Alliser Thorne's knees slammed into the snow with a dull THUD.
That sound—like a signal.
Everyone in the courtyard stared as if they'd seen a ghost.
They'd expected Thorne to rage. To deny. Even to draw his sword in a final stand.
But they never expected this man—who always flaunted his "knight" title, arrogant beyond measure—to simply kneel!
Does this mean... he admits it?
Admits Lynn's seemingly absurd yet piercing accusation?
He really is a Targaryen dog?
Wants to use the White Walker invasion to help the Targaryens restore their rule?
That thought sent chills down every Night's Watchman's spine.
If true, Alliser Thorne isn't just guilty of hiring an assassin.
He's a traitor!
Betraying the Night's Watch, the North, the entire Seven Kingdoms!
"Thorne..."
Jeor Mormont's voice carried helpless despair.
He looked at Thorne kneeling like a puddle of mud, his old eyes filled with bone-deep disappointment and fury.
He could tolerate Thorne's sharp tongue. His stubbornness.
But he could never tolerate a Night's Watchman—a sworn brother unto death—harboring treacherous intent!
"Lift your head! Look at me!"
Mormont took a deep breath and roared.
Thorne's body shuddered violently. He slowly raised his head.
That face—once full of arrogance and cruelty—now held only ashen despair.
"Is what Lynn said... true?"
Each of Mormont's words seemed squeezed through clenched teeth.
Thorne's lips moved.
He wanted to deny it. But when he met Lynn's calm, all-seeing eyes—
Every lie stuck in his throat.
He knew—before this man, any defense was futile.
Like a prisoner stripped naked, all his secrets exposed under the sun.
That feeling—more terrifying than death.
"I..."
Thorne managed one word, then fell silent.
His silence—the best answer.
"Bastard!"
Mormont could no longer contain his fury. He drew his longsword.
Step by step, he walked toward Thorne, blade carving a cold line through the snow.
"Have you forgotten your oath?"
"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death!"
"I shall wear no crowns and win no glory!"
"I shall live and die at my post!"
Mormont's voice echoed through the silent courtyard, full of grief and disappointment.
"You oath-breaking traitor!"
"You've defiled the Night's Watch's honor!"
"You... don't deserve this black cloak!"
Mormont raised his sword high, cold blade aimed at Thorne's neck.
"No! Lord Commander! Don't!"
Thorne finally broke. He scrambled backward on hands and knees, a foul stench spreading from beneath him.
"I was wrong! I was foolish! Please give me another chance!"
"A chance?"
Mormont laughed coldly.
"When you sent someone to kill Lynn, did you give him a chance?"
"Plotting to overthrow the realm, breaking your oath—you're beyond redemption!"
The sword—whistling through the air—descended!
Then—
"Wait, Lord Commander."
A calm voice stopped Mormont's motion.
Lynn.
Mormont turned, looking at Lynn with confusion.
"Lynn, he's a traitor. Don't plead for him!"
"My lord."
Lynn walked to Mormont's side, bowing slightly.
"According to Northern law, and Night's Watch tradition."
"He who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
The courtyard plunged into silence again.
Everyone understood Lynn's meaning.
He's not pleading.
He's claiming the right to execute!
Mormont looked into Lynn's calm eyes. He understood.
Lynn wants to use Thorne's blood, Thorne's head, to proclaim to everyone who holds unquestionable authority at Castle Black!
Very Northern.
Very... Stark.
And perfect—I've been meaning to elevate Lynn anyway.
An excellent opportunity to establish dominance.
Mormont nodded slowly, then lowered his sword.
He looked at Thorne—who'd soiled himself in terror—with nothing but disgust.
"Lynn, you do it."
"Considering he once served faithfully, make it quick. Let him suffer less!"
Lynn nodded and walked to Thorne.
"Alliser Thorne."
Lynn's judgment rang out, clear in every ear.
"You broke your oath. Murdered a brother. Plotted treason."
"I, Lynn, acting for the Nine Hundred and Ninety-Seventh Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, hereby pronounce."
"You are sentenced to..."
"Death!"
Thorne's body went limp. He fainted completely.
Lynn paid no mind. He slowly drew Longclaw.
The Valyrian steel blade gleamed with an eerie red light under the gray sky.
He didn't look at Thorne on the ground. His gaze swept over every Night's Watchman present.
They all lowered their heads, not daring to meet Lynn's eyes. Only awe remained.
Lynn raised the sword.
He remembered Ned Stark's words at Winterfell's execution block.
"If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words."
Lynn walked to the unconscious Thorne, prodding his face with the scabbard.
"Wake up, noble Ser Thorne. You're not dead yet."
Thorne stirred awake. When he saw the raised sword in Lynn's hand, his pupils contracted sharply.
"Tell me. Why did you want to kill me?"
Lynn asked calmly.
Thorne knew he was doomed. Hatred filled his eyes.
"I hate you! I wish I could tear you to pieces!"
He shrieked:
"Damned deserter! You're the Night's Watch's disgrace!"
"Good."
Lynn nodded. No more words.
Hand up. Sword down.
SLASH.
A head—cleanly severed—rolled several times through the snow before stopping.
Those venomous eyes still wide open, reflecting the North's gray sky and the figure standing with sword in hand.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (30+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here: patreon.com/DarkGolds
Happy reading, everyone!