Previously on Player of the Games: The wildlings take refuge in the wall from the attack of the White Walkers. Jon meets Nathalia's sister, Natasha.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES.
Chapter 14: Alliances
*Nathalia*
Nathalia hasn't seen her family for so long that she has to think really hard to remember what they look like. Seeing Natasha…it brings memories in her—both pleasurable and drastic. She remembers the stories of the other guardians when it came to her parent's affair. Their story started when they were sent to Westeros. It was a matter of convenience. Both her parents were lonely and homesick from their kingdom that they used each other for comfort. Feelings came later on. Nathalia always had romantic notions that she, too, would find love with a fellow guardian while she is in the Seven Kingdoms. Well it almost happened. Almost.
Nathalia shakes her head, focusing on the person in front of her. The person that is her sister. Natasha hasn't changed in the many moons since she last saw her. They could almost pass as twins if it wasn't for the fact that Natasha had inherited their mother's pale blue eyes. Nathalia had been the first of the two sisters to guard Westeros—a fact that she uses as a reminder when her sister got too cocky. It is years before they see each other again in the free cities. Keeping her word to her coven, Nathalia reluctantly parted with her since they both had different goals. While Nathalia is keener on battle tactics, Natasha has taken it upon herself to gather as much secrets as she would like to be used as leverage. She is known, but not as famous as Nathalia. Guardians call her the 'whisperer' since she is the main source of information.
Perhaps this is the reason why Natasha chose to pose as a whore. Whores have the advantage of heightened men to get secrets from. A man would do anything a woman wants if he is taken to extreme pleasure by her body. A great plan by Natasha. She has certainly learned in her time.
Nathalia ignores the groaning coming from the fat man on the bed and focuses on introducing Jon to Natasha. She watches as Natasha sizes the bastard and sends her a short look of approval.
"What happened to him?" Jon asks, pointing a thumb in the fat man's direction.
Natasha shrugs, "A bit of some potion I got from Grand Maester Pycelle. I have that old man by the balls" She winks, disappearing behind a small screen. The quiet laugh that follows is enough for Nathalia to know that the Grand Maester must be hiding something.
A small smile emerges from Nathalia's face when she sees Jon raise an eyebrow at her sister's crass words. Her sister can be quite scandalous when it comes to her language—a trait that has been passed by their father.
"Why are you here in King's Landing?" Her sister's voice is ruffled, indicating that she is changing into one of her gowns. Nathalia prays to the gods that the gown would at least be decent for her plan.
"Ned Stark" Is her only reply. Nathalia looks around the large room, wondering why Baelish would allow such activities inside his 'business'. Surely he would have something to gain from the other guardians if he is willing to negotiate with her sister to operate on their missions using his customers. Other than that, why would he provide such a room if Natasha could accomplish her duties in just a small space? Her eyebrows furrow in annoyance to her many questions. If there is one thing that Nathalia hates, it would be being kept in the dark from many secrets.
"You were too late, Thalia" Her sister emerges in a rose-colored gown—mildly decent and could probably get her inside the castle—and strolls across the room, sitting in a chair in front of a large mirror. She picks up a small brush a starts combing her luscious dark locks.
"We know" She replies, giving emphasis that she has a companion.
Natasha gets the hint, "Why did you bring him?—Jon, is it?"
Jon nods in confirmation.
"Alessandra is taking care of things on the wall" Her sister's reflection raises an eyebrow. She knows how much the two ladies hate to be without each other's company. "Besides, Jon volunteered—he's Ned Stark's bastard"
"Ned Stark has a bastard?" Her brush emits a small clang as it hits the floor. Natasha is quick to react and grabs the item immediately.
"Yes—he does" Nathalia gives her voice an edge, a small indication of warning that Ned Stark's secret from his family has died with him.
For a moment, the company stays silent. Only the loud moans of the fat man still on the verge of climax. He's probably too lost in the pleasure that he doesn't hear their conversation—Nathalia hopes.
"I'm sorry, Jon Snow" Natasha says, standing up. In moments like this, Nathalia often wishes that she had her sister's piercing eyes. They have a way of expressing emotion with a single look—a talent that took Nathalia some time to master.
Jon sends her sister a bitter smile, one that seems foreign on his usually indifferent persona. It doesn't take much of a second for Nathalia to understand that Jon hates being pitied. More now than ever. She wonders how he could stay sane after witnessing his father's murder. Perhaps, she thought, Jon is keeping everything inside of him. Having a new quest to make him reveal what he thinks, Nathalia takes his cold hand, clasping their fingers together like two pieces of a puzzle. She doesn't take notice of the way her sister raised both brows at the sudden gesture. Jon squeezes her hand, a silent promise hidden with a very small action.
She places a hand on his chest, giving it a few circular traces, before speaking to her sister. "I am here to ask for your help"
Her sister's eyes widen in surprise, "You never ask for my help"
"Well now I am"
A heavy sigh escapes from the younger one's mouth. "What do you need me for, Nathalia?"
"Sansa Stark chooses to stay in King's Landing" Jon tenses beneath her hold. He must still disapprove of the decision made by his little sister.
"That was not very smart of her" Her sister clicks her tongue, clenching her jaw.
"Well she's under the impression that she could help me with Cersei Lannister" She says, suddenly noticing how foolish the idea seemed even coming from her mouth. "That's why she needs someone to watch her"
A bubble of laughter escapes the blue-eyed girl. "And you chose me?" She blows a large breath when Nathalia nodded. "Well fuck me"
*Alessandra*
The aura of awkwardness started when it was announced that the wildlings have been welcomed to take shelter on the wall. Both parties have no idea on how to act around each other. The Lord Commander, as soon as the announcement was made, retired in his bedchambers—no doubt feeling the horrors that will soon come upon them at the White Walker's attacks. This left Alessandra standing on the small balcony that gives a smart view of the whole Castle Black.
Curious glances are exchanged. Harsh, uncertain glances are thrown in the wildling's direction. The latter decide to spend their first moments on the wall huddled in a small group, just a few feet away from the steel gates. Only one man seems to be making an effort to keep their guests comfortable. Sam, may the gods bless his heart, is seen offering some broth to the wildlings. Alessandra is near enough to hear him chuckle nervously and stumble on his assurance that the broth is not poisoned. Seeing nothing threatening on the fat boy, the wildlings eagerly take the bowls of steaming food. Judging from the way that they took large gulps that would probably burn their tongue, they had no time to stop and nourish themselves on the way to the wall. Alessandra's pity overcomes her passive face. As much as the intentions of the wildlings to take back Westeros are foolish and incompetent, they do not deserve to watch their loved ones die in the hands of such dark creatures.
Alessandra has only fought with the white walkers twice. Both times resulted in ugly gashes on her silky skin. They learn to attack only in the night. The dark, foggy state of the forests is used to their advantage. Their skin, as white as the moon, sends an icy shock in a person's body during direct contact—giving the monsters enough time to plunge their stone-hard hand inside a man's body and squeeze his heart out. As much as she tried to forget the events, Alessandra has never really forgotten the traces of flesh and scarlet blood on the ground. The smell of rotting corpses, one that seems to smell like a thousand dead fishes, is still present whenever she closes her eyes.
They are guardians—Nathalia and she. And yet, they cannot protect everyone.
"Dat fat boy seems eager to know 'bout us"
She turns, having an idea on who was beside her. She sends a small smile towards the orange-haired woman before returning her gaze towards Samwell. "He's harmless"
She catches Ygritte's small grin from her peripheral vision. "I know"
They stay like that for a small moment, just in each other's company.
"Where's the other gal?"
Small pieces of fur coming from her coat start to invade her mouth. She spits the fabric away before answering. "She has other duties to attend to"
"Must be hard to be around all these men"
A laugh escapes from Alessanda. "You have no idea how right you are" Since Nathalia left, she became the prey. If not for her stature, the men would probably have raped her by now.
Their conversation ends as soon as loud growls start to come from the forgery. Alessandra's brows furrow in confusion, wondering who could be making such a noise. She mumbles a soft excuse before walking down on the training grounds. She finally reaches the entrance of the forgery just as a large wolf comes out from it. Fearing for her life, she takes a step back. The action causes the swiping of her feet against the rough pavement. The sound of her feet causes the beat to look at her threateningly—its jaws snapping in mid-growl. She freezes in fear, eyes wide in both surprise and confusion. How can such a beast be able to come inside the wall without the men noticing?
"Ghost, no!" Someone calls back. Grenn comes out a few seconds later followed by a panicked Pypar. Their loud footsteps are enough for the wolf to turn its attention towards them. The loud snarls of the beast overpower the commands of the two men. Grenn lifts up a large piece of meat, waving it slightly. The wolf sniffs the air curiously, taking notice of the food being offered to him. It opens its large mouth, catching its food when Grenn throws it at him. Everyone's attention seems to focus on the wolf, watching it chew its food slowly.
"Whose is that?" Alessandra breaths out, clutching her pounding chest.
Pypar strokes the white wolf's fur. The beast has apparently been tamed. "Jon's"
"His name is Ghost" Adds Grenn.
"How long has it been here?" She asks, feeling the soft lump of saliva stuck on her throat. She has never been the one to be comfortable around such large animals.
"Since Jon arrived, Lady Alessandra" Pypar answers, his voice traced with nervousness.
"That long?" Was her loud exclamation. How could she not notice such a creature walking around Castle Black?
"T—the Lord Commander has requested Jon to keep him locked inside his room" Grenn explains, making her breathe a sigh of relief. If that thing is permitted to be on the wall by the Lord Commander, she has no right to banish it. Besides, they would need all the help that they can get against the white walkers.
Glancing up, Alessandra realizes that the men had stopped what they were doing and have been watching the scene unfold in front of them. Rolling her eyes, she orders them to continue working before turning back to watch the two men be joined by a reddish Samwell. If he continues to react like that with only a few steps of running, Alessandra might just lock him inside the safety of the kitchen while they all go out in battle.
"You three have a lot of explaining to do" She tells them, raising a perfectly shaped brow. They all bow their heads in silent defeat. "Why haven't I been informed of this creature's existence in my time at the wall?"
"I—I beg your pardon my lady…but it has never really come up in a conversation" Samwell, surprisingly, is the one who dares to answer her.
She could never really get mad at them. After all, they are only the ones who can keep a conversation going despite her stature. "I will speak with the Lord Commander. This creature does not deserve to be locked inside a room. It will need space and air—otherwise, its tantrums will only worsen" And she is speaking from past experiences.
The three of them relax, hearing her change of tone. The stiff actions of the wildlings catch her attention. She almost forgets that they have been standing awkwardly ever since their arrival. The least that she can do is offering them some comfort. She turns to her most reliable companion. "Samwell, can you please escort our guests in their bedchambers. They must be exhausted from their trip" The fat boy nods eagerly, enthusiastic to pay the host. Taking one last glance towards the whining creature, Alessandra decides that it is best for all of them if the beast is kept at ease.
She meets Ygritte on her way back to her bedchambers. "Ygritte, you can have the spare bed in my room. I am sure that Nathalia would not mind" It is actually more probable that she will never return in the wall.
The red-haired girl nods before mumbling something about bows.
This gives Alessandra a short time to check the fire to see if any letters from Dany have reached them. The last letter that they have received is the short one that tells of her growing love for her husband and growing babe. She and Nathalia send a letter back, expressing their happiness for her. After, the communication just stopped. Alessandra finds herself beginning to worry. Usually, it is them who could not find time in sending a letter back. Once they did, the letters are fairly lengthy. Dany has never failed to assure them of her fine state. Her long silence seems to be suspicious. After checking many times, Alessandra groans and flops herself down on her bed.
Yes, she decides. I won't tell Ygritte of Nathalia's 'exercises' with Jon on that bed. The wildling woman would probably burn it.
*Sansa Stark*
Sansa blows another large breath as she watches two burly men fight each other. Joffrey wasted no time in ordering the preparations for his nameday. It is held just outside of the castle. The tent that he ordered to be used as a shade is providing anything but. Sansa squints her eyes, mindlessly watching the display of blood and swords clashing in front of her. She has never gotten the reason on why men have to fight to prove their strength. In her opinion, it is just foolish to risk your life just to gain honor.
She watches the Hound finish off another contender. The splatter of flesh and armor echoed in the large space. Beside her, Joffrey is clapping his hands. "Well struck Hound!"
Sansa can almost laugh at the way the Hound rolled his eyes. It is the fact that Joffrey looks at her intensely that stops her burst of amusement. "Did you like that?" He asks her.
"It was well struck, your grace"
His jaw twitches in obvious annoyance, an action that causes a tinge of satisfaction inside Sansa. "I already said it was well struck"
She stops herself from rolling her eyes at his childish behavior. "Yes, your grace" Is her dull reply, not in the mood for a lecture.
Sansa can still feel his heated gaze but decides to ignore it. One of the cleaners starts pouring water on the trail of blood created by the murdered contender. The young Stark comes up with a conclusion that the clean grounds of King's Landing are a hoax. The beady eyes of the Hound find hers. Ever since Joffrey has shown her her father's head on a spike, he has been suspiciously kind towards her. It may seem like a kind gesture but it only brings chills through Sansa's spine.
She looks away, adjusting herself on her seat. Her bottom is starting to ache from the stiffness of her posture. The new contenders' names are announced. A few silent seconds later, a fat man comes barreling down the steps. The loud clings of his poorly-worn armor echoes in the filled space. Even a fool can recognize of his activities the previous night. Sansa hears Joffrey growl beside her and immediately feels sorry for the man.
"Sorry, your Grace. My deepest apologies" Ser Dontos Hollard does not look his majesty in the eyes—too preoccupied by his helmet. Probably not the best way to apologize to a sadist, Sansa wants to say.
"Are you drunk?" Joffrey is dangerously calm. He balances his leg arrogantly on the crate in front of Sansa.
"NO" Dontos Hollard replies, his voice on a risky octave. Then the man remembers that he is speaking to the king and he smartly lowers his head. "No, your Grace. I had two cups"
"Two cups. That's not much at all" Oh no. Sansa wants to yell for Ser Dontos to run while he has time but there is nothing that she can really do. Joffrey gestures at the full cup of wine in front of Sansa. He doesn't comment on the fact that she didn't drink but she knows that he will as soon as he's finished with Ser Dontos. "Please, have a cup"
The fat man looks at Joffrey in disbelief "Are you sure, your grace?"
Joffrey smiles his taunting smile. "Yes! As a celebration of my nameday. Have two—have as much as you like!"
Sansa notices how the Hound has found his place beside the small tent. How annoying. He doesn't even look like he regrets ending a life.
"I'll be honored, your Grace" That reply brought her attention back to Ser Dontos. A big mistake on his part.
Joffrey orders his guard to help Ser Dontos. It is only when two other guards start to drag him in the center of the arena that Ser Dontos realizes that Joffrey did not mean well. A tube is presented, along with a barrel of wine. A wave of silence passes by the people, watching as the fat man drowns in his own vice.
Sansa has enough when he hears the strangled gurgles echoing loudly. "YOU CAN'T" The demanding words are enough to Joffrey to turn his menacing gaze towards her.
"What did you say?" He sneers. "Did you just say I can't?!"
She struggles for the right words to say when she looks at him. "I—I only meant that it would be bad to kill a man on your nameday"
The foolish king turns his chin up in disgust. "What kind of stupid peasant superstition"
"The girl is right" Their gazes fall on the Hound, now addressing his king. "What a man sows on his nameday, he reaps throughout the year"
For the first time, since Ser Jaime Lannister has left King's Landing, Joffrey looks weary and unsure. He waves his hand. "Take him away" He orders, a defeated tone on his voice. "I'll have him killed tomorrow; the fool!"
The guards remove the tube and Ser Dontos wastes no time in excreting the contents forced in his stomach. Sansa scrunches her nose in disgust and says to Joffrey, "He is a fool, you're so clever to see it. He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death"
Joffrey studies her. For a second, Sansa is afraid that he sees through her pretense. It relieves her when he gives his attention to Ser Dontos. "Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos?" Then he stands up. "From his day, you'll be my new fool!"
The fat man hurriedly bows, not wanting to cause any more trouble. "Thank you, your Grace…and you, my lady: thank you" Sansa sends him a small smile before he is sent away.
"BELOVED NEPHEW" A voice dominates the whole arena, bringing whispers around. Sansa's stomach flutters for a moment, hoping that it is Jaime announcing his return. It disappoints her when a small man appears, making it obvious that Tyrion Lannister is the owner of the loud voice. "We looked for you in the battlefield. You were nowhere to be found"
Joffrey looks appalled by the statement. Sansa's opinion of Lord Tyrion Lannister slightly elevates. "I was here—running the kingdoms!"
Tyrion snorts, grabbing a cup of wine and raising it. "And what a fine job you've done" He doesn't mean it in a good way. He gives Marcella a kiss on the cheeks and praises both her and young Tommen. He comments on young Tommen's height. "You're going to be as tall as the Hound—but better looking" Sansa notices the deep scowl of the man being compared to the young prince and wills herself not to laugh. "This one doesn't like me" Tyrion adds, also catching sight of the glares sent to him by the large man.
Tyrion's companion chooses this time to comment, "Can't imagine why" The sarcasm is obvious in his statement. Sansa is sure that the imp will scold him but the small man only smirks in response. She is quick to conclude that they've become close acquaintances on their journey towards King's Landing.
"We thought that you were dead" Joffrey says as if he wishes that his statement was true.
"I'm glad you're not dead" Myrcella says, smiling. Hmm seems like Tyrion is loved by the royalties.
"Me too, dear" The imp sashays around the tent like he owns it. "Death is so boring. Especially now that things are so exciting in the realm" Then his gaze falls on Sansa. Pity overcomes his cheerful face. "My lady I am sorry for your loss"
She opens her mouth in gratitude but Joffrey beats her to it, "Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor—!"
"But still her father" The imp interjects. "Surely having recently lost your own beloved father, you can sympathize" Sansa almost cries at the amount of annoyance that Tyrion has for his nephew. She may find herself liking him someday—despite the rumors of his contribution on the attack on her mother and Bran.
Then Joffrey looks at her, expecting her to say something. So she does. A purely rehearsed paragraph. "My father was a traitor—so are my brother and mother. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey" She wants to set herself on fire right in that moment.
The imp must have caught the disgust on her face since he smirks. "Of course you are." He puts down the wine. "Well…wish I can stay and celebrate but there is work to be done" Before he walks away, he adds: "Jaime sends his love"
Sansa ignores the loud inquiries of Joffrey. She is quite sure that the last sentence is not meant for Joffrey and his siblings.
Sooo sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I have all these ideas in my head and I just can't seem to find the time to write. *sad face in here*
So what did you guys think of this chapter?
Please review, follow and fave.
REVIEW REPLIES:
Arian Eripmav: Thank you for always posting a reply. Much appreciated. Natasha isn't included in the list of guardians since Nathalia is a few years older than her and earned the right to guard Westeros a little bit earlier than her sister. On the name thingy, noted. Do you have any suggestions?
Fairydaisy777: CORRECT! I hope you continue reading. Thanks for the reply hehe
UP NEXT: Tyrion has a surprise for Sansa. Natasha, Nathalia and Jon disguise themselves inside King's Landing.