Okay, there's a lot going on in this chapter, I know, which probably accounts for its length. Seems like I've been stuck on long chapters lately :)
Aside from the great tragedy that occurrs at the end, this is also the chapter where Jaime reappears back into Gabrielle's life and I daresay Dark Alana knows what this chapter is about. After all, the shoutout goes to her for helping me come up with this idea. Thanks girl, you really helped me out, uv ya bunches :)
Okay, so enjoy the chapter - you might need tissues - and review me with your tears, comments, cusswords, I don't care :)
- Nagiana
Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .
When Gabrielle first heard the news that Jaime Lannister was returning to Winterfell with the King and Queen's court, she had wanted to faint.
She had wanted to do many things.
Much of her time before the procession could actually be seen rumbling down the road, was spent praying in front of the Godswood. She prayed for strength against Jaime Lannister's charming grin and heated touches. She prayed for guidance in these trying times, but most of all, for the health of her children, Nate, Lark and Ned.
Jaime Lannister's POV . . .
She had been in the Godswood with her children the day that Jaime and the courtly procession reached Winterfell. He had found her there, as he knew she would be there.
He entered the Godswood, the gate swinging smoothly open, not a creak in sight. He was glad the dratted direwolf was not with, but stood there for a moment watching the two twins running around the manicured wood, laughing and chasing each other. The boy (Nathaniel, was it?) had a wooden sword strapped to his hip that dragged the ground when he ran and bounced against his leg as well.
He gently closed the gate behind him and coughed. The cough was barely noticeable, but Gabrielle and the children noticed nonetheless, and turned around. Gabrielle's face paled when she saw him; not exactly the reaction he wanted.
He did not immediately greet Gabrielle, however. He grinned and moved over to the children, where he bent down in front of them. Lark hid behind Nate peeking out at him from behind her brother. The boy gazed at him suspiciously, almost as if Jaime was a rabid dog ready to bite at the least provocation. Jaime did neither, however. He merely gestured to the wooden sword strapped to the young boy's hips.
"That's a nice sword you have there . . . do you train with it?" Nate nodded, his hand moving to slowly rest on its hilt, the way he had seen his father, grandfather and Ser Jory do.
"It's not that nice . . . it's only wooden." He spoke, and Jaime nodded.
"I daresay you'll have a nicer sword when you're older, right?" He asked, and Nate nodded again.
"Yes, I will. My grandfather already promised me that I would inherit his sword from my father when they died. Its name is Ice. Its Valyrian made." Jaime nodded again, more impressed this time. So Ned Stark had promised the son of his own bastard that he would inherit the sword of Winterfell, even over his own legitimate son. He glanced at Gabrielle at Nate's words, in order to garner her own reaction, but the beautiful Dothraki woman only sat there gazing at them, her face expressionless. He didn't know what he had expected. If her husband's family was indeed scheming to snatch the throne out from underneath her half-brother-in-law, she certainly wouldn't tell him.
"I've seen that sword. It's very nicely made. Mine . . . mine is simply steel." He told him, patting the hilt of his own sword strapped to his hip and Nate nodded.
"May . . . May I see it -?"
"Nate!"
Jaime's eyes danced back to Gabrielle. Her words had cut through her son's like butter, effectively silencing her son, who looked bashfully down at the ground. Gabrielle smiled tightly and swallowed heavily. "I mean . . . it's getting late. Father and grandfather are probably wondering where we are . . ." She said, and for the first time, Jaime noticed the slightly struggling bundle in her arms.
It was a baby.
Without being overtly obvious, Jaime craned his neck slightly in order to see if the child had golden hair . . . golden hair like Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. But no, the baby had the black hair of Jon Snow and Gabrielle. He felt himself become slightly crestfallen. It was too much to ask for . . . for the baby to be his.
Gabrielle stood and immediately, Maharet seemed to appear as if from the wall work. She took the two children by the hand and led them from the Godswood, shooting a look at Gabrielle as they left. Gabrielle nodded and turned back to Jaime, bouncing Ned gently in her arms.
Jaime waited until the gate swung shut behind Maharet and the children, before he spoke.
"How are you doing?" Gabrielle shrugged slightly at his words.
"Good, I suppose. Have you met Gwyneth yet?"
"Is she Robb's new paramour?"
"She's more than his paramour, Jaime . . . she's his wife?"
A look of surprise appeared on Jaime's face. "That young thing is the newest Lady Stark?" Gabrielle nodded and Jaime laughed and shook his head. "Lucky bastard, I suppose. She's comely enough."
"She's 'comely enough'?"
"I meant that because . . . you're prettier." He told her quietly, and a shiver went down Gabrielle's spine at his words.
"Still as impertinent as ever, I see . . ." She spoke, a tad teasingly, and he smiled as he stepped closer in order to gaze down at the baby. She didn't stop him, and immediately, he realized that one would be an utter fool to think his baby anything but the son of Jon Snow. Even as a baby, he looked the spitting image of the bastard, even more-so than Nathaniel did, although if you asked Jaime, the twins had inherited more of their mother's Dothraki looks.
"He's beautiful . . ." Jaime spoke quietly, and Gabrielle smiled as she stepped away a little.
"Thank you . . . we get that a lot."
"What is his name?"
"Ned. He's named after his grandfather . . . Eddard Snow."
"From what I'm hearing, it might be Eddard Stark soon."
"There is no truth to those rumors -"
"Is there?" He inquired, an eyebrow rising in amusement. "There is always a little truth to every rumor, Gabrielle love. I just think there's more truth in this one than any other. It would make sense for the mother of a bastard who was despised growing up, that she would wish her son to inherit everything. She might seem to have good intentions, but I would not be surprised if Whylla Martell had an ulterior motive. She was, after all, a whore -" Gabrielle's eyes snapped on Jaime's fury alighting their brown depths.
"You know nothing of Whylla!" She snapped at him. "She is a wonderful woman who has done nothing but good for us! Ned loves her and trusts her – Jon loves her and trusts her! Why shouldn't I?"
Jaime chuckled as he looked down at his feet for a moment. He turned his eyes back onto Gabrielle. "I know more about Whylla Martell than most. I certainly know more about her than Ned or your husband does." He told her and Gabrielle gazed at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face for any signs of lying. She didn't find any and weren't surprised. Jaime had ever lied with her . . . not once.
She shook her head. "How do I know you're not lying Jaime?" She inquired, and Jaime shrugged.
"You don't, love."
Gabrielle gazed at him for another moment. "Tell me about her . . . I want to know everything. I want to know anything and everything about my husband's mother . . . everything in order to protect him." Jaime tsked and shook his head.
"What do I get in exchange?"
Gabrielle gave him a look of disgust and let out a disgusted sound as she turned away. "Do not mistake me for someone who would sell herself!" She snapped and moved to walk away, but Jaime gently grabbed her upper arm.
"I was teasing," He told her quietly. "I would never, ever say that about you. I have grown to love you greatly over this last year and a half, even though we said no emotions would get involved. Hell, I hardly had a life back in King's Landing! I could not stop thinking about you!"
He could tell her words kept her from walking even closer to the gate, and she slowly turned around. "I told you to leave me alone." She told him, her voice shaky, and Jaime shook his head.
"Do you honestly expect me to abide by those words?" He asked. "I've never been one to fallow rules, nor by the pretty face of a woman, but by the Seven, Gabrielle . . . did you have me at hello!" He saw Gabrielle swallow heavily.
"I just . . . I want to know about Whylla. Despite everything, you are right . . . there is something off about her. I want to protect my family, and even though I know I shouldn't, I trust you, Jaime. Please, tell me everything!" She begged him, and Jaime stood there for a moment, thinking.
"Meet me alone this afternoon in the broken tower. We'll have peace there, which is what we need. What I have to say should not be said within hearing distance of anyone else . . . especially anyone who is close to the woman." Gabrielle nodded and moved to go, but then paused. Then, as if the motion would shock her, she stood on her tip-toes, placed a hand on his chest and then planted a light, almost loving kiss on Jaime's handsomely chiseled cheek.
"Thanks Jaime . . ." She trailed off, acting as if she wanted to say something else, but then thought better of it and moved off in the direction of the gate, hunching over Ned in order to shield him from the cold.
Even though the wind was biting cold, Jaime was warm.
Bran Stark's POV . . .
Bran Stark loved to climb.
It was his greatest love really. High above the world, on top of the roofs of Winterfell, Bran felt like he was weightless, almost as if he was flying. Birds would twitter past him, so close sometimes that their dainty wings would brush his cheek, feather light kisses that would make him smile and grin.
However, today, Bran didn't know what he wanted to climb. He had climbed the library tower many times, as well as the other buildings in Winterfell, always out of sight of the guards and his family, but always within sight of Summer. The direwolf would lope along on the ground beside them, panting and whining when he would lose sight of the boy. He hated it when Bran climbed. He couldn't protect him when separated by feet and feet of solid brick and rock walls.
After a moment of contemplation on top of the library tower on what he wanted to climb next, he spied it across the courtyard. There was a crumbling tower not far off that was a very fun thing to climb. Footholds were hard to come by, and many times a gargoyle was the only solid thing keeping you from plummeting to a very nasty death.
Bran grinned and leaned over, where he whistled down to the direwolf panting underneath him, spread out on the cobblestoned pathway. He immediately leapt to his feet and barked, telling Bran that he would be on his heels, no matter where he went.
Bran immediately began making his way to the crumbling tower across the way, climbing up and down walls and vines, finding footholds in crumbling rock and smooth stones where just a lip was peeking over the edge. Twice he slipped and fell, but grabbed another foothold at the last split second.
When he finally reached the crumbling tower, he paused and took a breath, feeling proud of himself. That was a tough undertaking and he had made it, despite almost falling twice. He glanced down to make sure Summer was still fallowing and after seeing that he was, Bran began the long climb up the tower to the open window at the top.
With the heavy use of the gargoyles, Bran made a quick climb to the top, but paused every now and then when he thought he heard the sounds of voices. After pausing for a moment and chalking it up to the wind whistling past him, he continued on his way.
He continued climbing but it steadily became clear to him that the voices were not the wind and was indeed, voices. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he scrambled onto a gargoyle and sat there for a moment. The tower was crumbling badly in places, making the ascent to the top room a very hard trek. Who could possibly be in the tower at this time of day?
After allowing his curiosity to get the better of him and realizing that he just had to see who was up in the tower, Bran scrambled from gargoyle to gargoyle, growing closer and closer to the open window and the voices as he went. It was a male and female, he deciphered, and they appeared to be arguing.
After almost losing grip on the last gargoyle, he was finally close enough to the window to make out fully their voices. Instead of arguing now, the sounds of muffled moans could be heard, causing Bran to furrow his eyebrows in confusion again.
I have got to get closer . . . Bran thought and inched his head around the corner of the windowsill, gasping upon what he saw.
The man and woman was locked in a fevered embrace against the wall, one golden haired as the sun and the other with hair as black as night. Bran didn't know who they were but when the man shifted his lips down to latch onto her neck, bringing the woman's face into view, Bran let out a clearly audible gasp that had the woman screaming as soon as she set eyes onto Bran.
Gabrielle was in the fevered embrace of Jaime Lannister!
Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .
Gabrielle knew she shouldn't be meeting Jaime alone in the crumbling tower, but really, she didn't have a choice. If Jaime had information on Whylla, then Gabrielle needed to know. Jon deserved the truth and if getting it required she go through the one man she never wanted to see again, then so be it.
"You promised you would tell me if I came here." She reminded him testily, and Jaime nodded as she pushed himself off of the stone wall he was leaning against, and moved over to her.
"I did, didn't I?" He asked. "What do you want to know?"
"I told you that. I want to know everything." Jaime chuckled.
"That's a lot, Gabrielle . . . just to let you know." Gabrielle looked down.
"Start with the basics. Is she really Jon's mother?"
"Oh, she's Jon's mother. There's no mistaking that. If she wasn't, then explain how Ned is so smitten with her." Gabrielle nodded, wanting to kick herself. Of course she was really Jon's mother, how could she have asked such a stupid question?
Jaime moved over to her, where he gently smoothed a hand over her cheek. Gabrielle swatted his hand away. "Get away from me!" She snapped and a look of slight hurt appeared on Jaime's face. It was a look of genuine hurt, not the playful hurt he had used on her before.
"Do you hate me this much?" He asked her quietly, and Gabrielle looked down at the floor, a slight pang of guilt shooting through her body at his words. Did she really hate him? Or did her feelings put her in denial? "Do you so much that my touch repulses you?" He added, and Gabrielle shook her head.
"You don't repulse me, Jaime. It's just . . . I'm married!"
It was a futile excuse and she knew it. It echoed in Jaime's eyes and this time, when he smoothed his hand over her cheek, she didn't move away or snap at him. "That didn't stop you before . . ." He told her, still quietly, and Gabrielle swallowed heavily.
"It should stop me now . . ." She replied, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion.
"Is it?" Gabrielle shook her head as she stepped closer to him, her hands moving to frame his face, to pull him down to her, their lips moving together in an intimate dance that seemed only Jaime and she had possessed.
They kissed for a moment, their tongues entwining and finally, Jaime sated his need to bury his hands in the rich abundance of her midnight colored locks. He pulled her closer to him, pulling her tighter against him, and they broke apart moments later, Gabrielle's eyes connecting with his, to drown in his blue depths.
"I missed you . . ." She murmured and Jaime nodded.
"I missed you so much, I ached . . ." He replied, and Gabrielle grinned again as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him again, reveling in the feeling of him undoing the cords of her dress behind her, of the warmth of his hands when he finished that chore and instead, pulled her to him even more.
They broke apart then, Gabrielle holding him close. He did, reveling in just being with her. "Jaime . . . I . . . I want to take me . . ." She murmured, blush furiously tingeing her cheeks and Jaime grinned and nodded.
Their lips connected, her hands pushed him to pin him with love, to mount him against the wall.
Even now, as he impaled her with slow heavy thrusts that sank deep into her body until she didn't know where she ended and where he began, making spears of pleasure dart up throughout her body, she couldn't chase the thought that maybe . . . maybe Jaime did care for her after all. It was silly of her, of course; Jaime at first had seemed to only care about his gains and his goals, but . . . this seemed differently. Jaime surely had better things to do, places to be, and yet . . . here they were. Here they were sweating and panting and grasping with their hands what they could not with their hearts. Gabrielle splayed her hands out on his chest as she threw her head back against the wall in ecstasy, wishing that time would stop . . .
Until her eyes fell onto the window and she saw who was watching them.
She wanted to scream. She thought she did scream.
She felt her entire life flash before her eyes as Jaime quickly withdrew from her and after quickly righting himself, crossed the room to the window in two long strides. He grabbed the shirt of the culprit before Bran could escape, and brought him fully into view as Gabrielle slid down the stone wall, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What are you doing here?" Jaime demanded, and Bran stuttered a response, his eyes glued onto Gabrielle.
"I-I-I was climbing . . ."
Jaime glanced at Gabrielle. "Do you know him?"
Gabrielle nodded. "He's-He's Bran . . . Jon's little half-brother. Jaime, I don't . . ." She trailed off, holding back a sob, and Jaime sighed and shook his head.
"The things I do for love . . ."
Gabrielle remembered screaming for her very life as Jaime pushed Bran out the window. She remembered getting up and shoving him aside in her mad haste to window, to the slight, split-second chance that she could maybe catch him before he hit the ground.
The only thing she saw, however, was the broken body of Bran underneath the window, his eyes closed and his direwolf whining and nudging at his master as a pool of blood slowly spread underneath the little boy's body.
Gabrielle remembered the tears that spread down her cheeks at the sight . . . at the flashes of her now ruined life flashing before her eyes . . . and all for one useless fuck.