Jon XVII

Jon cleaned his blade with a cloth that he had found on the tables in the hall of the Twins. He wasn't covered in a lot of gore, unlike some of the men that fought with Lord Hawker. Whoever had been in command of the defenses had been smart, placing the majority of his men in the western keep. Unfortunately, that had been the undoing of the Frey's when Jon and the Blackfish had stormed the eastern keep, sweeping aside the weak resistance they met and taking most of the members of House Frey prisoner before anyone in the other keep had time to realize what was happening.

Ser Brynden's plan had gone off without a hitch. They had managed to find the ford and cross it the evening before the battle. Their attack on the eastern gate had also gone perfectly. There had been a few weak points on the gate where the metal met the stonework. Those had been the first to come loose before the rest of the portcullis was torn from its fittings.

Just after Eyan Hawker shot off a signal arrow is when all hell broke loose. Glover and Mormont took the majority of the men and began to clear out the castle. They had orders not to give any leniency to Frey soldiers that they found, only to women and children. While they accomplished that, Jon, Ser Brynden, and a handful of knights went directly to the main hall where they found an irate Lord Frey.

Jon would remember the brief conversation and fight for a long time.

Line Break

Jon and Ser Brynden burst through the double doors, cutting down the few Frey guards who had been huddled on the other side. Lord Frey was sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, his last remaining sons standing just in front of him, their weapons shaking in their hands.

"What is the meaning of this!" Walder roared weakly before a coughing fit gripped the old man, taking much of the bite out of his bark.

"Walder Frey, you are charged with treason!" Ser Brynden said fiercely. "I will give you one chance to surrender and end this fight before more of your men die."

The old lord of the Crossing slammed his hand on the table, his face mottled red and purple with rage.

"Never!"

Ser Brynden led the charge into the last remaining defenders protecting the Lord of the Crossing. It wasn't even a challenge for the old knight and the northern bastard. Together, they cut down half the group while the rest turned and ran, abandoning their lord.

"Cowards! Traitors!" Walder bellowed. For the first time, the old lord was showing a little fear as Brynden and Jon approached him, their blades slick with blood.

"Ser Leon, take this traitor and throw him in the dungeon." Ser Brynden ordered.

"I demand trial by combat." Walder threw out suddenly, holding his hands in front of his face.

"Trial by combat is reserved for nobles on trial," Brynden growled. "You and yours have been stripped of any such luxury." he turned to Jon. "Jon, what would King Robb do?" he asked.

Jon glared at the old lord. "My brother would behead him." he spat.

It was at that moment Walder Frey lost control of his bladder, soiling himself as he began to sob fearfully. It was a pitiful sight. The once mighty and arrogant Lord of the Crossing reduced to a soiled, sobbing wreck of a man.

"His crimes are against House Stark," Jon continued, "even though I am no Stark, King Robb is still my brother. I will swing the sword."

Ser Brynden nodded firmly, not arguing with the younger man. "He will be executed in the morning. Now get this sorry mess out of my sight."

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After Walder Frey had been dragged off, Lord Glover had led more cavalry across the bridge and pinned the last defenders between himself and Lord Hawker's men. Once the gate of the western keep was opened, most of the defenders knew that the fight was up. Some tried to surrender, others fought to the last, and a few even threw themselves into the river, forgetting that they were wearing mail shirts and had metal helm strapped to their head.

Their death was a lot slower and probably a hell of a lot more painful.

Now Jon sat outside the eastern gate on the leg that would be used for Lord Frey's execution. Ghost was at his side, his mouth still colored red from last night's battle. He had particular useful in finding the ford as it had been hidden by a grove of trees.

"Jon," Ser Brynden called, walking up to the northern bastard, flanked by the rest of the war council. They all still wore their armor and were sporting blood and bruises from the fight. No doubt the Greatjon had already boasted about how he got some of his war wounds.

"Ser Brynden, are we ready?" Jon asked, standing up.

The older knight nodded. "He's being brought up now."

Walder Frey looked no better than he had when Jon had seen him last. His long, thick robes were stained with piss and dirt. The old man's face was haggard and sagging, his eyes still red with tears and his nose was running profusely.

He looked like shit. Plain and simple.

Jon gestured for the two Tully men to put Walder's neck on the block as he took his spot, planting Frost in the ground in front of him.

The northern lords who had seen Eddard Stark execute someone would say, at that moment, Jon looked like a young Ned Stark. The way he held himself, his sword, the look in his eye. There was no doubt, the boy was a Stark.

"Walder Frey, you are charged with treason against King Robb, King in the North and of the Riverlands, Stormlands, and Reach. Do you have any final words?" Jon asked, his voice heard clearly by all present for the execution.

"Please….please don't kill me." Frey whimpered weakly. "Please, I'll do anything."

Jon frowned. "You made your bed, Frey, now you must lie in it," he said firmly. "I, Jon Snow, brother to his grace, King Robb Stark, sentence you to die."

The stroke was clean and strong, taking the old man's head off in a single cut. But in Frey fashion, Walder couldn't even die cleanly, voiding his bowels just before his head was taken from his shoulders.

"Put a head on a spike and place outside this gate." Ser Brynden ordered. "Throw the body in the river."

The guards nodded and bowed, grabbing the headless body and head and taking them away, leaving the nobles alone to talk.

"That was well-done lad." the Greatjon praised, laying a surprisingly gentle hand on Jon's shoulders. "Ned would be proud."

"As would your brother," Glover added.

Jon nodded to them. "Thank you, my lords. Walder Frey's transgressions were against House Stark. I gave the sentence and I swung the sword."

"I must admit, that is the first time I've seen northern justice." Edmure mused. "It's quite….honorable."

"It's a northern tradition." Lady Maege explained gruffly. "If you're strong enough to condemn a man to death, then you are strong enough to swing the sword and hear his final words."

"Well said, my lady." Lord Mallister praised. "Now, what will be done with this place?" he asked, gesturing to the Twins.

"I will leave a castellan in place when we march south to join his grace." Ser Brynden said. "As for what will happen to it? That will be left up for King Robb to decide."

"What of the rest of the Frey's?" Jon asked.

While Walder had been killed, and most of his sons were in the North with the Boltons, that still left dozens of children and women from Walder's many marriages. They had all been confined to the main hall.

"They will be kept here until the end of the war." Ser Brynden answered. "Then, the women and their children will be sent home to their mother's family. Those who are unwed shall be sent to a convent to join the faith or silent sisters. Any young man who is unmarried shall either be sent to the Wall, the faith, or the citadel."

"How many did we lose?" Lord Blackwood asked.

"2,000 foot," Edmure answered grimly. "Mostly those under Lord Hawker's command."

"Do we know how his grace faired against Tywin?" Lord Karstark asked.

"I have not received any riders or ravens," Brynden answered. "Once the Twins are secured, then I plan to march south towards Harrenhal." the old knight looked around. "If that is all my lords, I am sure you all have things to do."

As the nobles began to disperse, Ser Brynden pulled Jon to the side, making sure no one is within earshot.

"Jon," he said, "I want to wish you luck as you travel north."

Jon shifted. He had grown used to seeing Brynden as a grim, brutally honest man. He was unused to seeing a softer side of the man like he was now. It made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Ser Brynden. I wish the same for you when you march south to join Robb." Jon responded.

Brynden nodded. "I wasn't sure what to make of you when you arrived. You have shown that you are brave, fearless, and smarter than some might give you credit. Though I expect nothing less from the son of Ned Stark." he hesitated before continuing. "I wanted to give you some last-minute advice for when you face Bolton."

Jon wasn't sure what to say, so he simply nodded.

"As we both know, Bolton will not fight fair. He will cheat, lie, and be a dishonorable piece of filth. Do not trust a word he says." Brynden said. "You will be surrounded by good advisors, especially Lord Hawker and Lord Umber when you finally face the man. But there is one thing I tell all that come to me for advice. Trust your instincts. What makes Robb a great strategist is that he knows when to trust his gut. You must keep that in mind when you're fighting a man who no longer has morals. Do you understand?"

Jon nodded again. "I think so," he answered.

Brynden nodded as well. "Good. You have excellent warrior instincts. Those will put you in good stead. Just remember that."

With that, the knight began to walk away but stopped and turned when Jon called his name.

"Ser Brynden?"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why have you been so nice to me?" Jon asked. "You barely know me."

The old knight shrugged. "You know Cat sent me letters telling me about you, about her fears of what you might become?"

Jon nodded.

"Cat is a smart woman. But she was wrong in your case." Ser Brynden continued. "I've seen a lot of life lad. I've served in three wars, now a fourth. I've seen people, old and young, show more courage than most nobles. I've seen highborn and lowborn fight and drink together. What I'm saying is; life is not black and white. It's grey. I promised myself long ago to never judge a man by what is said about him until I see and talk with him personally. I wasn't sure what to make of you. Now I do."

And with that, the Blackfish walked away, leaving behind a stunned and silent Jon.