Jon
The Great Hall began to fill up with Lord, Ladies, Maesters, and various lieutenants. Daenerys was offered a place to sit near the back of the room with her escort. Arya decided to sit with her instead of the head table with Rickon and Bran. Theon sat the furthest away from everyone as he could.
Constant chatter was present while Jon stood in the dead center of the room. He didn't even have time to change out of his cloak or his armor. Even then, he would still keep Longclaw at his side. He couldn't help but feel that there would be a need for it. He felt disappointed that he couldn't keep his personal promise. His visit to the crypts would have to come afterwards.
All the eyes in the room constantly glanced at him over and over. The gaze they had added a mental weight onto Jon, causing him to feel heavy. He still wished he wasn't alone in the middle of the room. If there was any time for Ghost to with him, it would be now. But like usual, he was the lone wolf among others.
Sansa had finally entered the room, followed by Littlefinger, and all of the Lords and Ladies stood up, as was respect to their queen. Littlefinger walked off to the side of the High Table while Sansa took to her seat. Once she had taken her seat, everyone else did the same and silence was all that remained in the Great hall.
Jon's eyes, for an instant, looked over to where Littlefinger was and in that moment, he could see him smirking. It was then that he decided, no matter what the outcome of this trial would be, he would keep his promise to Littlefinger. Jon's hand slowly crept up Longclaw's scabbard and onto the ruby eyed white wolf pommel. His hand tightened as he took another look at Littlefinger.
The odd thing Jon noticed though was that everyone had a look of great irritation on their faces but they weren't looking at him. The only one who looked sorrowful was Rickon.
"Let's get this over with and be done with it." Sansa said.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jon asked.
"It's not what I want, it's what honor demands."
"Honor?" Rickon intruded. "What in seven hells is honorable about this?"
"Rickon, you don't understand-" Sansa said.
"No, I don't! I don't understand any of this! I don't understand any of you!" Rickon seemed to gain the attention of everyone in the Great Hall as he stood up from his seat. "We all made Jon our King, because he's the one to lead against the dead! I wasn't sure about it until I saw them in a vision! I saw the Night King! I saw his army!"
Jon wasn't sure what Rickon was talking about. How and when did he see the Army of the Dead and the White Walkers? The only visions he knew of were Melisandre's visions through flames. Maybe Rickon unintendedly had one of them.
"I saw those eyes, those cold blue eyes, looking right at me. The Night King shattered my sword even though I wasn't really there. I saw the army stretching out to the horizon and that made me realize the truth. We can't beat them. The North can't beat them. We are going to fucking die if we fight them! Jon knew that already and went south to get help! And you're all refusing it because of what? There's no honor to any of this. It's all just your pride! You can't accept the truth that we can't do this alone! You know what I say to all of you? Fuck your pride!" Even with Rickon's ranting, the lords and ladies remained silent but a few of them had shameful looks. "Jon was the one to raise the army to fight against the Boltons! Some of you here fought for him while the rest of cowered away in your castles!"
"Rickon!" Sansa shouted. He looked at her afraid. His words were harsh, but they were true. "You're absolutely right, which is why we are having this trial."
"But he's our brother."
"I know, and I know Jon never to break a promise either. This trial is to make sure he keeps that promise. Now sit down." Sansa asked but it was almost an order.
Rickon looked over to Jon, obviously worried.
Jon just smiled at him and nodded. Rickon looked like he was on the verge of tears as he sat back down in his seat. Jon couldn't help but feel proud of Rickon. What he did was disrespectful, but he showed authority, and integrity, and faced everything head on. He would make a good lord someday.
Sansa resumed the trial, determined that nothing would stop it. "You stand here accused of treason, conspiracy, and murder."
'Murder? Who did I murder?' Jon became puzzled, wondering if this was some lie Sansa was told. No, that wasn't like her. Something else was going on.
"How do answer these charges," her gaze turned from Jon to someone else, "Lord Baelish?"
Jon couldn't hold back a smile that formed on his face as he looked at Sansa. He couldn't believe what she just did. Rickon looked absolutely surprised. Jon then looked over to Lord Baelish who looked as if he was experiencing defeat for the first time. "The Queen asked you a question," Jon told him.
Lord Baelish regained his posture, trying to act casual. "Your grace, forgive me, but I'm a bit confused."
Sansa didn't shift her mood at Littlefinger. "Which charges confuse you? Let's start with the simplest one. You murdered our aunt, Lysa Aryn. You pushed her through the moon door and watched her fall. Do you deny it?"
Jon kept his hand around Longclaw's pommel as he walked from the center of the room up to the High Table. "I did it to protect you." Lord Baelish stated.
"You did it to take power in the Vale. Earlier you conspired to murder Jon Aryn. You gave Lysa Tears of Lys to poison him. Do you deny it?" Her tone was becoming more fierce with every word, almost like a wolf growling .
Lord Baelish continued to act sly as he stepped forward to explain himself. "Whatever your aunt might've told you, she was a troubled woman. She imagined enemies everywhere."
"You had our aunt Lysa send a letter to our mother telling her it was the Lannisters who murdered Jon Aryn when it was you. The conflict between the Starks and the Lannisters, it was you who started it. Do you deny it?" Sansa's tone grew more impatient the more Littlefinger gave excuses rather than a straight answer.
"I know of no such letter," he obviously lied. Many of the Northmen in the room were clearly becoming eager for a reason to draw swords at Littlefinger
"You attempted to conspire with Robett Glover, Yohn Royce, Cley Cerwyn, Ned Umber, and Wyman Manderly to overthrow Jon Snow and banish him back to the Wall. Do you deny it?"
Lord Baelish looked around at the lords she named, looking betrayed. Lord Glover stood up, smirking at Littlefinger. "Did you honestly expect us to trust you?"
"And yet you helped her usurp the Throne of the North all the same." Lord Baelish looked like he had the upper hand.
Jon decided to contribute a bit to this feud. "She usurped nothing," he said to all of them. Littlefinger turned around, looking confused at Jon. "I did leave her in charge after all." He of course never meant that she would be Queen, but it was a technicality was was willing to look past.
"You conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray our father Ned Stark." Sansa continued. "Thanks to your treachery he was imprisoned and later executed on false charges of treason. Do you deny it?"
"I deny it!" Littlefinger exclaimed. He faced every lord as he desperately tried to justify himself. "None of you were there to see what happened! None of you knows the truth!"
"You held a knife to his throat," Bran spoke. Littlefinger turned his head to face him and was clearly shocked. "You said, 'I did warn you not to trust me.'"
Jon was very curious to know how his family came by this information. He didn't know much of what happened when the Stark Household was betrayed and butchered in King's Landing. But neither should Bran.
Arya stood up from her seat next to Daenerys and walked slowly up to Littlefinger. "You told our mother that this knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister." She unsheathed a Valyrian steel dagger that Jon was now just noticing. He was surprised that she was able to get a hold of something like that. Arya held up the dagger as if inspecting it and showing it for all to see. "But that was another one of your lies, it was yours."
Littlefinger approached the table, heading directly for Sansa, but Jon immediately drew Longclaw and held it up to block his path. Littlefinger took a few steps back, holding his hand out in front of the sword. "Your grace, I've known you since you were a little girl, I've protected you."
"Protected me?" Sansa questioned. "By selling me to the Boltons?"
Littlefinger tried to ignore her counter. "If we could only speak alone, I can explain everything."
Sansa sat back in her chair, her tone calmer and composed. "Sometimes when I'm trying to understand a person's motives, I play a little game, I assume the worst" Jon didn't know what she was talking about, but Littlefinger looked like he instantly regretted something. "What's the worst reason you have for turning me against my family? That's what you do, that's what you've always done. Turn family against family, turn sibling against sibling, that's what you did to our mother and aunt Lysa and that's what you tried to do with me and Jon."
"Sansa please," he begged.
"I'm a slow learner. It's true, but I learn."
"Give me a chance to defend myself, I deserve that," he demanded. Sansa just ignored him, clearly tired of what he had to say. Littlefinger turned around and approached Lord Royce and the Knights of the Vale that accompanied him in the Great Hall. "I am Lord Protector of the Vale and I command you to escort me safely back to the Eyrie."
"I think not," Lord Royce sternly told him.
There was the softest of laughter amongst the lords and ladies as Littlefinger turned back to the Stark children and fell on his knees. "Sansa, I beg you! I've loved your mother since the time I was a boy!"
"And yet, you betrayed her," Sansa countered.
"I loved you, more than anyone." His words sounded more desperate than sly. Jon's grip tightened around the handle of his sword.
"And yet, you betrayed me." Sansa stood up, looking down on the feeble lord. "When you brought me back to Winterfell, you told me there's no justice in the world, not unless we make it. Thank you for all your many lessons, Lord Baelish. I will never forget them, but it's time for Jon to keep his promise to you." Sansa turned her head to Jon and nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.
Jon stepped forward to Littlefinger and adjusted his grip on Longclaw.
"Sansa-"
Longclaw's edge cut clean across his throat, blood pouring out of the cut like a fountain, before anymore vile things could come from his mouth. Jon looked at the part of the blade that made the cut and was amazed at the clean kill. He sheathed his sword as Littlefinger grabbed at his wound, still trying to talk his way out of things but only able to gag.
"I… I… need…" Littlefinger gagged before he fell to the ground, motionless, and dead.
Jon let out a large exhale as he turned around to Sansa as she smiled at him. "I thought you could use a welcome home gift." She said, earning a laugh from Jon.
"I think everyone here considers it a gift." He told her as many of the lords banged on their tables, chuckling.
"It was a ploy?" Rickon asked. He exhaled and nearly fell into his seat. "I honestly thought you were turning into another him."
Sansa stood up from her seat and moved aside from it. "The seat is yours, your grace." She said, offering the chair of the High Table to Jon. He looked at it for a moment before wearing an amused smile.
"Let's get the floor clean of the dead rat first." He turned to face all of the men and women present in the Great Hall. "We'll reconvene in an hour." As the Lords and Ladies dispersed, Jon spotted Lyanna Mormont. "Lady Mormont," he called out. She turned to look at him, curious. "I'd like a moment with you and Ser Jorah outside please." She looked over at her cousin who sat next to Daenerys. Her eyes had a deathly gaze to them.
Ser Jorah excused himself from his Queen and joined the two of them outside in the courtyard. There was snow falling lightly. The people were currently at a bit of a break in their work given the tension that was present.
"Your grace," Lady Mormont said, "please excuse my blunt words but why in any hell would you allow him back into the North? He's disgraced our family and brought shame upon the entire North. I don't find his role as guard to Daenerys Targaryen excuse enough."
"Aye, I did." Jorah confirmed. "I've done many things I regret, I'd change them if I could, but all I can do now is try to be better than who I was."
"Is that supposed to even make me think of forgiving you? You might be my kin, but I'd have you suffer the same fate I'd have Ramsay Bolton suffered if I had the chance." She looked up to Jon, "but if the King trusts you, then I will tolerate you."
Ser Jorah looked intimidated of the young girl before him. He looked over to Jon, amazed. "You weren't lying."
Jon chuckled at that. "Thank you for your understanding, my lady. But now that I have both of you together, I thought it might be proper." He undid his belt that held his sword. "Lord Commander Jeor gave me this sword at Castle Black. He changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf, but it's still Longclaw." He wrapped the belt around the scabbard and held it out to Jorah.
The Bear Knight carefully took the sword in his hands and reminisced its feel. Even Lady Mormont looked stunned when she realized what the sword was.
"Lord Commander Mormont thought you'd never come back to Westeros, but you are back and it's been in your family for centuries. It's not right for me to have it anymore."
Jorah pulled the blade out of the scabbard and held it closely, gazing upon the pattern of rippled stars the Valyrian steel made. "He gave it to you?" He asked as if Jon was giving up his inheritance.
"I'm not his son." Ser Jorah looked down to Lady Mormont and this would probably be the only time she didn't look angry at him. He sighed as he sheathed the sword back into his scabbard and looked at the pommel before turning his head and looking behind Jon at something and then back to him.
"When I was found selling slaves, I not only brought shame to my house, but I broke my father's heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword." He looked down to Lady Mormont again, as if asking for her approval for something. She gestured her head at Jon, the tiniest of smiles could be seen in the corner of her lips. Jorah held the sword back to Jon. "It's yours," he told him. "May it serve you well," Jorah eyes to something behind Jon before he leaned in and whispered to him, "and your children after you."
"Ser Jorah," Daenerys said as she walked up from behind Jon. "I hope there's nothing wrong."
"Not at all, your Grace." Jorah told her.
"Jon, if you're done, your sister Sansa said she would like a word with us."
"Jorah," Lady Mormont said, "I'd like to know of what you've been doing ever since you ran away from your punishment."
"I dare not defy the Lady of my House." He told her as they walked off.
Jon accompanied Daenerys back inside and they were heading for Sansa's solar. As Jon finally strapped Longclaw back to his hip, Daenerys inquired about Rickon. "I never thought a boy so young could face something like that."
"He's a Northman, we're born tough."
"What was that he said about seeing the Night King and his army?"
"I don't know, he said he had a vision of it, but I'm still warming up to knowing my family after I haven't seen them in years." He took her hand and his and walked with her away from the courtyard and inside the castle to meet with the other Starks.
As they approached the doors to the room, Sansa had left it open for them to enter freely. When they walked inside, Jon and Daenerys were joined by Sansa, Bran, Arya, Rickon, and Sam.
"Your grace," Sansa said as she stood up from her chair and approached the Dragon Queen. "I'd like to ask your forgiveness for my attitude towards you when you arrived. I was merely trying to keep appearances and couldn't allow Lord Baelish to suspect anything."
"I understand, I've had my share of keeping false appearances." Daenerys smiled at Sansa and she smiled back, bowing her head.
"Bran's told me that you know Jon is Rhaegar and Lyanna's bastard." Sansa asked.
"I do," Daenerys confirmed.
"He's not," Arya told them.
Sansa was the only Stark to look confused. "You were there with us when Bran said it."
"I meant that he's not a bastard." She looked over to Sam and nodded at him. He carried a book at his side as he stepped forward to Jon.
"Jon, while I was at the Citadel, Gilly and I found something that changes everything." He opened the book and flipped through the pages until he reached a passage and showed it to him. "This is the diary of High Septon Maynard. Before Robert's Rebellion, he met with Rhaegar and annulled his marriage to Elia Martell before he wed him and Lyanna in a secret ceremony in Dorne."
"What?" Jon asked, growing pale.
"You're not a bastard, you never were. You're the true heir to the Iron Throne." Sam said.
Daenerys was just as shocked as Jon was. No one said anything, they just let the silence surrounding them. Jon turned around and walked out of the room without saying a word. "Jon!" Sam called out.
Jon didn't listen to any of them, he just left them there. As Jon walked throughout Winterfell, he grew angry and irritated. 'Fucking hells!' he kept thinking. He found his way into the Godswood where Ygris and Lyarras where curled up together, resting. They looked up at him when they noticed him walking to the weirwood. Jon leaned up against the tree, cursing at anything he could. All his life, he was trying to figure out who he was and who he was going to be, but ever since he first left Winterfell the answers kept changing over and over for him. "Can't I just be a bastard?"
"Gah!" Jon turned his head and saw Daenerys on the ground, clutching at the wound in her leg. She must've walked all the way by herself. Jon rushed over to her and knelt down beside her.
"Seven hells, you can't walk by yourself yet!"
"Why'd you leave?" She asked, forgetting her pain and looking right at him.
"What was I supposed to say?"
"Something at least."
"Like what, I'm the rightful King? I don't want a damn throne!" Jon help her up as she was ready to stand. "I just… I don't want any of this, the fighting, the thrones. I just want to live a good life without people telling me what I am, I want to be my own person!" Jon felt exhausted and confused.
"Sometimes we can't do what we want, we have to do what is needed."
"You're saying that I'm needed to be on the throne instead of you?" He shook his at her, "I'm not taking the Iron Throne from you."
"Then don't take it from me, take it with me." Daenerys began to look worried and sad. "You've never felt you belonged anywhere in your life, neither have I until I met you. I knew my place was in Westeros, but as far as who would be with me, I never knew that. Not until I was shivering in your arms in damn cell."
"Daenerys-"
"Why did you protect me from the wildfire? Because of honor? To save a life? Tell me why Jon."
Jon couldn't seem to form any words. He couldn't bring himself to speak. He wanted to but he couldn't. Daenerys began to show tears forming in her eyes as the silence dragged on. He couldn't bear to watch her be sad, so he tried to show her why instead. He cupped his hands on her cheeks and the next thing he knew, his lips met with hers. Everything became warm in a sudden instant and a great fire within him burst forth. 'Because I love you.' He pulled away for just a moment to look at her eyes, as if to see if she heard what he was trying to say. The were so beautiful in the light of white snow, like pearlescent gems. She pulled him back to her and they kissed again, like it was the air they needed to breathe. His hands went from her cheeks to her back as she ran her bare fingers through his hair.
When they parted their lips, they touched their foreheads together, feeling the warmth they had to give to each other. "Jon," Daenerys whispered, "I want you beside me when we win the wars to come."
"Are you asking to marry me?" He whispered back.
She looked at him with a smile. "I thought I'd leave that to you."
Jon smiled back as he looked into her eyes again. "Daenerys, will you be mine?"
Before she could answer, Lyarras screeched at them, drawing their attention to an audience of Starks and dragons. Arya was the only smirking at them, looking satisfied. Jon and Daenerys parted from each other as they both were at a loss for words.
Jon offered his arm to Daenerys to hold onto and she gladly took it. As the two of them approached the others, Arya broke the silence. "So what's your answer to him?"
"You could hear us whispering from all the way over here?" Jon asked.
"It's a skill I learned in Braavos."
"Who taught you that?"
"No one." She said, still smirking. "So what's your answer?"
"Answer to what?" Sansa asked, oblivious.
Daenerys looked at Jon, who was wanting to know the answer himself, before looking back to Arya. "My answer is yes."
