CW: Shireen and needles (not together though, obvs)

Chapter 13: The Little Princess

They left that day, descending from Castle Black down a lonely dirt road towards Winterfell which no longer houses House Stark, but Bolton. In her tavern Eira had heard rumours about the Bolton boy, a bastard who hunted people for sport, flayed them and hung them around the courtyard. She didn't believe it back then, Northerners were loyal to the Starks so any House that they deemed a threat usually ended up with some unsavoury rumours about them. However, the soldiers Eira trudged next to, behind the carriage the "King" and his family were dragged in by some big fancy horses, spoke otherwise.

Apparently they'd killed the youngest Stark boys, Rickon and Bran. It made Eira's heart hurt for the young Crow, Jon had lost his father, Ygritte, and now all of his brothers. Everyone had heard about that wedding.

Like her journey to The Wall, Eira was plagued by icy winds and a snow blizzard. They marched on for two days with little rest or care to those who fell behind. It was a harsh reality to be amongst paid soldiers, who simply stepped over their fellow man when the cold became too much for them. Eira counted dozens of dead horses that were pushed to the side of the road, she cried almost every time she saw them. It wasn't fair.

After that night, as they set up a camp, Eira noticed the army looked especially grey and small. An older man who introduced her as "Davos" had grabbed her and taken her to the biggest tent in which Stannis sat with Melisandre and his wife.

"The Stormcrows are gone, fled in that bastarding night, we've lost forty horses and will lose forty more if we continue in this weather."

"500 Men.. Sellswords, loyal to nothing but gold." Stannis declared grimly. Eira bristled at his lack of care for the horses that had carried his wife and child, his weapons, and his stupid tent with stupid furniture that one didn't need at a blood camp.

"Still have a hard march to Winterfell and a hard march after" Davos reminded his "King" sternly "We should head back to Castle Black. We don't have the food, the provisions to make it through this weather. It's not our time."

"I retreated from King's Landing, Ser Davos. If I retreat again, I become the King who ran."

"Your Grace-

"Winter is Coming, Ser Davos. That's not just a Stark saying it's the truth. If we march back to Castle Black. We Winter at Castle Black. And how many years will that be."

Eira would love nothing more for this skinny, grey, false King to trudge back to Castle Black so she could reunite with her people, her Giant.

"We march to victory. Or we march to defeat. Either way.. We go forward" Stannis growled through gritted teeth. The conversation over, Davos left. Leaving Eira alone with them.

"I've trusted your visions and prophecies for years." Stannis rounded his attention to the red woman, who lurked in the dark shadows behind Stannis. She seemed to always be just at his shoulder, always there to whisper in his ear. Eira didn't want to know what of. "...Are you sure?"

Melisandre smirked, "I have seen myself walk across the battlements of Winterfell, I have seen flayed the man banners be lowered to the ground. But sometimes, sacrifices have to be made." Melisandre waved a hand over to Eira.

"Take her for example, a common peasant girl, no education, no standing in society, granted the immense power as a gift from our Lord after a single sacrifice."

The false King stalked towards her, standing too close, looking down at her as if only just realising her presence.

"Is this true?"

She wanted the ground to swallow her up. Eira didn't want to share this tale anymore, it was a secret, something she only confessed to Tormund who she'd hoped would understand, and to Melisandre in a desperate plea to be enlightened about her God, what had happened to her all that time ago on That Night. It wasn't a drunken tale one would tell amongst the fireplace, it hurt to think about, speaking it into existence was excruciating.

"Yes. A baby." The words barely a whisper, eyes trained to the ground, Stannis's stare burning holes into her head.

"I have shown you the power of Kings blood."

"We don't have Robert's bastard here."

"No. We have someone better. And your blood runs through her veins." The girl?

Eira had caught a glance of Stannis's family for a good few moments as they set up to leave Castle Black. A grim looking woman, who's eyes followed Melisandre with the same reverence that Stannis was looking at the red woman now. Next to her was a child. A little girl with long hair and something on her face. Eira wasn't sure what it was, a mask or some mud, but the girl was smiling and laughing to some Knights. She wore a fancy dress, and had stepped into the carriage with the air of a little princess. She was Stannis's kin.

The man went pale, his eyes hardened to steel, he wrenched the arm Melisandre was holding away from her in repulsion. Eira assumed he'd throw her out, call the guards, his Knights, to threaten to sacrifice any Lord's children must have been punishable by death. And this one was convinced he was a King.

"There must be another way," Eira blanched, "Leeches or something?" He was.. considering it?

Eira schooled her face, kept her emotions tight, but inside her gut was a storm. Melisandre wanted to burn that little girl like she burnt Mance. Melisandre placed her hands on Stannis's face. He let her.

"Only you can lead the living to war against the dead. You must be King before the long Winter. All you life has been leading up to this moment. To this decision." She moved to kiss him but he flinched.

"Get out." Melisandre obeyed at once. Eira went to follow but was stopped by a firm hand on the scruff of her neck, like a dog.

"You will speak nothing of this Girl" He growled, "You are only here on her request." He then shoved her out of the tent.

Outside, as if fate chose to taunt Eira, the disfigured princess walked, chatting merrily to Davos despite the rain and snow. Eira wasn't confident in the false King's revulsion to Melisandre. If he was truly against the idea, he'd have had her killed.

She mulled over it that night, staring intently into a small fire she'd set up, several of the remaining soldiers grouped around her, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. It seemed that Stannis's obsession with fire worshipping priestesses was not shared amongst his men. Eira whispered prayers into the fire, she apologised for being absent, for not being able to offer blood. The warmth she received made her tear up, she felt comforted, her God wasn't angry. Eira wondered if somewhere, in one of the big fancy tents, was Melisandre worshipping to fire too. If she too felt comfort. If she saw visions, or heard messages.

From what Melisandre had done, had wanted to do, Eira felt like her God and Melisandre's Lord were very different beings, despite supposedly being the same.

Eira fell into a trancelike state, willing the flames to show her a vision of Tormund but her mind kept going back to the little princess. She didn't trust Melisandre, she was open about her desires to burn the girl. Stannis had barely argued against it.

She couldn't let them destroy that girl. All for the unearned title of King. What was the point of titles, the Wights would not care.

Her decision came to her quickly, picking her up as the soldiers began to droop and snore. The tent where the little princess had been ushered away into by her mother was guarded, but only by a single, yawning man. It was easy to sneak by him, the wind had made the walls of the tent loose, a quick shuffle of one of the wooden stakes allowed Eira to crawl on her belly under the tarp with little noise.

All she needed to do was grab the girl, steal away a horse, and flee back North. The Crows wouldn't let them kill one of their own, especially a child.

Eira crept towards the sleeping child like a predator towards prey, she glanced around the dark tent, no one else was around. They'd left the poor girl alone, in a windswept tent, in the middle of a storm. Close up she could see the girls face, it was grey and scaly, like a dragon. Eira had heard a girl had brought dragons back to life. Was travelling around the world on them, conquering long distant lands. Maybe this little girl had met one. Gotten too close and burnt?

Eira placed a hand gently over the child's mouth, the child stirred immediately, startled she whined into Eira's hand but it was firmly in place, and the wind's loud bellows the perfect cover. Eira placed a finger over her own mouth, shushing the girl who was hyperventilating.

"Quiet. You're in danger. I'll help you" She whispered in as soothing a voice she could manage. The adrenaline of her decision was wearing off, this was a suicide mission.

Outside an explosion of light and noise highlighted the tent, the whites of the terrified child's eyes. Horses were whining and men shouting, "FIRE! INVADERS!". Eira used it to her advantage.

"See? People are invading, the flaying men. I'm a sneaky Wilding. I can get you out and safe!"

The lie consoled the child, who nodded obediently and got out of her little bed, slipping on boots and following Eira, crouched by her opening in the wall of the tent.

"We can't use the entrance, they'll be expecting that"

"Where's Davos? My Mother and father?"

"They're waiting for us, I was sent to get you."

Eira helped the girl crawl outside, where men were running with buckets of water to save their dwindling supply of food, weapons, and horses. In the madness, Eira ushered the girl between tents, through dark nooks and crannies until she spied a dozen horses tied up to a post. Her heart fluttered with anticipation, maybe she'd get away with this. Maybe the flaming tents were a gift from her God.

With an arm around the little girls shoulders she dashed forward, a smile brewing across her face, but a flash of red and a sword had her stopped dead on her feet.

There Melisandre stood, face cool and collected, as if she knew this would happen. Beside her a knight.

"Come 'ere Shireen. Let's get you to bed."

Eira turned to the child, the little princess "Shireen", and flashed a bright smile, "Oh would you see! Your fathers brave knights run the invaders off!" She patted the girl on her scaly cheek, it was tough and cold to the touch, like stone. The child seemed shocked that she'd been touched, a timid smile graced her little face.

"You have a very brave father little miss," Eira gave her cheek another stroke, "Now go off to bed, I'm sorry about this disruption."

The knight took away the innocent child, leaving Eira with Melisandre, stony faced, eyes fiery.

"You think you're clever."

"No Miss"

Melisandre smirked, "No. You're not. But you are lucky. Like a cat. Too many lives." She waved a hand into the dark and two Knights obediently appeared, as if called by magic. Maybe they were.

"Bring this unruly girl to my tent." Her eyes still narrow and fiery, her hair and dress looked even more like dripping blood in the light of the moon and dying flames.

She was taken to a tent close to the centre of the camp, inside was a large fire, several grand looking cases, and smoky incense. A chain was roughly clasped onto one of her ankles, locked onto one of the wooden stakes that was much more firmly hammered into the ground.

Eira's heart was pounding, eyes wide darting around the tent for weapons. Stupid, stupid girl. She must have left her brain in Castle Black, to try and steal away the princess. She was sure Stannis wouldn't have been too bothered, but Melisandre wanted that sacrifice.

She wondered if Melisandre would burn her too.

She waited for what seemed like an age before the red woman entered the tent. She was followed by Stannis's wife, and two knights.

"Hold her down"

Eira thrashed and shrieked like an animal, if they were going to do that she'd do it fighting every second. The took two limbs each, one at her arms, one at her legs, holding her on the ground firm.

"Selyse.. If you'd please." The woman, Selyse, was a woman with a narrow, pinched face. Her eyebrows furrowed, she looked nervous but Eira had a feeling it was her usual expression. The woman scurried away like a mouse, scrambling for a box hidden away in one of the cases, returning at Eira's side.

With the grace and elegance of a queen, Melisandre removed the object from the box, a needle of sorts, and a bottle of something red.

"If you want to act like an insolent girl, you will be treated like one." She dipped the needle into the bottle, "In Essos, slaves are sold to red temples to serve our Lord. I was one of those slaves. It was a hard, cruel life, but the Lord chose me. I became a priestess myself, I am free now." She leaned forward, the needle dangerously close to Eira's head. Two hands firmly grasped her, Selyse's nervous eyes boring down at her.

"In some lands slaves are tattooed. In many, only the insolent, disruptive slaves. If you want to act like that, you'll serve their punishment too."

The needle pierced Eira's cheek, unrelenting, it burned her skin, she screamed but no one answered. The pain burned on for what felt like hours, until the sun rose in the sky. At some point she passed out from exhaustion.

Eira woke up alone, left on the ground of the tent, chained up and bleeding from her cheeks.

In the distance she heard a little girl's screams.