Disclaimer: I don't own ASoIaF/GoT. Thanks for every lovely review, you guys rock! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. This'll probably be the last update until after Christmas, but I should update at least one of my stories before the New Year, hopefully both.

(There is another short jump back in time for the first part of this, then forward again for Gerold's trial).

Read, enjoy and review!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Judgement of the Wolf Princess

Sunspear: 2nd August, 299 AC

Robb:

"Are you sure about this?" Arya peered up at him. "It's not too late for us to grab the wolves and run off, you know."

"I thought that you liked Laena," Larra frowned at her from where she was sitting at the vanity, her handmaiden Shae pulling her hair into an elaborate braid with jewelled pins decorating the hairstyle. They were all dressed for the wedding ceremony already, Larra in a silver and white dress in the 'conservative' Dornish style, Arya in a grey and white tunic with breeches, her hair pulled back into a plain braid. Robb himself wore a similar outfit to Arya, though his was masculine and had a direwolf sewn on the breast. He wore a Stark cloak around his shoulders, as he would be becoming a member of House Targaryen with this wedding, instead of Elaena joining House Stark.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about becoming kin to the men who had done so much damage to his family, but he knew that he loved Laena, and if this was the cost he had to pay to be with her, then so be it, he would pay willingly. Besides, it was not as if there were any other Targaryens yet. There had once been, but Viserys Targaryen "the Begger King" had died years ago, and nobody knew what had happened to Princess Daenerys after her marriage to the Dothraki horse lord.

Robb didn't really understand, nor did he pretend to know how things would be for him in the future, as King Consort. He was a bastard. Yes, he had been fortunate enough to be born into House Stark of the Winterlands, therefore he had it far easier than any bastard born between the Neck and the Red Mountains. But he had made it obvious from the start that he did not want to be a lord ruling over a keep, though he had no doubt his uncle would have made arrangements for him to be landed, if he had wanted that.

But Robb had always been a master warrior and tactician, always beating his peers and even the older fosterlings, and so he had been drawn, naturally, towards the Warg Warriors. He had planned to join them and become Captain, heading his cousin/sister's army in the future. He had spent the past few years relying on his martial skills. He had his doubts as to how well he'd do in peacetime court, filled with southrons currying favour to his and Laena's faces and scheming behind their back. Just the thought made him grimace. It was so much easier in the Winterlands. There, when somebody wanted to kill you, they did so.

But Laena was worth it. For her, he'd grit his teeth and muddle through as best he could.

"I do like Laena," Arya replied to Larra, her voice grumpy as she acknowledged that fact. "But that doesn't mean she should be marrying Robb. I still think we ought to go home and leave all the burners to fix their own damn messes."

Shae had just finished doing her hair, so Larra sighed as she stood, smoothing out any creases that had formed in her dress. Her handmaiden slipped out, leaving the siblings alone for a few private moments before they had to go to the ceremony.

"Well, Robb?" Larra asked mildly. "Are you ready to marry a lovely woman, one who will be Queen soon enough?"

"It'll be a sacrifice," Robb sassed his sisters. "But I suppose that it'll be good for our House, so I shall make it and wed a beautiful, intelligent and powerful lady."

Arya snorted, then darted in to wrap her slim arms around his waist, hugging him with surprising strength for someone so small and slim. Larra also joined the embrace, the three of them hugging each other tightly.

"I wish that they were here," Arya whispered, voice muffled. "I wish we were at home, and you were a Warg Warrior and preparing to marry Sybelle Amber instead, that we were witnesses to Larra wedding Torrhen. I wish none of this had ever happened, that we had never left home. Everything would have been so much better then."

"I know, Arya," Larra sniffled. Robb could tell she was trying not to cry and ruin the make-up Shae had carefully done. "I wish that they were here as well."

"Me too," Robb agreed, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He wished desperately for his uncle to be there to give him the wise and assuring advice Eddard Stark had been known for. If anybody could have reassured him about being a husband, it would be him. But never again would any of them be able to have their father rest a hand on their shoulder and give them a serious look as he advised them on something.

Arya slipped out of the embrace after several moments. "Nymeria is upset about something," she muttered. "I better go and settle her before she eats a guard or something."

Robb rather suspected that Nymeria was not the one upset, but he said nothing, merely nodding. Arya had always hated being vulnerable, something that had only increased over the past couple of years.

"We will see you in the sept then," Larra murmured, running a hand over Arya's braid to flatten it in a motherly fashion.

Like for Larra, Robb's wedding would take place in a sept. But he and Laena had already agreed that once they had secured control of the capital, they would have a second ceremony in the godswood there, just as Larra, the Viper and Ellaria planned to have a First Man's wedding once Winterfell was restored.

"Larra," Robb began. He did not have either of his uncles available for advice, but his sister was always a wonderful sounding board. "How did you know that you had fallen in love with your husband and Ellaria?" He was certain that he loved Laena, but the question was nagging at him, and had been for some time now.

Larra chewed on her bottom lip, looking thoughtful and tilting her head in a bird-like motion that brought to mind Lady Arielle when she was contemplating the best way to explain a complicated lesson to her pupils. Robb and the boys had not spent much time with her, but they'd had a few lessons on etiquette and politics from her and Máthair instead of from Scholar Luwin.

"Do you know, I have not ever said that I love them to them?" she stated finally. Robb blinked in surprise. Of course, he had seen the pair tell her that they loved her, though Larra did not say it in return, either smiling and kissing them, or else saying that she trusted them. Robb had simply assumed it was because of their upbringing, which demanded such things be kept behind closed doors. He knew that she loved them though. He could see it in the way she acted around them, automatically adjusting herself to be closer to them when they entered a room, relaxing into their touch, trusting them in way she trusted nobody else save for Robb and Arya themselves.

"Why not?" he inquired, frowning slightly. She had been married the best part of a year now, and had known them longer. She'd already loved them by the time he and Arya had arrived. What was stopping her from saying so?

"I do love them, and it frightens me terribly," Larra admitted. She continued before he could interrupt. "In response to your actual question, I suppose that I realized that I loved them when I informed them that I was with child, and Ellaria said that she could not wait to meet our babe, and Oberyn kissed my stomach and said that he could not wait to meet the next generation of Starks. That he was willing to have our children be named Starks for me, that Ellaria unquestionably considered the babe her own despite them not sharing blood, that was what settled it.

I just, I do not know. It was not sudden. It was not as if they spoke with me once and I fell head over heels. I was wary of them first. The offer to marry me to keep me from the lions shocked me, I had not considered them that way at all, I truly I had not. I knew logically that they were attractive, and we'd had some enjoyable conversations, but I did not think of such things. Honestly, I associated all of that sort of thing with danger after all of the threats the lions had made to me. I accepted Oberyn's proposal because I was desperate. I did not yet truly trust them, but I trusted that they hated the Lannisters, so if I was his wife I would be away from them. Not to mention the truth vow we had all taken.

I started to genuinely trust them when Oberyn insisted on waiting until I was emotionally ready to consummate our marriage, instead of taking his rights. I knew that he enjoyed sex, but he was willing to wait for me to be more comfortable. Then when Oberyn was fighting the Mountain, I felt as if I would die of fear for him, and I think the only thing that kept me from fainting was Ellaria. She was like an anchor."

"But why not tell them so?" Robb had listened in silence to his sister's speech. She had said none of it to him before, save for small fragments. But he was glad to hear it, even if the reminder of everything she had gone through enraged him. He had never thanked the Martells for saving her, Robb realized suddenly. He would have to do so. He had not saved her, as was his familial duty, and that was something that he would never be able to forgive himself for. But he needed to thank his soon-to-be goodfamily for succeeding where he and the North had failed.

Another thought occurred to him. Larra had not said 'I love you' to him since their reunion either. Nor to Arya, so far as he knew. His frown deepened. She had always been free (for a Northerner) with her affection and expressions of love as a child. They had all been, as was proper for a pack of wolves such as their family. Warm hugs and expressions of love had been frequent, though once they were past a certain age they had restricted it to behind closed doors, as was appropriate.

She glanced away briefly. "Do you know that the last people I told I love you were Athair and Uncail Arthur?" she asked, voice trembling on their names.

He swallowed harshly against the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. "When?" he questioned her softly.

Her eyes had shifted to stony grey and shone with unshed tears as she answered. "They used to make them confess," she explained, voice monotone. "I was dragged down to the cell where they were and given some water and a cloth to tend their wounds. Gods Robb, it was awful. Daidí was so weak and bruised, Uncail had both of his legs and his arms broken because of the fight he'd put up trying to protect Daidí. After I had done what I could for them, the jailors came back in. They made them watch as I was stripped and then had a knife held to my throat. They threatened to make them watch me be raped to death unless they confessed. They threatened Arya too, because we didn't know you had escaped."

She laughed bitterly as Robb struggled between horror and rage, pulling his sister into a tight hug as she continued. Robb almost wanted her to stop, but he didn't interrupt, listening to her bare her griefs to him. He was her brother, he would help her bare them as best he could. A woman marrying did not mean she could lose her blood family's protection and support.

"Of course, they could not get the confession out swiftly enough after Rugen promised on the gods that we would be spared if they admitted their 'treason'," she sneered the word contemptuously, swiping at her cheeks. Her make-up was undamaged, but her eyes were red-rimmed. "Rugen said that mercy would be shown, that they would be sent to the Watch, not executed. Then they oh-so graciously granted us a few moments' alone to say goodbye.

They promised me that all would be well, told me to do whatever necessary to stay safe until I could get back to the Winterlands, even if it meant scorning them as evil incarnate and kissing the Lannisters' boots. Then they said that they loved me, that it was a worthy sacrifice if I was safe. I told them I loved them as well, and then the guards made me leave before I could say more.

Then the next day, I had to watch as they were made to confess in front of a huge crowd, all of King's Landing had come it seemed. None of the commons were pleased about what was happening, everyone could tell.

It was unsurprising to me, but I think that it offended Joffrey and Cersei. Never mind that our family probably gave more alms in that small period that we were there together than that entire family combined did in all of their years living in the Red Keep. And then, after the confession, Joffrey," she spat the name with the same utter loathing that Robb felt for the incest-born brute who had ordered his kin's deaths and his sister's torture. "He said that he had agreed to be merciful. And then he said that he had changed his mind," she hissed the words, hatred twisting her lovely face. "Changed his mind!

And then he called for Payn to come forward. Athair was executed first. I think they did it like that deliberately, to make Uncail suffer more, because he was captain of our guards. Then they dragged Uncail forward and made him kneel in Papa's blood, and took his head off." She exhaled shakily, looking just upset instead of angry now. She looked down at her lap, adding quietly. "Both of them looked at me as they were killed. Daidí mouthed something at me, but I do not know what it was."

Robb blinked back his own tears, hugging her tightly. "They would have done it for any of us," Robb said shakily. "Without blinking. Máthair also. They loved us, Larra. Do not demean their sacrifice by saying it wasn't worth it. It was to them, and is that not what matters?"

She looked at him with shining eyes. "Oberyn and Ellaria have been saying similar things," she admitted. "But, it means more coming from you somehow. I do not know why."

"I knew Athair and Uncail," Robb suggested. "They did not. Maybe that is why."

She nodded thoughtfully, swiping at her cheeks again. "Gods, how did we end up speaking of such things on your wedding day?" she asked rhetorically. "That is not a fitting topic for such an occasion."

Robb gave a half-smile. "Ah, but have you not heard from these southrons how grim we Northerners are?" he asked as lightly as he could, trying to lighten the mood. "So surely, we ought to be acting as if a wedding is the equivalent to a funeral. That would suit our reputations perfectly."

Larra giggled softly, smiling a slightly-strained smile.

Robb glanced out of the window, noting that they had only a few more moments before they absolutely had to leave to avoid being late. He certainly did not want to be tardy to his own wedding, and Laena would probably be furious if he was.

But there was one last thing he had to tell his sister before they left for the sept. "You know, Larra," he said gently to her. "Telling them you love them, saying it to Arya and I again, that is not going to curse us to die soon."

Her bottom lip trembled again. "The last thing I said to Máthair, Bran and Alayne was I love you as well," she whispered.

"I know," Robb replied solemnly, recalling the image of their family, slowly fading from view as they rode away from Winterfell. "But that was not what killed them. Any of them. And it will not kill us, either. You do not have to, but I beseech you not to let the lions win, Sister. And if you give into this fear, prevent yourself fully opening up your heart again, then that is what will happen.

Don't give them that power over you, Larra. They do not deserve such."

She was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, before they both rose in unison. "Are you ready to become a husband and a king with one set of vows, Brother mine?" she asked with a warm smile.

"Not in the slightest," Robb admitted honestly. "But for her, I will try my best to be a good one."

"Just follow Athair's example," Larra suggested. "Then you will be fine."

Robb nodded in agreement, then offered her his arm to guide her from the room so they could make their way to the sept for his wedding.

Sunspear: September 4th, 299 AC

Larra:

The happiness of the celebrations for her brother/cousin and stepdaughter/goodniece's wedding seemed to be years past only a turn of the moon later, when Larra found herself sitting between her goodbrother and Lady Delonne Allyrion, her goodaunt, the three of them to act as judges for Gerold's trial. There was no jury, as the south did not use them, though Doran had been fascinated by the Winterlands' legal system, as had Laena.

"Your House has had more than eight millennia to perfect ruling," Laena had pointed out to her reasonably. "We would learn of it, to improve our own skills, if you would share."

Doing so could only benefit Westeros as a whole, so Larra had lately spent many hours explaining her family's methods to Doran and Laena, who listened intently and came up with intelligent questions about various things. From what her stepdaughter had been saying, Larra expected much of her kingdom's laws and practices to be adopted once Laena had established herself enough to be able to start making waves in the muddy political waters of court.

The court of Sunspear was all gathered to watch the trial. Larra searched for her loves' gazes, reassured when she met their eyes and they gave her encouraging looks. She had yet to take Robb's advice and tell them outright that she loved them. When the time was right, she would do so. But not just yet. She felt that she would know when it was right.

This was not only the first time she had sat in judgement over a trial such as this, but it was for such a personal crime, also. Were they in the Winterlands, she'd not have been allowed near the judging bench, or the jury. Quietly, she was pleased to be one of his judges. She wanted to pass the worst sentence she could think of down on him, wanted to look in his eyes and hear his explanation for turning on his family.

Like her father, Larra's wolf's blood was mild. But also like him, when it was evoked it was enduring and vengeful, in contrast to her late Uncle Brandon, who had gotten angry at the drop of a hat and then lost that same fury within moments, becoming best friends with people he'd been on the verge of murdering only moments prior to that.

The doors opened, and a pair of Martell guards entered, holding their spears. Then, following the two Dornishmen came six of her former foster siblings. It had been years, but Larra could identify each of them with a look: Markus Whitewolf, Jorelle 'Jory' Mormont, Matthos Seaworth, Cley Cerwyn, Daryn Hornwood and Jojen Reed. They were surrounding another familiar figure.

Larra swallowed, staring at her cousin. She hardly noticed anything else around her as he was escorted up to the waiting dais, and subsequently chained to the floor. His nose was broken, his eyes blackened. His clothes and hair were dirty and bloodstained, and his shoulders were slumped in resignation. Matthos and Jory held him roughly by his upper arms, even after he was tied down. The herald's voice, introducing him and listing the crimes he was accused of (treason against his liege family, murder, conspiracy to usurp his liege's title, kinslaying and oathbreaking), barely penetrated her mind.

She was Chief Judge and would be interrogating him. In the south, in contrast to her homeland, the person with the greatest connection to the accused, or else the highest rank, was the interrogator and Chief Judge. She felt it a bad idea in general, but in this case she appreciated it.

Gerold was ordered at spear point to vow on the Old Gods not to lie, and the trial began.

The hall was silent as she locked eyes with him, violet on violet, and spoke, not bothering to mince her words. "Did you do it?"

Something flashed over his expression, and he looked down, breaking the gaze. "Yes," he responded quietly. "I did."

Arya snarled in anger. Robb let out a growl, and Laena rested her hand on his arm, looking worried. The Winterlanders looked ready to rip his throat out themselves, eyes enraged.

Larra had been angry before, but now she just felt tired and empty. "Why?" she half-whispered. "Why Gerold? Máthair and Athair raised you after your parents died. They treated you as another son, they loved you. Trusted you. You helped Bran learn to read the Old Tongue. When my mother was birthing Alayne, you prayed for them with us in the godswood, and you were among the first to hold her, you watched my sister's first steps! How could you murder them?"

Her voice had gained passion as she spoke, her previous emptiness shifting to hurt and fury. Her babes kicked within her, and she rested a hand on her seven months' pregnant stomach protectively. She stared desperately at her cousin, silently beseeching him to at least tell her the truth of why he had done such a thing to them, after everything and in spite of their familial ties.

He exhaled shakily, and set his shoulders. His eyes were wet when he met her gaze, but Larra was unmoved by his seeming remorse. Regret was all well and good, but it did not change the past, or the consequences of his actions.

"I," he faltered and then continued. "I was greedy, and an idiot. I wanted- 'Tis like you said, Larra. They treated me as a son. I felt like I was their elder son. I wanted more than to be one of Nedric's men or an advisor. And then after Uncail Ned died, everything was in chaos and nobody knew what to do. Theon proposed we go to Pyke, convince them to help us take over Winterfell. He wanted to prove to his people that he was a worthy Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, and we figured that we could get the Winterlands under control. I just- things got out of hand. It was not meant to be this way, it truly was not."

Larra stared at him, feeling hollow again. Her pregnancy made her emotions shift faster than the wind, as far as she could tell. Ellaria had told her it was common in a pregnant lady.

"You felt that, as the eldest adopted son of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, it belonged to you," she stated flatly, having seen the truth behind his words. "So, you decided to sack my home, kill not just my mother and young, defenceless siblings, but also a dozen lords and their spouses and heirs, as well as the servants and guards! How? Tell me how you managed it!"

His voice had a hint of a tremble as he answered. "Theon and I revealed the guard rotations to the IronBorn. Prior, we preformed several raids disguised as wildling attacks on the settlements near to Winterfell, places we knew would need reinforcements to be sent from Winterfell, so the keep was not so heavily guarded. Theon also had the exits of the passages blocked off so nobody could escape, but I swear by the Old Gods that I did not know of that until later. I never meant for Aintín or your siblings to die or be harmed, I swear Larra. I did not want them to be, but the IronBorn were out of my control. Your mother fought to the end, killed several of them herself and scratched out the eye of the one who-" he faltered and swallowed.

Larra stood, feeling oddly calmed, and then she leaned over the table to spit at his feet. "Damn you," she breathed.

"I do not believe we need to hear anymore," Doran spoke up. "You have confessed to your crimes. I judge you guilty of all crimes, and defer the decision of your sentencing to Princess Alarra Stark-Martell, Lady Paramount of the Winterlands and Lady of Winterfell."

"I concur with Prince Doran," Lady Delonne agreed.

Larra lifted her chin and pursed her lips to whistle in a very particular pattern.

Gerold's face drained of what little blood had been in his cheeks, knowing what she had just done. He looked stricken with terror, and Larra smirked darkly at him, knowing that she was probably radiating fury. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, that her fellow Winterlanders all looked viciously satisfied, eyes gleaming eagerly, whilst the Dornish looked either puzzled or suspicious.

Taibhse came bounding in after several moments, causing several startled shrieks. Gerold swallowed thickly and began muttering a prayer in the Old Tongue as she bounded down the aisle.

"Taibhse," Larra called to her direwolf, somehow certain that her expression was as icy as her father's had been when doing this. She stepped away from the judge's table, feeling everyone's eyes on her but for once uncaring of it. Justice for her mother and siblings was here at last. The Greyjoys would not last much longer, but Gerold was the one she hated most for his actions. The others had all been enemies from the start, even if her parents had tried to treat Theon as a ward instead of a hostage, but Gerold had been family. His action was the worst, in Larra's opinion.

Tai came to her side, and Larra, stroked her fur. She could not kill Gerold with her own hands. She would not do him the service of damning her soul by becoming a kinslayer. But this was a fitting death for the treacherous cur.

She walked towards him as Jory and Matthos forced him to his knees. To his credit, he did not struggle or plead, resigned to his fate.

"Any last words?" she asked flatly.

"I really do regret it," Gerold responded, looking up at her. "If I could go back in time and change my decision, I would. But I cannot, so I accept this, and I accept that I will go to the Dungeons of the Gods."

"May the Gods have mercy on your soul," Larra replied curtly. "Because I will not."

Then she turned to her beloved familiar. "Taibhse, marú é," she ordered coldly. The albino wolf ran right at the waiting man, her teeth closing around his neck and subsequently tearing his throat out, making blood spray as his head fell to the floor alongside his body, blood flowing out of both of them.

A sob burst from her lips as she stared at the scene, and she found herself bending almost double with the force of her weeping. A moment later, Oberyn's arms were scooping her up and he was taking her from the hall, Ellaria at his side.