Only half listening, Michael watched the day's negotiations as he mulled over his miscalculations, wishing he had gotten more sleep. Val had not been receptive to his objections to unleashing the worst Free Folk raiders on the Starks' enemies. She saw it as the only way to keep said raiders from attacking the Starks or rebelling against Mance. And that was that.

The nobles' arguing kept intruding on his attempts to come up with an answer to the problem.

The arrangement of Lord Robb's solar had been changed, and comfortable seats arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. Two had been set aside for he and Zheng, another for Val near theirs with Lord Umber beside her, and a greater array of the lords filling out the rest with Lord Robb directly across from Val. There was no escaping the talk, and it was all about the price of alliance.

The idea of unleashing wildlings on their enemies positively tickled every one of the nobles present, they had spoken about the consequences for the Lannisters for an hour at least. The sore part was over how to make sure one side didn't betray the other. Not very much headway was being made.

Almost all lords loudly disagreed with the idea of Val marrying Robb, except Lord Umber, who advocated for the marriage with certain conditions. Michael could guess his game though. He wanted Umbers in control on both sides of the border, a situation his family could benefit from in numerous ways.

The nobles weren't going along with that, though they did recognise Val as an Umber, addressing her as Lady. That was something Michael couldn't figure out entirely. His best guess was that because Lord Karstark wanted her to marry one of his sons instead of Robb, and with Lord Umber being the main advocate of taking Val's deal straight up, the other nobles were trying to split the neighbours. Turn Umber against Karstark over potentially owning the Gift, and force a better deal for them.

Val herself remained firm. She had been when Michael had confronted her the night before too, and it seems that disagreement had just been practice.

The Free Folk needed a significant marriage that would stop any of the other noble lords from attacking the Gift. That meant a marriage to a Stark, as far as Val was concerned. The cost to civilians in the south was meaningless to her.

To the lords, she openly stated her disdain for such a marriage, preferring that the man she married should properly steal her in the tradition of her father's people. She was willing to make the sacrifice for the safety of her people.

Naturally, she expected the Starks to do the same. That was one moment Michael did pay full attention to, if only to see the lords squirm and try to not look like hypocrites.

The counter to her argument was an offer to marry Brandon Stark, the younger brother of Robb. The kid himself was present, sitting in a chair beside Lord Robb, each of them with a direwolf curled up at their feet. Brandon Stark was disabled, unable to move his legs, and Michael did not want to ask how that had happened. Val was not tactful in her rejection of the idea, on account of age and infirmity.

So around and around they argued, trying to figure out the best way to work together to pillage the hell out of the lands of their enemies. Eventually even Zheng got bored watching for some threat, got up from her chair and returned with two mugs of something.

"Beer, sir," Zheng said quietly in English, "It's even fluffy on top." She offered one mug to him. Despite needing his wits about him, Michael couldn't help but take it. It was a pure shit of a day. The beer tasted pretty damn good too. If he wasn't on another world, he would've thought it some sort of German lager.

"Thank you, Corporal," Michael replied, before taking another gulp and putting the drink down.

"No problem," Zheng yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, "These guys love to argue, don't they? Thought the whole medieval nobles thing was 'do what I say, or else'. Though maybe I've been in the Army too long, thinking that way."

You argue more than they do, Michael thought, before realising that probably wasn't true. "They have a hierarchy," he said, "But it's a long way from a chain of command."

Zheng shrugged, and took another sip before leaning on her chair's armrest, so she wouldn't distract from the main conversation. "They're a long way from modern warfare too. Did you see their armour when they were riding out to meet us?"

"Yeah, straight out of a history book like the rest of it."

Zheng drank deeply. "Think our bullets can go through all that metal, sir? Looks like stronger stuff than what we took from the Norreys."

Michael smirked. "The pig, Sayer's Ranger rifle or that big revolver he is hiding in his pack would shoot holes in through three knights and out the other side." He pat the side of his rifle. "Ours might be an issue."

Zheng pulled her own carbine onto her lap, examining it. "556 won't go through that steel?"

Michael shook his head. "No, it would go through, it's just the C6 would get a lot more meat per bullet…"

"Lord Duquesne," said Robb Stark in Common, "Do you have something to add?"

Michael brought his hands together. "No."

Lord Robb narrowed his eyes. "Then what were you speaking to Lady Zheng about?"

Michael raised his mug off the small table beside him. "How this beer tastes. It's a lot like something from home."

"Are we boring you, Lord Duquesne?" Lord Karstark asked.

"No, you're not boring me, Lord Karstark," Michael said, "I just think you can only say the same thing so many times before you're saying nothing. Is that your objective? End these talks with no conclusion?"

The lord looked around the room. Others were interested in the question's answer. "No," Karstark replied.

"Time for another recess, Lord Robb," Michael said, getting out of his seat and taking his rifle in hand, "Your lords seem to be competing over a prize. I suggest you decide who gets it. Call us back when you choose someone the prize will choose for herself. Thank you for the beer."

Michael drained his mug, smacking his lips as he set it down. He looked to Zheng and Val. "Let's go." Zheng got up at once. Val took a few seconds, but followed too. Together, they left the solar, Michael stretching as soon as they were out of sight of the lords. So many hours, sat on ass…

"What was that about?" Zheng asked, as they descended the spiral stairway.

"I've let them speak their grievances," Michael said, "Now I'm letting them stew. Hopefully they'll get over whatever bullshit is preventing them from accepting the marriage offer. If not, we'll need a demonstration of what will happen if they keep being stubborn."

"So now you are aiding me," Val scoffed from behind, "After objecting to our joining with the Starks?"

"Don't get twisted about it," Michael said, "I've decided I can't stop you, and that you have the right to make that offer. So I'm expediting my own exit out of this hellhole. If it ends the war in the south more quickly, that's at least an outcome I can live with. Assuming I ever find out about it."

Michael dressed back into his No.5s, had a good lunch, gave some emergency orders to O'Neill via radio, and lay down for a nap. By the time he did, the lords had moved to the Great Hall and their shouts could be heard across the courtyard through the windows.

He didn't try and work out what their mood was from the echoes. He just drifted off and waited to see what luck would grant him, prepared for most outcomes he could imagine.

He wasn't prepared to be kicked awake, however politely.

"Wake up, Lord Duquesne."

Michael blinked away the sleep, finding the only thing he could see clearly was the daylight still pouring in through the windows of the sept near the roof. He rolled over to see who had kicked him, and found one of the unicorn riders standing over him. "What the hell do you want?" he growled at the man, sitting up from his bedroll.

"Is that any way to speak to a king?" the man quietly chuckled, "Such a change from when we first met. It was Your Majesty then."

Michael stood up, what the man had said not quite clicking at first, until he looked at the man's face properly. Long hair had been shaved and a well trimmed beard had been grown out in the fashion of the unicorn riders', but the eyes and easy grin were the same.

"Mance?" Michael asked.

"You seem surprised," Mance replied, "I thought you had discovered who I was during the battle with the Norreys as we rode by your position, and just kept it to yourself."

Michael blinked. "You've been with us the whole time?!"

"Aye, to see the Starks' preparations for war for myself, and aid Val, should she need it. Though she has not spoken to me since arriving, likely to keep attention away from me."

Fury rose in Michael's throat. If he's here, who commands at the Wall?! "Corporal!" he erupted, "Come here!"

Zheng rang across the sept, carbine gripped and ready to aim. "Sir?" she asked on arriving behind.

"Corporal, put this man on his knees now."

Zheng impressed Michael with her complete lack of hesitation. Mance barely had time for his eyes to widen before her foot shot out, catching him on the back of the leg and forcing him onto the stone floor. He flopped down all the way, before Zheng pulled him back up again by the shoulder; on his knees.

Val and some others made to intervene, but Michael grabbed up his own rifle. "No one gets closer!" he declared, "Corporal, cover him." Zheng's carbine came up, the barrel pointing almost down Mance's ear.

The other Free Folk obeyed, but only Val and the other unicorn riders froze solid. They knew. The rest didn't, but they knew. Which means Marcach knew. Michael returned his attention to Mance and Zheng, finding the latter glancing between him and her prisoner. Wondering what his crime was.

"Turn your head to her," Michael said to Mance, "Show her your face." The man didn't do it.

Zheng jabbed him in the cheek with the barrel of her weapon. Mance finally looked, and the Corporal's dark eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Son of a bitch!"

"My thoughts exactly, Corporal," Michael said, "The real question is why he's revealing himself now."

"As I said," Mance intoned, "I thought you discovered the truth at the battle with the Norreys."

"Well, I didn't. Don't make me ask twice, Mance, you won't like my reaction."

Mance scoffed, but answered nonetheless. "I'll pretend I believe you'd bring the Starks' wrath down on yourself for violating guest right, then. The young lord hasn't accepted our offer, accepted Val as his bride. Who would have thought such a thing possible? I came to offer my assistance, talk to the lords as simply another chieftain. I have a talent for convincing men to act in their best interest instead of on their instinct."

Michael lowered himself to a squat and looked the man in the eye. Mance turned his head away, preferring to stare at Zheng's carbine an inch from his nose.

"Time to work that talent now," Michael said, "My instinct is telling me this is all a ruse. That while you are here, pretending to help, things are going to hell at the Wall. Without me there to threaten them and you there to convince them, the chieftains may decide our deal on who gets to go through the Wall isn't worth shit. And that will force me to fight on your side of the war that results, because as far as I could tell, you tried your best."

Mance met his gaze again. "My Queen is more than capable of keeping my word. Tormund and Styr know I went south too, and are assisting her. Between the three of them, there is no collection of chieftains that could possibly make a challenge, not when they control the gates at Castle Black and the Nightfort. And Eastwatch is in the hands of coast and river tribes who are not fond of the rest of us. They'll let no one but their own through. Then there are the Crows, who don't want our menfolk to come through either. Our agreement stands."

"Does it?" Michael asked, standing up again. He pointed at Val, and then at the ground beside him. The 'princess' came over, hand on her dagger. "Take your hand off that weapon."

Val curled her lip, but held up the hand in question. "What are you doing with Mance?"

Not even an apology for the deception. "I'm not sure yet," Michael said, "But a thought did occur to me. You decided to trade the services of your raiders to the Starks for recognition. I could trade you for free passage south, and leave behind your plans to rape and murder."

"You would not do that," Val said, "I have seen you with the Laughing Tree. I have seen you with Ygritte. You would not betray and abandon them."

"I also can't be involved with rape and murder."

Val sighed deeply, eyes narrowed. "What do you think the Stark men will do?"

Michael scratched his chin. "What do you mean? Do to you?"

"Not only to me. Do you think the Stark warriors will leave women alone, not steal what they can, or kill who they want? Do men not do these things on your world?"

"They're punished for those crimes."

"Sometimes," Zheng said flatly, "Only sometimes, sir."

Michael gave a nod, conceding that was true. "Far more often than here, I suspect." Zheng couldn't deny that herself. "Would the Starks do that? Aren't they going to defend their allies?"

"It won't matter, overmuch," Mance said, "And if the Starks drive their enemies from their allies' lands, they'll move into the enemies' lands afterwards. Then the chances of mercy and restraint prevailing are…"

"Zero," Michael interrupted, seeing the issue, "Damn it, you have a point. Lower your weapon, Corporal. Help the man onto his feet again."

Zheng grimaced, but offered Mance a hand. The rest of the room began to go about their own business again. The king got up, giving Michael the stink eye the whole time.

"Don't give me that look," Michael growled, "You put yourself on that floor when you lied to me, because I required the truth."

Mance bent down and rubbed the leg Zheng had kicked. "I would have given that to you."

Michael crossed his arms. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me you were coming along. You got Val, Marcach and presumably all of the unicorn riders to lie to me. Why should I trust you in return?"

"Wallbreaker!" sounded a voice from across the sept.

Michael turned and found a warrior on watch waving his hands, the one sitting on a ledge under the window facing the Great Hall. "They're coming!" he declared.

Michael craned his neck, listening out for the shouting of the nobles he had heard before. It was not gone, but it was a lot quieter. "How many?" he asked the man on watch.

"Eight or nine. The young Stark and the one with a kraken. And warriors."

Michael turned back to the others. "Maybe we're not at an impasse at all," he said to Mance, "I take it you'll want to listen in?"

"Aye."

"Then put your damn helmet on and join us."

It wasn't a minute before Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy walked into the room on their own. "Lady Val, Lord Duquesne," Robb Stark called out from the door, "Please join us."

Michael did not go to the door straight away. He put on his armour and combat webbing, as the two lords watched him do it, picked up his rifle again and waved for another six warriors to follow. Zheng and Val joined him, while Mance was among the warriors.

"You did not need to arm yourself, Lord Duquesne," Robb said, as he led the way out of the sept.

Michael held a palm out to the Stark men-at-arms hanging around, gawking at the corralled unicorns nearby. "Looks like I did."

Greyjoy smirked. "As if it would matter."

"Come with us," Robb said.

"To where?"

"The godswood."

Well, that's not suspicious at all. "Lead the way."

Michael had his group trail behind the Stark one, and sent Zheng a little ahead between the two parties to keep an eye and intercept any ambushes. But the longer they walked, the more amused the Greyjoy kid seemed to be, looking back at them and joking with Stark. Not a trick then.

They were brought through the small enclosed wood in the middle of the complex to a weirwood, looking over a gently steaming pool with a sad looking face. The Stark guards stood off at a respectful distance, so Michael had the warriors he brought do the same. Except for Mance, of course. The two parties squared off in front of the Frowning Tree.

"I have decided upon an offer," Robb Stark declared, "A final offer."

"Is that why we're out here?" Zheng asked, kicking a stone into the pool with a splash.

Robb raised his head towards the branches of the weirwood tree, the red leaves shaking in the wind. "Should our proposal be accepted, I wanted to be able to take our oaths."

Michael shifted his weight, an idea growing in his head about why Lord Robb would want oaths taken immediately. He's going to present his lords with a fait accompli… Is he going to marry her right now?!

Val took a step closer to Robb. Michael did nothing to stop her. This was between her people and the Starks now. "I am willing to take the oaths," she said, "If our demands are met."

Lord Robb smiled warmly. "I've just spent a lot of time arguing over who gets to marry you, Lady Val. Though all complain that you are a wildling and without merit, many a lord believes only their son is worthy of your hand."

Val exhaled with exasperation, her breath visible in the cold of the creeping evening. "Truthfully, I am no southron lady. I do this to save my people. That hope is worth more than my discomfort. Most have no desire to face your host in battle… But the beliefs of your lords about who I should marry are meaningless. If their sons were men, they would steal me. I would welcome them with gladness, and a gelding knife."

"Some men wouldn't fear that threat," Greyjoy said haughtily, "The risk is worth the prize."

"The same men who would lament as they bled out between their legs on the snow," Val replied coolly. That threat didn't seem to deter the squidling at all, though his eyes wandered to Zheng as much as the blonde princess. Man has a deathwish.

"If it were my duty, I would gladly steal you, Lady Val," Robb said, "Or try to, I have no doubt you would give me a contest worthy of song."

Val put one hand on her dagger and another on her hip. "Then send your guards away and I will send away my companions. Steal me if you can, Lord Stark."

Greyjoy nudged him with a smile, encouraging him to do just that. Michael almost wanted to throw in his support too.

Robb shook his head, gazing at Val with a certain sadness. "I won't deny I would like that, my lady. But duty compels me to do otherwise, and being gelded would be an inconvenience to say the least."

Greyjoy and Zheng snorted out a chuckle in unison.

"It is not you I shall marry," Robb continued, "Regardless of whether or not you accept what I have come to propose, I shall marry Lady Alys Karstark of Karhold."

Val let go of her dagger and crossed her arms. "This was not what I expected, Lord Robb."

"Can't say I expected it either," Michael added, "Were your lords about to rebel unless you threw them a bone or something?"

"My vassals wanted assurances that no matter how this meeting goes, I would protect the North. To grant what I am about to offer, I had to promise myself and my brother Rickon to marry a Karstark and a Mormont. I also had to promise Lord Umber that no harm would come to you should you refuse."

Val looked back at Michael for a moment. "You may want to think first about harm coming to you, should I refuse," she said, "If I am not to marry you, then who?"

"My brother Jon."

Won't work, Michael thought immediately. Jon didn't have the political power needed to counterbalance the lords of the North. He waited for Val to dismiss the idea, but she remained silent. What is she waiting for?

Mance moved to join the circle, having been listening from a respectful distance before. "This is not a suitable arrangement," he said, "Jon Snow is lord of no land, chief of no warband. Your vassals will not hesitate to attack us."

Val looked back at Mance with annoyance. She wanted to handle it herself. Then why didn't she? "And he is a Crow, a brother of the Night's Watch?" she added, "What of his vow?"

Greyjoy's hand wandered to his sword hilt, as he noticed Mance for the first time. "Who are you?"

Mance gave a mock bow to the squidling. "I am Abel, chieftain of the Wind Singers."

More like the Smoke Blowers, Michael joked to himself, Expert at blowing it up your ass.

"What Abel says is true," Val said, "Jon cannot stop your lords from attacking us."

Robb raised his chin. "Jon is my brother. I will make him a lord, and allow him to establish a cadet house. This is not without precedent. And it's what my father should have made him from the beginning."

"And the Crows?" Mance asked.

"The lords care little for what happens to the Night's Watch now, they have failed their purpose twofold. They failed to find that the Others had returned, and they failed to stop you coming south. On the contrary, this plan has the full support of the northernmost houses even at the expense of the Watch. Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and even Lady Mormont have not only agreed to it, they will swear oaths themselves to defend it. With some conditions."

"Why would they do such a thing?" Abel asked, "They hate wildlings more than most lords, I hear. Are a few marriages all it takes to cow them?"

"No," Robb said, "Lord Umber will lead the vanguard when we march south. Lord Karstark will lead the right wing, or he will command the host that is sent against Mance if you refuse the offer of marriage. Lady Mormont will lead my personal guard. My first daughter by Alys will marry the Smalljon's heir. Lord Karstark's first granddaughter by his own heir will marry my own firstborn son. And certain arrangements have been made if the wildlings begin to fight each other."

"Arrangements that will allow your lords to steal our lands," Mance said, "I expected as much."

Robb said nothing, not denying or confirming the point.

"There are a lot of chances for your plan to break down," Michael noted aloud, "It's possible you won't have a daughter or Lord Karstark won't have a granddaughter."

"I am taking a risk," Robb agreed, "But in those cases, we can compromise. There will be children available, I am certain of it."

"It does not change the fact that Jon isn't really a lord," Michael said, "Even if the lords agree, why should the Free Folk trust their word simply because you do?"

"We're agreeing to all their other demands," Lord Robb said, "They will be an independent kingdom. They're keeping the land they stole, for now. They'll be allowed to raid in a way that does not break the peace. We will stand beside them if the Others do threaten the Wall. With so many warriors gone south, the lords' stewards will not dare provoke a response."

"Why Jon?" Mance asked, "Why your bastard brother instead of you? Could you not have offered all these marriage pacts to the lords in return for marrying Val yourself?"

Robb shook his head. "The lords would not have a wildling as Lady of Winterfell. They did not say so openly, but they kept raising concerns. Fears about wildlings being to come and go from Winterfell to visit, or free passage down the Kingsroad you might abuse to raid. They would not stop."

"Plus they heard you a rumour you called Jon a Stark," Greyjoy added, "And they know that wildlings do not restrain themselves from having bastards. So many thought if you both cared not about bastardy, then you could have the bastard of Winterfell for your marriage pact."

There's what my annoyance with Alliser Thorne has bought me, Michael frowned.

"The lords who wanted no match at all weighed heavy in the decision," Robb added, "Better a match to a cadet house spawned from a bastard, than war with both the Lannisters and the wildlings. Many feared what would happen if Lord Tywin decided to aid Mance, with arms, food and or even sellsword cavalry shipped from Casterly Rock. We have no fleet with which to stop him doing so."

Assistance by sea, Michael thought, Is that possible? He hadn't considered outside help when he had calculated what sort of war the Free Folk might fight against the Starks. It would certainly change the equation massively, particularly if weapons and armour could be sent at enough scale. "All the more reason for you to tell your lords to get on board with the original offer."

"They would not have it, Lord Duquesne," Robb said, "If I may borrow Princess Lian's words, accept it and move on."

Cheeky.

"There is another concern that I'm sure could present itself," Mance said, "How do we know Jon Snow will be granted land that is worth anything? The King and Queen would not like much to hear Val had been married off for a small farm that garners her no respect. She may have to live in your lands forever more, after all."

Robb nodded. "My father talked on occasion of making Jon a lord in the Gift, to repopulate the land in support of the Night's Watch. I would do the same. Such a fief would be a useful buffer between our peoples."

"That is not possible now," Val said, "The tribes have already divided up much of the land. The chieftains would not allow me to take more through a kneeler marriage, when Mance has already laid claim to some of the best of it."

"You'd have to clear the spearwives off of it by force," Michael thought aloud, "Good luck doing that without bloodshed."

The young lord tilted his head in thought for a moment, his mop of straight red hair falling across his eyes until he pushed it back again. "Most of the land I could offer borders lords who are deeply suspicious of the wildlings," Robb said, "The only other option is Moat Cailin. It is far in the south, perhaps too far from your kin."

Val shook her head. "We have heard of the Moat."

"An ancient First Man fortress stands there," Mance added approvingly, "And the bulwark that kept the Andals out of the North, in the time before our peoples were astranged. It is far, but it is storied too. And that is something our people can appreciate."

"Would the lords accept Jon as lord of the Moat?" Greyjoy asked, "With a wildling bride?"

"I cannot see why they would not," Robb said, "Moat Cailin is too far from the Gift to be of any assistance in an invasion from there. And no southron force could pass unnoticed by Lord Reed and his lords vassal in the Neck. Betraying us to the south would be useless. And I don't believe Jon would ever betray me."

The squidling frowned. "They'll complain they didn't get to talk about who gets it instead."

Robb grimaced. "The Moat's lands are the possession of House Stark, so there is no insult in granting them to a cadet branch. Though some marriages may need to be arranged between Jon's children and the other houses nearby. The Manderlys for certain."

"You may think too much of your lords," Mance said, "Our chieftains always find a way to complain. Even when they have no real reason to do so. From the sounds coming out of your Great Hall before, I say your lords are the same."

Robb smiled. "That may be so, but I will not allow them to dictate what House Stark does with lands it has held for thousands of years, since we defeated the Marsh Kings. The only person who might undo what I have done is my father, once we rescue him from King's Landing."

"Would he do that?" Michael asked, "Don't know about here, but if a leader went back on a treaty like that where I'm from, his reputation would be badly damaged unless there was very good reason for it."

"My father is an honourable man," Robb said, "And my word would mean much to him. I cannot guarantee he will keep it, but once he hears of these wights…"

"They do sharpen the mind as to what is important, don't they?" Mance said.

"Aye."

Mance nodded. "Val, you should take what is offered. And you do not dislike the boy."

Val clicked her tongue, and looked to Michael. "Would you agree to this?"

Michael thought about stepping back, saying it wasn't his business. But that would have been a cop out. "It seems a fair exchange, though it'll have shaky legs. There will be raiding on both sides by people who are trying to ruin it. But yes, I'd take the deal."

"Can't say it sounds bad, as long as you like Jon enough," Zheng added, before making a sharp thumbs up gesture repeatedly, "Otherwise, my advice would be to tell them to…"

"They get the picture, Corporal," Michael interrupted. Zheng balanced her rifle on her hip and laughed to herself. You enjoy being vulgar to these people far too much, Corporal.

Val turned back to Robb. "Tell Jon I will go into the Wolfswood tomorrow with five companions. He must come try to steal me. He may bring companions of his own. If he fails, then we have no marriage. If does not, we shall return and say our vows beneath this tree."

"Are you going to make it easy for him?" Greyjoy asked, "Seems unwise to leave it to Jon's prowess."

"We always give the last say to the gods in such matters," Val said, "If Jon cannot steal me, he is unworthy of me, because they have made him so."

"And Jon's prowess isn't inconsiderable," Robb said with raised eyebrows at Greyjoy, "But he is also the last person we need to convince."

"Jon doesn't know you're offering all this?" Michael asked.

Lord Robb shook his head. "No, he left the Great Hall to see Rickon before it was suggested. But Jon is my brother, and a good man. He deserves it all. Your hand, Lady Val. The lordship I shall grant him. And our father's name, in good time. I shall make him see that."

Remembering how difficult Jon Stark had been about his Crow vows when trying to get him to cooperate at Castle Black, Michael frowned to himself. It may not be that easy.

"Let's hope so."