White Harbor

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The Following TEN Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 41 (A Bear's Roar), Chapter 42 (Where it All Began), Chapter 43 (Harrenhal), Chapter 44 (A Feast and A Queen), Chapter 45 (Queen Rhaella and The Hidden Prince), Chapter 46 (My Name is Aemon Targaryen), Chapter 47 (Jenny of Old Stone), Chapter 48 (A Sister's Love), Chapter 49 (Arianne's Passion), and Chapter 50 (Trial by Combat) are already available for Patrons.

Rhaella Targaryen - Near Harrenhal

She and the entire Royal Family were making their way toward Harrenhal; their large party consisted of the Kingsguards, Servants, Soldiers, multiple carriages, and the Royal Family. Rhaella was both anxious and excited about the Tourney. The nameless had informed her how Jon Snow had been treated in general, she had wanted to know everything about him, and how his life in Winterfell had been so far was one of them, and Rhaella had wanted nothing more than to return the punishment they deserved ten fold, remind everyone what is like to hurt a dragon. Still, the many years of being Queen had taught her to have a clear head in every situation and not lose her head.

She had stopped herself from thinking of punishing the entire House Stark. Instead, she would punish only the ones guilty of stealing her grandson and those responsible for him being treated like dirt.

Rhaella didn't know for sure yet; she had received information from her man, information on what kind of boy Jon was, and everything she heard added more to her belief that Jon was her grandson that Lord Stark had stolen from them; he was apparently good at singing, sword fighting, and horse riding, he brooded quite often, and most importantly her source of information described Jon Snow as incredibly handsome, and has the looks of King Rhaegar when he was younger. Still, she wanted to see him herself; every time she thought of informing either Rhaegar or Elia, the image of them mourning for Lyanna and their child stopped her.

The last thing she wanted was to give them false hope based on words from her and the Nameless, and if, in the end, turns out she had been chasing a ghost for the past four years, then she would have done nothing but reopen old wounds that had taken almost a decade to somehow close. Queen Rhaella escaped her thoughts when the carriage stopped moving.

They were close to the bank of the Trident. The royal party had stopped moving; she could see Rhaenys and Dany talking and a squire preparing their horses; her sharp eyes went to Aegon, who was listening to something Ser Barristan was telling him. Rhaella had an idea of what her grandson was talking about with the old kingsguard. The Tourney was near, and Barristan was a well-known good jouster and fighter. He had told her before that he had wanted to win the Jousting back at Harrenhall and crown Ashara Dayne as Queen of Love and Beauty but was beaten at the last round by her son.

Her daughter-in-law seemed to be looking forward to the Tourney, saying it was about time Rhaenys found a husband, and Dany could perhaps find a betrothal.

Viserys, on the other hand, looked bored and didn't care. Rhaella mentally frowned at her youngest son, drinking a cup of wine, a whore on his lap as he was telling something to her ear. Rhaella felt a headache; she had tried everything to get him more serious and do something. Still, he refused everything, Rhaegar had offered him to become The Hand of the King, but Viserys had refused everything, saying he didn't care for any of that. Rhaella had heard him multiple times when drunk that there was only one thing he ever wanted, A Dragon. The one thing they couldn't give him.

Rhaella looked at her son, smiling with Elia. She was happy that Rhaegar and Elia had accepted the betrothal between Aegon and Margaery; with The Reach in the mix, House Targaryen was strong. The girl was beautiful, with an even more beautiful smile to add to that. Rhaella had ordered Barristan to be the one guarding her grandson whenever he spent time with Lady Margaery; she wanted to know everything that was discussed in case Lady Tyrell decided to dig her nails into her grandson.

Her eyes looked North without realizing, her mind preoccupied with Jon Snow.

Sometimes she wondered how Aemon looked like; from Nameless's words, he had long dark curly hair like a crow, with grey eyes that, according to him, were very similar to Lady Lyanna's eyes. Rhaella wanted to imagine how he looked like, but sadly she had hardly known Lyanna and never actually adequately met her, only words and rumors; they were her only source. Every time she imagined him, she pictured a young Rhaegar with dark hair.

Aegon, despite having the silver hair and purple eyes of his father with a darker shade, his face and body structure had taken after his Dornish mother.

Aegon has the face of a salty Dornishman. He is a tall, slender, graceful, and fit man sharp chin, thin eyebrows, purple eyes, and a sharp nose. Despite his dornish looks, Aegon only wore Black and Red, saying he would be a Targaryen King. He would be a dragon, not a mummer.

A part of Rhaella hoped Jaime would arrive; she wanted to measure his son, and perhaps he could be a good betrothal for Dany. She felt a shudder, remembering the last time they talked.

' She was waiting for him to enter, the door opened with a bit more strength than necessary, and Jaime stepped inside with a frown. When he turned around, his eyes widened when he saw her sitting in his chair; his body stiffened for a moment. To Rhaella, he looked like a little boy caught stealing cookies, reminding her of Joana. "Y-Your grace!" he said respectfully and quickly, bending the knee. Rhaella stood up from his chair, stepping closer.

"Rise Ser Jaime, I need to ask you something," She said kindly; Jaime stood up, a little innocent smile on his face.

"Anything, your grace!" He said right away, looking like a kid asked by his mother.

She gestured for him to sit, to be more comfortable for both of them. When they sat, Jaime offered wine, but she kindly declined.

"I wanted to ask you, Jaime. Rhaegar told me what happened, but I want to hear it from your lips. Why did he want to do it?" She asked, her tone turning blank, not allowing herself to feel any emotion whenever he was brought up in any conversation.

Jaime had a frightened look on his face for a moment as if remembering something he was afraid of, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"I don't know your grace. I don't understand; he looked happy when word came that king Rhaegar won against Robert, I was happy too, but when King Rhaegar arrived, his eyes turned white for a split second and turned back to normal; I didn't give that much attention but when father came saying he wanted entrance in the city, the old maester Pyrcell said they should open it, but the king refused immediately, and when the army of the king arrived, he wanted to burn down everything, he ordered 'Burn Them All,' over and over." Jaime stopped talking when Rhaella touched his shoulder, his eyes filled with unshed tears. She made him look at her eyes before speaking with her motherly voice.

"You did the right thing, and whoever tells you otherwise is a fool. They might call you names, but always remember that you're the bravest Kingsguard to have ever existed, even better than Ryam Redwyne," she said with sincerity; Jaime looked happy at the praise, especially comparing him to perhaps the most famous Kingsguard in history. Rhaella hoped her words were making him feel better.

"T-Thank You, your grace, this means a lot coming from you," Jaime thanked with all his heart, tears rolling down his cheeks; he looked down quickly, wiping away the tears, looking like a child who didn't want to be caught crying.

"I should leave now," she said, standing up, reaching the door, and stopping when Jaime spoke.

"Thank You, your grace, for everything," Jaime said with the brightest smile since he had become a Kingsguard. '

Rhaella slowly walked over to her son, Arthur, who was talking about something with him and noticed her first. "Your grace," he addressed her respectfully.

"Ser Arthur. I hope this place is not making you uncomfortable?" She questioned; there were very near the battle where it was decided the fate of House Targaryen, one needed to travel one mile south to reach the Field; despite being over a decade, one could still see the wounds of the war upon the land, whatever that was bones, clothes, weapons, and even armor still not found.

"No, your grace, I fought many battles around Westeros. If I allowed ghosts to bother me, I would have given up being a Knight a long time ago," Ser Arthur replied, his eyes looking in the direction of the Trident. Rhaella noticed Viserys's handmaiden rushing towards his tent with a bottle of Dornish wine in her right hand and a cup in her left.

Rhaella felt a sour taste in her mouth; it seemed one cup wasn't enough. She dismissed the thought, for now, her head turning to face her son, who had a gloomy look on his face, full of thoughts; grabbing his shoulder, he escaped his deep thoughts, looking back at her now.

"Rhaegar, can we talk alone?" Rhaella asked sharply; her son raised an eyebrow before following her behind; Arthur was far enough not to hear their conversation.

"What is that you wanted to talk about?" Rhaegar asked, looking at her after walking far enough from the royal party.

"I want to know your thoughts on Tully's proposal?" She questioned, her voice serious and firm. Two days ago, they received a letter from House Tully, almost demanding that either Princess Rhaenys or Princess Daenerys married their firstborn Joffrey Tully, saying it had been a long time, and the Realm needed to be united!

While Rhaella understood that Lord Tully had the right to ask for a betrothal, Lord Tywin had sent one letter wanting Princess Rhaenys to meet his grandson Loren Lannister, the Future lord of Castely Rock. Rhaella would never give Tywin two royal betrothals; no one would have that.

"I will not marry my daughter or sister to someone like Joffrey. I don't care that he's Tywin's grandson. We don't need Tully's help; we have The Reach in our hands. The kingdom with the most amount of food and the second richest kingdom." Rhaegar explained with a grunt at the end.

"Then we should consider A betrothal with Loren Lannister; by binding our house with House Lannister. Tywin won't think of anything when his grandson is tied to the Royal Family. We have strength, but we need allies whenever the war comes. We will kill two birds with one stone." Rhaella suggested with a sharp tone, her eyes looking at the vast green fields in front of her; far away was where the Battle of The Trident had happened, and she could almost see a spear lying on the tall grass. Her eyes turn North, a part of her knowing what could happen if it turned out to be true; the North won't be happy that their Lord was Executed.

Rhaegar sighed deeply, he wanted his sister and daughter to marry whoever they loved, but he understood the importance of alliances, the importance of having the realm united into one. His mother made a good point; the only one left would be the Iron Islands, but they were no threat to anyone, especially after the rebellion that destroyed almost all of their ships. Rhaegar hoped either his daughter or sister would take a liking to Loren Lannister; it would make things easier.

"You're right, mother. I will talk to Rhaenys; she's eighteen name days; it is about time she got betrothed," Rhaegar said, knowing his daughter would hate him for it, but sometimes sacrifices were needed for the good of the realm. Rhaegar wanted his children to be better than him, and he won the rebellion but at what cost?

Rhaegar Targaryen chose Lyanna Stark, and the realm bled for it.

Rhaegar closed his eyes tightly, almost to the point that it was hurting; he could see himself sitting on the iron throne, a sea of blood and bones as far as the eye could see, arms reaching for him, voices of despair, sadness, anger, and hatred. All of them called him for what he really was, A king that made the realm bleed.

Kings Landing called him Rhaegar The Just, yet, he felt he was no different compared to Viserys Targaryen, whose foolish decisions started the Dance of The Dragons, and Aegon The Unworthy, the king responsible for all five Blackfyre Rebellions.

And in the end, it is me, the man who almost destroyed House Targaryen because of a foolish prophecy, Rhaegar thought with shame, opening his eyes to look at the Trident.

They soon returned to the royal party, and Aegon was still talking with Ser Barristan. Seeing his son made Rhaegar smile; his son wouldn't make the same mistake he did. He would become a King that would make him proud.

Rhaenys Targaryen

After deciding to ride with Dany, they reached the place where it had happened, where her father had won the war, where Arthur Dayne slew Robert Baratheon. She could still see daggers and even swords lying on the grass, full of rust, giving it a brown color.

Her purple eyes turned to the castle far away on the horizon. One of the largest structures in Westeros. She wanted to participate in the jousting, but her mother told her that she wasn't good at jousting. Aegon would enter both Jousting and Meele in hopes of earning glory, saying he would crown Margaery Tyrell as The Queen of Love and Beauty in front of the whole realm to show that he was a good warrior just like his father. Many lords would follow a strong warrior. Rhaenys thought her brother was too naive sometimes for someone who read books and tried to become the perfect prince; sometimes, he acted as if things would happen a certain way no matter what.

Viserys, on the other hand, was no warrior and didn't care to become one.

Uncle Oberyn had said he would be in the tourney and crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. Rhaenys had appreciated his gesture, but she knew who would name her Queen of Love and Beauty; she had dreamed of him last night, he would hold her close, and she could feel it in her bones; her Valonqar would soon reunite with her. She would show him just how much she missed and loved him. She escaped her thoughts when she heard a small whimper.

"Dany, what are you doing?" Rhaenys asked, seeing her aunt reaching the bank of the river, the water almost touching her feet. For a minute, her aunt was silent, instead looking around the river and the large green fields beyond the Trident.

"I saw it here, Rhaenys. Where is he?" She questioned, looking around as if searching for something or someone.

Rhaenys didn't know what her aunt was talking about. "Who is he?" She questioned, reaching her, her uncle standing just ten meters away to give them enough privacy. A gentle breeze passed around them; Rhaenys felt her long hair dancing with the wind, her hand moving a strand of hair that fell in front of her face.

"The Dragon, Rhaenys. I saw him; he was calling me," Dany said with clear sadness.

Rhaenys walked up to her aunt, her arms going around her waist; Dany rested her head against her shoulder, humming as she did.

"Dany, there are no dragons in the trident. The rumors said he was seen in the North," Rhaenys said, her hand caressing her beautiful silver hair. Her aunt was a rare Valyrian Beauty, one that could take the breath away of anyone.

Daenerys had the Valyrian look; She had violet eyes, pale skin, and long, pale silver-gold hair. Daenerys is slender in frame, with small breasts. Rhaenys remembered her grandmother always saying that Dany took after Queen Naerys Targaryen.

"I saw him, niece; he was as black as night, with rich green eyes like Wildfire," Dany explained with a sad smile, her right arm around her niece, keeping her close; she felt good whenever Rhaenys kept her close like this. They were dragons. They were above gods and men.

"Hmmm, maybe you did, this White Dragon; perhaps there's another out there just waiting for you, my aunt," She hummed, her voice husky in Dany's left ear; Dany closed her eyes at the feeling of her breath hitting her skin, a good shiver went through her body, her niece's hands around her naked waist, a part of her wishing her hands would slide down...

"Perhaps, I saw him, as beautiful as Dreamfyre and as majestic as Balerion the Black Dread," Dany spoke with a low husky tone, her right hand touching the skin of her niece; if they were alone, she wouldn't mind getting to know her niece a little better, perhaps she could one night join Rhaenys and Princess Arianne, just like in her dreams.

Dany had dreamed of her being in bed with Rhaenys and Arianne, but also with someone she didn't recognize, but she remembered his grey eyes looking back at her. His tongue between her thighs, making her scream. Dany escaped her erotic thoughts when Rhaenys pinched her waist.

"Where were you?" She asked with a giggle. Dany rolled her eyes at her playful voice.

"Why do you think my brother is having this tourney?" Dany asked with a hint of annoyance, completely ignoring her question.

"Arianne said that is to announce Aegon's betrothal to the greedy witch and find proper husbands for us," she said with a grunt. Unlike her, Dany didn't mind marrying someone as long as she loved whoever she would marry.

"Perhaps, they said Loren Lannister is quite a boy. They say he has taken after his father," Dany said, stepping away from Rhaenys, who was keeping her hair from falling in front of her face.

"Mayhaps, but there's only one for me," Rhaenys murmured under her breath; she had told only her mother and Arianne about her dreams.

After an hour of walking around the Trident, Rhaenys and Dany returned to the royal party.

They returned and saw Egg training with Ser Barristan, and her parents were watching Egg dodge a swing. After five minutes of dodging and parrying with his shield.

The sword fell to the ground, and Egg had his hands up in surrender.

"Very good, your grace, but you should watch your left footing," Ser Barristan advised. Her brother nodded with a serious look on his face.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan." He said, grabbing his sword from the ground before sheathing it. Rhaenys could see her brother was not satisfied with the fight's result.

She just hoped his desire to prove his worth in the Tourney in front of the Whole Realm would not backfire in any way.

Jon

They had been traveling for a week now, and the moist air around them was making Val quite uncomfortable; by the second day of their travel, she had been forced to change her clothes, saying it was getting warmer each day. Now, they were riding to White Harbour; riders from House Manderly had been sent to lead them inside. Jon had almost laughed when Val had seen the castle from afar.

"You kneelers know how to build great castles, but this still doesn't compare to The Wall,"

White Harbor is a harbor city in the north that contains the New Castle, the seat of House Manderly. Located southeast of Winterfell, it is the largest settlement north of the Neck but the smallest among the five major cities of Westeros. White Harbor is the north's primary trade port. Its location on the mouth of the White Knife provides opportunities for trade further north.

Due to its location, White Harbor has more contact with the south, and there are more knights and followers of the Faith of the Seven in White Harbor than anywhere else in the north. There are some followers of the old gods, but most follow the Faith. The city has access to good fishing grounds and is also the home of many silversmiths.

Reaching the gates of the castle, the walls were thick and tall, but Jon thought that Winterfell was still a more impressive castle.

Once the gates opened, they entered the city. It was clean and well-ordered, with wide straight cobbled streets that made it easy to walk around. The houses are built of whitewashed stone, with steeply-pitched roofs of dark grey slate, and in the center of the city was Old Fishfoot. A statue built a long time ago of a man with the legs of a fish holding a trident in his right hand. It was said that when House Manderly first settled on White Harbour, they built the statue in honor of a powerful warrior whose name history didn't remember.

Val was trying very hard not to act surprised but was failing; everything she saw was something she had wanted to see, great castles, a part of her wondered how they could keep order in such a large city. Her eyes moved to the New Castle, as Jon called it.

The New Castle is the seat of House Manderly. It is located on a hill inside the city wall, and a broad white stone way of Castle Stair leads to its gates from the Wolf's Den below. There is a secret passage beneath the Castle Stair connecting it to the Wolf's Den.

Soon they entered, and Val noticed different flags other than the mermaid of House Manderly. She saw a Bear in a green field. Two axes crossing each other in front of a yellow field. A closed fist in front of a red field. A white star in front of a black field. A lizard chasing his own tail. A man screaming in front of a red field, Val saw many other flags, but the one that took her attention was a flag that had a red-flayed man on pale pink strewn with red drops.

Jon had warned her about them, but the wildling woman wasn't afraid. Beyond the Wall, flaying wasn't something they could do even if they tried; the harsh and cold weather would kill the men. Val thought that Thenn Tribe and them would get along.

Val was riding alongside Jon when the gates that lead inside the castle opened; entering the courtyard, they were met by who Val thought must be the entire House Manderly.

Her eyes looked for any sign of danger, her hand grasping the hidden dagger in her clothes; they all wore similar clothes. Still, when her eyes landed on the man who was standing in front of the line, the one in charge of the place, her eyes twitched in disgust; the man was easily the fattest man she had ever seen; he looked as if his belly would suddenly burst out, she wondered how his clothes were keeping his belly inside.

Wyman Manderly is nearly sixty years old, with a massive belly and fingers the size of sausages. Lord Manderly has pale blue eyes and a beard. He appears to have four chins. Wyman is so fat he can no longer ride a horse and must be carried in a litter, leading to the nickname Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse.

"Is he sick?" Val asked Jon beside him in a hushed tone.

"No, he's simply fat. I have heard of his appearance, but I never thought it was to this level," Jon explained to her; unlike her, he wasn't disgusted by the appearance of the lord. He simply shrugged it off.

"How can he expect to lead his people to battle if he can't even ride a Horse?" Val questioned, still keeping her voice low, alone riding a horse; how could the man even fight in that condition? Why would anyone ever follow him if he couldn't fight for his people?

She didn't know these people; Jon was the only one she fully trusted, and House Stark to an extent. Despite knowing him only for a short time, Val could see why Eddard Stark was respected by his people, and he was a man who had fought battles, which made her wonder how could a man like him steal Jon away from his family.

"Unlike North of the Wall, there hasn't been any war since the Robert's Rebellion and Greyjoy Rebellion. South of the Wall, people of the North respect strength and wisdom; Lord Manderly might not be soldier material, but don't underestimate his skills for Trading and leading his city without using a sword." Jon explained, his eyes watching as Lord Stark approached Wyman, both of them sharing a laugh before hugging each other.

Jon walked behind, Val holding his arm as they approached the line of House Manderly.

"How long it been, Ned? Eight years!" the man said with a booming voice; that reminded Val of Tormund; their voices were similar.

"Eight years, my lord," Ned said with a beaming smile before greeting his sons; Wyman had been a widower for the past eight years. Then greeting his granddaughter, Wylla Manderly.

Wylla has blond hair, longer than her sister Wynafryd's. She dyes it a garish green and wears it in a braid but leaves her eyebrows blond.

"Welcome to White Harbor, my lord," she spoke with a sweet voice like honey.

Ned offered her a smile before greeting his future daughter-in-law. "My Lady, you have grown even more beautiful," he greeted her.

Wynafryd has brown hair bound in a long braid though shorter than her sister Wylla's.

"Thank you, my lord," she spoke with a light blush on her cheeks, her eyes mainly on Robb, who was looking back at her with a smile.

Catelyn greeted Lord Manderly; soon, she approached the girl that would marry her son. "My lady, the years had been good on you. My son is a lucky man," Catelyn said softly. The lady smiled brightly at the praise, feeling relieved that Robb's parents approved of her, they were betrothed, but she was happy that Lord and Lady Stark were pleased.

Soon Robb greeted his future lady wife. "My lady, you have grown even more beautiful," Robb said sweetly, kissing her knuckles; the lady blushed madly, her eyes almost sparking like stars.

"You're quite handsome, my lord," she whispered sweetly. She wanted to call him by his name, but she wanted to when they got to know each other better.

Jon was happy that his brother seemed pleased; soon, Lord Wyman led them all inside. Chambers were prepared for all of them; Jon didn't miss the glances toward Val as they walked through the corridors. Many soldiers were taken aback by Val and her blonde hair; none of the Northern families had blonde hair.

Once they entered their bedchambers, the servant informed them that a bath had been prepared for him. It seemed they hadn't known that Jon had been married; despite being a bastard to their knowledge, Jon had to admit the bed chamber was quite fancy. The servant offered to help them bathe; Jon almost laughed at how Val looked at the girl, completely bewildered. Jon quickly dismissed her, saying she wasn't needed, fearing that Val might say something to the servant who was simply doing her job.

Once the servant left, Val turned to her husband with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't know it was common in the South for girls to throw themselves like this, or is it just you?" Val asked with an amused tone, her hands quickly removing his belt.

"No, I don't think it is normal, the servants are hired to do chores, but no bath you," Jon replied; Val quickly removed his pants, her hand gripping his thick cock, rubbing it.

"Val!" Jon moaned when she kissed his lips with pure lust, looking back at her eyes, full of love and passion.

"You're mine, Jon, and I'm yours," Val declared; Jon felt his blood pumping faster, his heart pounding in his throat. Before he knew it, they were in the bath, as naked as the day they were born. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was the only sound heard for the following two hours.

Later

After wearing proper clothes, Val wore a white gown, her hair turned into a golden braid, and her blue eyes stunning and mesmerizing. Jon was wearing all black, which brought up his handsome face, and his grey eyes.

Once the feast started, they walked together with the rest of House Stark to the Hall of House Manderly. Arya was wearing a green dress and looked miserable, but Jon wasn't sure if it was because of not having Needle or the dress.

Robb was accompanied by his betrothal, both talking to each other; Jon saw his brother saying something to her ear, making the girl giggle with a light blush on her cheeks.

Bran, despite his age, was accompanying Lady Wylla, who was talking with Sansa. The latter was wearing a blue gown. Soon they reached the hall of the Castle.

Merman's Court is the great hall of the New Castle where Lord Manderly holds court and feasts. Its walls, floor, and ceiling are made of wooden planks notched cunningly together and decorated with all the creatures of the sea.

The entire hall stood up in silence when they walked in; Jon and Val noticed many people were looking stunned at the Direwolves walking beside them, especially Ghost, who was more significant than a Horse at this point. The lords were looking at Robb, almost evaluating him. Robb held his head high, trying to look as serious as possible.

Val noticed many giving her looks, not that she cared about that, her left arm around Jon's arm and her right hand near the dagger.

Despite his bastard status, Wyman had insisted on him having a seat on the high table; Once Lord Stark sat down, so did everyone else except Lord Manderly, who cleared his throat.

"My lord and ladies, we are to welcome House Stark. Two days later. We all will leave for Harrenhall to show the South what we all are made of," his booming voice was quickly followed by, 'Aye.' Almost all the lords slapped the table with their hands.

"But tonight, I wanted to announce amazing news; House Stark will bind with my house. The betrothal between my daughter Wynafryd Manderly and Lord Robb Stark," he finished with a booming voice that echoed throughout the entire hall, almost making the roof shake, and quickly followed by cheers from almost every Lord present.

Ned's eyes scanned the hall for anyone who was displeased by the news; he could tell a few weren't, but mostly because they had their own daughters who they wanted to marry with Robb. Lord Bolton's face was as blank as a tombstone, his thin lips pressed into a very thin line, almost disappearing; beside him was his heir Domeric Bolton, but the majority were happy. Ned had known that his lords weren't pleased with him marrying Catelyn.

The North knew House Manderly, and Lady Wynafryd was a Northern Girl who followed the old gods; Ned couldn't hope for a better bride; he could only pray that his son would grow to love her because it seemed the girl was already in love, and hoping his son wouldn't do something foolish.

Beers, wine, and food everywhere followed the announcement. Val thought she had gotten used to feasts back in Winterfell, but this was a massive feast. The food was everywhere; her hands quickly grabbed a piece of chicken and ate it with her hands. Her eyes quickly noticed that one woman was looking at Jon.

Val quickly noticed that, unlike Wynafryd, she looked to have strength in her arms and shoulder, the same for the other women sitting beside her.

"Jon, who is the woman looking at you?" Val questioned, nudging his shoulder; Jon looked where she gestured, only to see Lady Maege and Lady Dacey.

"They're from House Mormont, the house that trains men and women," Jon spoke to her ear. Val was intrigued to hear that; perhaps she could talk with them later.

Soon people started dancing, and Jon offered for Val to dance together. The wildling woman knew she had no idea how to dance but followed him. Walking in the middle of the hall, she felt the eyes of many on them.

"Just follow my lead," Jon whispered reassuringly, his left hand holding her right hand and his right arm around her waist. Val smiled; her legs and arms followed his lead, almost stepping on his foot several times. A part of her wished that her sister had been here with her. Soon you will be safe, and your child won't die, Val thought with resolve, her pale blue eyes looking at his captivating grey ones.

Lady Maege, watching Jon dance, nudged her daughter in the arm. "After Jon dances with his wife. I want you to dance with him; tell him I want to talk with him in the God's Wood," Maege ordered her daughter firmly. Her daughter looked more than willing to follow this order.