R'hllor is with us, he heard. Then another voice. Melisandre is not. Justin Massey, he thought. Of course. It would be Justin, who mouthed all the words and dutifully watched all the burnings, but in the end only believed what he could see with his own eyes. And Melisandre has done things, impossible things, terrifying things, they've all seen that.
Did he wish she's here with them now? The Northmen, with their tree god, would not like it, he knew. But it is not only about dueling gods. She is a woman, a woman with terrifying powers, and for some, Northmen or not, that is more terrifying than a new and foreign god. It is not pride, he told himself, again and again. Blackwater this is not, with the lords beseeching him to leave her, else the victory would be said to be hers, rather than his. It's a delicate balancing this time – the Northmen and their god; the Wall, with his own forces marching away left unprotected, except for the few remaining Black Brothers lead by the boy commander . In the end it was her who made the decision to stay, and he had said nothing. Was he relieved? Or disappointed? He searched the flame again, and found no answer. Fool, he thought. Why would the Red God, or any god, know what is in my heart, if I do not know it myself?
They are marching through the storm, and the snow. Through the snow, and the storm. Endless, enduring, unceasing. At times he thought it was the gods mocking him. No, not R'hllor, the seven, the gods he didn't believe anymore, the ones he cast aside long before the Red God came. The storm that killed your father and your mother, and changed your life. The snow in that man's land. Because it is still his land, and his people, long dead as he may be. The man his brother loved and cherished. The man whose home he's marching to now, through the storm and the snow, the price he has to pay for the Northmen's support.
Say it, say his name, a voice whispered. Ned, he whispered back, softly, if only in his head. No, not Ned, he was never Ned to me, the way he was Ned to Robert. Lord Stark. Lord Eddard Stark. The unluckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Or maybe the luckiest. Is it better to know, or not know? The fate of your beloved wife, your cherished children. Did Ned fear for them, in that last moment before the blade fell? Of course, he thought. What man wouldn't?Did he bargain with the gods? Wrestled with his faith? Cursed his enemies? Would I?