Previously on PotG: Nathalia and Dyllon—who reminds her of her former flame—finally meet. Sansa has a decision to make to either marry Tyrion or escape from King's Landing.
Chapter 29: In Another World
*Sansa Stark*
She stays quiet as Shae works on her hair. Her decision was final. In fact, she had spent a week contemplating about her marriage with Tyrion. However, she still doesn't know why she's choosing to do this—why she's risking her freedom instead of fleeing from King's Landing like the others wanted. Maybe it's because she doesn't want anybody risking their lives for her. Hmp. That's stupid. Robb's soldiers die for him without even getting near the King of the North. Just the thought of Natasha and Shae risking their lives makes a heavy feeling settle on her stomach. Surely even Tyrion and Jaime would join them seeing as they've pledge their allegiance to Nathalia's side of the battle.
"You don't approve," Sansa points out once she sees Natasha's reflection through the mirror. The helper sports a neutral expression as she, once again, adjusts the flowers inside a vase. She's been this way since the day dawned—frantic and irritable. The maids are all required to wear a pale pink gown—halter and made from cheap silk. Natasha is able to carry it wonderfully.
Their eyes meet through the mirror. "You don't care if I approve or not,"
"I don't want you to risk your lives for me," She says in frustration. She's been telling them that this is the best way—that they shouldn't worry—but they wouldn't listen to her.
The helper rolls her eyes and doesn't comment on Sansa's excuse. "And what of Shae? Have you ever thought of her feelings about this? You're marrying her beloved!"
Shae yelps in surprise when Sansa turns around to frostily stare at the helper. "Don't you think I considered that? Pondered upon the situation until I fall asleep with a worried state of mind?" Then she relaxes once more. It's absolutely terrifying—yelling at someone so powerful. "Besides, I already asked Shae about it," She doesn't react when the said girl pulls firmly at her hair.
"You told her it was fine?" Natasha's accusing gaze falls on the handmaiden.
The handmaiden continues working on Sansa's hair as she shrugs. "My lion and I—we will never get married. Not now, not ever."
"And that means you allowing Sansa's decision?" Sansa can tell that the whole idea still seems mad for Natasha. She almost wants to back off the wedding. "This is madness. Your brother will have a fit if he finds out who you married,"
She sighs. "Let it be,"
Joffrey smirks when Sansa approaches him. He was the one who oh so graciously offered to take Ned Stark's place and escort her to the aisle. Ugh. As if Sansa would consider some rotten bastard to be someone worthy of giving her away. For a moment, she closes her eyes and prays to the gods that this wedding be nullified on the day that someone worthy is sitting on the throne.
"Having second thoughts?" The smug tone of Joffrey infuriates her. She again sends a prayer to the gods that he dies slowly and painfully.
She shakes her head and takes his outstretched arm. "Not at all, your grace."
The monster does not speak seeing as the ceremony is already taking place.
The rest of the day is embarrassing to say the least. Joffrey took it upon himself to make it known that Sansa is marrying a dwarf. He kicks off the stool used to provide height for the youngest Lannister and lets Sansa compensate by kneeling beside Tyrion. She almost had to grab her new husband by the shoulders to prevent him from beating Joffrey. When she turns to find solace, she sees her confidants standing on the nearest area they could be allowed to watch. Natasha is still sporting her neutral expression. However, there is a quiet agreement on the events happening—as if she can still fix this horrid arrangement. Shae's gaze is more directed at Tyrion as she stares pityingly at her lover. Her rebelling eyes narrow every once in a while towards the much too happy king.
Steffon is the beacon of support for Sansa. His cool gaze is directed to the insolent king as Joffrey makes fun of his uncle. No doubt Steffon is already planning to make most of his last night in King's Landing by making fun of Joffrey. Speaking of Steffon…the helper had not said much about her decision to marry Tyrion. He only gave her a nod of the head and asked her if she thought this as the best idea. When she told him her reasons, he found nothing to complain about. She's glad at least one of them supports her idea.
The reception is held on the gardens. The once bare landscape is designed as an acceptable area for gathering. Golden Lannister tents are put up to avoid the heat of the sun. Servants are running around to bring spiced wine to every guest. One by one, the nobles approach Sansa and Tyrion to congratulate them. Only when it was announced that it's time to eat did they stop pestering them. Wanting it to be a simple affair, Sansa only chose seven courses for dinner. It's not like this is her dream wedding. It only serves as a proof to the Lannister's that she's loyal to them—well…until Arya decides to come back. Tyrion already decided early on the day to drink himself to a babbling stupor. He's not much help in making this day more bearable. When she told him of her decision, he blew a large breath as if he wasn't expecting anything less. Poor Tyrion. Always expecting the worst in a situation when it comes to his family. He deserves love, at least. Yes, she decides, she'll let him spend his wedding night with Shae instead of her. At least the two of them have something resembling love. This morning, before the wedding began, she noticed how Tyrion called for Shae. She hopes that they worked things out and thought things through before letting him marry.
Sansa's gaze sweeps the party. Still no sign of Jaime Lannister. They have not spoken much since her announcement. In fact, he seemed to be ignoring her. Her nervousness on the whole affair overcame the hurt of being ignored by someone she cared deeply about. Yes, she must admit that Cersei's twin has somehow became some sort of a romantic figure in Sansa's head. At nights, she would blush at her most scandalous thoughts. She would often wonder what it would feel like if he touches her. Not a pat in the shoulder, but a more sensual caress that a lover might do in a wedding night. She thinks of his soft lips looking so attractive whenever he speaks, and his strong body hidden beneath his glorious armour. Feeling a bit hot, Sansa drowns another glass of spiced wine. She hopes that the red flush of her cheeks would be reasoned from her continuous drinking.
Cersei Lannister walks to her high table and offers her congratulations. The smirk that she's sporting means that she thinks she's won against Sansa. The Stark girl noticed how possessive she's been with Jaime lately—like she's somehow acknowledging that the young girl is stealing her twin's affections.
Cersei walks back to her seat and engages in conversation with Margaery Tyrell. They've been like this the whole day, acting happy for the newly-weds. Their secret smiles are enough to worry Sansa if it had not been for Margaery sending her small winks and eye rolls when unnoticed.
Her throat constricts when she catches sight of Littlefinger approaching them. His sickly smirk hidden beneath his beard makes her heart pound erratically. He is wearing black clothes made of leather. They squeak as he moves.
"Ah! A heartfelt congratulations to the new Lannister," He opens his arms and she has no option than to offer him his hand. He presses a too long kiss upon it before caressing it with his bare hands. "I never knew your taste could be so…exotic," He winks disgustingly towards Tyrion.
The latter laughs, "What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you were on some gangly mission for the crown."
This is enough for Littlefinger to let Sansa's hand go to rub his chest dramatically. "I don't do missions for the crown, Imp. I am a free man—I can do anything I want." His last sentence is directed towards Sansa. She shivers in the absurdity of his statement. Right now, Natasha's presence is the only thing stopping him from taking advantage of her.
"Thank you for your congratulations, Baelish, but I believe that it's time for the bedding ceremony." Joffrey suddenly appears behind the pedophile. The king smirks at them as the rest of the part cheers for the bedding to begin.
If it is possible, Sansa's heart begins its mission to carve its way out of her chest. An unsettling feeling envelops her. She did not think that they would want to push through the bedding ceremony. Catching Natasha's also panicked eyes, she stands up. The crowd takes this as her agreement on the bedding and loudly cheers.
The vile innuendos shouted stops when her new husband smashes his goblet on the ground and declares with as much power as his voice could muster, "THERE WILL BE NO BEDDING CEREMONY,"
They shout their disappointment.
"But, uncle, why would you deny your council the entertainment of watching you prove to your wife how much of a man you are?" Joffrey taunts. His golden crown gleams from the falling rays of the sun. He doesn't deserve that crown.
Tyrion glares at his twin. "They'll be more entertained once you bed your future wife, I suppose. You seem too excited to watch your previous betrothed and uncle consummate the marriage that one might think you have a kink. Leave me and my wife be, you fool."
The king looks outraged by the statement and begins his reply.
Tywin Lannister is the one who stops a fight from brewing. "Forgive your uncle, my king, for he is quite intoxicated. Due to his state, there will be no bedding ceremony."
Sansa bows her head in submission. She could never find the courage to stand up to Tywin Lannister. He is the real Lannister who bears of the glory. He is a walking lion ready to pounce at whoever declares war on his family. Even Joffrey does not voice out his opinions on his grandfather's opinion.
The new husband and wife are escorted by Natasha and Shae towards their new chamber. Their room is already designed to be seductive, and captivating. The large king-sized bed beckons them to come closer and lay on its soft silk sheets.
The four of them stare uncertainly at each other before Natasha breaks the silence by clearing her throat and announcing her departure for the night. They've said their goodbyes to Steffon before leaving for the 'bedding' as to not attract attention. Natasha is the only one to see him off.
Sansa takes a deep breath. "I'll see myself out. You two deserve this room,"
"Y—you don't have to leave. People will see." Tyrion tries to sway her judgment with a weak tone.
She shakes her head and smiles a little, "No they won't. I'll be quiet. Besides, my chambers are just down the hall. It'll be a quick trip,"
They don't object as she walks out and closes the door quietly. The gods give her a blessing that no guards are stationed outside the door so this makes her escape easier. Perhaps people passing by the room might think that Sansa's the one Tyrion's with?
Tonight, she would have her room all by herself. It is a luxury she hasn't been afforded since Natasha started looking out for her. It drives her crazy sometimes but she knows that it's the payment for wanting to stay at such a dangerous place.
Her doors emit a heavy, creaking sound. Ugh, I hope they think it's my chambermaids cleaning the mess from this morning. She knows some of her companions laugh behind her back at her choice for a husband. They all think that it's ridiculous to choose Tyrion over handsome men such as Steffon and Loras. Whatever. At least she won't be married to a monster.
"Back so soon?"
Surprise, she whirls around to come eye to eye with Jaime Lannister. His green eyes are noticeable against the roaring fire of the hearth. The room suddenly becomes twice warmer than when Sansa had entered it.
Jaime is wearing his usual golden armor though it looks a bit dirty. Hmm. He must have been releasing his stress through swordfight during her wedding. Because of the strenuous exercise, his beautiful green eyes seem more appealing. That's one of the differences between him and Cersei. Her Lannister eyes always look like they can almost pass for snake slits while Jaime's eyes are like emeralds glistening against every ray of light.
"You scared me," She mutters once she realized that they've been staring at each other for too long.
He stands from his position on her bed. He'd been sitting when she arrived as if he was in deep thought. On instinct, Sansa freezes on her spot in front of the closed door. "Was he good to you?"
"W—what do you mean?" Her voice is a muffled whisper as her heart begins to pound erratically. He is getting nearer now. Every step he takes brings excitement in Sansa's stomach.
"My brother—was he good to you?"
She understands now what he's implying. "Don't," She says sharply and holds her hand out for him to understand that she doesn't want him near. "Don't ask me that,"
He ignores her and keeps on walking. "Why not?"
"It's private,"
"Fuck privacy," His foul words should not be making butterflies swirl in unrest inside her stomach.
"I won't tell you," She's stubborn at making it known to him how irresponsible they're being right now. What if Natasha had suddenly returned from whatever trip she went on?
He suddenly laughs. Sansa notices the bottle of ale on her small, round table used for reading and deducted why Jaime's acting like this.
"You're drunk,"
"I'm not,"
She rolls her eyes, "I can see the empty bottle, Jaime, I'm not blind."
His eyes turn darker. Did she say something wrong? Sansa bites her lips in apprehension. Ugh curse her proper mouth.
"Say it again."
That surprises her. "What?"
In one move, Jaime has her pinned between him and the wall. His strong arms cage her in the scandalous position while their chests leave no space in between them. Sansa lets her eyes flutter close when Jaime trails his nose from her collarbone to her ear. "You called me Jaime,"
Her voice is breathy when she replies, "That's because it's your name,"
Jaime pulls away to look at her with a strange fascination. His eyes are filled with mischief and triumph. "I want to hear you say it again,"
"Jaime," She manages to squeak out before biting her lips shut.
One of his hands cup her chin. His touches her lips with his thumb and parts them with a soft pull. "Was he good?" His lips are close to hers. In one movement, they could be kissing.
Sansa almost squirms in their close position. "N—no."
"What?" He seems surprised by this revelation as suddenly pulls away from her.
"He—we didn't touch," A blush overwhelms her flushed face. Seven hells.
"Good,"
Then Jaime's mouth is on hers. His hands are on her waist. Hers around his neck. Their teeth clash in her inexperience but only add fuel to their delayed reunion. This should've been the way she greeted him when he got back to King's Landing. Jaime is gentle with her—caressing her lips sensually by placing chaste kisses once or twice before deepening the kiss. Something wet runs through her lower lip making her yelp. Then his tongue is inside her mouth. Her hands are no longer around his neck but gripping his hair tightly as he consumes her. This should've been how her first kiss was like. Not with the bastard Joffrey but with a man like Jaime. Heavens, he is a wonderful kisser.
Then he pulls away, "I'm sorry."
She inhales sharply before looking at him with her wide Tully eyes. "What—what's happening?"
"I shouldn't be taking advantage of you," He turns around and runs an exhausted hand through his face.
"You're not," She insists while walking forward and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I—I liked it," Blood pumps on her cheeks to indicate her reluctance to admit what she was thinking. He stills beneath her fingers so she uses this vulnerable opportunity to let him face her again. His Lannister pride deflates in horror of what he has done so she cups his regretful expression and traces a line from his forehead to his nose to remove any visible signs of distress. "Jaime," For the first time, Sansa initiates the kiss. Her soft lips leave chaste kisses on his forehead, each of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally, his soft lips. His eyes close in response to her touch, It's a weird feeling—having a man depend on you to pull himself together. She knows that he's old enough to be her father, but she can't help but want him. He was the first man besides her father to make her feel welcomed in King's Landing. He was the one who made her feel safe against Joffrey. He makes her feel as if she is the most beautiful woman in Westeros by his heavy stares that she's sure he wasn't aware of. He can be a crass bastard at times but she knows that his jokes mean nothing but teasing. It's decided then. Sansa's infatuated with Jaime Lannister. May the gods help them all. "Touch me,"
His eyes open in shock of her statement. He watches as she pulls away from him to lift the ribbons of her cloak. Her eyes never leave his as the material falls on the floor to make a statement of her submission. Walking backwards the door, Sansa makes sure that the lock is securely in place before shyly biting her lips and removing the pins from her hair. The Tully red hair she inherited from her mother falls in shocking waves just above her waist. Jaime's eyes do not waver as she slowly shakes her hair to model her face better.
"Well?" She tries to make her voice sound confident.
Jaime clears his throat. The pupils of his eyes are darker as he begins to breathe heavily. "You—are you s—sure?"
"Yes," Her innocent blue eyes are honest and raw.
With that one word, Jaime becomes more confident. "Turn around,"
She walks slowly towards him and does as he says. Their intense breathing mix together in a pleasurable music when he begins his mission to remove her from the confines of her wedding gown. His fingertips graze her neck as he tries to work around her hair making her breath hitch in response. He is in the middle part of her gown when she starts to talk, "You seem experienced with undressing a woman," She does not let him know of her jealousy.
"I used to help my mother with her clothes when I was little," He mutters in response as if he's too busy admiring unwrapping her.
"Hmm," Sansa tries to peek behind her but finds it difficult so she surveys the room. It's warm enough meaning that he's been here for a while. The chambermaids seem to have cleaned it since there are no more cloths lying around or any pins or beauty products.
Her thoughts deteriorate when she feels Jaime's hands on her shoulders to push the heavy material away. Slowly, her gown seeps on the floor in a large pile leaving her only wearing her small clothes. She's practically naked in front of him and yet he's still wearing his armor. Sansa's breathing becomes labored. This is the first time a man's going to see her as naked as her nameday. Jaime gathers her hair and pushes it away from her back. His lips are suddenly leaving a trail from her exposed shoulder to her neck. Oh gods. Sansa's legs give out when he starts sucking on one particular spot.
"It's unfair," She manages to get out between gasps.
"What?" His lips form the word on her neck.
"I'm almost naked and yet you're fully clothed,"
He maneuvers her body around so their chests are flushed together. "Would you like to give me a hand?"
She glares at him at the innuendo but starts removing his heavy armor. His spaulder comes off first, then his breastplate, then his chain vest, then his cuisse. Little by little, Jaime Lannister becomes more human than a knight before her eyes, and by the creation of the gods, does he become more beautiful. This only leaves him wearing his tunic and trousers. Sansa gulps nervously as her fingers hover below the ends of his tunic. Neither of them move until Jaime's hands guide hers to bring it above his head. It falls to the floor with the rest of his armor and her gown.
She doesn't know how her hands found their way across his chest but she's certainly not complaining. His continuous practices must be the reason why his pectoral muscles and torso remain in tight and hard condition. His hand stops hers before she can go any lower.
He smirks and pulls her closer. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss. Once, twice, thrice, until Jaime's tongue leaves a wet trail on her bottom lip. She opens her mouth eagerly, wanting him closer. They kiss for a short while before Jaime trails both his hands from her hair, to her back, then to her waist, and finally, to her bottom. He squeezes experimentally before lifting her. She jumps into his tight arms and wrap her long legs around his lean waist.
The mattress is soft and inviting as he lays her gently on it. Smiling mischievously, Jaime Lannister pulls her smallclothes up her body so she lays there naked. Her hands starts to cover her private spots in response but he stops them to pin them above her head while he climbs on top of her and trails hot, wet kisses from her ear to her neck. Sansa gasps in surprise as he suddenly bites her neck before peppering kisses on her chest. She feels his grip loosen as his kisses move lower and lower until his soft lips reach her most private spot. Her legs are still dangling pathetically on the edge of her bed so his task is quite easy for him.
Without warning, he kisses both her thighs then parts her legs before kissing his way inside her.
"Jaime!" She grips his hair tightly when he starts his ministrations. It's impossible for him not to have done this before since he's too much of an expert already. Oh gods gods gods gods gods gods. The pressure in building on her core, her pants echo inside the room, he is still kissing her there. Within seconds, Sansa is writing in pleasure as Jaime Lannister steals her innocence.
He is grinning triumphantly when he kisses his way up. "You taste so good,"
She sits up, "T—that was amazing," Her cheeks are flushed from her euphoria but a heavy blush still manages to make it shown on her face as she confesses her feelings. "C—can I do the same for you?"
He maneuvers the bodies deeper on the large bed before shaking his head. "All in good time, Lady Wolf. Tonight, it's all about you."
It's not over yet? Sansa thinks giddily of what's coming next. If the beginning is this good, what else will come? Oh no. Her thoughts are beginning to mirror those of a whore.
He is above her. The only item separating them is his trousers. Jaime leans his upper body on the headboard and beckons her closer. She is still a bit shy from moving around with no clothes on that she's blushing the whole way. "Put your legs on either side of mine, love." She complies. "Move closer," She wraps her arms around his neck and moves closer. Something hard presses against her most intimate part. Is that? Jaime's lips are once again on her neck. "Do you feel that?" He whispers when he reaches her ear. She closes her eyes to let herself feel him better. She gasps when he rocks his body slowly against hers. "That's what you do to me, Sansa. You consume my every thought. You're body is forged by the gods themselves. I am merely a lowly mortal fooling myself that a love goddess could want me as much as I want her."
She whimpers at the friction he's creating. It has only been a short while since her first orgasm so her folds are still sensitive.
"Do you want me?"
"I—I want you," She is bouncing on top of him as he creates a slow pace.
Then she's on her back. She mirrors his lustful expression as he slowly pulls off his last remaining item of clothing. Her eyes widen at his size. Could he fit inside me? Her eyes widen in hesitation.
"Are you still sure about this, my lady?"
She nods.
"It's going to hurt,"
"I don't care."
He parts her legs wider as he settles in between them. He brushes Sansa's wet hair from her face and kisses her forehead. "I've never been with a blushing maiden before,"
"I'm not a maiden," Her intake of breath becomes more and more heavy when his member starts massaging her folds. "I'm a wife,"
That's all it takes for him to push and break her barrier. Tears of painful surprise fall from Sansa's eyes as she tries to get used to having a man inside her. Why does it hurt so much? She whimpers in pain.
"Shh shh it'll pass. It'll be alright," Jaime is kissing her tears away. He feels a bit guilty for agreeing to his lady's request. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No no no no no," The pain is beginning to subdue. "You can move now,"
He nods and grants her request. The pulling out is still as painful as when he first came in but when it happens the second time, the pain is mixed with something more pleasurable.
"Harder,"
"As you wish,"
Their bodies become glistening gods as they maintain an agreeable pace for both of them. Their breathing become more labored and more intense as it becomes longer. Jaime kisses whatever his lips can reach while trying to muffle his groans of pleasure. If anyone hears them, surely one of them would have their head on a spike. Somehow the forbidden activity makes the whole situation more appealing.
"Faster, Jaime, faster." She reaches her peak before him but he follows soon after. They both cry out each other's names as they ride their pleasure in happiness. He remains buried inside her as he collapses on top of her. Sansa brushes the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead and kisses it gently. Jaime pulls out after a while to spoon her to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day for them to face, but tonight is different.
In that moment, nothing mattered. Not Robb, not Arya, not Cersei, not Tyrion. No one. They're two individuals who professed their love by consummation. To hell with everyone.
*Dyllon*
He has taken refuge on top of the wall. Ever since her arrival, he'd been restless. Not only is the person whom he dedicated years of loathing to merely a few steps away but the relentless questions he had gathered overtime started to whirl messily in his head. Only when he started to spend most of his day on the look-out post—an area farthest from where she is—did he find solace. The web of curiosity starts to be converted into short questions—most of which involving his father.
The heating charm that he had cast on his cloak proves to be effective as the cold Northern air only manages to nip at the few exposed skin. A few flurries pass him, creating an icy droplet on his thick hair. He runs his hand through the soft, icy strands. Seven hells. He should not have wet his hair before going up the peak of the wall.
"Your father did like staring at blank spaces too,"
He turns to find her staring at him. Her eyes hold that same emotion when she first saw him. It is a mixture of melancholic wonder and bewilderment. He stares at her standing figure wearing a dark blue cloak that hides whatever flattering gown she's wearing right now. "I don't—I'm not normally like this," He finds himself stuttering in her presence.
He gives her a reluctant nod when she indicates her desire to sit across from him. Nathalia certainly is beautiful. He can't help but think that his mother is too. What is so special about this exotic beauty that has his father too melancholic?
"You're not your father," This freezes him in place. How long had he played a scenario in his head that pictures her as a wanton trollop? Now here she is, telling him words that he'd always wanted to hear.
"You don't know me well," The stubborn side of him is winning the battle to be cordial with her.
They lock eyes. Her eye color is a dull black made attractive by their seductive shape. "But I know your father quite well," Then a soft smile touches her face. "I've seen you talk to those people. You're far more talkative than Gabriel, I'll tell you that."
They both laugh at the observation. It's true. He has never met a livelier group than the men of the Night's Watch and Wildlings. Their energetic persona is enough to spark his chattier attitude.
"Are you enjoying it in Westeros?"
"Only now," He muses. "When I first arrived, it was a bit of a bore."
"Yet wars do tend to bring excitement,"
"Does it ever grow old?"
"Wars?"
"The glory,"
Her head shakes and an unknown twinkle lights her eyes. "No. Not just the glory, but the gratitude these people give you." She stares at him again, bites her lip, then chuckles. "Maybe someday you'll make your name immortal. People in Westeros are very fond of romanticizing us Guardians,"
"Is that why you didn't return to our Kingdom?"
The happy aura they've created is diminished to a tense one. Nathalia sucks a long deep, breath before speaking. "Are you asking me if your father ever asked me to come with him? To return home with him?"
Too upset to stay still from where he is sitting, he stands. "Yes,"
Nathalia doesn't follow suit and lets the ice seep through her cloak. "Your father and I—our relationship—it wasn't normal,"
"Well he fooled me," He bites bitterly.
Alarm invades her eyes as she stares at him. "What do you mean?"
The anger and frustration he's been keeping inside rushes back to the surface as he finally says what he's been keeping locked up ever since his youth when he realized his father and mother do not love each other. "I hated you. By the gods, how I hated you."
She has a resigned look in her eyes as if she's been waiting for this moment, but he can't stop himself.
"You are the first and final thought in his head every day. He didn't have to tell me. I could see it through his eyes." His voice starts cracking—releasing all pent up aggravation toward her. "My mother—she didn't do anything about it. She didn't want to, she didn't care. They were neutral. All they both wanted were heirs. Well they got me, and my sister. That wasn't the worst part. They pretended that we were a happy family. We took supper together, lived together, and worshipped the gods together. But every night—every night—mother and father would retreat to their individual quarters as if they could go back as strangers."
"Y—you haven't said my name," Nathalia's eyes are brimmed with tears. "You talk of your family and yet you have given me no reason on why you blame me,"
He kneels in front of her. Angry tears cascade down his cheeks as he stares at the woman he blamed for his family's condition. "Father…he was an orphan. You know this, of course, how could you not?" he is muttering to himself now. "When I was young, I've always wondered why my father would take me to your home. Your parents treated us like family, you see, and I've always known them as family. I often wondered how they could be if my mother's parents were of different features and my father's are dead. Then I saw him…"
"Who?" Nathalia could not help but push through the painful conversation for the sake of closure.
"My father—Gabriel, one of the best trainers in the Kingdom, weeping." He spits the last word as if this was the last moment he has known Gabriel as his father.
Somehow, Nathalia always knew Gabriel would be training guardians. A strong one like him could never stay put in a peaceful life. Despite his calm demeanor, Gabriel has always been fond of danger.
"I was never allowed in one particular room, Nathalia, and it was your room. Imagine my surprise to see my father kneeling in front of a painted picture of a woman who was neither my mother nor any woman of my acquaintance."
Nathalia takes his face between her hands, and cries for the debris of her fallen love. "I'm so sorry."
Dyllon holds her hand with his and tightly claps as if making sure she's really present. "It was the night I realized that, in another world, my father would have been happy." He looks deep in her eyes. His eyes are the only excuse he could ever have in letting anyone know he is not his father's copy. "In another world, you could have been my mother."
How strange is it? A boy her age kneeling and crying like a small babe, and telling her she could have been the one who raised him. Telling her she could have prevented all the pain. They did the only thing connected strangers do in vulnerable times. They cried.
I know I know I know…you're all curious on who is Gabriel in Nathalia's past life. Don't worry. I'm planning to give you all a background on their relationship. It's a tragic one—obviously.
Soooo any reactions of Sansa and Jaime's steamy night?
What would you all think of a world of Nathalia and Gabriel ending up together? Poor Jon.
Review Replies (Because I'm overwhelmed by many who replied!)
Princess of Mirkwood2 – Here you go thank you for staying with me through my loooong break.
Guest – I'm not promising anything but I hope I can write new chapters during the winter break.
– Ooh hope you weren't weirded out by the Sansa/Jaime smut
CrystalVixen93 – Oooh your name's so feisty! (Nathalia would approve) I hope you like the turnout of events in this new chapter.
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BIG SHOUTOUT TO bfireworks5 for your many reviews! Thank you so much!