Fic: Stealing His Queen (Jon/Val)
Oct. 2nd, 2012 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lightofdayeWell I've not written much of anything lately. So I decided to finish this off. I started it months ago. Still not sure if i like the concept at all. The stealing thing is very problematic in a consensual/moral sense. And i sort of gave up and rushed to the finish at the end. Definitely not my best work and with that ringing endorsement here we go...
Title: Stealing His Queen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Val
Word Count:~1,900
Warnings: Violence, sexy times, violent sexytimes, and severe issues of consent.
A/n: Reviews and concrit very welcome. This was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
midnightblack07’s prompt at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
asoiafkinkmeme “Jon/Val + Jon and Val are wed as per Stannis' command, but she refuses to acknowledge that he is her husband until he "steals" her...”
~~~
“These vows are just words, Jon Stark,” She said softly as he wrapped the cloak about her shoulders. “And words are wind until you steal me for yourself.”
“If you don’t want me as your husband you only have to say.” Jon whispered back as he fiddled with the white and grey bridal cloak’s clasp.
“I didn’t say that.” Val’s hard grey eyes softened till they looked almost blue. “But you have to steal me all the same.”
While they might have been mere wind, Val’s words only added to Jon’s discomfort. Almost from the moment he had accepted Stannis’ offer of legitimacy and lordom he had realised it was mistake, certainly he had as soon as Ghost had returned to Castle Black just hours later.
Even as he regretted the decision he honestly still didn’t know what else he could have done. Before his return to Castle Black, he had been seen travelling with a wilding raiding band and not even his return and subsequent fighting off of several wilding hordes had not redeemed himself in the eyes of many of his brothers. If he stayed at Castle Black he was likely to get stabbed in the back on a dark night, especially with their newly elected Lord Commander; Janos Slynt, in charge.
So he had taken King Stannis’ offer and been awarded Winterfell as his own and Val as his wife. Stannis thought it would help with the wildings but he knew little of the Free Folks as they named themselves. It was strength they respected not lineage.
Val respected strength as well. The Wilding custom was to steal your women, to break into their homes and carry them off against all the opposition they and their family could muster. To the sensibilities of the Seven Kingdom it was nothing more than ritualised rape but beyond the wall Jon had begun to see the reasoning behind it. If nothing else it ensured the strong and fit got to marry; those most able to provide and protect their women and children.
It was Stannis’ strength that got Val to attend the marriage ceremony with Jon, his men at arms in their ringmail and sword belts. Nothing could make her mean the words though and after the ceremony, Val returned to her guarded tower room, without him. Seeing this, Stannis just scowled and ground his jaw.
“I do not have time to waste while you play games with the wildling woman, Lord Stark,” he growled at Jon after the witnesses had left. “Just get on with it and do it quickly.”
Which was practically a royal command. Greater perspective or not, Jon didn’t like the idea of trying to take Val against her will. Yet now he was sworn to Stannis it was his duty. And Jon had always tried to do his duty…
*
He dressed lightly that evening, in just enough clothes to ensure he wouldn’t freeze to death. The heavy cloak was the most important part and under that the tunic and swordbelt with a heavy dirk on it.
He hurries to the tower where Val is kept. There is only one guard on her door now. One of Stannis’ men-at-arms, who looked thoroughly confused at Jon’s approach.
“I have my orders. No-one is to enter the Lady’s chambers.” He insisted when Jon requested entry, though he didn’t look happy about it. He knew of the wedding ceremony at the Nightfire as well as anyone else. “I’m sorry m’lord.”
“I’m sorry too.” Jon said and turned as though he meant to leave. Instead he spun full circle and added the momentum to the punch he threw at the guard’s nose, snapping the unfortunate man’s head back into the wall, so his pothelm rang like a bell with a resounding clang and he collapsed to the floor in an undignified heap.
The door gave way when Jon applied his shoulder to it. Val was sitting on her bed. Jon gazed at her for the moment, and was struck by just how the beautiful the woman was, with long blonde hair, and slender body with a full bosom. Jon swore he could see the faint glimmer of a smile twisting the woman’s lips as she surveyed the intruder in her room.
“Val,” He said gruffly, “Are you really going to make me do this, like this?”
She responded by charging him. Jon fumbled for his dirk as she drew back a fist and smacked him in the jaw. He grunted and fell back from her as she repeated the blow this time managing to grab her forearm and help it on its way, yanking her forward and off balance. There were close enough to kiss and not wasting a second Val hurled a knee up at his crotch, and Jon only just managed to twist enough to take to blow on his hip instead.
His dirk was free of its sheath now but that only made Jon more nervous. When he was young, Ser Rodrik had drilled into him never to draw steel unless he meant to use it. He didn’t want to hurt Val, but on the other hand he didn’t want her to keep hitting him like this. For such a slender person Val packed a wallop.
Jamming a forearm against her chest, Jon pushed Val up against the wall with one arm and placed the dirk up near her throat. Not near as closely as if he actually intended to use it but close enough so the threat was there.
“Come on, Val, do I literally have to drag you off to my room for this to count?”
Again the slight smile, as if she wanted him to be successful .
“You know nothing Jon Stark. Only the bravest or most foolhardy of men tries to steal a woman in her own bed.”
Of course it was a lot of harder to get it up and fuck a wench if her entire family was still trying to cave your head in, Jon supposed. Fortunately the only guard Val had was still unconscious on the hallway.
Keeping the knife close to her neck, Jon dropped his other arm away from her chest. She remained tense but did not immediately try to attack him again, apparently the threat of the cold steel counted for something. Her blonde hair was wild, cascading over her face and shoulders. He reached up with his free hand and brushed the hair away from her face. She made a small noise as his finger tips brushed her flesh but then her face hardened with determination.
“I’m not yours,” she growled.
“Not yet.” Jon replied. His tightened its grip on her hair and he suddenly pulled them away from the wall. Hating himself with every step, He dragged back to her bed and, tossing away the dirk, bent her over it. She struggled, limbs flailing as she tried to break free but Jon had a firm grip in the back of her neck and a definite advantage in weight and leverage .
His heart hammered in his chest as his free hand clumsily unlaces himself, telling himself the exertion and pounding his blood is why he’s almost hard already . Then he pulled up her dress, shoving the fabric above her legs into a great wadding of cloth above her hips, exposing the pale curves of her arse to him.
He hated himself as he took himself in hand and placed the tip of his member at her entrance. Val was tense beneath him, every muscle locked in strain to escape him. Hatred turn into anger, anger at Stannis for making him marry her, anger at the wildings for their fucked up traditions and anger at Val for being so damn stubborn. He pushed forward, parting Val’s folds. Her inner muscles clenched tight against as apparently unwilling as the rest of her to allow him entrance, but Jon took some comfort when he realised she was actually quite slick with excitement.
Val let out a yowling noise like a cat when he sank himself deeper inside her. Jon couldn’t tell if it was an expression of pain or pleasure. With the way her heat was squeezing him he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. She’d brought this on herself.
He drew himself back and thrust back in again with a meaty sound and another groan from Val, he could see her fingers clawing at her bed’s furs, white-knuckled. It was too late to stop now though and Jon gritted his teeth and kept rocking his hips, moving in quick hard thrusts, not even bothering to try and draw things out.
As he slide in and out, Val’s moans softened and he could feel her body relax under his, her muscles unclenching. Jon’ hand left her neck and he shifted to lie against her back, his face pressed against soft blonde hair.
As Val relaxed, Jon’s body tensed instead, tension seizing his manhood, tugging at his balls into his speed pulsed out of him. His body buzzed with pleasure, it had not been the glorious release he had had with Ygritte but it was enough to make him burn with shame at its source. He let loose a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
“That’s it. That is it, you’re mine.” Jon said. It was half a statement and half a desperate plea.
“Yes. Yes I am, my husband.” Val replied.
“Oh, thank the gods.” He rolled off to lie on his back on the furs.
Val shifted onto her side so she could look at him her blue-grey eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement.
“You almost sound as if that was not pleasant, Jon Stark”
Jon made a small non committal sort of noise in the back of his throat, prompting a laugh from Val; it was the kind of rich, melodious sound that Jon had not heard in many years.
“You are very strange, Jon” Val continued, “I’ve never met a warrior who would not at least claim he enjoyed the taking of women. And you stole that spear wife of yours, Ygritte.”
“I didn’t…” Jon began, but his voice died away, he was sick of explaining what had happened and not being believed. Instead he simply finished. “Ygritte came to my bed very willingly.”
Val’s gaze swept up and down Jon’s body.
“Hmm. And I can see why,” she said with a smirk.
“Could have fooled me.” Jon said by way of reply.
“Then,” Val said, “I shall just have to convince you.”
She pounced on him, her lips crashing down on his. Her speed and ferocity was no less now than when she had been trying to kill him. Groaned deeply and seemed to inhale her as her tongue surged into his mouth. He was dizzy with sensation, almost over whelmed.
After that, things seem to pass in a blur. Clothes were discarded, kisses exchanged and suddenly Val was beneath him again, this time on her back, legs spread and breasts pushed up against Jon’s chest as he mounted her.
The second coupling was like night and day, he slipped back inside her without the slightest resistance, her strong legs wrapping around his waist, one heel, pressing against his arse, the other curled around his thigh, both of them puling him closer to her, urging him on as he rutted against her slender frame.
Even as he spilled himself into her, he could feel her racing pulse against his chest, matching the thundering of his own blood.
As the wildings said; their two hearts beat as one, at last.
Title: Stealing His Queen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Val
Word Count:~1,900
Warnings: Violence, sexy times, violent sexytimes, and severe issues of consent.
A/n: Reviews and concrit very welcome. This was written for
midnightblack07’s prompt at asoiafkinkmeme “Jon/Val + Jon and Val are wed as per Stannis' command, but she refuses to acknowledge that he is her husband until he "steals" her...”~~~
“These vows are just words, Jon Stark,” She said softly as he wrapped the cloak about her shoulders. “And words are wind until you steal me for yourself.”
“If you don’t want me as your husband you only have to say.” Jon whispered back as he fiddled with the white and grey bridal cloak’s clasp.
“I didn’t say that.” Val’s hard grey eyes softened till they looked almost blue. “But you have to steal me all the same.”
While they might have been mere wind, Val’s words only added to Jon’s discomfort. Almost from the moment he had accepted Stannis’ offer of legitimacy and lordom he had realised it was mistake, certainly he had as soon as Ghost had returned to Castle Black just hours later.
Even as he regretted the decision he honestly still didn’t know what else he could have done. Before his return to Castle Black, he had been seen travelling with a wilding raiding band and not even his return and subsequent fighting off of several wilding hordes had not redeemed himself in the eyes of many of his brothers. If he stayed at Castle Black he was likely to get stabbed in the back on a dark night, especially with their newly elected Lord Commander; Janos Slynt, in charge.
So he had taken King Stannis’ offer and been awarded Winterfell as his own and Val as his wife. Stannis thought it would help with the wildings but he knew little of the Free Folks as they named themselves. It was strength they respected not lineage.
Val respected strength as well. The Wilding custom was to steal your women, to break into their homes and carry them off against all the opposition they and their family could muster. To the sensibilities of the Seven Kingdom it was nothing more than ritualised rape but beyond the wall Jon had begun to see the reasoning behind it. If nothing else it ensured the strong and fit got to marry; those most able to provide and protect their women and children.
It was Stannis’ strength that got Val to attend the marriage ceremony with Jon, his men at arms in their ringmail and sword belts. Nothing could make her mean the words though and after the ceremony, Val returned to her guarded tower room, without him. Seeing this, Stannis just scowled and ground his jaw.
“I do not have time to waste while you play games with the wildling woman, Lord Stark,” he growled at Jon after the witnesses had left. “Just get on with it and do it quickly.”
Which was practically a royal command. Greater perspective or not, Jon didn’t like the idea of trying to take Val against her will. Yet now he was sworn to Stannis it was his duty. And Jon had always tried to do his duty…
*
He dressed lightly that evening, in just enough clothes to ensure he wouldn’t freeze to death. The heavy cloak was the most important part and under that the tunic and swordbelt with a heavy dirk on it.
He hurries to the tower where Val is kept. There is only one guard on her door now. One of Stannis’ men-at-arms, who looked thoroughly confused at Jon’s approach.
“I have my orders. No-one is to enter the Lady’s chambers.” He insisted when Jon requested entry, though he didn’t look happy about it. He knew of the wedding ceremony at the Nightfire as well as anyone else. “I’m sorry m’lord.”
“I’m sorry too.” Jon said and turned as though he meant to leave. Instead he spun full circle and added the momentum to the punch he threw at the guard’s nose, snapping the unfortunate man’s head back into the wall, so his pothelm rang like a bell with a resounding clang and he collapsed to the floor in an undignified heap.
The door gave way when Jon applied his shoulder to it. Val was sitting on her bed. Jon gazed at her for the moment, and was struck by just how the beautiful the woman was, with long blonde hair, and slender body with a full bosom. Jon swore he could see the faint glimmer of a smile twisting the woman’s lips as she surveyed the intruder in her room.
“Val,” He said gruffly, “Are you really going to make me do this, like this?”
She responded by charging him. Jon fumbled for his dirk as she drew back a fist and smacked him in the jaw. He grunted and fell back from her as she repeated the blow this time managing to grab her forearm and help it on its way, yanking her forward and off balance. There were close enough to kiss and not wasting a second Val hurled a knee up at his crotch, and Jon only just managed to twist enough to take to blow on his hip instead.
His dirk was free of its sheath now but that only made Jon more nervous. When he was young, Ser Rodrik had drilled into him never to draw steel unless he meant to use it. He didn’t want to hurt Val, but on the other hand he didn’t want her to keep hitting him like this. For such a slender person Val packed a wallop.
Jamming a forearm against her chest, Jon pushed Val up against the wall with one arm and placed the dirk up near her throat. Not near as closely as if he actually intended to use it but close enough so the threat was there.
“Come on, Val, do I literally have to drag you off to my room for this to count?”
Again the slight smile, as if she wanted him to be successful .
“You know nothing Jon Stark. Only the bravest or most foolhardy of men tries to steal a woman in her own bed.”
Of course it was a lot of harder to get it up and fuck a wench if her entire family was still trying to cave your head in, Jon supposed. Fortunately the only guard Val had was still unconscious on the hallway.
Keeping the knife close to her neck, Jon dropped his other arm away from her chest. She remained tense but did not immediately try to attack him again, apparently the threat of the cold steel counted for something. Her blonde hair was wild, cascading over her face and shoulders. He reached up with his free hand and brushed the hair away from her face. She made a small noise as his finger tips brushed her flesh but then her face hardened with determination.
“I’m not yours,” she growled.
“Not yet.” Jon replied. His tightened its grip on her hair and he suddenly pulled them away from the wall. Hating himself with every step, He dragged back to her bed and, tossing away the dirk, bent her over it. She struggled, limbs flailing as she tried to break free but Jon had a firm grip in the back of her neck and a definite advantage in weight and leverage .
His heart hammered in his chest as his free hand clumsily unlaces himself, telling himself the exertion and pounding his blood is why he’s almost hard already . Then he pulled up her dress, shoving the fabric above her legs into a great wadding of cloth above her hips, exposing the pale curves of her arse to him.
He hated himself as he took himself in hand and placed the tip of his member at her entrance. Val was tense beneath him, every muscle locked in strain to escape him. Hatred turn into anger, anger at Stannis for making him marry her, anger at the wildings for their fucked up traditions and anger at Val for being so damn stubborn. He pushed forward, parting Val’s folds. Her inner muscles clenched tight against as apparently unwilling as the rest of her to allow him entrance, but Jon took some comfort when he realised she was actually quite slick with excitement.
Val let out a yowling noise like a cat when he sank himself deeper inside her. Jon couldn’t tell if it was an expression of pain or pleasure. With the way her heat was squeezing him he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. She’d brought this on herself.
He drew himself back and thrust back in again with a meaty sound and another groan from Val, he could see her fingers clawing at her bed’s furs, white-knuckled. It was too late to stop now though and Jon gritted his teeth and kept rocking his hips, moving in quick hard thrusts, not even bothering to try and draw things out.
As he slide in and out, Val’s moans softened and he could feel her body relax under his, her muscles unclenching. Jon’ hand left her neck and he shifted to lie against her back, his face pressed against soft blonde hair.
As Val relaxed, Jon’s body tensed instead, tension seizing his manhood, tugging at his balls into his speed pulsed out of him. His body buzzed with pleasure, it had not been the glorious release he had had with Ygritte but it was enough to make him burn with shame at its source. He let loose a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
“That’s it. That is it, you’re mine.” Jon said. It was half a statement and half a desperate plea.
“Yes. Yes I am, my husband.” Val replied.
“Oh, thank the gods.” He rolled off to lie on his back on the furs.
Val shifted onto her side so she could look at him her blue-grey eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement.
“You almost sound as if that was not pleasant, Jon Stark”
Jon made a small non committal sort of noise in the back of his throat, prompting a laugh from Val; it was the kind of rich, melodious sound that Jon had not heard in many years.
“You are very strange, Jon” Val continued, “I’ve never met a warrior who would not at least claim he enjoyed the taking of women. And you stole that spear wife of yours, Ygritte.”
“I didn’t…” Jon began, but his voice died away, he was sick of explaining what had happened and not being believed. Instead he simply finished. “Ygritte came to my bed very willingly.”
Val’s gaze swept up and down Jon’s body.
“Hmm. And I can see why,” she said with a smirk.
“Could have fooled me.” Jon said by way of reply.
“Then,” Val said, “I shall just have to convince you.”
She pounced on him, her lips crashing down on his. Her speed and ferocity was no less now than when she had been trying to kill him. Groaned deeply and seemed to inhale her as her tongue surged into his mouth. He was dizzy with sensation, almost over whelmed.
After that, things seem to pass in a blur. Clothes were discarded, kisses exchanged and suddenly Val was beneath him again, this time on her back, legs spread and breasts pushed up against Jon’s chest as he mounted her.
The second coupling was like night and day, he slipped back inside her without the slightest resistance, her strong legs wrapping around his waist, one heel, pressing against his arse, the other curled around his thigh, both of them puling him closer to her, urging him on as he rutted against her slender frame.
Even as he spilled himself into her, he could feel her racing pulse against his chest, matching the thundering of his own blood.
As the wildings said; their two hearts beat as one, at last.
