Val
Mance was dragged forward like a mule, bound by a hempen rope and a noose wound around his neck. The other end of the rope was wound around the saddle horn belonging to one of the King's knights. Godry the Giantlayer as the ever bragging knight liked to call himself.
Mance Ryder was meant to die the death of a traitor, dressed only in a thin tunic that left his limps naked to the biting cold. They could have at least allowed him to keep his cloak, the one Dalla patched for him with strips of crimson silk.
Jon tried to reason with the King again and again, but it fell on deaf ears. Stannis Baratheon's mind was as rigid as a frozen block of ice.
At least he got to hold his son, she thought and took comfort in that. I did what I could, Dalla.
The day chosen for Mance's death was also fitting. A heavy grey sky hung over the Wall of Ice, the pale sunbeams barely penetrating through the thick clouds.
Even the Wall was weeping or so Jon had told her in the morning. Weeping like many of her brothers and sisters. Many of them tried to hold their tears back, but it was no use.
"We all must choose," the Red Witch proclaimed then, raising her pale hands above her head."Man or women, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same."
The King stood close to Red Witch, his face hard and grim like always. Stannis Baratheon is not a man meant to be liked by others, but to be feared and respected, Jon had told her not long ago.
"We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or we choose the false," she continued and Val looked over to Jon. He looked just as grim as the King, his face unnaturally pale. A few days ago they swore their vows before the heart tree, but little had changed about him. He was still glum, smiled and she knew why. He was still plagued by guilt and shame, though he didn't voice it openly.
I did it for my sister Arya, he had told her and Val found no shame in that. She would have done the same for Dalla.
"The King Beyond-the-Wall is no exception," the Red Witch continued, her red robes fluttering in the upcoming gust of wind.
Mance walked slowly and tried to face his death with a smile on his lips, but when he saw the wooden cage prepared for him, his courage failed him. The King's knights made it from the trees of the haunted forest. They bent and twisted saplings, branches, boughs around and through each other to weave a wooden lattice, that was placed high above a deep pit filled with logs, leaves and kindling.
"No!" Mance cried out, recoiling from the sight, his voice different and strange to her ears. Maybe it was just the fear that changed him.
"No!" he cried out again."This is not right. I am not the King…," he stuttered, but his words were taken from him when the Giantslayer yanked on the rope. Mance stumbled forward and struggled against the pull of the rope. He was bloody when the other knights shoved him into the cage, before hoisting him up into the air.
She gritted her teeth, trying to still her boiling blood.
"Free Folk!" the Red Witch shouted, her voice echoing over the crowd."Here stands your King of lies. And here is the horn the he promised would bring down the Wall," the Red Witch added as the King's knights brought forth the Horn of Joramun. It was black and branded with gold, eight feet long and covered in ancient runes. Mance found it in an ancient grave beneath beneath and glacier high up in the Frostfangs. Whether it was truly the Horn of Winter Val didn't know.
Maybe it was just a simple horn, she thought and glimpsed over to her captured brothers and sisters. For them it was the symbol for a better future that was now taken from them. She saw it etched in their faces as they watched the horn lifted up into the air.
"This is the Horn of Darkness!" the Red Witch declared."If the Wall falls, night falls as well, the long night that will never end. It must not happen, it will not happen! The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn," she added and waved her hands towards the King.
He wanted Val and Jon to stand beside him, but Jon argued and managed to convince the King.
"Free Folk!" Lady Melisandre cried out again and spread her hands wide."Behold the fate of those who choose darkness!"
As if through magic the horn burst into flames, feeding on the wood and making the runes shimmer. Then the King's yanked on the rope and what was left of the horn tumbled down into the fire pit beneath.
Mance was an even poorer sight. He clawed at the noose around his neck like a madman, screaming words of treachery and witchery, even denying his Kingship. It was like a stab into the guts, but his mad laugh made even Val shudder. She thanked the gods that Dalla wasn't here to witness Mance's death and shame.
"It will soon be over," Jon whispered, his breath rising from his mouth like mist. Then he jerked his head towards the new Lord Commander, Ser Denys Mallister.
He sat perched on a black garron, his black wool cloak bellowing behind him like a dark shadow.
He was surrounded by two-hundred men, each armed with a spear and their faces hidden beneath the hoods of their cloaks.
Val continued to watch, but tried to block out Mance's shrill cries. He was clutching the bars of his cage, sobbing and begging for mercy.
Then she felt Jon's hand enclosing hers and he leaned closer to whisper into her ear.
"Now," he told her, but Val didn't know what to make of his words until three of the crows unslung their bows and sent their arrows flying. One arrow hit him in the chest, one in the gut another in the throat. Limply the Mance slid to the ground of the cage and was swallowed by the flames.
"Now his Watch is done," Jon whispered. It was fitting she supposed, since Mance was once one of them, before Dalla exchange his black cloak for one slashed with bright red silk.
"The King will not like that," she whispered back to Jon, before lifting her head to get a glimpse at the King. He was scowling, his face contorted into a grimace of anger.
"The Lord of Light made the sun and moon and stars to lighten our way and gave us fire to keep the night away," the Red With continued to address Val's people."Nobody can withstand his flames."
"Nobody can withstand his flames," the knight's repeated, before the Red Witch continued with the spectacle.
"Free Folk! Your false gods cannot help you, your false horn did not save you and your false King brought you only death, despair, defeat, but there stands the true King. Behold his Glory!"
Then the King stepped forward and drew his blade. Lightbringer, Sam and old Master Aemon had called it, but this name meant nothing to her.
Yet it was a fitting name for the sword. It glowed red, yellow and orange as if brimming with light. It was the sun forged into steel.
Val held no love for the King or the Red Witch, but was awed by the spectacle. She wondered if it was really able to kill the Others.
"Westeros has only one King," the King spoke at last, his harsh voice echoing over the pit."With this sword I will defend my subjects and destroy those who threaten them. Bend the knee and I promise you food, land and justice. Kneel and live or go and die. The choice is yours."
Then he slipped the glowing sword back into the scabbard.
"Open the gates!" she heard the echoing voices of the crows."Open the Gates!"
And thus the stockade gates were opened and her people freed.
"Come," whispered the Red Witch. She sounded like a mother trying to entice her children."Come to the light or run back to the darkness. If you choose life, come to me."
And they came. Some were limping and others walked upright, but that didn't mean anything. Those choosing to cross were all kneelers. I am one of them, she thought. That is our price for survival.
As they passed the knights handed each man, woman and child a piece of white weirwood, a stick , a splintered branch as pale as broken bone and a spray of blood-red leaves to cast into the still burning flames.
At the sight of the burning weirwood even Jon grew anxious. He was flexing his fingers like a madman.
The first one to kneel was the new Magnar of Thenn. Val knew his father well and they looked much alike safe for their height. Then came Rattelshirt, his armor made of bones and boiled leather ringing with it's familiar clattering tune.
That he knelt was an even a greater surprise, but she was sure that the man had no intention intention to keep faith.
Lesser leaders followed, among them two clan chiefs of the Hornfoot men, the young son of Alfyn Crowkiller, Harma Dogshead's brother Halleck and several more, but all of them bending their knees before the King with the glowing sword.
Having shown done their expected duty they each received a warm soup, bread and proper clothing.
It was a mummer's show, but she had no doubt that the King would demand the same from Tormund and the others.
When it was finally over Jon led her away. As they passed Ser Alliser and his companions gave them hostile looks. Among them was the frog-faced man named Janos Slynt who also wanted to be Lord Commander. Yet he only received a few meager votes.
"That trick with the arrows was your idea, wasn't it?" she asked warmly.
A ghost of a smile tugged on his lips.
"It was my idea, but it was the Lord Commander who went through with it. Hanging or a blade to the neck is the way oathbreakers are meant to die, not through the flames meant to work magic."
"Well, this Alliser Thorne and the frog-faced lord seemed to enjoy it," she remarked coldly."I saw them both smiling."
Jon's smile disappeared instantly.
"Janos Slynt will be sent away from Castle Black. Ser Deny's Mallister doesn't like his presence here, but Ser Alliser is another matter. He is not well-liked but respected. I can't do anything about him."
Val nodded her head and the both of them made her way back to the tower, where Gilly was awaiting her in company of Sam.
Sam the Slayer didn't partake in the execution, fearing he might collapse by witnessing such a gruesome act.
"Is it done?" the Gilly asked her, rocking her babe in her arms."Did they burn him?"
"They did," Jon confirmed, „but Mance Ryder died through an arrow and not through the flames. Ser Denys granted him a proper death."
"That was kind of him," Sam piped in, a book spread before him. It was always like that. Whenever Val saw him he was either reading or hurrying after the old Maester Aemon.
"It had little to do with kindness," Jon explained and sat down next to Sam."He considers Mance Ryder an oathbreaker, but he holds little love for such displays of power."
"And did your people kneel?" Sam asked Val.
"A few hundred," she confirmed and picked her nephew out of his cradle, „but there are many more of us lurking beyond the Wall. It is very likely that they will assemble around Tormund. His host will be much bigger and I doubt he will kneel down to the King. Tormund's men are of a different kind."
Sam paled."Do you think there will be another fight?"
Jon looked grave and Val gave Sam an encouraging smile.
"I will speak with Tormund. He is stubborn, but no fool."
Jon sighed and nodded his head in agreement."I will speak to the King. I will make him understand that another spectacle like today will not help to bring the Free Folk on our side."
…