Summary: (Improved!) Jon Snow's impending fate to the Wall is nigh, but then he meets young Marian from Qarth, who comes to Winterfell in search of medicinal herbs to develop a cure for a mysterious fatal illness. Will she achieve her goal before her father dies? Who will help/delay her? + TWISTS & TURNS on the fight over the Iron Throne! JS/OC
Disclaimer: Do I own GOT? HA! I wish… (sigh)
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Previously…
"What the hell are you doing?!" Jon shouted at him with bewilderment.
"She'll hate your guts when she sees this…" Robert said smiling. A thin trail of blood emerged from his lips. "Your sword in my body… She… She knows my story, about the war, what I did to your parents… My blood, our blood, spilled yours; now yours has spilled mine…" He knelt on the floor then. "She'll think you've done the same thing here. She'll realise that Lord Tywin is still alive, that she must be handed over to get killed… Or worse than that. No one will allow you to keep her alive. I would've protected her. I care for her. She'll hate you… and she'll die. It'll be your fault."
"No, she won't die." Jon replied with a pale, tense face. "She won't be handed over to Lord Tywin, or to anyone who wants to harm her. As for her well-being, what I say goes. I'll marry her. I haven't slain you. You have. She won't buy your story."
"Oh, yes, she will." He dared to giggle a bit, even. "She'll see my dead body at your feet, with your sword in my body, and she'll hate your guts, you idiot."
"No, you're the only idiot here." Jon replied whispering calmly, but with mild anger. She hadn't fulfilled her promise. "'Cos she's here. She's heard it all. Seen it all."
"What?" King Robert asked dumbfounded.
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Chapter 21: The vision
And there she was, Marian, standing half hidden behind a cream-coloured marble column. She was wearing that strikingly beautiful light pink dress which had been haunting Jon's nightmares for days on end. It fitted her nice, slim figure perfectly. She had changed and rushed to the throne room instead of hiding in the gardens, as promised. She could be incredibly stubborn.
The sunrays were shining brightly on the glass panes of the throne room, providing a stark contrast with the darkness of the darkest areas of the throne room. The three of them were staring at each other in silence.
King Robert was hesitating. He didn't expect her only daughter to witness the sloppiest duel on his behalf of his entire life, and also the sloppiest attempt to make her believe in him. He remained quietly kneeling on the floor by the huge double doors made of glass which gave way to a large balcony.
As she came out from behind the pillar, she was frowning with both worry and anger.
"You wanted to poison our relationship." She eventually stated with contained anger.
"Marian, I can explain. I…" King Robert replied with worry, trying to make up an excuse.
His armour was starting to get soaked wet with his blood.
"I don't need explaining. I've seen and heard it all. You're… You're a nitwit." She said trying hard to contain her ire.
She didn't really know how to express all her thoughts. She had just witnessed her real father's true evil nature, and even when he was about to die he was trying to go on with it. She would not fall for it once more.
"Marian, my dear, I need to tell you…" He tried to go on.
"No, you don't need to tell me anything at all!" She yelled back at him, hating that evil man to the core. "You deserve to die knowing that I hate you! And not only that: apparently no one here cares about you: they all seem to either cope with your stupid demands or hate you in secret! And that's it. Jon here has given you the opportunity to live, and you've thrown that away because of your stupid pride! You thought you could fool me again! How dare you!? God, I hate you so fucking much!"
It was true, and King Robert knew it.
Silence reigned supreme in the throne room then. King Robert didn't dare to say anything further, and after a few seconds, he fell lifelessly on the floor. His eyes had become lifeless before he actually died, though. His daughter's hate had consumed his will to live completely. His corpse remained lying down on the marble floor with Jon's sword still stabbing his tender flesh. His blood kept spilling out of his body little by little, staining the floor in a large puddle of deep red thick liquid. Its raw, metallic scent was conquering the whole room bit by bit.
"This is it. It's over." Marian whispered sadly.
She went to a table where some maps and candles were, and then she lit some of those candles gently. Next, she put her hands together, as if she was praying. She stood there for some time, and then she just sighed in the end. It seemed fair to at least say a prayer for the poor old sinner, may he rest in peace then.
"I told you to stay out of trouble." Jon eventually said in a whisper full of worry while checking on his wounds. He was still bleeding, though not much.
The vision of the godswood was becoming true bit by bit, and Jon didn't like it one bit.
"Jon…" Marian's voice called out to him in a soft whisper, but she seemed worried. "I'm sorry."
At the beginning, there was only darkness, but the dim light of the candles she had lit slowly crept into the scene until Jon could spot Marian's gentle features once more. She came to him. Closer and closer. And when her face was close to his, she added whispering:
"Jon, you did it."
"Do what?" He softly whispered back quite innocently as he stared at her lips. "What do you mean?"
"This seat is now yours, and so is the crown." She added gently, getting a glimpse of the Iron Throne behind Jon. It made him turn around to see it. "The whole truth shall finally be known."
They stared blankly at the cold, big chair which was meant to be the throne.
"You should sit there." Marian told him.
"What? You mean… now?" He asked dumbfounded.
"I think you should get used to it." She added.
"People might surely come here any minute now." He said as an excuse.
"Then, I want to see those people come in and see you for who you were meant to be." Marian replied with genuine pride.
He was hesitating. Fate was driving him nuts, as much as it was driving his haunting vision to its foreseeable conclusion. He told himself he would not kill her, that no one or nothing could make him do so, be it human like Lord Tywin or supernatural like the godswood.
But he found himself walking towards the ominous chair as if he had no will of his own, as if the chair itself was some sort of magnet, and she was following him closely. Before he could turn around and invent some sort of lousy excuse for not sitting on the throne, he found himself sitting on it, and she was sitting on his lap immediately after that, with her legs parted on his. Her light pink summer dress with short sleeves made her look stunning. The weak light of the candles was cast on the scene. The sunlight was suddenly weak due to some idle clouds passing by.
The place seemed to be too quiet.
But then Marian leaned on his face and gently kissed Jon's lips.
Once. Twice. By the third time, they were shamelessly making out.
It felt a bit odd, making out right there and then, but soon he couldn't care less about the place they were anymore, or how fate was trying to ruin their lives. He deserved to let it go. He had been waiting for far too long. He wanted to feel her with more urgency than ever.
That was when he set the wolf in him free and took hold of her body with one hand and her nape with the other, deepening the kiss. It felt like the time Arya had been spying on them in the study room: it had been pride-spurring and easy, escalating from soft and nice to hard and demanding. And the more she led him on, the rougher he was. She just held onto his broad shoulders and well-built chest, chiselled thanks to his training in sword fighting and sparring through his teen years. The more she nibbled his lower lip, the more he was losing his mind.
The scene was getting heated up bit by bit.
They were not naked yet, but she softly began that good old rocking motion that ruled the biological world. At that moment, Jon would've died the happiest man that ever lived – until she decided to bring the next level on. With an unrivalled swiftness, somehow she got rid of her dress. The sleeves shamelessly fell down from her shoulders and gently slid down her arms, making the rest of the clothing fall apart – like Jon's self-control. Her exposed breasts were right in front of his face.
She sighed her worries away then and, when the air expelled from her lungs reached his skin, he felt suddenly released from any moral chains that could've held him down. In the blink of an eye, he lunged onto her breasts and held her tightly to him with one arm. She moaned softly as a reply. In the meantime, his free arm was busy unfastening his trousers. He knew that she was wet and ready for him. She smiled and gently hugged his head and began to play with his unruly curly hair.
He knew it was all part of the vision, but he was sure he could make the tables turn. He would never kill her.
"I'm… not… sorry, Marian." Jon whispered at her breasts, drunk by her overwhelming presence. He actually meant to say the opposite, that he was sorry, but he changed his mind as he had begun to speak.
"What for?" She whispered back.
"For this."
And he ruthlessly pushed his manhood into her. She cried one lonely cry, but she got still right afterwards. She briefly trembled and let her head fall down on his hair as a thin trail of blood emerged from her and fell down on the chair in tiny little drops…
… like the trail of blood that was slowly creeping into the dim daylight on the marble floor towards them. Former King Robert's blood.
Jon saw it. And then he remembered how that slowly-advancing pool of blood was driving him insane during the vision he had had. First it was just a small trail. The bleeding corpse was veiled by the darkness, and Jon looked straight at it, at the slowly-flowing blood, ignoring Marian's breasts for some precious seconds, knowing that the inevitable would soon happen.
In the meantime, Marian had recovered and began to rock her hips on his again. Sex felt like heaven to him, but he still felt the dread of what was to come. Between her gasps and moans, Jon saw how the small trail of blood slowly advanced towards them more and more, growing thicker and thicker, staining the lovely cream-coloured marble floor more and more. And the more he enjoyed fucking her, the more horrible the bloodstain on the floor became. He was feeling more and more uneasy.
Marian didn't seem to care: she was enjoying sex with wild abandonment even though there lay her real father's dead body. But she obviously didn't know a thing about Jon's vision.
"Jon, you did it…" Marian repeated her previous words, whispering freely between moans. "You're free… forever."
Out of nowhere, she took one of her good old daggers (he didn't know where she had taken it from), put it in his right hand, clasping her two hands around his, and next she aimed the tip at her delicate, porcelain-like neck, still holding his hand and the dagger – and then, when a drop of her own blood ran down the blade, she whispered:
"But you have to kill me, right?"
Jon gasped of horror.
That drop of her blood slipped down to stain his thumb, and then out of the blue Jon heard a very familiar dark voice coming from his right-side:
"Good job, Jon!" Lord Tywin said quite amused.
Jon immediately turned his head to his right to see him in a purely instinctive reaction. The wicked smile on the older man's face made Jon feel as if there were blocks of ice running in his bloodstream.
"I see you're fulfilling your promise." Lord Tywin went on. "Good! I missed the part in which you've slayed that fat old bull. Such a pity. Please, don't let me disturb you. Just... go on. I'm just gonna stand here and watch, if you don't mind, your highness. This is going to be fun."
Good God, that man was some sort of self-indulging voyeuristic git who loved the sound of his own voice. He could've just told Jon to slay Marian with a couple of words, but there he was: on and on he went, rambling leisurely about the whole thing. In spite of that, his mere presence had made the tension in the atmosphere escalate.
It was quite obvious that Lord Tywin had taken an active part in the fight down below: his sword was still drawn and blood dripped from the blade every now and then, staining the gloriously beautiful marble floor. He was sweating and seemed to be quite tired, but that had not prevented him from going up the stairs and hurry to check on whether Jon was fulfilling his part of the deal or not. He wanted the job done. As soon as possible. And he wanted to make sure Jon would not escape from his duty, of course.
"Go on, King Jon." Lord Tywin added with amusement while staring at the half-naked, young girl on Jon's lap. "It's your last requirement. Do it, and it will all be over for good."
Lord Tywin saw how Marian's grip on the hilt of the dagger increased, so much so that her hand started to shiver a little bit due to the tension. She was still staring into Jon's eyes when he stared back at her then.
Then, Lord Tywin started pacing around the throne room in a circle leisurely, never taking his eyes off the couple of youngsters on the throne. He went past the corpse of King Robert, but he didn't even look at him directly. He was scrutinizing each and every move Jon would make. Jon expected him to notice the dead old man at least, or to kick him, since he had hated his guts a great deal, but Lord Tywin didn't even lose one second of focus on the two young adults. He knew what he was doing. He would not tolerate any distraction.
Right when he was pacing behind Marian, she took the chance to breathlessly speak to Jon, hoping he'd read her lips properly:
"Play along with him." She seemed to say. "Fool him."
Jon got the message, but his heart rate did not slow down and his brain was in no condition to think fast and properly. He was no trickster: he was just a self-righteous fool, a gullible young man with predictable intentions. He was as transparent as water. Would he be able to fool Lord Tywin?
He just swallowed hard once.
In the meantime, Marian seemed tense, and it would make perfect sense to be so, but Jon wished he could be like her and anticipate his enemies' moves and aims at such a speed as she had just done right then with the dagger. She was the clever one. Getting hold of a dagger and putting it close to her throat had been a very bold move. And that bold move on her behalf might've bought them some time, but they would soon run out if Jon didn't do something, and quickly.
Hesitating like a fool, Jon didn't seem to make up his mind although he knew that the more he waited, the more suspicious it would look – and he could not afford that. He would have to keep the man talking, for example, so that he might buy some more time to think of what to do next.
"How's it going down below?" Jon asked then quite seriously. "Is everything under control? I take it that we've won."
"Indeed we have." Lord Tywin replied with deep satisfaction. "It's been tough, but my men like it tough."
"Any loss we should be worried about?" Jon went on, not feeling quite sure about whether or not he was fooling his interlocutor.
"None whatsoever." Lord Tywin replied quite formally, frowning a bit. "In case you want to know what they're doing right now, my men are tending to their wounds. Those who are in better shape are disposing of the enemies' corpses, which are quite a few. In a few hours' time, the palace should look nice and clean, free from the nauseating stink of death."
By that time, Lord Tywin had already made a complete circle around the two youngsters sitting on the throne and was pacing right behind Jon and the Iron Throne. That wasn't precisely what Jon had been looking for. And then he stopped and remained standing there. That way Lord Tywin was in a very safe position. He had all the advantage. If Jon decided to spring into action any soon, Lord Tywin would be able to anticipate any rash, suspicious movement on Jon's behalf. In addition, he would also be able to harm Marian if he wanted to. They were too close and too tense at that moment. The chess game was beginning to be really hard to play.
"By the way," Lord Tywin began speaking once more. "I took the liberty of beheading two traitors a few minutes ago. I hope you don't mind."
"Two traitors?" Jon asked. "Who were they?"
"Lady Amiss," Lord Tywin replied with a dark voice. "who betrayed my trust and offered sensitive information to a former associate of mine in exchange for sex." He made a crucial pause, chuckled and then went on thus: "And the other is Lord Baelish, my ex-associate. He was meant to be my eyes and ears in the royal palace, especially in terms of being responsible of Princess Marian's future murder, but he fancied my lands and my fortune, and wanted to betray me by supporting King Robert and accusing me of treason. So as you may imagine, I enjoyed killing him a great deal. I hate being toyed with… or betrayed." He concluded menacingly.
Jon and Marian swallowed hard. They were going to betray him too.
Jon started to bite his lower lip when Marian went on breathlessly like before:
"Do something. Quick."
All of a sudden, Lord Tywin started groaning with vivid ache, coarsely, over and over again, as if he was being stabbed several times. The sound of both his armour and his flesh being forced upon and ripped repeated itself a few times. Both Jon and Marian gasped because they didn't expect such a combination of strange sounds.
Then, the sound of Lord Tywin's knees hitting the ground against his will could be heard echoing in the throne room ominously and coldly.
Both Jon and Marian got startled, and they dropped the dagger and stood up immediately to see what was going on. Jon could swiftly button his pants, and Marian started to dress properly again as she stood behind Jon.
Was there another enemy that need to be fought against?
Then, Lord Tywin started throwing up lots of blood onto the marble floor, and soon after that he finally fell flatly on it. His eyes were immediately shot towards a bewildered Jon, standing in front of him, shielding Marian behind him.
But Jon was not staring back at him – he was staring at the person who had stabbed Lord Tywin at least six or seven times on his back:
"You owe me twice now, kid." A familiar voice said.
Jon had not heard the little man's voice in quite a while, and he honestly thought he would never see him again: it was Tyrion!
"Tyrion!" Jon exclaimed astounded.
Tyrion Lannister was well-known in the country for being the smartest and sneakiest (and shortest) son of a bitch that ever lived, and he would make sure that his legend lived at least as long as his life.
"Yep, it's me again." Tyrion replied with a proud smile, and then he winked one eye at Jon.
"I thought you had gone to Qarth never to come back!" Jon exclaimed. "You had been exiled!"
"You… bas…tard!" Lord Tywin was able to exclaim then, although he was in a really bad shape. He was not dead yet, but he would be soon enough. Blood was dripping from the corner of his lips as he had spoken.
"And that's why I've stabbed you, father." Tyrion replied with badly-repressed anger. His ire drew deep wrinkles on his face. "Because you never wanted me although it's always been obvious that I was the only son who was worthy of bearing your surname. Tell me, father, haven't I been respectful to you all these years? Weren't my late sister Cersei and my late brother Jaime two conceited idiots? Yes, they were! Yet you favoured them every single time just because they were good-looking, normal people, while I look like a little kid grown old. I'm not as normal as you wanted me to be, am I?! My mother might've been unfaithful to you, yes! I'm highly probably a bastard, but that's not my business. That's your problem. Being a bastard doesn't mean I didn't deserve a better treatment on your behalf. I've always been loyal and a good son to you, but you never valued me or anything I have ever done! You deserve what you get!"
"I'll live long enough to see you dead, bastard…" Lord Tywin dared to reply even though he was wasting energy in doing so.
He was trying to stand up, but it was proving to be a hard job to do. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably as he was trying to lift himself from the ground.
"Nah, you won't." Tyrion replied with a high-pitched voice, feeling tired but playful.
And that was when Tyrion stabbed his own father hard and heavy once more, but this time on his heart. He died instantly. His head lolled for a couple of seconds, and later it rested peacefully and lifelessly on the marble floor.
"Sorry about all the blood, Jon."
And then Tyrion sighed, staring at the two dumbfounded young adults standing in front of him.
"In case you're wondering where I stand on all this mess…" Tyrion said then to the two baffled youngsters. "I support your cause, but I do very unlike my father. Do you know he wanted to use you like a puppet?"
"What are you talking about?!"
"You'll see in a minute." Tyrion began explaining. "My story goes back as my father's hatred towards me. I've always wanted to kill him. Well, first I tried to make him like me, but…" He added trying to obtain their sympathy. "… but seeing that that would never happen, I decided to make up a plan to see him dead. Jon…" Tyrion coughed once then. "Sorry, I meant King Jon... My father knew who you were. I spied on him. I admit I had my doubts back then, but then again I had never met you in person. Remember when King Robert was mad at us the last day we were in Winterfell? I could've made myself scarce for good back then, when the king decided to banish me. I could've told the whole truth about you and Marian and just leave. But I didn't. I had no actual need to tell on you to former King Robert. It wasn't part of my plan to get rid of my father… and to save you."
"Save me? But… you played along… You told him what had happened." Jon replied with care knowing that Tyrion displayed a clear predisposition to explain himself quite straightforwardly. He didn't want to ruin it. But then he added: "Well, partially."
"Exactly." Tyrion confirmed it with a naughty smile. "Partially."
"Wait a minute." Marian interrupted. "What are you talking about?"
"Princess Marian, let me explain." Tyrion added. "You were not there at that time. You had escaped from Winterfell before Jon and I had been apprehended. Let me tell you what happened. You'll see in a minute." He said gracefully and gently to her natural question. "Jon had been taken to King Robert's chambers to be judged and sentenced to the Wall, and I was meant to be executed, but I saw a great opportunity there. You were meant to be king, your highness, but I couldn't let my father take advantage from you. You're far too good a person, so unlike him. I saw it from the very beginning. I could've made myself scarce by simply escaping to Qarth, or told a blatant lie to save my ass when former King Robert's soldiers apprehended me for treason like my brother and sister, but I had had a better idea than my original plan: I'd confess what I had seen the two of you do in the stables the previous night, partially, so that the king would be happy for my help and so that you'd be the only person to wonder what the hell I was doing by withholding important information from the king. I spared my glorious behind, and you were not executed or flogged, just exiled."
"If King Robert had known I almost had sex with you, he would've beheaded me." Jon added sadly.
"For sure. But the king didn't even suspect that both of you almost had sex that night, did he?" He chuckled once already knowing the answer. "No one could've told him that but me. I was the only one there who could've told him. At that time, didn't you wonder why I didn't tell him about it, King Jon?"
"I did, yes, but you were taken away, and I didn't have the slightest chance to ask you." Jon replied genuinely curious. "I could never get to you. Somehow I knew I owed you one, but I never knew why."
"Yes, it was the only way to let you know I was on your side, since I could not tell you face to face." Tyrion admitted with a gentle smile on his face. "By partially telling on you, I knew that the king would automatically send you away to the Wall. He would hate you, obviously, but that way you'd be safer. Other people would calm his thirst for blood, namely my brother and sister. I could not tell you directly back then. If I had, if I had told you I knew it or what my original plan was, and if anyone had heard us talk, it could've been considered treason too. I could not afford that. None of us would've been safe." Tyrion added seriously. "And, you know, there are spies everywhere these days. I've known former King Robert's and Lord Baelish's methods for a long time, believe me. I had to be extra careful." He sighed once then. "But anyway, you might wonder what's this all about. Ever since I first saw you, your highness, I started to see that my father was right about you. Your facial features are very Stark and very Targaryen, an impossible mix since King Robert had allegedly killed every single Targaryen left in the world." The look in his eyes was becoming intense and proud. "The time I spent in Winterfell was almost entirely devoted to satisfy that bothering curiosity bug I had in me. I wanted proof." He added with genuine interest. "And a few hours later I knew. I realised I could not deny who you are. I found documents and such, which I let my father have in his possession on purpose a bit later, although he never knew who had actually found them and given them to him." He chuckled once more, knowing he was a smart player in that rogue world. "I just gave them to one of his spies and paid him a great deal of money to make himself scarce. You are former King Rhaegar's only son, and I knew my father would automatically favour you and try to dethrone King Robert if he could have proof of the truth of your legacy. He held too many grudges against former King Robert, and the deaths of his good-looking son and daughter inspired him to start planning the dirty deed against him. You, King Jon, would easily become the ace up his sleeve in his master plan." He smiled warmly at Jon then, but he went on with a rather amused tone of voice: "But my father was as mean and brutal as the former king. They were quite alike, you know. He would've betrayed you the second you had done or said anything that might have bothered him." He chuckled once more. "Like loving Marian, for example. When good old King Robert decided to behead his offspring just because my sister and my brother had been incestuous with one another, my father must've burst in anger. He wanted him dead, the sooner the better." He briefly shook his head. "So, in the end, it was more than suitable to my father (and to me, of course) that I'd be punished-slash-rewarded with exile by the king. I'd vanish. My father thought he would never see me again, which was what he had always wanted because he thought I was an unworthy bastard, and that fact precisely allowed me to come back whenever I wanted and slay him when his guard was obviously down, right when he thought he was going to have it all. And yet he was about to lose the most important thing one can treasure: his own life. How ironic!"
Tyrion laughed a bit then, but a few seconds later he went on with a much more serious tone of voice:
"I know how it feels to be treated meanly by those around you, King Jon." He went on with sad eyes. "I know how bad it feels being a bastard. Like you. The only difference between you and me is that you never actually were a bastard, although everyone around you assumed you were. But I understand you very well. Always trying to do the right thing, be polite and all that shit… No one ever treated you right, huh? Everyone treats bastards meanly. I get it, I get that forlorn look in your eyes… I'm on your side."
Jon's face when he was listening to Tyrion's tale displayed how impressed he was by his boldness and also the sadness it entailed. He remembered how mean 'normal' people could be to those who are perceived as 'different'. Tyrion's life as a kid and teenager might've not been very different from his.
"I fooled my father." Tyrion went on. "I made him contact you, to support you, to spare you from the destiny that former King Robert had devised for you. That way you could come back to King's Landing and live the life you actually deserve. I knew my father would eventually come to you to make sure you did what you had been told to do, namely, kill the person you loved. I knew he would be here, preying on both of you. Ever since that night in which I accidentally spied on you in Winterfell and in which all the truth was unveiled, I've been bewitched by your tragedy: the son of former King Rhaegar was in love with King Robert's only daughter! And you didn't even know about it! But I did." Tyrion's eyes glowed, thrilled by the power of their story, of their personal heaven and hell. "I'm on your side, King Jon. I've always been and, if you let me, I'll always be."
The dagger that Tyrion had in his hand eventually was dropped and made a loud clang when it hit the floor.
"Well, then." Tyrion concluded with a sigh. "It's over now."
"I'm… I'm baffled." Marian said whispering. "I didn't know that that had happened that way."
"The lords and ladies in this country are very tricky people." Tyrion replied gently to her. "But I assume you've already learnt that lesson recently, am I wrong?"
She just nodded lightly.
"Like Lord Baelish, for example. He's been murdered by my father a few minutes ago. After he had made him murder Lady Amiss."
"What?!" Both young adults exclaimed.
"My father was very power-hungry and… not very gentle. Anyway," Tyrion concluded with another sigh. He seemed to be more at ease then. "it's all over now."
"What will you do now, Tyrion?" Jon asked him with curiosity. "Have you got any plans for the future?"
"Well, I was hoping you'd let me stay in the country." Tyrion replied casually. "Qarth seems to be a very dangerous place nowadays, you know."
"Why is that?" Marian asked frowning.
"Well, there's a nasty illness roaming freely in the city. It has no treatment, no meds will work apparently. The second I knew about it, I got on board the first ship I saw, as fast as I could. The people were freaking out like crazy. It's like a plague or something!"
Both Jon and Marian swallowed hard and looked briefly at each other.
"What?" Tyrion asked. He was quite savvy, he knew something was the matter. "Don't tell me you know about it!?"
"Indeed we do." Jon sighed and frowned.
"You do?" Tyrion insisted.
"I know about it." Marian replied immediately. "A few months ago I came here to try and find help to fight against it, since my adoptive father was suffering from it. During my stay in Winterfell, I was able to find the proper ingredients to develop a cure, which seems to work. But I haven't been able to test it until very recently, and I've only got one flask. Well, half of it now." She admitted feeling sad. "Apparently, this illness has leaped over the sea and come here."
"What?!" Tyrion exclaimed amazed.
"Now that this power-game is officially over," Marian went on. "I'd like to go on producing vast quantities of it, since it's obvious that we're going to need it badly… and soon." She added seriously.
"I agree." Jon replied frowning.
"You should make an official announcement, King Jon." Tyrion suggested with a great urge. "You should announce that the war is over, you should get crowned and married to her as soon as possible," That comment made both Marian and Jon blush. "and then give orders to all the doctors and physicians in the country to help future Queen Marian develop her medical plan to stop this madness. Make the formula for the remedy public, so that everybody knows about it."
"You're right, Tyrion." Marian replied while Jon nodded. "We need to act as soon as possible, like you're saying."
"But anyway, I wouldn't rush it, you know. There's still time." Tyrion added after sighing once, smiling and getting closer to the main door of the throne room. "I'm sure no one will miss the two of you for… let's say, an hour or so. Marian should tend yo your wounds, right? And then… You need some time… alone… the two of you, don't you? No one in my position would ever try to convince you of not committing the same mistake twice."
"What mistake?" Jon asked not knowing what he was referring to.
"Not making love to her, you idiot – but I hope you forgive my colloquial use of the language, your highness." Tyrion replied feeling naughty. He winked once at both Marian and Jon as he turned around to open the door and exit. But before he closed the door again, he added: "Now get on with it already!"
Marian and Jon stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then they stared back at Tyrion, who was dragging good old King Robert's body outside of the throne room, and they were blushing like never before.
"Do I have to spell it to you?!" He replied with mild exasperation. "You were already doi-… I mean…" He coughed twice. "Everything else can wait for some more minutes, can't it? I shall guard this door, don't worry. And,… by the way, now you owe me thrice for this, kid."
And then, he just closed the door with a wicked smile on his lips.
"So," Marian concluded feeling quite embarrassed. "basically he's seen the whole thing, hasn't he?"
Jon could only nod mildly. His cheeks were aflame with an unbearable mix of shame and desire, and Marian saw it as she stared at him for some seconds.
"You know, he's… right." Marian whispered sweetly to Jon then. "Everything can wait for a bit, can't it?"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hello, my dear readers!
THIS IS IT. We're getting near the end! I love it when Tyrion appears.
So… how's it going to end? Will Marian be able to save everybody, including a sick Robb who still doesn't know he's got that fatal illness? But let's be brutally honest, shall we?
THE KEY QUESTION IS – obviously – ARE JON AND MARIAN GETTING IT ON AT LOOOOONG LAST?! ?! ?! ?! ?! ?! ?! I know… I know… It's taken, like, forever. That was my evil plan all along. ;3
Stay tuned for the moment you've been waiting for from chapter 1!
Aaaaand don't forget to review/comment! :)
XOXO
Denim Jean