Previously on POTG: Dyllon arrives at the wall, much to the annoyance of Alessandra. Jon and Sansa finish their goodbyes.
DISCLAIMER: If you think I own Game of Thrones, you're nuts.
Chapter 17 Blunt Truth
*Nathalia*
"Please tell me again: why we're not transporting to Robb's camp?" Nathalia has grown weary of Jon's incessant groaning about her decision to take the Goldroad instead of just using her abilities to summon another whirlwind. Littlefinger has provided two horses for them to ride, along with two baskets of sustenance. Nathalia is no fool. She knows how this act of kindness is only for the expense of the greedy man.
"Because I want you to experience the thrill of travelling," She sarcastically replies, rolling her eyes when Jon plops himself face-first on the small bed. Six days have passed since they left King's Landing. Nathalia thanks the gods for providing such strong animals. It may only be a day more, according to the whispers, before they reach Robb Stark's camp. She doesn't tell Jon of the real reason why she chose to ride instead of using her abilities. The effort that it takes to bring a non-guardian with her is exhausting. Even though she has much experience in using the gods' blessings, there is still a toll of fatigue after using such a powerful mechanism to speed of the air.
"Jon, there is probably only a day left before you get to see your brother. Please be patient." Honestly, it is like soothing a childish tantrum. She walks towards the bed, bending to wrap his body using hers. Her lips trailed soft kisses at the base of his neck.
He lifts his head, capturing her soft lips against his, "This is me being patient."
Nathalia frowns but a soft knock interrupts her next words. A peasant announces that their dinner is ready before walking away. The weary guardian stands up and places her hands on her hips. "Dinner is ready, lord husband"
She can't help but smile at the lopsided grin that Jon directed at her because of the title. They have been pretending for days as man and wife. Each time, Jon's grin seems to become wider when she calls him the name. "Then let us not keep the food waiting, lady wife." He stands, offering her his arm. There are times when Nathalia can forget about the impending war…times when she can just enjoy her and Jon's teasing.
The inn is a rare one that seems deserted. Only a few whores and free riders seem to occupy the small space. The place is near the Westerlands where Robb Stark is reported to be taking shelter in after he finished the battle at the Oxcross. Nathalia only hopes that, when they reach the camp, the king wolf would listen to their tales and accept her help. Blood pie and roasted beef are served to them, still steaming and smelled of herbs and spices. Jon wastes no time in stuffing his mouth full of the mouthwatering supper.
Nathalia shakes her head in amusement and helps herself. Certainly a lot better than the water broth from the wall. The saltiness of the beef is perfectly complemented by the sweet, sour juices from the blood pie. It seems unbelievably normal to be sharing a meal with Jon. She wonders if Ned Stark ever told anyone the truth about the 'bastard's' parental figures. Definitely not. The late lord of Winterfell was far too clever to expose such a secret. No doubt that the only people present in Lyanna Stark's final moments are the only people who know the truth about Jon Snow.
"What?" She snaps out of her daydream and focuses on Jon looking at her curiously.
She shakes her head, giving him a small smile to let him know that nothing is wrong. Jon narrows his eyes for a moment before returning to his supper. She would be grilled about this later. A burst of affection makes her chest seem warmer. They've only known each other for a few moons and Jon can already read past her false smiles.
"A company for the night?" A whore starts to rub herself on Jon's arm, causing the handsome boy to grit his teeth in annoyance.
"No, he does not want your company as you can very well distinguish," Nathalia's reply is sharp and cold.
The whore smiles, a few teeth turning into a pale shade of yellow. "Fuck off."
Before Nathalia can reply, Jon is already standing up from his seat. "Do not talk to my wife in such a disgusting manner. I do not need your company for the night. Leave."
A soft whimper escapes the plump whore before she stomps her feet and walks away, defeated. A couple of people turn to give Jon amused smiles and disapproved shakes of the head. He does not notice them and decides to sit back.
Nathalia places her hand on top of his, rubbing to relax the tension of his muscles. "Thank you, Jon."
"Anything for my lady wife," He winks and, just like that, they are back to being playful.
"You ought to learn by now that I can take care of myself—even from determined whores," She tells him, slipping another piece of beef on her mouth. The flavor filled the insides of her mouth. Whoever is the cook in this ghastly inn has her admiration. Nathalia has never been much of a cook. The job always belonged to Alessandra.
"Wouldn't be much of a good husband if I let my wife be insulted," Jon winks at her.
Nathalia can't help but ponder over the fact that the titles seem to slip easily from his tongue. She rolls her dark eyes, an action that seems to be repeated ever since she's been acquainted with a playful Jon Snow. "You are enjoying this far too much."
The front door opens with a thunderous bang. The few people present inside the inn stop and fix their eyes towards the large amount of soldiers entering the medium-sized room. Their armors are donned with blue and grey embellishments, eliciting loud noises as they retreated to the far side of the room. The innkeeper moves quickly, stuttering as she asks what they need for the night. Whores take the opportunity to bed the fearsome men, pulling down their barely-there dresses and leaving themselves bare from the waist up. It is only when one of the men looked around the room that the people returned to their actions.
"Those are—,"
"Soldiers," Nathalia finishes for Jon. "Specifically from the North."
Jon glances at the small troop before wolfing down his food. "We must be near Robb's camp," The gleam of anticipation is noticeable in his eyes.
"Yes," Nathalia says in a clipped tone. Was it selfish of her to want to spend more time with Jon pretending to have a domestic life instead of joining the battle?
Her lover stands up before she can register what is happening. She watches as Jon makes his way towards the soldiers. Nathalia wastes no time in standing up and hurrying after him.
"Who'r you, boy?" One of the men asks him, glaring up at the Stark bastard.
"Jon,"
"Jon what?" Another sneers, baring his yellow teeth.
The guardian chooses this opportunity to grab Jon's arm. "Forgive us. My husband is tired from the ride. Let us call it a night, my love." She hopes that he can let go of whatever his intention is and join her. There is no need to cause a commotion if they are brought inside Robb Stark's camp with his soldiers surrounding them.
The men roar with laughter. "Listen to yer wife, boy and leave the war for the men."
If there is anything that Nathalia has gathered about Jon, she learned that as quiet as he is, he still has the same hubris as any other man. Pride.
"Snow"
"What?"
Jon grits his teeth. "Snow. My last name is Snow." There is a string of shame hidden in those words.
One of the men stands up. "A bastard. What good are you to us? Go upstairs and make love to your wife, Jon Snow"
If only it were that easy, Nathalia thinks.
"A bastard of Eddard Stark." Jon says and the soldiers' eyes widen in surprise.
Seven hells.
*Tyrion Lannister*
Tyrion absentmindedly plays with the ends of his curly hair as he sits on the small council. He doesn't know why these wise men would meet up every day, giving their hatred for each other. It is positively boring…listening to them complain about the obvious problems that the realm has.
"There is still the debt that the late King Robert has left." Littlefinger says, looking at Tyrion for a reply.
The imp rolls his eyes, "I know of the six million gold pieces left by our extravagant king. What I want to know is how we are going to pay little by little. You obviously cannot borrow from me, since technically half belongs to my family. It would be like taking and giving it back."
"The taxes—," Grand Maester Pycelle starts but Tyrion cuts him off.
"What? You will increase the amount once again?" He leans forward, scratching the forming beard on his face. "Need I remind all of you that we have a rogue king on the throne? The people do not like him as it is. Do not give them another reason to start a rebellion. After all, we are already at war." A war that Tyrion is currently playing spy for the opposing team.
Varys looks solemn, pondering over his words. "It brings me grief to tell you this, Tyrion, but we cannot pay for the debts at a critical moment. King Joffrey has to provide sustenance for the soldiers fighting for him."
Tyrion sighs. It seems as if it is an action to be repeated every day that he plays the hand of the king. How could his sister push such an abomination from the hole between her legs? Before he can reply, the doors of the council room burst open.
"What are you doing here?" Tyrion barks at Shae, frowning angrily. What part of 'we have to keep this a secret' doesn't she know?
The whore places a hand on her chest, trying to calm her loud breathing. "His grace…throne room…Lady Sansa…"
"Speak up, girl" Littlefinger says. "What has happened to Lady Sansa?"
"King Joffrey has heard news of the Stark's victory at Oxcross. He's punishing to poor girl now as we speak."
Tyrion stands up from his seat in an instant. He knows of Nathalia's departure from King's Landing, leaving Sansa with the care of her sister. However, the guardian's power must seem useless when being surrounded by the Kingsguard and the king himself. Obviously, Natasha has sent Shae to him as a way of helping Sansa Stark.
The rest of the council watches him as he makes his way to the throne room. The youngest Lannister fastens his pace, hoping that he isn't too late and the girl isn't too hurt. The guards did not comment when he orders them to open the entrance. His breath gets stuck in his throat as he takes in the scene currently being played in front of all the aristocrats. Sansa Stark kneels in the middle of the large space, sobbing loudly as her gown is ripped off from her shoulder.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" He roars, earning gasps from the watchers. He walks quickly to where Sansa is currently kneeling, placing a hand on her covered shoulder. Nathalia's younger sister silently watches his moves, her eyes blazing with concealed fury. "My lady, are you alright?"
She nods, looking at the ground and leaning on Natasha for protection. The helper lets the young girl sob as she shushes her.
Tyrion turns to Meryn Trant, growling. "What kind of man beats a helpless girl?"
"The kind who serves his king, imp!" The knight sneers, looking down at Tyrion.
He does not even realize that Bronn is inside the room before he hears him threaten Meryn. "Careful now. Don't want to put blood all over your pretty white cloak." He would have laughed at the statement if he wasn't too angered right now.
He walks up the steps and towards Joffrey, annoyed by how the bastard king is smirking. "She is to be your queen! Have you no regard for her honor?"
"I'm punishing her," is the child's petulant reply.
"For the crimes that she did not commit! She does not fight her brother's battles, you half-whit!" Whispers erupt from the crowd because of the jabbed insult towards their 'king'.
"You do not talk to me like that!" Joffrey spits, looking like a child whose toy has been taken. "The king can do as he likes!"
Tyrion takes another step up while his nephew takes his seat on the iron throne. "And so the mad king did. Has your uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?" Surely his older brother would murder the foolish king for the beatings he has given Sansa.
"No one threatens the king in the presence of the Kingsguard!" Tyrion turns around and finds Meryn strides across the room, unsheathing his sword.
Tyrion rolls his eyes. "I am not threatening the king. I am simply educating my nephew." Sometimes he feels like he is surrounded by fools. "Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him." His sworn sword nods, a wicked smile already on his face. "That was a threat!" Apparently he also has to educate the knight. "See the difference?" Sending another heated glare towards his nephew, Tyrion walks down the steps and towards a startled Sansa. Tyrion watches as Natasha whispers something in the young girl's ear before helping her up.
"Is your grace satisfied by the punishment he has given his betrothed?" Sansa asks, her voice curiously steady and confident as she addresses the king.
Loud gasps can be heard from the room; the loudest belonging to Joffrey. "What are you talking about? You just got beaten!"
"Not very hard I'm afraid," The young Stark says, smirking slightly. Tears still stained her pale cheeks but there is no mistaking the hardness of her voice. "You might want to appoint a new member of the kingsguard, your grace." Apparently this is the day to insult Meryn Trant.
Loud rumble of laughter is released by the Hound, followed by a couple of confused watchers. Soon, everyone is enjoying the blunt opinion of Sansa Stark. Tyrion does not miss the small wave of have that Natasha points at the furious knight. Soon enough, Meryn Trant falls face-first as he tries to exit the throne room.
"I must take my leave. I have a gown to stitch." With that, Sansa Stark bows gracefully and leaves the surprised king alone in his throne.
Tyrion catches up to them before they part. "Very well executed, my lady."
She blushes at the praise and mutters a small thanks.
The imp gestures for Bronn to follow him. The knight complies, moving to stand behind him. "I hope you got the hidden meaning of my words earlier. My brother will not be happy with Joffrey's actions," He turns around but stops himself when a thought pops in his head. "Before we part, Lady Sansa, I mean to ask: do you still want to marry my wretched nephew?"
"Gods no"
He laughs, taking note of the look of disgust on the young girl's face. "Take care, young wolf."
She sends him a small smile; Tyrion finally understands how Jaime is deeply enchanted by her. "And yourself, Lord Tyrion"
"Ser Meryn Trant fell at the right moment, didn't he?" He catches the large smirk of the helper before he and Bronn disappears behind a corridor.
*Natasha*
"The nerve of that foolish boy!" She can't help but cry as they enter Sansa's bedchamber. Natasha didn't have the power to do anything in the fear of getting caught. "I want to cut off his manhood, cook it, then feed it to him!" The helper can feel the glares directed at her by the lady wolf sitting on the large mattress. Ever the lady. Catelyn Stark has raised her well. Natasha tutts, walking towards the young girl. Sansa Stark cradles her lovely face using her hands. "Let me heal you."
The young girl lets her, turning her face for better view. The skin is turning purple from the amount of force. A while ago, before Sansa bested the foolish king, Natasha had whispered a soft chant to lessen the amount of pain that the girl felt. That did not stop the ugly bruises to form though. Natasha traces them with her fingertips, whispering the guardian language. Soon enough, the skin returns to its smooth complexion.
"Thank you, Lady Natasha."
"Call me Natasha. I am not much of a lady, as you can tell from my previous actions. Besides, people would raise their brows if a highborn lady like you considers a poor lowly handmaiden like me an equal."
Sansa smiles shyly at her before walking towards the large mirror located at the far side of her room. She takes a seat on the small chair, grabbing a comb and brushing her Tully red hair slowly. Natasha could not help but ponder over the amount of suitors that the young girl will have in the near future—once her arranged marriage with the 'king' is cancelled. She is certainly a beauty.
Suddenly, the imp's words dawned on her.
"Sansa?" She asks, her voice laced with curiosity.
Tully blue eyes reflected to look at her. "Yes?"
"What did the imp mean? When he talked of Jaime Lannister?"
The Stark girl suddenly blushes, causing more intrigue on the subject.
"Sansa?" Natasha couldn't help but taunt the poor girl. "What has happened between you and the kingslayer?"
Sansa's eyes widen at what the guardian is implying. "NO—no! Absolutely not what you're thinking," She closes her eyes for a second before regaining her composure. "Jaime and I have an understanding."
Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Jaime?"
"Ser Jaime. I said Ser Jaime"
The guardian shakes her head. "No no you definitely called him by his first name—with no title"
"Did not!" The Stark girl places the comb back on the table forcefully.
A small laugh escapes Nathalia as she plops down on the bed, earning a grunt from the wooden base because of her weight. "Sansa Stark, either you tell me what has happened or I will be forced to report the worst things to my sister. No doubt Jon will drag you back to the North when he hears about your escapades."
Sansa groans, stands up, strides across the room, and throws herself on her bed. The plump mattress lifts at the added weight. "He's been very kind to me."
Natasha frowns. What was Jaime Lannister playing?
"He sent me a letter," Sansa points at a wall. "I stuck it in there…somewhere"
She finds the piece of parchment after a long search and opens it hurriedly. Well. She thinks. Surely Jaime must be sort of possessed when he wrote the romantic words. "He wrote this to you?"
A nod. "Lord Tyrion says so"
The mention of the imp has brought more truth in the matter. "And asked Tyrion to give it instead of using a raven?"
"…yes?"
"And the imp has told you that as the truth?" She has to make sure.
"Well…yes. I'd like to think so"
Natasha fails to hide her surprise. She quickly folds the parchment and places it back where she found it. Looks like Jaime Lannister did send such a letter towards the young Stark. "Well…fuck!"
"Do not say such crude words!"
She plops herself beside the young girl. "No wonder Cersei seems to dislike you so severly."
"That makes me feel very flattered," A point for Sansa because of her sarcasm. I have taught her well.
The guardian balances herself using her arm, peering down on the young lady. "Sansa, your brother would never never approve of this." This is the truth and Sansa knew it. "Ser Jaime might have treated you differently but he has done things that are not honorable. He killed the king that he has sworn fealty to."
The young girl closes her eyes and turns away from her. Natasha notices the lone tear that fell from her eye.
"It would never work, Sansa Stark." She says her full name for emphasis. The Starks cannot risk an affair between their own and a Lannister. Besides, Jaime Lannister is too old for a sixteen-year-old girl. But looking at the silent girl beside her, Natasha wonders if the kingslayer really meant the words he had written. Sansa must have made such a large impact on the man if it pushed him to write that letter. It was filled with romantic notions that a man in love would have sent to his lover. Natasha would have been happy for the young girl if the sender wasn't an arse.
"I know," Sansa whispers so soft that she almost didn't hear him.
The guardian wraps her arms around the sobbing girl, cursing herself for stating the small truth so bluntly.
No. This is the best way for her to let go. Let Sansa Stark know her duties and not let her feelings control her opinions about a horrible person.
Ta da da! I bet y'all didn't expect the new chapter coming fast. HAHA! It's raining so hard in here that school's been cancelled so that means I had a lot of free time to write this. I love describing Nathalia and Jon's relationship. They're just so playful and comfortable. I hope I didn't bore all of you with this chapter. It's been quite fluffy.
Any suggestions for the names of the new guardians on the wall? Preferably medieval.
What did you guys think of Natasha's blunt words about Jaime's personality? Will it change Sansa's opinions about him?
NEXT: Dyllon and Alessandra fail to find harmony as they train the newest guardians sent by the kingdom. Jon finally reunites with Robb. (A LOOOOT OF BROMANCE.)