Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

The Ghost of the North

Chapter 14: Val

"Talking"

"Thinking"

(Location: Beyond the Wall)

She was silent as she and Ygritte led the crow into Mance's tent. The direwolf that had accompanied the crow since he killed the Halfhand waited outside in silence. It had been a little bit of a shock when she saw this baby crow kill the Halfhand, who had been half a legend to the Free Folk. There were many who had wanted to shove a spear into the Halfhand's stomach, but the one to do it was a crow that wanted to be free.

He and four other crows had ambushed their party, killing everyone except her and Ygritte and that was because of the crow with her, who called himself Jon Snow. He was going to execute them both, but instead, he let them go free. That had been a bad mistake on his part, since they went after his group with more people. She wasn't sure if it had been Jon Snow that had killed Jarl or not. At this point, she had stopped caring. It was best to not let grief consume her for something like that. Jarl had died with a weapon in hand. It was a good way to die.

When she stepped into the tent and saw Dalla cooking hens on a fire, she went to her side. "Dalla," she said in greeting, hugging her sister.

"Val," Dalla said, returning the hug. "I had hoped you would return safely." She eyed the rest of the group that came in. "But I didn't think you would be bringing in a crow. Have you found someone new to entertain you, sister?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, he's just a crow who wanted to be free."

"What's this?" Styr said from across the tent, looking at Jon Snow. "A crow?"

"The black bastard what gutted Orell, and a bloody warg as well," Rattleshirt told him.

"You were to kill them all."

"This one came over," Ygritte explained as she joined the conversation. "He slew Qhorin Halfhand with his own hand."

"Aye, he did that," Val agreed with the girl who was kissed by fire. "Only after his direwolf helped."

Tormund stood from where he was squatting and looked the crow in the eye, the chicken he was eating still in his hand. "That half-handed cunt killed friends of mine. Friends twice your size," he declared in a growl.

To his credit, the crow didn't back down. "My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones, if you put a sword through their hearts."

"Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. And there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods." The two stared at one each other for a long second. "What's your name, boy?"

"Jon Snow," the crow answered. Then he did something they hadn't expected. He knelt. "Your Grace."

The moment of silence that followed that was broken when the Free Folk in the tent started laughing loudly. "Your Grace?" Tormund repeated before turning to look at all the others. "Did you hear that? From now on, you better kneel every time I fart." There an extra round of laughter.

"Stand, boy," Mance told the crow, standing up from where he had been sitting. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the Wall." He walked forward to the crow. "I'm Mance Rayder. Tell me, does my Lord of Bones speak truly? Did you slay my old friend the Halfhand?"

"We just told you that, Mance," Val spoke out.

Her sister's man looked at her. "Aye, that you did, Val. But I wish to hear it from the crow's own mouth."

"I did," Jon Snow said quietly.

"The Shadow Tower will never again seem as fearsome." There was some sadness in his voice. Perhaps he was remembering his time as a crow. "Qhorin was my enemy. But also my brother, once. So…shall I thank you for killing him, Jon Snow? Or curse you?" he asked with a mocking smile on his lips.

The crow didn't say anything at first, obviously thinking about his answer. "You ought to thank me for killing your enemy, and curse me for killing your friend," he finally answered.

"Har!" boomed Tormund. "Well answered!"

"Agreed," Mance said, beckoning the crow forward, "If you would join us, you'd best know us." He gestured first to Styr, who was glaring coldly at the crow. "This is Styr, Magnar of Thenn. Magnar means 'lord' in the Old Tongue. Our ferocious chicken-eater here is my loyal Tormund. The woman—"

"Hold," Tormund said, stopping him. "You gave Styr his style, give me mine."

He laughed. "As you wish," he said before looking at Jon Snow. "Jon Snow, before you stands Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-talker, Horn-blower, and Breaker of Ice. And here also Tormund Thunderfist, Husband to Bears, the Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts."

"That sounds more like me," Tormund of the many names remarked. "Well met, Jon Snow."

"The good woman at the brazier is Dalla," Mance continued. "Treat her like you would any queen, she is carrying my child. And it is clear to me that you've already met her sister Val." That remark got him a glare from Val while the rest just laughed, even her own sister. "So there you have us, Jon Snow. The King-beyond-the-Wall and his court, such as it is. And now some words from you I think. Where did you come from?"

"Winterfell by way of Castle Black," Jon Snow answered quickly.

"And whose bastard are you?"

"Lord Stark."

"Aye, that's what he told us," Val said, jerking her head at Ygritte, who nodded in agreement.

"Really?" said Mance as he stared at the crow. He smiled. "I think not. You might have the looks of a Stark, but you are not Eddard Stark's bastard. The man is far too honorable to do that to his wife."

"And would the King-beyond-the-Wall know that?" The crow challenged him.

His smile widened slightly and he said, "Because I have met the Stark in Winterfell when I was still a crow, having been sent from the Shadow Tower to accompany Benjen Stark to Winterfell to pay our respects to the passing Rickard Stark. And while I was there, there had a small matter of a missing prince."

None of the Free Folk in the tent knew what he was talking about, but the crow did, flinching slightly and making Mance smile even more widely. "Ah, I knew it. So you are him after all. Perhaps I should bend my knee to you?" Amidst the shocked looks of everyone there, Jon Snow only shook his head, making the King-beyond-the-Wall laugh. "You've brought a rare gift, my goodsister," he said to Val.

Rattleshirt spat to the side. "One crow is as good as another," he declared.

"That might be, my Lord of Bones. But this particular crow happens to be the youngest son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the king they all kneel to." Those words shocked all the Free Folk in the tent.

"Him, a son of the kneeler king?" demanded Rattleshirt, pointing a finger at the crow. "If that's true, why is there's a fucking direwolf outside?"

The crow turned on him with a fire in his eyes. "My father may be a dragon, but my mother is a wolf," he said with a growl in his voice.

"He speaks the truth, my Lord of Bones," Mance said. "When I had gone to Winterfell, the king was married to Lyanna Stark. Still…a boy from Castle Black with rangers from the Shadow Tower?" he said to himself while still looking at the crow. "How did that come to be?"

"The Lord Commander sent me to the Halfhand for seasoning, so he took me on his ranging," answered the crow prince.

"Why?"

"He wants me to lead one day."

"But here you are, a traitor, kneeling before the King-beyond-the-Wall."

"If I'm a traitor, then you are too," the crow told him.

He looked at him in silence and then at everyone else there in the tent. "I would speak with the lad."

They understood what he was silently saying and they all turned to leave. All with the exception of Val, who just sat down by her sister in silent challenge to her goodbrother. Whether he saw the challenge for what was or not did not seem to matter to him or the crow who was a prince. They sat down and shared mead and hen meat. Val and her sister shared with each other. But even as they ate, the silence in the tent could be thick enough to be cut by a sword.

Once the meal was done, Mance looked at the crow prince. "Tell me truly, Jon Targaryen. Are you a craven who turned your cloak from fear, or is there another reason that brings you to my tent?"

The crow had been drinking from a horn of mead when the question was asked and to his credit, he did not show any kind of surprise. All he did was finish his drink, lowered the horn, and said, "Tell me why you turned your cloak, and I'll tell you why I turned mine."

Val rolled her eyes as the King-beyond-the-Wall smiled (while also noticing that someone was listening from the outside, probably Ygritte). "You will have heard stories of my desertion, I have no doubt."

"Some say it was for a crown. Some say for a woman. Others that you had the wilding blood," the crow admitted.

"The wilding blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks. As for a crown, do you see one?"

"I see a woman." He looked over at Dalla as he spoke. If Val hadn't gotten to know the crow (reluctantly), she would've thought that was a look of interest.

"My lady is blameless. The Halfhand was carved of old oak, but I am made of flesh, and I have a great fondness for the charms of women…which makes me no different from three-quarters of the Watch. There are men wearing black who have had ten times as many women as this poor king. You must guess again, Jon Targaryen."

He was silent for a moment. "The Halfhand said you had a passion for wildling music."

"I did. I do. That's closer to the mark, yes. But not a hit," Mance said before standing up and unclasping his cloak. "It was for this."

The crow was surprised. "A cloak?" he said.

"The black wool cloak of a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch," Val's goodbrother told him. "One day on a ranging we brought down a fine big elk. We were skinning it when the smell of blood drew a shadow-cat out of its lair. I drove it off, but not before it shredded my cloak to ribbons. Do you see? Here, here, and here?" He pointed out the tears with a chuckle. "It shredded my arm and back as well, and I bled worse than the elk. My brothers feared I might die before they got me back to Maester Mullin at the Shadow Tower, so they carried me to a wilding village where we knew an old wise-woman did some healing. She was dead, as it happened, but her daughter saw to me. Cleaned my wounds, sewed me up, and fed me porridge and potions until I was strong enough to ride again. And she sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up on the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift to me."

He swept the cloak back around his shoulders. "But at the Shadow Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black and black, and trimmed with black to go with my black breeches and black boots, my black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor tears…and most of all, no red. The men of the Night's Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said. I left the next morning…for a place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose." He sat down and clasped his cloak around his shoulders. "And you, Jon Targaryen?"

"Hold," Val said before the crow could answer. "I want to know why a prince of kneelers wanted to join the crows."

"A valid thought, Val," her goodbrother acknowledged. They both turned to look at the crow.

For the longest moment, he said nothing. "…Is that all you see of me when you look at me? A prince or a crow?" he asked them.

"It's enough for me," she told him.

"It wasn't for me. I didn't want to be another prince of the Iron Throne or another knight or another Targaryen. I wanted to be my own man."

"It sounds like you wanted to be free," Dalla said quietly, a hand resting on her stomach.

"Aye, that sounds like it," he admitted. "I thought I could find it with the Night's Watch, but I may find it with the wild—the Free Folk," he quickly corrected himself. "I do have their blood from both sides of my family."

"What?" Val said, surprised to hear that.

He looked at her and nodded. "The third king on the Iron Throne, Maegor the Cruel, made a deal with the Ghost of the North. If he stole a woman from beyond the Wall, she would give him a child but it would be a girl. He did steal a woman, earning himself two black eyes and a broken arm, and brought her back south. True to the deal, his child from his wildling bride was a girl. When she had grown into an adult, she was the mother of King Viserys I and was known as the Wild Dragon. I guess you could say it was her blood that made me want to be free."

"Is that the only reason you came to us?" Mance said to him.

Silence fell again in the tent. As it continued, Val put the horn of mead in her hand down and slowly reached for her spear. If this crow prince was a liar, she would bury it in his stomach. "No, it's not. We stopped at Craster's Keep on the way north," he said to them "I saw…" He trailed off.

"You saw what?"

"I saw Craster take his own baby boy and leave it in the woods. I saw what took it."

A cold wind blew through the tent at those words. "…You saw one of them?" Val asked him, almost incredulous. He only nodded once.

Mance just looked him in the eye. "And why would that make you desert your brothers?"

"Because when I told the Lord Commander, he already knew." That sentence drew looks of surprise from the sisters but not from the King-beyond-the-Wall. "Thousands of years ago, the First Men battled the Others and defeated them. I want to fight for the side that fights for the living." He returned the king's look. "Did I come to the right place?"

Mance looked at him in silence and then stood up. "I think we had best find you a new cloak," he said, holding out his hand. And the crow prince took it.

End

Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me. I'm glad that this story hit triple digits.

If there are any of you who think that the meeting was too close to either the books or the TV show, it's actually both. I felt that such a crucial point should not be really tampered with. The only thing I really changed was Val getting caught by Jon alongside Ygritte (and if you think that will have implications later, you're right).

I'll see you all next chapter!