Stannis found himself standing alone at the edge of the Wall, brooding where he had just won a great battle. The great green forest beyond, burned in the greatest fire the North had ever seen.
"You know, Your Grace, I've never been this far north, but it's a beautiful sight," Ser Davos huffed, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "That man Mance was right. We're not dressed for this weather."
The man who refuses to bend the knee to the rightful king. He had to admire Mance Rayder though. He was a man who stuck to his principles even when it would get him killed. Much like Ned Stark. An honorable man.
Stannis would have Mance burned, as a reminder who was King of the Seven Kingdoms. The Red Priestess told me of king's blood. Mance is a king, a false one, but a king nonetheless. His blood was powerful and so was the blood of his son. He had faced this dilemma before.
What's one child against a kingdom? Davos had disobeyed him, sending Edric Storm to Essos. He would have put Davos head beneath a headsman's ax, but he didn't. For everything, Davos had taught him one thing, what Stannis had taught his onion knight all those years before.
Go on, do your duty. His duty was to the realm. He had sought to win the throne in order to save the kingdoms when he should be trying to save the kingdoms in order to win the throne. His duty was to win back the North, to reclaim it from the traitors who had plunged their daggers into Robb Stark's heart. To win it back from the ironborn invaders.
"Your Grace," and he turned, Melisandre, that damned sorceress who was both his greatest weapon and his greatest weakness. "The Bastard of Winterfell."
Jon Snow was a brooding man, much like Stannis himself. His black cloak signified his allegiance to the Night's Watch, but the pommel on his sword was a stone direwolf, to remind him of his Stark origin. A bastard but more Stark than any trueborn son of Ned Stark's. He had seen him once before, at a festival celebrating the defeat of the Greyjoy Rebellion. A sullen and sulking child of ten.
A bastard who was the last living son of Ned Stark. A bastard who could give him the North.
The bastard knelt. At least Jon Snow knew who the rightful king of Westeros was and did his duty. No doubt he will spurn my offer. But I must make it. He waited a few moments before he signaled for Jon to rise, who did. Taking a few steps closer to Jon, he spoke.
"Do you know who rules at Winterfell now?" he asked and Jon Snow grimaced. His face showed pain, anger, and hatred. Good.
"Roose Bolton."
The answer was lined with a silent and cold fury, much like the Starks themselves. Too bad that fury had been snuffed out.
"The traitor who plunged his dagger into Robb Stark's heart. Do you want to avenge him?"
Jon kept his face neutral and Stannis knew how much self-control that took. He had wanted vengeance for his brother as well, for what little love he had for him. A duty to avenge his brother, who was made a motley fool by the Lannister woman who had made fools out of all of them.
"I want a great many things, Your Grace. But I am a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. We don't take part in the politics of the realm."
A stubborn man. Reminds me of his father. And myself. Stannis allowed a ghost of a smile to appear on his face before he promptly squashed it like a bug. Davos was far better at speaking to people than he had ever been, but he never used honeyed words. A common man raised to a knighthood and then to Hand of the King. A good act does not wash out the bad nor the bad the good. A saying his father had said to him long ago.
A saying that had been applicable to his actions. Renly. King's Landing. Ser Axell. Burnings, repudiations of faith from the Gods he no longer worshipped, and the death of his younger brother. My hands are clean. His conscience wasn't.
Ser Davos spoke, his Flea's Bottom accent never going away. A common reminder of his origin and how Stannis felt about the aristocracy.
"I've been talking to your sworn brothers. Many of them love you."
That seemed to please Jon Snow. "They're good men."
"Many of them don't."
Jon Snow's small smile turned into a frown. Stannis knew the fickleness of loyalty. I held Storm's End against the might of the Reach for an entire year and won the Greyjoy Rebellion for Robert. And yet the Stormlands still raised my brother as king. Many saw Jon Snow as a hero for taking command of the Wall's defenses after Ser Alliser Thorne's injuries.
Many saw him as a traitor for taking a wildling girl into bed when he was with said wildings. Many didn't know what to think.
"You were seen taking a wildling girl's body north of the Wall. Why?" Ser Davos pressed and Jon Snow was quiet, his mind turning.
"It's where she belonged."
"Some in the Night's Watch feel you have too much affection for the wildlings."
Just as many feel that I have too much affection for Lady Melisandre. That was true. He did, more than he had for his own wife. I sullied my oaths of love and marriage just like you sullied yours to take no wife, Lord Snow.
"They were born on the wrong side of the wall. Doesn't make them monsters."
No. It did not. The wildlings were people as well and were against the only enemy that mattered. Demons. Made of ice and death. They march on the Wall. But first, the business of dealing with Roose Bolton and his ilk.
"No matter. I will take back the North from the thieves who stole it," Stannis declared. It didn't matter that Robb Stark had tried to steal half of his kingdom. He was dead. So was the dream of an independent North. "Tywin Lannister is dead, he can't protect them now. I will mount Roose Bolton's head on a spike. But if I'm to take Winterfell, I will need more men."
And there laid the problem. Stannis had ample cavalry and a strong fleet. But he lacked soldiers. Infantrymen and archers. He had four thousand men, most of them Stormlanders and the few remaining houses of the Narrow Sea. Velaryon. Bar Emmon. Roose Bolton could call upon his own men, who had done little fighting in the south, along with the Karstarks and the Dustins.
The major houses - Manderly, Mormont, Umber, Glover- were unaligned. Deepwood Motte was still under control of the ironborn. But there was one source of men that was available to him then and now.
"The men of the Night's Watch are sworn to take no-"
Stannis harshly interrupted him.
"I'm not talking about the damned Night's Watch. I'm talking about the wildlings."
That left Jon Snow speechless. Stannis took some pleasure in leaving the sullen bastard silent and he walked past him, the snow drifting onto his cape. It was cold, too damn cold in the North. He wondered if he had grown up here would he even be colder and more distant than he already was?
"Your Grace," Jon Snow said, flabbergasted. He had marched and cut off Stannis from walking to the cage that brought people and supplies up and down on the Wall. "You want the wildings to march in your army?"
"If they swear to follow me, I'll pardon them. Once we take Winterfell and the North is won, I'll declare them citizens of the realm. I'll give them land to live on."
Pardon, forgive, but never forget. The wildlings were fierce fighters, invaders, and raiders. But the true enemy, the only one that mattered, lingered in their lands and he needed all the warriors he could get. Bolton was a menace, that was true, but he was just that. A menace. He could deal with menaces.
Not with the undead.
"It's a fair deal," Ser Davos backed him, as he always did. "More than fair."
"I offer them their lives and their freedom. If Mance kneels before me and swears his loyalty."
"I don't think that's likely."
Stannis grinded his teeth before moving past Jon Snow towards the cage. Snow kept up with him, disbelief wide in his eyes and movement.
"You admire him don't you?" Stannis accused and Jon Snow didn't deny it.
"I respect him."
"Convince him to bend the knee."
Jon tried to protest. "Your Grace-"
"Or he burns."
He then walked past Snow again, this time without the bastard son of Ned Stark blocking his way. Lady Melisandre stayed where she was, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the whole ordeal. Damned eyes. Ser Davos looked with understanding eyes at Jon Snow's plight.
"How much time do I have?" Jon yelled after he had left.
"Nightfall," Stannis answered, descending down the cage. "The sun drops fast this time of year. Hurry Jon Snow."
Would Mance bend the knee? Not likely. But the man was smart and maybe he would see reason. After all, Jon Snow admired him and Mance had stopped the fighting. My people have bled enough. Maybe he wouldn't have to be burned. Just maybe.
Mance Rayder made the dumbest decision a smart man like him could make. Instead of bending the knee and fighting in his army, the King Beyond the Wall had spurned his offer. Sometimes he wondered if Robert made the offer, the once brother of the Night's Watch would have taken it.
I will offer one more chance to bend the knee and serve me.
Night had fallen and the men were gathering in the courtyard of Castle Black. Many brothers of the Night's Watch, the few remaining elders of the wildlings who hadn't escaped his men, and even that wildling princess. She was comely and as fierce as they come. His own men, the prancing stag surrounded by flames. The black cloaks and he saw his wife as well.
"She's already killed one of our men and castrated another," one of his knights had complained to him just before the burning.
"They deserved it," Stannis had simply replied. He had responded to his men trying to 'steal' this woman by posting two of his most trustworthy knights, which meant he sent men that weren't complete dunces. Ser Richard Horpe, who was more concerned with killing than women, and Ser Godry Farring the 'Giantslayer' who was too busy trying to regale the beautiful Val by boasting of killing a giant than to attempt anything.
The giant was running away, you twat. He put aside his thoughts as the torches flickered. The place where Mance was to be burned was ready, right in the middle of the courtyard for all to see. Snow had talked to the man but had not told Stannis if he would bend the knee or not.
The surrounding torches gave him light, seeing Mance walk down the steps from his place of captivity. His men were behind him, guiding him to his final destination. His posture was proudful, filled with defiance. Stannis could see why Jon Snow admired the man.
Lady Melisandre was gazing into the flames, her eyes dancing. Stannis felt that she was always at home with fire more than anything else. Burnings of men and false Gods. Did he believe in the Lord of Light and that he was Azor Ahai? Sometimes, in his dreams, he wielded Lightbringer and he would face the Great Other and win. Others he died on the Wall. Forgotten.
All he knew was that her faith gave her power, more power than the Seven ever granted. She had birthed a shadow which had killed Renly and Ser Cortnay Penrose. I dream and my hands are filled with blood. I wake and my hands are clean. But they never were truly clean of his brother's murder.
The chains rattled. Stannis glanced up to see Mance Rayder slowly approaching him, the wildling king taking in the sight of the flames that would soon engulf the imprisoned leader if he did not bend the knee to Stannis. The chains and the man stopped and Stannis smirked slightly.
Bend the knee or not, he is admirable. But Westeros only had one king. And his name was Stannis Baratheon.
"Mance Rayder, you have been called King Beyond the Wall. Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee and I promise you mercy."
And if Mance did bend the knee, he would do more than that. He would have given the wildlings the Gift to settle and make Mance the head of a new house. House Rayder. But more likely than not, the man would refuse and he would go to the flames.
Mance's eyes wandered to the widling leaders behind Stannis. They were filled with uncertainty and a war began to rage. Should he bend the knee and shred his pride and honor, or refuse and stick to his principles? Stannis had once asked that question before as well.
Blood or honor. When Robert had rebelled and Stannis had to truly wonder...should he honor his oath to King Aerys? Every man, woman, and child owed the king their loyalty and leal service, but there are older and deeper laws. The younger bows before the elder. Laws that Renly had broken.
Men fought for Robb Stark and believed he was King in the North. Men fought for Joffrey and believed him the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. But men fought for Renly knew he had no claim to the throne.
"Kneel and live."
Avoid the fate of Renly. Ser Cortnay. Robb Stark. The man they called the King Beyond the Wall proved to be as stubborn as Lord Snow. To be as honorable as Ned Stark.
"This is was my home once. I spent many years here before I went beyond the wall on a ranging. I was attacked by wildlife and left for dead by my brothers, but a Free Folk woman nursed me back to life and fixed my black cloak with colors. It was so beautiful that cloak, with the colors of the rainbow. It reminded me of life itself, a life I couldn't have," Mance Rayder said with a sad gleam in his eyes. "When I came back from beyond the wall, Ser Denys Mallister told me to get rid of the cloak. That's when I abandoned my oath to the night's Watch."
Stannis began to grind his teeth. He didn't want to hear a story about how a man had abdicated in his duty to the realm. Who had so carelessly thrown away his oaths as if they were scraps off Robert's plate. He admired Mance and could see how Lord Snow had abandoned his oath to the Night's Watch when he had relations with that young wildling girl.
The one that he had burned.
"You sullied your oaths to the realm and tried to invade with an army," Stannis pointed out. "You will die if you do not bend the knee."
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come King Stannis. You will need it, especially in the North. They may not be the free folk, but they are fierce and independent in their own right."
Stannis knew he had made his decision. He nodded and Ser Corliss Penny and Ser Clayton Suggs roughly took both of Mance's arms towards the pyre. There, he would burn. He looked past them and saw Lady Melisandre. The fires were bringing warmth into her heart he knew. Let him burn.
"We all must choose. Men and women, young and old, we all have a choice. We choose light or we choose darkness," Lady Melisandre began, her voice a serenade for the flames. He stole a glance at his wife and daughter. Selyse was basking in the flames and in the heat, her eyes closed. But he saw how frightened Shireen was. Her eyes are afraid. "We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true God or the false."
She then took the torch from a Dragonstone men at arms and approached the pyre. Stannis's eyes met Mance's own. His eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty, but the knowledge that he was going to die.
"Free folk. There is only true king," The damned sorceress lit the pyre in two different locations, the farthest she could from Mance. She turned to the gathered crowd, her eyes reflected in the torch's light. "And his name is Stannis Baratheon. Not this king of lies. Behold those who choose the darkness."
Not a liar, truth be told. An oath-breaker, but I sullied my wedding oaths with you, Stannis thought darkly. And he didn't choose the darkness. He chose his freedoms and that damned honor, as little honor an oathbreaker like me and him have, and he will die for that freedom.
The fires began to spread, quicker than Stannis thought it would. They were soon licking at the feet of the Mance and he could see that the man was beginning to panic. It was sometimes not that apparent, that something would not happen until it was already happening. He could see the wide smile that Lady Melisandre was currently wearing, while he continued to hold the mask of stoicism he was known for. Burning is a horrible way to die. So is drowning at sea. His father and mother knew that all too well.
What he could not see was Jon Snow's reaction. The bastard son of Ned Stark was nowhere to be seen, but his presence was soon felt. The flames were engulfing Mance Rayder, his screams echoing throughout the courtyard, when an arrow came slicing through the air and embedded itself in the would be king's heart. Mance looked down, his eyes filled with surprise, before they rolled back and he died.
Jon Snow's hand had a bow in it and he tossed it on the ground, walking away. Stannis could almost hear the relief coming from the wildling leaders and the madness coming from his wife. When I march on Winterfell, I will not bring my wife. Lady Melisandre already made it clear she would stay here and face the evils beyond the Wall.
And he promised himself that he would not leave his daughter in the hands of his wife. She was his heir and the last living trueborn Baratheon besides himself. He would have to teach her to rule for she would one day sit upon the Iron Throne. He resolved himself to not allow his daughter, his sweet and innocent daughter, be lead to break her oaths or commit the evils he had to do.
She would learn her duty to the realm. And he would do his duty to her. A father's duty, a duty he had neglected in his duties to the realm. He whirled around, his cape following him, trailed by two of his knights. The body of the now dead wildling king continued to burn and so did Stannis's passion to end this war and face the only enemy that mattered.
AN: I really liked how Season 5 of Game of Thrones expanded the relationship between Stannis and Shireen in a way that the books haven't covered. I also didn't like how they basically gave Jon Snow Stannis's storyline and how Stannis didn't do anything like his book equivalent did. So we're gonna blend show and book together, throw out some parts that don't make sense, but really continue to explore and deepen the relationship between the two.
Scenes to come: Stannis's "I'm the world's best gruff dad" moment which will have expanded dialogue and more interactions, Stannis telling off Selyse, and him meeting Lyanna Mormont with Shireen and Ser Davos by his side. Also, the mountain clans. Apparently DD forgot that there's two thousand men in the mountains that Jon Snow could have gotten in season six, but whatever.
You can find this fic at Archives of Our Own as well under my name ej3467273.