JON

Wearing Robb's crown and sitting on the Throne of Winter, Jon felt strange as all the lords knelt before him and his brother Rickon. Despite feeling pride in his accomplishments, Jon couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness now that he was back at Winterfell. However, seeing his brother dressed in Stark attire brought him some comfort. Jon couldn't help but think that the direwolf emblem on his tunic should be a dragon instead. Jon stood up and addressed the hall as their king, quieting the room as they listened to him speak.

"Finally, my Lords and Ladies, the North is liberated from oppression once again. Despite all obstacles, you have remained loyal to House Stark, and I promise that loyalty will never be betrayed. Cheers to the North!"

The Northmen, eager for anything to celebrate and toast to, enthusiastically clinked their cups together and exclaimed in joy. Jon pondered whether they would still rejoice even if he commended a sandstorm in Dorne, and he suspected they would. He wondered if they would also cheer for his upcoming announcement, but he had no time to doubt himself. He glanced at the door and nodded, instructing two of his faithful men to proceed to the dungeons.

"Winter is nearly here, and although I would prefer to stay safe indoors and avoid the cold, that is not possible. As you all know, the Night King and his army of undead creatures are approaching, and the Long Night is approaching. We will do our best to prepare for that battle, but in the meantime, there are some issues that we as Northmen must address. The Boltons are no longer a threat, but the Lannisters and Freys continue to live peacefully, unaffected by the bloodshed caused by their actions against our people."

Jon could feel the room practically shifting, with the pain and grief transforming into something volatile and menacing. He noticed that all eyes were on him, eager for him to utter the words they had hoped for since the Red Wedding.

"The North remembers, gentlemen and ladies, the North remembers. I don't know about you all, but I curse every day that I breathe the same air that a Frey or Lannister breathes. Luckily for us, it seems that almost all of the Freys have gathered at the Twins and are content to drink and feast over the next few weeks. I think we should probably meet them for this festival and give them a good idea of ​​the true northern hospitality."

As everyone cheered and banged their cups against the table, Jon caught Lord Royce's gaze and held it. After a brief hesitation, the newest Lord Protector of the Vale nodded, prompting Jon to smile as he carried on speaking.

"Naturally, we don't have to wait until then to seek justice for my father's murder. One of the people who betrayed him is here in this castle."

The crowd fell immediately silent, their gazes shifting back and forth until Jon raised his hands.

"He is in the dungeons where he belongs, and is now brought to us to be sentenced. He was the one who convinced the city guard to betray my father in King's Landing, and the one who with the help of Lysa Arryn kill Jon Arryn. He has confessed these crimes to my sister and she has sworn to Heart Tree that they are true. So, as my first act as King in the North, we will now witness the sentencing of Petyr Baelish. "

It appeared that Littlefinger was a broken man as he was forcefully brought into the Great Hall. His face was bruised and swollen, and his body was covered in filth from his time with the Wildlings. Jon had kept him with the Wildling camp during his campaign, where he was not treated kindly. Sansa believed him to be skilled at manipulation but physically weak. Littlefinger broke quickly under interrogation, revealing valuable information about his crimes and connections. Jon had him transferred to Bear Island for further questioning by the Mormonts. Littlefinger confessed to numerous crimes and revealed his network of spies and blackmail schemes. Jon had extracted all useful information from Littlefinger. Despite his physical condition, Littlefinger seemed to gain some strength as he approached Rickon and knelt before him.

"Your majesty, I am unaware of the false accusations your illegitimate brother has made about me, but I assure you they are not true. I have always been a faithful friend to your parents."

Both Shaggydog and Ghost were the ones who pushed in between Baelish and Rickon, snarling and snapping their jaws at him, which stopped the man from speaking. Rickon also glared at him.

"You betrayed my father and mother, and Jon is the king. I am the prince."

Baelish glanced to his right and spotted Yohn Royce.

"I am the guardian of the vale!"

"You gave up that right and that honor when you admitted to poisoning Lord Robin. You are nothing and no one, Petyr Stone."

"Stone? I am not."

Jon stood up and interrupted the man, his voice resonating loudly and with a cold tone.

"As the King in the North and the Vale, I, Jon Stark, formally declare you, Petyr Stone, as the illegitimate child of the Vale. I disown and revoke all your lands and titles. House Baelish will be eradicated from all official documents and symbols, and the place you consider home will be demolished. Similar to House Bolton, your name and lineage will soon be reduced to ashes, and you will be disregarded. Is there anything you wish to say before the end?"

Littlefinger stared at him in shock and horror for an extended period before a strange grin appeared on his face. A low, peculiar, and menacing laughter began to escape from him, causing Jon's neck hairs to stand on end.

"Impatient and slow-witted, that's what you Starks are like. Your Uncle Brandon is the worst of them all, going from prostitute to prostitute and not caring that he's breaking Catelyn's heart. I didn't keep her. In fact, your aunt Layanna is the one who did the worst, running away with the prince for love and abandoning her duties."

Jon's ears were ringing as the words sunk in, causing his voice to become cold.

"Rhaegar kidnapped my aunt."

Baelish's mouth emitted a bark of mad laughter.

"Was she kidnapped? Does the North still believe the lie I told in Riverrun years ago, by the Seven?"

"Your lie?"

"Yes, my lord. Your aunt came to me one night before Brandon's wedding in Riverrun, asking me to deliver a letter to her brother in secret. She then rode off on her own horse. The letter revealed her plans to hide in Dorne with Rhaegar and Elia, instead of marrying Robert. She expressed regret for disappointing her family, but felt she had to follow her heart."

As Jon walked over to the smirking Baelish, a freezing sensation started to spread through his veins. He tightly clenched both of his fists by his side, completely unaware of the murmurs and growls emanating from the Northern lords nearby.

"Is it what you are saying that my aunt was never kidnapped?"

"She left of her own volition, and burned her letter the moment it disappeared over the horizon. Then, in order to get back to the man who had taken my cat away from me, I started running through the town, talking about how Lyanna was dragged kicking and screaming and crying for help. All I had to do was mention a black and red sign, and everyone jumped to the conclusion that it was Rhaegar. I wasn't even the one to tell Brandon, but he heard the news when he was in his cups, or in "Some whore, probably. The idiot came out of the brothel barely in his pants and started riding to the Red Keep, and, well, you all know the rest. So try to forget me, you bastard. Try to forget my name."

The Great Hall was filled with absolute silence while Jon gazed at the ground. Everything could have been altered. In his previous life, Howland had informed him that there was no kidnapping, but he did not understand why people believed it to be so. However, Jon now knew the reason. It was all due to the man standing in front of him. A chilling sensation, colder than the Wall itself, engulfed him as he locked eyes with Littlefinger.

"You're right, Baelish, I'll probably never forget you. But whenever I think of you, I will remember that too and hopefully it will put a smile on my face."

Jon's fist struck Baelish's face, causing several teeth to be knocked out. The second punch then knocked out most of the remaining teeth from his bloody mouth. The following punch sent Baelish tumbling to the ground, and Jon swiftly pounced on top of him, relentlessly striking his face and breaking his bones. Amidst the chaos, Jon could hear a mix of cheering and screaming from the onlookers. He continued to deliver blow after blow to the man who had caused so much devastation, reflecting on the lives that could have been saved if not for him. Eventually, Jon ceased his assault and observed the gruesome aftermath. Baelish's face and skull were completely crushed, leaving no resemblance of the human head it once was. As Jon surveyed the horrified Northerners, their pale and fearful faces retreated in fear when his intense gaze locked with theirs. In a low growl, Jon uttered a few words that caused everyone to scatter in panic.

"Gather your horses. We are going to ride for the Twins now."

JAIME

The Kingslayer contemplated whether the bitterness in his throat would be more palatable than the emotions he experienced while staring at Walder Frey's back. His longing to return to King's Landing was not driven by Cersei this time, but rather by his son Tommen, who was alone and vulnerable on the throne. Feeling remorse for not intervening in Joffrey's cruelty and Myrcella's death, he felt compelled to act for Tommen's sake. As he considered leaving to protect his son, Bronn joined him quietly.

"There are a lot of singers and players here. Too many if you ask me."

Jaime scoffed, as music did not hold any interest for him.

"It is likely that they are here to gain favor with the new Lord Paramount of the Riverlands."

Bronn scowled while shaking his head.

"To me, they do not appear to be singers or musicians. They have a tough and grim appearance. Furthermore, everyone else seems to be intoxicated except for them."

Jaime had to admit that Bronn had a point. There were several larger men playing smaller instruments, but they were of poor quality. However, their music was still acceptable. Jaime shrugged, questioning why he should care about the appearance of a singer. As he glanced at Bronn, a voice from the past suddenly called out, resonating loudly and causing the entire hall to fall silent.

"Jenny would dance with her ghosts, high in the halls of the kings who are no longer here."

Jaime struggled to breathe as he heard the familiar voice that haunted him once again. The man standing in the corner, who bore resemblance to both Ned Stark and Rhaegar, caught Jaime's attention. The song ended, leaving a lingering silence until Walder Frey broke the quiet with a few soft claps.

"It has been a long time since I have heard such a bold song, but you sang it well, singer. I want to make it clear that I appreciate good music, so please come forward and tell me what you would like."

The singer glanced at one of his companions and nodded before heading to the center of the hall. Bronn grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear.

"No matter how good his voice is, it's not a singer. He's a fighter, and he's ready to be a fighter."

Jaime pushed him away while listening to the man talk. His voice sounded familiar, with a hint of a northern accent.

"I came this way to find my brother's remains, sir, so I can bury him at our house."

"If you came here for a corpse, no doubt it was the victim of the Young Wolf's treachery that night."

Jaime noticed that the man's shoulders became tense, yet he still nodded.

"Treachery and deceit are the reasons for his downfall."

"Well, I made a promise to my family, and unlike the King in the North, I intend to keep it. So, singer, tell me the name of your brother, and I will send men to find his grave, so that he may be buried in his lands."

"The name is Robb Stark."

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room as the man's words went unacknowledged, and then chaos erupted. The other musicians suddenly armed themselves with axes and knives, attacking the intoxicated Frey men. The Great Hall of the Twins once again became a scene of slaughter, this time with the Freys as the victims. Jaime witnessed a red-bearded man swiftly take down three soldiers before turning his attention to the singer, who was still fixated on Walder Frey. Bronn intervened, engaging in a fierce battle with the singer that reminded Jaime of Rhaegar. Despite initially gaining the upper hand, Bronn was outmaneuvered and lost his hand and head in the skirmish. Before Jaime could react, he was bound and presented to the man in charge, with another intimidating figure looking on with a mix of respect and fear.

"Your Grace, we have found Lord Edmure and his family, as well as my nephew GreatJon and many other prisoners."

"Express gratitude to the old gods and prepare them for the journey back to Winterfell."

Jaime could see the supposed king now, and his blood turned cold. It was the illegitimate son of Ned Stark, the boy he had mocked in the past. However, Jaime was certain that the boy had brown eyes, not grey. In fact, he was nearly certain. The last time he had seen grey eyes in a Stark was a long time ago. Suddenly, everything clicked into place as his heart raced and he gasped in realization.

"Rhaegar?"

The bastard king's features showed a look of shock as he looked down at Jamie. He could now see it clearly. How could he have been so blind? All he saw suddenly was blindness and darkness as Jon's sword pommel hit his temple, causing him to fall to the ground.

JON

The King in the North glanced around briefly, unsure if anyone had heard the Kingslayer's words. It appeared that no one had noticed, as they were preoccupied with capturing the remaining Frey individuals. Following his clear instructions, the men were swiftly dealt with. He made arrangements to provide land and employment for the women. Turning his attention to Walder Frey, Jon watched as Lord Umber and Tormund forcefully brought him before him. After a moment's hesitation, Jon kicked him in the mouth twice with his leather boot. He then crouched down and looked disdainfully at the pitiful man in front of him, his words laced with contempt.

"If it were up to me, I would flay your skin and all the bodies of your kin and make you eat them, and that would be the first thing I would do to you. Instead, you would be 'coming north with us to Winterfell. There are dozens of mothers and widows eager to meet you, Lord Frey."

The old man's eyes widened in fear, and he started urinating as Jon stood up and glanced at the other prisoners. One of them, a young boy, was wearing a red tunic with a golden lion emblem. Jon approached him, first removing the Kingslayer's golden hand.

"You boy, what's your name?"

"Kyle, my lord, I mean your lordship."

"Do you know the way back to King's Landing?"

The boy's face contorted into a frown as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Yes I do."

Jon nodded and threw the golden hand to him.

"Well, we'll give you a horse and you'll ride back to the capital today to give it to Cersei Lannister. Tell her that the North is independent again, as are the Riverlands and the Vale. Tell her that the North Remembers, and that for every soldier she sends up the Kingsroad, I will send a piece of her brother down to meet her. Leave us alone and Jaime will live. Do you want me to make myself clear?"

The boy nodded, and Jon signaled for his order to be executed, with some of his soldiers trailing behind. Jon felt a cold chill surround him, and he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

"When we reach Moat Cailin, I want Frey's head there as a warning. Make sure you take everything of value from the castle and burn it all to the ground."

Lord Umber walked over next to him, and Jon could almost taste the man's blood lust. He could feel it in the air as the Northmen, still tightly gripping their bloody weapons, looked to him.

"Is that all, Your Majesty?"

Jon was initially satisfied to go home and get his people ready for winter, as there was still some time before the heavy snows arrived. However, when he saw where his brother, sister-in-law, and unborn nephew had been killed, a fiery rage broke through the icy barrier around his heart. Despite his men being startled by his reaction, they stood their ground.

"Lord Umber, we are far from finished. While justice has been served to Houses Bolton and Frey, the Lannisters have yet to face consequences for their actions. They may claim to always repay their debts, but they owe the North a heavy price for the bloodshed they have caused. We will continue the mission my brother began, and tomorrow we will advance towards Casterly Rock. Rest well tonight, for tomorrow will be a day of action."

At some point in the future.

Dragonstone was finally in sight. After years of exile and hardship, Daenerys was finally returning home. She had just sent a few skiffs of her Unsullied to investigate the island, and she could see their boats returning. A light breeze passed by, and her new companion appeared by her side, with grey eyes observing the castle walls decorated with statues of dragons, which her children were gazing at curiously.

"Your ancestors really loved dragons, Daenerys."

"Aren't Winterfell full of carvings of wolves? Or weren't your ancestors proud of their family's symbol, Arya?"

The girl from the Stark family smirked and nodded.

"Regardless of the outcome, you are still indebted to me for a few hours of sparring once we resolve everything. The Valyrian Steel on your hip is a tool that I expect you to be skilled in wielding."

Before she had a chance to respond, the boat carrying the Unsullied reached the main ship, and Grey Worm hurriedly crossed the deck to her, momentarily glancing over at Arya with a surprised expression in his usually emotionless eyes.

"There are men waiting for you on Dragonstone, my queen."

"Waiting for me? Who are they?"

Grey Worm paused for a moment, his face showing an expression of confusion as he glanced back at Arya. Daenerys sensed her other advisers, including Quaithe, Kinvara, Tyrion, Varys, Ser Barristan, and even Edric Storm, moving closer as her Unsullied commander stood up straight and responded.

"They have banners with wolves sewn on them, and there is also a big white wolf on the beach. The man who greeted us said he was the king in the north, in the Vale and in the Riverlands and in the Westlands and so on. His name is Jon Stark. He welcomes you home to Westeros and that you and he have much to discuss."