Castle Black — The Wall
The wind never stopped at Castle Black.
It howled through the crumbling towers, whipped the black cloaks of the men on the wall, and carried the biting cold of the far north into every stone crevice. The sky was the color of old iron, heavy with clouds that promised more snow before nightfall.
Jon Snow stood at the top of the Wall, looking north.
He did this often now. Not because he expected to see anything—the haunted forest was a sea of white and grey, endless and empty—but because looking north reminded him of what he had lost. And what he was trying to protect.
"Lord Commander."
Jon turned. Eddison Tollett—Dolorous Edd—stood a few feet away, his face even gloomier than usual.
"There's an army approaching from the south," Edd said. "A lot of men. We can't tell their number from this distance, but even from here we can tell that some of them are on beasts—like horses we've never seen or heard anything like before."
Jon frowned. "From the south?"
"Aye. About a mile out. The scouts spotted them from the tower." Edd shrugged. "Could be Stannis's backup. Could be someone else. Hard to tell from this distance."
Jon said, "Let's go. I need to see."
---
Jon and Edd descended from the Wall and climbed to the battlements above the gate of Castle Black. They found Samwell Tarly there with a few other brothers of the Night's Watch.
The yard below was chaos—brothers of the Night's Watch moving about, some to the armory, some to the walls, some just trying to stay out of the way. Jon ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the southern horizon.
The army was still a mile out, but even at this distance, Jon could see that it was not Stannis Baratheon's army.
Stannis's men were ragged, desperate ghosts—starving, freezing, their armor rusted, their banners faded. They had marched north with fire in their hearts, but the cold had doused it.
This army was different.
They moved with discipline. With purpose. Their formation was tight, their banners red and bright even in the grey light and the heavy snow. And at their head, riding horses that looked too large, too dark, too... wrong... were figures that Jon couldn't quite make out.
"See, those beast-like horses are massive, especially those dark ones," Edd muttered beside him.
Samwell said, "Those aren't horses. Those are monsters."
Jon's hand rested on Longclaw's pommel.
"I've seen many things since joining the Night's Watch," Jon said quietly. "Wildlings. White Walkers. Wights. Giants. Mammoths. I've heard of giant snow bears, great elks, giant ice spiders." He paused. "But this... this is something new."
Edd asked, "What should we do, Lord Commander?"
"Nothing," Jon said. "We are the Night's Watch. We took a vow to stay neutral and never choose sides in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms know that. We're just a bunch of unwanted poor souls, criminals, or bastards dumped here to defend against the wildlings. They will not attack us."
Edd looked at him. "Do you think they are here for Stannis?"
Jon said, "I don't know. But we will find out soon."
---
Stannis's Camp — Half a Mile from Castle Black
Stannis Baratheon stood on the edge of the camp, staring at Jacob's army, which had stopped a mile from Castle Black. The army was barely visible through the heavy snow.
He had come north to save the realm, to prove himself the rightful king, to rally the North to his banner. Instead, he was trapped in a frozen hell—his army starving, some of his mercenaries gone, his cause crumbling like the ice beneath his boots.
Davos Seaworth stood at his side with a few other knights. Davos took out a Myrish eye—a spyglass—and peered through it.
"I don't recognize them, Your Grace," Davos said. "That's not any house sigil I've ever seen. And those horses they're riding—I've never seen or heard about anything like them before."
Stannis said, "Tell me about their sigil."
Davos continued looking through the spyglass at Jacob and his army. "A dragon. Black dragon head on a crimson field."
Stannis said thoughtfully, "The Targaryen sigil is a three-headed red dragon breathing flames on a black field. And there are no Targaryens in Westeros." He paused. "Whoever they are, they're not from the North. The northern houses use wolves, bears, moose—not dragons. Do you recognize any of them?"
Davos shook his head. "No. The ones leading the army look young, and there are a few young girls with them, but they don't look ordinary by any means. And the army behind them—from what I can tell—look like YiTish folk."
Stannis frowned. "YiTish folk?"
"Aye. They are dressing like knights from the Golden Empire of Yi Ti. It is located in the far east of Essos, far beyond the Red Waste and Qarth, Your Grace."
Davos handed the spyglass to Stannis. "Here, take a look, Your Grace."
Stannis took the spyglass and looked at Jacob and his army.
He didn't recognize Jacob or the others. He didn't recognize Sansa or Arya—he had never seen them before. He didn't see Rickon riding his wolf, as the wolf was behind the nightmare horses, keeping its distance from them.
But he paused when he saw Brienne.
Stannis handed the spyglass back to Davos. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "They are just children leading that army. And I think I've seen one of them before. I just don't remember where."
Melisandre and Stannis's wife, Selyse, emerged from the camp and stood beside them.
Melisandre's red dress was out of place in the snow, but she seemed not to feel the cold. Her red hair moved in the wind like fire. Her eyes were fixed on the approaching army.
Stannis turned to her. "Do you know who they are, my lady?"
Melisandre did not answer. Her gaze skipped over Jacob and his wives, then focused briefly on the nightmare horses. Then she fixed her eyes on the blurred figures of Stiles, Victoria, Arya, Chris, and Kitty on Malia's shoulder. She could feel a terrifying power radiating from them. She could feel the strength of their blood.
"Lady Melisandre," Stannis said, sharper now.
Melisandre blinked. "I can't see them from here, Your Grace." Her voice was uncertain. "But I feel something... something powerful and terrifying coming from them."
Stannis's jaw tightened. "Powerful how?"
Melisandre didn't answer.
Her eyes widened.
She fell to her knees.
Stannis and Davos stepped back. Stannis's wife, Selyse, looked down at Melisandre with something between awe and jealousy.
Then the snow around Melisandre began to melt.
Not slowly—quickly. The ice beneath her knees turned to steaming water. The snow on her red dress evaporated into steam. Her face was pale, her lips trembling.
Then she screamed. Her hands flew to her head. Her eyes squeezed shut.
"Melisandre!" Stannis stepped toward her, but Davos caught his arm.
"Wait, Your Grace."
Melisandre's body shook. The heat from her body grew stronger and hotter, forcing Stannis, his wife Selyse, Davos, and a few knights to back away from her. The snow within a circle of four meters around her had melted completely, turning into muddy, steaming ground.
And in her head, a voice spoke.
It was deep. Ancient. Terrible. And yet... kind. Gentle. Like a father speaking to a beloved child.
'Melisandre. My child.'
Melisandre's breath caught. Tears streamed down her face.
'I have watched you. I have guided you. And now, I speak to you directly, because the time has come for great work.'
She tried to speak but couldn't.
'Burn a hundred men in my name. Burn the child of the man you serve—the girl Shireen, whose blood carries the fire of Valyrian kings. Burn her in my name. Do this, and I will give you and Stannis power enough to defeat your enemies. All of them. The false kings in the south. The ones who oppose you here in the north. Even the Night King and his army of the dead.'
The voice paused.
'I can feel powerful blood among those who approach. Capture them and their dark horses at any cost. Burn them in my name. Their blood is strong—stronger than any I have tasted before. Burn them in my name, and I will help you fulfill your destiny and save the world.'
The voice faded.
Melisandre opened her eyes. The steam stopped rising. The snow began to fall again, dusting her red hair with white.
She stood.
Her face was radiant. Her smile was excited.
"Your Grace," she said, her voice trembling with joy. "The Lord spoke to me. He spoke directly to me."
Stannis's eyes widened. "What did the Lord say?"
Melisandre clasped her hands together. "He said he will lend us power. Enough power to defeat our enemies. All of them." Her voice rose. "Your Grace, you are truly the Lord's Chosen. He has spoken your name to me. He has promised you victory."
Stannis's jaw tightened. "What must we do?"
Melisandre's smile did not waver. "The Lord requires a sacrifice. A hundred men, their blood will feed the fire." She did not hesitate—not for a moment—and continued with an excited smile. "And Princess Shireen. Her blood carries the fire of kings. She must be given to the Lord."
Stannis was silent.
Selyse stepped forward. Her face was not horrified. It was not grief-stricken. It was filled with fanaticism and relief.
"It is a good thing," Selyse said to her husband, her voice cold and certain. "Shireen can be useful. Finally. And you can fulfill your destiny."
Davos exploded.
"No." He stepped between Stannis and Melisandre. "No, Your Grace. You cannot. She is your daughter. Your flesh and blood. You cannot burn her."
Stannis's eyes were cold. "Stand aside, Davos."
Davos did not move. "I have served you faithfully for years. I have given you everything. But I will not stand by while you murder an innocent girl."
Melisandre's voice was soft. "It is not murder, Ser Davos. It is sacrifice. It is holy. The Lord demands it, and the Lord rewards those who obey."
Davos turned on her. "You speak of your Lord as if he were good. But what good demands the burning of children? You and your lord are just unnatural, evil demons."
Melisandre's eyes held no anger. Only pity. "You do not understand, Ser Davos. You cannot see the flames. You cannot hear the Lord's voice. But I can. And I tell you, this is the only way."
Davos drew his sword. "I will not let you burn Shireen at the stake. She is a sweet, innocent girl. I will kill you before you do that, you evil demonic witch."
Stannis raised a hand. "Enough. Stop him."
Two of his knights stepped forward. They seized Davos by the arms.
"Take him to his quarters," Stannis said. "He is not to leave. He is not to speak to anyone."
Davos struggled. "Your Grace, please don't do it! I beg you. She's your daughter! If you burn her, you'll be no better than the Mad King. You won't be fit to rule. You're not even fit to be a father. I beg you, don't do it—"
Stannis turned his back.
The knights knocked Davos out and dragged him away.
Stannis looked at Melisandre. "The hundred men. Where do I find them?"
Melisandre smiled. "There are men in your camp who are not loyal. Men who speak of desertion. Men who would run the moment the battle turns against us. They are non-believers and deserters, Your Grace. They would hang anyway. Let their deaths serve a greater purpose." She paused. "And I think Ser Davos should be offered to the Lord too, for calling the Lord a demon."
Stannis nodded slowly. "I will have them arrested. Davos will burn with them too."
"What of Shireen?" Selyse asked. Her voice was eager.
Stannis's face was cold. "I will speak to her myself."
He walked toward his daughter's tent deeper in the camp.
---
Shireen's Tent
The tent was warm—warmer than most. Shireen had been given extra furs, extra charcoal, because she was the king's daughter.
She sat on her cot, reading. The book was old, its leather cover cracked, its pages yellowed. It was a history of the Targaryen kings—the ones who had ridden dragons, who had conquered Westeros, who had burned their enemies to ash.
Shireen had always been fascinated by dragons.
She looked up when her father entered.
"Father." She smiled—a shy, happy smile. Her greyscale scarring pulled at the corner of her mouth, but she didn't try to hide it. Not from him.
Stannis sat beside her.
"Shireen," he said. His voice was softer than it usually was. Almost gentle. "I need to speak with you."
She set down her book. "Is something wrong?"
Stannis looked at her, and for a moment, something flickered in his cold eyes. Something that might have been love. Or guilt. Or both.
"I am fighting for the throne," he said. "You know this. It is my duty. My destiny. I was chosen."
Shireen nodded. "I know, Father."
"But the path is hard," Stannis continued. "Harder than I imagined. My army is starving. My men are freezing. My enemies are many." He paused. "I need... help. Help that only the Lord of Light can provide."
Shireen's brow furrowed. "Lady Melisandre says the Lord speaks to her. That he sees the future in the flames."
"He spoke to her today," Stannis said. "He told her that he will give me power. Enough power to win. But there is a price."
Shireen waited.
"A sacrifice," Stannis said. "A heavy sacrifice. One that only a king can make." He looked into her eyes. "You are a princess, Shireen. Your blood carries the fire of kings. The Lord... he needs you."
Shireen did not understand. Not yet. She only heard that her father needed her and thought that she might become like Melisandre and serve the Lord of Light.
"Then I will help," she said. "I want to help. I want you to win, Father. I want you to be king."
Stannis's hand covered hers. "You are a good daughter. A brave daughter."
Shireen smiled. "I would do anything for you, Father. I'm your daughter. I'm Princess Shireen of House Baratheon."
Stannis nodded. He stood. He did not look back.
As he walked out of the tent, Shireen picked up her book again. She turned the page and continued reading about dragons with a happy smile.
She did not understand what the sacrifice really meant.
---
Stannis's Camp — The Arrests
The arrests began quickly.
Stannis's knights raced against time before Jacob's army arrived. They moved through the camp with swords drawn, dragging men from their tents, from their fires, from their sleep. The soldiers cried out—"What have I done?" "I am innocent!" "Where are you taking me?"—but the knights did not answer.
They had their orders.
Men who had spoken of desertion. Men who had complained about the cold. Men who had doubted Stannis's cause. Men who had looked at the starving horses and the empty supply wagons and whispered that the king was losing. Or simply men who weren't pleasing to the eyes of Stannis's Stormland fanatics and loyalist knights.
Those men were all arrested.
Within minutes, soldiers and Davos were being tied to stakes in a clearing not far from the camp. The stakes were driven deep into the frozen ground. Wood was piled at their feet—dry wood, soaked in oil, ready to catch.
Some of the men wept. Some prayed. Some screamed.
The knights didn't care about their screams and begging. They kept bringing more soldiers and tying them.
---
Jacob and His Army
Jacob had ordered the army to stop when he first saw Melisandre appear next to Stannis.
"Girls, do you feel that?" he asked.
Allison, Lydia, Malia, and Sansa—who were supernatural creatures—and even Arya, now a werewolf, fixed their glowing eyes on Melisandre in the distance.
Allison said, "That woman in red feels evil. Just like the witches we fought in Beacon Hills preserve. And she gives off a repulsive feeling, like the yeti."
Arya growled. "I feel it too. I feel an instinctual urge to kill her." Her eyes narrowed. "That's the Red Woman, by the way. The evil witch."
Jacob raised a hand. "Shh. She's saying something. Let me hear."
Everyone went silent.
Jacob, Malia, Lydia, Arya, and Sansa listened. Even Allison listened—as a Wind Fairy (Air Fairy), becoming an Alpha had given her the ability to control sound, because sound is simply the vibration of air molecules. Anyone who can manipulate air can naturally manipulate sound waves. Although her sound control wasn't as strong as Lydia's, she could amplify sounds to listen.
A few moments later, all of their expressions turned ugly.
They had heard Melisandre telling Stannis to sacrifice his men. Worse, to sacrifice his own daughter. And he had agreed.
Malia growled. "Let's go kill them now."
Jacob said, "Calm down. We will save the little girl and Davos. And we will kill the witch, Stannis, and his fanatic followers." His voice hardened. "Just not yet."
Malia demanded, "What are we waiting for?"
Jacob's smile was cold. "I want Stannis's army to witness him trying to burn his men and even his daughter. I want to know who is against that—and who thinks what Stannis is doing is right and follows him blindly." His eyes narrowed. "Those fanatics? We'll kill them all."
Cogman smirked. "I hope there are too many of them."
Victoria looked confused. "Burning his daughter? What are you talking about?"
Allison quickly explained to her mother and the rest what they had heard Melisandre say to Stannis—and how Davos was the only one against burning Shireen.
Victoria, Chris, Stiles, Brienne, Kai, Ōishi, and the rest of the samurai who heard Allison's explanation all grew angry.
Jacob raised a hand. "I know you want to kill them. But be patient. Wait a little bit."
Just then, a system window appeared in front of Jacob's eyes.
[System Notification]
[Quest Sign-In Available: You can sign in after defeating Stannis and his army, killing Stannis and the Red Woman Melisandre, and saving Princess Shireen, Host.]
[Location Sign-In Available: You can sign in on top of the Wall, Host.]
Jacob smirked. 'Sweet. Two sign-ins at once.'
Aloud, he said, "Alright. Let's get closer to Castle Black. Let Stannis prepare for war and finish preparing for his evil ritual. I'll go there and save Shireen and the other men tied to the stakes before they get burned."
With that, they started heading toward Castle Black again.
---
Castle Black
Jon Snow and his men watched Stannis's camp from the battlements.
They could barely see the knights moving through Stannis's camp. They saw the stakes being driven into the ground and men being tied to them. They saw the wood being piled under the stakes.
"Looks like the king's men are planning to burn those men, just like Mance Rayder," Edd said beside him. "But those are his own men. Why would he burn them?"
Jon said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Stannis's camp.
"Lord Commander," Samwell said quietly. "The approaching army stopped again."
Jon turned to Jacob's army.
The army had halted again. They were closer now—a quarter of a mile. Through the snow, he could see the riders at the front: men and women both, riding horses that seemed to breathe smoke.
And at their head, a young man on a huge black stallion. He wore dark clothes. A red cape flowed behind him.
The riders at the front were conferring with one another. Then three figures broke away from the group—a woman with red hair, riding one of those giant black horses; a small girl with short hair, riding a brown horse not much smaller than the large black ones; and a boy on a black direwolf.
They didn't go toward Stannis's army. They were coming toward the gate of Castle Black.
Jon squinted his eyes and focused on the three figures as they got closer and closer.
Then his eyes went wide. A joyful smile appeared on his face.
"Open the gate!" Jon shouted. "I'll go meet them."
Edd grabbed his arm. "That could be a trap."
Jon looked at him with a smile. "That's not a trap. Those are my sisters and brother."
Samwell and Edd both said in shock, "What?"
Jon ignored them and ran down the stairs, shouting, "Open the south gate!"
To be continued... 😊
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