Chapter 37 – The "Wildling Princess" Val
Jon stared blankly at the rope now tied around his own wrists.
A moment ago, he had been the one guarding a prisoner.
Now he was the prisoner.
He glanced at Ygritte—cunning as a fox. From beginning to end, she had barely spoken a single honest word. And he, fool that he was, had lowered his guard so easily.
He truly was still just a boy.
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From behind a cluster of massive boulders, Saelen and the others watched from a distance as Jon was disarmed and taken captive by the wildlings.
Robb clenched his fists. "Saelen, we should go after them. If we move quickly—"
"Relax," Saelen interrupted, shaking his head calmly. "We need to trust Jon. Didn't we want to know where the wildling camp is? Well, now we have a guide. We just need to follow them quietly."
Robb hesitated, but finally nodded.
Just then, Othell hurried over.
"My lord, we caught another wildling nearby."
"Another one?" Saelen raised a brow.
"Yes, my lord. She was bold—tried to free the prisoners when we weren't looking."
He gestured behind him.
Two soldiers escorted a wildling forward.
It was a woman.
Brown hair, blue eyes. Young. Strikingly beautiful. Her figure was slender yet strong, dressed in the garb of a warrior.
Her arrival drew every eye. Conversations faded. Men stared openly, unable—or unwilling—to look away.
Even Saelen had to admit she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—perhaps even surpassing Sansa Stark in raw, untamed elegance.
He stepped closer.
"My lord, be careful," Othell warned in a low voice. "She's fierce. Two of our men were wounded capturing her."
A clear, defiant voice rang out before Saelen could respond.
"If you hadn't swarmed me like cowards," the wildling woman said coolly, lifting her chin, "those two men would be corpses."
There was pride in her tone. And not a hint of fear.
The men shifted uneasily.
Saelen studied her in silence for a moment.
Wild.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Interesting.
"What's your name?"
The wildling woman merely glanced at him and remained silent.
Beside him, Qhorin said calmly, "If they don't want to talk, it's nearly impossible to make them. I once interrogated a wildling who bit off his own tongue before revealing a single word."
"It doesn't matter," Saelen replied lightly. "We've already achieved our objective."
He smiled faintly.
"We just released one wildling woman, and now another delivers herself to us. Seems the gods favor us today."
"Ygritte is still alive?" the woman suddenly asked.
"So you came specifically to rescue her," Saelen observed. "You're bold—coming alone."
He added casually, "Not only is she alive, she's taken my good brother Jon captive."
At the news, the tension in the woman's shoulders eased slightly. Relief flickered across her face before she steadied herself.
"My name is Val," she said at last.
"Val?" Saelen narrowed his eyes, studying her. Then, as if confirming a suspicion, he asked, "Do you have a sister named Dalla?"
Val's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't answer—but her body language said enough.
So that's it, Saelen thought. No wonder she's this beautiful.
"Your sister is Mance Rayder's wife, isn't she?" Saelen continued smoothly. "The so-called 'Wildling Princess,' Val."
"We free folk don't have princesses," Val replied, forcing calm into her voice.
Saelen didn't argue the title. Instead, he pressed on.
"If you're here, then Mance Rayder must be nearby."
"So tell me—why is he gathering so many wildlings in this frozen wasteland? What exactly is he looking for?"
Val fell silent again, as if she hadn't heard.
Othell grew irritated and shoved her roughly. "Answer! My lord is speaking to you. Stop pretending you're deaf."
"We are free folk, not wildlings," Val said evenly. "And I have a name."
Saelen still showed no anger. He simply fixed her with a steady gaze.
"Even if you won't say it, I already know. Mance Rayder is gathering his host in the Frostfangs… looking for something called the Horn of Winter, isn't he?"
"The Horn of Winter?" Robb asked from the side, frowning. The others looked at Saelen curiously.
Only Val betrayed a slight tremor.
It did not escape Saelen's notice.
"It's said to be a magical artifact," Saelen explained calmly. "Blow it, and the Wall will fall. Giants buried beneath the earth will awaken."
"Destroy the Wall?" Qhorin exclaimed. Even Benjen Stark's expression turned grave. "Where did you hear this? Is it reliable?"
"Old books," Saelen shrugged. "Ancient records. Whether they're true or not… no one can say."
Robb's mind was already racing.
"So Mance believes the Horn is in the Frostfangs. He's gathered tens of thousands of free folk to search for it. If he finds it and blows it—if the Wall falls—then nothing stands between them and the North."
"Smart," Saelen nodded.
If that were true—if Mance truly found the Horn and shattered the Wall—even if the North somehow held off the wildling host, what of the army of the dead that would follow?
The thought chilled Robb to the bone.
"Saelen. Uncle Benjen," Robb said urgently. "We have to stop them from finding it."
Benjen nodded solemnly. The others, imagining the Wall collapsing and an endless tide of corpses flooding into the North, felt cold dread seep into their hearts.
The scale of such a scheme was terrifying.
At that moment, Wylis Manderly spoke up hesitantly.
"Ser Saelen, if you already knew this, why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"Because it was only a theory," Saelen replied calmly. "Until we confirmed it, spreading it would have caused nothing but panic."
He paused.
"And there's no need to worry. The Horn of Winter isn't in the Frostfangs. Mance and his host are searching in vain."
"You're lying," Val snapped, unable to remain composed any longer. "How can you be so sure? Mance spent years confirming the Horn's existence!"
Saelen grinned broadly.
"So that means Mance truly is searching the Frostfangs for the Horn."
Val froze—then realized too late she had revealed the truth.
"You bastard," she hissed. "You tricked me."
"Tricked you?" Saelen chuckled softly. "Everything I said was true. The Horn of Winter isn't in the Frostfangs."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Because the real Horn of Winter… is in my possession."
Whether that was entirely true—
Only Saelen knew.