Jon

The Lord of Winterfell looked upon his sleeping wife. Though her long blonde hair was a matted mess, she was beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that would catch the eyes of most lords. Watching her while she slept in the small hours, Jon could only guess how she truly felt about him. His lordly father and the Lady Catelyn had been wedded after Rickard Stark had been slain by the Mad King. They'd not loved each other when they were married, but Jon knew all too well how much that woman cared for his father and how much his father cared for her. Could that happen between himself and the wildling girl that was now the Lady of Winterfell? Or would her heart always remain north of the Wall Jon would always have Ygritte in his heart, but laying with Val had made him feel connected to someone. It had relieved the pain and the uncertainty. It had grounded him slightly… but had it done the same for her?

He hadn't stolen her, the stewards had captured her, but he had not played a part in that. She had fought furiously against being made a captive of the "kneeler", but she'd accepted her marriage to Jon. Her resignation to her fate had made him feel as though he was caging an animal best left free. In her white leather and furs, he thought of Ghost turned into a captive and it made him feel uneasy. When they had been wedded by the Lady Melisandre before King Stannis, his southern men, and the Free Folk it felt wrong. After the ceremony, the King had chosen not to hound them at the door to their room, but his knights had followed him to the bedroom and lingered behind its closed door after they had laughed and made japes as Jon had carried his bride through the halls. A drunken ser Godry Farring said things that one would never say to a high lord in any other circumstances. When the newlyweds entered their room and the door had shut behind them, they'd looked at each other unsure of things. The pain over having lost Ygritte had still been fresh at the time, even after having filled his belly with ale, and Val stood before him looking a bit like a falcon with a clipped wing.

He had tried to say something about them not needing to go any further when she'd rushed him. In that instant, he half expected her to stab him a half dozen times, a part of him even thought that he might deserve such a fate. Instead, he found that with her concealed blade pressed against his neck, she leaned into him and stole a kiss, and then another, and another, and then the knife was on the floor and their cloths followed shortly thereafter. They were frenzied and passionate that evening, and for a while Jon forgot himself. He wasn't the bastard son of Eddard Stark, murderer of his love, and traitor to the Night's Watch, he was no one.

When it was done, and the two lay looking upon the other, it was Val who spoke first.

"I stole you, Jon Snow."

He'd tried to say something, but she'd cut him off.

"You beat the Mance, you left the Crows, and you'll give me a castle to raise our children in, but always remember that I... stole... you."

They'd laid with each other each night since their marriage. In part because it was a distraction that helped them bond, and in part because the King had been quite unsubtle when he made it clear that a Stark heir carried a great deal of political weight. Their child would be born in the midst of winter, assuming that their child was borne at all and the things beyond the Wall did not manage to sweep across the land. What kind of world would they be bringing a child into? Would the war be over? Would the Boltons still hold Winterfell? Would the Others be knocking at the door?

As he pondered things beyond his control, Val's eyes slowly opened and she looked upon him sleepily.

"What troubles the Lord of Winterfell, this morning?" She extended her hand to brush his chest.

He sighed, "Is it right to bring a child into this?"

She looked at him hard for a minute or two. Not speaking at all, simply looking at him. Jon was about to say something when she finally broke her silence.

"Was it right for the Freefolk to bring children into the world for a thousand generations?"

Jon was caught off guard by that. He hadn't meant to insult Val. Though now he feared that he may have.

"It doesn't matter whether it is right."-she took his hand and pressed it to the warm skin of her bare stomach.-"The Freefolk have always needed children to survive, they are as important as a hand to hold a spear. Without them we would wither and die. It would be easy to take some remedy brewed by a witch to stave off the pain and the temporary burden of bearing a child, but it would be the end of us as the years passed. Our stories would fade as we shriveled up and were taken by the cold."-Her voice turned stern.-" You may wish to fade after losing your stolen girl, but I stole you"- Her voice wavered slightly.- "and I won't allow it."

Jon freed his hand from Val's embrace only to use it to pull her more closely to him. Their faces inches away from one another, he kissed forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jon was unsure who he was apologizing to in that moment, Robb, Ygritte, his brothers in the Night's Watch, or Val, but there was something cathartic about saying it. Something that made it feel as though everyone he needed to say it to heared it when Val did.

"A child needs a father as much as mother needs her children." Her forehead now pressed against Jon's chest. Jon knew what would come next. "Will you ask him about Mance, again?"

She had asked Jon before and he had broached the subject with the king at her request, but Stannis was determined to burn Mance. The Red Woman constantly mused about the importance of king's blood and even if she hadn't Stannis saw it as an important political move in gaining the support of the Northern Lords. Maybe if more had pledged to support Jon, he could have been persuaded him out of handing out the grim sentence. Unfortunately, so few had chosen to openly support Jon and Stannis that the sacrifice of a man who could prove to be a valuable asset seemed like the only choice.

"I can try." He kissed the top of her head.

.

.

After he broke fast with his wife, the Lord of Winterfell made his way to the tower of the king. Since sending Lord Seaworth on his journey to White Harbor to try and recruit Lord Manderly, Jon had become the king's closest adviser, after the Red Woman. It had afforded him certain privileges and liberties that had allowed him to address the king with a frankness that only Lord Seaworth matched, but it meant his work was never done.

When he arrived in the king's quarters, the king looked unexpectedly jovial. He wasn't smiling, the man never seemed to smile, but his presence was not as rough as was normally the case when Jon arrived to greet him in the morning.

"Do you know what this is, Lord Stark?" he raised a piece of parchment in his.

"Another house has answered the call, Your Grace?" Jon wondered who it could have been. It was unlikely that Lord Seaworth had yet made it to the White Harbor. Could it have been the Reeds of Grey Watch? Or maybe it was a more minor house betraying their immediate liege lord for Jon and Stannis' cause?

"Better, Lord Stark. Alysane Mormont has given me an entire kingdom, possibly two."

"I'm confused, my lord."

"With the death of their king and the chaos that has consumed them, the Lady Asha Greyjoy was attempting to return to Pyke to maintain control of her father's kingdom and crown herself Queen of the the Iron Islands. She never made it though. Lady Mormont captured her and relieved her of her captives, Lady Glover and her children."

Stannis was right, this was better than a single house coming to their cause, in a great many ways. Of course if it was played wrong it could be disastrous.

"What do you mean to do to Lady Greyjoy?"

Stannis' glare gave Jon the distinct impression that he thought the question almost too stupid to bother answering.

"I intend to make her bend the knee."

"How?"

"What do you mean how? I have her as a captive, if she doesn't bend the knee I'll have her executed for treason against her king."

The Red Woman finally spoke, "King's blood runs through her veins, to burn her if she does not kneel may do us a great service."

Jon shook his head. "And then what? That doesn't give us control of the Iron Islands. It doesn't even give us control of Torrhen's Square. If we kill Lady Greyjoy or if we make her unpalatable for the Ironborn, then we lose much that we stand to gain."

"And what would you have the king do, Lord Stark?" She eyed him carefully.

"What you've done with the Wildlings." It was a dreadful idea, Jon knew it. From what he'd gathered about Theon's betrayal, his brother had tried a similar strategy to what Jon now found himself putting forward to the King. Though it seemed that it was insanity to try the same strategy and hope for a different result, Jon hoped a different leader of the Ironborn might manifest a different result. "You were the one who worked with the Sigorn, the Lord of Bones, and the other Wildling chiefs to settle them in the Gift so long as they bent the knee and vowed to honor the King's Peace. We've brought them south of the Wall and have settled them, even brought a few into the into our own ranks. We tied them to the land and we tied them to us. We need to do the same to the Ironborn. We need to give them a new Harrenhal."

Jon was not sure he'd ever seen the king look truly surprised, he wasn't even sure if he was surprised in this moment, but surprised was the best way that Jon could explain the expression of King Stannis' face.

"They rebel against the Iron Throne, kill your brothers, and ravage the western holds of the North and you want to what? Reward them?"

Jon shook his head, "I want to burn Pyke to the ground and salt the earth where it stood for what they did to my brothers and for what they did to my home, but what I want and what the realm needs are two different things."

Jon made his way past Stannis to the map of Westeros the king looked over meticulously every day when strategizing.

"I want the Ironborn out of the North as much as you do, Your Grace, but we can compensate them with promised territorial gains in the south."

"So you would have me restore the Riverlands to Iron Islands as the were before the Targaryen conquest? That will destroy any good will the River lords might extend to me."

Again Jon shook his head, "No, Your Grace. We give them something smaller, from lords who will never pledge to your cause." His finger pointed to Fair Island and the Westerlands. "We break the independence of the Iron Islands, by breaking the Westerlands. We need not go so far as to make the Lady Greyjoy the Warden of the West, but if we promise the Ironborn Wyndhall, Fair Island, Feastfires, and Casterly Rock…"

Stannis cut Jon off. "You want to give a bunch of reavers and fishermen the largest gold mine in all of Westeros?"

"We end their reaving, by making them miners and bankers. They've got nothing on those islands, save for the salt and the sea. With this, we buy their loyalty and ensure that the next generation of Ironborn a gold miners rather than reavers."

"Or we ensure that they have enough gold to build an even greater navy in a generation." Stannis replied.

"If we're already planning for the next insurrection then we can plan to build up proper naval ports along the western shores of the North, but right now we need to think about ending the war we already have so that we may fight the Others with some degree of unity."

Stannis brought his hand to his brow and sighed deeply. His fingers tapped at the edge of the table as he silently thought. It was a few moments before he spoke again.

"I'll do it. I'll promise her Wyndhall, Fair Island, Feastfires, and I'll throw in the Crag as well, but I won't give her the Rock."

"As you see fit, Your Grace."

Stannis' old chair creaked loudly as he sat and began to pen something down. "I'll have a raven sent to Lady Mormont informing her of the terms I am willing to offer Lady Greyjoy for her surrender and that should Lady Greyjoy accept them I wish for Lady Mormont and her troops to escort her to Pyke and assist her in bringing the rest of the Ironborn to heel."

"Very good, Your Grace."

Stannis sighed again. "Why is it that whenever you say those words to me, Lord Stark, that I feel like I've been beaten on the field of battle?"

Was that a joke? Did the king make a joke? Jon wondered.

After King Stannis had penned the letter and had it sent off, Jon thought about Mance. This was it. It was now or never, Stannis looked to be about to gain control over a considerably larger portion of the North and the Iron Islands and it's fleet.

"Your Grace, I've been meaning to speak with you about my brother by marriage."

Stannis raised his hand. "I won't reverse my decision on this, Lord Stark. I can't, especially not after your Iron Islands deal."

"But-"

"You know as well as I what many of the Northern Lords will say about this peace?"

"They will be thankful that the west is back in Northern hands."

Stannis simply glared and Jon, prompting him to say what he knew. "They will say that the Ironborn were bribed and that they weren't properly punished."

"Exactly. Mance needs to die, now more than ever in order to keep this peace that you've put forward from souring."

"Must he burn?"

It was the Lady Melisandre who spoke now. "Yes."

"That's not the way of the North. Here, the man who passes the sentence swings the sword. We already have this possible capture of the Iron Islands underneath us, does the Lord of Light really require this?" Jon's conversion as part of his raising from Snow to Stark had done nothing to make him more open to the beliefs of the Red Woman.

"It does."

"You may go, Lord Stark. I already have all the information you provided me for my trip to visit the mountain clans." Stannis dismissed him.

Before Jon could make it back to his lodgings and his wife, a somewhat frantic Samwell Tarly greeted him.

"Jon...er… um… Lord Jon...or Lord Stark."

Jon placed his hands firmly on Sam's shoulders.

"It's Jon to you, my friend, and it always will be."

The two exchanged smiled, before a worried look returned to Sam's face.

"Oh Jon, they're sending me away." he moaned.

"What? Who's sending you away? Why?"

Sam whimpered a bit before regaining his composure, "Lord Commander Mallister is sending Grenn, Pyp, and me with Maester Aemon to the Citadel because we need a new maester and we need more recruits. They even want me to go home to try and get my father to send men to the Wall, even though I've told them he'll never do something like that for me."

"They? I thought we were only talking about Lord Commander Mallister?"

"No, he was the one who delivered order, but it was thought up by Janos Slynt. He's trying to keep us away from the Lord Commander and the Lord Commander is trying to keep Slynt and his faction from rebelling. Slynt's got to be planning something. I'd overheard him a while back meeting with Lord Karstark, but I didn't pay much mind to it then. Things keep shifting and changing though, it's too much too fast, and I'm afraid they're planning some sort of betrayal."

Arnolf Karstark had pledged to Stannis, which made it very odd that he would be planning something with Slynt, as any plan that Slynt supported would almost certainly run counter to King Stannis' interests. It didn't make sense to Jon for the old castilian to be cavorting with Slynt.

"You're sure you saw Lord Karstark speaking with Slynt?" Jon whispered, as they retreated from earshot of any would be observers.

"Yes" Sam nodded vigorously.

"And did you hear any specifics?"

"I didn't really hear their conversation, I only heard Lord Karstark refer to him as Lord Commander when they were parting ways. I thought it strange at the time, but mostly I thought it was a mistake, a slip of the tongue or something along those lines. Then Slynt started becoming more active in trying to isolate the Lord Commander from everyone. He's trying to spread us out while keeping his men all at Castle Black. He's got Bowen Marsh and Alliser Thorne supporting it. I'm worried, Jon. He's planning something. He's got to be."

If Sam was right and Janos Slynt and Arnolf Karstark were planning something, then he was right to worry. Nothing good could come from the machinations of those two men.