Warg Maiden
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.
A/N: We are now in Season 5
Chapter 20: Fire
Imogen's POV
My back felt is like it was on fire—the heat burning upon the wounds in where Alliser flogged me. Even when I tried to escape through warging, the pain was too much. It was a battle to keep focus during Ygritte's funeral. Emotionally, mentally, and physically I was suffering. I lost my best friend. Someone I cared for like a sister. The tears couldn't stop pouring, yet other ways of expressing my sorrows were done.
Maester Aemon tried his best to tend to my wounds. Fenrir was allowed to be there for the beginning until he was pulled out to be with the other hostages. Mance Rayder had fallen, refusing to bend the knee. Whatever these southerners decide to do with us. From what Fenrir says, the Dires and other tribes have spread out. Follow by the tribes that were making their way south now and those waiting in Hardhome.
However, thanks to Jon Snow, the Free Folk are practically doomed. All we wanted was to survive. Not travel south to the Riverlands and the other Kingdoms. Maybe take the property of abandon villages along the Wall, in the end, away from the Others. But that will never happen now. My mother and brothers are North of the Wall. Once Boudica gets word from this failure…the Crows and Southerners will have hell to pay.
Boudica, Priestess of the Dire Tribe.
A slight smirk lifted my lips.
The sound of the door opened as a burst of cold wind entered then shut. I shuttered since I was still shackled to the bed while half undressed. Maester Aemon had placed a poultice on my back. I adjusted my head to see it was the Southern King. What was his name again? Oh, that is right, Stannis Baratheon. Next to him was a woman clad in red. A painful shudder went down my spine sensing a dark aura from this woman. Meanwhile, Stannis held Dark Sister. I inhale sharply, for that was my sword.
"Where did you find this sword?" Stannis asked. "The Night's Watch claim you were in possession of this sword."
I glared at him, "It's mine."
Stannis took a deep breath, "This sword is called Dark Sister. It once belongs to House Targaryen and passed along Kings and knights. It went missing over a hundred and fifty years by the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch Brynden Rivers. A Targaryen. I am a descendant from House Targaryen."
I continue to glare at him, "Bloodraven gave it to me."
Stannis scowled and looked at the Red Woman, "She's mad."
The Red Woman was beautiful, one that could describe deviant. She had long hair that was deep color od red, unsettling blue eyes, pale and unblemished skin. Her dress wasn't suited for this weather; it was slender, exposing her full breast and narrow waist. Something about her tells me she was touch by a divine source. However, it was not the same as the Old Gods.
The Red Woman stepped forward, placing a hand on Stannis's shoulder before coming closer, "Do not fret, she is still recovering."
She came closer, pulling off the poultice and stared at my markings. I couldn't see her reaction, but Stannis's grey/blue eyes widen.
"She has been touched by her false gods," The Red Woman announced. "Given the sight and communication with the beast."
"Still does not answer my question in where she found Dark Sister," Stannis said.
"Warg, where did you find this great sword?" The Red Woman asked.
As she said this, she dug her nails into my wounds. A shot of pain went up to my spine, followed by a burning sensation that came out of nowhere. I grabbed the mattress, grinding my teeth yet, yet her nails were like arrows digging deep. A scream escaped my lips.
"Where did you find this sword?" She asked again.
"It's mine," I cried out.
"Where did you find it?" she murmured.
The pain was unexplainable that I couldn't handle it, "In the Haunted Forest near the Fist of the First Men. Under a weirwood tree."
The Red Woman removed her nails out of my wounds, "Thank you."
I panted as the pain by her manipulation, leaving from the wounds themselves.
"And the remains?" Stannis asked.
"None…" I lied.
The Red Woman and Stannis stared at each other, then nodded. Assuming Bloodraven had become a wight. Despite how much I loathed The Three-Eyed Raven, and hurt by Bloodraven…but I can't betray them by sending these Southerners to the Weirwood tree. Not have them attack the Children of the Forest or Leaf. I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the tears.
"What should we do with her?" Stannis asked. "You say she is touched by the false gods."
"Leave her be," The Red Woman answered. "She can be of use one day in the Great War. You have claimed your sword."
I glared at them, wishing I had the strength to break free and kill Stannis to reclaim what is rightfully mine. Stannis merely nodded as he left the room. The Red Woman turned around facing me.
"Relinquish your false gods and accept the Lord of Light. Your gift is from him, not the trees who listen and do nothing in return," she said.
I growled at her, "They are everywhere. They may not have theatrics as your God, but they listen and give guidance. Their eyes are the trees, their voices are the wind, and the stones are their body. Nature is in them. And when one breaks sacred laws, they shall retaliate far worse than a storm."
The Red Woman gave a wicked smile, "Let see if your gods can save your King from mine."
"What?" I sneered.
"Mance Rayder has not yet bent the knee these past few days. If he not bends, then he will be given to the Lord of Light for his crimes."
"You can't," I nearly yelled. "You can't burn the living."
"To purify one's soul, you must," she murmured. "So, pray to your gods."
She then left, leaving me exposed. My eyes widen in the fear that a good man will be burned at the stake. The Free Folk only burn the dead. We never burn the living. The only time a living person gets burn is by tripping over a fire, or a home caught fire. Never to execute someone. Fire is a resource, not a weapon.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
Jon's wounds had healed. A bit tender on the spot where Imogen had stabbed him, yet Maester Aemon had stitched him up and provide the medicine he needed. Currently, he was training Olly. Jon had forgiven Olly for what he did to Ygritte. The boy thought he saw a wildling going to shoot Jon, and acted on impulse. Olly didn't know Jon had a lover. In the spur of the moment, the boy acted on what he thought was best for the Night's Watch. By saving his brother.
Olly was striking forward, banging his training sword on Jon's shield. Jon noticed the boy was lowering his shield, leaving him exposed. Jon twirled his right hand landing his sword on Olly's shoulder and tilted to the neck.
"Get your shield up," Jon scolded.
"It's too heavy," Olly complained.
"If it wasn't heavy, it wouldn't stop a sword," Jon explained. "Now, get it up."
Olly mustered his strength to lift the shield. Jon attacked the boy aiming for the shield to show an example of the importance of the shield. He gave five strikes, pushing the boy forward until he tripped, falling backwards in the mud. Jon set his sword aside and help Olly up onto his feet.
"Come. Try it again," Jon said, using Rodrik Cassels words, and place his hand on the boy's neck. "Drive at me. Keep your shield up. Or I'll ring your head like a ball."
Olly couldn't help but chuckle. Jon smiled, messing the boy's hair before getting into position. Jon will have confessed to having been trained by Winterfell's Master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel along with his father. How to use a sword. How to fight. How to use a bow and arrow. Practically taught to be a knight, if it wasn't for his blood status, Jon could've been a Knight.
The training continues as Olly went for the offensive attack as Jon blocked it, "Good, good, pivot. Don't forget to pivot."
Jon raised his shield as Olly gave a cry striking it while leaving his own shield down.
"Shield up," Jon scolded.
However, Olly was not paying attention to him but the person behind. Jon raised a brow as he turned around to see the Red Woman who smiled at him.
"The King wants a word," the Red Woman said.
Jon found this strange, wondering why King Stannis wanted a word with him? He was a bastard and a steward. Ser Alliser, Ser Janos, or Lord Overton have a better chance of talking to the King than he. Still not wanting to disobey a request, Jon called Edd to train Olly before following the mysterious woman. They went over to the iron cage elevator. The chains rattle as the men pulled them up.
Jon felt eyes on him as he turned his head to see the Red Woman staring at him, giving an uncomfortable smile. Jon turns his attention to the view.
"You're not cold, my lady?" he asked.
"Never," she answered. "The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow."
She reached forward, removing his glove and placed his hand on her cheek, "Feel."
Jon noted that her cheeks were warm, but he knew windburn can make cheeks warm as well. Yet her skin shows no indication of being disturbed by the cold weather. He felt uncomfortable, removing his hand and put his glove back on.
"Are you a virgin?" She asked.
Jon kept his eyes forward as he answered, "No."
"Good," she replied pleased.
They soon reached the top of the wall towards the central platform. There King Stannis stood along with his Hand, Ser Davos, including Lord Overton. The three men were looking out towards the Haunted Forest.
"Your Grace," the Red Woman called out. "The bastard of Winterfell."
Showing his respect, Jon kneeled before Stannis. After a moment, Jon stood up, only to notice Dark Sister strapped to Stannis side. Jon knew that sword belongs to Imogen, and with her condition, she wouldn't be able to get it back. However, Jon felt like it was wrong for Stannis to take something that wasn't his.
Stannis stepped forward, "You know who rules at Winterfell now?"
Jon took a deep breath, "Roose Bolton."
Stannis nodded, "Mmm, the traitor who plunged a dagger in Robb Stark's heart. Don't you want to avenge him?"
"I want a great many things, Your Grace," Jon replied, controlling his impulse. "But I'm a sworn brother of the Night's Watch now. "
"I've been talking to your sworn brothers. Many of them love you," Ser Davos said.
"They're good men," Jon agreed.
"Many don't," Ser Davos added. "You were seen taking the body of a wilding girl north of the Wall."
"It's where she belonged," Jon explained, not looking at them.
"Some of the Night's Watch feel you have too much affection for the wildlings." Ser Davos continued.
"They were born on the wrong side of the Wall. Descended from the Sealgairean, the First Men who were brave to hunt down the White Walkers. That doesn't make them monsters." Jon explained.
"No matter," Stannis said. "I shall take back the North from the thieves who stole it. Tywin Lannister is dead. He can't protect them now. I shall mount Roose Bolton's head on a spike. But if I'm to take Winterfell, I need more men."
"The men of the Night's Watch are sworn to play no part—" Jon started.
"I'm not talking about the damn Night's Watch." Stannis interrupted. "I'm talking about the wildlings."
Jon's eyes widen. He knew the wildlings won't serve Stannis. Hell, it took Mance over twenty years to get the Wildlings to claim him King-Beyond-the-Wall. Let alone, Stannis slaughter their men and holding their King and chiefs' hostage. Stannis walked past him as Jon followed while the others followed from behind.
"Your Grace, you want the wildings to march in your army?" Jon asked in disbelief.
"If they swear to follow me, I'll pardon them. We'll take Winterfell. Once the North is won, I'll declare them citizens of the realm. I'll give them land to live on." Stannis promised.
"It's a fair offer. More than fair," Ser Davos agreed.
"I'll offer them their lives and their freedom if Mance kneels before me and swears his loyalty," Stannis added.
"I don't think that's likely," Jon said.
Stannis scoff as he continued walking, "You admire him, don't you?"
Jon went after Stannis, "I respect him."
"He likes you," Stannis noted. "Convince him to bend the knee…"
"Your Grace," Jon implored.
"…or he burns," Stannis threaten.
Jon's eyes widen, "How much time do I have?"
Stannis went over to the elevator with the Red Woman and Ser Davos. "Nightfall. The sun drops fast this time of year. Hurry, Jon Snow."
The Elevator went down.
Lord Overton came over, "How stubborn is Mance Rayder?"
"More stubborn than a mule," Jon confessed.
Lord Overton gave a whistle, "Do you need some help?"
Jon didn't know the answer. Deep down, he could use all the help he can get, but if Lord Overton comes into the room where Mance is kept. Then Mance will not cooperate. So, Jon shook his head.
Lord Overton nodded, "Let's get down, the winds are picking up."
Jon merely nodded as they headed towards the elevator and waited their turn. He was thankful Lord Overton was here. A familiar face out of all the new men here serving Stannis. He wonders if Lord Overton will be joining Stannis in taking back Winterfell. However, if Stannis managed to take down the traitors, who will run Winterfell? Practically everyone in House Stark is dead, other than Sansa, who is in Lannister custody, Arya missing, Bran somewhere beyond the Wall, and Rickon…somewhere in the North in hiding, based on Sam's statement. Does another loyal house have Rickon keeping him safe from the Boltons? Will Stannis return Winterfell to Rickon or had it over to a loyal subject.
Either way, Jon would be please if Stannis does have Roose Bolton's head on a spike. Bringing justice for Robb. The elevator came up as the two got inside and went down.
"Are you going with Stannis to take back Winterfell?" Jon asked.
"Your father believes he is the rightful king, I will join to do so," Lord Overton answered.
"Can I tell you a secret that you can't share with anyone?" Jon asked.
Lord Overton stared at him with a nod.
Jon took a deep breath, "My brother Rickon …he's alive. He is somewhere in hiding with a loyal servant."
Lord Overton's eyes widen, "Are you sure?"
Jon nodded, "Keep a lookout for him. He has more Tully traits than Stark. His Dire Wolf has a black fur coat, about Ghost's size. Rickon named him Shaggydog."
"I will keep a lookout," Lord Overton promised.
Jon nodded, appreciating it.
Once on the ground level, Jon made his way towards Imogen chamber to get some wisdom.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
I laid on my stomach as Maester Aemon treated my back. Applying fresh salve on my back and checking the stitching. Along with Gilly and Samwell. My eyes stared at the big crow, seeing Joruman's horn attached to his belt. The very horn that could destroy the Wall.
I stared at the horn, knowing it has to be destroyed. How this Crow has not blown on it, is by some miracle he has not blown on it. The ancient magic could destroy the barrier from the True North from the South. The Free Folk may have failed in taking the Wall and saving thousands of souls. But I will make sure the Others can't cross the Wall so easily.
"I think it will be two more weeks before the back will heal properly," Samwell guessed, staring at my back.
"More like three weeks," Maester Aemon said. "A cat o' nine tail whips is a terrible tool to be used as a weapon."
I clenched my fists on the sheets.
"Oh, sorry," Samwell said, thinking he applied pressure on a tender wound.
"Sam," Gilly said.
"Gillyflower, I think you should apply the ointment," Maester Aemon suggested.
Samwell pouted as he got up, allowing Gilly to sit next to me to work on my back. The girl Ygritte and I spared and hidden. And here she was, comfortably close with the enemy. Seeing how she interacts with Samwell is clears she holds a romantic feeling. I wonder how far they have gone. Closing my eyes, feeling her hands applying the salve. When I felt the shackles on my ankles removed while Maester Aemon checked on the bruise.
I thought up with a plan.
I know it will probably get me killed or beaten. But it had to be done in order to keep the Others from crossing. The moment the shackles on my feet were gone, I snapped, shot up wrapping my chains around Gilly's neck, pulling her to me. A shot of pain rushes through my back while securing the chains glaring at Maester Aemon and Samwell.
"Gilly!" Samwell called out.
"Sam!" Gilly panicked.
He rushed over, but I tighten the chain, "I wouldn't come closer, or I'll snap her neck."
The door opens, then shuts quickly. Jon entered causally then stopped seeing the situation he stumbled in. He was about to open the door until I tighten the chains causing Gilly to gasp; this made Jon stop.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I sneered.
Jon removed his hand from the door handle and stepped forward, "There's no chance of escaping."
"I don't give a fuck," I growl. "I'm dead either way by Stannis or Alliser or the infection on my back."
"Then what do you want?" Jon asked.
I stared at Samwell, mainly the horn, "That horn your brother has, I want it."
"This?" Samwell pointed to the horn on his hip. "What's so important about it?"
"That is the Horn of Winter, Joruman's horn. Created by Bran the Builder and given to Joruman to secure the magic that lies within." I explained. "Any mortal lips on the tip will destroy the Wall and allow the Others to cross over. For a thousand years, the Free Folk have been searching for it. And a Fat Crow finds it."
"Hey," Samwell protested.
"So, you want to destroy the Wall?" Jon asked.
"No, I want to destroy the horn," I corrected.
All three men stared at me, surprised.
"I vowed to protect the living if my last act is delaying the Others from coming south," I growled.
"How do you know this is the horn you have been seeking?" Jon asked.
"When you have been touched by the Old Gods and the Three-Eyed Raven, you can sense the ancient magic," I answered. "So how about this, destroy the horn right now with Longclaw, and I will let go of Gilly."
"You have a chance to escape, and all you want is the horn destroyed," Jon asked to confirm.
I nodded.
Jon stared at me with those dark orbs contemplating about it. I know there is no chance of leaving Castle Black alive. I will help my people the best I can. Jon nodded, seeing the truth as he walked over to Samwell.
"Sam, give it," Jon said calmly.
Samwell nodded, removing the horn from his belt and handed it over to Jon. He took custody of the horn and stepped back, setting the horn on the ground and draw Longclaw. I glare at him, waiting for him to do it. Jon took a deep breath, adjusting his grip and destroyed the horn with Valyrian steel. The moment of impact, there was a burst of green and yellow flames as runes appeared then vanished. Leaving a horn in two pieces.
Jon, Gilly, and Samwell were shocked by what they saw. Seeing I was telling the truth that there was magic inside the horn. Maester Aemon stared in the direction where the destruction was. A deal's a deal, I removed the chains from my shackles and let Gilly free. The girl got up and ran towards Samwell, who embraced her.
I sighed, bowing my head, waiting for my death. Instead, it doesn't happen. Instead, Jon came over, avoiding eye contact, as he took one of the blankets and covered me with it since I was topless. My eyes widen, not expecting a sword in my chest, not a blanket.
"Samwell, take Gilly out," Maester Aemon advised.
Samwell nodded as he led her out.
"I'm sorry, Gilly," I managed to say before she was entirely gone.
We waited for a moment, then Jon became severe, "I need your help."
"And why should I help you?" I replied.
"Please, a man's life is in danger." He said.
"Who?" I asked in defeat.
"Mance," he answered. "Stannis says if Mance does not bend the knee by nightfall, then he'll have him burn."
I scowled, "The Red Woman mentioned it this morning."
"Is there a way to convince Mance to bend the knee?" Jon asked.
"The Free Folk don't kneel," I answered. "We're about respect and earning trust. Mance spent twenty years to gain that trust for a common enemy. If he bends the knee, he will lose respect from half of the clans."
"Will the Dires follow if he bends?"
I stared at him. When a chief is taken, the wife seizes control of the clan. Even if Fenrir would respect Mance's choice of bending the knee, my mother, Boudica, would not. Knowing my mother, when she gets word from this, she will plan an attack to get her family back and the Free Folk crossing. And what Fenrir said about many of the Free Folk spreading out in the Haunted Forest…it won't be long from now.
Jon realized I won't answer his question. He stood up, making his way out.
"Jon," I sighed.
He stopped at the door but didn't turn.
"The only way you can convince Mance is talking about the people," I said. "Otherwise, there is nothing else to say."
Jon nodded as he left.
I sighed then looked at Maester Aemon.
"Shall we get back to treating your wounds?" the old man suggested.
"You are one strange Crow," I muttered.
Maester Aemon merely smiled as he gestured me to lay down.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
What happened a moment ago Jon will never understand? It was clear Imogen is an enigma. She had a chance to gamble Gilly's life to escape; instead demanded he destroyed the horn. He didn't believe the horn help magical properties, just an antique Sam found. However, when Longclaw made contact and shatter the horn, he was mistaken. So, realizing a possible threat was destroyed brought some closure.
Yet it doesn't resolve the fact he needed to convince Mance to bend the knee. After a week, Mance refused to bend the knee. The Wildlings are being held prisoner on the other side of the Wall by Stannis's soldiers. There were more wildlings than Stannis's soldiers, but the horses gave the Southerners the advantage. Still, one order from Stannis and many lives are at risk.
And Jon thought the Northerners were stubborn. He was mistaken when crossing paths with the wildlings. They are stubborn as winter itself. Mance being the worse. Taking a deep breath, the guards let Jon in the room where Mance was being kept. Once he entered, he found the once King-Beyond-the-Wall, sitting on at a corner, staring out a window. Mance looked over his shoulder, seeing Jon.
"So here we are," Mance greeted.
"Here we are," Jon agreed.
"When we first met, you were my prisoner. And now, for our last meeting…" Mance sighed.
Jon came over but kept his distance, "This doesn't have to be our last meeting."
Mance puckers his lips, "No, but it will be."
"You know what Stannis wants?" Jon asked.
"He wants me to bend the knee. And he wants the Free Folk to fight for him," Mance answered then looked out the window. "I'll give him this much, he's bold."
"Shouldn't a king be bold?" Jon asked, confused.
"Oh, aye," Mance agreed, looking back at Jon. "I respect him. If he gets what he wants, I expect he'll be a better ruler than the fools sitting on the Iron Throne the last hundred years. But I'll never serve him."
Jon sighed, "You told me you weren't here to conquer. You told me your people have bled enough."
"That's right," Mance confirmed sternly. "I don't want them bleeding for Stannis Baratheon, either."
"You spent your life convincing 90 clans to come together for the first time in history. Thenns and Hornfoots, the Dires, the ice-river clans, even the giants. A life's work uniting them. You didn't do it for power. You didn't do it for glory. You brought them together to save them because none of them will survive the winter, not if they're north of the Wall. Isn't their survival more important than your pride?" Jon insisted.
Mance raised a cautious brow, "Pride?" He stood up, walking over to Jon. "Fuck my pride. This isn't about that." Then walked away.
Jon was getting annoyed, "Then bend the knee and save your people. "
Mance turned around, leaning a hand on a column, "They followed me because they respected me. Because they believed in me. The moment I kneel for a southern king, that's all gone."
"And how many tens of thousands are out there right now?" Jon asked. "How many women? How many children? And you won't go out and rescue them because why? You're afraid of looking afraid."
"Oh, I am afraid," Mance confirmed sharply. "No shame in that."
Jon sighed, knowing Mance would rather die than bend the knee. It was pointless. Then again, he feels like there is more than Mance or the chieftains are telling. It brought back when he went to the Wildling Camp at the Haunted Forest, seeing a quarter of the army barely there while the rest was missing. There was going to be another attack. But who is leading it? The Chieftain and Mance are here, and his short time at the Wildling Camp, he couldn't get knowledge of a possible leader. Mance knew the Wildlings will continue their campaign of going south.
Mance sat down, "How will they do it? Beheading? Hanging? "
Jon stared into his eyes, "They'll burn you alive."
Mance's eyes widen, not expecting that then looked down, "Bad way to go." He stumbled, trying to gain his composure, "I'll be honest with you. I don't want to die. And burnt to death. I don't want people to remember me like that, scorched and screaming. But it's better than betraying everything I believe."
"And what happens to your people?" Jon asked, walking closer. "You preserve your dignity and die standing, and they'll sing songs about you. You'd rather burn than kneel. The great hero. Until winter comes and the White Walkers come for us all, and there's no one left to sing."
"You're a good lad," Mance complimented. "Truly, you are. But if you can't understand why I won't enlist my people in a foreigner's war, there's no point explaining."
Jon sighed, giving the nod as he turned to leave.
"And Jon," Mance said.
He stopped by the door.
"If you want to fight in the real war, you will need Imogen by your side. She has seen the past and touched by the Three-Eyed Raven. She holds the key in everyone's survival."
"What is she?" Jon asked.
"The question is, who is she," Mance corrected.
Jon annoyed, knocked on the door, waiting for the guards to open the door. When they did, he decided to give the last words.
"I think you're making a terrible mistake."
Mance chuckles, "The freedom to make my own mistakes was all I ever wanted."
As usual, Mance had the final say.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
Everyone was assembled at the courtyard at night. A pyre was assembled with a stake center of it, filled with straw and hay. This was wrong. No one should be executed by this. I stared and Fenrir and Tormund, who held the same expression as did the other chieftains. Death by Fire is wrong. An honorable man should not be tortured to death. A warrior deserves a quick death.
Mance was brought down in chains. The two soldiers escorted him to the Courtyard, standing before Stannis, Ser Davos, and the Red Woman. They stared at each other with respect and disdained. Their conversation faint barely making out what they were saying.
"Mance Rayder, you've been called the King-beyond-the-Wall. Westeros only has one King. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy." Stannis offered.
Silence engrossed the Courtyard. All eyes were on Mance, wondering what his decision will be. He stared at us then turn his attention to Jon, who stood with his brothers.
"Kneel and live," Stannis offered again.
Mance took a deep breath examining Castle Black, "This was my home for many years. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."
Stannis nodded, gesturing his men to take Mance. They obliged, grabbing both of the man's arms and escorted him up on the pyre. Adjusting his arms, bound behind his back and tied to the stake. Once Mance was secured, they came down, while the Red Woman who I learned just now to be named Melisandre stepped forward in front of Mance to address the crowd.
"We all must choose. 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."
I glared at her referencing the Old Gods as the false. Our gods in the North have lived longer, surviving since the creation of Westeros. I may not know much about her religion, but it is clear her God is a violent God who demands and takes. Not listen and advised—the deities' conflict with one another. And sacrificing a soul to appeased a god is barbaric.
Melisandre was given a torch as she walked over to the pyre facing us.
"Free Folk, there is only one true King, and his name is Stannis. Here stands your King of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness." She warned and set the pyre on fire at every corner.
Mance kept his eyes on us Free Folk. His expression tried to be strong, yet I could see the fear in his dark eyes. The flames growing rapidly as his body instincts kicked in of fight or flight. The urge to flee from the flames, yet the ability to run gone, changing the flight to fear and desperation. I wanted to rush in, grab a dagger, and cut the ropes. Except, Fenrir kept a hold on me.
"This is wrong," I whispered in the old language.
"I know, but he made his choice," Fenrir murmured. "We will avenge him when the time is right."
"We will," Tormund promised.
I took a deep breath and started chanting the hero's prayer. Giving Mance his last rights of honor. The fire grew, consuming it's way closer to Mance. He closed his eyes, gasping and fidgeting. Doing whatever he can to tolerate the pain. All around, there were many emotions. Those who worship this fire god showed excitement and glee, many of the Crows held a neutral face, as many disturbed by it. Gilly, who stood by Samwell's side, curled herself closer to her partner as he tried to comfort her. I continue my prayer, not caring for the Southerners' disapproval. Mance is part of the Free Folk, his mother wild and father a crow. Taken as a youngling to be a crow only to discover his identity and returned to his people. A man who united ninety clans for the means of survival.
Mance was nearly crying out. The flames reaching his feet. When all of a sudden, an arrow struck him in the chest. Directly into the heart. His eyes widen, staring at the source of the archer. All eyes followed to see Jon standing there, lowering a bow. Mance gave a small smile as life escaped him, causing his body to give way. The fire engulfed the vessel cremating the dead instead of torching it.
A mercy kill…
The only question is…why would Jon do that?
And now we are in season 5.
Hope you enjoy the chapter.
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