The day after Winterfell had been retaken by the Starks, and after a great feast had been held in the camps and in the castle to celebrate Robb's great victories in the mainland, the King of the Seven Kingdoms locked himself in his solar with the Reeds and his brother Bran for several hours, causing some concern amongst his bannermen.
"Bran needs protection. Crossing the Wall itself is madness, but if what you say is true then he will be in the greatest of dangers." Robb did not look at Meera, Jojen, Howland or Bran, instead he stared into the fire of his solar with his back to them.
"Jojen will find us the safest path. With a guard, enough supplies and horses, I know I can make it there, Robb. The raven has come to me every single night-."
"I know, Bran. I know. Jojen Reed has told me all." Robb sighed, placing a hand on the mantlepiece to bow his head for a moment.
"No-one outside this room and Bran's guard can know about this. It will make me seem no better than Stannis to the southern lords. I cannot have dissent spread through my ranks while there is still a battle to be won. Bran, you will take Harlow Umber, Jojen, Meera, and…Hal, Tomas and Grover, father's men. They will protect you. Take our strongest horses and enough supplies to last you. You will leave at once, and I will say that I am sending you on a diplomatic mission to the Neck. You must return to Winterfell at once, do you understand me? By the time I have sailed to King's Landing, I want to have heard from Jon at the Wall that you are on your way back."
"Bran will not make it back by that time." Jojen said, knowing that Robb Stark would not be happy.
"He will, or he won't go at all." Robb said through gritted teeth.
"You worry for him, you're a good brother. But if you care for him, and wish to see him freed from the pain of his injury…you need to let him go, and you need to let him learn."
"And what of the Wall? Of Jon? You say he is beyond the lines, you say a wildling army marches on him and he needs my help?"
"Yes, he does. But that is some time away. Your plans are to raze Pyke and install Baelor Blacktyde as Lord of the Iron Islands then to sail back to King's Landing where your army will disperse home?" Jojen asked, earning a reluctant nod from Robb who was ever-glad that this boy's gifts were on the Northern side.
"You cannot do this. Baelor Blacktyde is dead, and the only future for the Ironborn is death. They bring nothing but strife upon Westeros and will plague your rule forever more if you do not destroy them now. I know you wish to return to King's Landing, but peace will not find Westeros until the Others are sent back to their realm. I do now know what your choice is, but you must both assist Jon and save the Night's Watch as well as sailing to Qarth to save Daenerys Targaryen from the House of the Undying where is being held against her will. To defeat the Others, there must be a Stark, you, who represents the ice, and there must be a Targaryen, Daenerys, who represents the fire. Jon Snow's place and purpose in this life is to defeat the Others as an amalgamation of both, as a Prince of Ice and Fire." Jojen's words once again caused Robb's head to painfully spin. The Wolf King sank into his chair shaking his head once more.
"I will decide what action to take when I have dealt with the Iron Islands. I suggest you write me a list of things I should be prepared for, Jojen Reed. Lest I send our country to a frozen hell. Harlow Umber will have to stay behind, his father would never let him go that far North for that long. Bran…I am putting you in charge of the party. This is your first command, even if it is not what Starks normally do. Gather your men and venture forth after the executions."
"Thank you, Robb. For trusting me." Bran smiled at his elder brother who did his best to smile back. Bran was his heir, and the only logical choice to hold Winterfell. If he was hurt, it would haunt Robb for the rest of his life.
After his long talk, Robb Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm walked out into the main courtyard of Winterfell, where all the residents of Winterfell and all of Robb's noble lords were gathered to watch what was to take place eagerly.
A light summer snow was falling as Robb walked down the great wooden steps from the pavilion where his father and mother had once watched he and Jon teach Bran how to fire an arrow, so many months ago. Robb was dressed in a finely-stitched black woolen doublet, the buttons of which were sterling silver direwolf heads, around his shoulders was a heavy cloak lined with silver wolf's fur, his crown was on his head where it usually was, and Ice was being carried by his squire behind him.
In the centre of the courtyard was a platform where Theon Greyjoy had given his 'inspiring' speech to his Ironborn, upon that platform was now an ancient block stained with the blood of over a hundred men that the Lords of Winterfell had executed.
Six Stark guards in boiled leather held three prisoners before the platform; Roose Bolton, Petyr Baelish and Theon Greyjoy. Robb had looked forward to this moment for many months, to finally execute those who betrayed him and to cement his hold on the Seven Kingdoms. Robb walked past the three men without even glancing at them, he climbed the steps of the platform to cheers from his people. Robb raised a hand for silence.
"This year…has been filled with bloodshed, horror and pain. My father, Lord Eddard Stark went south to serve his King honorably. He was betrayed, taken prisoner and denounced falsely as a traitor the realm. My father was the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms, and I lay blame for the treachery he suffered at the feet of Petyr Baelish. A man who served Joffrey and Queen Cersei before King Robert's body was even cold. A worm of a man who has claimed falsehoods against my mother and my aunt. My uncle Brandon spared his life at the behest of his betrothed. It was a mistake. Today, I correct that mistake. Bring him forth." Robb called, turning to let his cloak drop from around his shoulders before he unsheathed Ice. Baelish, who had been a prisoner of Robb's since Storm's End so long ago, was a shadow of his former self. A scruffy beard replaced his usual neat goatee, his face was gaunt, his clothes in rags and he smelled as though he had been rolling in manure. Broken by the treatment of the Northmen, Baelish knew he had played one card too many in his game, and he had lost. He had assumed Ned Stark's honor to be a weakness, but it had earned him a great following outside of King's Landing.
Baelish said nothing as he was dragged before Robb.
"Petyr Baelish, for the crimes of high treason against my father, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King. I do hereby sentence you to death. Do you have any final words, my lord?" Robb asked, as he placed Ice before him.
Baelish merely smirked, looking like his old self for a moment "Game well played, Stark. But don't think that it's over. This realm that you've just won yourself is nothing but chaos. You cannot rule over chaos."
"No. But I can destroy it. Kneel." Robb retorted coldly, sending Baelish to his knees roughly, he was held down on the block by one of the Stark guards as Robb took a step back to swing Ice through the air, the Valyrian steel sung before it took off Baelish's head with a single, clean swipe.
"Put his head on a pike." Robb said dismissively, picking up Baelish's head by his haggard hair to show it to the crowd before a guard relieved him of the dismembered head.
"Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort." Robb called as Baelish's body was dragged away. Roose showed no hint of emotion as he climbed the steps to face Robb, his hands shackled behind his back.
"For your crimes of high treason against me, for conspiring with Tywin Lannister against your liege lord, your allies and your King, and to rid the North of the stain that is House Bolton, I do sentence you to die. Do you have any final words, my lord?"
"If you think killing me is the end, that you are sadly mistaken. My son will rise up against you, the Dreadfort is well-garrisoned and will hold ou-."
"Ramsay Snow was killed by the Greatjon Umber after my men managed to sneak in to your castle. The Karstarks hold the Dreadfort now, and your line is ended. Kneel, my lord." Robb's words finally brought emotion to Roose, who looked stunned, angry and distraught at the news.
"No. You cannot do this. My family has flayed your kin for thousands of years! We will not end at your hand, boy!" Roose struggled against his guards before being forced to kneel, his chin and throat being stained by the still wet blood of Petyr Baelish. Robb did not think twice as he beheaded Roose Bolton and ended the line of House Bolton once and for all.
Finally Robb looked to Theon Greyjoy, who looked completely and utterly broken as he was shoved up onto the platform before Robb. The two men looked at each other for a moment, before Robb, unable to control himself swung a powerful fist into Theon's jaw, sending his former friend crashing to the platform floor.
"Pick him up." Robb growled "Theon Turncloak of the House Greyjoy, invader of the North, traitor to the realm and my former friend. For your treason…in betraying me and my orders, betrating the trust I had in you, and for the audacity of beseiging my castle of Winterfell. I sentence you to die, as warning for any man who would think to betray the Royal House of Stark from this day onward. I mourn the boy I grew up with, for he died when I learned of what you did. You, Turncloak, I will not mourn."
"If you kill me, you will have no hope of suing for peace with my father!" Theon shouted desperately through a mouthful of blood.
"Peace? There will be no peace for the Iron Islands. Only destruction. Your father has perished, fallen from the bridges of Pyke. Your sister is captive in Deepwood Motte, and your Uncle Euron has claimed the Seastone Chair. After I am done with you, I will take his head as well. Make no mistake. Kneel, Turncloak."
"Robb…I'm sorry." Theon said desperately, looking into Robb's eyes with tears in his own. Robb had no compassion for his former friend, who had been willing to kill and burn two boys to hide his blunders. Theon had threatened Robb's power by taking Winterfell, Robb had to show that any man who dared attempt such a thing would not meet a good end. He simply nodded to the guards who pushed Theon over the bloodied stump as he cried.
"Goodbye, Theon." Robb said quietly, before in a swift stroke he too was beheaded by Ice. The gathered crowd cheered as Robb shook his head, his shaking hand nearly dropping the greatsword as he saw his old friend's head roll to look at him with dead, hollow eyes.
"Send word to Riverrun, King's Landing and Highgarden that the traitors have been executed." Robb said to Luwin a little while later, as the Young Wolf wrung his hands together in the great hall of Winterfell where his lords bannermen were feasting. Robb himself could not touch a thing, all he felt was guilt for killing his friend, even though Theon had betrayed him first.
"You did what you had to do, Robb. I counseled him to run, to flee to the Night's Watch. He chose to stay and fight. You reap what you sow, despite what the Greyjoys claim as their House words."
"Aye. I know that. But here I am, back in Winterfell. Father is dead. Theon is dead. Bran is gone. Mother is in Riverrun with Arya and Sansa is in Highgarden. The Starks are scattered." Robb said sadly, causing Luwin to place a hand on his shoulder.
"Not for long, Your Grace. Not for long." Luwin smiled.
Author's Note: Hey, hey. So just so everyone's aware, I'll be summarizing what happened in the Iron Islands, as to describe each battle in detail would take many chapters xD