Chapter 6

Val was sitting at the desk in Jon's solar, reading a book on the North's geography, when the chamber's doors opened. She looked up and saw Tormund striding towards the desk and the chair facing her.

As he sat, Val mourned the outrageous loud man she had seen at Mance's camp. He had not been the same since King Stannis' attack, even if he hid it from most. He lost two of his sons all the same. His second-born, Tormund, was slain by a knight. Torwynd died of cold and rose as a Wight. Tormund had been the one to kill him, and it had taken a toll on her friend.

Grief turned him colder and more contained. His focus shifted from fighting everyone south of the Wall to protect his two remaining boys and his girl no matter what. To Val, it was easier to deal with this version of her friend, who now saw Mance's vision as his only hope. But at times, she misses the told Tor.

"Toregg sent word," The redhead said as soon as he sat down. Tormund's eldest son had taken command of the Free Folk garrisoned at Oakenshield and moved them to Mole's Town to join the rest. "Food is not as bad as we expected. Those are good lands."

"Jon told me so. But there is too much snow to plant more. All we are able to harvest will need to get us through our march."

Val gave Tormund a small ledger she had made, and the account of the food reports and the people that would need feeding. "

"Our people will feed for the next year, and the fighting force for five moons. If all goes well, war won't last that long. But you must follow it to the letter."

"I know better than to go against you on this."

"About our other problem?" Val asked coolly.

"I'll keep the boys in line."

"I hope so. I want no stealing while on the march, Tor. I won't have the kneelers killing our men for raping their woman."

"What about our women?"

Val leaned on her chair. "They can fuck all they want, but no babes. We can't feed them. Willow will give the women moon tea."

"What if-"

"There will be no babes," she said in a tense voice.

Tormund nodded in understanding.

"Speaking of children. The Blood Price."

"What of it?"

"We want our boys back."

Val schooled her features. The blood price had been what Jon called warding. One hundred boys between the ages of eight and sixteen were given to the Lord Commander as a show of trust and unity when they crossed the Wall.

It had not been a popular decision amongst the Free Folk, so Val and Tor picked mostly orphans or boys of their lands where people would be more welcoming to follow their command.

Tormund's youngest, Dryn, was amongst those boys and had been Jon's page ever since.

"Those boys were given to the watch."

"No, they were given into Jon Snow's care. Jon Snow is no longer part of the watch. If they can kill their own, I don't trust the crows with our children."

She could see the sternness in Tor's eyes. He wouldn't yield on this, and Val understood him. The Blood Price made her uncomfortable too. Seeing them in crows' clothes and learning the kneeler's way. The Free Folk's numbers dwindled by the day, and most were babes. Two babes died last night of cold. Val had stood by their mother's side as they burned them.

"Soren also wants his boy back."

Soren Sheildbreaker was a clan leader whose lands bordered Val's. Their peoples mingled a great deal, and Soren's uncle had been Val's grandfather. Tor was being cruel appealing to Val's sense of family bonds.

"Svein serves on the Wall with Satin," she informed Tor. Val had devised a way to put the boy under the Lord Commander's steward, for she trusted the pretty man above most on the Wall.

"The deal was with Lord Snow," Tor said with a sternness many didn't associate with her red-haired friend. "If Lord Snow goes South, the boys go with him."

"Tell that to Lord Snow."

Tormund grinned. "I think he would like it better from your pretty lips."

Val gave him an annoyed look.

"Wives have a way to make everything sound better," he pushed.

"Not his wife. Not yet."

Tormund laughed loudly. "Still waiting... Do you want me to give him some lessons?"

"We have been busy."

Her friend laughed at her again but then turned more serious. "Many of our folks believe you will wed him."

As if he needed to tell her that. "I'm working on it."

"They need assurances."

"I'm working on it," she stressed out. "I know what my job is."

Tormund's gaze turned to that of an older brother. "You like the boy. More than like for what I've seen."

"I do," she confessed freely.

"Good. Still need to give him a good talk."

It was Val's turn to laugh.

.

.

"I need to speak with you about something," Val said to Jon in a soft tone.

Her love shifted so that her face rested on his chest. The tall candle next to the bed shadowed his features, but Val still saw the apprehension in his dark eyes. Something turned in her belly, but she pushed it aside.

"The boys you took from the Free Folk."

"The hostages?"

Val nodded, hiding her hatred toward that word. "They should go south with us."

Jon took a fortifying breath. "They are hostages of the Wall."

"No, they are your hostages. The Free Folk won't trust the crows. Not after what happened."

Jon tensed underneath her. She hated bringing it up, until Val remembered the children. Her priorities. Still, she tried to calm him down by kissing his scars. His arms came to rest on her waist and the strands of hair close to it.

"Those kids assure the watch of the Free Folk's goodwill," he said diplomatically.

It was the same tone he used when dealing with the Iron Bank or Stannis Baratheon. She hated that Jon was using it on her. You're using your own weapons as well, a judging voice that sounded like Dalla spoke in her mind.

"If we are moving towards Winterfell, we are no longer a threat to the Wall. Let the boys come with us. The Free Folk will admire you more for it. If you give their boys to them, they'll fight harder for you."

Jon's eyes turned pensive, and Val tried to stop herself from biting her lip or shifting. She distracted herself by tracing the scars on his chest.

"I'll talk with Edd about it. But they want some to stay."

"Let the younger ones come at least. And Tormund's boy is your errand boy."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Page. He's my page."

"Same thing. "

"Who else?"

"Hum?" She looked up.

His eyes were sharper than usual. "Who else do you need? Which hostages are important?"

"The Harle's boys. Toregg's. Brogg. I can give you a list."

"The Free Folk leaders."

Val nodded, "They were Mance's men. His commanders. Now, the Free Folk is your force. Your commanders. Give them something to warm them towards you."

"I might be able to take some with me. Sell it as fewer men to feed. But some of those leaders are managing the castles along the wall."

"Leave a small garrison behind with those who won't follow you easily, but to those that do follow you, show them you repay that trust."

"Do you have a list of those men as well?"

"Do you doubt me, my love?"

Jon kissed her passionately and for a moment Val forgot there was something more than the two of them and their bed.

"I thought I had a warrior-princess. I see I have a clever one as well."

Val pushed hard and climbed atop him. "Even amongst the Free Folk there are those who know there are other ways to fight battles that don't involve steel."

Jon's hands traveled over her thighs and up her belly with a distracting warmth.

"Some battles are won with quills."

Shiera had taught her that. It had been something that Val did not understand at the time, but was starting to see the truth in it.

"Very clever." He hummed, heat returning to his eyes.

Val closed her eyes as she felt his lips on her neck, but her mind still flashed back to the woman's many lessons.

"What use does all of this even have?" Val challenged Lady Shiera once, tried of learning Westerosi history and their ways of life. Young Val hated them, how they saw the Free Folk and women. They sold their children and married their close kin. It disgusted her in her innocent childlike mind.

"One day, my Star, you will see. And thank me for all I've taught you."

I do thank you, Shiera. Her teacher had been cruel at times, and much of Val's self-serving nature developed from those lessons. Val had once been willful to the point of being unreasonable. She craved freedom above all things and was more irresponsible than most children. That child died a long time ago. There is no point in mourning her.

Trying to chase away the dark thoughts, Val pulled Jon into a kiss.

.

.

Hardin's Tower was the residence of the Free Folk women, and while most of the women had left, the spearwives to various castles along the Wall and the others to the Wilding camps in the Gift, some of Val's people stayed behind with her.

They were all preparing their wagons and backpacks when she entered, but all stopped to nod at her. Val offered them the same gesture until she found Willow and Old Myrtle engaging in a conversation at a table.

"The Princess returns to us. Did the Lord Crow kick you out of bed?" Myrtle said in a waspish tone.

Despite being in her mid-fifties, with a gaunt face and hair beginning to turn from grey to white, no one would call the spearwife weak. Sprier than some Val's age, Old Myrtle never held her tongue, and used it as sharply as a dagger.

Next to her, Willow, Val's eldest living friend, took a sip of ale, but her moss-green eyes shone with mirth.

"More outside world does it for him," Val replied with a grin, "He stayed to finish the talk with Edd about the boys. He isn't very pleased with losing men but also doesn't want to end up with Crows having a case of a dagger in the gut."

"I knew I liked that boy."

"He's a bit young for you, Myrtle," Willow teased.

"Some men prefer experience over youth, but I am sure Val didn't come here to speak about who is warming who's bed."

"Oh, I think she would be interested in knowing who is warming Frenya's."

Val's eyebrow rose, knowing that her friend had a talent for knowing what was going on in everyone's life.

"The green thistles."

"Young Norrey?" Val asked.

"No, his father."

Val blinked. "He hates the Free Folk."

"He likes Frenya well enough," her friend said with a wicked grin. "She's been warming him for moons."

"I don't even want to know," Val spoke, shaking the image out of her mind. "I came to talk about the campaign."

"You're going with your husband. Tormund will take us where we need to go."

Val turned to the old woman, "I need you to help him out. Tor is a Free Folk leader, but I need someone who won't allow the men to do as they like."

"Take the little thing between the legs of some, and the rest will learn," Myrtle said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I would like to have no castrations." That would mean rapes beforehand.

"It's war girl, you know better," she admonished Val. "But I'll make sure they learn fast. Willow here will make sure no babes will be around."

"Rowan and Holly will go with the Lady Jeyne to act as the girl's shields."

"And who of our group is staying with you?" Willow asked sharply.

"Frenya can come. She might soften up The Norrey so I won't feel the need to hit him."

The Gods knew Val needed it.

"Munda will act as my second."

"You're taking Tormund's girl with you," Myrtle said, surprised.

"Tormund asked. I think he hopes to keep her out of the fight."

"Take Arsa with you, at least."

Arsa was a spearwife that was living with most of the Free Folk in Mole's Town. She had been one of Dalla's shields, so Val was well aware of her. But there was a reason she was not at Castle Black. Val shifted uncomfortably."

"Arsa is one of our best spearwives," The older woman said. "She is swift and asks for little. You could do much worse."

"Oh, Val doesn't have a problem with Arsa's character... more with her kin."

Val wanted to hit her friend.

"Kin?" Myrtle turned to Willow. "Didn't she lose her sister at the battle on the Wall?"

Her friend grinned. "Ygritte. That was her name if I am not wrong."

Val glared at Willow. Old Myrtle's sharp eyes turned from Willow to Val and back again.

"I feel like I am missing something."

.

.

Val climbed the steps of the King's Tower and found Jon in a conversation with Satin. A goodbye, she sensed from the heavy looks shared between the two. Val waited outside until the younger man eventually left.

"Val," he startled upon seeing her.

They hadn't talked in a while. After their shared night of grief, the pretty boy avoided her. Val could see why in the way he looked at Jon.

"Satin," she said with a smile. "Are you coming downstairs?"

Are you coming to say goodbye in public?

"No," he said, dark eyes shining with sadness. Different from Jon's black eyes that at certain times shone with a strange light, Satin's were a very dark brown, warm and inviting.

"I said my goodbye," he said solemnly.

Val nodded in understanding. He wouldn't want others to see his reaction. If we only had more time. Jon would see what was in front of him. But Satin would stay at the Wall either way, so perhaps it was for the kissed his cheek, near to his lips, but not close enough to touch them. Satin's red cheeks made him even more lovely, and unable to keep to herself, she kissed his other cheek.

Val was pleased to see the lust in his orbits.

"We'll see you soon," She whispered, showing him her emotions. "I know it."

"I hope so, Princess."

As she entered the room, she found Jon's deep gaze resting on her.

"Did you pack everything?" she broke the silence.

He nodded, but Val still saw the cloak on the unmade bed. She walked towards the bed.

"Do you not like it?"

"You made it?" He asked, surprise coloring his tone.

"Alys and Jeyne were a part of it a great deal. I know how to sew, but Jeyne was the one who told me how to make it more like a Stark cloak. Alys did the running wolf on the leather. I am still working on making pretty things."

He gave her a small smile but then his eyes stared at the embroidered wolf.

"I am not a Stark."

"You must look like one to charm all those bannermen."

Jon's eyes moved towards her clothes. Her white wool cloak and the great furs of the same color, matched with the slate breeches and tunic. Simple, but fine compared to what most Free Folk would wear.

The trappings of power were everywhere. Someone should have taught Jon that.

"I came up with an agreement with Edd," he changed the subject, clearly in discomfort in seeing the Stark colors. "Half of the boys will go with us. Those you wanted and some of the younger ones, but the rest stay. They are skilled in arms and will be of use to the Watch."

It was better than she imagined. She offered a proud smile and placed her hand on Jon's chest.

"Are they ready to leave?"

"Yes. By the end of the day, we'll be in Mole's Town."

"Have you worked on your speech?" Val teased as she closed the clasp around his cloak.

"No, but it can't be much worse than the last speech I gave the Free Folk."

Val looked at him in confusion. The last time Jon spoke to her people, that she was present, he gave them food, shelter, and order. It lacked the pompous words the South was used to, but she liked it even more for that reason. So did her people.

"At Hardhome," his gaze darkened. Val knew of the tragedy that happened there. Tor had told her upon his return, pale and shaken. "I might have confessed to having killed Mance."

Val froze. She remembered the fire, the screams, the Red Woman's voice, and the mercy Jon's arrow offered to her goodbrother.

"Val?" He looked at her worried. "I - Mance."

"It was a mercy," she said in a monotone.

Jon nodded, but Val could see he was still far away. He looked lost in guilt and remorse and Val would not have it. Not about Mance. Not when she knew how much he feared dying like that. That arrow showed her people Jon's mercy and rebellion against the Red Woman's way.

But at night Val still dreamt. Of Dalla's screams as she birthed her babe. The soft promise to care for her babe. Mance's terror as he was put in the pyre and Val's vow to him.

Death. Promises. Vows.

It was exhausting.

"What did Satin say?" She asked of her lover, wanting to distract them both.

Something queer appeared in his eyes, but before she could read it, Jon turned to the window.

.

.

Jon looked outside the window. Three young men were training in the yard, and something inside him wanted to join those men. As Lord Commander, he would join his men in the training yard. Those are not your men anymore.

He moved his gaze away from the clash of steel to the Free Folk packing. Tormund was clapping his young son - no longer dressed in black - but in furs, on the back. It had taken an entire morning to convince the men, but Edd, the current acting Lord Commander, eventually allowed the young ones to leave.

"You have your brooding face on."

Jon turned to Satin, who was entering the room with slow steps. He tried to smile at his friend.

"I'm thinking of how I will miss this place."

Satin gave him a small smile. "There isn't much to miss. You'll forget about all of us soon," he said, fake joviality touching his tone.

He would miss Satin and Edd the most. Edd always made him laugh, and Satin's tranquil aura calmed Jon down. While Tormund could make him laugh, and Val brought many feelings, but neither was calm.

"I will miss the friends I made."

Satin's pretty eyes shone. "We shall miss you as well," he said softly. "You were the best of the commanders."

Jon placed a hand on Satin's shoulder. "So will the next one."

"I hope it's Edd. He won't brood that much, at least."

Jon smiled at his old steward then he remembered why he made Satin his second. "Have the men said anything?"

"No," Satin bit his lip. "They know better now... I think. Edd will likely win the election. I'll keep my post."

And people won't accuse Satin of sleeping with Edd.

"Lighten up, Jon. You're leaving this cold place with a pretty princess, and soon you'll have a better castle."

The joke sounded empty on Satin's lips, and his eyes showed sadness. Jon almost asked why he had that look.

"We'll see each other again," Jon found himself saying.

"I hope in a warmer place, with laughter and music. And other clothes that are not black," Satin said in a wistful tone. "Blue. I like blue. Not the blue of the Wall, but deep blue you don't see around here."

Jon wished he had Satin's optimism, but every time he imagined seeing his friends, all he envisioned was a battle and the Others. Satin's eyes, however, betrayed his emotional turmoil.

"Either way, you better not do anything too stupid until I see you again," Satin spoke, and Jon could see how the words seemed to strike. His were too.

A silence grew between them. Jon wanted to explain to his friend how important he had been to his sanity in the last couple of years. He tried to get the words out but was unable to form a speech.

Satin's eyes were sadder still, and unable to see the heartbroken expression, Jon pulled his friend into a warm hug.

"I'll miss you, Satin."

.

.

Satin wasn't present when Jon's entourage left the castle.

As he rode through the gates a sense of anxiousness came over him. The Watch had been his home for almost six years and when he swore his vows, Jon believed the Wall would be his home until his death.

It shall not end until my death.

That came true, but not in the way he expected.

Jon looked at the group of Free Folk galloping ahead of him, and Val, riding astride on the horse next to him. She had a smile on her face and it made her face shine in the bright morning light.

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.

As if feeling her eyes on him, she turned. Her smile widened and Jon felt warmer. Once, Jon contemplated that Val didn't need to smile to turn heads. She didn't. But Val's smiles had an uncanny femininity and grace. Like a princess from the stories, Sansa loved to read.

Val would need no knight to rescue her, nor is she like the wife he would dream about in his childhood, awaiting him by the window, brushing her hair for her husband.

A warrior princess loved by her people.

I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.

At her questioning look, Jon turned around to the closing gate. His breath caught in his throat. Was the gate closing at a much slower pace?

I shall live and die at my post.

The two great doors closed and he let out a breath..

Author's Note:

SibealDeEpona: Thank you. I will continue. I will update at least every two weeks.