth of her fear. She looked away, hoping it might convince him that he had imagined the flash of terror. "All right. I'll post more guards."

"Good." Arya settled back against the pillows as Robb left and closed the door behind him. But she didn't rest. She didn't even close her eyes.

Ramsay was caught, yes, but not dead. And as long as he lived, she was not safe.


Tywin had seen the Bolton bastard's eyes in many people over the years. Those bright, cruel eyes. In the songs, it was always the heroes and fair maidens who had bright eyes, full of joy. And the villains and cold, lifeless eyes that seemed to feel nothing.

But in the real world the most dangerous villains-villains like Ramsay-had bright eyes, even when doing the most terrible things. They were not cruel out of necessity or with any real purpose. Their joy was in suffering and it made their eyes shine. Tywin had seen those eyes in his own grandson. In the Mountain, who he used for many unpleasant tasks. And before that, he had seen those eyes in Aerys Targaryen.

The boy looked up at him and gave a bloody smile. "Lord Tywin Lannister." He said each part of his name slowly as if savoring it. "I've heard so many stories but I never expected to meet you in person. Then, not only do I meet you, I very nearly killed you. I think I would have succeeded too, if not for the Stark boy. What do you think?"

Tywin did not reply. This boy was clearly the kind who liked to talk and if he let him talk perhaps he would reveal some privileged information.

"It's a shame," Ramsay continued. "I wanted to see if the west could survive without you. Father said that all the lords of the westerlands were united in fear of Tywin Lannister. You even have that song about your terrible deeds. It's a rather good song. 'And now the rains weep o'er their halls...and not a soul to here.'" Ramsay's head lolled to the side. "A memorable melody. I suppose that's what you plan to do to my family."

"I already have," Tywin said. "Your father is dead. He has no other sons but you. And your life is nearly at its end."

"But not at its end yet," Ramsay said. "Why is that again? One moment Robb Stark was fully trying to kill me. The next...he had stopped. I don't remember why because I was a bit dazed from the punching. But I'm guessing it was because you still needed something from me. Isn't that right?" Ramsay lifted his chin, as if he was trying to look down his nose at Tywin. "You want a name."

"I do," Tywin said. "You could save me a great deal of time if you gave it to me now. And you could save yourself a great deal of pain."

"I'm not concerned with time or pain," Ramsay said. "But I have thought about giving you the name."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"Yes," Ramsay said. "It's not as if I have any real loyalty to your southern traitor. They have no loyalty to us. We were convenient for them. That's all." Ramsay smirked. "But then again...I keep imagining what trouble it will cause for you if I do not tell you. I keep imagining all the chaos and it makes me smile."

"You won't live long enough to watch the chaos," Tywin pointed out.

"That's all right. It makes me happy enough to know it will happen," Ramsay said.

"After a few days of torture, I'm not sure you will be so happy," Tywin said.

"I know how torture works, Lord Tywin. I've participated in so much of it," Ramsay said. "I think you'll find that it will not loosen my tongue. You are welcome to try of course." He shifted in his bindings on the chair. "Will you let her try too? Arya Stark?"

Tywin felt an icy anger spread through him. Somehow, his mere mentioning of her name made him furious. But he did not let it show.

"I hope you do," Ramsay continued. "She really is something. Sometimes when she snarled I thought she might truly be a wolf in a girl's body. So wild and strong. But those are always the most entertaining to break aren't they?" He laughed once. "I hadn't finished with her yet, but I was getting close. I saw her weak. I saw her so afraid."

Tywin didn't reply. He just stared Ramsay down. Let him talk. He was only trying to provoke Tywin into giving him a quicker death. Or maybe he just wanted to see if he could get under Tywin's skin. Either way, he would not give him the pleasure.

"Now that I'm captive, I suppose she hopes to break me in exchange," Ramsay said. "She would try very hard, I'm sure and once I draw my last breath, she might even expect to feel safe and strong again." He shook his head. "But that's not what will happen. Even after I'm dead, I'll linger in the back of her mind. Because I may not have broken her, but I left little cracks with my name on them. She tries to hide them all behind that mask but they're there. Have you seen them? I hope you've seen them. I'm proud of my work."

Tywin did not reply. He let the silence hang in the air. And soon enough it seemed to affect Ramsay. He shifted in his seat, his eyes narrowing.

"What's wrong? Nothing to say in defense of your ward?" his tone was more shaken. Tywin didn't suppose he was used to people standing so calmly in front of him. "You must care for her if you returned to the battlefield. Speak up."

At last, Tywin let an icy smile cross his face. "Don't make a fool of yourself by trying to provoke me, boy. It won't work. I was hand of the king to Aerys Targaryen for years. I'm used to dealing with your kind."

"Do I truly match up with the mad king?" Ramsay's eyes brightened.

"No," Tywin said. "If anything, you are a cheap imitation."

That seemed to make him angry. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Ramsay Bolton liked to fancy himself some sort of powerful figure in this game. But he was nothing more than a dog. He had never been anything more than a rabid mongrel.

"But in answer to your question...yes. I will let Arya try to loosen your tongue," Tywin turned, stepping toward the cell door. "I'll let her kill you, if she wants. Your life belongs to her."

Ramsay let out a hoarse laugh as Tywin motioned for the guards to unlock the cell. "Ah...good. I'm so glad I'll get to see her again. I'll look forward to that."

So will she, no doubt, Tywin thought. Then he paused just before he left the cell and drew a dagger from his belt.

"One more thing, before I go," he said.

"What's that?" Ramsay asked.

By way of answer, Tywin turned, before Ramsay could respond, and brought the blade down on Ramsay's hand, severing his two smallest fingers. Ramsay let out a hiss of pain between his teeth, arching in his chair. For a moment, the smug glee in his eyes changed to pain and Tywin was glad to see it.

Without a word, Tywin knelt and picked up both of the fingers in his gloved hand, listening to Ramsay's pained gasps as he did. He opened a pouch and dropped them both inside, closing it tight. "Good. Just what I needed." He looked up at Ramsay. "You took two fingers from my ward. It's only fair that you give her two fingers back."

Ramsay gritted his teeth together, barking out a pained laugh. "Ah...I am so glad...I was able to meet you, Lord Tywin."

Tywin strode from the cell without another glance at the bastard of Bolton. "You won't be for long."


A/N: Never have I been so aware of the difference between lawful and chaotic evil than when writing that last scene. That sure was something. Hope you enjoyed the bittersweetness of the aftermath. Next chapter...well I believe you will all like next chapter a lot ;) Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!