Okay, so here's the next chapter. I finally kinda explain why and how Jaime has become infatuated with Gabrielle and Gabrielle's mother explains her Dothraki roots :).
I suppose I've written Jaime more realistic, I guess, but I do like how I kinda wrote him. Btw, I've researched the Dothraki language but couldn't find anything on it, so what I've done instead, is substituted Hungarian for the Dothraki language because I couldn't find Native American. To me, it kinda fit lol. The translations for the words are located at the end of the chapter :)
Enjoy!
Nagiana
Everywhere Gabrielle walked, she still felt Jaime's eyes on her, although this time, curiosity tinged his gazes that were more alarming than anything. Originally when he first met her, his gazes were ones of lust that a man got when he first saw a woman he must bed post haste, but now . . . now there was something about her that caused his fanatic intrigue of her. She didn't know what it was, but it was finally brought to light when he hunted her down in the garden one afternoon.
She had been walking by herself this time, as Maharet was busy getting her quarters ready for her lying in, a process that she would have to enter soon for the two months leading up to the birth of her baby, a book of poetry open in her hand and her other lying on her stomach, where her son kicked every once in a while. She was reading deep into a poem when she felt long, elegant fingers wrap around her upper arm. Thinking it was Jon; Gabrielle grinned and turned around, only for the grin to immediately be wiped from her face when she realized that it was Jaime Lannister. Her face became expressionless and he smiled as he slowly let go of her arm. He inclined his head to her and she repeated the action before he gestured down the stone path winding its way through the expansive gardens towards one of the Godtrees located in the North.
"Walk with me?" He posed the question as a request, not a command, which was not the norm for a Lannister and in which immediately made Gabrielle recoil in surprise. The Lannisters were used to being the ones giving commands that were to be done on a moment's notice, not requests that could be turned down if wanted to. She didn't know whether Jaime's politeness came from him having a trick up his sleeve or if he genuinely wanted to redeem himself towards her after their embarrassing meeting before the arrival of King Robert and his court.
Gabrielle nodded, not saying anything, as turned down the arm he held out for her. She walked ahead of him and Jaime sighed before he fallowed after her, quickly catching up to her slow strides with his large ones. She was gazing straight ahead of her, leaving the opening of the conversation to him. He sighed and looked around.
"It is a beautiful afternoon today, is it not?" Gabrielle nodded.
"Oh, yes it is." That was all she said as a reply and Jaime sighed and tried for a new angle.
"I am sorry about our earlier meeting. I just -"
"You just thought what, Ser Lannister?" Gabrielle asked him shortly, coldly, as she suddenly stopped walking mid-stride and turned to face him. Jaime stopped beside her and she continued,
"You were well aware of who my husband was, Ser Lannister -"
"Please, Jaime . . . my father is the Ser Lannister." He interrupted her gently, and her eyebrow rose in inquiry.
"Would you prefer to be called, 'Kingslayer' then? You see, I refuse to call you by your first name after how you embarrassed me in front of my Lady Midwife." Jaime pursed his lips and shook his head.
"No, my Lady Snow . . . Ser Lannister is fine, I suppose . . ." He could see how Jon had fallen so head-over-heels in love with this woman. Her tongue was as barbed as her mind was sharp and her eyes alone could cut diamonds. He had no doubt in his mind that Gabrielle was like Catelyn Stark in the ideal that she would cut the throat of anyone who dared challenge or harm someone she held dear to her.
Gabrielle nodded and resumed where he had interrupted her.
"You were well aware of whom my husband was, Ser Lannister, and yet you continued to act like a love-struck schoolboy in my presence!" Jaime grinned.
"But my Lady Snow, you are beautiful! I simply cannot understand how you cannot see that a man cannot help but fall in love with you on first sight?" Gabrielle pursed her lips.
"That is not the point, Ser Lannister -!"
"Tell me, my most beautiful and gracious Lady Snow . . . from whence do your parents hail from?" Gabrielle was immediately taken aback by the question and she could not help but stutter out a response.
"I can't see how that's any of your business, Ser Lannister! But if you insist on inquiring, my father was born and raised in the North whereas my mother is a Lady from a far off province. They met one day in Kings Landing and the rest is history from there. Why do you inquire?" Jaime Lannister smiled graciously as he stepped closer to her. He gently ran a finger down her cheek and smiled as she immediately blushed.
"I have substantial evidence that leads me to believe that you are half of something that is not from Westeros, my Lady. And speaking earlier of desire, you really want to know why I am so in love with you, as you so blatantly put it? All day, I am surrounded by fair-haired, light skinned women whom are so dreadfully boring! When I saw you standing across from me in the courtyard, I immediately knew the rumors about you would be true . . . you were fiery; you were different than the boring women back in King's Landing. You were . . . exotic!"
"You know what they say, Ser Lannister . . . believe nothing of what you hear and only half of what your see!" Jaime chuckled a little as he gently ran a thumb over her lips.
"Yes, but these rumors are going to prove true, this I know for sure. Not-to-mention, your blood . . . is what intrigues me now. Your blood is what makes me want to possess you, body and soul, Lady Snow. Whether it is just lust or me wanting to be purely selfish and take the only thing from Jon Snow that he has left, I do not know. What I do know is that I will have you, Lady Snow . . . whether you like it or not, whether your bastard husband likes it or not, you will eventually be in my bed." A look of barely hidden fury appeared in her eyes.
"Your impudence will be paid for, Ser Lannister! I will have you locked up and beaten for your impudence!" She hissed, and he couldn't help but allow his grin to grow just a tiny bit bigger.
"Whips or chains, sweetheart, make your choice . . . they all have the same effect on me."
The village of Winterfell still looked the same six months later. It still held the same smells of tanned leather and the rich smells of the blacksmiths bellows and baking bread. Gabrielle missed casually wandering the streets of Winterfell, gazing in pity at the beggar children and the blind crones that called that they could tell you your fortune for just a sixpence. Gabrielle smiled to herself as she took in the sights and the same smile was still held on her face when she reached the door to her childhood home. She ran a finger lovingly down the mahogany frame of the door leading to her father's workshop, her delicate fingers running over the notches in the wood marring its surface from when they would measure how much she had grown over the years.
She stepped over the threshold and into the sweltering heat of the workshop, her and Maharet flipping down their hoods as they entered. They gazed around the shop, their eyes moving over the cooling utensils and newly made weapons and armor sitting in the nearby tub of cool water, to the big, hulking man working the bellows. His inky black hair shone in the fierce light of the fire and when Gabrielle called out his name, he immediately stopped and turned around. He beamed and upon hastily wiping his hands off on the rag he kept tied to his belt loop, swept her up in a twirling embrace, careful of the large swell of her belly.
He set her down and planted a soft, loving kiss to her forehead, a tear moving down both of their cheeks. "Ah, my daughter . . . you have returned. I trust you are well taken care of up in Castle Winterfell?" Gabrielle nodded fiercely, her eyes alight with a fiery passion.
"Of course, father! Jon is a wonderful husband, dutiful, loving . . ." She placed a hand on the smooth swell of her still growing stomach. "We are expecting a child, as well, father." A light appeared in Manfred Pournell's eyes and he grinned and planted another soft kiss to his daughter's forehead.
"Congratulations, my daughter. May you and Lord Snow's marriage be blessed with many a healthy child! Now tell me, is there a reason for your long overdue visit?" Gabrielle nodded.
"Yes, how is mother?" Manfred shrugged.
"She is better. She is lucid and up and about, if that is what you mean." Gabrielle nodded.
"I need to see her, father . . . I need to talk to her." Manfred nodded and gestured to the door leading to their humble abode.
"Yes, of course . . ."
He moved to the door and opened it, where he led them inside. He called for Gabrielle's mother and they found her in the kitchen. Amanra Pournell, Gabrielle's exotically beautiful mother, was bustling around the kitchen sink, chopping up vegetables for the stew that was currently boiling above the fire in the fireplace. She too beamed when she caught sight of her daughter, and moved over to her, where she kissed her twice, on both cheeks.
"Galambom (1) how are you! I see you are with child! Congratulations!" Gabrielle nodded as she moved to sit down at the rickety dinner table located in the kitchen. Maharet sat down beside her and once Amanra had served them all tea, sat down in front of her daughter. Gabrielle was the one who started the conversation.
"Mother, that language . . . the language that you always used around the house . . . from whence does it hail from?"
Amanra, whose hair and skin and eyes were as dark as her daughter's, was long considered an exotic beauty amidst all the fair-skinned, dark-haired women of the North. Her mother shrugged however.
"What language?" Gabrielle gazed at her pointedly.
"Mother, please! Galambom, gyorsan (2) . . . those words are not used in any language in Westeros that I or Maharet knows of! Mother, what language is it?" Amanra pursed her lips for a moment before she sighed and pushed her tea cup awake. She folded her lightly wrinkled hands in front of her and gazed at her daughter for a moment before replying.
"It is . . . it is the language of the Dothraki," She swallowed heavily. "It is the language of our ancestors . . . of our family that still resides amongst the Dothraki Sea." Gabrielle and Maharet blinked a couple of times in a stunned silence before Maharet chose to break it.
"Forgive me Lady Pournell, but that is impossible! Nobody has ever crossed the sea into Dothraki lands and lived to tell the tale!" Amanra gazed at her in smug self-approval.
"Not if you are from the Dothraki, my Lady . . . which I am. I was born and raised amongst the Dothraki, my Lady, and fled here when an injustice was made to me. It is here that I met Gabrielle's father and conceived Gabrielle." Gabrielle continued to gaze at her mother in shock as her mother passionately continued,
"I am the honored sister of the late Khal Bharbo and the honored aunt to the current Khal, Drogo." Gabrielle pursed her lips, anger roiling over her in waves.
"You kept this from me all this time, mother!" She demanded of her, and Amanra gazed at her daughter in slight hurt.
"I did it to protect you daughter! I did it to keep from wanting to go out to find them! The Dothraki are a cruel, harsh race, one that makes or breaks you."
"And it broke you, I see!" Amanra drew herself up at her daughter's harsh words, a fierce look of pride on her beautiful, yet middle-aged face.
"I escaped, my daughter, because I was betrothed to a cruel man that only wanted me because of my beauty and my family's ability to bear frequent sons, something that you surely would have suffered if I had not left and bore you there, amongst those cold, harsh people. I never told you because I did not want you to suffer the harsh injustices that I would have had growing up. In order to be something in that world, to have a mind, an opinion, to earn respect, you must have three things: a sword, a cock and a horse, neither three of which I had!" She paused for a moment to catch her breath, her eyes fiercely strong and angry as she continued,
"I did not tell you because I thought that you would be ashamed to have a mother who ran, who defied her father and mother to escape. I am happy to see that you are still somewhat of the immature gyermeck (3) that you once were!" Gabrielle recoiled slightly.
"I could never be ashamed of you, mother. I'm just angry that you never told me!" Amanra shot her a scathing look out of the corner of her eye.
"I never told you because you never asked!"
1 – My Dove
2 – Quickly
3 – Child