Sylva Baratheon sat in the dimly lit King's Tower at Castle Black, her jaw clenched, grinding her teeth as her mind churned over the matter at hand. The battle of the Wall had been won, but the war within her own heart was far from over. Mance Rayder was captured, a man who once threatened the realm now her captive. She could feel the weight of her decision pressing down on her like the cold walls of the tower. Would she show mercy or execute him? Her thoughts were a storm, each one clashing against the other.

The door creaked open, interrupting her contemplation. She turned sharply, her sharp eyes narrowing as the red priest entered, his presence always unsettling.

"You have been thinking long, my queen," The red priest said, his voice low, and mystical as always. His red eyes almost shining in the dimly lit room.

Sylva stared at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. "What do you want, priest?"