Author's note: Thanks a lot for the comments everyone! They're really much appreciated))
Feeling all his instincts scream of the danger that Stannis like many experienced warriors always sensed intuitively, he raised his sword high above his head and looked around intently for any sign of the archers who seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Although every yard of the forest was illuminated brightly by Lightbringer's light, there was no doubt in Stannis's mind that the darkness was still hiding somewhere very close. Like the shadow of an ancient horror, it was creeping between the trees, biding its time, filling the hearts of the living with dread and waiting for the opportunity to strike.
"Maybe we scared them off" – Balaq whispered, looking cautiously at his men, most of whom were several hundred yards away, searching fearfully for the foe between the tall dark trees.
"They're here" – Stannis answered quietly, trying his best to detect even the smallest sign of movement.
Coming after the walkers with just ten men and then sending even that small guard away was a very dangerous gamble, verging on foolishness. But Stannis was too desperate to find out everything he could about the demons, which had crossed a supposedly unbreachable barrier, to worry about danger. The walkers moved very quickly, so he couldn't afford to lose even a second on waiting for more men to get ready and mount their horses and would now have to make do.
There were too many questions flashing through Stannis's mind. Too many things he needed to know at almost any cost…
Were there just two of the walkers? If so, why did they suddenly decide to fight instead of just fleeing? Were they scouts or assassins? Have they led him into a trap? Did they, perhaps resolve to try and turn their scouting mission into a destructive one? Or could it be that the walkers were at first hoping to outrun their persecutors, but unable to do so fast enough were now in danger of exposing some sort of secret? Maybe the secret of how they got over the Wall? Was it really true that the ice demons could only be fought with dragonglass or was that savvy little oaf Tarly merely lying to get himself and that wildling girl of his out of trouble?
But whatever the answers were, the open exposure of the wielder of the Red Sword would no doubt force the hiding archers to reveal their presence sooner or later. The plan was as simple as it was risky: force the archers to show themselves, evade their arrows and charge, try to take them prisoners or engage them in single combat long enough for the rest of the party to return and help. Thus, Stannis with Balaq to his left and Vinyrah to his right, waited patiently for the rest of the sell – swords to move far enough away, hoping to all the Gods, their fighting skills would be sufficient to see them through the ordeal. Although Stannis, Black Balaq and Aros Vinyrah were all far more experienced fighters than Brienne, the fact that a swordswoman of her skill and dexterity was unable to take on the demons in single combat wasn't at all increasing the odds…
Finally the stillness of the air was broken by an arrow that swished right past Stannis's ear and landed deep inside the trunk of a nearby tree. It was shot from the opposite direction to where the first three arrows came from. The three men swung around and dodged away instinctively, but the archer was too quick for them to spot. In half a moment another arrow flew past them, ending its lethal journey in Aros Vinyrah's chest. The shot was so powerful, that the sell – sword was thrown back, falling on Stannis, knocking him over.
"Get back, you useless maggots!" – Balaq growled, jumping in front of Stannis and the dying sell - sword – "Protect the king!"
Stannis threw off Vinyrah's body and barely had time to react when he saw another arrow fly from a new point to his left. It swished right past the returning sell – swords, heading for the middle of Balaq's broad back. Stannis swung Lightbringer high above his head and just as he felt the blade hit the arrow, he heard a quiet noise similar to that of shattering glass. As a small shower of cold water landed on his face, Stannis realized that the arrows were made of ice. In a split second another two deadly pieces of it hit the ground right in front of him.
Stannis looked up and suddenly noticed one of the white walkers run swiftly through the trees, his armor merging with his surroundings, making him almost invisible.
So there were actually two of them, Stannis thought. They were obviously trying to move around in semicircles and attack from both sides simultaneously, making it almost impossible to evade the arrows. And since they kept missing, the walkers most likely couldn't see very well in the light.
Stannis fell to the floor, successfully escaping another arrow that flew right between him and Balaq, who, having also noticed the enemy charged ahead boldly. The walker shot an arrow at him, but Balaq dodged away and attacked the demon with his sword. The walker deflected the blow with his bow, shattering Balaq's blade to a thousand tiny pieces with a single touch. Then he kicked him so hard, the sell - sword flew several yards and fell to the ground, curled up in a ball and unable to move. Fortunately for Balaq, the walker turned his attention back to Stannis, who had just managed to roll away from yet another lethal piece of ice.
Judging by the demons' pace, Stannis had no more than a second to decide the course of action. He could stick to the original plan and keep jumping away, waiting for the walkers to run out of arrows and then try to attack them. He had the advantage of the walkers' bad eyesight and could probably wait and dance around for a while yet. But even if Stannis could take on two white walkers alone, which seemed almost suicidal as his wounds were beginning to hurt again, he wasn't at all sure he could fight them with Lightbringer without doing the demons substantial harm and leave them alive and well enough for questioning. And more to the point, the sell – swords, who were trotting back as fast as they could, would be useless. Their weapons were made of steel too so the only thing they could fight with were their hands and, judging by Balaq, their chances of success against the walkers in hand to hand combat were naught.
So there was nothing for it, but kill the demons with bunches of Lightbringer's terribly hot, inextinguishable fire. But should he miss even once and hit a tree, Stannis could easily burn down the whole forest before he even had a chance to get out and alert the rest of his men.
As he heard yet another arrow land in the snow no more than an inch away from his ear, Stannis jumped to his feet, swung around and, feeling the magic run through him and concentrating hard, sent a torrent of Lightbringer's blindingly bright, extremely hot fire at one of the archers. The walker's agonizing screech that cut through Stannis's ears like a sharp knife was immediately followed by a loud sound of shattering ice. Next thing he knew was a great white direwolf springing out of the trees and knocking him over once again. As they fell, Stannis heard an arrow swish past his ear and saw it hit the direwolf's shoulder. The beast roared with pain and fell limply to the ground. Then came another stunning, blood – freezing scream, followed by the sounds of metal scraping against ice. Stannis sprang to his feet and saw Brienne fighting the other white walker. Cursing loudly and heartily, Stannis swung Lightbringer over his head and sent another fire – column through the trees, hoping to goodness his aim would be true.
This time the silence of the forest was shattered by two horrifying screams as Brienne tried to jump clear of the torrent of fire and the shower of water the white walker's body almost immediately turned into.
Stannis sighed with relief as Lightbringer calmed down and her fire and heat subsided to almost normal. They were all finally out of danger, the demons were dead and most of his men got through the whole business alive. Although he was disappointed at not finding out how the white walkers got through the wall, Stannis was quite happy with the valuable information they did manage to discover. Now it was clear that Tarly wasn't lying about the walkers' weapons shattering steel, so he was most likely right about the dragonglass. Valyrian steel was obviously also effective against them. The white walkers couldn't see well in the light, seemed to have a very effective technique of hand to hand combat, wore remarkable color - changing armor and, much like Stannis himself, preferred a swift and sudden style of fighting. Quite enough information to start with…
"Are you hurt, your grace?" – asked one of the sell – swords, most of whom finally managed to return to the battlefield, as he jumped off his horse.
"No. See to Balaq and Brienne"- Stannis replied, giggling at the wet and disheveled girl as she sat up on the snow, cursing and trying to wipe her face dry with her squire's sleeve.
Serves her right for disobeying my commands twice, he thought without malice.
The men scurried away to tend to their captain, who was slowly recovering from the walker's mighty blow and Stannis turned his attention to the direwolf that was still lying limply on the snow, breathing heavily and whining quietly.
"Where in the seven hells did you come from, Ghost?" – Stannis muttered as he limped up and knelt carefully beside the huge white beast.
"Did you run away after your master's death or did those traitors throw you out?" – he asked, stroking the direwolf's head gently. Ghost replied with a little whine and looked up with sadness in his intelligent red eyes.
"I never imagined a direwolf would be so smart as to… It looks like I owe you one, boy. Let's see what we can do here" – Stannis sighed as he started to examine the arrow that was sticking out of the beast's shoulder.
It was the strangest and possibly the most beautiful weapon Stannis had ever seen, aside from Lightbringer. The shaft was longer and thinner than most war arrows used by men on both sides of the Narrow Sea. It was made of practically transparent silvery – blue material that looked like ice and glowed with a soft, cold, flickering blue light. It's fletching was not of feathers, but of something that looked almost like giant snowflakes.
But how was such beauty to be extracted from a wound, Stannis thought apprehensively. In the case of a normal arrow positioned that way, the maester or surgeon would enlarge the wound or pull the edges apart with hooks and pull the arrow out. His very own Willem Storm would do the same, except he would extract the arrow with an ingenious device of his own invention which he had proudly demonstrated to Stannis only yesterday morning – a special instrument that followed the shaft down into the wound and after finding the head, closed it off, allowing to extract the arrow without causing further damage to the tissues.
But this was no ordinary arrow, which meant it most likely wouldn't be safe for a human to touch… Stannis thought for a moment and then decided to use the old, according to Storm barbaric, red – hot iron treatment with a little alteration.
"You three" – he shouted to the sell – swords standing nearby – "Hold him down!"
The men looked at Stannins anxiously as they walked over, but knelt obediently and pressed their arms onto Ghost's head, back and back legs. The direwolf, who somehow seemed to understand what was going on, whined fearfully.
"Stay still, Ghost" – Stannis said bringing Lightbringer close to the arrow and silently commanding her to increase the heat of her fire. Immediately he felt her warmth on his face and watched the ice arrow melt down in a matter of seconds. The moment he saw blood flow out of the wound in a steady stream, Stannis knew the arrowhead was melted down completely.
Ghost tried to turn his head to lick his shoulder, but Stannis and the sell – sword held down his muzzle.
"Tamponade the wound" – Stannis told the sell – swords – "Storm will do the rest"
"They have treated wounds before, you know" – Balaq's booming voice came from somewhere above Stannis's head – "Granted, they were in human flesh, but still…"
"Thought you were paralyzed or something" – Stannis chuckled, looking up at the sell – sword captain, who was standing right behind him, still clutching his hand to his belly.
"Not yet" – he replied a bit saucily – "But may I be hanged on a liana on the Basilisk Islands if I've ever felt such a strong blow before"
"There's always a first time" – Stannis replied, pushing down with all his might as he heard Ghost, who wasn't at all enjoying the tamponade, roar angrily – "Tie the direwolf up and head back to the camp."
The fires were once again burning with a bright and warm cheerfulness and the sell – swords were sitting round them, listening excitedly to their few comrades who were lucky enough to witness the first skirmish between men and ice demons, which suddenly proved to be more than just the stuff of myths and legends. Every man from the small party was eager to add a few words to the story, but of course, Brienne was the main heroine and narrator. Moving from one fire to another and trying her best not to be too pleased with herself, she told all her friends and comrades of how she saw the walkers and how the huge wolf helped her, how she and Podirck followed the king's party through the woods, how she saw Stannis kill the walkers with Lightbringer's flames and, most importantly, how she fought the demons with Oathkeeper, although her armor and Balaq's sword were shattered to pieces by a mere touch of their ice – weapons. The sell – sword toasted and cheered her loudly and Podrick, who was sitting next to her, was basking in his mistress's glory and dreaming of a time, not too far away, when he would have a story or two of his own to tell.
Meanwhile, Stannis, Balaq and Ghost were sitting around a bonfire in a specially put up tent, waiting for healer Storm to collect his gear. Ghost was lying limply on his side, staring at the fire with tied up paws and jaws. Balaq was chatting away enthusiastically telling old Essos legends of the last Long Night and Stannis was staring into the fire and stroking Ghost's back absently. He was completely lost in thought, planning the mining and shipping of obsidian, trying to figure out a way to bring new recruits to the Wall and establish and maintain old and new supply lines.
As usual, his original plan of taking the Iron Throne and rallying the Seven Kingdoms was destroyed by the reports of the white walkers' approaching army, which, judging by the storm and scouts were absolutely true. But how in the world was he supposed to fight them? Even with most of the North and the wildlings at his command, Stannis still didn't have nearly enough resources to stand against an army of demons that commanded another much bigger army of undead. How many people had died beyond the Wall in eight thousand years? Stannis didn't even want to try to estimate. Even if the wildlings had burned most of their dead through the years, the number was still basically infinity.
So, if Stannis and his men were to even stand a chance against the Darkness, they would need not just all the resources of Westeros, which, by the way, were depleted considerably after almost five years of war and Cersei's appalling political stupidity. They would need the help of Essos, half of which was also in shambles, thanks to the war the Targaryen girl started in Slaver's Bay. But most of all they would need all the information on the walkers and the last Long Night they could get. Even if Stannis could command the maesters of the Citadel to work day and night on the problem, how many years would it take them to dig out and study what remained of the ancient books and scrolls? How many years would it take to gather enough data in Essos even with the Spider's vast knowledge and enormous spy network? Could the Red Woman or Thoros of Myr rally the red priests out of their temples and onto the Wall? Would they even be helpful? Not to mention trustworthy…
Would Stannis's authority and experience and some masterful diplomacy be enough to convince the lords of Westeros to follow his example and abandon the pursuit of their immediate goals to fight for a common cause no one's believed in for thousands of years? Perhaps… Would the Targaryen girl be willing to bring her dragons to fight the Others if he sent her an envoy? Her advisors would probably tell her to kill the ambassador and claim the Iron Throne first. But if the girl was indeed another chosen champion of Fire or… whatever… as Stannis somehow knew she was, she will believe him and will be prepared to give up her own ambitions for the good of all. At least he hoped she would…
Did she have to pay the same price for her dragons that he did for his sword, Stannis thought with a heavy sigh?
But his thoughts were interrupted by the final arrival of Willem Storm and his huge bag of medicines and instruments.
"Damn, Brienne is telling such great stories out there, it makes me wish I had come with you" – he smiled excitedly, throwing the bag down with a loud clang of glass and metal – "I'd love to see a white walker! And fight one would be even better"
"Telling good stories, is she?" – Stannis chuckled deviously – "I'll give her something to talk about once we get to castle Black"
"I didn't know you could fight" – Balaq said raising his eyebrows.
"Neither did I" – Stannis agreed with surprise – "Since when do they teach swordsmanship at the Citadel?"
"They don't. But I can hold a sword, though not nearly as well as the two of you" – Willem replied with a cunning smile on his face – "And who said anything about swordsmanship anyway?"
"How will you fight then? With magic?" – Balaq asked almost euphorically.
"I hope you didn't damage the forming tissues too much, your grace" – Storm replied evasively as he knelt down beside Stannis.
"Him first" – Stannis smiled, petting the direwolf's head.
"What have we here?" – Storm chuckled turning his attention to Ghost. The direwolf, who hated being all tied and bandaged up, greeted him with a low growl of displeasure, that sounded more like an annoyed grumble.
"I've never seen a direwolf before" – the healer continued with an excited smile on his face - "Aren't you the beautiful one!"
"He was wounded by one of the walkers' arrows" – Stannis replied, stroking Ghost's neck comfortingly – "I thought it might be dangerous to touch, so I melted it with Lightbringer"
"Wise decision, your grace" – Storm nodded as he untied the piece of cloth that bandaged the direwolf's shoulder and removed the soaked tissue from the wound.
Ghost gave another low growl as the healer pulled the fabric off the wound, but lay perfectly still.
To Stannis's surprise, instead of treating the wolf right away, Storm put his right hand gently onto Ghost's wound, closed his eyes, frowning with concentration and stayed perfectly still for a minute or two.
"Looks like there's no dark magic left in the wound or in the blood" – Willem finally said with satisfaction, opening his eyes – "If there was any initially, the Red Sword must've destroyed it"
"But… there's something there…" – he continued musingly – "I don't remember direwolves being magical creatures, but I… Well, anyway!"
Stannis and Balaq watched curiously as Willem placed both his hands on the wolf's shoulder and started quietly singing a strange chant the like of which Stannis had never heard before. He was certainly no expert on magic, but had seen enough of Melisandre's rituals to recognize a spell when he saw one being performed. It sounded like a song in high valyrian, but even though Stannis spoke the language well, he couldn't understand the words.
Suddenly the healer's hands began to glow with a sparkling light of white, silver and gold. Immediately Stannis felt a soft, comforting warmth spread around the tent, penetrating every pore in his body, filling him with complete harmonious serenity.
When Storm had removed his hands from the wolf's body, neither Stannis nor Balaq could believe their eyes. The wound was completely gone, without even a trace of a scar in the direwolf's white coat.
"May the Shadow eat me, chew on my bones and spit them out into the reddest pit of Hell for the demons to play with!" – Balaq gasped, his mouth hanging open.
"Thank you very much" – Storm laughed as he untied Ghost's paws and muzzle. Instantly the direwolf jumped up looking baffled and not quite sure of what had happened to him. But after a few minutes of confusion, Ghost started to nuzzle Willem and lick his hands in a very definite gesture of gratitude.
"Damn… I've seen a lot of warlocks, mages, healers and other charlatans try to heal with magic in my life, Storm, but nothing… nothing like that!" – Balaq mumbled excitedly.
"Did you just call me a charlatan?" – Storm asked, raising an eyebrow – "Pull up your shirt and lie down. Kicked in the solar plexus, were you?"
"Oh, aye. And that was one hell of a kick" – Balaq replied as he obeyed – "Can you heal me with magic too?"
"No" – Storm answered after a quick routine examination of Balaq's chest and belly – "You're quite healthy as you are"
"Aww, come on! Just one touch" – Balaq pleaded, sounding almost like a child who was desperate to get a new toy – "It's not every day you get to see someone kicked by a real – live ice demon. He might've frozen my guts for all I know"
"No!" – Willem answered sternly – "Your guts are fine, just like the rest of you. And as for the demon's kick, you can go and join Brienne of Tarth in telling stories about your heroic battle. But take it easy for a while. If you start feeling any pain or dizziness or anything else, come to me at once"
"Fine" – Balaq grumbled sourly as he pulled down his shirt and put his warm doublet back on.
"And don't even think of faking anything to get the magical treatment, because if you do I'll know right away" – Storm said strictly – "And, trust me, you don't want to know how I treat inflamed curiosity"
Stannis chuckled as a very disappointed and sour sell – sword bowed and left the tent to a loud and cheerful greeting from his subordinates. No doubt he was going to take Storm's advice and add his storyline to Brienne's.
Ghost trotted after him at first, but then sniffed the air outside and decided to come back and lie down in front of the fire.
"You're not going to ask me to heal you with magic too, are you?" – Willem asked Stannis, gesturing him to lie down on his side.
"No. But that spell or whatever it was you did, felt glorious" – Stannis replied, taking off his breeches.
"You felt it? That's good" – Storm said, untying Stannis's soaking wet bandages – "Looks like you're starting to use your own power… Oh, blast it!"
"What's wrong?"
"The wounds're festering again. They were healing fairly well at Cerwin, but now…" – Storm replied apprehensively - "Of course I expected the strain of the three day march to slow down the healing process, but not reverse it. And since the walkers are obviously indeed marching on the Wall, there's no time to treat you the normal way. I'm afraid I'm going to have to use my magic on you after all"
"The same as you used on Ghost?" – Stannis asked happily, very glad to be finally rid of the pain and weakness.
"A little different, since it's a different type of wound, but the end result will be the same" – Willem replied.
"Let me get this straight, you can heal rotting and any other kind of wounds completely with magic, but you prefer to use herbs, oils, knives and amputation instead?" – Stannis asked indignantly.
"Yes".
"Why?"
"Because magic is very dangerous" – Storm said darkly – "Even the lightest and purest magic that is healing always has huge ultimate consequences. Always. For me as well as for the patient. I never use it unless I absolutely have to"
"Consequences?" – Stannis snorted – "What kind of consequences?! Worse than death or crippling?"
"Possibly"
"This is absurd!"
"No, it isn't!" – Storm snapped – "Now lie still and be quiet!"
Stannis obeyed and soon began to feel the same intense, gentle, soothing warmth flow out of Storm's hands. But before it could spread around, Storm jerked his hand away suddenly.
"What the…?" – he gasped in surprise, looking at Stannis's wound suspiciously.
He brought his hands down and began his spell again, but stopped immediately and pulled away.
"What's wrong?" –Stannis asked anxiously.
"That's odd…I can barely feel you" – the healed replied apprehensively
"What?"
"Everyone has a sort of a…life-force or… inner fire, you might say. The energy potential that defines a person's strength, lifespan and many other things. Normally the life - force of a young, strong man like you with a great affinity for magic should be powerful and intense. But yours is so weak, I almost feel like I'm treating a walking corpse. Now it's clear why you're not healing so well…"
"Why is this happening?" – Stannis said worriedly.
"As far as I know, there are a only a few reasons for that. I need you to be completely honest with me" – Willem said gravely – "Have you ever, in your life, been in contact with dark bloodmagic or anyone who performs it?"
"Yes" – Stannis sighed heavily after a moment's pause - "For the last five years I have been very close with an asshai fire – priestess and shadowbinder"
"Oh, I hate those disgusting black – handed bastards" – Storm hissed – "How close does close mean?"
"Very close" – Stannis replied reluctantly – "She was one of my most trusted advisors. She was the one who made me believe in magic and the like. She used her power to kill four of my enemies, whom I couldn't have destroyed by any other means…"
"Did she kill with shadows?"
"Yes. And with leeches"
"Leeches?!" – Willem asked confusedly.
"Instead of sacrificing a man to perform the spell, she burned leeches filled with his blood" – Stannis explained.
"A leech filled with blood used to invoke bloodmagic?!" – Storm snorted – "Must've been some pretty strong blood. Was it yours?"
"No" – Stannis sighed heavily – "My nephew's"
"But why did she use his blood if she didn't burn him?" – Willem asked looking baffled.
"Because I didn't allow her to burn him" – Stannis snapped – "And she needed king's blood. Gentry's Robert's bastard"
Or, rather, Davos didn't allow it, Stannis thought with a twitch of remorse.
"Those red idiots and their King's blood!" – Storm snorted contemptuously– "Granted, the concept was true in times of Valyria because the highest of nobility were also the mightiest maeges and dragonlords. Their blood possessed extraordinarily powerful magic, but now… And if she was so desperate for king's blood, why didn't she use yours? That would've made sense, at least. She didn't have to kill you perform the spell, you're a king, not a bastard boy and your blood actually has magic in it"
For a few moments Stannis stared at the healer completely speechless, with his mouth hanging open.
When the hell did he become so stupid and blind?! Assuming Melisandre wanted to burn the poor boy to achieve stronger effect, why didn't she ask him for his own blood once he forbade the burning? She used him for the shadows, why not this time? Of course a leech filled with king's blood would've been far better than one with the blood of a bastard prince. How could he possibly have missed something as obvious as that?! Was he really no better than the completely brainwashed Florents that such a clear and logical argument didn't even occur to him?
"Well… she did draw my blood for some of her rituals" – Stannis mumbled – "Maybe… I don't know…"
"What rituals?" – Storm asked gravely – "Shadowbinding? Was your blood used to create a shadow?"
"Yes, two of them"
"Two?!" - Storm gasped in horror.
"But it wasn't my blood she used for the shadows…" – Stannis added quietly – "The blood was for something else. I don't really know what…"
"Oh, Seven Hells! Please tell me you haven't fucked her!" – Willem groaned, rolling his eyes.
Stannis looked away silently. He was too ashamed of his own stupidity to look he young man in the eye, so he stared at the crackling and flickering flames instead and watched Ghost wag his tail gently as he lay stretched out in front of the fire. His eyes were serenely closed, but his ears were pricked up as though he was listening to the conversation with interest.
"How many times?"
"I don't know… hundreds…" – Stannis murmured reluctantly. It was agonizingly difficult to talk about his private life, even to a healer – "She's been my mistress for almost five years"
"Five years?!" – Willem gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets – "She's been collecting your seed and your blood for five fucking years?! Bloody hell! Why are you still alive?!"
"Probably because I am still needed" – Stannis shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes. And because your fire and your blood magic must be very strong" – Willem nodded – "The good news is, there's no dark magic left in your blood either. Not as far as I can feel anyway. So your fire will soon return to its normal intensity. Your blood should've been full of darkness since you were a willing participant of the dark rituals, but…"
"Storm, I only agreed to it because I thought magic was a last resort. I'm not making excuses, I'm telling the truth" – Stannis replied forcefully, cutting the healer off – "If Joffrey and Tommen were Robert's trueborn heirs, I'd have bent the knee and served them as faithfully as I did Robert. But they weren't. So I believed it was my right and duty to take Robert's crown, but I had no means to do so. Thanks to Robert, I was almost powerless, with no lands and no resources they provide. The only thing I had was my fleet. Just like Aegon the Conqueror I had the best mind, but the smallest force and thus the smallest odds. But Aegon had little need for armies because he had magic – his dragons. So I decided to follow his example. It was only when the letter from the Night's Watch arrived, I realized that my duty had nothing to do with Robert and the Iron throne. For some reason I was chosen to lead men against the white walkers and that is the only thing I wish to do. But I still need to control the seven kingdoms to do it. We don't stand a chance otherwise. The walkers have eight thousand years worth of corpses to raise and command. Not to mention their own numbers, their magic and the fact that winter is their domain, while we men need warmth and food and many other things"
"I'm not a military man, your grace, but if I may be so bold as to give you some advice, I think you should forget the Iron throne" –Willem replied - "And if this time you let me finish what I have so say, you'll understand why"
Stannis nodded and noticed that Ghost was now wide awake and listening attentively to their conversation, his ears pricked up highly.
"Each time the shadowbinder used your blood or your seed for her spells, your blood and soul became soiled with dark magic. And dark magic is called dark because it is one of the manifestations of the forces of destruction and it defiles all natural laws. But the nature of dark magic is a theme for another time. Once it got into your blood, it began poisoning your body, draining your life forces and even might have been strong enough to start affecting your mind. It would've done the same to the wolf or to any other living being that had the misfortune co come in contact with it. But it is one thing to be an unwilling victim and quite another to be one of the performers. And since you willingly agreed to give your blood you are just as much a performer as the priestess"
"I didn't know what she was going to do…"
"But you never tried too hard to find out either, did you?" – Storm asked gravely – "And even if you did, would you have stopped her?"
"'No' to both questions" – Stannis said honestly – "I admit, I didn't want to know what she was doing because I trusted her and was too much of a coward to face the truth. But I wouldn't have stopped her. War is war. Killing your enemies at war is different from murdering them in times of piece. Soldiers kill hundreds of men, but it doesn't make them murderers"
"That's true enough, but I'm sure you'll agree that it's a little more complicated than that" – Storm replied – "Anyway… You were chosen for the Red Sword long before the red comet lit up the sky. Even before you saw your destiny as a child in the dream you told me about. Most likely before you were even born. Your whole life you have unwittingly been learning and preparing for what you were born to do. But the Red Sword holds extremely powerful magic of the lightest and purest quality. I'm sure you know that it was created with a double sacrifice, which was made sincerely, with great love and no thought of greed or glory or whatever. And the ancient laws of sorcery dictate that the maege's blood has to be as pure as the magic he performs or purer. That's why the necromancers can't heal the poor wretches they resurrect. So if your blood had to be purified before you could find the sword…"
"Are you trying to tell me that my blood was also purified by a double sacrifice?" – Stannis asked breathlessly, feeling the pain of loss swallow him again – "When my daughter unwittingly agreed to do anything to help me and I murdered her because I believed that it was the only way to fulfill my destiny?"
"Yes" – Willem said with a little comforting smile – "If you had used your destiny as a guise for power-lust and vanity, not only would you have not been able to find the Red Sword, you would've failed to fulfill your destiny. But by making a true and sincere sacrifice of what you love most you unwittingly performed a very powerful act of very light and pure bloodmagic, which woke the power of the sword, cleansed your blood and your soul and proved to whoever is guiding you and all the rest of us, that you are worthy of your task."
"But what if I refused? What if I had chosen another course of action? What then?"
"I don't know, I'm afraid." – Storm shrugged his shoulders – "I'm no God or great maege, who has most of the answers. I'm just a man, who is only beginning to learn and understand the laws of the world. But I think you felt completely sure the sacrifice was necessary, even if your mind was battling against it as I'm sure it was"
"Well, if you ask me, your knowledge is greater than that of most maesters and priests combined" – Stannis said with notes of admiration – "What were you going to say about the Iron throne?"
"Oh, yes! The throne… I don't think you need it to fight the walkers. Of course, you're the expert on warfare and politics, but I think you had everything you needed to fight before you laid your claim to the throne. When you had almost nothing. I'm not making much sense, am I?"
"I'm afraid not…"
"Sorry, your grace. What I'm trying to say rather inadequately is that when you were lord of Dragonstone you had an island chock – full of dragonglass, men to mine it and a fleet to ship it to the Wall. And maybe that truly is all you need for a start. Everything else will come and already is coming when you need it. The northmen and the wildlings don't follow you because of your crown, but because you earned their loyalty and they know you're a great leader and general in your own right. If you needed the Iron throne to win, you would've taken King's Landing. But you failed to do so despite being the best military commander in Westeros, who can easily defeat an enemy with twenty times your numbers. Despite having a large army and a brilliant battle plan. To be honest, I first thought that might be the case when I heard Balaq discuss the attack on King's Landing with ser Ormund. They both agreed that your tactics were actually flawless and that you failed through sheer dumb bad luck. Except I believe the bad luck wasn't really bad luck at all…"