Chapter 1: Jon Snow : One

Jon Snow I

He wondered when the ache he felt in his heart would stop. He had kissed her on the Wall, with a similar view, and had late her body to rest. He gave it to the flames, yet he still saw a girl with red hair alive. Why did the gods haunt his dreams with those visions? Ygritte was so who was it that he saw.

"Jon Snow?" Then he looked to his back and saw for just a flash Ygritte. But it was gone, and he saw a woman in a red dress with fire-red hair. It was the priestess of R'hllor; she was a brightness in the cold and warmth he could not explain radiated from her. Yet the shining red ruby around her neck was the most nerving thing about her.

"My lady, how can I be of service?" He wondered what she wanted. "My king wishes to see you." He nodded and followed her. "My lady, aren't you cold? You freeze to death if you stay that way." He questioned as they walked where he supposed the King was waiting. "No, the Lord of Light warmest me." And she stopped as she touched his face with her hand. It was hot, like the sun he had felt in the summers in Winterfell.

"I suppose you're right, my lady, but we keep going. It is unwise to keep a king waiting." He didn't want to linger near this woman. There was something about her that didn't feel right. Then again, the excuse of not letting the King wait wasn't total bullshit. Ours is the Fury, was the word of House Baratheon, even if Stannis Baratheon was more known for a silent fury.

"As a wish, Lord Snow," Her words were sweet as honey. He nodded, and they walked on to where Ser Davos and King Stannis Baratheon were waiting on an overhanging that looked out over the cold North.

"The Bastard of Winterfell, Your Grace." The lady announced him and took a knee, and her words did not cut him. He had taken Tyrion's words to heart. The rest of the world will not forget who you are. It wouldn't hurt him if he didn't forget who he was anymore.

Compared to Robert, Stannis Baratheon was a small man, and from character looks, you wouldn't say they were brothers, yet they both held those blue eyes and black hair. Then, he waved a hand to him, and he stood.

"The North, my brother spook always with fondness of the North. I only see cold, ice, and snow, and cruelness to land. Now, even the people who rule are perhaps crueler than that. I suppose you know who sits now in Winterfell's halls?" Stannis asked, and it made him a bit irritated by how Stannis spoke of his homeland, the North. Yet he knew full well how ruled the North now, "House Bolton, Your Grace."

"Yes, an oathbreaker and a traitor, the one who by all accounts plunged a dagger in Robb Stark's heart. The one who orchestrated the death of his wife and his mother. All under guest right." Stannis said that when he heard of Robb's death, all he thought was the guilt of not being there. Now it was damn duty and the oath that held me back from riding out and seeking justice in his own hands. If Stannis had read his mind, he would have spoken. "Don't you want to avenge him? Take back the North from oathbreakers. Even if they rebel against the rightful King." Rightful King, Stannis, was he supposed, but the North and Riverlands declared Robb their King. By all right, Bran was the King in the North if he still lived beyond the Wall.

"I wish them all back alive, than Roose Bolton head on a spike, but we are just men, and we can only do so much in our lives, your Grace." Stannis just nodded, not reacting to his words. "Not only that, Your Grace, but I'm a sworn brother of the Night's Watch now. Even if we could take up arms against the Boltons, we would take no part in the wars and politics of the realm."

"Tell, who shall be the next Lord Commander. As far as I know, Allister Throne is trying to become it. He holds no love for you and has, together with others, called you a traitor to the Watch." It was Ser Davos who had spoken, and he just grimaced. "I only did what was ordered of me by Qhorin. I held my oath, and even part of my wish now is that I didn't. I may not be a Stark, but I have their blood, and we hold to our oaths."

"Well, maybe you burned a wilding girl south of the Wall. The brothers say you have too much affection toward them. That you have broken your oath." Davos countered. "I said I would guard the realms of men, and as far I'm concerned, the Wildings are men. What is coming for us is coming for them just as much. They only had the bad luck of being born on the wrong side of the Wall," He said, irritated.

"It doesn't matter. I have come North to take back from these oathbreakers and traitors, to show the realm what a rightful king does to those who break the King's peace and laws. Especially now the creator of the plot is dead. Tywin is gone, and with him the fear, those in Kingslanding will not lift a finger to protect Roose Bolton." Stannis's words, Tywin Lannister, is dead, 'Good' he thought.

"Yet, if I wish to take Winterfell and mount Roose Bolton head on a spike, I need more men." He knew what he wanted to ask. "Your Grace, you wish for the wildings to join you?" He questioned. Stannis gritted his teeth and walked past him.

"I do. They can join my realm. If they fight for it and join me, and we take Winterfell, they shall be declared citizens of the realm and part of the North. I suspect there will be more than enough land to grant them after I'm done with the traitors." He just stared at them. The wildlings would never join them. They didn't know them, and on top of that, he just slaughtered thousands of them in the snow.

"I doubt they will follow you, Your Grace." "It's a fair offer, considering what is coming," Davos said, although his words came over more forwardcoming. "They will be free, and they will live under my rule. Mance will kneel before me and swear to me his loyalty. To be his true King, he even gets a pardon for deserting the Night Watch." Stannis said, doubting that Mance would kneel to him.

"I suspect he won't kneel. He is their leader, and if he does, he will lose all credibility in the eyes of his people." He answered, and a small smile appeared on the King's face.

"You admire him. Perhaps a man, an outsider like him, leading a people as separate and wild as them is to be admired. But he either will kneel or die if you want to prevent Jon Snow. Speak to him, you know him better, and he seems to like you. Make him kneel." He swallowed. He didn't suspect Mance would never kneel.

"What if you can't convince him of your grace?" He asked, although he already knew the answer to that question.

"You better convince him, Jon Snow, you have until night falls. If he doesn't bend, then he will burn." His eyes widened. Being beheaded was one thing, but burning a man to death. It was a barbaric way to kill to end a man. Then again, how many barbaric things did the lords use in the wars and judgment? He only had to think about the Mountain and what the brut had done to Princess Elia and her children.

"Better hurry, Jon Snow. The night comes quickly during this season," Stannis said, walking away from him and ending the conversation. Melisandre gave one last look, which made him shiver, before joining her King.

Mance his cell

He opened the door, and the cell was lightly lit. Some of the daylight still came in, but it was only a cold room after that. Mance was sitting on a chair at the back of the room, in front of the window, the light reflecting his face and making his black greying hair stand out.

"They send you to make me kneel. Our story started with you kneeling before someone who was supposed to be me. Now, you have come to ask for me to kneel." Mance said, his voice curled into a smile.

"Yes, that's why I'm here, to convince you to kneel, save your life, and that of your people. That is why I have come, and if the world of men were to live when they come, we would need strong leaders to lead. You can't protect your people or lead if you are dead." He said, and he meant all the words. 

"You want my people to kneel to a foreigner and fight in his wars," Mance questioned, although he didn't come over as a question, more confirmation. "Yes, they will be allowed to live behind the Wall for their service. Live in freedom behind, under King of the Seven Kingdoms." If it were up to him, they could have Brandon's gift, settle it, and help the Watch defend the Wall. But with Stannis here, he had little choice, and it wasn't his choice to make. He might have led the defense of the Wall, but he wasn't lord commander.

"Puff, freedom isn't given Jon Snow. It has to be taken, and that's why I left. To take my choice back, and that choice isn't something I can take away from my people. Because the moment I kneel, I take away their choice. I was their choice to lead them." It was true, all of it. The Freefolk would never follow Stannis; if Mance knelt, he would lose their respect.

"So your people will all die for pride then. Too proud to kneel so they can live? Take a knee, live to fight another day, and make more choices." He said, and there was more force behind him. Mance just grinned at him.

"You are a good lad, a man of the heart, someone who would have fit with us, and that is partly why I let you join us. You want us all to live because part of you sees yourself in us. The outsider, joining the outcasts of Westeros. You are perhaps someone who can do both, a Freeflok and a man of the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't. I'm of the Freeflok, and we will not kneel. King Stannis will never understand that. So tell the King my answer." Mance words made me feel conflicted. He felt affection for them; they were all just men like them. His oath held that conflict was to protect the realms of men. Were the Freeflok, not men?

"That is your answer?" He asked one more time, almost pleading. "Yes, so how will they do it then, beheading? Or hanging." He resigned himself, as Mance wasn't changing his answer.

"You will burn at nightfall." Mance's eyes widened, and for the first time, he saw the man truly afraid. "A bad way to go," Mance's words were less steady than before. "I will do what I can for the Freeflok." He said, trying to give the man some comfort.

"I appreciate it," It was quick but had some warmth. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," Mance said, and he nodded and left the man to his thoughts.

Evening > Castle Black Courtyard.

The night had arrived, and everyone in castle black gathered in the courtyard. Night Watch, the captured wildings, and the men of Stannis he stationed in Castle Black. He looked at the pyre and thought, 'he should have bent the knee. But would you, if you were responsible for all your people, would he kneel? Perhaps he wouldn't, not that it matters anymore. Soon, Mance would be dead, and thousands of wildings would join the army of dead.' He thought as he stared grimly at the pyre. 

Then Mance came walking down, his arms in shackles, and now he only wore a black tunic, his furs discarded, but the man walked down the stairs, his head held high. He had to give to the man he looked strong. He hoped he would stay that way until the end.'

Mance stopped as the black-clothed guards of Stannis stood at his side. Stannis walked up to him, looked Mance over, and gave him a look of respect. One King to another. "Mance Rayder, you have called yourself King Beyond the Wall. Those who follow do the same, but Westeros has only one King." Stannis started, cutting straight to the point.

"Not only that, you also have broken your vows to Nights Watch. Because of that crime, you are an oathbreaker, and your life is forfeited." Stannis looked over to the crowd, his face a stern mask.

"You can live however you bend the knee; swear your fealty to me as your King. You will lose a hand for the crime of Oathbreaking, as you have to protect the people of Westeros. As a good deed, it doesn't mean it was out of the bad. My hand can be an asset to that account." That surprised him; he had not heard Stannis speak of that, but he revered the Freeflok as part of his Kingdom or that Mance would lose a hand.

Mance gave him a look and looked toward the captured Freeflok, one that had already given him the answer of what Mance would do even if he did not know the answer. "Kneel and live," Stannis said firmly.

"I once swore to protect the realms of men." Mance began as he looked around, his eyes wandering. "I never broke it. The people I led chose me to lead them, and I shall not break that trust to lead them into Southern War, even if he is perhaps the best option Westeros has of the ones who are squabbling over that iron chair." Mance spoke clearly, and he felt he was right. The Freeflok should be fighting in a war for the South when the dead and White Walkers are coming.

Mance took a deep breath and said. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." Stannis nodded, and Mance was chained to the post in the center of the pyre. Mellisandra stepped forward, still in her lightly cloth outfit.

"Man or woman, young or old, we all must choose a side. Will you choose the true god or the falls? The god of light or terror in the dark. We choose between good and evil. The great darkness is coming, and we will only prevail if we stand fast in the Lord of light." Mellisandra proclaimed, her words a rallying cry for the believers of Rholor.

She forward and received a torch, and all the while, her face was blank. He flowed the flickering flames of the torch as she made her way to the pry. She turned then the gathered captive Freefolk. "Men and women of the Freefolk, you have chosen a false king for you to save you. There is only one true King, and he is here among us. His name is Stannis Baratheon, Azor Hai, the promised prince and protector of the realms of men." Mellisandra gestured toward Stannis, who looked just as passive as did before. 'Did the man ever smile? He was being praised into the sky.' He thought.

"See, now, what happens to those on the path of darkness," Mellisandra said, turning toward the pyre. The start of the lighting of the pyre sent a shiver down his spine. His head was still high, yet there was a slider of fear in his eyes, and he did not blame the man. 'Stay strong,' he thought, yet the anger in his cut increased.

Then the flames started to lick Mance, and as any man, he tried to move. His eyes, now traced in fear, as the flames grew higher, as did his disgust and anger. The first moans of pain escaped Mance, and that noise stirred him into action.

He walked toward the armory and found what he was looking for as he heard Mance's cries of agony. He took a deep breath, aimed, and let loose. He had just defied a King as the arrow hit his mark and landed in Mance's heart. The gathered crowd gaps in surprise, and all eyes stared at him.

Mance, monetary shock, gave him a look and smiled at him before the light retreated from his eyes. He gave everyone a look and walked away from the burning corpse of another man he had admired and killed.