A/N: Some people were wondering if the Starks know about Baelish's betrayal. No, not exactly 'cause no one really knows what transpired in the Throne Room when Ned was arrested. But they do have the brains to not trust him.

Sorry for the late updates. But thanks for all the reviews and love again! We get a little Jon Marge this chapter!

Plans began to be set in motion. Five days after the War Council Littlefinger left Riverrun for Seagard. He was to travel by ship to the Reach where he would be joined by Willas Tyrell. From there they would board a ship to Mereen and meet Jon's aunt, Daenerys Targaryen. Two days after Littlefinger's departure Jon and his army, consisting of Reachmen, Northerners and the Knights of the Vale, left Riverrun.

They travelled as fast as the snow showers and ensuing cold permitted. The Arryn and Tyrell men, especially the Tyrell men, unused to the biting cold that early Winter could bring, slowed them down. On the other hand, the Northerners thrived in the cold. The Southerners' respect for them increased so. After over a week of dealing with colds and fevers among his men, a brief wave of relief washed over Jon when the Twins finally came into view. He hoped a night or two behind the walls and the castle food would improve the condition of his men.

In the same breath, Jon felt his sword cry for justice. He did not forget for a moment what had conspired within the walls of the former seat of House Frey. The deaths of Robb and Talisa had been plotted behind them. The downfall of his mother's house. Jon was all too happy to avenge his brother's death. His king's death. He had embraced his father's heritage for this. Jon glanced at Arya, who rode by his side, to see her eyes focused and her hand hovering over needle. Sansa and Lady Catelyn travelled a little behind them along with the Tyrells. Both of them had been incredibly helpful in dealing with complains and problems with the Southerners.

Jon and his men were met by a party of crannogmen from the Twins. The crannogmen held the Crossing after Howland Reed stormed the castle while Jon had broken the Frey's siege of Riverrun. Jon, the Starks, the Tyrells and the rest of the lords were led into the castle while his men were housed within and without the walls. Howland Reed waited at the entrance of the Twins. Jon had only known the man for a short while but had already grown fond of him.

"Lord Reed."

"Your grace." Howland Reed bowed. His eyes were shining with pride at the sight of Jon in all his Targaryen glory. He was wearing his custom armour and had Darksister strapped around his waist.

"I pray that securing the Twins was not difficult."

"Not at all, my king." Lord Reed assured, the corners of his mouth twitching. "One would think Walder Frey would have been more precautious after turning on his king."

"And Walder Frey?"

"In the dungeons. Justice is yours to dispense, my king."

Justice

It sounded like music to Jon's ears. But as King, he would hold a trial. He did not want to remind people of his grandfather who had had little regard for such procedures.

Jon proceeded to introduce Lord Reed to the Tyrells, Lord Royce and Sansa. Lady Catelyn, Arya and Lord Edmure exchanged pleasantries with the lord of Greywater Watch. A crannogman came forward and offered to show them to their rooms. Jon lingered behind with Lord Reed and waited for everyone to be out of earshot. Arya did not leave with the others and stood guard. She looked away and pretended to be oblivious of their conversation.

"It seems you took my advice to heart, your grace."

Jon chuckled, "I wish I hadn't needed to."

"You wear the crown well though." Lord Reed pointed out quietly. "Your uncle would have been proud."

"Your parents would have been proud of you."

Jon smiled sadly. Sometimes he wasn't so sure of that. He had not been raised as a leader. He second-guessed every decision he took. He would agonize day and night, wondering if he took the right decision. Was it honourable or just or clever or cunning? He was in a constant dilemma and Jon had quickly understood why Robb had grown to slowly resent the burden the Northern men had placed on his shoulders. The unrelenting scrutiny from all sides did not help.

"I like to hope so, my lord." Jon replied, his voice low. "But thank you."

Lord Reed gestured to Jon to follow him and Jon fell in beside him. They walked down the halls of the Twins. He could feel Arya's shadowing presence behind them. Her footsteps light and quiet.

Lord Reed elaborated on the situation of the Twins and what he had heard from the North. The Snowstorms prevented many ravens from making their way south of the Neck and so his knowledge was limited. While Jon listened to Lord Reed, he absently observed the castle.

The castle was filled with a damp and stale smell, causing Jon to wrinkle his nose in distaste. The walls of the castle were bleak and plain. It reminded Jon of the poorly maintained Castle Black. The Twins seemed to be even worse in that regard. The interior of the castle reflected its former miserable lord.

When they finally arrived before a room, Lord Reed pushed the door open. "It was hard to find a room that would uphold a standard of a king. This was the best we could manage."

Jon waved Lord Reed's concerns away. The room was not bad. Jon had slept in far worse conditions. Far worse. The room was much like the rest of the keep. Plain and bleak. But the foul smell in the room had been overwhelmed by some perfume, much to Jon's relief. It had a fire lit and a warm bed, and Jon learned that was all he needed back in Castle Black.

"It's fine, my lord."

Jon dismissed Arya from her duties and entered the room. Lord Reed lingered at the door for a moment and waited to see if Jon would require anything more.

"That will be all, Lord Reed."

The crannogmen bowed and reached for the handle as he exited, "King Aegon."

Jon called out, "King Jon." Lord Reed paused at the door and glanced at him in question.

"I prefer Jon." Lord Reed smiled in understanding and made his way out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Jon truly did prefer the name his uncle bestowed upon him and it was a well-known preference. He was used to it and Aegon was a name that seemed so foreign to him. He only used it when he had to flaunt his heritage when it came into doubt. Plus, Aegon had been the name of his brother. It felt wrong to Jon to be called King Aegon VI when it should have been his title.

Jon, maybe not Snow anymore, was who he was.

The trial took place that very day at noon. Jon and the lords and ladies present gathered in the main hall of the Twins. Jon sat at the dais with the offended parties sitting to his left and right. Lord Edmure to his left for the Tullys and Sansa to his right for the Starks. Lord Reed too joined them at the high table as current custodian of the Twins. The rest of the lords and ladies, the Tyrells and Lady Catelyn included, sat in the hall reminiscent of the ways of court.

Jon could feel the anticipation in the hall. The men and women present wanted to see how their new king would dispense justice. Jon had a fine line to tread upon— to be merciful, not that he planned to be, would indicate weakness and he feared to be firm and unrelenting could give the wrong message to his subjects. His damned grandfather had been dead for two decades, yet he was still too fresh in the minds of the people of Westeros.

The doors to the hall screeched open and Lord Walder Frey entered, flanked by two Stark men. Jon had never met the snivelling lord before and could not say of how he had looked before his imprisonment by the Reeds. But now he was as frail as a leaf, and his long hair was in disarray. His bloodshot eyes travelled nervously around the room until they finally fell upon Jon who sat in the seat that had once been his. Murmurs filled the halls as he walked down the hall.

Jon struggled to conceal the pure black contempt and rage he had for the man, and he was failing. His sword hand itched for Longclaw or Darksister so that he could remove Walder Frey's head from his shoulders. Sansa gripped the arms of her chair in anger as she observed the man who plotted the death of her brother. Her eyes watched him with a strange dark glint. Arya, who stood at the bottom of the dais, ghosted her hand above Needle, ready to strike at the poor excuse of the man. Jon glanced at their mother and almost shivered at the cold look in her eyes. Cold as ice and calling for blood.

Lord Frey was led to the stand. The clanking of his manacles coming to an abrupt stop. Jon rose and the hall quieted down. He levelled his gaze at the former lord of the Twins as his voice rang through the hall.

"Lord Walder Frey, you stand accused of treason against your liege lord and king. You stand accused of the murder of your king. How do you plead?"

Lord Frey waited a moment before he answered. He, like Jon and everyone else in the room, knew that there was little escape from his fate.

"Not guilty." He croaked out, looking Jon defiantly in the eyes. Lord Edmure snorted.

Jon clenched his jaw. It was a pointless denial on Walder Frey's part. His army had helped take down Robb. It had surrounded Riverrun for weeks.

"No?" Jon raised an eyebrow skeptically. His gaze burning holes into the man. "You did not have your army attack that of King Robb in the Westerlands? Your army had no part in his death?"

Lord Frey raised his chin. "Robb Stark was no king of mine. He broke a vow to my house."

"A vow." Jon echoed darkly. "Remind me, Lord Frey, what that vow was?"

"He promised to marry a daughter of mine."

"In exchange for what?"

"To allow his army to use the Crossing."

Jon observed the lord who was unseemly smug for a man in his position, "Lady Catelyn was the one who bargained with you, am I right?"

The lord nodded as he leaned on the stand.

Jon smirked humorlessly at the man, "Lady Catelyn was the daughter of your liege lord. Robb Stark, the grandson of your liege lord, was taking his army past the Neck to defend Riverrun, the seat of your liege lord, from the Lannisters."

"Why should she or her son have to bargain with Lord Hoster Tully's bannerman?"

Walder Frey opened and closed his mouth, at loss for words. Jon continued, his blood bubbling with red rage. "You claim Robb Stark was no king of yours. House Frey has been sworn to House Tully for centuries, might I remind you. House Tully and in turn the Riverlands bent the knee to King Robb."

"You rose up against them because you wished to rule the Riverlands. You killed your king because the Lannisters promised that they would let you."

"My uncle taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord." Jon sounded out. His tone was taut. "And that is simply one of your many crimes."

Lord Frey shrunk at the accusation and the implications of his actions. The blood drained from his wrinkled face and his hands shook with fear. Jon paused for a few moments and waited if the old man would say anything in his defence, but even he realized that it would be futile.

"If you have nothing else to say, my lord. You have submitted yourself to the king's justice."

Jon glanced at Sansa and Lord Edmure, both of them nodded at him in approval. There was only one punishment for treason and for the magnitude of Lord Frey's offence, there was no argument of what his' would be.

Jon surveyed the crowd, that was watching him intently. The Tyrells, as well as Lord Royce, were studying him curiously and he could catch a hint of impress and approval in their gaze. The rest of the crowd watched him with a mix of respect and interest for their king. Finally, he turned back to Lord Frey who was shaking like a leaf.

"Your guilt is as plain as day, Lord Walder Frey." Jon judged, his low voice echoing against the wall. "Treason is the highest of crimes, and for that, you shall face the sword."

Jon raised his voice over the man's pleas of mercy, "Take Lord Frey outside." He then called out to his sister, without glancing down at her. He kept his eyes fixed on the traitor, "Arya, bring me my sword."

Arya bowed low before hurrying out the hall to retrieve Jon's sword. Jon watched as the guards in the room hauled a pleading Lord Frey out of the room followed by the rest of the spectators. Jon was the last to exit the room.

By the time Jon reached the courtyard, Lord Frey was already on his knees, his neck bent down above the executioner's block. Arya swiftly came to Jon's side and handed him Longclaw. Jon believed it was fitting to carry out the act with it. The offence had been against House Stark so he would execute the punishment with a Northern sword. He would carry it out the Northern way.

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

The crowd watched quietly as Jon went and stood above Lord Frey. He gripped Longclaw tight and he could feel his blood crying for justice. He lifted Longclaw, "Any last words, my lord?"

"Mercy, my king. Mercy, please." Lord Frey cried out. Jon paused for a moment before letting Longclaw fall. Blood spurted out of Lord Frey's neck where his head had once been. Jon looked up and exhaled. The blood through his veins still roaring.

Margaery climbed the northern battlements of the Twins. She pulled her woollen cloak tightly around her to prevail against the cold as she pondered over the events of the day.

Today Margaery and her family witnessed a whole new side of their melancholic King. He had swiftly and cleverly cornered Lord Frey and asserted his guilt before them all, and then proceeded to carry out justice himself. Margaery shivered as she remembered the hard face her betrothed wore as he had swung his greatsword. It made her admire him at the same time. He would make for a strong and just king. She was thrilled to become his queen.

However, the king remained a puzzle for her. One that was taking much longer than she liked to solve. Jon acted, more or less, indifferent towards Margaery. He did not outright ignore her and she doubted that he was entirely immune to her charms but he wasn't as enamoured with her as she would have hoped. They had not even held a proper conversation together yet.

His lack of effort in their relationship was maddening and Margaery had no idea how to provoke his interest. The sweet words she whispered in his ears while he escorted her to dinners in Riverrun hadn't had any significant effect on him. Jon would simply brush off her compliments with a small smile and a humble remark.

She truly wished it was otherwise as she quite liked him. He was as handsome as a husband any woman could ask for. He was kind and noble. A natural warrior and leader. He was king, a good one at that too. He was certainly an improvement from Joffrey and Tommen. He would make a better partner and king than Renly would have ever been capable of.

Frankly, she had not had a warm welcome from the Starks with the exception of Sansa. The king's favourite sibling threatened her and his aunt was wary of her. Starks were difficult people. That was the conclusion Margaery came up with after weeks of silent observation of the ancient Northern family. The Starks of Winterfell were a powerful family that was oblivious to the games the likes of Margaery played. Or maybe they simply refused to partake. It was hard to tell.

Her grandmother had had loads of advice when it came to integrating her with her betrothed's family.

The Starks have remained a loaf from the rest of the kingdoms for centuries. The king may have dragon's blood flowing through his veins, but he is a wolf. A Northern in the heart.

They value honesty and perseverance. They respect strength and honour.

You won't win him over with pretty words and frilly dresses.

Show him glimpses of the true Margaery Tyrell.

Margaery pushed open the door to the rampart and stepped out into the dark night. Cold fresh air washed over and she pulled her cloak impossibly tight over her slender body. She realized it was snowing lightly. The cold was already tormenting her and they were not even North yet.

She caught sight of Jon standing farther off, staring to the North. His eyes were glazed and unseeing. He had lit a small sizzling fire a few feet away from him. She slowly approached him, cautious not to startle him. She thought he looked magnificent starring in the distance with his billowing cloak and Longclaw strapped by his side.

Jon whipped his head around at the sound of her approaching footsteps. His eyes furrowed in confusion when he recognized her. He came forward to meet her.

"Lady Margaery." He breathed out. The air he breathed forming pale clouds of mist. "What are you doing here?"

"Your grace." Margaery curtsied, "You left supper early. Sansa thought I could see if you are alright."

Jon's eyes narrowed at her for a fraction of a second before shaking his head in light amusement. "Of course, Sansa would suggest you." He murmured under his breath. The corners of Margaery's mouth twitched.

He gestured to her to follow her. They walked down the battlements to the fire Jon had lit. The snowing was slowly starting to intensify.

"How do you like the snow?" Jon asked as raised his eyes to the clouds.

"It's breathtakingly beautiful."

Jon glanced at her shivering form and raised an amused eyebrow, "And freezing cold." He finished for her. Margaery smiled sheepishly at him. Jon led her to a crate that had been placed before the warm fire while he stepped around to leaned on the wall of battlement opposite to her. He grabbed a skin of wine from beside her crate in the process. He took a large swing before holding it out to her.

Margaery looked between the skin and Jon. She may look like a perfect lady but she had grown up with three elder brothers. Sometimes they would sit in the gardens of Highgarden and get drunk. She would occasionally join them, not liking to be left out. Her brothers had never minded and Margaery doubted Jon would judge her if she took a sip or two.

She reached out for it and imitated Jon, taking a deep swing of it. The wine warmed her insides and she took another one, dreading to lose the warmth.

"We should reach Winterfell in a week if we leave tomorrow." Jon's hoarse voice sounded out.

Margaery looked up, setting aside the skin. "I heard it's like a home to you, my king."

"It is home."

Margaery watched him carefully as crossed his arms. He had said those words with such passion and conviction that it made her wonder what Winterfell would be like. After all, she was getting married there.

"Tell me about it."

Jon looked taken aback at her request but obliged. She listened as he launched into description of the massive keep of Winterfell and how it was built above hot springs to keep it warm in the winter. He told her of the great hall and the high table upon which his uncle had listened to the petitions of his subjects. He described the towers that his brother had loved to climb and the sparring grounds where he learned to fight with a sword. He talked of the godswood with its heart tree and blood-crying face. It spoke of a pond before it, that was said to never freeze. Not even freeze in the coldest of Winters.

Margaery smiled softly at her betrothed. It was the first real conversation she had with him and the first time she had seen his eyes light up with such passion and anything but melancholy.

"What was your favourite spot, your grace?" Margaery asked curiously after he came to a stop. He looked embarrassed to have gone so far in describing his home, but Margaery did not mind.

He bit his lip as he thought. "It would be the godswoods." He finally said, "It's just.. It's just where I felt I belonged. Even at times at Winterfell when I felt out of place, I never felt like that in the godswood."

Margaery hummed in reply. "We could get married there." She suggested. She knew that the northerners married before a heart tree. She had heard though that they were planning to marry her and Jon in a little sept in Winterfell so that none in the south would question the legitimacy of their marriage. However, Margaery figured, they could marry once more before the Seven if it came to that. She knew Jon would appreciate being wed before his gods.

Jon looked up, "You don't worship the Old gods."

"You don't worship the New." Margaery countered, "I was married twice before the Seven and both those unions were anything but blessed, your grace."

Jon studied Margaery curiously. The dim light of the flames making his eyes almost seem violet. He smiled softly, "I'd like that. Thank you."

Margaery beamed at the progress she was making. "If that is what my king wishes." She inclined her head in deference. Jon chuckled at that.

They lapsed into silence and Jon took the time to observe Margaery. She found it hard not squirm under the scrutiny of his grey eyes. Slowly, the amusement on his handsome face faded to be replaced by sadness. Margaery shivered, and self consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her movement snapped the king out of his train of thought.

He kicked himself off the wall and approached Margaery. He offered his hand for her to help her up from the crate and she accepted.

"Your king wishes that his lady would not freeze to death." He broke the silence, gesturing to Margaery's quivering figure. His voice containing only a tint of his former amusement.

"Go back inside, Lady Margaery. It'll only get colder."

Margaery fought the disappointment that she felt. She was confused by the sudden change in his demeanour. But she knew not to push it. She smiled at him, "Goodnight, my king."

"Goodnight, my lady."

He let go of her hand and Margaery slowly made her way back inside. She was glad of the progress she had been able to make, however, confused as to why Jon closed off. As she opened the door to the warmth inside the castle, her hand continued to tingle. Was it from the bitter cold or her betrothed's warm touch, she could not tell.

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