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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon III (Chapter 10)

They brought forth the King-Beyond-the-Wall with his hands bound by hempen rope and a noose around his neck.

The other end of the rope was looped about the saddle horn of Ser Godry Farring's courser. The Giantslayer and his mount were armored in silvered steel inlaid with niello. Mance Rayder wore only a thin tunic that left his limbs naked to the cold. They could have let him keep his cloak, Jon Snow thought, the one the wildling woman patched with strips of crimson silk.

I'll eat paper if Jon's not gifted a cloak in this story.

+.+.+

Small wonder that the Wall was weeping.

Beneath the weeping Wall, Lady Melisandre raised her pale white hands.

This is hardly important, but when have I ever let that stop me?

It's subzero temperatures in this chapter. Everyone is freezing to death. Why is the Wall weeping?

+.+.+

"We all must choose," she proclaimed. "Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same." Her voice made Jon Snow think of anise and nutmeg and cloves. She stood at the king's side on a wooden scaffold raised above the pit. "We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false."

No, Melisandre. Everything must be grey. Our choices, our morality, our clothing, my mood. . .

+.+.+

Mance Rayder's thick grey-brown hair blew about his face as he walked. He pushed it from his eyes with bound hands, smiling. But when he saw the cage, his courage failed him.

What did they tell him was happening?

If you've never read the books, that's not Mance Rayder. It's glamorized Rattleshirt, the Lord of Bones, disguised as Mance Rayder.

I did not remember it being a cage. Are you telling me they're putting Shireen in a cage? Holy yikes.

+.+.+

The queen's men had made it from the trees of the haunted forest, from saplings and supple branches, pine boughs sticky with sap, and the bone-white fingers of the weirwoods.

And did he bury an acorn for every tree he cut down?

No, because Stannis doesn't plant trees.

+.+.+

The wildling king recoiled from the sight. "No," he cried, "mercy. This is not right, I'm not the king, they—"

Ser Godry gave a pull on the rope.

A clue!

+.+.+

Lady Melisandre watched him rise. "FREE FOLK! Here stands your king of lies. And here is the horn he promised would bring down the Wall."

There's only one king anywhere near her right now.

+.+.+

Two queen's men brought forth the Horn of Joramun, black and banded with old gold, eight feet long from end to end. Runes were carved into the golden bands, the writing of the First Men. Joramun had died thousands of years ago, but Mance had found his grave beneath a glacier, high up in the Frostfangs.

[...]

"FREE FOLK!" cried Melisandre. "Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness!"

The Horn of Joramun burst into flame.

It went up with a whoosh as swirling tongues of green and yellow fire leapt up crackling all along its length. Jon's garron shied nervously, and up and down the ranks others fought to still their mounts as well. A moan came from the stockade as the free folk saw their hope afire. A few began to shout and curse, but most lapsed into silence. For half a heartbeat the runes graven on the gold bands seemed to shimmer in the air.

That fake ass horn reminds me of another (fake ass?) horn.

The horn he blew was shiny black and twisted, and taller than a man as he held it with both hands. It was bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs that seemed to glow redly as the sound swelled. - The Drowned Man, AFFC

+.+.+

"The Horn of Joramun?" Melisandre said. "No. Call it the Horn of Darkness. If the Wall falls, night falls as well, the long night that never ends. It must not happen, will not happen! The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn." She swept a hand toward Stannis, and the great ruby at her throat pulsed with light.

He is stone and she is flame.

Melisandre is a great tool for foreshadowing, all you have to do is predict the opposite of everything she says.

+.+.+

Girding his brows was a red-gold crown with points like twisting flames. Val stood beside him, tall and fair. They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks.

This honey-haired coat rack that only exists to remind us of other characters is wearing a crown similar to Robb's.

Robb's crown looked much as the other was said to have looked in the tales told of the Stark kings of old; an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. - Catelyn I, ACOK

"That means she'll be Jon's queen!" said the fool.

Why is the sister of a king's wife even wearing a crown? Lmao.

+.+.+

Inside his cage, Mance Rayder clawed at the noose about his neck with bound hands and screamed incoherently of treachery and witchery, denying his kingship, denying his people, denying his name, denying all that he had ever been. He shrieked for mercy and cursed the red woman and began to laugh hysterically.

More clues!

+.+.+

Within three heartbeats the whole pit was aflame. Clutching the bars of his cage with bound hands, Mance sobbed and begged. When the fire reached him he did a little dance. His screams became one long, wordless shriek of fear and pain. Within his cage, he fluttered like a burning leaf, a moth caught in a candle flame.

Someone's burning alive, and sounding a lot like Mirri Maz Durr in the process, so that must mean Azor Ahai Daenerys comes next.

+.+.+

Val stood on the platform as still as if she had been carved of salt. She will not weep nor look away. Jon wondered what Ygritte would have done in her place. The women are the strong ones.

He can make me look at the heads, she told herself, but he can't make me see them.

"This one is your father," he said. "This one here. Dog, turn it around so she can see him."

Sandor Clegane took the head by the hair and turned it. The severed head had been dipped in tar to preserve it longer. Sansa looked at it calmly, not seeing it at all. It did not really look like Lord Eddard, she thought; it did not even look real. "How long do I have to look?"

Joffrey seemed disappointed. - Sansa VI, AGOT

+.+.+

Jon Snow had seen enough. "Now," he said.

Ulmer of the Kingswood jammed his spear into the ground, unslung his bow, and slipped a black arrow from his quiver. Sweet Donnel Hill threw back his hood to do the same. Garth Greyfeather and Bearded Ben nocked shafts, bent their bows, loosed.

One arrow took Mance Rayder in the chest, one in the gut, one in the throat. The fourth struck one of the cage's wooden bars, and quivered for an instant before catching fire. A woman's sobs echoed off the Wall as the wildling king slid bonelessly to the floor of his cage, wreathed in fire. "And now his Watch is done," Jon murmured softly.

Hey, remember when Jon watched this happen?

And looked less bothered than Tyrion Lannister?

+.+.+

Mance Rayder had been a man of the Night's Watch once, before he changed his black cloak for one slashed with bright red silk.

Sure, say it again, why not.

+.+.+

Stannis Baratheon drew Lightbringer.

The sword glowed red and yellow and orange, alive with light. Jon had seen the show before … but not like this, never before like this. Lightbringer was the sun made steel. When Stannis raised the blade above his head, men had to turn their heads or cover their eyes. Horses shied, and one threw his rider. The blaze in the fire pit seemed to shrink before this storm of light, like a small dog cowering before a larger one. The Wall itself turned red and pink and orange, as waves of color danced across the ice. Is this the power of king's blood?

Close! It's the power of Rattleshirt's blood.

Storm of light made me smile.

+.+.+

"Westeros has but one king," said Stannis. His voice rang harsh, with none of Melisandre's music. "With this sword I defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. Bend the knee, and I promise you food, land, and justice. Kneel and live. Or go and die. The choice is yours."

[...]

And they came. Slowly at first, some limping or leaning on their fellows, the captives began to emerge from their rough-hewn pen. If you would eat, come to me, Jon thought. If you would not freeze or starve, submit.

Really bodes well for Daenerys that Jon can instantly spot when people are being given the illusion of choice.

+.+.+

Queen's men in studded jacks and halfhelms handed each passing man, woman, or child a piece of white weirwood: a stick, a splintered branch as pale as broken bone, a spray of blood-red leaves. A piece of the old gods to feed the new. Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand.

Melisandre being hanged from a tree would be the most poetic death ever.

+.+.+

They came on, clutching their scraps of wood until the time came to feed them to the flames. R'hllor was a jealous deity, ever hungry. So the new god devoured the corpse of the old, and cast gigantic shadows of Stannis and Melisandre upon the Wall, black against the ruddy red reflections on the ice.

The weirwoods getting a taste of their own medicine. Lol

+.+.+

Next came Rattleshirt in clattering armor made of bones and boiled leather, his helm a giant's skull. Under the bones lurked a ruined and wretched creature with cracked brown teeth and a yellow tinge to the whites of his eyes. A small, malicious, treacherous man, as stupid as he is cruel. Jon did not believe for a moment that he would keep faith. He wondered what Val was feeling as she watched him kneel, forgiven.

This is actually Mance, and I don't know whether I should read into that or not.

+.+.+

It is too cold for this mummer's show, thought Jon. "The free folk despise kneelers," he had warned Stannis. "Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better." His Grace would not listen. He said, "It is swords I need from them, not kisses."

[...]

You can give them land and mercy, but the free folk choose their own kings, and it was Mance they chose, not you.

[...]

The pit fire was burning low, and the king's shadow on the Wall had shrunk to a quarter of its former height. Jon Snow could see his breath in the air. Cold, he thought, and getting colder. This mummer's show has gone on long enough.

A bit of a preview of how King Jon might handle his new subjects.

Wildlings kneeling to save their lives is a mummer's show. I'm laughing.

the king's shadow on the Wall had shrunk to a quarter of its former height.

🌺 metaphors 🌺

+.+.+

"One realm, one god, one king!" cried Lady Melisandre.

The queen's men took up the cry, beating the butts of their spears against their shields. "One realm, one god, one king! STANNIS! STANNIS! ONE REALM, ONE GOD, ONE KING!"

If Melisandre is saying this, I think there's a strong possibility this series ends with multiple self-governing territories, several gods, and many kings and queens.

"Well, there is my claim, as good as Robert's ever was. If your son supports me as his father supported Robert, he'll not find me ungenerous. I will gladly confirm him in all his lands, titles, and honors. He can rule in Winterfell as he pleases. He can even go on calling himself King in the North if he likes, so long as he bends the knee and does me homage as his overlord. King is only a word, but fealty, loyalty, service . . . those I must have." - Catelyn II, ACOK

Lord Gylbert began to speak. He told of a wondrous land beyond the Sunset Sea, a land without winter or want, where death had no dominion. "Make me your king, and I shall lead you there," he cried. "We will build ten thousand ships as Nymeria once did and take sail with all our people to the land beyond the sunset. There every man shall be a king and every wife a queen." - The Drowned Man, AFFC

+.+.+

"Common cause against a common foe, I could agree with that," said Bowen Marsh, "but that does not mean we should allow tens of thousands of half-starved savages through the Wall. Let them return to their villages and fight the Others there, whilst we seal the gates. It will not be difficult, Othell tells me. We need only fill the tunnels with chunks of stone and pour water through the murder holes. The Wall does the rest. The cold, the weight … in a moon's turn, it will be as if no gate had ever been. Any foe would need to hack his way through."

[...]

Yet what Bowen was suggesting went against all of Jon's instincts. "If we seal the gates, we cannot send out rangers," he pointed out. "We will be as good as blind."

"Lord Mormont's last ranging cost the Watch a quarter of its men, my lord. We need to conserve what strength remains us. Every death diminishes us, and we are stretched so thin … Take the high ground and win the battle, my uncle used to say. No ground is higher than the Wall, Lord Commander."

Jon is making the right decision, but I obviously have to highlight the unhappy pomegranate.

+.+.+

"Stannis promises land, food, and justice to any wildlings who bend the knee. He will never permit us to seal the gates."

Marsh hesitated. "Lord Snow, I am not one to bear tales, but there has been talk that you are becoming too … too friendly with Lord Stannis. Some even suggest that you are … a …"

Why would you say that? Stannis Baratheon doesn't have the authority to make that call, and Jon is more than aware of that.

+.+.+

"Lord Stannis helped us when we needed help," Marsh said doggedly, "but he is still a rebel, and his cause is doomed. As doomed as we'll be if the Iron Throne marks us down as traitors. We must be certain that we do not choose the losing side."

"It is not my intent to choose any side," said Jon, "but I am not as certain of the outcome of this war as you seem to be, my lord. Not with Lord Tywin dead."

Pure delusion on Jon's part, and Samwell's not around to call him out on it.

<- Davos III, ADWD

Candlelight gleamed in Lord Godric's black eyes. "If it were, you'd be in chains. It's the queen who rules."

Davos understood. He nurses doubts. He does not want to find himself upon the losing side.

+.+.+

If the tales coming up the kingsroad could be believed, the King's Hand had been murdered by his dwarf son whilst sitting on a privy. Jon had known Tyrion Lannister, briefly. He took my hand and named me friend. It was hard to believe the little man had it in him to murder his own sire, but the fact of Lord Tywin's demise seemed to be beyond doubt.

Sansa not appearing in these thoughts is so loud.

+.+.+

"The lion in King's Landing is a cub, and the Iron Throne has been known to cut grown men to ribbons."

+.+.+

"A boy he may be, my lord, but … King Robert was well loved, and most men still accept that Tommen is his son. The more they see of Lord Stannis the less they love him, and fewer still are fond of Lady Melisandre with her fires and this grim red god of hers. They complain."

"They complained about Lord Commander Mormont too. Men love to complain about their wives and lords, he told me once. Those without wives complain twice as much about their lords."

And Lord Commander Mormont was killed.

+.+.+

The odors of smoke and burned flesh still clung to Jon's blacks. He knew he had to eat, but it was company he craved, not food. A cup of wine with Maester Aemon, some quiet words with Sam, a few laughs with Pyp and Grenn and Toad. Aemon and Sam were gone, though, and his other friends … "I will take supper with the men this evening."

Wait for it.

+.+.+

When Jon entered, four builders were playing at tiles at the table nearest the steps. Closer to the fire sat a group of rangers and a few king's men, talking quietly.

The younger men were gathered at another table, where Pyp had stabbed a turnip with his knife. "The night is dark and full of turnips," he announced in a solemn voice. "Let us all pray for venison, my children, with some onions and a bit of tasty gravy." His friends laughed—Grenn, Toad, Satin, the whole lot of them.

Jon Snow did not join the laughter. "Making mock of another man's prayer is fool's work, Pyp. And dangerous."

I feel for Jon. He knows the king's men are within earshot, and is only trying to protect Pyp.

Unfortunately he's not the greatest at navigating situations like this, so he only sounds like a buzzkill.

+.+.+

"If the red god's offended, let him strike me down."

All the smiles had died. "It was the priestess we were laughing at," said Satin, a lithe and pretty youth who had once been a whore in Oldtown. "We were only having a jape, my lord."

"You have your gods and she has hers. Leave her be."

"She won't let our gods be," argued Toad. "She calls the Seven false gods, m'lord. The old gods too. She made the wildlings burn weirwood branches. You saw."

"Lady Melisandre is not part of my command. You are. I won't have bad blood between the king's men and my own."

Pyp laid a hand on Toad's arm. "Croak no more, brave Toad, for our Great Lord Snow has spoken." Pyp hopped to his feet and gave Jon a mocking bow. "I beg pardon. Henceforth, I shall not even waggle my ears save by your lordship's lordly leave."

He thinks this is all some game. Jon wanted to shake some sense into him.

Do you think Ned Jon will ever explain to Pyp why this isn't a game?

+.+.+

"I'll see that he's more careful," Grenn promised, "and I'll clout him if he's not." He hesitated. "My lord, will you sup with us? Owen, shove over and make room for Jon."

Jon wanted nothing more. No, he had to tell himself, those days are gone. The realization twisted in his belly like a knife. They had chosen him to rule. The Wall was his, and their lives were his as well. A lord may love the men that he commands, he could hear his lord father saying, but he cannot be a friend to them. One day he may need to sit in judgment on them, or send them forth to die. "Another day," the lord commander lied. "Edd, best see to your own supper. I have work to finish."

+.+.+

Val stood on the tower roof, gazing up at the Wall. Stannis kept her closely penned in rooms above his own, but he did allow her to walk the battlements for exercise. She looks lonely, Jon thought. Lonely, and lovely. Ygritte had been pretty in her own way, with her red hair kissed by fire, but it was her smile that made her face come alive. Val did not need to smile; she would have turned men's heads in any court in the wide world.

All the same, the wildling princess was not beloved of her gaolers. She scorned them all as "kneelers," and had thrice attempted to escape. When one man-at-arms grew careless in her presence she had snatched his dagger from its sheath and stabbed him in the neck. Another inch to the left and he might have died.

Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard's sort of honor.

I thought she wasn't a princess, Jon?

Go ahead and start romanticizing a girl that doesn't exist, lord knows that's never backfired on anyone before (you).

Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice.

You chose a cloak, eh?

+.+.+

The taste of hot blood filled Jon's mouth, and he knew that Ghost had killed that night. No, he thought. I am a man, not a wolf. He rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand and spat.

We've lost Arya, Bran, and Rickon, but Jon's still fighting the good fight!

+.+.+

"His Grace is not an easy man. Few are, who wear a crown. Many good men have been bad kings, Maester Aemon used to say, and some bad men have been good kings."

Of course a Targaryen would say that.

I don't think it's possible to be a bad man and a good king.

+.+.+

"I looked at that book Maester Aemon left me. The Jade Compendium. The pages that told of Azor Ahai. Lightbringer was his sword. Tempered with his wife's blood if Votar can be believed. Thereafter Lightbringer was never cold to the touch, but warm as Nissa Nissa had been warm. In battle the blade burned fiery hot. Once Azor Ahai fought a monster. When he thrust the sword through the belly of the beast, its blood began to boil. Smoke and steam poured from its mouth, its eyes melted and dribbled down its cheeks, and its body burst into flame."

Wow! Kind of sounds like being burned alive by dragonfire.

+.+.+

Clydas blinked. "A sword that makes its own heat …"

"… would be a fine thing on the Wall."

Be careful what you wish for.

+.+.+

Jon put aside his wine cup and drew on his black moleskin gloves. "A pity that the sword that Stannis wields is cold. I'll be curious to see how his Lightbringer behaves in battle.

Oh my god, please tell me Stannis's sword breaks in battle.

+.+.+

He read the letter from the Shadow Tower again, sharpened a quill, and unstoppered a pot of thick black ink. He wrote two letters, the first to Ser Denys, the second to Cotter Pyke. Both of them had been hounding him for more men. Halder and Toad he dispatched west to the Shadow Tower, Grenn and Pyp to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

Remember when Ned Stark sent all his men away from King's Landing, and you instantly knew it was a disaster?

+.+.+

The ink would not flow properly, and all his words seemed curt and crude and clumsy, yet he persisted.

Please don't persist. Stop persisting.

+.+.+

When he finally put the quill down, the room was dim and chilly, and he could feel its walls closing in.

Mercy, George. No more.

+.+.+

Perched above the window, the Old Bear's raven peered down at him with shrewd black eyes. My last friend, Jon thought ruefully. And I had best outlive you, or you'll eat my face as well.

I can't do it.

+.+.+

Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him.

Stop.

+.+.+

Jon rose and climbed the steps to the narrow bed that had once been Donal Noye's. This is my lot, he realized as he undressed, from now until the end of my days.

What about after your end of days? Hmmm? Then what??

Final thoughts:

AT LEAST CATELYN AND ROBB DIE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BOOK.

WE HAVE TEN MORE CHAPTERS OF THIS.

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#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon iii

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