Previously on POTG: Nathalia and Jaime speak about his change of alliance, and then she and Steffon persuade Robb to allow Jaime to come back to King's Landing. Meanwhile, the white walkers finally attack the wall.
Chapter 23 Cheers, Bastard
*Alessandra*
A chilly silence sweeps upon the wall before she has the courage to retrieve her dragonglass sword from its sheath. The master is a living skeleton with eyes so blue in color that his page alone can penetrate anyone to be frozen on their current state. He lowers his staff on the ground, pounding it twice before the fire created by the guardians has been thoroughly extinguished. Hissing sounds of ice forming are enough to frighten her. How can it be so easy for him to make disappear miles of fire with a pound of his staff?
The master shouts in a language that even she cannot fathom. His steady gaze circles the positioned guardians and men.
He must be asking us to surrender, she thinks. Why would we surrender to such things?
Ally lifts up her hand, hoping that the archers could see her small figure.
"Once the arrow is fired, I want all of you to transport to the safety of the wall." She mutters loud enough for her fellows to nod in response. With a small wave, the arrow was fired towards the master. The whooshing of the wind indicates that her fellow guardians have transported safely inside the wall.
Clang!
Her eyes widened in surprise as she raised her sword before the master's weapon collided with her neck. Time seems to slow down as she breathes heavily upon her tightened hold on her sword. Her knuckles are turning white from her too tight of a grip. How could the master have easily dodged the arrow sent flying by their best archer and manage to almost take her life. Looking into the lifeless eyes of the wight she manages a small smirk before whispering the chant to transport her back inside the wall.
The adrenaline caused by her almost execution causes her heart to beat so heavily that she's afraid that the sounds of it would echo across the wall. Never before has she been in a war that consisted of enemies as powerful as she is. The walkers have never been a problem before. They have never wanted to take over the wall before. Why now of all times to strike?
"Are you all right?" She looks up and is surprised to see Dyllon staring at her sincerely. His mysterious pale blue eyes express concern and worry that she almost believes everything has been a dream.
She nods, rubbing her chest to try and soothe her heavily beating heart. The master's blade almost collided with her skin before she escaped. She wonders how many more moments she can count herself lucky before she turns into one of those disgusting creatures she's currently killing.
Dyllon pats her back awkwardly before taking his place in line with the other guardians standing in front of the closed gate.
Alessandra closes her eyes to summon the powers of the wind to project her voice. "Light your arrows!" The archers do as they're commanded, too afraid to make a sudden mistake. "Aim!" Sounds of bands tightening to follow the movements of the archers' trained hands can be . "Ready...fire!" Hot, blazing arrows fly through the sky to torment the frozen undead. heard
Wails erupted from beyond the wall followed by thousands of angry growls.
Grenn is positioned exactly the the lever controlling the opening of the gates, waiting for her command. Somehow, a thick piece of wood can easily bring them the comforts of safety. So far, nobody is panicking or trying to escape; each men putting on a brave face at a chance of their convicted names to turn into hymns of bravery and heroism.
Ally catches the eyes of the Lord Commander. Jeor Mormont proudly steps in front of his men, heavily armed with a dragonglass sword proudly shining in his hand. "You are all cunts, but you are the best cunts a Lord Commander has a privilege of fighting with." Everyone exhales amused breaths at his attempt to lower the tension hanging in the air. He lifts the dragonglass sword, looking like the mighty Lord that he once was before being convicted to the wall by Ned Stark. "FOR WESTEROS."
The men, with pride and perseverance, raise their weapons to join the pre-war chant. "For Westeros!" Nobody seems to grudgingly comment on how 'Westeros' has exiled them in its coldest part because of various crimes. Today, they are all valiant soldiers.
Alessandra nods at Grenn. He pushes the lever, rolling the iron to open the gates.
Tension turns into unbearable ringing in Alessandra's ears as she watches the men approach the wights. She would not have heard the Lord Commander's dragonglass sword run through an undead body if she had not seen it happen. One by one, she starts releasing blazing arrows at her heightened position in front of the chambers. The archers are doing the same from above the wall, preventing any more wights to come inside the barriers of the wall. The women guardians join her stand and start helping the men kill.
Dyllon's battle cry echoes loudly as he savagely tears through five wights charging at him with admirable speed. He tries to back as much men as he possibly could but even he could not prevent the newly-trained protectors of the wall from being stabbed. He looks absolutely majestic, standing out from the others like one of the gods jumping down from the heavens to help them defeat the defiance of the devil. He moves fluidly, a look of determination crossing his handsome features. He fights like his father, she manages to squeeze in her mind despite the chaos.
A shrill scream distracts her enough to turn around. One of the female guardians, Cristina, is struggling in the hold of a large wight. She is a little one—included in the three guardians that were having some trouble catching up with their daily training. Wasting no time standing and watching, Ally quickly pulls out her sword and beheads the walker. The poor girl ends up coughing out the wight' ashes and falls to the ground in a loud thud.
Ally bends down, clutching the girl's back tightly—her bony frame does not miss her concern. This is not the time to be weak; she wants to say as soon as she sees beads of tears forming from the Cristina's eyes. "Go up the wall and do not go back here." She orders her, pushing her lightly so that the girl's small frame can move.
She returns on time to save Pypar from becoming an undead by sending an arrow straight through the eye of the charging walker. What would Nathalia be doing if she was in her position? Alessandra knows that she would tell her not to compare herself with her. One by one, walkers are knocked down by arrows followed by dragonglass piercing their skin. Their side is winning—for now. Everyone knows that the war has only just begun. It is still a long time before that could claim victory.
"Grenn!" That sounds like Pypar.
"No!" The word slips from her mouth as she jumps from the second story and glides gracefully across the battlefield to save the friend that she has grown fond of. A trail of hot fear courses through her body as she takes in the current state of which her friend is in. She tries her best to evade the advances of every wight and is only focused on coming to the rescue since no one is unable to give aid to him. Three walkers are advancing towards him, pinning him closer to the confines of the wall. If no one saves him, he will surely die and come back as a wight. He has become brave at his time training and would gladly drive his sword through his neck before he can be touched by these foul creatures. Alessandra keeps an eye on him, ready to send an arrow flying before he could kill himself. She is definitely not in the mood to watch a friend commit suicide.
The first walker is surprised once she arrives and stabs an arrow through his neck. Not killing it fully, it turns around and advances towards her. Good grief. She and Nathalia have seen such creatures from afar but never upfront. A moving rotting corpse is the phrase that she would use to describe the monster facing her. The crystalline blue eyes compliment strangely against the bloodless skin of the undead. Its mouth seems to be skinned off, leaving a disgusting hue of green in place of its jaw. It snaps its neck, trying to fully remove the arrow buried inside its throat. When unsuccessful, it releases a cry that could be mistaken as one of a falcon. Except…it is not a falcon.
She grips the handle of her sword, careful to show any sight of aggressiveness since the creature is too close to her for her liking. She chants quietly under her breath, feeling the wind picking up on her command and suspending the three walkers six feet above the ground. Their necksproduce a thrilling sound of snapping before falling unmoving on the ground. Grenn runs his dragonglass in a sweet victory, turning the monsters into ash within seconds.
She meets his eyes and a silent agreement passes between them for a short second before going off in different directions. Blood squirting from the neck of an unfamiliar man greets her. Her eyes widen in trepidation, frightened that he may not be the first death in their limited army. She slashes her way through the scene of massacre from both sides. Ashes go inside her nose from the killed walkers but she does not give them the luxury of coughing out the ghastly smell. Killing has always been a part of becoming a guardian. There will always be disagreements in the realm and, sometimes, there is no other way than committing a grave sin to end the predicament. This time, there will be no guilt. Everyone has one thing on their mind: walkers are created by the sorcery of vengeful witches who were locked outside of the wall as soon as Bran the builder has constructed it. Northerners will be the first one to get killed if these creatures ever manage to defeat the wall. The men, however cheated they felt as they entered the wall, would sacrifice their lives first before that happens.
"How many more do you see?" Zyria, a female guardian, offers a hand as she jumps on the platform once again.
She scans the crowd a few feet below her before replying, "Enough to know that this will not be ending very soon."
With a nod, the two of them start sending arrows once again.
Her quiver becomes lighter as more of her arrows start to penetrate walkers. Chanting under her breath, she suspends as many walkers as she could while her fellow female guardians kill them with dragonglass arrows. Despite the killing of most of the walkers inside, there seems to be more moving in the wall. She sees a few men running out the wall.
"No!" She tries to order, knowing that the men would only walk into their death. "Do not go outside!" When no one listened, she jumps from the platform in an attempt to stop the men. First time since the battle started, a wave of nausea overwhelms her. All the running made her swear but the perspiration is quickly dried with the cold wind of the North. Yet, she couldn't simply give up.
"Alessandra!" She does not turn around to find out who called her name and keeps running to follow the men.
"Don't go beyond the wall!" She shouts. But you are outside. Her subconscious kicks in. The air becomes colder and the number of the undead rises. The realm swirls. The green of the outside forest swirls around to become magnificent white. The wights take the opportunity to surround her—bearing their rotting teeth while seduced by the warm blood floating on her veins.
The wights turned into ash. What?
A hand is on her shoulder and she quickly positions her sword at the neck of her attacker. Dyllon angrily pushes her weapon away and rolls his eyes. "I called for you, shouted that you shouldn't run out of the wall!"
Anger changes the lightheaded feeling. "There were men, our men, running outside. Of course I would follow them in case more decide to commit suicide by running in the direction of thousands of undead."
"That doesn't mean that you risk your own life doing it damn it!" His pale blue eyes turn dark with fury. The reason behind is unknown. Shouldn't he be ecstatic to know that she's stupid enough to risk her own life and that, once she is gone, he will collect all of the glory and fame?
She moves her face closer to his, "Why do you care? Shouldn't you be grateful to have all the praise once I'm dead. You are a complicated, curious basta—!"
Then his lips descended on hers. She does not know what goes over her and her mouth eagerly opens for him to devour. Their tongues forcefully dancing together in surprised wonder. All the sexual frustrations have come bubbling up in surface. His hand her waist roughly, pushing her body against his—desperate for friction. How he managed to elicit a moan to come out of her under these circumstances is beyond her understanding. As soon as his hands wonder below her waist, Alessandra pulls away. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with her eyes widened in surprise.
"Behind you!" She does not have a time to inquire because he immediately shouts a warning before she gets served as raw meat for a wight. She cuts the wight's head off, killing it immediately. When she turns back around, Dyllon is already off fighting more undead.
The talk will have to wait. She hopes she will still be alive for his reason.
The battle continues.
*Steffon*
Jaime Lannister is a lucky cunt, Steffon watches as Nathalia appears to warn the golden knight by helping him put on his armour. If watched closely, she is like an older sister tending for a brother off to fight a war. It confuses him how the fucker continues to be in her good graces even though he is dubbed as the 'kingslayer' by many.
"If you ever betray us, I will find you in the darkest parts of Westeros and personally impale you," Seven hells, Nathalia can be quite frightening when she wants to be. He wonders how Lannister could stand straight and still roll his eyes at her. "Understood?"
"Yes, my lady," The git has the nerve to taunt her!
The male guardian watches the corners of Nathalia's lips start to rise. He wonders how Jon will prevail once he learns of his lover's fondness of the golden knight. She places her right hand on Lannister's cheek and mildly slaps him. "Stay safe—" then she finally acknowledges his presence. "—both of you."
Steffon salutes her. Damn right, Lannister, I can be cheeky too. "Yes mother."
She rolls her eyes fondly at both of them. "You two are too alike for your own good."
Jaime tsks, moving beside Steffon and gripping the handle of his sword strapped to his side. "Me being the handsomer version, of course."
Insulted, Steffon pushes him to lose a couple of steps. His stay in King's Landing will surely be interesting. "Don't make me regret helping you escape, Lannister."
"Trust me, I am eternally grateful," Looks like he doesn't like the feeling of owing anyone.
"Ready?" Nathalia is already positioned at the entrance of her and Jon's tent. Robb Stark and his men demanded that they see the guardian and the prisoner away. Once outside, Steffon and Jaime exchange a small glance of apprehension. Of all his time serving Robb Stark, this is the only moment where he feels that the king does not trust him.
Robb is positioned between his mother and Jon, calculating the guardians' every move. Despite having said yes, he is still a bit weary on whether Jaime would betray them or stay true to his word. The weather becomes colder than before so every man is wrapped up in his best wool. Having experience winter before, Nathalia told Steffon that the gods are warning her of possible dark forces in the nearby future using dreams. Every time the lady says this, an unreadable look crosses her face like she wants something more to say but cannot. He knows that she has a friend that she left at the wall. He wonders what could be different here if the Lady Alessandra, or so they tell her name, had accompanied her dearest friend to save Westeros again.
"Safe travels, Steffon," The king nods at him, his eyes scanning Jaime to reiterate that the male guardian is in charge of whatever spectacle the lion will make.
Steffon nods. "I'll be back soon, your grace."
"You better be." Catelyn Stark interjects. Her tully blue eyes narrowed into slits, threatening them with a single glance. That woman has never been fond of him from the start, much more now that he helped Jaime Lannister escape with no promises of returning Sansa.
Jaime Lannister bows. For once, not mockingly. "You made the right decision, King of the North."
"Prove it, Lannister."
Steffon, with a small help from Nathalia, chants the spell. The soldiers taking steps back to shield themselves from the sharp winds of the North. It is the first time that Steffon transported with another person. The exhaustion starting to invade his body surprises him, much more when Jaime Lannister's tight grip sent jolts of pain in his arm.
"Seven hells," It is the moment that Steffon would probably laugh at him if he isn't currently experiencing lightheadedness.
Steffon continues chanting, glaring at Jaime. The golden knight shuts his mouth, a smirk present on his lips. Westeros is a small map as they travel from the North to the central city. It is not too far as the Free Cities but being with another person who isn't able to perform the gifts of the guardians takes a bit more energy than necessary.
They travel with the wind, letting themselves to be carried unnoticed. The possibility of getting lost in the limbo frightens Steffon. He did not think about how Jaime could affect his travels when he started formulating the plan.
The winds picked up his wavering chant, losing its hold on them. A sudden wind delays them further from Westeros by throwing them around. Steffon, realizing that they're in the direction of the slave cities, cries out the chant. Jaime begins to panic, realizing that they may not be transporting as smoothly as they expected. His words seem to be less like a chant but more of a prayer. Their heads begin to hurt as the wind releases them from the pull of the whirlwind and sends them in a dizzying spiral. Then it stops.
The water invades their lungs. For a moment, they both panic that the whirlwind has dropped them in the dark seas of Westeros or sent them forever wandering in limbo.
"Jaime!" Steffon pushes through the surface, arms splashing in an effort to keep himself floating. His tongue tastes the overwhelming saltiness of the water before being pushed down by the large waves.
A hand grips his arm, pulling him on the surface. "Where the seven hells did you transport us?"
With a pull on his armour, Jaime Lannister pulls him from the deep waters to the sandy shores, thankfully, a few meters away. The guardian's limbs feel like the transparent sweet served at a great feast. His lungs are burning, making him cough like a dying man. It is twilight judging from the fading orange hue of the sky. Steffon rests his body on the sand, inhaling deeply the fresh air of his surroundings. His almost failure overwhelms his mind—much more now that he realizes that Jaime Lannister saved him from possible death by drowning.
"Where are we?" He asks, trying to calm his heavy intake of air.
The Kingslayer appears unfazed by the events. He places both hands on his hips, looking around him. The remaining light appears like a halo on his golden hair as he grins down at the guardian. "Cheers, you bastard. We made it in King's Landing."
A bit late, sorry.
Gaaah! Originally, I wasn't even going to put Alessandra and Dyllon together. But then again, who doesn't love a good cliché battle scene kiss?
Love Jaime and Steffon's humour.
Review replies:
Bfireworks5: Looks like they managed to sway Robb hehe. Hope this chapter is good.
HermioneandMarcus: Your username is amusing! Hehe.. Thanks for the wonderful review!
Next: A reunion! (oooh who do you guys think will reunite?) We'll find out about Nathalia's dreams.