At Winterfell…
There have been tensions been high: those who fought for Ramsay Snow and survived the Battle for the North were being held on trial by the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. With House Bolton extinct, the Dreadfort razed to the ground, punishment had to be meted out. Lord Ludd Whitehill of Highpoint along with his two sons Torrhen and Gryff were killed in battle fighting the Starks at the hands of Lord Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath. Among the enemies slain were Rickard Karstark and Smalljon Umber, leaving their children Alys and Ned; all three were standing before Robb Stark and Sansa Stark.
"The Karstarks, Whitehills and my traitorous bastard boy all betrayed the North!" the Greatjon Umber bellowed. "Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."
"The castles committed no crimes, Lord Umber," Sansa countered. "But in the wars to come we'll need every fortress we have to stand against it." She turns to her brother. "Robb, we should give Karhold and Highpoint to new families – loyal families who supported us against Ramsay."
The hall likes this idea by the sound of it.
"Lord Stark, Your Grace," Gwyn spoke up, "whatever my father and brothers have done – the rest of House Whitehill had no part in his treachery. I beg you to reconsider—"
"But do you think that's fair?" Theon interjected. "Is it wrong for the sons and daughters to be punished for their father's crimes when they themselves had nothing to do with it?"
"Theon," Robb noticed.
"When my father was killed… when the Iron Islands were destroyed and my family almost wiped out, I vaguely recall you and Sansa both standing up for me when King Daveth clearly wanted to destroy House Greyjoy root and stem. I'm not a Stark or a Northmen like the rest of you, I know that. But your father raised me to be an honorable man. And let me be the first to say that what you're thinking would be a big mistake in the long-term. I don't know much about the Whitehills, but the Umbers and Karstarks have fought beside House Stark for hundreds of years. They've kept faith for generations—"
Then interruption and arguments are sent flying.
"And they broke faith," Lyanna Mormont interjected rather loudly.
"What do you know?! You're a bloody ironborn!" shouted Lord Manderly.
"So you'd propose no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?" Rodrik implored. "Lord Stark, Rickard Karstark and his sons Torrhen and Harrion both died fighting for you in the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, but Harold died fighting for Ramsay as did Smalljon Umber! Reward those whose men died fighting for you!"
"Strip them of their lands and titles and fortunes and give them to someone worthy of—" Lord Glover concurred before being interrupted.
"Hey!" the Greatjon glared down at the child. "My son's already shown himself a turncloak and he paid for his treasons, but my grandson is an innocent lad!"
"How do we know he or that Karstark bitch won't end up like their fathers?!"
A loud groundswell of support and heated words goes up in the hall in response. Lucius, Brienne, Stannis and Davos glance at each respective Stark. They were waiting for Sansa and Robb to each make a move, though the Wolf Queen felt faint and looked pale. The Young Wolf noticed his sister massaging her belly and asked if she was sick. When she replied no, Jon decided this was the time to intervene.
"Robb," he spoke up, "when I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I executed men who betrayed me. I executed men who refused to follow orders. Our father always said the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and I've tried to live by those words every day since my stay at Castle Black." He glanced at Theon. "But Theon is right. You must not punish a son for his father's sins, nor should you take a family home away from a family it's belonged to for centuries."
"Jon—"
He turned towards Sansa. "Think back at how Daveth wanted Theon dead. He wanted the whole Greyjoy bloodline dead. We all heard of the incident that occurred that day at Lannisport many years ago – but those who've committed that crime are long gone. Show them mercy and they won't break faith ever again."
Sansa looked at Jon, Theon, Gwyn, Alys and Ned. She felt sick to her stomach, tired and breathed a sigh of frustration. Damn these hormones and random mood swings.
"Do what you will," the Wolf Queen brushed off.
Robb sat in judgment. Rubbing his stubble and petting Grey Wind, he sighed begrudgingly and stood up. "Ned Umber," he calls out.
Young Ned Umber, the Greatjon's 9-year-old grandson, rises timidly from his seat and into view. He is very much a child, and a frightened one at that – only reassured that everything will be all right from his lord grandfather.
"Alys Karstark," the Young Wolf continued.
The daughter of Lord Harrold likewise reveals herself in the crowd. She is 15, six years older than Ned, but still little more than a child as both approach Robb visibly afraid at the possibility they might be executed. Robb gestures for them to come towards him, whom they oblige haltingly—painfully conscious of the judging eyes upon them. Gwyn and Alys do their best to hold their heads up high.
"Each of your fathers committed grave crimes against House Stark," the Young Wolf begun, "what they have done is unforgiveable. As fellow Northmen, you yourselves know this. However, none of us here actually knows whether or not any of you were involved in any way. What Lord Theon suggests might be better than what others would offer if this took place somewhere else."
Gwyn, Ned and Alys kneel and stare up at him.
"But until then, I'll ask you only one time to pledge your loyalty to House Stark. To serve as our bannermen, and come to our aid whenever called upon. Now that winter is here, the North needs to band together to survive. The entire North. Will you stand behind me Gwyn, Ned and Alys, now and always?"
"Now and always," all three vowed in unison.
The bannermen fill the hall with their applause and appreciation, stirred by Jon's speech and by the sight of these young heirs swearing renewed fealty to their liege lord. Sansa does not join in and excuses herself. Only Brienne, Lucius and Pod follow close behind her.
—5 hours later—
Robb and Jon sit at the high table with representatives from Northern houses, the wildlings and Stannis Baratheon's host sitting amongst each other in the dining hall. The bastard and traitor Ramsay Snow was defeated and House Bolton utterly wiped out—root and stem. Olyvar was permitted to give his niece Walda and her infant son a proper burial, though both were so terribly mauled beyond recognition he had a hard time keeping his composure let alone trying not to vomit. Not even prayers to the Old Gods of the Forest or the Faith of the Seven could ever bring them back to life.
Besides the Starks, Theon sat next to Jeyne—providing whatever emotional comfort and support he could muster. She was still shaken by what happened to her at Ramsay's hands, and it'll take time for Jeyne to recover.
"The Northerners, the wildlings and Lord Stannis' army each played a vital in ending the villainy of the bastard Ramsay Snow," the Young Wolf stood up. "We all fought bravely together and we won since the days of the First Men, resisting every known threat to the North just as we had resisted against the Andal invaders thousands of years before."
"Hear, hear," Cley Cerwyn proclaimed. "Now that the Boltons are gone, the war is over. And now that winter has come, we should ride home and wait out the coming storms. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in 1,000 years if not the longest ever."
Jon shook his head and stood up. "The war is not over," he frowned.
All eyes turned to Jon Snow's objections; even Robb, Sansa and Rickon looked at their half-brother with quite a surprised look on their faces.
"Jon—"
"And I promise you, my lords and ladies, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm."
The men begin to murmur amongst themselves. What could this baseborn lad be talking about? What nonsense was he uttering? What enemy? Are they going to be under siege again? No matter, Northern valor would prevail once more as they've demonstrated at the Dreadfort. The whispers continued until Lyanna Mormont, Dacey's youngest sister, stood up.
"I understand my sisters and I are responsible for Bear Island and all who live there," she said heatedly. "So why should we sacrifice more Mormont life for another war that may or may not happen?"
Jon fell silent, but Davos stepped forward.
"If it please, my lady, I understand how you feel," the Onion Knight said.
Lyanna turned towards him. "I don't know you, Ser…?"
"Davos, my lady, of House Seaworth."
The younger Mormont turns to Maester Luwin, but Davos reassures her.
"King Daveth once asked me that very same question many years ago, my lady. You don't need to ask a maester about my house. It's rather new."
Dacey eyed him closely. "All right then, Ser Davos of House Seaworth. How is it you understand how we feel? You and Lord Stannis are not of the North."
"No, no we're not," Davos noted. "I was a crabber's son, then I was a smuggler. And now I found myself addressing a gathering of lords and ladies of great houses. But I stand here with Lord Stannis because this is no longer a war between a few squabbling houses."
"Clarify."
"Go on, Ser Davos," Lyanna said doubtfully.
Davos turns to Jon. "Your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont, made that young man his steward. He chose Jon to be his successor because he knew he had the courage to do what was right—making peace between the Night's Watch and the wildlings, even if it meant giving his life. Because Jeor Mormont and Jon Snow both understood that the real war is between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming."
"What a bogus claim!" exclaimed a Northern lord.
"Where's your proof?"
"The White Walkers have been gone for over 8,000 years!"
Robb slammed his fist on the table. "Quiet, my lords!" he hollered.
The room got quite when Grey Wind snarled. Dacey, meanwhile, raised her six-foot tall body from the bench and looked at Jon Snow. The bastard noticed she was beckoning him towards her, so he complied. Once Jon was close to Dacey, he loosens the belt holding his sword and presents it to her.
"This is…" Dacey recognized it.
"Longclaw," Jon nodded. "Your uncle gave me this sword. He changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf, but it's still Longclaw." He hands it to Dacey. "It's been in your family for five centuries. It's not right for me to have it."
The Lady of Bear Island held Longclaw in her hands and looks it over. "I remember uncle Jeor. My mother and sisters all called him 'Old Bear,' as did everyone else on Bear Island. Not because of his age, oh how he hated that, but how uncle Jeor was fiercely protective and a lovingly loyal man to us before abdicating to join the Night's Watch. He embodied House Mormont's qualities of strength, honor and fearlessness. Nurturing and warm," She looked at Jon. "How did he die?"
"Rast and Karl Tanner turned on him at Craster's Keep, just beyond the Wall during the Great Ranging. Shoved their knives in his back," he answered. "Before the Battle of Castle Black, I led a team of rangers to avenge him."
Dacey looked at Jon, listening closely to his words. "Good," she said viciously. "And these… things Ser Davos mentioned earlier, you said you've seen them?"
Jon nods. "Your uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost, my lady. As united as the North stood against Ramsay, it alone might not be enough when the Night King does come. We can't reason with him, we can't parley with him… He is death itself."
Dacey pauses, pulling Longclaw halfway out of the sheath and inspecting the blade closely. After a few moments, she put it back in its sheath and handed the Valyrian steel sword back to Jon.
"My lady?" he asked confused.
"Our uncle chose to pass down Longclaw to a successor worthy of inheritance," she insisted. "Take it with you as a token of friendship between the Mormonts and Starks. May it serve you well and your children after you, Jon Snow… the White Wolf."
Jon accepted Longclaw back in his possession. Dacey looked at him and Robb, nodding her head in approval—giving them her consent for House Stark to retain the use of her family's ancestral weapon. The Young Wolf looked around to see Sansa no longer present in the great hall.
"Jon? Where's our sister?"
In the Godswood…
Sansa stood before Winterfell's weirwood tree, looking up at it as if lost deep in thought. She closed her eyes and steadily inhaled and exhaled. Gods, it had been more than five years since the Wolf Queen was last here in the godswood. Reaching her hand outwards, Sansa gently brushed her hand along the great oak. The godswood was covered in snow, but the weirwood tree still retained its dark red leaves and a long melancholy face carved in the bone white bark, its deep-cut eyes still dried red with sap. The silence was broken when Sansa's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the snow.
"There's no need for you to check on me by sneaking on me like that, Ariyana. I know it's you," she called out calm and composed.
Ariyana stopped moving. "Forgive me, Your Grace… if you're at prayer."
Sansa shook her head. "No, that's all right. I was… reminiscing."
"About what?"
"I used to come here in the godswood every day when I was a girl. I prayed to be somewhere else. Knowing what I know now, I only thought about what I wanted – never considering what I actually needed. But I suppose everything worked out in the end. A husband, two beautiful children… Life works in mysterious ways," Sansa turned to face Ariyana. "You, on the other hand, continue to elude me. My husband and I entrusted you with our protection as a Kingsguard, Ariyana, and yet you spied on us. Sent secrets to people in Dorne we didn't know until the negotiations took place. But not long after the Battle for the North, I've learned from Ser Olyvar and Ser Lucius that you yourself played a role in aiding my brother. Why come before me now?"
The Sword of the Morning knew she was being put on the spot. "I understand that one act might not be enough to regain your trust or faith in me, Your Grace. It pains me, but since that day I vowed to make amends to you and your family… even if it's one step at a time, a Kingsguard keeps their oaths—and a select few of our male counterparts who actually abide by the chivalrous knight's code of honor." Ariyana exhaled steadily. "It's true Prince Doran asked me to observe you, but after all time I spent with you—you basically treated me like family. I began to slowly realize what kind of people you really were. I wanted to tell you the truth, but… I lost my nerve. I didn't want to choose between the two of you: Dorne or the Crown. I made a choice, Your Grace, and now I have to live with it for the rest of my life. I don't expect your mercy or forgiveness, and will accept any punishment you deem fitting."
Sansa watched with surprise as Ariyana actually fell to her knees and lowered her head down before placing Dawn at her feet—throwing herself completely at her mercy. The Wolf Queen still had not forgotten nor forgiven one of her own sworn shields for that debacle, but if time has taught her anything – it's to not continue holding any grudges lest it would destroy you from the inside; as it had with Robert Baratheon with the Targaryens that it literally took only dying on his deathbed to finally let go. Her husband Daveth nearly went down a similar path as well, only diverting from its course after the Second Greyjoy Rebellion was put down. Sansa was faced with making a decision she couldn't put off any longer.
"Stand up, Ariyana. Get up off your knees," she beckoned.
"Your Grace?" Ariyana lifted her head up, half in confusion and half with surprise.
"Although I cannot forget what you did, continuing to anchor yourself with guilt will never allow any real progress to be made. Trust is difficult to rebuild, Ariyana… but you fought for my brother and saved Ser Lucius's life out there. So I'm willing to give you at least another chance for that."
"Your Grace, I… this is unexpected," the Sword of the Morning nearly stammered. "King Daveth would never afford me the same forgiveness. If you will permit me to remain as your Kingsguard, my dedication to the Iron Throne will never come into question again."
"If you have any concerns, just tell us. Do not go behind our backs again."
"There will be no next time, Your Grace. I swear."
Sansa returned Dawn to Ariyana—who accepted it back with a sense of relief. Out of the corner of the Wolf Queen's eye, she noticed another group making their way to her.
"So this is where you were. Lord Stark was looking for you," Lucius acknowledged. "I take it Ariyana's… told you everything?"
"She has, Ser Lucius," Sansa confirmed.
"Why were you not at the great hall? Is everything all right?" Brienne asked.
"No, Brienne. I just—" she noticed Jeyne steadily approaching. "Jeyne?"
The two childhood friends moved to embrace each other.
"What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be in bed recuperating."
Jeyne looked lost in thought. "I… I tried, but… I-I can still feel w-what Ramsay did to my body. Even standing here right now, I can feel it. Everything."
Sansa shook her head. "Don't even think of such things. You're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore."
"I-I know, Sansa. And I'm grateful to you, Robb and Theon for all you've done for me. It's just… my father is gone. He-he's dead."
"I'm so sorry."
Jeyne hugged Sansa again. "I… thank you. What happens from here on now? I don't know what else to do. Where am I supposed to go?"
The Wolf Queen simply held her best friend. Jeyne was a cherished childhood companion who was like a sister to her. Her father and Winterfell's steward, Vayon Poole, was murdered by Ramsay. Sansa thought about it long and hard until she had an idea.
"Jeyne, would you like to come live with me?" she asked.
She looked at her. "Y-you want me to… to l-live with you? Down south at King's Landing? Oh Sansa, do you think I can?"
"I believe so, yes. You're like a sister to me, Jeyne. My son and daughter would adore you. So long as you're with me if you choose to do so, no one will ever come for you again. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."
"Your Grace—" Olyvar tried to interject but was quickly silenced when Sansa shot him a cold death glare.
Jeyne sniffled. "*sniff!* Then… can I pack my belongings?" she asked.
Sansa nodded. "Of course you can." She pulled her to the side. "Actually, before you do so, I have something to tell you. All of you."
"What's that?" asked Brienne.
"Do you remember why I asked to see Maester Luwin once we arrived at Winterfell?"
"Yes. That was several weeks ago," Lucius nodded. "Did you find out what was wrong?"
"I wouldn't say 'wrong', Ser Lucius."
"Then it was a good one?"
"Mhmm. Everyone, I'm pleased to announce that I am pregnant with my third child."
Brienne, Lucius, Olyvar, Ariyana, Pod and Jeyne all stared blankly before realization set in. One by one, each of them applauded and congratulated her upon hearing such news.
"This is incredible, Your Grace! How far along are you?" Lucius asked.
"I'm 2 months."
"Congratulations, Your Grace," said Brienne.
"Indeed, congratulations," said Ariyana.
"Can I feel?" asked Jeyne politely.
Sansa smiled and nodded and allowed Jeyne to place a small, delicate hand on her best friend's stomach—now starting to grow in size. Even now Sansa's lower back, feet and breasts were aching from the second pregnancy. But with the war for the North over, Sansa allowed herself a moment's peace with her friends before leaving Winterfell for King's Landing tomorrow morning.
"Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?" asked Brienne.
Sansa rolled her eyes. "I don't know."
"Maybe another set of twins?" joked Olyvar.
The thought made the Wolf Queen shudder. "Oh by the Gods, I certainly hope not!"
Chapter End
Author's Note: Dealing with the aftermath in the North might cause several mixed reactions as how Robb Stark could've possibly handled the remaining descendants of those who fought for Ramsay, but Theon and Jon both stood up for them—one in particularly mentioned a similar solution he himself was once in. Dacey Mormont declines to take back Longclaw and instead passes it on to Jon Snow and Ariyana Dayne is forgiven by Sansa, though it'll take time for trust levels to be properly restored. Also, Jeyne has been invited to live with Sansa in King's Landing. Think the twins Lyonel and Cassana will like her? Thoughts? Let me know.
DarkFireCat5241999: Funny thing that they don't bring that logic with daveth for parents sins or grand parents we all know what baratheon and lannisters are capable of
Ayman El Kadouri: Moreeee twins hahahahahah
Aries90: I have to say this its an amazing story you have written here just changing one thing makes things interesting . Yes there are deaths not as many deaths as there where , Ned still died but lived longer , Cersei and LF get caught and die , Ramsay is killed in slightly more quick fashion The Mountin is killed by Obren Jon Kills Joffrey for disobidence (Ironic how he dies in this ). But than other characters have better lives , Sansa doesn't get passed on to psycho to psycho , Robb and Caitlyn live along with Robbs wife Orben lives Shae is she still alive?. But I am curious though I think Dany and Daveth should unite to take on the knight king since you know in this time line the seven kingdoms are actually seven kingdoms in this finally or something else but I would like to see more .
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
birdy: this was a great read i cant wait for the next chapter
Bio RL: Sansa if you want has the power to enter a real guard? is supposed to be only a queen consort, the power falls only on the king (I hope you do not start with what the 2 govern) is a medieval age just do not work things like that. I would like Daveth to return to dorne, lately this Forgiving everyone.
10868letsgo: It's true that if you don't forgive the children of your enemy. It will control you for life. That's why Robert never forgave Rheagar or the Mad King because of what had happen to Lyanna. Look at the Stage King now, he married a bitter incest woman, a drinker and whoring around. Lyonel and Cassana would be wary at first, but children will take a liking on someone they had never met before. Can't wait to read more of this story.