Previously on POTG: Jon and Nathalia have dinner at an inn when soldiers from Robb's camp come in. Sansa gets humiliated by Joffrey. Natasha finds out the relationship between Sansa and Jaime.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Game of Thrones.
Chapter 18 Brothers
*Alessandra*
"Do not think of anything else. Let the power take over yours senses," The new guardians nod at her instructions; some closing their eyes to wait for the effect.
The newest coven arrived at the wall exactly two days after Dyllon did. It consisted of three women and seven men, all eager to learn from one of the most famous guardians. Seeing as they were too many to accommodate at the Lord Commander's tower, Jeor Mormont has ordered his builders to restore the King's Tower to its former glory. It merely took ten skilled hands a day and a half before they have been successful. As much as the tower looks appealing, Alessandra has taken it upon herself to retain her normal quarters since it is the one nearest to the Lord Commander's. Despite Dyllon's meddling with her plans, she still has the upper hand when it comes to the men's confidence. She has known them longer than that smug guardian.
A frightened scream interrupts her thoughts. Alessandra turns around, almost too late to extinguish the fire started by one of the guardians.
"YOU!" Dyllon's voice echoes through the vast, empty space. His fast strides match his tall frame—enough to frighten the poor guardian. "What is your name?"
"C—Cedric," The guardian stutters, looking up at the furious guardian.
Dyllon pinches the bridge of his nose, "How could the kingdom have sent such a guardian incapable of a basic heating chant?"
The others stay silent, not daring to answer the furious guardian.
"I didn't—it was—I'm sorry," Cedric stutters once he realizes that no one is to give him aid.
A scowl forms on Dyllon's usually brooding face. "Apologies are mere words that need to be proven to be accepted." He runs a hand through his golden hair before looking at the other guardians. "Let this be a lesson for all of you. Guardians cannot demonstrate such incompetence!"
Alessandra tightens her lips in a line. She waits until the guardians return to their training before positioning herself beside Dyllon. "That was not the way to handle mistakes."
"Maybe for you it's not." He barely sends her a glance.
She takes a short moment to stare at his sharp features. There is no denying that one of the basis for Nathalia's previous attraction towards Dyllon's father is because of the classical good looks given to both. Alessandra remembers her friend's glee when it has been announced that Gabriel would join them in their coven. For years, since they were young, Thalia has harbored romantic feelings towards the handsome guardian—but then so did a lot of women. It was in her relief that he seem to be oblivious towards the forwardness of some of the unmarried ladies of Westeros.
"You forget who is older, Dyllon." Alessandra tells him.
The shocking color of his eyes stills her. The pale liquid blue of his orbs is not one of the traits that he has gotten from his father. "I do not. However, age does not define the caliber of a guardian's power."
For some reason, this statement brings a smile on her face. "Nor does arrogance."
A sudden bitter laugh escapes him. "Yes, well…you would say that, won't you?"
"What do you mean?"
He grabs her arm, stirring her away and closer to the deep part of the woods. The trees become darker and the air grows colder. It takes her rage to hide the fact that she is freezing. Dyllon, meanwhile, does not seem to feel anything. The raven black cape wraps around him like psychological walls. Alessandra realizes that it would take a lot more than teasing and jesting to get a secret out of his pouted mouth. "Let's not pretend to be hostile, Alessandra. You've never had to prove yourself to anybody. You only have to show a little bit of that perfect plump skin and open your legs to get what you want."
She retracts her arm and glares at him. "How dare you insult me? You should know your place, Dyllon. Your father is a friend. He would have never judged a woman that way."
"My father was always so perfect, wasn't he?" His voice becomes distant, eyes are casted down and his lips pursed in concealed epiphany. He runs a hand through his face, wiping nothing but invisible dirt. "He never left Westeros," Piercing eyes stare at her topaz ones. "He might have returned to the kingdom…but he has never left this blasted place."
This revelation shocks her. She has always known that Gabriel and Nathalia's brief affair has been passionate and dangerous…that it broke both their hearts when Nathalia chose to stay in Westeros instead of making a possible family for them in the safety of the kingdom. The amount of abandonment present in Dyllon's voice makes her contemplate if Gabriel has ever fallen out of love from her friend. Is it possible that the latter has only reproduced because of his duties to continue their bloodline? What would Nathalia possibly think if she finds out that her former lover still feels the same for her?
Alessandra shakes her head. She doesn't know how long she's been standing there, not even realizing that Dyllon has already disappeared.
*Jon Snow*
Nobody has ever paid attention to Jon back in Winterfell. He has always been transparent in the eyes of the nobles. Those who took time in sending him a short look only did to sneer of judge him. As if he had something to do with his father's infidelity—not that he has ever blamed Ned Stark for his fate. He's always been thankful that the honorable lord of Winterfell has recognized him as a son, allowing the servants to treat him like a trueborn child.
"Keep moving. The king's tent is near, boy." One of the guards pushes him forward, making him lose a couple of steps.
Jon huffs. Not like he hasn't experienced this abuse before with Thorne. "King?" Her lowers his voice to ask a quiet Nathalia beside him.
Her expression changes into one of apologetic. "I forgot to tell you. Your brother has been proclaimed as the King of the North by his bannermen."
Robb is king? His half-brother is a king? "When did you find out about this?" He asks, moving closer to his woman when he catches sight of men objectifying Nathalia. He places an arm around her waist to show dominance and smirks at the bows of acceptance from some men.
"You hear things from the wind, Jon Snow," is her coy reply. "Stop smirking," she adds. Of course, this only causes his current face to widen even more.
"Here we are, Ned Stark's bastard." Some soldier spits, still not believing of Jon's true relationship with the late Lord of Winterfell.
He ignores the heavy glare directed at him and focuses on Nathalia. It only takes one look before she places a hand on his cheek and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Talk to your brother alone. I will be fine."
The lustful and greedy looks from the men surrounding her do not give him much comfort. He grabs her free hand, pulling her forcefully and envelops her mouth with his. His body molds itself to hers, making him feel a tinge of regret that he hasn't taken the advice of one of the soldiers to go back to their room and make love. A small gasp escapes her lips when he sucks on her bottom lip. He takes a small teasing bite of her inviting flesh before he releases her.
"Take care of my wife." He spits out forcefully to the guards, trying to look as menacing as Thorne.
One of them nods to represent the group. Looks like Thorne can teach a thing or two about threats.
The entrance of the tent is draped with heavy cloth, falling swiftly on wet ground. A guard opens it for Jon, giving him the motion to enter the probably makeshift throne room of his half brother. The tent is lit with oiled lamps surrounding the limited space. A large round tale adorns the middle of the area. It is filled with maps, and wooden pieces…probably to be used as representations of their allies and enemies.
"Jon," His gaze drifts on the man sitting on the head seat of the council. Robb Stark looks like the war lord that he had always dreamed to become. His dark copper hair glows in the limited amount of light of the lamps. Jon has always prided himself to be the first to grow whiskers between the two of them; it made him feel more of a man than Robb was. Now, it seems as if Ned Stark's eldest trueborn child matches him in every aspect—probably exceeding since he has seen the glory of a battle.
Any feeling of envy that Jon acquired faded as he saw the grin that his brother sports. He mindlessly fixes the blue tunic he's wearing, hoping that all goes well once Robb settles with the news that he is bringing.
"Leave us," Robb commands, his voice and demeanor seem to mimic Ned Stark. His council frowns but starts to leave nonetheless. Each one of them gives Jon confused and penetrating gazes before they leave the tent. All he can do is stare back at them with an indifferent face. "How is this possible?" He watches Robb stand up from his seat and walk towards him. The King in the North claps Jon's shoulders roughly, as if making sure that his half-brother is physically present.
"It's nice to see you Robb," He doesn't know the reason behind the sudden gruff in his voice. They embrace each other like they did when Jon left for the wall. Only this time, the aura is of a reunion.
Robb's releases him and his grin widens when he hears the familiar deep baritone of Jon's voice. "Likewise, brother," Brother. A similar expression arises on the bastard's face. He had almost forgotten that the Stark siblings treated him like a true member of their family. "Come, sit with me." He gives Jon's shoulders one hard pat before moving back to where he sat.
Jon doesn't know what to do. He blindly follows his brother, sitting himself on the nearest chair beside him. It suddenly dawns on him that Robb has the ability to order a bunch of men older than his 18-year-old self. "Robb Stark, the king of the north." He tests the strange words. "Never thought I'd say that in my life"
A small chuckle escapes his brother. "Me too." He seems more relaxed than when Jon first set eyes upon him. Must be hard pretending to be years wiser than he really is.
"Never thought that I would meet you as a king," He comments.
"And you're not wearing black like I thought you would be." Then Robb's cheerful attitude changes; his jaw snapping at the clenching of his teeth. It only takes less than a second before Jon figures out what is going on through his mind. "Did you abandon your post, Jon?" A fearful look escapes him. Of course he would seem worried. Even Ned Stark had to behead men who abandon their position in the Night's Watch.
"No," Jon shakes his head. "I never took my vows."
The king exhales. "Good" He smiles and repeats "Good"
A cup appears in front of Jon. He isn't fast enough to notice Robb's cupbearer entering and exiting the tent. Taking no offense, he grabs the cup and takes a large gulp of the beverage—which he can now tell is spiced wine. How long ago was it that he and Robb pretended to be men drinking by using honeyed milk as a substitute? "I left the wall a fortnight ago. Ever since, I've just been travelling places."
"Place?" Robb raises a quizzical brow. "Where in the seven hells did you go?"
"The south," is his simple reply.
"Well that explains the blue garments" His brother nods at his choice of clothing; his lips wet from the cup of wine.
Jon suddenly finds himself smiling. "A gift," he tugs the front portion of his clothing before letting it rest back to his chest.
"Oh?" Robb asks, intrigued. "Tell me, brother, is father the only reason why you chose not to take the black?"
"It was a spur of the moment," The smile leaves his face. Father. Ned Stark. He stands up, turning around so he would not have to face Robb's face when he tells him his whereabouts. The next words are hard for him to utter, "Robb…I saw him—father. I arrived at King's Landing just in time for his head to roll down the ground."
He hears the clutter of armour and the loud crank of the heavy furniture being pushed by Robb as he stands up from his seat. "Jon."
He turns around and curses himself immediately for doing so. Robb's blue eyes are watery from the pain of their father's death.
"You saw father…killed?"
He can do nothing but nod.
"SANSA AND ARYA!" Robb's eyes are alight with hope and Jon knows that he will be the one to wipe that emotion from his brother's Tully eyes. "Are they here? Are they with you?"
He shakes his head. "Arya's managed to escape King's Landing."
The King looks dejected but sighs in relief. "That's good I suppose. And Sansa?"
"Tried to persuade her to come with me but she wouldn't listen…said she wants to help the guardians to spy on Cersei." He understands how Nathalia usually calls the suggestion foolish.
Robb curses but does not comment on his sister's decision. "Guardians?" He moves quickly towards Jon, spilling half of the contents of the cup he is carrying.
"Looks like old nan's stories are true." The wine gives a trail of heat down Jon's throat. Just what he needed.
The king exhales, obviously amazed at the change of events. "And Sansa wants to help them?"
"Yes."
"You could have dragged her by the hair."
"She wouldn't forgive me if I did that. She's too fond of her locks."
The half brother share a small laugh, each relieved to find some humor on the current situation.
"I have someone who might be of some help." He prays to the gods that Robb does not have the same reaction that he did when he first saw Nathalia.
I KNOW. I SUCK AT UPDATING. Hopefully I will get to update more since finals are over. Thank you for everyone who still finds the time to read this story. I hope this chapter makes up for lost time.
What did you guys think of Nathalia's past with Dyllon's father?
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ON THE NEXT CHAPTER: Nathalia and Robb meet.