Naveena LANNISTER :||: Queen Series #2

10) You Won't Be Getting A Throne

Naveena
I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to let him know that it's okay; I didn't come all this way for him to love me. I travelled all this way, endangering my life, becoming an enemy of the realm to have someone I could trust. Someone I know wouldn't stab me in the back. I hadn't planned on anything else, seeing as he was in the Night's Watch. I just knew I needed him. No way in the seven kingdoms did I expect Jon to just fall at my feet. But that didn't mean I didn't miss him.

I'd been in love with Jon Snow since we were children. The four of us playing in the wood, on that old rock, the one we slid down. Robb and Theon were gaining on us, so he took me into the sheltered hollow of the rock and in the excitement of it all, he'd kissed me. A bastard had kissed me. Back then, I was a bastard too—a ward of the King's. When I'd met Jon again at nineteen, he'd still been a bastard and I'd been a lady.

The courtyard was full; rangers, stewards, builders all gathered to witness the burning of Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Gilly had woken me up at the crack of dawn so we wouldn't miss it. She'd explained who he was and what he'd done, only remembering some of what Sam had told her. From what I understood, Mance Rayder had reunited all ninety clans of Wildlings under one goal, to bring them south of the Wall. Gilly had then spouted some nonsense about White Walkers who were going to come and kill everyone, and that she'd seen one and Sam had killed it. The girl was barking.

The sun was rising; it's rays only just peaking above the horizon in the cold, grey dawn. A thin layer of snow had settled over the place, including the pyre, built yesterday afternoon while I'd been sleeping.

I stood beside Shireen and Selyse, Melisandre on the other side of the Queen, closest to the king. Mance Rayder was a big man, his hands in irons as two soldiers, bearing the sigil of a stag encompassed in flames, escorted him down the steps of the keep into the courtyard. Plenty of men stood around holding lit torches as the light hadn't quite reached us, the royal party standing closer to the pyre while the host of men in black stood back with the soldiers.

"Mance Rayder," Stannis spoke to the man. "You've been called the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee; I promise you mercy."

There was silence, the wildling man glancing behind my brother to the few men held prisoner here at Castle Black that had been allowed to watch their king burn. Mance's eyes travelled over me before locking onto Jon, stood behind us with his brothers. "This was my home for many years," He spoke, attention back on Stannis. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

Stannis nodded his head in appreciation before gesturing to the pyre. Mance was walked up the steps and chained to the post, facing us. The lady Melisandre stepped forward, Shireen's worried eyes glancing rapidly between the scary stranger man and the scary red woman. "Don't look away," I gently placed my hand on her shoulder, trying to calm and steady her. "It will be noted if you do."

Inhaling deeply, she straightened, steeling herself as the priestess took the flaming torch from the closest knight and turned to us. "We all must choose. Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light or darkness. Good or evil. We choose the true God or the false." She now faced the wildlings gathered together, prisoners of Stannis. "Free folk, there is only one true king, and his name is Stannis. Here stands your king of lies and behold the fate of those who choose the darkness."

Lowering the torch to the pyre she lit every corner, the light of the fire revealed Mance's face through the darkness, his eyes skyward, and his breathing unsteady. He was about to die, and while he had remained clam, his body was beginning to panic. My eyes flickered to Jon, hard brown eyes watching the man suffer. As the flames grew closer to the wildling king, he began to struggle, pulling at his cuffed hands. His wide, fearful eyes rested on his men, a big red-haired man held his chin up, grunting in acknowledgement while the rest couldn't bear to look.