Four walls.

One small door.

Stale air.

The moment Val stepped into the Stark lord's small room – what did Jon Snow call it? A solar? – she felt like a prisoner. Any minute now, the guards could come rushing in and tackle her down on the Stark lord's orders. Of course she'd fight as viciously as she could to save her own skin, but there was something…unnerving about fighting in a tightly confined space.

"Shall we begin?" the Stark lord had inquired, waving his hand to indicate Val, Tormund, Jon and the Stark lord's wife to sit at the empty chairs opposite him. It was the Stark lady who sat first, followed by Jon Snow. Val exchanged looks with Tormund. Was this a trap?

"Perhaps bread and salt?" grunted Tormund cautiously.

Stark smiled – jestingly? "Of course. While we wait for bread and salt, I would be grateful to know the name of my guests."

"The Giantsbane," said Tormund instantly.

"He's Tormund," spoke Val before Stark could question him further. "And I am Val. Mance Rayder's my late sister's husband."

"Did you rescue Jon?" questioned Stark with a guarded tone. "If you did, I must thank you for doing so. You had-"

"I stole him," said Val bluntly. "When we fought at the Wall, I stabbed him and then took him beyond the Wall as my prisoner. I thought it would be nice to steal a southron lord for my own. You never know when they become useful. A captive can be traded or used for hard labour. Even if he is dead, he still can be useful." A smirk appeared on her face as Stark looked slightly uneasy.

"When did you marry my son?"

Val refrained herself from scowling. Oh alright, Jon was an adequate lover, but to be called his wife? I'd rather run stark naked in the snow than call myself Lord Snow's lady wife, she thought savagely as she hurriedly hunted for an appropriate answer in her thoughts.

"Val stole the boy," said Tormund sharply, crossing his arms. "Jon Snow's Val's man. Does it really matter when they married?" He rolled his eyes. "Val stole him in the heat of battle and they fucked a number of times. Married in the eyes of the gods. Isn't that good enough for you, Stark?" Jon Snow shot him a look. Val's lips pursed as Tormund sighed. "Lord Stark?"

To Val's surprise, Stark did not look at all offended. It unnerved her. Better an angry lord than a sly one.

"You said you are here to negotiate," said Stark's wife, who looked nothing like any woman of the North Val had seen or met. She had soft hands – probably had never bothered to learn to fight, pitch tents or help set up camps – and jewellery decorated her thin fingers and long dark hair. It irritated Val that the Stark's wife donned rings on her fingers – rings like all pieces of jewellery were prizes won in battles and wars. Enemies were killed and stripped down, and everything that'd once belonged to them would belong to those who killed them. Val doubted that Stark's wife killed anyone – she did not deserve the jewellery.

"Milord? Milady?" A young man had appeared, carrying a large plate. He must be one of the servants in this massive prison of a castle.

Stark nodded for him set the plate down on his table. "Thank you," he said and the young man dipped his head and left. On the plate were thick slices of bread, a small bowl containing a tiny mountain of salt beside it. Stark gestured for Val and Tormund to eat. "I suppose you will be more at ease once guest right is invoked," Stark said as Val took a piece of bread and sprinkled salt over it.

Val bit into the bread. It was soft, the softest piece of bread she had ever sunk her teeth into. This is for the weak and elderly, she thought as she chewed. I doubt the elderly will eat this. Since a young age, she – and everyone she knew – feasted on hard bread. Some days the bread would be stale yet food was so scarce in the midst of winter that stale bread was considered a luxury.

"I doubt all the Free Folk wish for peace," remarked Stark mildly once the big plate was empty. "Whose idea was it?"

"Mance Rayder's," said Jon promptly. "It was all his idea to send me here as an envoy along with" – he hesitated – "my wife. And Tormund. You are right Father. Not all the Free Folk desire peace with us. Some want to continue this war, but it is Mance Rayder's wish, and I am confident he will convince the other chiefs that peace is in both our interests. No one wants a war during winter." His father and mother both nodded cautiously in agreement. "Mance also suggested for me and Val to wed," Jon said, glancing at Val properly for the first time since they entered Stark's confining chamber. "The 'southron way' of guaranteeing peace, according to him. We will negotiate and decide on the terms of peace and present them on a planned day at the Wall to the free folk and brothers of the Night's Watch where we will finalise them."

"You must be aware that the black brothers are stubborn. They won't want to settle for peace terms set by their sworn enemies."

"They have no choice," said Val bluntly. Both Jon and his solemn father turned and stared at her, the latter with what seemed like mild interest. "The crows are losing," Val went on, ignoring the frustrated look Jon shot her. "We can fight them to utter submission even in the coldest of winters – perhaps by the end of winter, we will have more numbers to conquer northern land."

Stark darkened. "That is quite a boast."

Val smirked. "Not a boast. A promise."

"This is why we need peace!" Jon said quickly. "Father, you are the only man in Westeros the northern lords, the black brothers and the free folk will listen to. If you negotiate, the peace will last hopefully forever."

"What are Mance Rayder's terms?" asked Stark, learning forward.

"Wait," said the Stark woman before Jon could speak. "I wish to know why Jon is so willing to be emissary for the free folk. I am happy he has returned to us, but to my knowledge, hostages are not usually sent as envoys to their captors' enemy. I would've questioned if you were in truth Jon Snow, if not for Arya."

Stark looked hesitant. "I know my son, Ashara," Val heard him mutter. "What if you are right though, and they have more hostages-"

"I am here as a sign of good faith," interrupted Jon Snow, exasperated. "Do you honestly think I am willing to work for Mance Rayder and turn against you?"

Tormund snorted. "Some of us thought you were his pet, boy. You hunted with us and killed with us. Almost one of us!"

There was sudden silence, Stark and his wife staring at Jon, shock written over their faces. Looking at each of them in turn, Val spoke. "Mance Rayder's terms – a truce between the free folk, the crows and the northmen. Fur and other supplies such as food and wood, will be traded between us and there will be no fighting. If word comes around that a man or woman of the free folk is dead at the hands of a crow or a northman, we'll demand justice. If we discover one of our own killing a crow or a northman, he or she will be punished. Fair, don't you think?"

"No pact between the free folk and northmen have lasted longer than a week," said Stark brusquely. "How can I – and the northern lords – believe you?"

"You southroners like creating permanent union through marriages," said Val with a scowl. "Why do you think I had to take your son as a husband?" She could not resist a shudder. She still could not believe Mance forced her to embark on an awful career as a southron bastard's wife. Never in her life had Val considered to be a wife – anyone's wife. I thought I would die with a spear or dagger in my hand, not giving birth to a squalling babe. Val knew she wasn't pregnant at the moment, but what if her husband decided he needed an heir?

"There are numerous reasons," remarked the Stark's woman. "You could be ah, with child, and Jon did the honourable thing of wedding you."

Val coughed as Tormund roared with laughter.

"One marriage will not solidify peace!" said Stark loudly. "Fighting in the war's already depleted supplies and no lord will be willing to share their supplies with their enemies! They are already reluctant to give furs and supplies to the men of the Night's Watch as it is!"

"We are all human," Val pointed out. "We all need fur to stay warm and food to remain alive. We are as civilised as you are."

"You are aware that you are called wildlings throughout the Seven Kingdoms? Not an insult," Stark added as Tormund Giantsbane slowly rose, an enraged look on his face. "Only a fact," Stark said a second later. "It is true that we're all human, but due to the frequent wars between you and my people, I will not be surprised if my lords want you dead from starvation or winter illnesses."

Val sighed and gritted her teeth. By the gods! Stark was so stubborn! She gave a look to Giantsbane and he nodded. The time for reasoning was over.

"You're a man of bluntness," said Val casually. She ignored the warning glower her husband shot at her. "I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that currently, we, the free folk, are winning the war against the crows, even when they have the aid of your men. Do you want to be known as the lord who lost the North? Mance Rayder mentioned before we left that if we do not show up on the agreed time to finalise terms, all chances of peace are at an end and we'll attack. If you kneelers like to kneel so much, it might satisfy you if you kneel to us. You might not have a choice in that matter. We might even break your legs if we feel particularly cruel. Oh wait, you think us vicious, heartless savages anyway." She suppressed a smirk as Stark bit his lip.

"I will consider your terms," Stark said finally. "We will negotiate again later. I must think – alone." The last words were directed at his wife and Jon. "Until then, please enjoy the comforts of Winterfell," Stark said to Tormund and Val. "If there is something you need at all, you just need to ask."


"Is it true?"

Before Val could take in the sights of Winterfell, she was pounced upon by the small brown-haired girl who had greeted Jon first upon arrival. To Val's chagrin, she was surrounded by two more girls around the same age as the first small girl. Val looked down at them. "Is what true? Who are you?" she asked after a second of thought. Better to know one's interrogators.

"Arya," said the first girl impatiently. "That's my sister Gwen and Lyanna," she went on, pointing to the others. "Is it true that Jon stole you? Maester Luwin said that beyond the Wall, you steal your wives."

"Husbands too," said Val, biting back annoyance. Why did everyone think that it was Jon who stole her? Brooding Jon Snow probably couldn't even steal a sack of potatoes from a mountain clan if his life depended on it. I've never been stolen in my life. Not from a lack of effort in the men's parts. There had always been one or two men lusting after her from time to time, some bold enough to try and steal her. Like all women beyond the Wall, she fought them, sometimes with weapons and sometimes with her bare hands. Every one of her old suitors had slunk away, their heads down with embarrassment after Val successfully defended herself. "I stole him," Val said irritably. "He's more my man than I his woman."

"Did you fall in love with him?" asked the girl called Gwen.

Val was quite tempted to roll her eyes. "Falling in love had naught to do with it. Surely you lot have something better to do at this time?"

"Will you be living here with us?" Arya pressed. "You know, as you're married to my brother Jon now." She looked happier for some odd reason while the silent and scowling girl Lyanna remained well, silent. "You can teach us girls to fight if you do live here," Arya said brightly. "We won't have to beg Robb or Theon or the new master-at-arms once he is appointed."

The thought of living at Winterfell like a demure southron flower sickened Val. To sew and knit all day…how confining. "I won't be living here," said Val flatly. "I have a home and it's most certainly not Winterfell."

Arya flinched and looked hurt. "Aren't you going to live with Jon?"

"Who says Jon will be living here?"

"Who says Jon isn't? This is his home."

Val huffed. "Excuse me my lady, but Lord Snow's still a hostage. He's only here with me and Giantsbane to negotiate with your father. He fought against us and I chose to wound and capture him rather than kill him. Just because he is my man now means nothing. My mother's mother had slain an inadequate lover that she had stolen the summer before."

"Hopefully that will not happen to me." Jon Snow appeared at her side, smiling fondly at the girls. Val cursed herself for being so distracted. She should be more aware of her surroundings – especially as she was in unfamiliar territory.

"Lord Snow," said Val, glancing at him. "Checking up on your sisters are you? It is quite brotherly of you. I can assure you that they're all alive and uninjured. I'd eaten bread and salt. I don't like killing children either."

"I never thought you would kill my sisters," said Jon steadily. "If you had killed them, I would kill you too."

"As I would you, Snow. By the end of the day, we'd both end up dead."

"Can we see you fight?" inquired Gwen. "With swords?"

Val laughed. "It'd be fun but I cannot wield a weapon – no matter how useless – within the grounds of Winterfell! Politics and everything. Who knows? Perhaps when the long winter is over, we will fight against enemies together."

"Or maybe not," said Jon abruptly. "Val, where's Tormund? My father wants us in his solar. He must've finished deliberating on the terms."

Val shrugged. "How am I to know where the Giantsbane is? I don't even know my way around this massive labyrinth of stone and mortar."

"We'll find him on the way then." He gave the three other girls another smile – Arya smiled back. Jon's smile faded when he gestured for Val to follow him back to the stifling room he called a solar. "You did not have to tell my father that your people are winning," he muttered to her. "You told him twice. I was sent here for the purpose of ensuring peaceful negotiations – do you honestly think menacing him with the reminder of the black brothers losing will help? You were fortunate that it was my father you spoke to. If it was Greatjon Umber or Lord Karstark and it was before you had bread and salt, you would've lost your head. You may have to think of sweetening the terms if you want my father to agree to them."

"The terms are sweet enough," said Val stiffly. "What more do you want Snow? A host of unhappy marriages? That's your southron way of sealing pacts isn't it? I believe one's word of honour is worthless now."

Jon darkened. "Honour is thought differently by different people."

"Val!" Tormund strode up to Val and Jon, a big grin on his face. "Did you see all the food in the Great Hall? It can last us for months! Oh, and the girls!" He gave an approving whistle. "Some are like they are made from ice!" He chuckled. "I'd love to melt them with a good-"

"Lord Stark will not have it," interrupted Jon.

"Surely your lord wants more little northmen? Little ones that will grow as tall as trees and strong as oxen?"

"The girls," said Val, changing the subject. "They are your sisters? I thought the ladies of the south are not allowed to be interested in martial pursuits."

Jon's darkened expression was replaced by a soft smile. "Only Arya and Gwen are my sisters. And Lyarra of course, but she is in the south. Arya always wanted to learn to fight and I think Gwenysse was taught a trick or two with the spear in her time at Dorne."

"They'd be excellent spearwives."

Jon did not reply. As the door to the Stark lord's small, oppressive lair came in view, Val swallowed an upcoming groan. Why couldn't the discussions be held in a more open area like that courtyard? Jon had also mentioned Winterfell having a massive godswood – wouldn't that be a better place for negotiations?

"This is for your own protection," said Jon so softly that Val almost didn't hear him. "Did you see all the banners? They belong to the noble Houses of the North – I suspect many of their troops are here as we speak. What do you think will occur when they discover you here? Yes, I know you can fight, but against over a dozen trained soldiers by yourself? You'll be dead in minutes. Besides, it is safer to have our negotiations in my father's solar."

"Are you a mind reader too, Lord Snow?" said Val grouchily.

"Those banners do look rather nice," said Tormund thoughtfully, to Val's utter astonishment. "Good to know who your men are."

Val wrinkled her nose. "Too southron." She said no more when Jon pushed the solar door open and Val found herself forced in the little chamber for the second time that very day. As Jon and Tormund sat down on the uncomfortable chairs in the room, Val remained standing. She still did not trust Stark at all.

"I have considered the conditions," said Stark, without wasting any time with pointless southron pleasantries. "An hour earlier, Jon told me his terms of his uh, marriage to you, Val. Apparently he requested a number of you to join the Night's Watch. That is a fair stipulation."

"We won't take vows," warned Tormund, "and we won't kneel."

Stark nodded impatiently. "As you wish. Mance Rayder's terms are quite fair – however, I add a few of mine own."

"Yes?" said Val, wary. Was this the moment he requested her to remain in the castle for the rest of her life as a hostage?

"As you said, the free folk are human like the rest of us. Amongst your people I am certain are children and the elderly. Living beyond the Wall isn't particularly safe for them. Yes, I am aware you are proud people and have lived that way for a number of centuries, but this is just a few steps towards maintaining peace. For a few years of late, I have considered having new lords settled in the Gift. Now I am thinking of offering the lands of the Gift to you and your people to settle in.

"There are conditions for that of course. If you and Lord Commander Mallister both agree, I will name Jon Lord of Queenscrown and Protector of the Gift. You'll have no need to swear allegiance to him. I only want Jon there to ensure peace in the Gift and the crops, food and material shared evenly between the new settlers and the men of the Night's Watch."

"I rather be trampled to death by a drunk bear than give up my grain to a lazy, useless son of a bitch lord!" snarled Tormund. "Even if it is this boy!" He jabbed a finger at Jon's face. Val nodded in agreement. It was already bad enough that men of the south thought of her as 'the wildling princess' just because her sister's man was Mance. Now Lady of Queenscrown? No. Too southron. Much too southron. It would be better to let Jon Snow be lord and return home without him – if not for that damned peace pact. Val could already imagine the other chieftains' reactions. Lady Val this, Lady Val that…

Ugh.

"I thought Snows can't be lords," Val heard herself say tartly. She was pleased to see both Stark and Jon wince.

"That part is easy to deal with," said Stark, recovering first. "I know you aren't fully pleased with my terms, but I must insist upon it. It is the first step to secure a long peace and unity between the people of the North. If you wish to remain on the land beyond the Wall, that is your choice. I only want to offer the lands of the Gift to you as a shelter for the winter and a place you can grow food and material without the need to raid."

"You want us to change our ways," said Val flatly, unimpressed. "You claim it's for peace, but what after you die? What if the next lord declares all womenfolk of the North unable to learn to fight? What if he demands us to swear allegiance and kneel or face death? There's no guarantee of peace."

Tormund grunted in agreement. "I rather have my-"

"There will be no peace then!" snapped Jon, glaring at him and Val. "We are all proud but there must be some giving and taking in negotiations! Do you think the northern lords will be happy either?"

"Do you expect us to feel sorry for them?" Val retorted, crossing her arms. "I'd be delighted to see them-"

"I have said my terms," Stark cut in, standing up.

"You will accompany us to the Wall?" questioned Val.

Stark hesitated. Oh yes, his decisions were wavering already. Either to go fight in the south or bring some sort of peace in the North.

"Yes," Stark said at last. "Yes, I suppose I will."

Val nodded. She grabbed the cup on Stark's table and raised it mockingly. "To a more prosperous and peaceful North!"

Tormund, Jon and the Stark lord remained grim.


Had a busy week working at a casual job I picked up last week - now that it's over, more writing time :) General interest question for Daenerys and Jon shippers (or anyone actually): why? Why do you ship them? It's just I had an ASOIAF discussion with a friend yesterday and she is a hardcore Daenerys/Jon shipper and one of her reasons for shipping them is because they look good together...

IF Jon is a Targaryen (I don't believe it unless it is confirmed - if confirmed - in the books), then his intimate relationship with Daenerys is incestuous and I don't think that will bode well in 'current Westeros'.

IF Jon is a bastard, what is the point of the relationship? It most likely won't end with marriage as there is no political gain for Daenerys in marrying a bastard.

Why a sudden interest in my 2 least favourite characters? Yesterday's ASOIAF discussion was lively and engaging and my mind is still swimming with ASOIAF haha.