"Hearth Home only held out for an hour." Stannis's expression was grave as he turned his gaze to Melisandre. "By the time I take King's Landing, Winterfell may already have fallen."
Well, one of Melisandre's reasons for persuading Stannis to march south on King's Landing was that they could capture the city within a week and seat him on the Iron Throne.
At that time, after sacrificing Cersei and Euron, perhaps they could resurrect a shadow dragon. Then, as King of the Seven Kingdoms, he could ride that dragon to Winterfell as its savior.
"Daenerys is at Winterfell. With enough dragonglass weapons prepared, Winterfell should be able to hold for half a month," Melisandre said calmly.
Her meaning was obvious: let the Dragon Queen take the brunt of it.
If the Dragon Queen was willing to fight with all her might, Winterfell really might hold for half a month.
"Once I take King's Landing, I'll take the shadow dragon to Winterfell. How about that?" Stannis said to Jon.
"Your Majesty, I am your bannerman, not Daenerys's," Jon said loudly, suppressing his anger as he reminded him.
It was like when the lords of the North faced danger. It was House Stark that should step forward to save them. It would be unthinkable to ask the Lannisters for help.
Bannermen have a duty of loyalty to their liege, and a liege has the responsibility to protect their bannermen.
Otherwise, why is the Duke of Winterfell called the "Warden of the North"?
The King of the Seven Kingdoms also bears the title "Protector of the Seven Kingdoms."
That title is both an honor and a responsibility.
Stannis looked deeply at Jon and said coolly, "When you helped Aegon scheme against me back then, you didn't think of yourself as my bannerman."
Jon's face flushed red, ashamed and at a loss.
"You're wearing Aegon's armor." Sansa, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke up to help her brother out.
Stannis lowered his head and glanced at the smoke-black iron armor on his chest, from which the ruby true-dragon sigil had been removed. He frowned and said, "Daenerys offered it to me of her own accord, so I could deal with the Night King."
Sansa nodded. "I'm not asking you to return the armor. You wield the red sword. You are the savior foretold in the Asshai prophecy.
Even if Aegon were still alive, he would gladly lend his precious armor to the Child of Prophecy.
That kind of big-picture thinking is something we all share."
Stannis narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "What are you trying to say? Don't beat around the bush."
Sansa's gaze was clear and unwavering as she calmly faced the scrutinizing looks of Stannis and Melisandre. "Everyone knows the story of Lightbringer. Even a hero like Azor Ahai had to wield Lightbringer to defeat the Night King.
If you are unwilling to go to Winterfell, we cannot force you. But just as Daenerys set aside past grievances and lent you Aegon's armor, could you lend the red sword to Jon?
The Battle of Winterfell is unavoidable. Both we and the Dragon Queen are prepared to give everything. With the red sword in hand, our chances increase by at least fifty percent."
Stannis's expression changed dramatically, his left hand unconsciously pressing down on the sword hilt that radiated scorching heat.
He said nothing, clenching his jaw, his eyes sharp as blades as he stared fixedly at the calm-faced Sansa.
For the first time, Melisandre no longer looked at that slight moon chanter with casual indifference.
Jon looked at his sister, feeling unfamiliar with her and at a loss.
With just one sentence, had Stannis been turned on his head and pushed to the brink?
"Not just anyone is qualified to use the hero's red sword," the red-robed woman said coldly. "One must know one's place. There is only one Child of Prophecy, and that is King Stannis. Aside from the Child of Prophecy, no one can wield Lightbringer."
A trace of sorrow appeared on Sansa's face. Her image shifted instantly, from a dignified noblewoman to a fragile little white flower swaying in the cold wind. Her eyes reddened as she said, "It's not that I lack self-awareness. It's just that a million Others are bearing down on the city. Its destruction and the fall of the North are right before our eyes. Even knowing it cannot be done, it must still be done."
Stannis was at a loss and could only puff out his cheeks and glare.
"No need to give the sword to me," Jon said, scratching the back of his head, his face scrunched up in embarrassment. "I'm not qualified to use Lightbringer. It could be given to Queen Daenerys.
Last time beneath the Wall, she activated the red sword. That power was terrifying. There's a very real chance she could kill the Night King with a single strike."
Stannis stopped puffing his cheeks and began grinding his teeth.
Sansa said seriously, "No. The red sword cannot be lent to Daenerys."
Jon was completely unable to keep up with his sister's rhythm and asked blankly, "Why?"
Sansa's expression was solemn as she said loudly, "Because of the sacred oath that 'the one who ends the Long Night shall be king'!
King Stannis was there at the time and swore that oath together with Daenerys.
If Daenerys kills the Night King, then even if King Stannis takes King's Landing, it will only be making a wedding dress for her."
She stared at the stunned Jon and pronounced judgment-like words. "The Night King must be killed by you. You are King Stannis's bannerman. If you kill the Night King, then even if King Stannis is far away in King's Landing fighting for the Iron Throne, the credit will automatically fall to him.
Only then will his hard-won capture of King's Landing have meaning!"
Stannis felt an unprecedented irritation and suffocating frustration. He wanted to shout and rebuke Sansa for "spreading heresy," but when he opened his mouth, not a single word came out.
Because he could not find the slightest flaw in her words. They were upright, well-reasoned, and something she could say before the entire world without the least sense of guilt.
Yet why did he find Sansa Stark especially infuriating at this moment?
He had burned her husband alive. He had shattered the couple's dream of the Iron Throne. There was no way she could bear him any goodwill. That was certain. And yet her words were so righteous and aboveboard.
Stannis turned a pleading look toward Melisandre.
Unfortunately, even Melisandre, who had lived for centuries, did not know how to handle the situation before them.
The two exchanged a glance and fell into heavy silence.
Meanwhile, Sansa and Jon were both staring at him with eager eyes.
"Let me think it over," Stannis finally said dully.
Jon frowned and said, "Your Majesty, how long will you need? The army of the Others may reach Winterfell as soon as tomorrow. I have to return to prepare for battle. I can't stay in the Vale for long."
Sansa said with a hint of implication, "The White Walkers will attack the city within the next couple of days. The Battle of Winterfell will not last long either. After dealing with the White Walkers, marching south to King's Landing would not be too late. We have wyverns anyway, so we can redeploy quickly."
After she finished speaking, Second Stag had not reacted yet, but Sansa herself froze.
The more she thought about it, the more familiar those words sounded.
It felt like she had heard someone say them before.
Then Sansa's cheeks suddenly flushed red, before turning pale.
She remembered.
Those words were spoken by none other than herself.
Half a year ago, also at the Eyrie, she had said almost the exact same thing to her husband Aegon: rescuing Winterfell would not take long anyway. With wyverns, they could redeploy quickly, help Jon retake Winterfell, and then march south to King's Landing without delay.
"I cannot lend the sword to Daenerys!"
After Jon and Sansa had taken their leave, Second Stag said to Mel with a grim expression, "Jon Stark is right. We all saw it that day beneath the Wall. In Daenerys's hands, the red sword unleashed terrifying power. She is very likely capable of killing the Night King.
I am jealous of her. That is the truth.
But now that the Long Night threatens the entire world, all I can hope for is that the red sword will wield even greater power in her hands.
However, I cannot give her the chance to be the first to challenge the Night King. She can wait until I die in battle, then pick up the red sword beside my corpse and bring the Long Night to an end.
Defending the Seven Kingdoms is the responsibility of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ending the Long Night is the mission of the savior, and I am both the king and the savior!
Responsibility and mission are the only forces that have driven me to where I stand today."
Second Stag was overcome with emotion. He stepped up to Mel, his withered hands gripping her full shoulders like iron shackles.
He lowered his head until their eyes met and said in a low voice, "For responsibility and mission, I have paid far too much, far more than I could ever have imagined before I met you.
I cannot allow myself to live as a worthless fool.
I must give my responsibility and mission a perfect ending. Do you understand?"
"Ending the Long Night is your mission. No one can take it from you," Mel affirmed.
"You still do not understand," Second Stag said as he released her weakly, his voice filled with helplessness. "Toward Robert, I gave him my absolute loyalty. I devoted everything I had.
When rebellion broke out in the realm, I took the lead and faced death without hesitation. When he was whoring and drinking, I worked tirelessly to govern the kingdom for him.
All because I was his brother and his subject.
Serving my elder brother and king with loyalty was my responsibility, and I fulfilled my duties as both brother and subject with all my heart.
My ending with Robert was not a good one. He did not appreciate my devotion. He ignored my achievements and efforts, and even humiliated me in every possible way.
If I said I did not care at all, that would be nothing but self-deception.
I admit it. I longed for his acknowledgment and gratitude, for affirmation from my brother and king toward his brother and subject.
If he could have said just once, 'Little brother, you did great,' or 'Little brother, this time it was all thanks to you,' even if they were empty words without real reward, I would have been happy. Because that would have meant my sense of duty had been recognized."
As Second Stag spoke, he seemed to sink into his memories. After a long silence, he finally sighed. "But I do not regret it. Because regardless of whether Robert acknowledged me or not, I fulfilled my responsibility. As a brother and a subject, I have no regrets.
If everyone could fulfill their duties, if Renly could have done the same as I did, Westeros would not be in the state it is today."
"Do you understand now?" he looked at Mel and asked the same question once more.
Melisandre gently caressed his forehead with compassion. "I will go to Winterfell with you."
Second Stag nodded. A stiff smile tugged at his solemn face. "Once I was a brother and a subject. After Robert's death, I became a king and a savior.
I will pay any price I can endure to fulfill my responsibilities as king and savior.
As long as I have done my utmost, no matter the outcome, my responsibility will have been fulfilled. That is enough."
Though it sounds like a long story, Jon's attempt to persuade Second Stag did not actually take much time.
Daenerys and Sansa left Winterfell together and also returned to Winterfell on the same day.
Daenerys arrived at Karhold at night, found a whale by the sea, and returned to Winterfell in the morning. By evening, Second Stag's wyvern legion descended amid thunderous cheers onto the training grounds in front of the Guest Castle.
"God of War! God of War! The number one God of War of the Seven Kingdoms!"
The moment Second Stag leapt down from the wyvern's back, more than ten thousand Winterfell soldiers surrounding him raised their torches high and shouted in unison.
"God of War?" Second Stag was bewildered. "Who?"
But beneath the blazing torchlight, countless shining eyes were fixed on him. Without anyone answering, he already knew who the God of War was.
"I am the God of War of the Seven Kingdoms?" Second Stag felt an inexplicable surge of excitement at being acknowledged.
Come to think of it, at eighteen he had defeated Mace Tyrell and a host of Reach lords, one of whom, Randyll Tarly, had been grinding his teeth in fury. At nineteen, he took Dragonstone. At twenty-four, he defeated the Iron Fleet and conquered Great Wyk, the largest island of the Iron Islands and the seat of the Seastone Chair. After that came the Battle of the Blackwater, where Tyrion practically cheated, so that one does not count.
Beyond the Wall, one thousand men broke a force of one hundred thousand wildlings. That should qualify him to be called a God of War, should it not?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Second Stag saw a truly invincible presence. The Dragon Queen stood at the castle gates, smiling at him.
Was she laughing at me?
Second Stag's face flushed red.
Indeed, calling himself a "God of War" in front of her was simply…
"God of War! God of War! The number one God of War of the Seven Kingdoms!" the Dragon Queen shouted.
His shame-filled thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Second Stag stared dumbfounded at the Dragon Queen, who was pumping her fist and cheering, utterly at a loss.
(End of chapter)
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