Opportunities for Amends

A/N: Hello everyone. Not much to say this time other than thanks for the continued support and that we are moving on right where we left off with the last cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy it, even if it seems a bit filler-y to a point.

Arya stood on the walls of Ironrath, her sharp eyes fixed on the approaching riders. Brienne, Podrick, and Rickon were with her, their attention also drawn to the newcomers. The sigil of House Dustin—a black crown over a yellow field, crossed by two longaxes—fluttered in the cold wind.

“Who are they?” Rickon asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of anxiety as he tried to focus his eyes on the approaching host.

“House Dustin,” Arya replied more loudly, her tone thoughtful. “They rule over Barrowton. I once pretended to be a smallfolk from their lands when I was hiding from the Lannisters in Harrenhal.”

Brienne nodded. “Lady Barbrey Dustin leads them. I have heard that she’s a formidable woman, known for her strong opinions and shrewd mind.”

Arya frowned slightly. “I wonder what brings her here now. The battle is already over and they did not send word that they were planning to support us over Ramsay.”

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and decided to find out for herself. So, after telling Brianne to take Rickon to the Great Hall so that they could inform their king of the unexpected arrival, she descended from the walls, making her way to the entrance, where the riders were dismounting. Arya watched closely as Lady Barbrey, a striking woman with sharp features and a commanding presence, dismounted gracefully. Her eyes scanned the gathered crowd with a mixture of curiosity and calculation.

As they approached the gate, Arya found herself wishing that Sansa were beside her. Her sister was more diplomatic, better suited to these kinds of encounters. Besides, Arya had never met Lady Barbrey before because, unlike many lords and ladies that had come to feast at Winterfell to celebrate her older sister's 10th birthday, the ruler of Barrowton had chosen not to attend.

Still, she had heard enough to be wary. Apparently, the Lady of House Dustin held a grudge against her father, Ned Stark, ever since her husband, Lord Willam, had died during Robert's Rebellion. He was killed on her liege's watch, which was common enough in times of war but, for reasons unknown to Arya, her father had chosen not to return Willam’s bones to Barrowton. The memory confused her, adding more questions to the pile she wished she had had the time to ask her father before he was taken from her.

Shaking her head, Arya refocused her eyes on the present as the riders drew closer, and the former Faceless acolyte could see the moment Lady Barbrey recognized her. The lady's sharp eyes flickered with recognition as she took in Arya's Stark features. She halted her horse, a look of calculation crossing her face.

“Lady Barbrey,” Arya greeted her with a nod, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Lady Arya, is that you?” Barbrey asked, her voice smooth and measured.

Arya nodded and a hint of a smile flickered across her lips. "Last time I was in Winterfell, you kept giving your mother painful kicks that caused her to retire early from every supper when I was there. I suspected since then that you were always going to be a handful. And from the stories I have heard about you, both before and after the War of the Five Kings began, it appears I was right in more ways than one," She added, giving her a nod of respect. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my Lady. Truly."

Arya blinked rapidly at her response and the nostalgia that now echoed in the cold air. She couldn't help but smile slightly before too long, however. "Good to hear I have exceeded your expectations, Lady Dustin. Might I ask, however, why have you come to Ironrath? We weren't expecting you," She remarked. "More to the point, I am afraid that if you were hoping to fight against the Bolton forces, you arrived a little too late for the battle. And my brother has already decreed that the soldiers who surrendered were not to be harmed if they weren't causing trouble."

"Oh, I am aware of that," Lady Barbrey responded to her subtle implication without missing a beat. "But if you think I have any intention of being remembered as the "Late" Barbrey Dustin, like Walder Frey became known after the bloody rat arrived too suspiciously slowly at the Battle of the Trident, I suggest you revise your thinking. I may have been too late to arrive at Ironrath in time with my bannermen, but on my way here, I was able to lead my troops against the Bolton garrison that was left behind to hold Torren's Square on my way here in the name of House Stark. And now, any surviving Bolton supporters that successfully fled the battle will not be able to find refuge at that castle."

Arya's eyes widened at that. She knew that the Bolton's had taken over Torren's Square since the end of House Tallhart, so that keep would have indeed been the closest keep any remaining Bolton loyalists might flock to if they wished to continue the fighting. As a result, she returned the nod of respect the fierce lady had given her with one of her own.

"In that case, you have my thanks, Lady Barbrey," Arya acknowledged, her tone as earnest as she felt. "Still, I believe my brother should be a part of this conversation. Would you please follow me to Ironrath's Great Hall? I am sure the King and my sister, Lady Sansa, would like to speak with you about that and of other recent events."

"Of course," The ruler of Barrowton replied smoothly. "I am interested in meeting our new king. And I have more to say than just my report about the reconquest of Torren's Square."

Arya raised an eyebrow at that comment for a moment but decided to say nothing. And so, she settled on keeping her eye close on the Lady Dustin as they walked towards the Great Hall, before the eyes and hushed whispers of the onlookers across the keep's courtyard.

Ironrath's Great Hall: The North

"...so, would you do me the honor of helping me bring Ramsay Bolton to justice?" Jon asked, looking at the handpicked lords and ladies in question as he finished his explanations.

Lady Lyanna Mormont exchanged glances with the members of House Forresters, before turning her head towards Princess Val. And when their fierce smirks were mirrored, Jon could see the satisfaction in their gaze.

"I believe I speak for everyone here when I say that I am grateful for this honor, my King," Lady Lyanna said as she bowed her head. "Now that you have shared your plan, I am confident that the North will always remember the execution of Ramsay Bolton. And I, for one, am glad you are granting House Mormont this place in the history of our kingdom's annals of justice.

Lord Rodrik Forrester nodded vigorously. "Lady Mormont speaks truly, as House Forrester is in agreement. Thank you for granting us this opportunity to be involved in the process. We have been longing for justice for our brother Ethan ever since that treacherous monster slayed him, even after bending the knee in surrender, during the dark days after the Red Wedding. Ironrath will never forget this. I will make sure of it."

Lady Gwyn took a deep breath and a step forward before bowing her head. "And I thank you for allowing me, the last member of House Whitehill, the chance to have a hand in that sadist's execution, even though my late lord father decided to support House Bolton after they tried to usurp House Stark. I am sure my brother Torrhen will be able to rest in peace a little easier thanks to your consideration."

The King of the North and the Trident stared at them firmly for a moment longer, then nodded. "It's the least I could do. At the end of the day, Ramsay Bolton has committed heinous crimes against more than just House Stark. And while duty compels me to make an example of him, duty also compels me to honor your Houses for being among the first to support me in this battle to reclaim the North. So, if you wished to help me swing the sword, as it were, I thought I should make the offer."

"And the Free Folk will thank you for allowing me to represent them as well, King Jon," Princess Val said with a triumphant smirk. "Let us close this dark chapter in the North's past together, so that we can move one into a brighter one."

At that, a loud thumping sound was heard when Magash Char slammed her giant-sized fist on her thick furs covering her chest, signaling her agreement for all to see. Chuckles echoed across the hall after that, the giddy delight of long-anticipated justice finally approaching. Soon, however, Asher Forrester asked in a curious tone if anyone else was going to be involved.

"Well, my siblings already told me that they want to join in as well," The secret god explained. "Given that they have their own grievances against Ramsay, I accepted. And this way, all the members of House Stark in Ironrath will be represented. That in and of itself will send a message of unity, and I appreciate the symbolism, especially now that we are back together."

"As for anyone else, well," Jon went on after a brief pause. "I made the offer to Lord Baelish and Lord Royce as well, in order, to stress that I appreciate the fact they brought the Knights of the Vale all the way to our aid, even if they could not make it in time before the end of the battle. However, after discussing it amongst themselves they decided to decline, saying that while honored, Ramsay Bolton had not committed serious crimes against them directly, so they thought it more appropriate if justice was handled by northern hands. So, I decided to respect their decision."

"Good," Lady Lyanna said in agreement. "This should indeed be taken care of by the North."

Nods of agreement followed, but before Jon could go on, the wide, ironwood doors were opened, and he noticed Rickon and Brienne of Tarth crossing through with an urgent look on their faces, making him raise an eyebrow.

"What it is?" He asked.

"Your grace," The knight in all but name began, "a host of riders have arrived from House Dustin, led by the ruler of Barrowton, Lady Barbrey."

The dragonriding monarch blinked at that while whispers started echoing across the hall. "Huh. I was not expecting her to come to us before returning to Winterfell. Did she say anything?"

His sister's sworn sword shook her head. "I was sent to inform you of her arrival by Lady Arya, your Grace. She went to greet her at the gates. I expect she will want a word with you when you are able, however."

Jon frowned for a moment, thinking back to his last visit to Barrowton many years earlier, back when he had accompanied his father and Robb before he had even joined the Night's Watch. Lady Dustin had greeted his lord father with a coldness that had caught him off-guard but it had surprised him even more when the Lord of Winterfell took it all in stride and without complaint. Later on, during a moment in private, he had even turned it into a lesson for Robb and him. Even now, he could remember the words echoing in his mind.

"Just because our authority has been respected in the North for thousands of years, it doesn't mean that the Lords of Winterfell can't make mistakes along the way that they can't take back," He had said, sighing at the time. "In those cases, it is important to keep it in mind, and to be more patient with the bannermen who had to live with the consequences of your mistakes. And to make amends, where possible."

To his side, Sansa gave him a deep stare, and suddenly, he could feel their mental bond stirring again.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked him silently.

"About something that father once told me," Jon mused as he thought back to her, ideas taking shape rapidly. "And, perhaps, a new opportunity to foment unity."

He paused for a moment longer to glance at the Lord of Ironrath and after a quick nod from his host, he gestured towards the blonde warrioress. "Let her in. I am curious to hear her out."

Bowing her head in response, Brienne of Tarth went back to the courtyard to direct the other guards and make sure they would not block the path of the unexpected arrivals, and after a quick succession of orders, the nearby servants hurried around to prepare a space in the high table where Jon had been conducting the meeting, in case the Lady of Barrowton had been unable to break her fast yet. Then, they sat down, waiting.

A few minutes later, the imposing woman stood tall at the doorway of the Great Hall, her voice echoing through the room as she announced, “Lady Barbrey of House Dustin, ruler of Barrowton.”

Lady Barbrey walked in first, with Arya following close behind. His little sister's sharp eyes scanned the hall as she moved to sit beside Sansa and Rickon, at the high table. The new monarch kept his gaze on the, striking woman's commanding presence as she approached, her gaze unwavering as she took in the gathered council.

King Jon Stark and Lord Rodrik Forrester rose from their seats to welcome her. “Lady Barbrey, welcome to Ironrath,” Jon said, his voice steady and respectful. “Please, join us and accept our hospitality.” He gestured to a servant, who quickly brought forth bread and salt, offering them to Lady Barbrey.

Lady Barbrey took it without hesitation and once guest rights were invoked, she nodded. “Thank you, King Jon. Lord Rodrik.” She took the seat that was offered to her, her gaze locking onto Jon’s.

“It has been a long decade since your visit to Barrowton, Your Grace,” Lady Barbrey began, her tone sounding almost nostalgic. “And yet, it feels even longer.”

Jon nodded in agreement. “Time flies fast indeed, and in unexpected ways too.”

Barbrey shrugged but nodded at his words. “If someone had told me back then that you would become King in the North, I would not have believed it. But all the same, I hope that, with all due respect to your late father, we can get along better now that a new reign is starting."

Jon gave her a deep stare, considering her words. “After the civil war the North has suffered through to topple the usurpers of House Bolton, reconciliation and fostering unity are high on my agenda as King in the North and the Trident. With that in mind, I ask, what brings you to Ironrath so soon after the battle, and what can I do to let bygones be bygones between House Dustin and House Stark?”

Lady Barbrey took a deep breath before responding, her voice steady and resolute. “Despite not being able to make it in time for the decisive battle, I decided to contribute to the Stark cause. On our way here, my forces defeated the Bolton garrison at Torrhen’s Square in your name. I also left my most trusted vassal, Harwood Stout, Lord of Goldgrass, behind to guard the territory in case any Bolton loyalists manage to slip past their pursuers and try to seek sanctuary at the keep.”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly at the pleasant surprise. “I thank you for your support, Lady Barbrey. This development will greatly aid in securing the North,” He acknowledged earnestly. "And yet...I feel that this is not the biggest reason that brought you her," The secret god ended up saying.

Barbrey’s gaze hardened, and anger flashed in her eyes. “I have long suspected that Ramsay Bolton poisoned my late sister’s son, Domeric Bolton, so that he could go back to being Roose Bolton’s only living heir. I will be damned if I miss his execution now that he and his army have been defeated. So, for my own peace of mind, I would like a moment to speak with the vile sadist and look him in the eye as I ask him the question directly at long last. If you grant me this opportunity and the chance to watch him pay for his crimes, I will consider any lingering grievances against House Stark to be finally settled and will work hard to support my new king once I renew my oaths of loyalty.”

Jon was silent for a moment, his face contemplative as he weighed her request. He exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Sansa, who sat beside him. The direwolf-shaped pendant he had enchanted for her to always be able to tell when someone was lying caught his attention once more. Just for good measure, he refocused on their mental bond, before whispering his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Sansa’s reply inside his head was calm and measured. “I sense her sincerity, Jon. She speaks the truth as she sees it.”

Reassured, Jon turned back to Lady Barbrey. “This is a boon I would be pleased to grant you,” he said firmly. “Justice must be served, and your desire for answers is understandable.”

Lady Barbrey’s stern expression softened slightly, a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Jon rose from his seat, his posture commanding respect. “Please follow me and Lady Sansa to the cells,” He instructed.

Then, turning to the gathered Lords, Ladies, and Free Folk leaders, he took a deep breath. “Prepare the stage for Ramsay’s execution. I will be bringing him out to the clearing after we are done. It is time to close this dark chapter in the North’s history.”

The hall buzzed with whispers, and the rustling of people preparing for the grim event ahead filled the room. The anticipation was palpable. Lady Barbrey stood, her movements graceful yet purposeful, and with a nod to Jon and Sansa, she followed them out of the Great Hall. The heavy doors closed behind them with a resounding thud, leaving the lords and ladies to their preparations and thoughts of justice finally at hand.

A/N: Well, that's it for now. And yes, for those wondering, the plan is for Ramsay's execution to take place in the very next chapter. It has been a long time in the coming, eh? That said, I am leaving on an overseas trip tomorrow, so my next week and a half is spoken for. But after I return, we can close this lingering climax and continue with the next round of the storyline.

Thanks for reading and until next time.