Judgment and Closure

_A/N: _Sorry for the delay everyone. I kept getting interrupted and was busy working on other stuff. But if it helps, I just broke the record with this chapter-length as well so there is a lot to read in this one.

Also, kudos to anyone that figures out who was the actress I cast for Lady Wynafryd, the heir to House Manderly by this point in the timeline, and from where did I get those gifs :D

Oh and remember, the next section of the letter from the epigraphs is going to be available at the top of the chapter.

Anyway, I hope you like it, everyone. And as always, please review.

Epigraph:

We were fortunate enough to be able to count on Azor Ahai in the first Long Night. Even more so to count on the Last Hero during the second one. But I remain unconvinced that we should risk putting our hopes in this new **** God, of all things, for the third Long Night.

Even if his ascension had a Titan’s seal of approval.

Jon Stark walked at the head of his group, arriving at the outer entrance of New Castle that faced a dirt road that led to a forest near White Harbor. There, he saw a party of riders escorting two chained men ever closer to the Manderly keep. Keeping a close watch on the prisoners at the front was a young woman that roughly seemed to be about eight and ten, around Arya's age even if she was taller than his sister. Her armor was a mix of chain mail and hardened leather; a bow and an elegant quiver hanging from her back. Realizing she was Lord Wyman's eldest granddaughter and heir, he noticed that her stare was so full of determination and contempt as she glared at her prisoners that the secret god could easily imagine why they looked so pale.

Eventually, the highborn Lady noticed their approach and she smiled, immediately hurrying to climb off her horse.

Before long, she started walking towards him with a delighted smile and once she was in front of him, she bowed deeply.

"My king, it is very good to finally meet you," The future ruler of White Harbor declared, her tone respectful. "Apologies for not being there to greet you when my grandfather bent the knee. I had...unfinished business to take care of."

Jon took a glance at the duo of prisoners and nodded almost imperceptibly. "So I see. And, likewise, I am pleased to meet you, at last, Lady Wynafryd. To be honest, I still remember the conversation I had with Robb when we heard you wouldn't be able to make it to my sister Sansa's 10th nameday festivities, so long ago. Since we had heard by then that you were getting very skilled with archery, my brother and I were going to make a friendly competition and see who could shot more accurately at our target. The winner would have asked you for a dance, so we were a bit disappointed when we heard you couldn't come," He explained, his smile getting even more sheepish when he realized that she could see Lady Margaery tense slightly at his words.

Wynafryd chuckled, her smile bittersweet. "Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago. And my most sincere apologies for missing that opportunity. I guess I owe you a dance, your Grace."

Jon laughed a bit as the momentary tension that went with the formality of their meeting melted away and started introducing the heir to House Manderly to ones that were accompanying him. Arya seemed to regard her with more respect than she usually shows Ladies when they started talking about archery, her eyes widening slightly after learning that the richly carved quiver she was carrying was made of mammoth ivory. Then, Wynafryd claimed she had been practicing with her bow for half her life and invited his sister to practice with her whenever she wanted, which made Arya grin at her in response. That smile was somewhat dampened when she asked the heir to the Northern city exactly how old she was and his sister discovered that Wynafryd was two years younger than her, at six and ten years old. She muttered something about being annoyingly short herself but her dissatisfaction did not reach her eyes. In fact, the princess and the lady both started chuckling at that before long.

Later, the future ruler of White Harbor had raised an eyebrow when she heard that Bellegere was an envoy from Braavos but didn't hesitate to make her feel welcomed in her city. Sarella she had already met by then so they just exchanged a friendly smile before she headed to greet Lady Margaery. Their own meeting was cordial enough, with Wynafryd's mood considerably improving when the Rose of Highgarden assured her that tons of food from the Reach will be arriving at White Harbor soon, if her grateful smile was any indication. Even then, Jon could still make out a bit of tension in her posture when addressing the, arguably, most powerful non-Stark Lady in his domains but Margaery worked hard to hide it.

Once the introductions were over, Jon decided to satisfy his curiosity.

"May I ask who these prisoners are, my Lady?" He asked. "And how exactly they are part of your unfinished business?"

Wynafryd glanced at them and glared. "Those men, if you can call them that, participated in the Red Wedding and bragged about it on our own keep more than once. They are known as Rhaegar and Little Walder Frey. Worse, after House Manderly's position was threatened in the aftermath of your brother's defeat, my grandfather was **** to accept a betrothal for my sister Wylla and me to treacherous members of House Frey. They were the ones chosen," She added, her tone bitter with distaste.

The King of the North and the Trident stared at them, anger surging within him as he watched them swallow. "I see," Jon replied. "In that case, it must have felt satisfying to corner them like rats during your chase."

The Lady of White Harbor smirked at that. "Most certainly, your Grace."

Abruptly, the oldest of them, the one that reeked of sycophantic acts on the Frey's part for being named after the firstborn son of the Mad King, stomped the ground.

"These accusations are baseless!" He cried out. "And even if they weren't, you can't prove that we killed anyone that day. So, we demand a Trial by Combat."

Little Walder Frey echoed his sentiment. Jon looked at them with growing contempt while starting to contemplate that perhaps the time had come to begin putting in practice one of the ideas that had come to him when it came to preceding over the trials for the members of House Frey.

However, before he could reply, they were interrupted by Lady Margaery. "But that doesn't make any sense," She said in an innocent-sounding tone. "After all, King Tommen made a royal decree banning the practice of Trial by Combat months ago and he sent ravens to all the keeps in Westeros to spread the word. If you remain loyal to him after the rewards that were granted to your House for the acts of treachery against your liege, then you must abide by his edict. And besides, that concept is not a common legal practice in Northern tradition."

The jaws of the Frey men dropped almost simultaneously and Jon couldn't help but chuckle, enjoying the way the Rose of Highgarden turned their own words against them so skillfully. Still, before he could agree with her openly, he was interrupted once more when Arya stepped forward and grabbed Little Walder Frey's face tightly with her left hand. The king's eyes widened, wondering for a moment if she was going to kill him outright but she just examined his face up close, from side to side.

"More importantly," Arya finally said, "Trials by Combat are used when there is enough lack of evidence or credible testimonies to put the accusations into doubt. And now that I look at you up close, I realize why you seem so familiar."

If looks could kill, Jon realized that Little Walder Frey would be dead by now. Then she spat in his face, making him flinch.

"I saw you fire your crossbow into Grey Wind," She declared in a furious tone. "You helped kill my brother's direwolf."

Jon inhaled sharply at that, starting to share her outrage. Gritting his teeth, he asked her if she had seen the other Frey kill anyone but Arya admitted that the answer was no.

The secret god decided that this settled it.

"Lady Wynafryd," He said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "I know there is a Weirwood tree in the old Wolf's Den of White Harbor's bay but is there another godswood anywhere closer, by any chance?"

She blinked rapidly before her smile started growing, which made you realize she had heard something about his new "magical" abilities involving Weirwoods.

"As a matter of fact, yes," She replied. "We just need to get closer to New Castle and then take another dirt road that will take us directly behind the keep."

"Perfect," Jon said with a nod. "In that case, please have one of your men send word to the remaining Tyrells in the city, your sister, and my new Grand Maester. They are also going to want to see what I am going to show them there. Oh, and I will need the largest mirror you can bring to that area on short notice."

Then he stared at the Freys. "You won't have a Trial by Combat. But you will still be judged," He vowed.

About half an hour later Jon was examining the large weirwood tree from up close, taking in every inch of the unusually big carved face. One could almost think it fat, even.

"Must be a particularly old Weirwood," He thought as he placed a hand on its bone-white trunk.

Behind him, the King of the North and the Trident could almost feel the gazes of everyone in his group while they waited for the elderly Lady Olenna to arrive so he continued putting a show for them, closing his eyes while his face was in their line of sight; muttering words to himself that they couldn't hear at the same time as he was touching different sections of the heart tree.

He remained with his back to the group for a few more minutes but then, after he felt that an appropriate enough amount of time had passed, he instructed servants of New Castle to place the large mirror at the base of the Weirwood horizontally. That way, he ensured the reflective surface was located right below the mouth at a height nearly as tall as him and almost twice as wide.

By the time they were done, he heard footsteps approaching and he turned back just in time to see Lady Olenna's arrival, her expression difficult to read as she took in the scene before her.

"Well, my hips are killing me, your Grace, so I hope you had a good reason for summoning me here," She stated.

Jon nodded and started to approach their increasingly unnerved prisoners, taking his time as he finished organizing his thoughts.

"Well, I am sure you have been wondering what sort of magical powers I now have at my disposal given what I have said before and all the rumors that have been circling around," He said, as he began describing the cover story to explain the diversity in his abilities that he had been preparing for some time. "And it occurred to me that some of them might be useful for the purpose of justice. So, in the interest of killing two birds with one stone, I thought you might want to learn some of what I can now do."

The Matriarch of House Tyrell tiled her head, curiosity evident in her gaze. "You assume correctly, your Grace, so please, put an old lady out of her misery, will you?"

The secret god chuckled. "Very well. It took me some time to fully comprehend what I was doing, exactly, but eventually, I learned that whatever deity was behind my resurrection didn't just give me one magical power; he gave me the means to gain more if I applied enough effort."

Jon paused, taking a moment to look at his frowning sister. He had already told her through their mental talk on the way to White Harbor that he didn't want the people to start worshiping him as a god and of his fears on the matter. She expressed her support for him during that conversation but it was clear to him she didn't know what to make of him twisting the truth or outright lying to preserve his divine cover. Given his own sense of distaste for the actions even if he had to act confident enough to sell his position, he couldn't really blame her.

He was snapped out of his brief musings when he noticed Margaery staring at him with a lot of interest and maybe even a bit of awe. "Sounds fascinating," The Golden Rose responded. "But how does that work?"

The King in the North and the Trident took a deep breath and continued. "I gained the ability to learn how different branches of magic work as soon as I get to see pieces of their respective spellwork in action. And through my newfound instinctive knowledge, I am then able to replicate what's needed to do that kind of magic myself if I have everything I need."

There was a long moment of silence in the godswood as Jon allowed them to digest that. He nearly sighed.

"And technically, I am not actually lying there, since I did give myself the ability to instinctively learn that kind of information while strengthening Sansa's warging abilities," He reminded himself mentally.

Still, that didn't make him feel much better for being intentionally misleading with his allies all the same. But he already started with his cover story so it will be better off to finish it before he started sounding unconvincing. With that in mind, he resumed his explanations.

"On the day I bonded with my Ice Dragon, I also meet Elsera Snow a powerful Blood Magic sorceress, valuable ally to House Stark, and the half-sister of your former handmaiden, Mira Forrester, as a matter of fact," He remarked, which made Margaery's eyes widen. "When I saw her use some of her magic, all sort of useful information regarding her kind of sorcery became known to me. Besides that, you must have heard by now that I have rediscovered all sorts of ancient powers involving the Weirwoods that were once known by the Greenseers of old. And it is my new understanding of those forms of magic that have brought us here today," Jon added, placing a hand on the mirror while glaring at the two prisoners.

He left the implications hanging there for a moment, wondering if anyone was going to connect the dots based on his explanations. Unsurprisingly, it was Grand Maester Marwyn who gaped first, before he started to look delighted with professional interest. Lady Olenna frowned and exchanged glances between the chained captives and the mirror, before her gaze titled in the direction of the red sap around the mouth of the Weirwood that looked so similar to blood, and her own eyes widened.

"Oh, I am so glad I decided to offer my services to you, my King," The Archmaester specialist of the Higher Mysteries said with a wide grin. "Combining Greenseer and Blood magical arts in connection with the weirwood web to view the past of the prisoners in question in a mirror? That is simply brilliant!"

The interest of everyone else in the group had peaked by that moment if their expressions were any indication. And Wynafryd Manderly seemed to enter a very good mood right then and there, looking at the two prisoners the way a Shadowcat might toy with his prey with satisfaction before finally eating it. They visibly swallowed at that.

"That's the idea," Jon confirmed. "But to clarify, if all goes as planned, I would only be able to use their blood to show images in the mirror that belong to them and from their perspective at that. Still, if they committed any crimes during the Red Wedding, we will soon find out."

He stared at the treasonous Freys with a harsh expression. "This is your last chance to confess to any crimes you may have committed during the Red Wedding. As it is, I am not inclined to even give you the option of taking the black at the Wall because you may find a way to mutiny as members of the Night Watch too but, since they are starving for recruits, I will consider it as possible mercy if you admit to any wrongdoing now. I will still verify your story with my powers to make sure you are not trying to deceive me to get a lighter sentence but I will at least consider an option where you get to keep your heads."

The two Freys were clearly frightened by the circumstances they found themselves in but while they exchanged a long glance with each other, neither decided to confess anything. In fact, when Rhaegar Frey opened his mouth it was only to say that there was no way he could hold that kind of power. So, Jon inhaled sharply but remained resolute.

"Have it your way. Men, bring them here and someone, give me a knife."

The soldiers of White Harbor stared at Lady Wynafryd for a moment, seeking her approval. She nodded immediately and they rushed to follow his orders. In seconds, he had a restrained Little Walder Frey with a palm within the carved mouth of the large Weirwood tree. Jon made a shallow cut to ensure the blood started flowing and placed a few drops at the top frame of the mirror as well.

Then, he started chanting in High Valyrian, the first time he actually started speaking it since he gave himself and Sansa the ability to speak and understand any language of the known world but he kept his tone of voice low, not wanting to give his audience too much of an idea of what exactly it was that he was saying, in case any of them knew the language well. After all, while it may be possible to do what he intended to do through a combination of Blood Magic and Greenseer might, at the moment, he intended to replicate those results through the sheer versatility of his godly powers. So, when he believed the show had gone on for long enough, he made a wish, this time involving Arya by preparing a present for her he will give her later.

And in time, images started filling the mirror.

The audience behind Jon started to whisper among themselves as they realized his "magical" plan worked. And they sounded even more impressed when they started hearing echoes from the past resonating from the mouth of the weirwood. Before long, they saw Little Walder Frey wearing a helm as he approached a table filled with Stark bannermen. He asked them if they were from Winterfell and they confirmed his suspicions, after which they asked if the feast was over. Then the grandson of the Lord of the Twins replied that it was indeed over, before unsheathing his blade and murdering the unsuspecting Northener.

Jon's teeth gritted as he watched the crimes from the past unfold before his eyes, the witnesses behind him growing solemnly silent in the process.

They watched as Little Walder Frey helped kill a couple more guests under their roof and then hurried away to look for his crossbow along with his treacherous allies. As soon as they grabbed them from a nearby hiding place, they returned quickly to the place of their initial massacre so that they could approach the cage where Robb's direwolf was kept, which made Jon inhaled sharply, his own outrage growing as the scene continued.

Jon turned to look at his sister and noticed the understandably vengeful expression on Arya's face. He nodded to her for a moment before turning back to the murderer in question. He looked so shocked with fear that Jon suspected he might wet himself.

"Well, it seems my sister's testimony checks out," Jon said, his voice cold. "I would ask if you have anything to say for yourself but you missed your chance and at this point, I can't say that I care. Next!" He commanded.

And with that, the guards dragged the traitor from the mouth of the Weirwood and brought Rhaegar Frey kicking a screaming to the ancient tree. Once he was properly subdued, Jon cut his palm as well and let the blood flow.

As before, a few seconds later the river of memory started streaming through the Weirwood and into the mirror. But this time, there was a gasp of disbelief soon after the first image revealed itself.

"Father?!" Wynafryd Manderly shouted, her hand reaching her heart on reflex; besides her, her little sister Wylla cried out, her eyes wide.

Jon's eyes widened at that, realizing this was Wylis Manderly, Lord Wyman's eldest son who was killed at the Red Wedding. And if they were watching this echo of him from the memories of a traitor then...

The secret god restrained the urge to punch Rhaegar Frey right in the nose with his newly accessible giant-sized strength and tried to focus on the mirror, their new gateway into the past. Before long, they saw Rhaegar Frey order one of his soldiers to attack the then heir apparent of White Harbor, which he did but while the fighting by that point had clearly injured the large man, he still manage to overpower him and cave in his face with an ax.

But then, while he was distracted with the effort it took to take down his enemy, they watched as Rhaegar Frey shot him with a crossbow right in the throat, his mouth curling into a smirk and unable to hear the screams from the daughters of his victim across time.

As the images faded back into a simple reflection, the silence in the godswood was as somber as that of a funeral. But before long, the new heiress to White Harbor stomped her way towards the traitor and slapped him in the face as hard as she possibly could.

"You killed my father!" She yelled, her eyes absolutely full of venom. "And then you had the nerve convince Walder Frey to get you betrothed to me?! You murderous piece of shit!"

Jon Stark nodded almost imperceptibly as all of that sunk in, his heart going out for Lady Wynfryd. Then, a diplomatic idea came to mind and his eyes hardened.

"I have seen enough," He declared. "Little Walder Frey, Rhaegar Frey, through my authority as King of the North and the Trident, I hereby sentence you to **** for the crimes of treason, **** and the breaking of guest rights."

The treacherous murderers wailed in despair but the secret god was not done. "Arya," He called out, "Please fetch me the sword."

"With pleasure," His sister said with a fierce expression as she brought the bag he had instructed her to carry since they headed down their Ice Dragon.

He handed it over and Jon extracted the reforged Valyrian Steel half of Ice that Brianne of Tarth had delivered him. Given its links to the past Lords and Kings of the North when they needed to pass down sentences, it felt more appropriate than using Longclaw this time around. And so, he instructed the guards to **** Little Walder Frey into a kneeling position and to place his head over a tree stump nearby.

Before moving forward to enforce the law, however, he looked at the Wynafryd with a firm expression.

"As you know, Lady Wynafryd, the tradition in the North is that the one who passes the sentence should swing the sword," He remarked. "As such, I will be the one to execute Little Walder Frey. However, while I may be your king, I am also currently a guest in your lands. And Rhaegar Frey committed a heinous crime against your family. So, as the heir apparent to House Manderly and the future ruler of the city where this trial was held, I would find it acceptable if you wanted to swing the sword on your father's murderer yourself."

A long pause was felt in the godswood as everyone took in his words. But then, she took a deep breath and nodded, a smirk of satisfaction growing across her lips.

"That will be my honor, your Grace," She proclaimed. "Thank you very much for granting me this opportunity to bring my father's killer to justice. But if you don't mind, I would prefer to execute him with my bow instead. I am much more skilled at archery after all and the treacherous rat killed my father with an arrow, so it feels appropriate."

"Sounds reasonable," The King of the North and the Trident replied with a nod. "Do you want to do the honors and begin?"

To that, she shook her head and gestured at the restrained Little Walder Frey. "I wouldn't dare. By all means, my king, go ahead."

Jon shrugged at that and unsheathed the Valyrian Steel half of Ice he will have to rename one day. Then he approached the condemned criminal and stared.

"Do you have any final words?"

"Mercy! Please, mercy!" He begged.

"Denied," Jon responded.

And with that, he swung his sword and a head rolled.

Jon stared at the beheaded body slump to the ground and inhaled sharply at the gruesome work that was required of him. But then he looked up and saw that the White Harbor guards were busy chaining Rhaegar Frey to the Weirwood tree while Lady Wynafryd got herself into a firing stance and prepared her bow and arrow.

As she focused her trained eyes on the treacherous murderer, she addressed the pale prisoner one last time with a fierce grin.

"Well, "my dear" it seems this betrothal is officially over," She noted. "But do me a favor, will you? When we finally send your grandfather Walder all the way to hell as well, tell him that the Manderlys send their regards."

"Wynafryd, plea..."

And his words died out on his throat when an arrow hit his face right between the eyes.

Silence reigned supreme in the woods for a long moment as the condemned prisoner slumped into his chains, only interrupted by Lady Wynafryd's inhaling and exhaling rapidly, looking incredibly satisfied. All the same, a tear fell from her eye but her sad smile that followed was one of acceptance as she looked up at the sky for a moment.

Then she turned around to look at Jon and bowed her head in utmost respect. "Thank you so much for helping me find closure and justice for my father's ****, your Grace. I will never forget it. And while I know my grandfather already pledged his fealty, I wasn't there at the time. So, allow me to renew my commitment to House Stark."

And with that, the heir apparent to House Manderly bent the knee. " The might of White Habor is yours to command. And I will stand behind the Dragonwolf for as long as you'll have me. Hail Jon Stark, King of the North!"

At once, cheers started erupting across the godswood, and everyone joined in, from the guards and servants to his allies from other kingdoms. And his sister cheered loudest of all raising her fist to the air with every shout.

Jon smiled at that, feeling pleased with their loyalty and commitment. Then he took a deep breath as he glanced at the corpse of Rhaegar Frey.

"You are next, Ramsay," He vowed. "So, prepare yourself."

A/N: Well, there you go. I hope you enjoyed my longest chapter yet. Also, good news for everyone, the first stage of the Battle of the Bastards begins in the next chapter so that should be fun! More on that as soon as I can.

Until then, feel free to leave a comment down below and I hope you have a great week.