Chapter Text
The sound of the horn had broken up the feast. Now people are dripping back into the hall, but the celebration has fizzled out. Men are huddled in small groups, talking, and musicians have abandoned their instruments in favor of tankards. Alys had followed the group outside, too. Now she stands in the doorway, weary and unsure what to do. Should she return to the table? Jon has disappeared into his chambers with Tormund, and she has no-one to talk to. Feeling oddly vulnerable, her eyes search the crowd for any familiar face when she feels a hand on her shoulder. For a second, she expects Jon, but turning around, she sees the Magnar beside her. The man surveys the hall for a moment, and when he looks at her, they seem to have come to the same conclusion.
“Looks like this feast is over. “ He nods in agreement.
“Do you want to go back there, or” she feels a blush rising to her cheeks, “perhaps you’d like to come to my bedchamber instead?” She yearns to disappear before anyone thinks of a public bedding.
“Not back there.” He smiles, but Alys senses he is more nervous than he lets on.
“Well, follow me then.” She gives him her hand, and they make their way across the courtyard. The snowstorm shows no signs of letting up. If her mother was right, this marriage will be not so much cold as freezing. Just this moment, however, his hand in hers feels warm and oddly comforting. Hardly anyone is outside, but she catches a glimpse of the Magnar’s brother, standing in the shadow of a doorway with a woman. He hollers at them in the Old Tongue, laughing, and the Magnar’s answer sounds very much like a suggestion to mind his own business. She stifles a giggle.
It was only at the feast that she realized that in addition to a new husband, she was now in possession of in-laws, most of whom probably didn’t understand a single word she spoke.
“This my brother. Emund.” Emund was a shorter, softer version of the Magnar with a full head of curly hair. He was settled comfortably with a beer stein in his hand and a plate full of venison, and didn’t bother to rise to greet Alys, instead just grinning merrily and bowing his head. He gave Alys a look which seemed to take a quick measure of her womanly endowments, and she felt her husband’s hold on her arm tighten. Clearly this brother had always been the one to charm the girls. Well, she had made her choice, and to reassure him, she gave the Magnar a brilliant smile, and was pleased to see him momentarily flustered. Emund’s eyes strayed to the floor, and seeing the queen’s ladies twirling, flushed with the dancing and the warmth, she understood why. The ladies were well out of his reach, though some seemed very curious about these wildlings, glancing at Emund whose attention was diverted by a serving girl. When she passed them by, he was quick to give her bottom a good squeeze, and Alys saw the Magnar frown.
Alys saves a thought for his uncle. Whatever happens next, it cannot be more horrifying than suffering his touch would have been. Truth be told, she is even a little excited. Jon Snow was half laughing when he presented her with this outlandish scheme.
“Lady Alys, The Watch cannot protect you indefinitely. You know you need a husband, and there are many knights at Castle Black who would be happy to wed you.” Alys couldn’t help making a face, and she was sure Jon knew what she thought of the king’s men. She had taken one look at the knights and recognized them for a company of cowards and lechers.
“Without King Stannis’s army, though, they stand no chance of restoring you to your rightful inheritance. If you marry one of them, Karhold will still be forever lost to you. On the other hand, there is someone with… one could say an army of his own.” This was puzzling, insofar as she knew all the lords of the North had sworn allegiance to either Stannis or the Boltons. Then a wild hope rose in her heart. The Night’s Watch was armed, and under Lord Snow’s command. She’d noticed how comely Jon had grown up to be, and on lonely nights, she had wondered whether he thought the same of her…
Maybe her eyes betrayed what was going through her mind, since he turned suddenly serious: “I’m not sure how you will take this. The man I have in mind is a wildling. He is the leader of a ... let’s call it a clan, the Thenns. They claim to be the last of the First Men. He is called the Magnar, it means a lord, but in truth he is more like a king to them. The Thenns are more like us than other free folk. They have laws and obey them; they lived too far up north to come raiding over the wall. I imagine they lived much like the First Men, really. This man, the Magnar, has more than a hundred fighting men at his command, so they could easily take Karhold. I can attest that they are ferocious fighters, and disciplined.”
Alys was speechless. Seeing her face, Jon quickly added: “He isn’t much older than you. His father, the old Magnar, was killed during his attack on Castle Black. His feelings for the Watch are not the most cordial, so I assume helping you to claim Karhold would be in his interest.”
“You haven’t spoken to him?” “Not yet. I do not presume to offer your hand to anyone without your consent.”
Her choices were non-existent, so she was already halfway to accepting this scheme when Jon produced the would-be suitor. Alys paced around the Lord Commander’s chamber, waiting for Jon and this Magnar. She had agreed to Jon’s suggestion almost on a whim, but now fear was threatening to get the better of her. A wildling, a real wildling… She had never really thought of the people north of the Wall. Karhold was too far for them to come raiding, so they were merely the stuff of legends and bedtime stories. Now they were on this side of the Wall, and she might marry one… She couldn’t picture what a wildling king would look like. The few free folk she had spotted at Castle Black looked more or less like everyone else, indistinguishable balls of fur wading through the snowdrifts. She had to trust Lord Snow to not produce anything horrible. To reject this man would insult both him and Jon, and ruin whatever master plan Lord Snow was hatching. She didn’t think for a moment that Jon wasn’t getting anything out of this alliance.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and tried to compose herself. Anything would be better than Uncle Cregan. Jon entered, stamping snow from his boots, followed by a tall man who had to be the Magnar. Relief almost made her swoon. Save for his impressive bronze armor, the wildling could as well have been some southron lord her father had arranged her to wed. He was young, almost a boy, but she could see from his stance that this man was a warrior, and a fearsome one. Proud, too. Jon said they believe themselves the last of the First Men. She wondered briefly if Jon had made her sound so frightening that armor was called for. At least the wildling seemed to be a little in awe of her.
“This is Lady Alys Karstark. Lady Alys, I would like you to meet the Magnar of Thenn.” The young man bowed rather stiffly, eyeing her with some suspicion. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had dreaded what Lord Snow would conjure up. Alys put forward her most charming smile and curtseyed like she were at King’s Landing instead of this castle at the edge of the world. “You are no beauty, but your smile is your best feature. Remember to use it as often as you can” septa Mirian always said. She had had a septa to tutor her, like any respectable young lady, though her lord father had made it very clear that septa Mirian was to keep her religion to herself. Maybe the old septa had been right, as the wildling seemed quite at loss for words.
Jon had evidently told him the outlines of his plan, but the man asked her for some details on the garrison and fortifications at Karhold. He appeared to understand Common Tongue, though speaking it clearly took some effort. She couldn’t afterwards remember a word she’d said, since all her thoughts had concentrated on one point. Could she really trust her fortunes with this stranger? Her eyes didn’t leave him for a moment, as she tried to gauge what sort of a man this Magnar was. He isn’t as handsome as Daryn, but then I’m no Queen Cersei either. He had a narrow face, like many northmen, with high cheekbones and a straight, sharp nose that was slightly too large for that youthful face. He had none of Daryn’s easygoing charm, but in a colder, sterner way he was almost comely. Even the receding hairline made him only appear less boyish. She remembered that wildlings used to capture young women on their raids and carry them away to be their wives. He looks strong enough to carry me off, at least. The thought held a certain fascination.
Faced with this intense scrutiny, the Magnar grew visibly uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot, barely meeting her eyes when he spoke to her. He is shy. Fearless on the battlefield, no doubt, but faced with a lady he doesn’t know what to say. Still, his grey eyes lingered on her, measuring every detail of her appearance. She had washed with freezing-cold water, even poured it over her head and dried her hair by the fire, but suddenly she felt awfully shabby in her stained and tattered dress. I hope he likes what he sees… because I think I have just bought what Lord Snow is selling me. She hadn’t forgotten those two hundred soldiers and the promise of ousting her traitorous uncles, but it was a more personal kind of consideration that decided the matter. If I have to pay my way home with my maidenhood, then I’d rather like him being the one to take it.
“Shall I leave you two alone for a moment? If you need more time to think this through, I understand, but I must remind you that Cregan’s absence may arouse suspicion in his men and cause them to come looking for you. If you want to surprise them in Karhold, time is of essence. ” Alys nodded, and Jon bowed himself out and closed the door.
She was shaking inside with barely suppressed fear, but managed a smile she hoped to be charming. “Will you help me?”
The Magnar‘s voice did not quaver when he replied, but she could see the same fear in his eyes, the sensation of jumping from a cliff without knowing what would lay beneath. “I have two hundred men, but four hundred women, children, wounded… Will there be place for them?“
He’d marry me if I were a hog, and he’s the better man for it. “There is more than enough land for anyone willing to farm it. My father took most of the peasants south with him, and they never came back. Smiths, shepherds… everyone will be needed. The winter will be tough, but I assume no tougher than it would be where you come from.”
“You promise?”
“I promise it, on my honor. If you promise to listen to me when you rule. It is my home, I know the land, the people, the neighbours… You may capture the castle, but you cannot hold it without me. Let me help you.” This wasn’t the way to speak to a suitor, but she was desperate. Please, please don’t be like uncle Cregan. Don’t treat me like some brood mare, you can’t, you have to see that you need me. The man looked taken aback by this sudden outburst, but he was sharp enough to understand the truth in her words.
“On my honor I promise. “ Solemnly he held out a hand, and she took it.