Margeary IV:

They said the Old Gods dwelt in the Godswood, but up until this moment I had never really felt them. Even at my wedding, I had only felt slightly uncomfortable, and my subsequent visits in the year since had only produced similar results, a feeling as if I did not belong. Tonight was different, I could feel it in the air. Cold winds caressed me, and there was this heaviness in the air. Everyone was stoic, all the lords and ladies gathered out here. I had Cregan covered in layers, pressed up against me. Jon had insisted he would need to be present. My grandmother was to my side, and to the other Lyanna stood. I could see Lady Catelyn and her daughters to the side, Catelyn's face being pale. She had witnessed one of these ceremonies, but it would be my first time seeing something like this. I wasn't sure I could handle it.

Nothing but silence could be heard throughout the Godswood. Then there was the rattling of chains. Tywin was tossed to the ground, guards holding him into a kneeling position. He was breathing heavily, but no words had been said as of yet. Jon was standing over him, dressed in only black breeches and a white fur cloak. There was a table propped up to his side, which had only two tools, my husband's valyrian steel knife and a small hammer. Jon looked him over and spoke, his voice booming throughout the forest.

"We standhír inn fyrir ór godantilr gørþaur worthyr sacrifice. Vér gefþúr blooðrinn ór lann lion,inn blooð ór kings. Hann hafkhallengeðr þinn lands, fout fyrir false gods. Vér gefþúr repentance."

("We stand here in front of the gods to offer them a worthy sacrifice. We give you the blood of Lann the Lion, blood of kings. He has challenged your lands, fought for false gods. We give you repentance.")

Jon grabbed his knife and looked down, speaking only one word.


Tywin looked on in a stony silence, not deeming Jon worthy to have his final words. Jon nodded at his guards, signaling them to hold Tywin down hard, and took his furs off, placing them on the table. Everyone started screaming now, curses could be heard being uttered, both in the common and the Old Tongue.

"FUCK TYWIN LANNISTER! DEATH TO THE LIONS! DOWN TO THE DRAGONS (that one I did not understand, given we had just reached peace with the dragons)! ANDAL FILTH!"

He grabbed the knife and plunged it down by his shoulders, eliciting a scream. He tugged sideways towards the back's center, then downwards, and then to the side again. He did the same to the other side, then took his hands and plunged them inside Tywin's back.


Tywin was screaming himself hoarse now, not being able to handle the pain. He was crying, the Great Lion of Lannister was crying. Jon was covered in blood, his face and chest red. He was pulling back the skin now, the ribs slowly becoming visible. He placed the knife on the table, and grabbed the hammer now. He struck, and struck, and struck. Hammer blow to hammer blow, slowly he chipped away at the ribs, throwing away the bones and clearing the way to the lungs.


He was moaning now, no strength left to shout. He was sobbing uncontrollably, snot and tears streaming down his face. I had never seen a more terrifying thing in my life. Jon finished hammering his ribs and placed the hammer on the table. He took his hands and reached inside. He took out his lungs, one at a time, and threw them on the ground. The guards let go of Tywin and he immediately collapsed face first in the ground.

By now the forest seemed like it was shaking with all of the shouting that was occurring. Even Lady Lyanna had joined in the action, shouting curses which I could not understand in the Old Tongue. I was pale, but kept a strong front. My son Cregan was giving me the strength to continue watching this. Looking back at Lady Catelyn, I now understood her apprehension, I was barely managing to keep my food down. Looking to my side my Grandmother was wide-eyed, surely a reflection of my own expression.

I glanced back and now Jon had grabbed Tywin by his foot, dragging him towards the Heart Tree. He stopped in front of it and grabbed Tywin by his remaining hairs, holding his head right in front of the Heart Tree.

"Olð gods vér honor þú! protect ok leið oss um langrinn nátt! protect oss against enemies!inn Mayþessir offering satisfy þú, ok bless þú allr!"

("Old Gods we honor you! Protect and guide us through the Long Night! Protect us against the enemies! May this offering satisfy you, and bless you all!")

I saw him looking intently at Lord Tywin now, who I could notice slowly moving his lips. Jon placed the knife at one end of the neck and slid across. I saw the life leave his body, and his blood fell on top of the Weirwood roots. When he finally stopped bleeding Jon tossed the body to the side and kneeled, placing his head on the ground and praying throughout the screaming. I felt a chill go through me, the winds picking up. In the distance I could hear wolves howling and to my side I suddenly felt fur brush against me, as if comforting me to the barbarism which was occurring before me. I had never seen anything like this, yet I feared this would not be the last time I would. My son would have to do this one day. He would revel in it as my husband was in this very moment. I did not know what to think of that. For the first time in my marriage, I was questioning my involvement in this.

The ceremony was over now. The men were dispersing, yet I stayed rooted in my spot. I saw Jon walk up to the table and put his furs back on. I felt a strange attraction to him, even covered in blood as he was. He walked up to me, kissed Cregan on his forehead and took my chin in his hand, kissing me hard. We separated and I looked at him and asked him a single question.

"What… what did he tell you before you…. you killed him?"

He smiled and said Tywin Lannister's two words.

"Kill me."

"Is something wrong my wife?"

I looked back at him, though he could probably tell I was bothered by something. I smiled at him, putting on my best and answered him.

"Nothing is wrong husband, I was just lost in thought."

He furrowed his brows.

"Don't lie to me wife, something is bothering you, no matter how many flowery smiles you shoot at me. Does it have to do with the ceremony?"

I closed my eyes and sighed, seeing how pointless it would be to continue acting.

"I was….. disquieted after seeing how Lord Tywin's execution was carried out. I considered it in poor taste to conduct it as you did."

"Ah. I see. How would you have preferred it to be done? With an executioner with a mask on, with a prayer to the Seven after!?"

I tried to smile at him, but he just scowled more, seeing through my attempt to pacify him.

"Fine! Yes, I did not enjoy seeing you revel in your barbarity! You are a King! You should have not even been the one to execute him, it is beneath you! Just as it is beneath me to do so in your absence! I had to work a guillotine in your absence! I AM A QUEEN, NOT SOME COMMON SOLDIER!"

"Aye you are a Queen, IN THE NORTH! Our way is the Old Way, or did no one ever tell you how the First Men go about our business!? KINGS FIGHT WITH THEIR MEN, KILL THEIR ENEMIES, RULE THEMSELVES! QUEENS DO THE SAME!" he roared. He closed his eyes and breathed out, calming himself.

"You are a married to a Stark. Rule in the name of Starks. You are enraged you had to kill that man? You sentenced him to death. If my father taught me one thing, it's this. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. The least you could have done was kill him yourself. You need to learn this Marge, truly you do. Our son will do the same when he is grown, and so will his sons. That is the way of the North, as it has been for eight thousand years, and as it shall be for thousands of years to come. It will not change. Do you understand?"

"I do…. I just don't like it. I have my gods, my culture. It is difficult to come to terms with how different it is here."

He sighed, and took my hand in his.

"I'm not asking you to change Marge. Worship your gods, in the comfort of your chambers, and if the gods are good you shall not find yourself needing to execute a single man more. You can rage at me in private, rant and rave, but only in private. You know how precarious your position is Marge, no matter how much food your father gives us. As southern as southern gets. You must present a strong front, you understand that Marge?"

"I do husband, I do. I will endeavor to be strong, as the North needs."

He smiled at me and kissed me softly.

"You know Margeary, I quite enjoy being with you, even with our occasional spats. Thank you."

A knock on the door interrupted our moment.

"Your Grace, I bring grave news. It is of upmost importance you read this immediately."

We looked at each other in confusion, and Jon quickly took his cloak to cover himself and walked to the door opening it and opening the raven. I saw him freeze, no expression visible in his face. He spoke, no emotion in his tone.

"Maester Aemon, organize the council immediately, we go to war."

The Grandmaester nodded and walked off, ordering servants around quickly. Jon walked over to me, kissed me, and walked off, the raven he had received left in the floor. I picked it up and read it, feeling dread well up in my stomach. The Ironborn had managed to anger my husband, they would not survive to do so again.

Author's Note:

Wassup! Shit's gonna go down again. I know I was giving ya'll some slice of life type content but we're going back to action now. What do you guys think happened? I want to see if any of you have theories on what'll happen now. Thanks for reading as always, and please leave a review if you can! See you later!