Jon
The banners of the dancing stag within the flaming heart hung from every corner of Castle Black. It was night now and the stars hung in the air like a million white fireflies, high, high in the sky. There was a slightly chilly breeze in the air, but it wasn't anything Jon wasn't already used to. Here on the earth, men crowded the castle and were bunched up together like penned in sheep. Men, no matter if they were wildlings, King's Men, Queen's Men or Night's Watch were standing, sitting right in the yard, looking through windows or taking a place on the steps to watch the gruesome spectacle. Ser Allisar Thorne and Lord Janos were a head of him. Edd stood at his left and ghost was at his right. Many other Night's Watch men were behind him and around him. Sam and Gilly were sitting at the steps to the main hall.
The King was to the far left of him on his own horse. He wore a long, heavy, thick bear skin cape and wore an intricate chain mail armor that bore the flaming, dancing stag right on his chest. With him was his daughter Princess Shireen, his Hand the Onion knight and his wife, one of the most unattractive woman he had ever seen, Queen Selyse.
To the far right of Jon were the captured wildlings and giants that had bent the knee to King Stannis and given themselves to the Red God. They appeared frightened, cold and traumatized. These are a desperate people. Their best clothing was the ragged furs from underfed bears, mammoths, wolves and shadow cats. Their weapons nothing better than rocks strung to twigs, or at best a club or a dull sword. They seemed sullen, broken and dejected. They were all leaning on one another as none had the strength to stand straight and bear witness to what would happen next. Their cause was over, their lives were in service to a King they didn't know, fighting under a God they didn't truly accept. In a way Jon pitied them, but it wasn't like the King didn't make a fair offer. He would have them as citizens of the realm and settled on lands on The Gift if they fought for him.
In the center was a wooden platform with a solitary wooden stake in the middle. Jon was aware of the King's plan, but he had never seen a man be burned alive before. Nor did he wish to. Mance's life was forfeit the second he left the wall, and when he became King-beyond-the-wall, he had chosen to become the Night's Watch greatest enemy.
Or was he? Jon would still have occasional nightmares of the wights that attacked the Old Bear in the night, or what Sam told him about the white walkers in general. One story that Sam told him in particular about the Night King was worrying. A former member of House Stark, he was a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch until he married an Other. He gave her his seed, and she took his soul. He ruled as a sort of King until he was defeated by a champion some eight thousand years ago. No one in the Night's Watch knew very much about the Others, not even Maester Aemon who must have read countless books before he was blind. Sam must found it under a mountain of old tomes then. The Night King may be dead, but then again, everyone thought that all the Others were dead too. So much so that they had fallen out of existence and into myths and stories. But they were only sleeping, and now they're back. Jon shivered and the night felt colder in that one second of realization.
Ghost took notice of his discomfort and looked back at him, tongue lapping and reds eyes glaring. His eyes were a sizzling red. A red as bright as fresh blood, a red as bright as the flowing skirts of the Red Woman.
Who is this woman, truly? Jon had heard that she was a shadow binder from Asshai. But what did she want of Stannis? What use could he have of her? She had no blood relation to the King, she was no kin and yet they were always next to each other. Shoulder to shoulder. The Red Woman was comely however, Jon had to admit, but Stannis was too hard of a man to take a mistress. Her skin was a pale as the moon, she was thin and slender and wore a red amulet around her throat. Her frame was thin but well-shaped and her hair was done all the way to elbows and was as red as fire. Just like Ygritte's, Jon thought grimly.
The yard was alive with whispers and murmurs until the King's Squire, the Onion Lord's son, blew the trumpet. The talking ceased and the drums began to beat.
"Doom, boom, doom, boom, doom" Over and over again.
Out from the Castle Black prison came two knights of the King, and in the middle was the battered King beyond the wall. If sullenness was personified, it was him. He limped forward slowly and miserably. His head never looked up from the ground and he begrudgingly took one step at a time to his doom. He seemed thinner and much weaker than before. Captivity had not been kind to him. His hair was messy, and he was shuddering and shivering. It isn't the cold that makes him shake so much, it's the fire. He shared a quick glance with Jon and at one moment their eyes locked. A bastard and a beaten King. This is a cruel way to die. Jon knew Mance as a prideful man, a man who wouldn't give up the freedom of his people. They wanted be free. But that was a folly. The wildlings lacked discipline, proper swordsmanship, organization and morale. Only their desperation to flee from the terrors further up North had kept them together, otherwise they would all be at each other's throats. And now they had been beaten, badly. A King with a force the size of a garrison guarding a mill defeated an army of wildlings. Stannis' cavalry attack had shattered them and with no quick way to re-assemble and strike, Stannis' army cut through. And now Mance was a prisoner, a King of the Cell. A King within the Wall. A King who lost. His people were not free, not as free as they had wanted to be and he had let them down. He had failed them. But worst of all to him, he lost his wife and he could not be a father to his son. Jon could pity him there. He knew what it felt like to lose someone he loved. My father, my brothers, my sister and Ygritte. It was a painful thought.
Jon never knew how much one glance, even a brief one, could bring out so much emotion. So much sadness, so much despair. Winter is coming. Both of them had suffered. Jon was rejected and reviled as bastard in his own home and now he was reviled and rejected by some of the men here. But in Winterfell he was a bastard, now he was a man of the Night's Watch in the presence of a King. But he could not feel too much pity for the broken King beyond the wall. After all, at one point Mance Rayder was and is his enemy. Jon looked around at all the Night's Watch men. They would all be dead if it wasn't for Stannis. I would be dead if it wasn't for Stannis.
Mance was thrown to the ground in front of the King. The King whipped out Lightbringer from his scabbard.
"Look at me." King Stannis said in his dull tone.
Mance Rayder looked up at Stannis. He seemed to have aged tenfold, wrinkles and folds ruled his face. He seemed so tired, so beaten, so broken. But that was the price of defeat.
King Stannis urged his tall black destrier forward to the side of Mance Rayder. He lowered Lightbringer to Mance's throat. "I, King Stannis of the House Baratheon, the First of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm, in the sight of the Lord of Light, do hereby sentence you death by fire at the stake. Your crime is breaking your oath to the sworn order of the Night's Watch. You are guilty of desertion against the order and treason against the citizens of the realm. My realm. Before you are put to the stake, are there any last words you would like to say?"
"This realm is not yours, nor is it mine. It belongs to no one. These people have as much right to walk lands below the wall as much as you do. All we wanted was our freedom. I failed, and put my people into slavery."
"They are enslaved only to the point of loyalty, trust and obedience. Like any true man would and should me. They will do their duty to serve me when I call, and I will do mine's to protect them."
"They owe no duty to you. They kneeled only because they were afraid."
"They kneeled because I saved them."
"Yes, you saved them, but only to be used as pawns for your personal ambitions." The-King-beyond-the-wall said bitterly.
"I did save them. Everyone here knows that there is a greater threat to us here than just my rivals, who I will crush." The King said in a tone that brooked inevitability. There!" The King exclaimed raising his hand, pointing to the wall. "There, beyond this wall are our true enemies. My true enemies. Demons of ice and snow, the terrors that loom for centuries, the mythical abominations. After I sweep Westeros clean of pretenders and thieves, murderers and monsters I will ride here to the wall, with all the realm's strength and fulfill my ultimate duty. My prophecy." King Stannis responded.
He's not wrong. Mance whispered quietly to him. "I wish then, good fortune for you, in the wars to come."
The King responded without revealing any emotion on his face. He answered coolly. "It is not good fortune I need. It is the realm." And with that he gestured that his footmen pick him up from the ground and take him to the pyre where Melisandre was waiting. As the footmen were at work tying him up the Red woman began to pray loudly.
"Lord of Light! Lord of Life! We thank you for the Sun that warms us, that gives us hope! That gives us light! Let the radiance of light cleanse the land, cleanse it of darkness and cold and death! We thank you lord for your warmth and your strength that guides us and protects us! Lord of Light keep us and guard us, watch and love your faithful children. Accept this offering oh lord, a rival to our King and champion, the man born from salt and smoke, the man who brings light and hope and life to his realm, a man who is Azor Ahai reborn again! This rival is a pretender and a liar! Wildlings! Look at your King, look at the one who deceived you! There is only one God, one realm and one King! One champion with one purpose! See now what happens to those who oppose the light, who serve darkness, who deal with demons and worship false gods! Wildlings upon this demon! This enemy of the light! Keep to your champion Stannis, to your true God R'hollor! For the night is dark and full of terrors!"
"FOR THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERRORS!" The Queen's men bellowed in reply.
The red woman took the torch in her hand and the footmen walked off with Mance Rayder firmly tied to the stake. She dipped the torch into the platform. First sparks and embers, then flames. They were slithering, crawling around the beaten King. They were taunting him, flaunting his inevitable destruction. At the stake he didn't seem tired, nor sad, nor beaten nor down. He looked alive. Alert. Terrified. His brow formed a lake of sweat and his breathing was panicked. I will scatter his ashes beyond the Wall when this is over. A proper burial. It's what he would've wanted. The temperature was rising around the doomed King. He was struggling at the stake, moving frantically, anything to avoid the heat, the pain. The stake rattled and shook, he wished to break free. To escape the searing pain. Jon saw Mance's sister in law Val in the crowd. She was crying hysterically. He had enough. The flames had touched every part of the platform, but the King, and now they were leaping towards him like a lion after their prey. His feet were burning from under him, he let out a horrific shriek. Jon felt wrong to disobey the King, especially one who he owed his life to, but he had to defy him. Just once. Just this one time. Thinking quickly, Jon slipped away from Edd and Ghost and from the rest of the men, crept over to a weapon's rack, picked up a bow and some arrows, held his breathe, took his aim and fired. Sparing the King-beyond-the-wall from pain. Mance's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the tail end of the arrow out from his chest and blood trickle from his wound, he closed his eyes as the fire engulfed him. Jon closed his eyes as well and breathed out in relief. Jon did not even think to look at Stannis, nor the Red Woman, the Queen or his Onion Lord.
The fire convulsed and sizzled, fused within itself, moving and twisting like a creature. It spread itself over the dead King. The red of the flames sparked and sizzled crunching and devouring its prey. The mighty blaze let out its roar. The Queen's men bellowed in their devotion to the might of the fire. "Rhollor!" or "Lord of Light!" "Vanquish the Darkness!" were common cries of adoration amongst the group.
The wildlings were still as a frightened fawn and quiet as a mouse. Never had Jon seen a group of people so tired, so hopeless.
Some men of the Night's Watch nodded their heads in approval at the fire. Jon could understand that, many men suffered or knew others who had suffered from the wildlings. Mance was a symbol of their villainy, Jon supposed. Jon turned over his left shoulder where the normally displeased, unimpressed and generally unpleasant facial expressions of Ser Allisar and his lap-dog, the renowned, former, commander of the city watch Janos Slynt looked back at him. Jon had not forgotten the abuse he had taken from the two. He had not forgotten how Ser Allisar had called him a traitor's bastard the day his father was captured, or when the both conspired to have him killed for desertion. They had locked him in an ice cell and tried to force him to murder a man under a banner of peace, under the tent where his own wife was birthing his only son. And Janos Slynt…the man who helped murder his father. Jon had a hatred for him too. But as loath as he was to admit it, they were both men of the Night's Watch, his brothers.
Jon averted his stare and looked over his right shoulder to see Bowen Marsh staring intently into the fire. Jon turned his head to the stairs to Sam and Gilly and the babe. They all seemed uneasy and scared.
Meanwhile Val had fainted to the ground and had been carried by the Onion lord back to her quarters.
The fire paid none of them any mind, it crackled loudly, bellowing like some hell beast. It ballooned and roared at the wildings, the flaming stag banners, the Night's Watch, the King's Men and the Queen's men. The fire cast its eerie red light on them, all of them. Jon saw the red light cover Melisandre making her formerly pale-moon white skin seemed every bit as scarlet as the skirts she wore. She looked so red in fact that it seemed like she was a woman sculpted out of magma. The red light bathed Queen Selyse as well as she sat back on her steed with her eyes closed and her hairy lips curled up in a smile. She seemed to enjoy every minute of the spectacle. Shireen was at her father's side caked in the fire red light. She seemed particularly terrified of the fire as the tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was shaking in her saddle. Finally Jon shared a long and hard glance with King Stannis as well. The red light had not spared him either. From the hoof of his horse to the top of his crown, Stannis was overcome with the red light. His glare at Jon was unyielding, grim and cold. Jon's was the same, except on the inside he felt like he was made of jelly instead of Stark. Jon couldn't tell if the King was angry, only that the King would not shift the stare from him and that he did not blink. They stared and stared and stared until finally Stannis sheathed his magic sword, patted his daughter's head in an oddly soft manner, nodded curtly at Jon and wheeled his horse away from the fiery platform. Jon shared another gaze with Melisandre until she mounted and rode away and then Jon shared another gaze with the great red beast itself. He felt stronger than the fire monster. I am the son of Eddard Stark, a man of the Night's Watch and I have the blood of the North. The fire answered with a bellow, as if to mock Jon's confidence. Ghost could sense his unease again. But there was no need to fear. It was just fire. Or was it? But suddenly he felt uneasy, at first he did not know why. But then he noticed that the red light was covering him as well, bathing him in scarlet and heat.