Chapter 3
Val III
Val felt her breath heaving and her speed slowing down with every step she took to ascend the hill. She still ran towards the house.
Dalla had interrupted Val's playtime with her friends with a worried expression.
Mother wanted to see her as quickly as possible. Val didn't know why. She had done nothing wrong. Well, there was that trouble with the ship ages ago. But Val wanted to meet the people who came from such faraway lands. Mother welcomed many ship-people herself ... How was Val to know some ship-people could try to take her away?
Besides, that was two weeks ago. Val took her punishment and promised to never speak with people that she saw entering their village without permission.
Mother wasn't in their main room, and the big table where she received people was empty.
Val frowned, but then heard low voices coming from the kitchen.
Val followed the noise and soon saw her mother and her companion at the smaller table where her family usually ate.
The woman's snowy cloak looked so soft, Val wanted to touch it. Underneath her clothes were even stranger. She wore a white tunic that appeared so long it probably trailed behind her. It was gilded in silver, and around her neckline was that same silver but with glittering little stones and baubles added.
But what called to her attention was her looks. She's so beautiful, Val marveled. Her hair was so long and shone like the moon. When her gaze turned to her, Val gasped.
Her eyes had different colors.
She rose from her chair, her movements fluid.
At that moment, Val promised herself she would be like this mysterious woman.
"Hello, Val," She spoke like she was singing. Val just gaped at her. "My name is Shiera."
"Lady Shiera is a Learned One," her mother spoke. She looked sad and worried. Val wanted to hug her and ask if all was alright with her.
"Really?" Val wanted to be a Learned One since the Crow visited her in her dreams.
She had told Dalla about those, but not mother. Not yet.
"I came all the way here for you, little star," the lady said, kneeling in front of her. Her warm hands held Val's chin. Not like when mother was angry but soft. She wasn't wearing any gloves.
How could her hands be so warm?
"I have a great deal to teach you."
.
.
"Not all power comes from wielding magic or a sword," Lady Shiera admonished her.
Val was tired. She has been under Lady Shiera's tutelage for five years now and hadn't seen her mother or Dalla for two of those.
I miss mother.
I miss Dalla.
I miss my people.
"My mother can silence a man with a look." Val had seen it many times, she used to try and copy it, but Dalla would laugh at her instead.
"Yes. Mother Arsa is much respected not just for her lineage but for the commitment she gives to her people."
"A ruler must be just, keep their word, and listen in order to protect those under their care." She quoted her mother.
Lady Shiera gave her a heartfelt smile. "If only the leaders I knew understood that. But, at times, you lead over an environment that doesn't allow you to be honorable and righteous. Sometimes you must also be cunning and ruthless. And at times, you must decide between two unbearable choices."
"How do you choose?"
"You must weigh each decision. Remember that every action has a consequence."
Val thought it over. But at the tender age of ten, it was hard to imagine such a scenario.
"Imagine this: a child and an old woman, which one shall you save?"
"The child," Val answered with ease.
When the winter came, the elders would go into the woods, knowing they would never return. Their sacrifice would allow the younger to have food to survive until the worse part of winter ended, and they could once again hunt or plant food.
"That is easy, isn't it. What if you have a child and two young women?" Val was about to speak, but Shiera added. "Two young women who can reproduce soon, against a child that may or may not survive childhood."
"I... The child?"
Shiera gave her a look.
"It is not easy, is it?" She paused.
Val looked at her lap. Her mind couldn't imagine letting a child die. But she also knew children didn't always grow into adults. Val had an older brother she never met that died at twelve. Mother had lost two babes before their second name day. And mother just named Artos when he perished at three. Val was five, but she remembered it.
"What if you have to sacrifice a child to save a man that would save thousands? Would you let that child die for them, little star? What if it was more than one?"
.
.
Val watched the red drop contorting her breast. The exhaustion she felt was beyond the physical. She turned her half-closed eyes to Jon, who laid next to her.
His body was still like the dead.
Using the little strength left, Val moved closer into his cold body.
Melisandre still sang in a strange language. The more Val stared at her, the less of Melisandre she saw. Her blood-red hair was turning silver, and if not for those red eyes, Val might have called her the name of her old teacher.
Am I going mad?
There was a question in those blood eyes. Val nodded.
Val closed her eyes as she felt the stab.
A scream filled the room, but there was no pain following it.
But there was cold.
Freezing cold.
Then it burned and burned and burned.
Val remembered the old saying: nothing burns like the cold.
She understood it now, as the burn filled her inside up until it was all-consuming.
Val shuddered. The fire that inside her wan agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover's hand. Strange voices called to her from days long past. Her mother. Dalla. Mance. Lady Shiera. They all called. They called her daughter, Val, Little star, princess. They called and called and called. Val wanted to embrace all of them.
She knew she was weeping. Her tears burned her eyes and face.
.
.
Val awoke with a gasp.
Hands wrapped around her neck and choked the air out of her.
She wanted to scream, but as her vision cleared, Val saw the black curls and the blood eyes staring at her.
"Jon," she whispered, her throat protesting in pain. "It's Val."
His eyes changed from red to blue, to purple, to black.
"Val," his voice thickly called for her. "Val."
Before she could say something, his lips met hers. There was nothing soft about the bruising kiss. The tightness of his hands lessened but didn't move from her neck.
It was raw and possessive. His body merged with hers, and she could taste blood in her mouth. Nothing else mattered in that moment but them. Jon pulled her hair slightly when she was trying to come up for breath.
Val moaned.
"Mine," he growled in a dark tone.
Val nodded unashamedly. His grin was predatory and Val felt her legs shaking. Gods... The blonde pulled Jon to her so she could keep showing him how much she missed the man.
Finally, she wanted to scream as Jon's hands began to map her body. She did the same with his lean muscle back. Her mind was a blank page of pleasure and her mouth sang for more and more and more.
"It worked." A voice interrupted her pleasure.
Val cried in protest as Jon left her.
But what came next shocked her. At an almost inhuman speed, Jon had Melisandre choking. There was nothing close to passion in that gesture. It was an animal ready to attack its prey.
Silence filled the room, from the corner of her eyes, she saw an incredulous Ser Davos stop in his footsteps. Good. His gaze was on the ground instead of on the couple.
Val got up from the table and covered Jon's back with her body. She rested her head on his shoulder and kissed his throat.
"Easy, my love," she tried to gentle his anger.
She pressed soft kisses but didn't move her body, only wrapped her arms around his.
He was cold, and Val felt like she was burning.
He let Melisandre go, and his breathing began to sound somewhere close to human. But Val didn't stop the little kisses or the murmurings of his name. Like a lover's sweet caress.
Jon gasped. From the corner of her eyes, Ghost awoke.
At that moment, she realized he was beginning to realize what happened.
"I'm here, Jon," she whispered, repeating it over and over until she felt his body begin to return to normal.
His hands, and by consequence, her own, traveled to his chest, touching each of his scars. Val kissed his shoulder in repetitive actions. She felt his hurt in her soul.
Val tilted her head in the direction of the man by the door, and she felt Jon tense. As she looked down, Val realized, both she and Jon were almost naked. Jon moved their bodies so the newcomers could only see Val's face.
She turned to Melisandre, who looked at Jon like he would give her the answers to all the world's questions. Of the two, she would be the one Jon would be most uncomfortable with. And besides, the Red Woman would want answers that Jon was in no state to answer.
"Leave," she ordered but shook her head at Ser Davos.
Once they were alone, Val guided Jon onto the table. As he sat, his arms wrapped themselves around her waist and moved her body until she was kneeling between his legs. Any other time, Val would protest, but there was something magnetic in his dark eyes that made her follow without question.
She rested her head on his thigh and tilted it to face him.
His hungry gaze didn't leave her face. One of his hands held the back of her neck, while the other played her with hair. Were his eyes even darker? Was her hair lighter?
"What do you remember, Jon?"
"Love," he ordered.
Val blinked in confusion then realized. She willed her body not to move. "What do you remember, my love?"
"They stabbed me," he growled.
Val nodded then added, "They will get what is coming to them, my love."
Something shifted in his eyes as Ghost sat next to them. He and Ghost seemed to communicate something between them. Anger transformed into sadness and pain. His gaze went to Ser Davos, but he didn't react to him as he did with Melisande. Perhaps it was because between his legs and Ghost's entire body, Val was hidden from the man's vision.
"Olly...he put a knife in my heart." He looked at her with eyes full of anguish, and then at Ser Davos as if he needed someone to deny all that happened. "I was dead."
"You were dead. And now you're not. That's completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you."
"I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it. And now I'm back. Why?"
Because you were surrounded by traitorous crows. Val wanted to speak but allowed Ser Davos to take over the conversation. Val knew that despite the few conversations Jon had with the man, there was a lot of respect and a sense of familiarity to them.
"I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You clean up as much of the shit as you can."
"I don't know how to do that. I thought I did, but...I failed."
"Good. Now go fail again."
"Or not," Val warned. "Stop fighting to survive. Fight to live."
Jon seemed too troubled and lost in his mind. Val turned to Ser Davos. The man nodded and left the room.
It took Jon minutes to realize they were alone once more.
"I shouldn't be here, Val."
"Of course you should, my love. Do you think I'll let you leave me without properly finishing your stealing? What wife do you take me for?"
"What?" He asked, startled.
"You stole into that tent and then put me in your tower, Lord Snow." She said, the playfulness between them coming naturally to her.
"I didn't steal you, Val."
"Of course you did." You stole your Ygritte, too. "And then you set me off to find Tormund when the Thief was in the Moonmaid. And I returned to you."
He gaped at her. Val fought the urge to kiss him in that moment.
"Val! That is not the proper way to marry. I didn't even steal you properly."
"Then do it," she challenged him.
A flash of predatory hunger streaked through his eyes. But this time, it was gone far too quickly.
"I can't. I'm a brother of-" Val kissed the hand curling around her hair as she sensed the pain he felt. "They killed me. My brothers killed me. I was dead. How?"
"Melisandre brought you back." Val went with the simpler response. Jon was in no state to understand the complicated process. And Val didn't understand half of it.
His eyes traveled to her chest. Melisandre kept some of her privacy by not removing the band around her breasts, but it didn't cover the fresh wound atop her left breast.
His tone was laced with horror, "What have you done, Val?"
"I helped the red witch bring you back," she said with confidence. "Don't even dare to say anything against what I did! You're back, that's all that mattered. "
"And now I'm back. Why?"
Because I love you.
Because I know you're special.
"Because the gods willed it so. They decided you must keep on living. All you have to decide is what to do going forward. As all people who live and breathe must do."
Jon took a deep breath and nodded.
She moved to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. A chaste kiss that Val hoped would give him some sparkle back. As she opened her eyes, Jon's face was still lost.
Then because there was something of the old Jon in him, he blushed, while staring at her half-covered breasts. Then he looked down and realized they had only their smallclothes on.
"You're- I am-" Jon said staring at her uncovered legs.
"Half-naked? Yes," Val said with amusement. "Perhaps, we should put something on? It is cold in here," she turned her lips into a grin. "Unless you want to keep me warm."
"My vows."
"What vows? You're no longer bound to those vows."
He seemed to think her words over. His hands went back to her waist, and he pulled her up with a gentleness that he didn't have before. Now, they were eye to eye.
His hand was warm as he traced her cheekbone. "Gods, you're beautiful." He shook his head and then swallowed. "Not here, Val." He whispered. "Not in here."
Deep down, Val understood.
.
.
Jon I
Jon watched as Val put on a shapeless undergown. The roughspun brown thing didn't belong on a body like Val's, but he felt a thrill of satisfaction when she put on his cloak. Mine.
He shifted. His mind couldn't think of anything else but Val. Jon still had her taste on his tongue. Honey, warm, and something metallic. It was addictive, like the first rays of sunshine after a long storm.
Her eyes turned to him. A beast inside him growled with desire. Jon wanted her back in his arms, make her a proper wife. He could imagine her with a babe in her belly and another in his arms. Jon could teach them to fight and Val would teach them how to be fearless.
"I need to speak with Tormund. Meet you later, my love?"
Jon nodded absentminded, as he watched her walk away. A beast inside him growled at that. He had to physically lock his legs to halt himself from stopping her from leaving him.
My love. My love. My love.
He turned to Ghost in hopes of clearing his mind, but the direwolf tilted his head as if he was expecting him to take Val on the table, and didn't understand why Jon didn't do it.
I laid dead on that table.
Jon fisted his hands. A rush to take revenge overcame him. His mind froze as he trembled in anger.
They killed him.
They betrayed him.
Jon imagined hunting each one of them down and stabbing each one until there was no blood left in them. A growl filled the room and the smell of blood overcame his senses once more.
A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. He was about to snap at whoever it was until a mass of dark curly ringlets appeared. Jon could smell the perfume used to comb it with.
His muscles relaxed. "You can enter, Satin."
The young man looked relieved when he saw him.
"You are truly alive," he said with tears streaming down his face.
"Aye,"
Satin laughed. When he stopped, even Jon had a little smile on his lips. The boy he had made one of his stewards had clothes in his hands.
When Satin put the clothes on the table, Jon could smell the distinct scent of his friend. It was a sweet smell that reminded Jon of the flowers on Winterfell. Jon took a deep breath and felt dizzy with all the senses that overcame him. He could smell the leather from the clothes, the burning fire in the hearth, the candles lighting the room, even the blood that he couldn't see.
He also smelled Satin's pure relief.
Jon looked at Ghost, who tilted his head.
He wasn't warging. Jon realized with trepidation.
What was happening?
"Jon," Satin said in a worry-filled tone.
As soon as Jon saw Satin's arm move in his direction, his hand stopped the movement. It was such a swift action, Jon couldn't even begin to understand it.
Satin's eyes - not black as Jon had believed before but a deep shade of brown - blinked in shock and pain.
Jon moved his gaze to where he held his friend's wrist in a breakable grip.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, letting the hand go.
"It's understandable, Jon. You've been through something no one could imagine."
Satin's kindness moved something inside Jon. He had a flash to Satin and Val leaning towards him, both in tears. Jon wanted to ask him why Satin did that. Why he was so desperate with Jon's death. Satin wasn't very much liked in the watch, but there were some who would keep his back even with Jon gone.
"I only felt the first three," he confessed in a low tone, his eyes on his scarred chest "Pain. I felt pain in the first stabbings. And betrayal. I wanted Ghost to come and kill all of them. But when the fourth came… There was only cold. So cold ... I called Ghost. There was only cold."
He felt something soft being pulled over his shoulders. Jon touched the snow bear fur. It felt strange to see something other than his black wool cloak.
Val had taken it with her. Jon shifted, remembering the possessive reaction he had to the woman.
"You will get your justice, Jon. And then you're free."
Jon blinked.
Free. Was he free? It didn't feel like it.
.
.
When he was elected Lord Commander, Jon had taken Noye's old quarters behind the armory instead of moving into the Lord Commander's Tower. Most of the building was destroyed during the battle.
Deep down, he chose not to stay in the Lord Commander's chambers because he couldn't sleep close to the place Ygritte had died.
Jon wouldn't go there now or his old chambers. He barely left and only to speak with Edd and Tormund, and to show people he was alive. As soon as he was done, he would come back to the King's Tower, lock himself in the upper floor, and strip most of the clothes off his body.
The chambers smelled like Val. It calmed his senses.
Jon almost went to rest on the bed before propriety finally snapped in his brain. He still couldn't move out of the room, so he sat on the floor by the hearth. Ghost, who followed him since he ... awoke, had no sense of decency and laid comfortably in Val's bed.
Jon stayed by the fire, watching the flames in a state of bereft nothingness. He wondered what he could do now, but every time his mind tried to form a plan, blonde curls, shining blue-grey eyes, and lush curves filled his mind.
His body responded to that image as if he was a green boy seeing his first naked woman. Part of him was sickened by it. He barely was able to deal with touching Tormund and Edd. And Satin. He still remembered his reaction when his friend was trying to console him. But Val.
The door opened, and the smell that was tormenting him hit him fully. He willed himself not to turn, but as soon as he heard the sound of a clasp opening and of clothes hitting the ground, he turned.
The candlelight shone in Val's hair turning it a shade of dark honey. Her skin looked near translucent as she stripped the wool tunic and stood in a smock. Jon adjusted himself as Val came to sit down next to him, but not before petting Ghost, who was half-sleep by now.
Val sat on the pelted floor and undid her larger braid. Jon had to sharply inhale as he watched the strands falling down her body.
Gods. She is the loveliest sight I've ever seen.
Before he could stop himself, Jon pulled Val towards him and began to undo the two braids that had come free.
"I can't get you out of my mind," he grumbled.
She leaned her back into his front and tilted her sharp face to his direction.
"What have you done to me?" He wondered. His eyes moved towards the part of Val's body where, despite being clothed, an eerily similar stab mark to his own was.
Val's worried eyes fixed on his face.
"I knew you went to Ghost. We needed a ... connection to bring you back."
"Your scar? You let that woman-" Jon saw red as he imagined someone stabbing his Val.
His Val. Where did that come from?
A soft hand traversed the scar on his face.
"She did stab me. With weirwood."
Jon tensed. Wood! How painful must it feel being stabbed by wood?
"I didn't die. Melisandre used some potions to allow me to live. I think I stood between the living and the dead. I remember hearing my mother and Dalla. But I don't know if it was real."
Jon wrapped his arms around her in hopes of cocooning them from the world.
"She used her magic. I used ashes from an ash tree to draw old runes on my skin. Melisandre said prayers in her language, but I don't remember much else."
"I feel different," he confessed.
"You are different." Her hand on his cheek was cold and distracting.
I could taste her lips again. Jon only needed to lean forward a bit to do it.
"Your eyes are even darker than before, I think."
"I meant inside." Val looked at him with understanding. "My senses. I could smell your scent in the room when I entered. And now that you are here, I can smell the ash on your body, altering your scent."
"You went into Ghost, Jon. You came back with some of him. Wolves have strong connections with their instincts."
"I can't stand the smell of leather," he confessed. "But the worst is you."
Val leaned away from him, and he could see the hurt in her face. His arms immediately stopped her from moving and pulled her closer again.
Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't stand to be away from you. I want to take you. Smell me on you, and have your scent on me," he confessed shamefully.
Val's hand went to his chin and moved his face closer to hers to the point he could feel her breathing on his lips. He licked them.
"You want to mate me," she whispered in a barely audible tone.
"I want to make you mine," he murmured before pulling her into a kiss.
Author's Note:
Carolus. Magnus81: I'm glad you liked it. Val is one of my favorites as well.
Lainad100: Espero que les hayan gustado. Respondo a todos los comentarios porque significan mucho para mí.
Dudeofdudes: Stannis is (probably) my favorite book character. Unfortunately for this story plot, I need him to be dead. My feelings on the Stannis would probably be longer this chapter... In a better world, Stannis and Ned would be the true bromance of ASOIAF.
As for Sansa. I hate show!Sansa. I tried to like her (and I did until S6) but in the end, everyone was praising her for being "the smartest person" and taking down Littlefinger and I was like... Are we even watching the same show? They even made everyone around her "dumb" so they could show her smart she was. I hate when writers do that. I think book!Sansa will become a cunning and ruthless woman but with actual intelligence.
I think the show writers couldn't write women having power on their own, disagree in policy, and still respect the other. Sansa's racism about the Essosi people is something I think the show didn't even realize was portraiting...which is way worse.
There will be three-way relationships, first with Dany/Jon/Val and the endgame will probably be Val/Jon/Satin. There will be no explicit sex. I am not comfortable writing smut. Dany will not be the villain in this... She and Val will probably have a closer relationship (if not as sexual as Jon/Dany) because of share experience and because the show lacks proper female friendship and I want to write that. There will not be Mad Queen Dany, but her end will be tragic... I am undecided on how to end it. I have many ideas raging from death at the Battle of Winterfell to being assassinated.
Tyrion... Where to start with Tyrion. Book Tyrion is a brilliantly written villain. Show Tyrion is the "good Lannister who does not bad" for most of the show... I will try and make him more show Tyrion but with an actual brain.
I love your thought, feel free to show them.