Within the Red Keep…

The harvest moon shone through the windows of the Great Hall, bathing the assemblage in orange light. Excited voices peppered the air as everyone waited to see their King render his final judgment on Aeron and Yara Greyjoy. But while the majority of those in attendance knew the proceedings were meant to ensure the remaining members of House Greyjoy received a just sentence, a select few knew they would serve as a testament to the Young Stag overcoming his inner demons. None more so than the Hand of the King. Seated alongside the rest of the Small Council with bony fingers steepled beneath his chin, Tywin watched Daveth grip the pommel of one of the swords that made up the Iron Throne. The Old Lion had stood at his grandson's side throughout the trial, whispering suggestions into his ear, warning him when his tempers threatened to flare, offering counsel when it looked like he needed it most.

"The court will come to order in the matter of the Crown versus Aeron of House Greyjoy and Yara of House Greyjoy," the royal steward announced. "All rise in the presence of Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign."

"Long may he reign."

Tywin rose to his feet, cleared his throat with a sharp yet regal cough, and waited for the hall to grow silent. When the last voice died down, he began to speak, replacing the image of a man concerned for his house's survival with that of a lord whose visage made his family's most bitter enemies shake in their boots.

"Your Grace, my lords and ladies, the events that took place both in the Neck and along our western shores left an indelible mark on the kingdoms. You have heard testimony from those who survived the Second Greyjoy Rebellion and seen evidence of the atrocities House Greyjoy inflicted on their fellow men. You have also heard testimony from those who survived the First Rebellion but lost their homes, their friends, and their families to an ambitious tyrant whose determination to revive the Old Ways destroyed one of the Great Houses of Westeros. Tonight, you will bear witness as the Crown passes sentence on the last of the Greyjoys."

The bronze and wood doors swung open, admitting Aeron and Yara, each flanked by two members of the City Watch, entrance. Chains clanked as they approached the dais and were thrown to their knees. Eyes of all colors stared at them, cold and void of any mercy.

"I submit to the Crown," Tywin continued, "Aeron Greyjoy, a Drowned Man loyal to his brother, the late King Balon. Although he took no part in the battle, he still remained wanted after his escape from captivity during the first uprising. He does not contest this. Speculations also suggest Aeron knew of his brother's plot long before Victarion Greyjoy, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, seized Moat Cailin. He only gives us his word that he knew otherwise."

"But knowingly or not, the crimes of one man condemned his own brethren to death. And the idleness of others only served to accelerate the outcome. Such crimes cannot be overlooked. Does the accused have anything to say in his defense?"

"The Drowned God proclaimed me His prophet," Aeron said, his gaze fixed on Daveth. "He Who Dwells Beneath the Wave raised up Balon of House Greyjoy only to watch as he was struck down by a godless boy—"

"Will you offer nothing in your defense?" Tywin demanded.

Aeron shook his head. "Fate had shown itself and gave its favor to the victor when the Oathkeeper came to our shores once more," he said. "But that does not mean the end of us or our way of life. What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. Render your judgment and bring down your blade, for you have won nothing in the end."

Tywin and Daveth locked eyes with each other, the former nodding his head and gesturing towards the Drowned Man. After a moment's silence, the King spoke.

"War is an ugly business," he said, "but it is also a necessary one. Conflict at times forces us to make rather difficult decisions, but justice demands its due in the end. Aeron Greyjoy, for the crimes your house has committed against the realm, you are hereby sentenced to death. Ser Ilyn, take him to the chopping block."

With a low growl, the royal executioner seized the Drowned Man by the arm and dragged him towards the doors. Tywin resumed his seat while Oberyn, who Daveth had appointed to act as a royal judge, stood and acknowledged the court before facing the second prisoner of war.

"In my opinion, there shouldn't be a reminder for this one," the Red Viper said. "Her capture on the battlefield couldn't have been more artful. But for the sake of formality, I submit to the Crown Yara Greyjoy, daughter of the Kraken King and Princess of Pyke. Although her titles mean nothing these days now that the Iron Islands are gone and all."

Yara spat on the floor, provoking gasps and jeers from the courtiers. Tywin leaned towards Daveth's ear.

"Despite her rather aggressive tone, Your Grace," he said in a low voice, "the prisoner has surprisingly acknowledged your authority."

The Young Stag raised his hand, causing silence to fall once more, before regarding Yara with a look colder than the North's icy winds. "You stand accused of piracy, reaving, pillaging, murder, and treason. How do you answer the charges?"

"Spare me the theatrics, Oathkeeper," Yara sneered. "We both know this trial is a farce."

"Then I hope you are lucid enough to understand the consequences of your actions—"

"You want me to apologize, is that it? Well, I won't. We are Ironborn. We took what we could take to survive. Everything I did, I did for my House, my family, and my people. I was helping them. Then you had to destroy our home."

"And whose fault was that?" Daveth said, his voice rising. "Your father's actions started the rebellion, not mine."

Yara's eyes took on a feral quality. "The only reason you attacked the Iron Islands was so you could make an example out of us. So you could let your real enemy know you still remembered him. You know who I'm talking about, don't you?"

"I know very well who you're referring to." He was determined to prevent images of Euron filling his head. "Need I remind you, however, that Euron Greyjoy is not the one standing trial. You are. And because you had a role in the Second Rebellion, you will answer for a great deal."

"You mean the North?" Yara scoffed. "Had I known Father would continue throwing our lives away, I would have ousted him a lot sooner."

"It sounds like you had a last minute change of heart, Princess," Oberyn chimed in. "Why?"

"I knew the war was over and done the moment we lost the mainland. And yes, I admit I knew my father was madder than ol' Mad King Aerys. But I stayed because I thought I had a chance to get my brother back. I thought I could free him, take him with me, leave the Iron Islands, start a new life in Essos. The Oathkeeper denied me that chance."

"There were other paths you could have taken," Daveth said, cutting Oberyn off before he could continue, "instead of paying the iron price—"

"Those would have been too much."

"Well, I am truly sorry to disappoint you, Princess, but the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms will be respected. From now on, there will be no more reaving and raiding. The Old Ways are done."

"You can't do that. The Old Ways were our only way of life."

"Not anymore."

The assemblage watched in stunned silence as Tywin placed a hand on the Oathkeeper's shoulder and started whispering into his ear. They dared not speak, but all wondered what the Old Lion could possibly say to calm his grandson down. Finally, Daveth faced Yara once more.

"Does the accused have anything else to say in her defense?" he asked.

"I'm not offering any sort of defense. My fate doesn't really matter at this point, does it? You've made your decision already. I'm not going to waste my breath anymore."

Daveth considered the evidence before him. On the one hand, Yara acknowledged her role in the uprising. On the other, she admitted why she continued fighting when she knew the ironborn's cause was lost. He stood and looked at the former Princess of Pyke, ready to render his verdict.

"Whatever your reasons may or may not have been, you've still wronged a good many people. And there is one group of people you have wronged more than any other. The Crown could use more friends in the North. So we'll barter you there," he stated. "Yara Greyjoy, I give you to our allies in Deepwood Motte. House Glover will decide your fate."

"Either way, it's a death sentence," Yara said. "The northerners always did enjoy carrying it out themselves personally."

And with that, she made her way out of the room, the City Watchmen following close behind. Daveth watched her leave, knowing deep down he would not see the last of her. She would come back at some point, stronger than before, but they would be ready when she did.

"The trial of Aeron of House Greyjoy and Yara of House Greyjoy is now concluded," the royal steward announced. "Clear the court!"

Soon as the lords and ladies got up from their seats to leave, Daveth Baratheon descended the steps of the Iron Throne with his fellow councilors in tow.

"W-was that truly wise, Your Grace?" asked Grand Maester Pycelle. "The-the Greyjoy lass could one day prove a-a threat."

"I'll deal with that later, Pycelle," he dismissed. "For now, I ask to be left alone for a while. I have some… unfinished business to take care of."

The other royal councilors stood in their tracks, ceasing their movements as they watched the Young Stag wander off on his own—accompanied by his Kingsguard knights Barristan and Lucius. Tywin observed Daveth's posture before recognizing it as steady and unrelenting; the Old Lion did indeed notice several changes in the youth's behavior and mindset. If anything, Daveth's stride seemed to be carrying a sense of purpose and determination.

'And perhaps… write some letters,' the Young Stag murmured quietly.

Near the Red Keep's dungeon's second level…

Theon Greyjoy sat in the room, his hands still tied by rope restraints and unable to go anywhere—not with everyone present. Before him stood Sansa Stark, Catelyn Stark, Arya Stark and the two women Kingsguard Brienne of Tarth and Ariyana Dayne. Sansa had been pressing Theon for quite some time into accepting the deal she had proposed to her husband earlier, yet Theon looked more guilt-ridden the more time progressed.

"He's going to have me killed," he complained.

Arya shook her head. "Even he did, I'd never allow him to hurt you. We've known you for years!" she protested.

"Arya!" Sansa chimed in. "Theon, listen to me. I worked hard these last few days to convince His Grace to spare your life if you agree to meet his terms. Daveth will be merciful. I know it."

Theon looked up at her. "You and Robb have far more faith in me."

"Robb thinks of you as a brother," Catelyn reassured him. "We'll vouch for you."

*KNOCK!*

*KNOCK!*

The Stark women turned towards the door; before Brienne could reach to grab the handle, the door swung open—revealing King Daveth himself. All stood in attendance with the exception of Theon, who dared not risk moving a muscle.

"Your Grace," Ariyana lowered her head.

"Your Grace," Brienne lowered her head.

Daveth waved them off. "Leave us," he instructed.

Brienne and Ariyana left the room, assuming duty watch outside. One to keep any uninvited dignitaries outside from coming in; and the other to respond to any sort of disturbance coming from inside. Daveth looked over his shoulder before returning his gaze to Theon, Sansa, Arya and Catelyn.

"All right, let's get this over with."

Arya stepped forward. "Don't even think about killing him!" she challenged him.

"Arya!" Sansa and Catelyn exclaimed.

Daveth eyed the little she-wolf. 'She certainly doesn't lack for spirit and is rather straight-forward. Wolf's blood indeed,' he thought. "Your uncle Aeron has been sentenced to death, Theon. Ser Ilyn is carrying out the execution even as we speak."

Theon felt his stomach turn in knots and a chill crawl throughout his body. "And my sister?" he asked. "What about Yara?"

"She'll be transferred to Deepwood Motte," the Young Stag answered. "Bit of karma, actually. Your sister did attack House Glover's lands, now they'll decide her fate."

"But they'll kill her!"

"If Robett Glover wants her head in retribution for the atrocities the ironborn committed against Deepwood Motte and House Glover, then he'll have it."

Theon frowned, hoping that Yara would at least be shown mercy – but alas to no avail. "Then… what'll happen to me now?" he asked. "The Iron Islands are gone, my home is gone, my family is gone… and with Yara being sent away, I'm the only one left."

Daveth shook his head. "Not technically the last, but that's not why I'm here." He approached his captive, lifting his chin up to meet him at eye-level. "You understand the request Queen Sansa's asked of you?"

Theon nodded slowly. "She wants me to bend the knee, hoping you'd spare me. Gave me a choice just like my father did."

"And for that you feel… conflicted?" he asked.

Theon looked at the Stark women before looking away in shame. "I…"

"Have you told them what happened back at Winterfell?" he asked again. "About the boys? Bran? Rickon?"

Sansa, Arya and Catelyn looked at the two men suspiciously.

"Theon," Catelyn approached him, "tell me you didn't do what I think you—"

"I didn't do anything to them, my lady! I swear!" Theon protested. "I just…"

Daveth seized his chance. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling Lady Stark exactly what you just told me and Robb after we took back Moat Cailin, hmm?"

Theon looked back at the Starks again, guilt and shame apparent on his face. Luckily for him, they appeared to have noticed.

"Theon," Sansa asked, "what happened with our brothers?"

"Are Bran and Rickon okay?" pressed Arya.

"They…" the Greyjoy begun, a lump formed in his throat before gulping. "Some crannogmen from the Neck came up, asking for Bran to seek out some mythical figure. A, uh, Three-Eyed Raven or something?"

Daveth raised an eyebrow. "And just who or what is this so-called Three-Eyed Raven?" he turned to his wife. "Sansa, have you ever heard him?" he asked.

Sansa shook her head. "No, my husband. Not once."

"And you just sent them away?" Catelyn chastised Theon, her maternal instincts gradually rising. "They're only boys, Theon! My sons! How are they supposed to fend for themselves out there?"

Theon opened his mouth to speak, but Daveth cut him off.

"Because if he didn't, then Locke and Roose Bolton's bastard son Ramsay would have held them hostage when they came strolling into Winterfell," the Young Stag finished. "Isn't that right, Theon?"

Theon looked back and forth, before slowly nodding his head. "Yes."

Sansa, Arya and Catelyn exchanged glances between each other; the three women trading glances between each other – thinking of possible plans on how to retrieve Bran and Rickon from what appeared to be an aimless journey for someone or something they had never even heard of. Even with the crannogmen Jojen and Meera Reed protecting them and Robb Stark already assembling a search-and-rescue party, they knew they would still need assistance. Daveth looked at them and back at Theon.

"You do realize that if I let you live, you'll be living a much harsher life."

"My life's been hard since I came to Winterfell as… as a ward," he answered. "I regretted some things I've done. I always wanted to do the right thing. Be the right kind of person. My father didn't trust me. Thought I was a Stark. I never knew what that meant. I made a choice, and I… I don't…"

"Don't what?"

"It…" Theon hesitated for a brief moment, he appeared close to tears. "It always seemed like there was like a difficult choice I had to make. Stark or Greyjoy."

Daveth kept a hard gaze on Theon. "Ned Stark was more of a father to you than yours ever was."

Theon nodded. "I know. He was. My real father died here in the capital after the Battle of Blackwater Bay last year, because he believed he did the right thing by sacrificing himself for what was the most important. I regret… I regret that I wasn't able to tell him how grateful I was to him for teaching me what family actually meant."

The Young Stag's intensity lessened and broke his gaze, looking at the floor as memories of his time with the deceased Lord Eddard Stark—Warden of the North, Hand of the King… and father-in-law. Daveth remembered how close he was with his own father King Robert I Baratheon, and how instrumental of a role he played in arranging his marriage with Sansa. To listen to Theon's inner conflict of identity was a similar one… Baratheon or Lannister? In the end, Lord Jon Arryn broke down the barrier with a simple explanation. One that Daveth himself took to heart. Shaking his head, Daveth unsheathed a hidden dagger from his sleeve—surprising all in attendance.

"No, Daveth! Wait! Don't!" they shouted.

Theon Greyjoy quickly shut his eyes tight, expecting whatever fate he believed to be in store for him. Brienne and Ariyana rushed back inside upon hearing the shouts, only to see what surprise awaited them.

*RIP!*

Theon slowly opened his eyes and felt the restraints around his arms fall to the floor, giving him freedom of movement. He looked at the rope falling to the floor before looking back up at Daveth in confusion. To his surprise, the Young Stag had cut off his restraints.

"Why?" he asked bewildered.

Daveth shook his head. "You never had to choose between two identities. You can be both a Greyjoy and a Stark; not because you have to, Theon, but if you choose to be. I don't know if I'll ever forgive House Greyjoy for what they've done to me in the past, I do know now that it is not fair to blame the son for the sins of the father. It's… something I had to learn the hard way, after Moat Cailin."

For a moment, Theon could hardly speak.

"For Robb's sake," he continued, "for my wife Sansa's sake… Bend the knee, swear me an oath of fealty and vow that from this day forward your father's evil and the Old Way of paying the iron price died with him. Promise me that you will build a new House Greyjoy in service to the Starks of Winterfell. Swear to me that you will uphold this vow, and I swear in the light of the Seven I will give your family one more chance at redemption."

Theon felt himself tremble, taking glances at the Stark women. Arya and Catelyn remained indifferent, but somewhat hopeful. Sansa, meanwhile, nodded her head as if to beg Theon to accept the deal. Briefly lowering his head, Theon got down to one knee.

"I… I swear," he proclaimed. "By the Old Gods and the New, by all the Gods… I pledge myself to House Stark. My sword is theirs, from this day until my last day. This I swear."

Sansa smiled, happy with the offer at the chance of redemption being accepted. She rubbed her pregnant belly as if to sooth the unborn baby inside her. Daveth, meanwhile, raised his hand up to Theon.

'Don't make me regret doing this,' he thought. "In three days' time, you will depart with Lady Stark for White Harbor and assist Robb Stark in finding Bran and Rickon and see them returned safely to Winterfell. He'll be expecting you. Do not squander this nor mistake my generosity for weakness. Understood?"

Theon nodded. "I understand."

Daveth nodded, looking at Sansa who smiled at him in approval. "Then I perhaps retire to my chambers. Sansa, would you walk with me?"

Sansa nodded. "Of course, my King." As she hooked Daveth's arm, she looked back at her mother and sister. "Mother, Arya… could you give my regards to Robb? Tell him His Grace has heeded his counsel."

Both didn't even get a chance to reply as the King and Queen left to their chambers. Theon, meanwhile, his mind still reeling at being given a second chance—to redeem and rebuild House Greyjoy on the mainland—slowly began packing his belongings and was rather eager to get back into the fray, yet his mind still wandered around the well-being of his sister Yara. Something in his gut told Theon that he'd see her again at some point, but he'd have to learn how to practice restraint… any misstep could ultimately cost him.

'Wait for me, Yara. I'll make our family—a new Greyjoy line—something to be proud of. The iron price? We're done with all that now.'

In the royal bedchamber…

Daveth and Sansa sat on the bed, each of them having had a long, trying day. Days of prepping for the trial, rendering judgment… It was a stressful moment that was lifted off their shoulders and each of them were given a moment of reprieve. Sansa unveiled her sewing needles, stopping only to massage her belly, looked over to see her husband at his desk—pulling out a piece of quill and paper.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Daveth dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Keeping a promise," he answered. "I gave Myrcella my word that I'd write her letters. Between the two wars we faced, I… hadn't had enough time to send my sister some. Missed her last nameday too. Might to think of what to send to Sunspear and arrange a possible visit as well…"

Sansa smiled. "I'm sure that whatever you buy for her, Myrcella will love it. She adores her big brother."

"Been a while since I last heard that," the Young Stag found his wife's teasing amusing. "Things haven't really been the same without her here."

"I can imagine. Princess Myrcella sent you dozens of letters while you were away."

"What did she say?"

"She asked if whether or not you were okay, how she's been doing… Myrcella was mostly worried about you. She believes you've been under a lot of stress."

Daveth stopped writing, frowning at his wife's words. "Then… then I take it she heard about Renly and Balon Greyjoy?"

Sansa nodded. "She did. I've been writing to her while you were away, hoping to set her mind at ease. Seemed a bit more at ease once she learned you keep your word."

'All this time, so far away not knowing whether I'd see her again… and still she worries,' the Young Stag thought deeply. 'Cella…'

Sansa placed her hand gently on Daveth's. "Dearest?" she asked slightly concerned.

Daveth met his wife's eyes, shaking his head and sighed. "I almost lost myself."

"What do you mean?"

"When I raised my armies and rode off to battle, all I could think of was a chance to pay the ironborn back after what they did to me. Never told anyone what happened at Lannisport eleven years ago, but they knew. I was… not myself after that. I was angry. I wanted revenge. Kept everything suppressed, private and locked away. And I sent 24,000 men to their graves because of it."

"Daveth…"

"Sansa, my own anger blinded me and my men paid the price for it. I know I'm better than this. The thought of slipping, losing control… it sickens me. That's not the kind of legacy I want to leave for our children."

Sansa frowned, worried. Until Daveth turned his hand over to hold hers, interlocking their fingers with one another.

"But I also learned an important lesson that day," he mentioned.

"What was it?" she asked.

Daveth let out a small smile. "That I was never alone to begin with," he answered. "It was never about what happened in the past or what may happen in the future, but rather we should instead focus on the here and now. It was something Jon Arryn taught me when I was a child; a lesson I had almost forgotten. Now that the war's over, I can put some distance between myself and everything that's happened."

Sansa raised their locked hands up, kissing Daveth's knuckles. "I'm not sure if this means something, but I like who you are now. What you've told me, it shows that you are the kind of King this country so desperately needs."

Daveth lifted his head in surprise. "Even after I…?"

Sansa cupped her husband's cheek. "Daveth, listen to me. You are my husband. I love you. I care about you. We're expecting our first child together. Whatever mistakes may or may not have happened, you've done nothing to change that. To me, you're still the same Daveth Baratheon I met and fell in love with two years ago."

Daveth felt he couldn't get the words out of his mouth to respond, uncertain as to what to say about how Queen Sansa Stark actually felt. All he could do was listen and try to comprehend his wife's words bit by bit.

'Seven hells, what did I ever do to deserve you…?' he thought. "Sansa, could you… stay with me? At least a little while longer?"

Sansa smiled. "Of course, my husband. Whenever you need me."

Chapter End

Author's Note: A rather quick due process and trial, but were things done fairly or rather old-fashioned? To quell the thoughts some of you guys might have, Yara Greyjoy will be coming back in the near future so try not to fuss too much about it. Theon, meanwhile, has agreed to take the offer and will live to see another day and remake House Greyjoy in his image on the mainland. Good or bad? And the closing conversation with Daveth and Sansa… what did you guys think? Any thoughts you'd like to share? Let me know.

Zurver: Please show us the meeting of Daveth and Myrcella in the next chapter, and also please ensure the safety of Bran and Rickon and reunite them with their family.

The Last Kenpachi: I think you would have to drop a mountain on Yara to kill her, and even then I wouldn't rule out her survival.

Hear My Fury: Excellent work! Nice to see Theon getting a second chance at life. Just make sure Ramsay Snow is as far away from him as possible. Speaking of Ramsay, now that Daveth pretty much figured out that him and Locke would have held Bran and Rickon hostage will he write to Roose and call for his head? Because that might be an interesting thing to change in canon. I certainly do not want to see him and Sansa together. But given how this story has changed from canon, it's most likely that Ramsay and Sansa will never meet. And also speaking of Sansa I think that was a very sweet moment between the two of them. They both need each other as much as anyone and I think that they'll be the best hope for the kingdoms. That is if Sansa will now tell Daveth about mama Lioness harassing her? Anyway good job and I hope you update soon.

Supremus85: I think Yara requesting (and winning) a trial by combat would have been more like her, but, all in all, I liked this. Also, I found Rodrik the Reader stubborness in earlier chapters uncharacteristical.

Blizzard dragon7777: It will be interesting for Theon to rebuild the greyjoys and like Daveth said why punish the son for the sins of the father. As for the conversation with Daveth and Sansa very character building.

BioHazard82: Another great chapter.

―Thanks.

mpowers045: At least now Theon has redeemed himself

The Three Stoogies: Theon keeps his head and what about Yara find out next time on Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper! Great chapter keep up the great work

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

10868letsgo: I believe Theon Greyjoy he can change the ironborn ways. But he is going to need an marriage alliance for he could have enough man power to make sure no one will challenge one day.

ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful!
Update immediately, please!

―Will do.