Sacrificial Lamb

Hey everyone! Hard to believe that this month is almost over, and that these daily challenges are coming to an end soon. It’s been so much fun to write for these specific prompts! This entry is probably the hardest thing I’ll ever write for this amino, as Shireen’s death affected me terribly. It was the most tragic thing to see, and so incredibly senseless. Rarely ever am I affected by character deaths or gruesome things in film, but after Shireen’s death, I had to turn the television off and walk outside for fresh air. My husband and I were watching the series as a marathon at the time, trying to finish before the final season, and I could not bring myself to watch another episode for over a week after that.

It is because of how tragic Shireen’s story is that I feel compelled to write this. Perhaps to make Stannis a bit better in my own mind and grant him a bit of forgiveness, because after all, that is what Princess Shireen Baratheon would do. :two_hearts:

Due to the nature of her death and the “dark” themes I’m sticking throughout this challenge, I’ll be putting a trigger warning for those sensitive to these themes!

**Trigger Warning**

•Graphic depictions of death

•Death of a minor

•Trauma

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Sacrificial Lamb

”You are certain?” Stannis pressed, despite the deep ache within his chest. It was wrong. Everything was all wrong. He brushed his thumb over the stubble on his chin, seemingly deep in thought but with a mind far too numb to process anything. The very notion was preposterous. At the Red Woman’s first mention of it, Stannis was disgusted and horrified. It was completely out of the question and he had half a mind to banish her for speaking such words in his presence.

His little girl. His princess. The lone Stag had gone to the ends of the map to find treatment to save her life once the Greyscale took root, only to be propositioned to sacrifice her for his own gain. It was the only way to survive the battle, Melisandre had assured him. The only path to the Iron Throne that was rightfully his. A necessary sacrifice; one that had to be made for the greater good. It was the life of one girl compared to the lives of hundreds and hundreds of men, and his own life. The life of the King.

Stannis’ eyes burned. Unblinking. Unseeing. “Tell me.” He demanded in a low voice. “Is there no other way?” Robert had so many bastards. Stannis was certain there were more than he could count on all fingers and toes; more than anyone knew. His late brother was a glutton for all things in life. It was likely that not even he was aware of how many bastards he had throughout the kingdoms.

”We have discussed this,” Melisandre began, clasping her hands in front of her. She shook her head without the slightest hint of solemn, as if she were made of the falling snow outside. “You do not have time to find another, nor would another yield as strong results as the blood of your own.” Flames from the fire flickered in her eyes as she stared at Stannis with intent.

Despite the bitter chill, there was a light sheen of sweat covering Stannis’ neck. His head felt as if it had been stuffed full of cotton and his chest as if it had been hollowed out with a dull blade. He ed his talk with Shireen, where she stated with such kind eyes that she would do anything within her power to help him. She wanted to help him. Shireen... She would understand. She would want to save the lives of the many, rather than the few. Selfless and caring girl. A moment of silence ed between Stannis and the Red Woman, as his throat was too dry to speak. Could he live with himself? What was a King without his Princess?

”So be it.”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

”Father?” Shireen’s voice echoed around the caverns of his mind. He stood in the silent snowfall, unable to look at his daughter as the sound of her panicked voice was the only sound to be heard for miles. “Let me go! Let me GO!” She screamed as she was secured to the pyre, as if finally understanding the weight of what was to come. Within his own heart, he could feel the panic of hers. For just a moment perhaps they were connected the way a father and daughter were; where he could feel that his little girl was in danger and his instinct was to protect her. The instinct was swallowed by something else that Stannis could not find the word for, but resented.

His eyes were fixed on the snow in front of him, unable to lift them to meet what he was certain was a look of betrayal. A look of fear. His lip twitched, seeing in his peripheral vision as Selyse was restrained and prevented from interfering with the sacrifice to R’hollor. Was she not the one who claimed Shireen to be sinful? Was she not the one with a heart filled with hatred and resentment for their only surviving child? Why now, when it is too late, does she want to be the loving mother that she should have been for ten and five years? The sound of wood crackling as it was engulfed by flames broke Stannis from his anger. The bone chilling scream that was ripped from Shireen’s throat made the Stag finally lift his gaze to his heir.

”FATHER!” Shireen screamed at what must have been the top of her lungs as flames enveloped her. “HELP ME! MOTHER! IT BURNS-!” Her screams rang out, rasping as they were torn from Shireen’s very core, threatening to cause Stannis to hemorrhage from his ears. His eyes met Shireen’s, seeing not betrayal but instead complete terror and pain. Suffering. He searched for forgiveness in her eyes, imagining that he would find it there. Telling himself that she would forgive him; that she understood. R’hollor would not prolong her suffering. “HELP ME, FATHER PLEASE!” Were the last audible words that the Princess could muster. Every sound to follow was a howl of excruciating pain and suffering. It was not long before he could no longer see the face of his daughter, as she was fully surrounded with burning flames.

The scent of her burning flesh would haunt Stannis all his life long. The sounds of her screaming and crying would wake him each night, he was certain. Perhaps it was what he deserved; a much smaller sacrifice for him to make. Even if Stannis never slept another night or knew peace again, he would be King. The moment Shireen took her last smoke filled breath of life, Stannis could feel it. He knew to the very millisecond when she had left their world. The Stag looked at the pyre where his daughter once stood, but was now merely a cracking fire and charred bones. For his Princess, the King shed his tears and turned his back on the empty pyre. Onward was the only place for him left to look. Onward to the Iron Throne.