"You should make him your mate soon," Alexstrasza's voice rang out with the calm authority that came with her ancient, regal bearing, her eyes glinting with the weight of her words. She stood just outside the training grounds, her silhouette framed by the dimming light of the early evening.
Val, the spear-wife, didn't so much as flinch, her focus entirely on the practice before her. The sharp, steady rhythm of her movements sliced through the air as she performed a series of fluid, deadly maneuvers. Her spear cut through the frozen air with precision, each thrust and parry forming a perfect dance of power and grace. She spun on her heels, pivoting into a low sweep, the tip of her weapon brushing the ground before she swung it upward again in a clean arc.
Alexstrasza's gaze followed every movement, but the blonde warrior gave no sign of having heard her.
"Both because you love him and because we need it," the Mother of Dragons continued, unperturbed by the silence, her voice steady like a current flowing through the stone beneath their feet. "Freyja and I... we need his seed to replenish our magic, but he won't give it to us. Not when he believes the gods are fabricating his feelings for us."
Val ignored her again, but this time, there was the faintest flicker in her eyes—something that hinted at internal struggle. Her spear arced outward in another fluid strike, thrusting forward in an almost unnoticeable change of direction, her body twisting with effortless precision. She felt the rhythm of the spear as if it were a part of her, the weapon an extension of her will. It was second nature to her, a part of who she was.
Alexstrasza said nothing more, letting the silence hang between them for a moment before continuing in a softer tone.
"He's... correct in part. The feelings he has for you, however, are his own and true."
Val's spear whistled through the air as she shifted her grip, bringing the weapon up to deflect an imaginary blow before spinning it around to strike downward with a force that left no room for hesitation. She moved like a tempest, wild and free, but with deadly control.
Alexstrasza's gaze softened, as if she understood the complexities of the girl's silence. At that, Freyja, who had been standing by Alexstrasza's side in the gathering twilight, spoke up plainly, her voice like the steady rumble of an incoming storm.
"We are honest. You and he may not... be together after the defeat of the Others. He's needed South. Among the kneelers. To rule. You could go with him, but you will be unhappy there. You may be... his only chance to know real love. To give him a bit of happiness that he probably never knew otherwise. Real love. Not for being a prince or a king. Not for being the gods' champion. But for being himself."
Val's movements slowed at Freyja's words, but she did not stop. The spear twirled once in her hand, its point tapping against the snow-covered ground in a rhythmic beat. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths, the sharp exhale breaking the air around her. For a moment, she stood still, her body grounded, feeling the weight of both the weapon in her hands and the weight of the words spoken by the two powerful women who stood beside her.
It had been only a few moons since she had met Rick, but it felt as though she had known him much longer. There was something about him, something in the way he carried himself, something in the strength he exuded—not just of body but of heart. There was a fire in him, a determination that burned brightly in every word, every action.
Rick had everything she admired in a man. His strength. His confidence. His wisdom that belied his years. The way he saw a task through to the end, never wavering, no matter the difficulty. He understood the value of silence, of not needing to speak when words were not necessary. But there was more to it than that. He was handsome, undeniably so, and there was a rawness to him that drew her in. The way his body had looked when Alexstrasza had burned his clothes away—it had been mesmerizing, more than she'd ever expected to be captivated by someone so openly.
And then there was the rest of him. The parts of him that made her pulse quicken, the parts of him that called to her primal instincts. She had wanted to ride that fat thick cock the moment her eyes led on it. Even Ygritte had said as such while they shared a room on the ship, even though she was more interested in Sigorn.
But Rick had more than that. He had duty. A duty to the South. A duty that would separate them. That duty would take him away from her, somewhere she did not want to follow, a place where people like her—people who weren't noble or blooded—would never belong. She had heard the stories of the South, of the politics and the power games, and she had no desire to be part of it. She wasn't interested in kneeling before a king or being shackled by those city walls. Even if he was the king.
Her mother's warnings echoed in her mind—warnings about the dangers of following Rick, of going with him to the South. It was a place where she wouldn't be accepted, where their bond would be broken by forces far stronger than either of them. She could feel the weight of that truth pressing down on her, but the idea of being apart from him, of never knowing what could have been, made her heart ache.
The Mothers' request didn't make things easier. They were right, of course. Rick was their champion, and they needed him in more ways than one. But she couldn't help feeling like it was a selfish request. A request that, in the end, would only serve to push her into something she wasn't sure she was ready for. To give herself to him, to offer her love and trust completely—without any guarantee of what would come after—that was a heavy price.
But then again... She loved him. Truly loved him. More than she had ever loved any other man. She had met others, boys and men alike, but none of them came close to what Rick was. None had the strength, the resolve, the fire. None had his heart. He was everything she could have hoped for in a husband. The thought of being with anyone else, anyone lesser than him, seemed impossible. There would be no one else like him. She knew that deep down.
She was torn.
If she gave in to the Mothers' request, would she be making the right choice? Would she be taking a chance on the only love she had ever truly known? Or would she be forever haunted by the idea of doing nothing, of never knowing what could have been?
Could she live with the knowledge of being his but without him? Like a widow? Or a wife abandoned by her husband? While in the meantime, he'd marry someone else? Fuck some whore, while she's alone in the North?
That he would sleep with another woman didn't please her but she had made her peace with it. After all the Mothers were meant to mate with him. What she couldn't make peace of was if she loved another woman. That thought enraged her like nothing else ever did. She couldn't stand it.
The thought of Rick sleeping with another woman didn't sit well with her. It gnawed at her, twisted her insides, and left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet, she had tried to make her peace with it. After all, the Mothers had their own reasons for wanting him. They had made their claims on him long before she even had a chance to. He was theirs. She understood the necessity of it—of his role in their grand designs. The logic of it was undeniable, even if her heart rebelled against it.
But there was something she couldn't reconcile. Something that churned deep within her. The thought of Rick sharing himself with another woman—that was something she could bear. She could accept it, even if it stung. But the idea that he could love another woman, that thought... that thought enraged her like nothing else ever had. It was a searing, unrelenting fury that burned in her chest. It wasn't jealousy in the usual sense. It wasn't possessiveness, though there was some of that. It was the crushing realization that, despite everything she had felt for him, despite the bond that had been growing between them, she wasn't the only one who had a claim on him. And worse still, the idea that he could care for someone else—someone who wasn't her—tore at something deep inside of her, something primal and fierce.
She couldn't stand it. The mere thought of it sent her mind spiraling, clouding her judgment. The very idea of Rick loving someone else... it felt like a betrayal, a wound she couldn't heal. It was as if the universe had taken the one thing she had ever truly desired, the one person who had captured her heart, and twisted it out of her reach. And that feeling, that burning ache, made her question everything she thought she knew about herself, about love, and about the world she lived in. She couldn't make peace with it. She didn't want to.
"Make him yours," Alexstrasza's voice cut through the haze of Val's thoughts, pulling her back to the present. The words hung in the air, heavy and potent. She blinked, as if awakening from a deep reverie, and her gaze met the Mother of Dragons' piercing eyes.
"Your thoughts and feelings are plain to see on your face, child," Freyja's voice followed, softer but no less profound. Her gaze was steady, watching Val with an intensity that felt like she could see through her, reading her every flicker of emotion.
Val's heart stuttered in her chest, but she didn't break her gaze. Her feelings had always been laid bare before them, and she had never been able to hide them—least of all now. She knew they saw her turmoil, her struggle, and the fierce, undeniable love that burned in her heart for Rick. She was no stranger to the look of understanding in their eyes.
"Make him yours. Completely. So, forty years from now, he still craves you. Craves your love," Alexstrasza's voice carried a note of finality, an almost regal command that held both power and an ancient wisdom. She spoke as though she already knew the outcome of this moment, as though it was inevitable.
Val swallowed hard, her chest tight with emotion. The idea of owning Rick's heart—of being the one to give him love when he had known nothing but neglect and rejection—was a burden and a gift she was unsure she was ready to accept. But the thought of him—her heart clenched painfully—craving her love, even decades from now, stirred something deep inside her. It felt like a promise, a challenge, and a possibility all rolled into one.
Freyja's voice was softer, but no less powerful as she added, "He knows not of love. But the first that will give it to him will forever own his heart. He's that starved for it."
Her words resonated through Val's soul.
"Do it, Val," Freyja added, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Claim him, not just for the time you have, but for the years that will come. Make him remember you. Own his heart forever, even if he never returns. Make sure that he knows what true love is, even if it means never seeing him again. You may not walk beside him, but you will live within him."
The Mother of the North's words were right. If she did nothing, she would regret it. And if she claimed him, she would be part of him forever, even if they were never together again. The idea settled deep into her chest—an ache and a longing, but also a sense of determination.
Rick might leave. He might never return to the North, but she could be the one to claim him, to make him hers in a way that no one else ever would.
She didn't know what the future would hold, or how long their love would last, but for the rest of his days, he would know her love and she would own his—whether they were together or not.
Val said nothing, her mind swirling with the weight of everything Alexstrasza and Freyja had said. She left the conversation behind and made her way back to Hardhome, the sun sinking beneath the horizon. The cold, fading light mirrored the growing uncertainty inside her, but one thing was clear: she had already made her choice. It wasn't about whether she would claim Rick—it was about how she would do it. That's what she needed to figure out now.
The path back was quiet, and Val sought the solitude of the docks when she arrived, staring out over the darkening waters. The sound of the waves crashing against the pier offered a kind of comfort, though it was a cold one. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, as if mocking her confusion with its vastness. She needed something to hold onto, an answer, some sign that would guide her in the right direction.
Exhausted by the weight of it all, Val finally stood, her resolve sharpening. She didn't have to figure everything out tonight. She didn't even have to know exactly how she would act—only that she would. One way or another, she would make Rick hers. She could feel it in her bones.
Val returned to her quarters, the silence inside the stone walls oddly comforting. She hadn't seen Rick since he left for Castle Black days earlier, but she assumed he was still occupied with his work. She felt a slight twinge of surprise when she noticed him walking toward the forge. Had he returned not long ago? She hadn't realized he was back, and the thought sent a strange fluttering sensation through her chest.
No more thinking. No more waiting. Val went to her room, closing the door behind her. The time for indecision was over.
She began with her hair, combing through the strands with careful attention, redoing her long braid until it was as perfect as it ever could be. She knew the ritual of preparing herself well—this wasn't something to be rushed or taken lightly. With a warm, damp cloth, she cleaned her skin, taking care to freshen herself after the long day's trials. As she dressed, she pulled on her fur coat, the heavy, comforting weight of it settling around her shoulders, a shield against the cold night air.
She was ready now, but her heart was still racing in her chest, the anticipation mixing with nerves. Val moved with quiet steps toward the forge, the scent of burning wood and iron hanging in the air as she approached. She had no idea what he might be doing in there—whether he was awake or not—but she didn't care. This would happen. She would make it happen.
When she slipped into the dim glow of the forge, the warmth from the flames seemed to swallow her whole, but she didn't hesitate. She could barely hear Rick's breathing over the sound of the fire crackling, but she knew he was there, sprawled out, probably resting after a long day. Without another thought, she disrobed quietly, her clothes pooling on the floor as she moved closer.
She straddled him, feeling the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath on her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest.
As he stirred, awakening, she moved swiftly, a knife in her hand, its cold edge pressing against his throat. She could feel his body freeze beneath her, his eyes snapping open in surprise, and her pulse quickened.
"Va—" Rick's voice was a rasp, the word barely escaping his lips as Val's grip tightened around the knife's hilt.
Without missing a beat, Val pressed the blade harder against his neck, its cold edge biting into the flesh. His words died in his throat, the weight of her presence and the razor-sharp steel silencing him.
"I'm stealing you tonight," Val's voice was calm, but there was a dangerous fire in it, like the storm before a war. Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, the world outside the forge seemed to disappear. "You will be my husband, Rick. I will be your wife from now on. No one else. Not now, not ever."
Rick's chest tightened, and he tried to speak again, his breath shallow. "Val, I..." His voice faltered as the cold steel bit deeper, his body instinctively tensing beneath her.
Val didn't give him the chance to finish. She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing his ear, her voice a hushed, determined whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. "I know," she murmured, the words coming slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit them. "I know that one day, you will leave me. You will go south, where I can't follow. But that's not what matters. Not anymore."
Her grip on the knife loosened just enough to give him a moment to breathe, but she didn't pull it away. Instead, she traced the blade down the side of his throat, the coldness of it contrasting sharply with the heat radiating between them.
"You can fuck any whore you want, spill your seed in any cunt you choose," she continued, her voice growing darker, more intense. "But you will never love them. I will not allow it." Her eyes flickered with something fierce, something possessive. "Your heart is mine. And your love is mine. Mine, Rick. Mine alone. Forever."
The air between them felt charged now, heavy with the weight of her words. Val's body pressed closer to his, her breath hot against his skin as she held the knife steady. She wasn't just speaking to him; she was marking him, claiming him in a way that went beyond the physical.
Rick, breathless and overwhelmed, could feel the heat of her resolve against his chest. He knew, deep down, that there was no escaping her. Not tonight. Not ever.
And he didn't want to.
"Yours. Forever."
Val heard his words, each syllable sharp and resolute, like the clang of steel against stone. She heard the finality in them—the unspoken oath buried beneath the rawness of his voice. It was the kind of promise that reverberated in the very core of her being, filling the spaces between them with a weight that she couldn't ignore. Her heart, which had once felt uncertain and torn, now surged with an overwhelming joy. It beat faster, louder, as though the mere sound of his voice had unlocked something deep inside her.
For the first time in a long while, Val felt complete, as if a puzzle piece she hadn't known was missing had suddenly slid into place. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and now that it had arrived, there was no turning back. There was no more need for words, no more need for explanation. Rick had given her what she wanted—his heart, his love—and that was all she needed.
Her pulse raced as she looked down at him, her breath shallow, her skin tingling with anticipation. There was no hesitation now. There was only him, and there was only her.
The first step, she thought, was simple. She had already claimed him with her words. Now, she would claim him with her touch. Slowly, deliberately, Val leaned down, her hair falling around them like a silken curtain. She could feel the heat of his body beneath hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest. She could hear the thumping of his heart, echoing in sync with hers, as if their souls had become intertwined in that single, unspoken moment.
Without giving herself the chance to second-guess, Val closed the space between them. She pressed her lips to his, soft at first, a lingering brush of warmth and desire. And then, with a deep breath, she deepened the kiss, her mouth claiming his with a fierce tenderness that mirrored the intensity of everything she was feeling. It was not just a kiss—it was a promise, a declaration of ownership, of love, of everything they were meant to be.
She felt him respond, his hands instinctively reaching for her, pulling her closer, but Val was the one in control now. She held him, claimed him, and in that moment, she knew there was no going back. The world around them faded, leaving only the undeniable connection between them, a connection that would last long after the night ended.