Ygritte stared with cold bitterness as they brought the King-Beyond-the-Wall. He had his hands tied with ropes and a noose around his slender neck. They had brought her, Frenya, Taught by Waves and the other survivors of Castle Black outside to kneel for the new king and play in his mummur's show.
They and another thousand freezing captives watched helplessly through the wooden bars in their cages as Mance was brought towards pyre. No one wept, no one grieved. It was not the free folk way. Mance was a hero and a king and he would not have wanted them to show weakness now in the face of extinction.
"We all must choose," said the pale woman dressed in red robes. Her voice was deep, and she held her hands towards the air. "Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false."
We choose to be born on the wrong side of the Wall, as well? The bitch queen knew nothing of life beyond the Wall. She could preach all she wanted. A southern kneeler like her had never had it hard.
As Mance stepped towards the pyre, she saw a boldness in his eyes, but it faltered when he approached the cage above the pyre in which he would be burned. "No," he cried, "mercy. This is not right, I'm not the king, they -" The knight pulled him forward by the rope as a shadow of sorrow hung over the free folk spectators. In his fear, Mance had tried to deny his kingship.
She had not meant to be watching the burning - she wouldn't give the kneelers the satisfaction - but had been forced to do so. She had told herself she would pay the last piece of respect for the king, a rarity in her lifetime, but her bravery dwindled the closer he approached the cage.
"Free folk! Here stands your king of lies. And here is the horn he promised would bring down the Wall." Two knights brought forth the Horn of Joramun, the horn King Joramun blew and woke up the giants from the earth. Mance had said it would bring down the Wall. A shame for the free folk he didn't blew it, even if it would have meant Ygritte's death.
"The Horn of Joramun? No. Call it the Horn of Darkness. If the Wall falls, night falls as well, the long night that never ends. It must not happen, will not happen! The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn." She pointed at the man standing next to her, the southern king. He wore grey plate, a fur-trimmed cloak of cloth-of-gold flowing from his broad shoulders. His face was hard as stone. Mance's wife's blonde-haired sister stood beside him. Ygritte didn't know her name, but the kneelers seemed to think she was too important to be caged with the rest of her people. It was probably because of her beauty – the king had taken her as his new wife; a trophy. She wore a bronze circlet and an ermine cloak, and the men kept watching her with hungry eyes - except for Jon.
He stood for himself in his dark clothes in the dark shadows with a sorrow on his face. If he was proud of himself, he didn't show it. Was this truly what he had wanted? To see Mance burn, the free folk starving and locked in cages? She stared hard at him and whenever their eyes would meet, he swiftly looked away.
"Free folk!" the king's red queen shouted again as if needed to remind herself whom she speaking to them. Ygritte had no idea what she was talking about. Who was Azor Ahai? Was he reborn? Wasn't the southern king's name Stannis Baratheon? "Behold the fate of those who choose darkness!"
She tossed the Horn of Joramun into the flames. They had spent years trying to find it, the legendary relic of their people. Even if they somehow could have got to the horn from the crows and call Tormund and his host to free them, their chances were now gone. The surrounding free folk let out a moan. "Damn you!" Ygritte cursed.
Inside his cage, Mance fought desperately to free himself and screamed incoherently of treachery. He denied his own kingship, his own people, his own name and everything he had ever been. It stung in her heart - had he always been a crow? Like Jon? She did not look away and watched as he burned
Suddenly, five crows unleashed arrows from their bows. Ygritte gasped as one arrow pierced Mance's neck while another took his chest. Frenya screamed. The free folk watched silently as their king died. Then the flames took him.
"The Lord of Light made the sun and moon and stars to light our way and gave us fire to keep the night at bay," the red queen sung. "None can withstand his flames."
"None can withstand his flames," the stag knights echoed in a terrifying manner.
The queen's red robes swirled about her, and her coppery hair made a halo round her face. Tall yellow flames danced from her fingertips like claws. "Free folk! Your false gods cannot help you. Your false horn did not save you. Your false king brought you only death, despair, defeat … but here stands the true king. Behold his glory!"
The southern king drew his sword. It glowed red and yellow and orange, as if it had been forged of sunlight. It shone so brightly Ygritte had to cover her eyes. She felt Taught by Waves latch onto her arm in fear.
"Westeros has but one king," he said harshly, "with this sword I defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. Bend the knee, and I promise you food, land and justice. Kneel and live. Or go and die. The choice is yours."
The evil king slipped the sword into its scabbard, and Castle Black was once again as black as it used to be. When choosing between kneeling and dying, what choice is there, Ygritte asked herself He wasn't giving them a real choice. He was only threatening them to submit. "Open the gates."
"Open the gates!" shouted a deep-voiced crow. "Open the gates!" a choir of crows echoed.
"Come. Come to the light… or run back into the darkness," said the queen. "If you choose life, come to me."
The stockade was opened. The first free folk moved out in slow suspicion, wary if this was a trap. Ygritte watched in cold anger as her fellow raiders, the people she considered her brothers and sisters, so willingly threw their freedom away.
"We should go too," said Taught by Waves in a low voice, "I'm hungry and it's freezing."
"Freedom is warmer than fire. Don't you see? They are forcing us t' submit. This is not a choice," Ygritte protested.
"Then I will use the freedom o' choosing to live another day," Frenya said as she joined their little circle. "Ygritte, you have to. They'll kill you if you don't. Don't throw your life away."
"I don't have t' do anything."
"You'd rather hang than kneel for some king for a short moment? Those who kneel rise again."
Ygritte crossed her arms as more and more free folk exited the pit and knelt in the dirt before the evil king outside. "I won't kneel."
Frenya shook her head. "You're too stubborn." Then she left.
"Don't go," Ygritte begged Taught by Waves. "It's some kind of trap. They'll stuff us full o' arrows as soon as we go out."
The Frozen Shore girl looked at her with misery in her eyes. "I don't want t' die, Ygritte. It's only kneeling for a little while."
Ygritte scowled.
She stuck out her hand. "Come with me. Please."
Only a few days ago, Ygritte had miraculously survived the battle at Castle Black. Perhaps she should have died there. Maybe it was the gods' way of telling her this was her second chance for a honourable death. To end it the way a free woman should; unbent and unkneeling.
Then she saw a young woman with a child on either hand stumble to safety. She heard a sea of children crying. A small babe tucked to his mother's chest. She realized the choice was not hers alone. She carried life inside herself, a babe whose life she could not forsake. She may have liked to die with her pride still intact but she could not force that decision on her unborn child. She took a deep breath, then grabbed Frozen Shore's girl hand and followed. Gods have mercy on her.
Outside of the cage, she watched the chiefs kneel before the new king. Sigorn of the Thenns, Rattleshirt and several lesser leaders. Krakal and Ovan of the Hornfoots, the old wisewoman of the Milkwater, Halleck, and Alfyn Crowkiller's son. Crowkisser, more likely. They didn't have children they needed to live for. They were mere cravens, throwing their freedom away for the promise of a warm meal. With shame and humiliation, Ygritte bent her knee along with the rest of her people.
The tunnel through the Wall was narrow and twisting, and many of the free folk were old or ill or wounded, so the going was painfully slow. None of the giants followed and neither did the sick. By the time Ygritte and Taught by Waves were finally through the tunnel, the Frozen Shore girl wanted to go and find Frenya. Ygritte sighed and followed.
Later that night when they had eaten their onion soup, they were sent to their chambers. Unlike the new captives, who had the pleasure of sleeping in hay stacks, the free folk prisoners from the first battle at Castle Black could keep their sleeping quarters. When dusk swept over Castle Black, the spearwife found herself restless. She arose from her sleep skin and wandered through Castle Black's silent trails.
It was against Rowan's orders to go outside after dark, but his orders meant as little to Ygritte as the kneeling she had done before the king. There were a few crows roaming but the spearwife was surely half a shadowcat and managed to move on a prowl in the snow unseen. She had no destination, following only her own melancholic thoughts and the stars above her head. Maybe she would visit Shieldhall. She loved watching the colourful animals the shields displayed.
On her way to the old building, she scouted a dark figure standing alone in the end of the yard. He was looking forwards a tall, round building; the King's Tower. It was Jon.
She decided to sneak up on him. "Whatcha' looking at?"
Her crow husband jumped. He looked at her for the first time since they have spoken in the ice cell. "Hello, Ygritte. I was just thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself."
Jon smiled sadly. "I need to do a lot of thinking these days. I am Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now."
"Please, don't remind me." Ygritte threw her red hair over her shoulder. "You don't expect me t' kneel for you too, do you?"
"No. That won't be necessary. I tried to convince King Stannis not to make the free folk kneel but he wouldn't listen."
No wonder Jon loved the king. He was probably ready to take his cock as much as any other kneeler was. Ygritte snorted and clenched her fist. "I hate that man. Why you kneelers accept to bow for some tyrant because his father was king is beyond me."
"It was his brother who was king," Jon said the peaceful way he did when he sensed her anger. "Stannis may not be as charismatic or as great as singer as Mance Rayder, but he wants to help your people."
"As long as we kneel for him."
"Yes. But that's still more than any other king in Westeros would do. Most other people in the Seven Kingdoms would rather see you hanged."
The only praise Jon had for Stannis was the fact that he was 'not as terrible as the rest'. Ygritte slowly began to understand why the kneelers were all so miserable. They would accept to walk their lives in chains if only the chains weren't slightly as tight as the other another man's ropes. Then a life in submission could be all jolly and good. "I won't want to walk in chains my whole life, Jon Snow."
"I know, Ygritte. But you aren't beyond the Wall any longer. We have laws here."
"I don't want laws."
Jon scratched his chin. "Sometimes laws are good. They defend the weak from the strong."
"You know nothing, Jon Snow. The weak should die if they cannot defend themselves. Such is nature."
"In the nature beyond the Wall, yes. But you must accept where you are. People who own less are not necessarily going to die if they have someone protecting them. They harvest the lands for the lord who in return gives them safety. It's… it's like a circle."
"It's a prison. Why would they be satisfied with harvesting crops for a lord they might never see? What if they want to be lords and kings themselves?"
Jon sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you, Ygritte."
They stood silently in the night with the snow falling gently on their heads. The last time they had been here, they had been fighting. Ygritte had killed many of his crow brothers and Jon had likely decreased a good portion of the free folk himself. He had been one of them, Ygritte thought, but not really. Jon had always been a crow. He was loyal. Not to her, not to their child, but he was loyal to his black brothers. Perhaps it was time to bury the ill will. She took a deep breath. "Jon, I understand why you did what you did."
He looked at her with surprise. "You do?"
"Yes. But what you did… It hurt me," she said.
"I know," Jon nodded, "and I know it say it too much, but I truly am sorry."
Ygritte nodded silently. She wished he would show her how sorry he was instead of telling her. She leaned against one of the castle's dark stone walls. "Why are you out here by yourself anyway?"
"As I said, I am thinking," Jon said and then smiled, "which reminds me, you're not allowed to be out here."
The spearwife laughed and punched his arm. "Fuck off."
Her crow husband laughed along but then a solemn look appeared on his face. "I sent Sam away to learn the ways of a maester in the south," he sighed, "I'm going to send my friends Halder and Toad to Ser Denys Mallister's garrison at the Shadow Tower and Pyp and Grenn to Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch by the Sea."
"That is a bad idea, Jon. Don't send your friends away."
"I'm sending them away precisely because they are my friends. My father taught me a lord should not be friends with the men he commands. He may have to sit in judgement on them or send them out to die one day. The time has come for me to let the man be born."
"You already are much a man, Jon Snow, I can swear on that." She smirked but then turned serious. "Listen t' me, this is a folly. I have heard t' things the other crows say about you. Things they wouldn't say when you or your friends are there. They dislike you, some even hate you, for letting us through t' gates."
He crossed his arms. "You say they are conspiring against me?"
"What's 'conspire' mean?"
"They are planning to stab me in the back?" Jon looked concerned. "Ygritte, if you are trying to turn me on my own brothers then-"
"I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is; you are not as liked as you might like to think. They will hate you more when they learn you have fathered a little wildling bastard," the spearwife said. She absolutely didn't care if their child would be considered a bastard by kneeler laws.
"You can't tell anyone."
"Oh, can't I?" she laughed, "I can do as I please."
His voice was pained and frantic. "Ygritte, I beg of you: no one must know. The Watch least of all."
"Mmm, how hard are you willing to beg, Jon Snow?" she asked and stepped closer to him, her voice as sweet as honey, "I like a good, hard begging."
He looked over his shoulder. "We can't."
"Suit yourself," she said as she began to walk away, "I hope your crows won't be feeling too sullen when they learn their Lord Crow will be having little crowlings."
As she was about to leave, Jon grabbed her arm. "Ygritte! Wait," he said in a hushed voice.
She looked at him with complacent smirk.
"Only once, you understand?" Jon's eyes begged.
She turned back and started to walk.
"Alright, more than once. As many times as you'd like!"
The spearwife let out a sinister chuckle. "That's better."
Careful not to be seen by any late-night patrols, the odd couple sneaked their way through Castle Black's yard. To Ygritte sneaking came as natural to her as anything else and Jon's black cloak helped him move unseen through the night.
When they entered a building through a small door, they practically fell onto the floor. Thankfully, it was empty and concealed in darkness. Jon fell first, and Ygritte landed on top of him. She held him down. "You are mine, Jon Snow, and I'm yours. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't," he uttered helplessly.
She forced her mouth onto his.
Some time later, Ygritte pulled her fur trousers up around her waist. She could feel Jon's seed leaking out of her soreness. They were both drenched in sweat the air smelled heavy around them.
"You're a fool," she told him flatly as he fastened his black cloak to his shoulders. "They'll find out what you did when our child is born."
He simply nodded.
The spearwife looked at him. "Tell them it isn't yours."
Again, he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I won't. No child should grow up not knowing their parents."
She somehow wanted to beat him for making her feel bad about what she had forced him to do. Why did he have to make it so hard for her to hate him?
They said their farewells and went separate ways.
The following day, when she had finished refuelling the castle's many fires, Ygritte met with Frenya and Taught by Waves behind a small woodshed away from the crows' watchful eyes. This had become their primary meeting spot, safe from Rowan's shouts and commands. Ygritte was not angry with Frenya for kneeling and the older woman didn't seem to hold any ill will towards her stubbornness either. She hadn't told the two other spearwives how she was the new Crow Lord's wife or that she carried his child. They would mark her as a naive, love-sick girl who couldn't see through a crow's lies or worse yet, a traitor
She was munching on a fresh apple stolen from the kitchen and telling her friends of how she had climbed the Wall and seen to the world's end. She noticed Taught by Waves and Frenya grew silent. Ygritte turned around to see the red queen approaching them. She was accompanied by four steel-clad knights.
The queen's voice was soft and deep. "Ygritte?"
"That's me," she said with hostility. She spit a piece of apple on the ground.
"I come on behalf of King Stannis Baratheon. He would speak with you."
What would the southern king want of her? Ygritte didn't like it. How could she burn their king and then expect her to follow her like a pup?
"I don't wanna speak t' nobody."
The red queen nodded to the knights. They stepped forward and grabbed her by the arms. The spearwife tried to wrestle herself free. "Let go o' me!" she protested. When Taught by Waves and Frenya tried to rescue her, the knights pushed them into the dirt.
Ygritte was dragged across the yard with two knights holding her under each shoulder. She felt the stares from crows, knights and free folk alike and slowly ended her protesting. The queen walked in front of them, seemingly unbothered. She noticed the graceful way the queen moved about, very much unlike her own striding way of walking.
They brought her to the King's Tower. During her stay at Castle Black, she had only entered the common halls and the sleeping quarters. To go - or rather to be dragged - up the steps of the spiral staircase made her realize just how queer the kneelers' buildings were compared to her people's.
She was brought through an iron-studded oak door and thrown onto the floor. There was a chair standing in front of a table in the middle of the room with a man sitting in opposite chair behind it. The king who burnt Mance, she told herself. He was a large man with a dark, short-cropped beard. Atop of his bald, shining head rested a crown with fingers resembling flames.
Ygritte swaggered towards the table and slouched into the empty chair. She half-expected the man to talk to her but he seemed more concentrated on writing with his letter. Finally, the king looked up from the paper. He seemed displeased. "Ygritte. The wildling."
She didn't say anything.
"Lord Commander Snow told me about you. He told me he broke his vows with you somewhere beyond the Wall. It's a dangerous crime for a man of the Night's Watch to break his vows. Even more dangerous to be the one tempting him."
"Is that why you forced me here?" Ygritte asked, "t' give me a scolding?"
The king squinted his eyes. "You will speak to me with proper respect, girl. I am the king of Westeros."
"You're a man who burns other men!"
"And you shall follow if you talk back to me again."
Ygritte shut her mouth. The king continued in a stern voice.
"Mance Rayder had a choice. He chose to burn. Each man, woman and child are presented with choices in their lives. The most important choice is the choice of will. The willingness to obey or the choice surrender to one's inner senses. Mance Rayder chose the latter. Don't make the same mistake, girl" the king snorted. "Have you been informed why I had you brought here?"
The spearwife shook her head.
"I am beginning my campaign against the wretched ironborn and the traitors of House Bolton. Both forces have infected the North like a disease. But once I've driven those serpents from the land, I'll need a lord to rule it. A loyal lord of Winterfell. I do have not the resources nor the time do it myself - and the northern lords do not know me."
"You mean to make Jon Snow the Lord of Winterfell."
The king nodded. "He told you?"
"He tells me things," Ygritte responded.
"That's the reason you were brought here."
Was she going to be punished? For taking the maidenhead of his new Lord of Winterfell before a southern lady could bring him to her silk-covered flower bed?
"Jon Snow refuses my offer. He told me he swore not to hold any lands and to father no children. However, there may be a way to convince him to reconsider," the king turned his page, "you are common-born, a lowly raider and a wildling at that, but I should think if I allowed Jon Snow to take you as his wife he would-"
"I am his wife!" Ygritte protested.
A knight with a flying pig on his tabard slapped her so hard across the face she felt it ringing in her ears. When she touched her hurting nose, her fingers were red with blood.
The king stared at her coldly. He grinded his teeth. "You and Jon Snow are not wed. Whatever your savage customs say beyond the Wall are no concern to me. When I presented him the hand of this princess Val, he denied me as well. But perhaps if I allow you and Jon Snow to have a real marriage..."
Ygritte stared at him in utter horror, warm blood running down her upper lip.
The king continued. "Jon Snow may not want Winterfell for his own sake or for the sake of a wildling princess. But the way he spoke about you... It made me believe that if I allowed him to keep you as his woman, he might accept my offer. It's a worse arrangement to be sure, but a lord is better than no lord at all."
She knew Jon. "He would never agree to that."
"I thought so much. You will convince him."
"I-"
"Or you burn. Lord Snow may hate me for it, yes, but it is not his love I need. If Jon Snow does not become Lord of Winterfell, I will have no use for either of you."
Ygritte stared at the king as if he had just sentenced her to death. He had, in a way. There was no way she could convince Jon to leave the Night's Watch. Not again. She was at a loss of words.
"How much time do I have to convince him?" she said quietly.
"Until I march on Winterfell. One week. And say nothing of this to Jon Snow or anyone one else. The flames will have you if you do."
The spearwife sat stiff in the chair, unable to move. When she had seduced Jon on their ride through the Frostfingers, she had him breaks his vows with her beneath the furs. Later, she had learnt it had been a ruse to trick the free folk to trust him. Jon didn't need to trick anyone this time and so her fate certain. She borrowed her face in her hands.
Stannis sucked uncomfortably on his teeth. "Take her away."
The burly guards descended on her and grabbed her by the arms. They started dragging her from the king's table. Back to captivity. They had nearly reached the door when the queen raised her voice.
"Your Grace," she said with her eyes lingering on Ygritte, "if you will allow it, please let the girl a place in my chambers. I've had no one to serve me since we left Dragonstone."
"I already gave you Davos' son," the king growled impatiently.
The queen rephrased her words. "I have had no women to serve me."
Stannis grinded his teeth. He didn't seem to like the idea. But then again, he didn't seem to like anything. "You can do with her as you please."
As the spearwife was being dragged along, she felt her heart beating so heart within her chest she feared it might catch fire. The shadows on the walls danced for her. You have one week. One week, he had said. Otherwise she would burn like Mance had burned. She could almost feel the scorching flames lick her skin. Fail to convince Jon and die. Tell Jon and die. Run away and die.