Mid May, 300 AC

The king waited for him atop the Wall, his Hand and his priestess at his side.

They made a strange tableau, this king and his advisors. Before Robert's Rebellion Davos Seaworth was a notorious smuggler. Then the Tyrells had besieged Storm's End. Stannis Baratheon and his garrison were near starving when Davos snuck past a Redwyne blockade, his ship full of fish and onions. Stannis had knighted him and given him lands for the onions, and cut off the first joint from each finger of his left hand for the smuggling. Davos was older now, perhaps forty-five and weathered by time. His dull brown hair and beard were speckled with grey, his face as ordinary as the few words Jon had heard him speak.

There was nothing ordinary about the red woman. She had an unnatural beauty with her heart-shaped face, her eyes large and bright, her lips full, her hair fine as silk. Melisandre , they called her, a name as beautiful and terrible as her looks. The red priestess came from Asshai by the Shadow, thousands and thousand of leagues across the sea. Why she had come so far to serve Stannis no man could say.

Between the red priestess and the onion knight stood their king. Stannis Baratheon shared King Robert's deep blue eyes and coal-black hair, his height and broad shoulders, yet the two men were as different as night from day. Robert had been a great fat man; Stannis was so gaunt as to look half a corpse. At Winterfell Jon could barely remember a moment when Robert was not shouting and laughing; since arriving at the Wall no man had seen Stannis smile, not once. Pyp japed that Stannis was so stiff that he must keep his sword sheathed in his own arse.

Jon was too nervous to smile at the memory as he knelt before the king. Every muscle in the king's body was clenched tight; his heavy brow furrowed.

"Rise, Lord Snow." There was a queer look in the king's eyes. Pity? Why should he pity me?

"I understand that news oft reaches the Wall late."

Jon nodded. "Aye, sire. Few think to send the Night's Watch news about affairs which do not concern us."

"Kings must needs be better informed. My bannermen come from across the Stormlands and the Reach, and their maesters send them what news they can. I have received word which concerns you, and my Hand insists that I have a duty to share it."

"Sire?"

"Your brother is gravely injured, Lord Snow," the red woman murmured. Jon stared at her.

"Robb? Has there been some battle?"

"There was," Stannis said. "Your brother set a trap for Tywin Lannister and crushed his forces at a place called Sweet Root, near where the gold road meets the Blackwater Rush. Lord Tywin had no choice but to agree to peace until after winter."

"I don't understand."

"Stark was betrayed," Stannis said bluntly. "After Sweet Root he rode to the Twins to wed Edmure Tully to a Frey girl. When the bedding was done, Lord Walder's men turned on them. Most of his lords were slain defending Stark, and your brother would have died as well, but..." Stannis ground his teeth together. "Accounts are confused. One letter claimed that Catelyn Stark seduced Lord Walder into letting her son flee."

Jon gave a bark of shocked laughter. To his surprise, the corner of Stannis's lip twitched upwards.

"I see you find that account as absurd as I did."

"When Bran fell she turned to stone." It should have been you, Lady Stark had told him, her words like a blow to the belly. Then she had begun to sob as though her heart would break. "Losing Bran and Rickon..." Jon swallowed hard. Stannis waited, impassive. "If a man threatened her last son, Lady Catelyn would sooner gut him than seduce him."

Davos made an odd strangled sound in his throat, and Stannis nodded.

"An apt choice of words, Lord Snow. Another letter asserted that Lady Catelyn held a knife to Lord Walder's throat and forced him to let Robb Stark go. Once he was gone, she slit Walder Frey's throat and was slain in turn. Whatever part she played, Catelyn Stark is dead, old Walder is dead, and the Freys are fighting amongst themselves."

"And Robb?"

"An arrow struck him in the cheek," Melisandre said softly. "His bride tends the wound; I have seen it in my fires. For all her care the wound only grows."

Jon's legs trembled. He wanted to fall to the ground and weep, or run to the yard and smash his tourney sword against some hapless foe. I must be strong for Robb.

"Robb will live," Jon said with a confidence he did not feel. He must live, he must, he is the last of us. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

"And if he does?" Stannis' face was hard. "Robb Stark is a rebel and a traitor who means to steal half my kingdom. Your Bowen Marsh says Stark intended to make for Castle Black once he had taken Moat Cailin back from the ironmen."

"And when he arrives?"

"He must kneel." Melisandre's eyes glowed red. "Stannis is the Lord's chosen, the warrior of fire. I have seen him leading the fight against the dark, I have seen it in the flames."

"I hope you will convince your brother to give up his foolishness, should he live." Stannis's voice was harsh as iron. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. Donal Noye had told him true.

"I am a man of the Night's Watch," Jon answered. "The Night's Watch takes no sides."

"So Bowen Marsh has told me. But the Night's Watch is sworn to defend the realms of men. My fight against the darkness is your own."

"It is," Jon conceded. "But your quarrel with Robb is not. Lord Commander Mormont would tell you the same, if he were here."

Light flickered in the king's deepset eyes.

"A poor time for the Night's Watch to lack a commander. How soon will the ranging return so that the choosing may resume?"

This is a hard man, Jon thought, crushing his grief down beneath his ribs. He tells me my brother may be dead, and moves on to other matters without pause. Jon considered the question. Theon Turncloak's ranging departed near the end of third moon; it was halfway through fifth moon now.

"They should return from Craster's Keep by the beginning of sixth moon, sire. It will depend on the weather beyond the Wall and whether they encounter any of the remnants of Mance Rayder's host."

Stannis turned away, looking out across the haunted forest. His heavy brow shadowed his face as he brooded, the weak afternoon sunlight dancing on his crown of red gold flames. At last the king spoke.

"The war for the dawn approaches, and these fools waste their time on petty squabbles. Janos Slynt is no more fit to command the Night's Watch than he is to command a kennel. Ser Denys Mallister is as ancient as he is chivalrous, more concerned with bloodlines and sers than the battle ahead."

"Cotter Pyke is younger and bolder," Jon ventured. Stannis snorted.

"Aye, and a foulmouthed brigand who can neither read nor write. The highborn will not have him, no more than the bastards and thieves will abide Ser Denys."

He is right , Jon thought. The same fear had haunted Jon since he awoke from his sickbed. The brothers had cast their lots into the kettle over two dozen times, and still no man held a majority. Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke had been neck and neck at the last choosing before the ranging, but Janos Slynt was not far behind.

"If my brothers choose Janos Slynt, there is nothing I can do. None of the others have a chance, but for those three. If only Donal Noye were here, or Qhorin Halfhand..."

"You are here, Jon Snow." The ruby glowed at the red woman's throat, pulsing like a beating heart. Warmth radiated from her body, the strange heat forcing him to take a step back.

"Me?" Jon recoiled. "Never. They say I am a turncloak, a craven. They say I killed Qhorin Halfhand and rode with Mance Rayder and took a wildling to wife."

"I have heard the same." Stannis scowled. "But that is not all I have heard. I have heard that you slew a wight and saved Lord Mormont's life."

"And nearly burned myself to death."

"I have heard that you found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other. I have heard that you raised the alarm at Castle Black before the wildlings could attack from the south, despite being half dead from an arrow to the leg. I have heard that when Donal Noye fell, you held the Wall until reinforcements arrived."

As if Ser Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt were any help

, Jon thought, unable to hide a grimace. Stannis raised an eyebrow as if he had heard.

"I heard that when Ser Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt tasked you with murdering Mance Rayder during a parley, you challenged him to single combat instead, and nearly died from the scourging the wildlings gave you."

"And now I can barely hold a sword, and all the watch knows it," Jon snapped, forgetting himself. "My brother may be dying, and you ask this of me?"

"The Lord of Light asks for everything you can give," said Melisandre.

"Pardon my bluntness, my lady, but he is not my lord."

"Are you so blind as to deny his power? I have seen you in my flames, Jon Snow, just as I have seen your brother."

Jon laughed bitterly.

"Have your flames showed you if Bran yet lives? Have you found my lost sisters?"

Stannis frowned, but it was Davos who answered, his left hand grasping at the hollow of his throat, as if clutching for a necklace that was not there.

"Your sisters were already found."

The words seemed to stop Jon's breath. He sucked in air, the cold filling his lungs. "What?"

"I thought you knew." Stannis looked annoyed by the digression. "Nevertheless-"

"Where are they? Are they safe?" King Stannis scowled at the interruption, but Jon could wait no longer.

"The younger one—"

"Arya." He could see his little sister in his mind's eye, her tangled brown hair, her grin of delight when he put Needle in her hand. Almost two years had passed since then; she would be eleven now. Did Arya still remember her bastard brother? Did she miss him as he missed her?

"Arya Stark was with Robb Stark's host at the Twins; she was not among those the Freys took hostage. As for the elder..." Davos paused, looking at his king. Stannis jerked his head. "She was captured at the end of the old year and taken to King's Landing. They put her on trial for Joffrey's death."

"Sansa? "

The notion was even more absurd than Lady Catelyn seducing a Frey. Sansa was as gentle as a dove, even if she did call him "my half brother." Once when she was eight she'd told Jon that he must show extra chivalry when speaking to girls, to make up for his baseborn blood. The words had hurt, but she'd meant them kindly, and proceeded to spend half an afternoon lecturing him on how to properly speak to ladies. He could still remember how hard Robb had laughed when he'd found out why Jon had missed sparring in the yard.

"There was a trial. She confessed her guilt before condemning Lord Tywin as a faithless oathbreaker and demanding trial by combat."

Jon wished there was somewhere to sit atop the Wall. "You're sure it was the elder daughter?" The nerve to say such things in open court sounded more like Arya.

"Yes, it was the older girl," Stannis said impatiently. "Her champion won the trial by combat and she remains in Lannister custody. There are more serious matters at hand, Lord Snow. The issue of the next Lord Commander, for instance."

The red woman was watching Jon. At some point the wind had knocked the hood from her head, spilling her hair about her face. Where Sansa's hair was the bright red of the Tullys, Melisandre's was a deep burgundy, the color of dried blood. Shadowbinders deal in bloodmagic, Luwin had once told them. Jon shivered.

"It may be that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow," the king said, staring north into the distance. "We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me, and I mean to make use of you."

"The Night's Watch chooses our own commanders," Jon protested. Stannis turned, favoring him with a scowl.

"And why should they not choose you? The Starks of Winterfell have supported the Night's Watch for thousands of years; many will remember that, and wish to win your brother's favor. Nor will they wish to anger the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms when my forces outnumber theirs by at least six to one. Ser Denys' highborn lickspittles will appreciate your bloodline and castle training; Cotter Pyke's blackguards will like your bastardy and your boldness in battle."

"Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone." The red priestess's breath steamed in the frigid air.

"I will think on what you ask, Your Grace," Jon said carefully. "As I said, my brothers will not return from Craster's Keep for some time."

"Yet they shall return, though not all of them, and there shall be a choosing. The Lord of Light has shown me," Melisandre said, resting a hand on Jon's arm.

When King Stannis finally gave Jon leave to go, he could still feel the heat of her hand.


Can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Some changes: in canon it's implied that Melisandre had Stannis do the leech ritual because she saw Joffrey, Balon, and Robb's deaths. Those events changed, so no leech ritual (yet?) Davos is at the Wall because Robb was still in perfect health when they left Storm's End, and there was no reason for him to go to White Harbor.