𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒚 𝑶𝒖𝒕

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝑰

  𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑰
300 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕

𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒕

It has been too many days of voting, of pickering and argument, back and forth and back and forth again and again. And the more time it took to vote, the more Stannis did grow more and more frustrated. Not that it really mattered to Ben. The King's frustrations were not his concern at that moment. What was his concern, was that the stubborn woman on the floor in front of him was being a drag.

"Eat."

He groaned once more, offering Val again a third bowl. This one would be the final. He would not go to the cook again to fetch another. Val was left in the room by herself throughout most of the days since her capture. She was separate from Tormund and Mance, of course, to have a woman's privacy. She had scarcely said a thing since what he did.

"Val..just fucking-"

She smacked the third and final bowl of stew from his hands, the wooden bowl clattering on the wooden floor, the stew that was made of mystery meat splattered everywhere. Ben just shook his head with a deep frown, groaning.

"You know, we used to have this mare in the stables at Winterfell, this beautiful white stallion my father rode. But no matter who approached it, the damned thing would buck and thrash. She nearly bit my ear off once. And the only person to calm her down was my father. And still, even while remembering her, that horse was never as stubborn as you are being right now."

"Go away."

"That's not going to be an acceptable answer, darling."

"Then what do you want me to say?"

Val glared at him, her voice booming with anger and hate, though he could tell that she struggled to maintain the two.

"You want me to suddenly come prancing back to you simply because you saved my life and my decency?"

"I want you to stop being an ass."

"Well, guess what, Ben? I've decided that I want to stay an ass! Perhaps my spite will drive you and your Crow friends to test your wings at the top of your Wall!"

Taking a deep breath, Ben closes his eyes and exhaled, sitting himself down in a chair, tense. He tensed his shoulders, his hands squeezing into fists before he released all tension. This woman would be the death of him, he knew. Opening his eyes once again, he was met with her glare, but Ben simply gazed at her calmly.

"You know what is going to happen to you, and to your people?"

He asked quietly, and Val looked away, spitting at the floor with further spite.

"That new king of yours ought to decide soon. I'm sick of sitting in this room."

"You sit in this room with that bucket in the corner and stew all on the floor because of your own damn decisions, Val, not Stannis, and not I."

Ben shook his head.

"Stannis Baratheon is at war for the Seven Kingdoms. He's been beaten bad already, but a wolf, or in this case, a stag, backed into a corner is when it's most dangerous. You thought his complete victory over your people beyond the Wall was something? Then perhaps hearing about the Battle of the Whistling Wood would suffice. Perhaps the Battle of Blackwater would top everything you've ever heard of before."