The Demon of Winterfell

Chapter Thirty-Three: The King

Emmelyne stood in Castle Black's yard, watching Jon train a young boy. He was around fourteen, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was tall and skinny, but not very fast. Jon managed to knock him down, the boy glaring from beneath his shield. Ghost and R'hllor lied in the dirt together, fighting lazily over a bone. Jon smiled as he helped up the boy. "Come," he said. "Try it again. Drive at me. Keep your shield up. Or I'll ring your head like a bell."

 Emmelyne's gaze drifted to the rack of bows in the corner of the yard. A barrel of arrows stood beside it, and a row of targets was across from it. "Shouldn't you be training, too?" a girl asked one of the brothers as she sewed a dress.

The girl was pretty, with long dark hair and brown eyes. She had large front teeth. The man she spoke to was large and round, with short black hair and brown eyes, as well as the start of a beard. "Well, I'm hardly a new recruit," he replied.

His voice seemed to always hold some level of anxiety. The girl looked up at him quizzically. "How many brothers can say that they've killed a white walker and a Thenn? I might be the first in history," he chuckled.

Emmelyne smiled at the interaction. It seemed the man wanted to impress the girl. Emmelyne looked back at the bows, finally giving in to her desire. She stepped over to the rack, choosing a bow and picking up an arrow. A few brothers turned to look at her, some laughing and others completely interested. Jon watched as well, waiting to see what she could do. With all eyes on her, Emmelyne knew she needed to impress everyone or be mocked for the rest of her time at Castle Black. She nocked the arrow, aimed, and loosed. The arrow flew, hitting just above the center. She smirked, picking up another arrow. Nock, aim, loose. This time, the arrow hit the center. Jon chuckled as he moved to her side. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he questioned.

"When I was with the Brotherhood, their archer, Anguy, trained me," she replied.

Jon nodded. "Well, it's impressive, I'll give you that."

Emmelyne felt eyes on her, and when she turned, she noticed a man. He was older, with thinning white blond hair and a matching beard. He watched her with piercing blue eyes that felt like they could see into her soul. "Who's that?" she asked

"Alliser Thorne," Jon replied. "Don't mind him. He hates everybody."

Emmelyne nodded. Jon smiled a little, patting her shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you to your arrows. I've got to get back to training Olly."

"Alright," Emmelyne agreed.

He offered her one more smile before making his way back over to the young boy, Olly. Emmelyne managed to tune out his instructions, nocking another arrow. But then she saw Melisandre behind Jon. She hadn't even seen the Red Woman walk over. It was like she had appeared out of thin air. "The king wants a word," Melisandre told Jon.

She smiled before walking away. Emmelyne turned slowly back to the target. She aimed, biting her lip as she loosed the arrow into the center.

Once night fell, everyone stood, waiting for Mance Rayder's execution. He was to be burned at the stake. Two guards led him out, and Emmelyne looked him over. He was older, but not extremely old. His hair was on the long side, dark and kept swept back away from his face. His eyes were dark. Gray hairs formed the start of a messy beard on his chin. Emmelyne watched as he eyed his pyre, not saying a word. Stannis looked at him. "Mance Rayder, you've been called the King beyond the Wall. Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy."

Mance looked from Stannis, to the band of wildlings that stood nearby, then to Jon. "Kneel and live," Stannis stated.

Mance finally spoke. "This was my home for many years. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

Stannis smiled slightly, nodding his head. The two guards turned Mance toward the pyre. Emmelyne found herself wanting to know more about the King beyond the Wall. And as he looked upon the pyre that would ultimately cause his demise, she saw fear in his eyes. The guards tied him to the wooden stake. Melisandre stepped forward. "We all must choose," she said. "Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false."

She stepped to the side, taking a torch from a man who stood to the side. Mance stared straight ahead, defiance showing clear on his face. "Free folk," Melisandre acknowledged, "there is only one true king and his name is Stannis. Here stands your king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness."

She turned to Mance, and Emmelyne knew instantly that she wasn't going to let this man suffer the horrible death of burning. She pushed through the crowd, moving to the rack of bows. Her fingers curled around polished wood, her grip so tight that her fingertips turned white. She grabbed an arrow; she knew she needed one killing shot. Melisandre ignited the pyre. Emmelyne adjusted herself, nocking the arrow, aiming. Mance was shaking, his breathing ragged. Emmelyne stood stiffly, waiting for the flames to grow higher. Mance let out a series of gasps, panic increasing with each breath. Emmelyne loosed the arrow.

It flew straight, going cleanly through his eye, sticking into the wood behind him. He slumped forward, dead. Everyone spun around to face her. Jon caught her eye, and he gave her a stiff nod. She had done a good job. Her fingers were numb as she released the bow, the wood clattering to the floor. Without a word she turned, walking off in the direction of her room.