Jon's voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the Great Hall, shocking everyone. They stared at him as if he were some kind of monster.
Refusing a King's reward in public?
Your Grace, he's practically slapping you in the face!
Sure enough, Stannis's mood, which had just lifted, plummeted instantly. His blue eyes locked onto Jon like arrows.
"Jon! This is a royal decree! How dare you refuse? This is defiance!" Alester Florent, the Hand of the King, jumped out immediately to accuse him. He needed to appear more loyal than anyone right now.
"This is insolence!"
"Jon! Apologize to His Grace at once!"
For once, the King's Men and the Queen's Men found common ground, leaping up to condemn Jon. Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr looked at Jon with concern, unsure what he was playing at. Jon didn't strike them as the type of fool who didn't know when to advance or retreat.
But the hall was filled with accusations and curses. Those who cared for Jon were sweating for him.
Beric and Thoros remembered what Jon had said during the mutiny at Harrenhal. especially when facing Roose Bolton's threats, his reckless bravado: "Worst case, I go back to the Wall. Or let Robb kill me."
They both thought that after seeing the splendor of King's Landing, Jon would have forgotten those words. He was young; it was normal, understandable even.
Who didn't say stupid things when they were young?
But refusing the King to his face? That was irrational. Beric braced himself and stepped forward. "Jon! Apologize to His Grace immediately!"
Jon remained unmoved, looking straight into Stannis's eyes.
Grand Maester Pycelle sighed, shaking his head. It was a pity. Harrenhal wasn't exactly a prize, but Jon's method of refusal was too crude. He was too young, after all.
Only Varys stared at Jon intently. He didn't believe Jon would be this reckless without a plan.
"Silence!" Stannis cut off the tirade, his voice laced with impatience and anger. He felt the urge to grind his teeth again.
When the hall fell silent, the newly seated King asked, "Speak. What do you want?"
All eyes focused on Jon again.
"Your Grace," Jon said, "I want to send my two sisters back to the North. They have been in enemy hands and away from their mother for too long."
An excuse!
That was the first reaction of many.
Idiot!
That was the second.
"An excuse," because they assumed Jon wanted to use escorting Sansa and Arya as a pretext to return to the North and avoid serving Stannis.
"Idiot," because they thought: Jon had already opposed Robb's crown. Did he really think Robb would make him a Duke?
"Jon, this is no time to be thinking about pleasing the Starks! Apologize to His Grace!" Ryman Frey was getting anxious.
Old Walder had given them two tasks: secure political standing for House Frey in the new regime, and win over Jon Snow.
Only when Jon's status was confirmed could the second task be completed. If Jon actually left, Stannis might take his anger out on them.
But Jon ignored him, standing there like a statue in a storm.
Others looked on in disbelief, though some "wise" individuals thought they understood the reason.
"The Starks must treat Jon terribly. Since every generation of Starks sends sons to the Wall, why pick Jon, the bastard? I bet Catelyn just couldn't bear to part with her trueborn sons."
"If the Starks treated him so poorly, why go back to serve them?"
"That's just how people are. sometimes the more you're mistreated, the more loyal you become."
"Sigh... this Jon."
"That's not true! That's not true!" Arya heard the whispers and was on the verge of tears. She grabbed Selyse's sleeve pleadingly. "Your Grace, it's not like that. Jon isn't like that."
Selyse didn't know what to say. Looking at the tomboyish Arya, her first instinct was to brush the girl's hand away to save her lace cuffs.
Listening to the whispers, Sansa shook her head instinctively. She wanted to tell them her mother wasn't like that. Going to the Wall was Jon's own decision.
But thinking back... maybe their guesses weren't entirely wrong. When Ned took her and Arya to King's Landing, the only sibling Jon was close to—Arya—had left. No one at Winterfell liked Jon. Maybe that was why he decided to join the Night's Watch.
Sansa suddenly remembered that at every major feast, Jon sat with the squires and stableboys, or hid in a corner.
Thinking of how she used to deliberately distance herself from him, Sansa felt a sting in her nose and a wave of guilt.
What was more despairing was that Stannis seemed to think the same way. He had given Jon his own sword—such a massive honor—and Jon still wanted to leave him. It brought back bad memories for Stannis.
Stannis asked coldly, "What else? Say it all at once."
Jon paused for effect, then spoke. "Also, Your Grace... a plea for help arrived from the Wall some days ago. Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, has gathered a massive army. One hundred thousand wildlings. The Wall is defended by fewer than a thousand men. Castle Black is at risk of falling. I hope Your Grace can send reinforcements to the Wall. And I must return to fulfill my duty as a man of the Night's Watch, to guard the realms of men."
"..."
What?! The Wall?!
Everyone thought Jon wanted to go back to Winterfell. No one expected him to go that far north!
Is this guy stupid? Why go to a frozen hellhole like the Wall?
Hearing this, even Stannis looked baffled. Is there really such a... strange person in this world?
Refusing a dukedom to become a Night's Watchman?!
The Wall? Isn't that where they send criminals?
Stannis absolutely would not allow Jon to go there. The King's Men and Queen's Men wouldn't allow it either. If Jon went to the Wall, they would have no face to ask for rewards themselves.
In Alester's view, it was even more serious. If the lords of the Seven Kingdoms heard that Stannis treated his greatest hero by letting him rot at the Wall, it would breed suspicion and alienation.
Rewarding Jon wasn't just fair; it was a political necessity for Stannis.
Even Varys was taken aback. Jon! Are you serious?!
Before anyone else could speak, Melisandre was the first to intervene. "Jon, you were chosen by the Lord of Light to assist His Grace. The Wall is not where you belong. Furthermore, you have not sworn your final vows."
Seeing Melisandre speak up, the earlier curses turned into earnest persuasion.
Alester Florent, as Hand of the King, led the charge. "Yes, Jon. So what if Mance Rayder has a hundred thousand wildlings? The Wall is seven hundred feet high! And how many of those wildlings are actual fighters? Worst case, His Grace can send all the prisoners in the dungeons to the Wall."
"Jon, wasting your talent at the Wall would be like paving a road with pearls," said Axel Florent, who had previously looked down on Jon.
"Jon!"
"Jon..."
"Oh, Jon..."
Everyone chimed in, trying to talk him out of this ridiculous idea.
Seeing that Jon still wouldn't budge, Stannis finally spoke. "Jon, tell me. As King, what is my title?"
Jon looked at Stannis. "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Stannis Baratheon, the First of His Name."
"Yes. I am the Protector of the Realm. It is for me to decide how to protect the realm. The Wall is not the only place facing danger. There are more places that need your talents. Do not speak of going to the Wall again. Do you understand?! Never mind that you aren't a sworn brother yet; even if you were, I have the power to absolve you of your vows!"
"Understood, Your Grace."
Since Stannis was King now, Jon knew he couldn't defy him too many times in one day without it backfiring.
But Jon also knew that this single refusal wouldn't be enough to make Stannis fully commit. He needed to pull one more big move!