Falling Like || Jon Snow

23| 𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱

castle black, the wall

— PERHAPS THEY SHOULD HAVE GONE TO WHERE THE BROTHERS WERE HOLDING MANCE IMMEDIATELY. After all, time was of the essence, wasn't it? Instead they went to the hall for ale, both of them taking this brief moment to stew in their thoughts over Stannis' offer.

"You know," Nymeria finally spoke after a while, her nose scrunched with disinterest. "I could give a fuck less about ruling Bear Island. Or Dorne. Or anywhere, for that matter."

He gave her a long look. "You don't want to be freed from the Watch?"

"I don't believe in the wills of privileged, selfish kings. And that's exactly what Stannis is. He thinks he's different because he's fought and bled in the mud, but what does he do when the fighting is done? He washes off the mud in a hot bath that some servants poured and sleeps in a lordly bed with silk sheets and counts the gold that he isn't paying his soldiers. And now there's a fire sorceress whispering in his ear that the one true god has chosen him." She rolled her eyes. Jon was quiet, and she turned her attention to him now. "What about you? You don't want to be Lord Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North?"

"It wouldn't be real." he shook his head. "I took a vow. If I build the rest of my life on those broken vows, what would it be worth?"

Her lip curled up at the corner in amused admiration. "Nothing to the most honourable of men, I suppose."

He shot her a glance that she couldn't quite read, though there was some form of amusement in it. "I'm not the most honourable of men."

"No? Then who?"

He was quiet for a second. "What about your grandfather?"

Her eyes flitted downwards as she sighed. "He was... but he never struggled with his post at the Watch. There was no other temptation for him. It's easier to keep a vow that is everything you want than one that forces you to leave behind what you truly desire."

He shook his head, and they sat in silence for another beat. "I won't break my vows, and I won't take Winterfell. But I still have to try to convince Mance. He doesn't deserve to burn."

"No one does." She agreed.

He stood. "I could use your help."

She gave him a strange look. "I don't think the King Beyond the Wall likes me very much."

"I think he would, if he spoke to you. It's worth a try, isn't it?"

She sighed. "Right as usual, Lord Snow. Come on."

Mance was being held in one of the above-ground chambers rather than a cell below. He was well-guarded, though. As soon as she set foot in the room, Nymeria thought he didn't look much like a man ready to take advice, nor bend the knee. He barely gave her and Jon a glance before turning his eyes back to the light streaming in the small window.

"Brought a friend?" Mance spoke after a moment. "Mormont was one of the most honourable men I've ever known. I must say, I was always curious about the granddaughter he broke the rules to bring into the Watch. The curiosity. Suppose I lived just long enough to finally meet you." Well that wasn't what she'd expected. She was sure he would despise her for all she'd done, but he seemed more as though he thought she was actually worth something because of what she'd been worth to the Lord Commander. "So here we are."

"Here we are." Jon echoed.

"When we first met, you were my prisoner. And now, for our last meeting..."

"This doesn't have to be our last meeting." Jon told him.

"No." Mance agreed. "But it will be."

Nymeria frowned. "You know what Stannis wants?"

"He wants me to bend the knee. And he wants the Free Folk to fight for him." For a second, his expression looked contemplative. "I'll give him this much; he's bold."

"Shouldn't a king be bold?" Jon pointed out.

"Oh, aye. I respect him. If he gets what he wants, I expect he'll be a better ruler than the fools sitting on the Iron Throne the last hundred years. But I'll never serve him."

"You told me you weren't here to conquer. You told me your people had bled enough."

"That's right." Mance's voice had an edge to it now. "I don't want them bleeding for Stannis Baratheon either."

"You spent your life convincing 90 clans to come together for the first time in history. There were giants at our gate." Nymeria's voice was imploring. "Jon told me all about it. It's impossible, but you accomplished it. Now... now they're all going to die. For someone who spent his life trying to save those most consider savages, you don't seem to see very clearly."

"I see clear enough." Mance snapped.

"We both know what's coming for them." Darkness tinted her tone. "I watched the dead slaughter our men at the Fist of the First Men. Your people don't deserve it any more than mine did."

"You can't just let them all die.. For what? Your pride?" Jon added, making the King Beyond the Wall look sharply over at them.

"Pride?" he stood, shaking his head. "Fuck my pride. That's not what this is about."

"Then bend the knee, and save your people."

Mance huffed. "They followed me because they respected me. Because they believed in me. The moment I kneel for a southern king, that's all gone." Nymeria let his words sink in, an understanding coming over her as she did.

"And how many tens of thousands are out there right now?? How many women? How many children? And you won't go out and rescue them – because why? You're afraid of looking afraid."

"Oh, I am afraid." he assured them. "No shame in that."

"They won't follow Stannis." Her voice was quiet with realisation. "Even if you bent the knee. They follow you because you put years of blood and sweat into protecting them. Uniting them. Stannis hasn't proved himself."

"That's right." Mance nodded. "And I doubt he will ever find anything that could prove him to them. The Free Folk are a stubborn lot."

"So I've noticed."

The room was quiet as the reality of things set in. Mance would not bend. Stannis and his Red Woman would not bend. "How will they do it?" he asked eventually. "Beheading? Hanging?"

Jon looked up at him sombrely. "They'll burn you alive."

Nymeria felt a pang as she watched a twitch of fear enter his face now. But all he said was, "Bad way to go." he took a deep, shaky breath. "I'll be honest with you. I don't want to die. And burnt to death... I don't want people to remember me like that, scorched and screaming. But it's better than betraying everything I believe."

"And your people will sing songs about you." Jon said bitterly. "A great hero. Choosing to burn rather than kneel. Until winter comes and the White Walkers come for us all and there's no one left to sing."

Mance sighed heavily. "You're a good lad. Truly you are. But if you can't understand why I won't enlist my people in foreigner's war... there's no point explaining." He nodded at Nymeria. "She understands. You should follow where she leads. Smartest lass I ever met."

°

Watching Mance burn was probably the most difficult thing. She stood guarding the other Free Folk prisoners while Melisandre went on her tangent, and she clenched her jaw when the woman lit the pyre. All she could think was how horribly wrong this was. He's no friend of mine. That was what her grandfather had said. But they had been friends. Once. And friend or foe, this was not the fate he would wish for anyone. She couldn't help how her face contorted when Mance gasped, how her fingers clenched around her dagger's hilt when his grunts and groans of agony finally began slipping out. She hardly noticed that Jon had stormed off until something happened that nearly made her flinch back. An arrow suddenly pierced Mance Rayder's heart, and as he took his last breath, his eyes wide, she thought it was relief she saw on his face.