Previously on PotG: Sansa and Tyrion get married (but don't share the marriage bed). Sansa, instead, surprisingly spends the night with Jaime. Nathalia and Dyllon finally have their much-awaited conversation.

Chapter 30 This Will be Over Soon

*Nathalia*

Dyllon and Alessandra stand obediently on either one of her sides. The night is tense and quiet as it watches history unfold itself. Mance Rayder stands tall—albeit a bit weak on one side but still a born leader—and proud as he waits what happens next with his Wildlings.

"You've taken a great risk in asking help from the night's watch." She comments. The older man grunts in return as he tries to balance his weight on his weak side. "They could have killed you, you know that?"

"I know," His voice is too weak for a man who declared himself to be strong enough for travelling.

Risking proprieties—though she never really cared for them—Nathalia steps forwards and takes his cheek by her hand. "The lord commander has given you a day's worth before the night's watch is dissolved into groups to hunt you down. I suggest you make it worth your while," Chanting a small prayer inside her head, she heals him. The King Beyond the Wall gasps in surprise as new energy enters his body. "Are you going to be all right?"

Mance Rayder laughs in amusement. "Yes, I will be. Stop fretting."

She gives him a pointed look. "You're injured. Of course I will be worried,"

They embrace each other shortly as to give the satisfaction of a happy parting. The men outside of the wall have a long winter ahead of them as they try their best to re-establish their colony. Maybe if the war has ended, Nathalia would be back to offer a helping hand.

As soon as the two parted, the wildlings and the men who have been friendly with each other greet one another hesitantly as if they are just realizing that the next time they see each other would be for bloodshed. Nathalia hears Ygritte's laugh as Alessandra hugs her. Inhaling a bit of cold air for good luck, Nathalia makes her way to them. The wildling woman's relaxed stance turns tense when she catches sight of her approaching.

"I apologize for the cold treatment I gave you," She speaks first, and hesitantly touches Ygritte's arm. "It was unconsciously done."

The woman reluctantly offers her best smile, "It's not every day somebody riles a helper by just 'er presence,"

Nathalia finally smiles truthfully in front of Ygritte, "I'll leave you two alone. Safe travels, Ygritte." She feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders. Ygritte might be a threat for her future decision but, for now, she would relish in the security of her and Jon's relationship.

She watches as the rest of the wildlings gather what armor they have carried and start to move out of the wall. This might be the longest time people from beyond the wall have not been killed inside these walls. It's saddening to think that some people's beliefs that they're savages still hasn't changed despite spending so much time with them and even fighting with them. She sends her strongest of protection winds around them since no one could ever know what really lies beyond the wall except for the gods. The last one out is their last surviving giant. Then the walls close again.

The air shifted as if everybody starts to realize that they get to kill one of those people in their next mission.

Nathalia stares heavily at the closed doors before a gentle tap on her shoulders bring her attention back to reality. Alessandra is smiling knowingly at her before gesturing towards the awaiting guardians behind them. There are only eight guardians left from the last coven sent. Two had died protecting the men from the wights, and had been given the proper burial a guardian deserves. Three men and five women stare with questioning eyes. They're still finding their way inside Westeros. Nathalia secretly hopes that the chaos of this land does not disappoint them.

"Follow me," She orders.

They do what she says until they arrive inside her and Alessandra's chambers. The normally acceptable space becomes small as she stares at the grown men and women waiting for her orders.

"As you all should know, there is a war within Westeros." She starts her rehearsed speech. "There will be bloodshed, many will die. I won't guarantee that you'll live to spend more time in Westeros or go home."

"I'll risk it," A voice interrupts her. She looks at the source of the voice and sees a dark-skinned guardian staring with finality. "I didn't come to Westeros to be safe. I came here to help,"

Feeling a bit proud, Nathalia lets a small smile invade her stoic face. "Anyone else?"

The rest murmur their agreement. She knows that the only selfish reason why guardians help the mortals is that they want their name to be immortal (like hers). She has no judgments. She was like them once too.

Smiling, she holds out her hands to her fellow guardians. One by one, they hold hands. A new coven is formed by the grace of the gods and the will of their powers. Together, they chant an unbreakable bond between them that allows everyone to send the fastest of whispers to their members. This is a ritual made by the newest coven from their kingdom. Only in the wars do this formation of a new coven happen.

Nathalia meets Alessandra's eyes from across the circle they have made. Together, they smile in assurance.

"May the gods guide us through this war," Dyllon surprisingly pitches in. He exchanges a small nod with Nathalia before turning to speak quietly with his prodigy. Lately, they've been trying to create a friendship solely dedicated to the alliance they've made. Nathalia also notices how Dyllon seems to follow Alessandra like some pup—though it doesn't appear to be emasculating for him. Hmm. Something must have happened before she arrived. She knows she shouldn't intrude on their personal lives but she can't help but be curious.

"When do we go to Robb Stark's camp?" The dark-skinned woman asks her.

Alessandra takes charge like she's been doing before Nathalia arrived back. Pride shines through Nathalia's eyes as her dearest friend proves to be as strong as she believed she really is. "Soon. For now, you all need to rest. We'll need all the energy we can get,"

"What's Robb Stark like?" Their eyes fall on a short guardian. His surprised reaction at getting all their attention is quite endearing seeing as he looks helpless but is one of their best.

Nathalia purses her lips thoughtfully. The answer falls on her since she's the only one who appears to have met the infamous king of the north. "He's…quite rebellious," She continues at their sudden surprise, "But he's on his way to become a good leader. We're all entitled to teach him a thing or two,"

"He's hard-headed? Is that what you're trying to tell us?" Dyllon's protégé stares at them with cold, grey eyes. He seems to be pissed off that he's to serve a stupid king.

Nathalia narrows her eyes. He reminds her too much of Rose with his almost-sneer. "Robb Stark fights for the freedom of his sister for now. When he realizes that he has joined the game of thrones, he will continue to fight—but smarter and cunning. We'll help him through the transition." She looks at them all. "Remember, as guardians, we help for peace—not for mortals to gain their power. We simply must choose the most honorable side,"

With that, she dismisses them.

She hopes that Robb Stark has enough sense to back down from his silent disagreement with her and ask Steffon to send a whisper or else she would have a harder time convincing them that he's not just a boy waiting his death in the games.

*Jon Snow*

His brother has never been more irritable ever since Steffon has returned and announced to everyone how Tywin has forced Sansa to marry the imp. He almost snarls his response to his subjects when they go on their daily council meeting. Even his blushing bride couldn't do anything but comfort him in the confines of their tent. His brother doesn't even listen to the woman's suggestions or any of her attempts to calm him whenever he got too frustrated.

Deep down, Jon knows how Robb only wants the security of having Nathalia back on their side. If only he wasn't so stubborn.

He is pushed to the ground as another blow is done by the smug guardian. He looks up to see a smirking Steffon sweating against his white tunic.

"Something on your mind, Snow?"

He dusts himself before standing. He blows a heavy breath having underestimated the pressure of Steffon's blow. The guardian is obviously lying about only learning how to swordfight when Jon suggested to teach him. "Robb's an idiot,"

"Careful, bastard, just a little louder and his bannermen would be reporting to him." The sentence might have been threatening if it had not been for the laugh escaping the golden-haired guardian.

"A little order for you to send the lightest whisper would suffice in bringing her back here," Jon grumbles and takes his stance once more.

The first blow is blocked by Steffon, "If you long for your lover that much, Jon, the only thing to do is to convince your brother to do as you want."

Jon manages to send the other man stumbling a few steps and smirks, "Distract Lady Catelyn and I'll see what I can manage,"

"The woman hates you," Thank you for the obvious reason.

"I thought that part was given," He finishes their swordfight using a tactic his late father had taught him. Steffon grumbles at how guardians were not taught how to fight using physical means enough.

They both dust themselves before going to a nearby tent and washing away all the grime they've collected in the past couple of days. Without Nathalia with him, Jon doesn't know how to place himself with his brother's men. His only companion is a too sarcastic guardian who is too eager to tease him about his relationship with Nathalia. Apparently the man is amused by how their most known guardian can manage to explore battle strategies while keeping a man on her bed. So far, Jon has learned how to tolerate his remarks—even going so far as to calling him a friend.

A murmur of silence passes the camp as Karstark makes his way to Robb Stark's tent. Lately, the older man has made it his mission to send Steffon back to King's Landing and retrieve their Lannister prisoner. His distrust has been made stronger once he learned that the lone helper had returned alone and without the golden Lannister knight.

Steffon chuckles at the tension. "He's about to blow, that one."

Jon laughs after making sure no men of Karstark is nearby. "Robb's been complaining about that bastard for days. Says Karstark is petitioning the same thing everyday—as if Robb would suddenly change his mind."

"If he does, Nathalia will surely murder him."

The frightful thing is, Jon isn't sure if Steffon was joking or not. "So how was King's Landing?" He changes the subject as he removes his tunic. Their propriety is only important if Catelyn or Robb's bride is around.

Steffon shakes his wet hair, making small droplets fly everywhere. He always does that. "Cersei Lannister is a vicious, power-hungry woman and her spawn is about the same—only a bit worse."

"I distrusted that boy ever since I've seen him in Winterfell. Something was off about him,"

"Well you heard the rumours,"

Steffon says that too quietly that Jon almost forgets to catch it. "What rumours?"

The helper looks at him pointedly as if he's apprehensive about telling the gossip. "That King Joffrey is a bastard—that he's not a real Baratheon."

"What?"

"Apparently, his mother and her twin had been—together,"

"Together?"

"…lain together,"

"Lain?"
"…made love,"

"What?"

"Jaime has been inside Cersei—!"

Jon begins to shake his head thoroughly. He doesn't need to know the details. "Yes, yes. I get it. The idea just can't seem to work its way inside my head,"

A chuckle escapes the guardian. "Jaime Lannister may be more—ahem—proper now but stories would say otherwise,"

"Does Sansa—?"

"No no I don't believe she does. If she did, I doubt her friendship with the Lannister lion would even exist,"

Fury overtakes Jon's handsome features. "And he plans on lying to her for how long? From what you tell me, she's quite take with him."

A heavy hand is laid upon the bastard's shoulder. "Fret not, Snow, for these are only rumors."

Jon huffs in annoyance. The rumors would not start without any sort of evidence to claim it.

A sudden crashing of metallic utensils turns their attention to a seething Edmure Tully exiting Robb's tent. It is a different picture from a red-faced Karstark but it does not help Robb's reputation as a king. If his bannermen continue to walk out on him, any chance of respect from other great lords will prove to be more difficult to attain.

"Gods, what has he done now," Steffan says what came right to Jon's mind.

Robb Stark exits his tent looking furious. He immediately barks their names when he spots them and walks back to his tent. The dirty grey entryway flapping angrily against the cold wind of the north.

"We're needed apparently," Jon grumbles.

They both chuckle before grabbing the next available clean tunic and reporting to their king.

Robb Stark is an angry flurry of pacing steps. His thick coat whips angrily with the cold northern air. Jon and Steffon exchange a look of contemplation before speaking,

"You called for us, Robb?" Jon is first, always the one to calm his brother.

The king of the north sighs heavily before finally resting himself on one of the chairs. The tent houses the battle tactics for the northerners. A huge table cradles the map of the seven kingdoms filled with flags of every considered allies and vantage points. "I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?"

Jon can't help the chuckle from escaping him. "A bit, yes"

A sharp look is directed at him. "You're supposed to disagree!"

The bastard walks towards his brother and lays a heavy hand on the king's shoulder. "I'm your brother. Like it or not, I keep my opinions honest." He backs away and grabs another chair to sit on. "Believe me when I tell you this that Nathalia won't take kindly to your stubbornness—especially since she's a stubborn one, herself."

"You got that right," Steffon managed to grab himself a cup of ale before sitting with them in a triad circle. "I can send whispers now, if you want. She'll come as soon as she hears your apology,"

Robb loosens the knot of his coat before letting it rest on the ground. Jon winces at how Talisa will be the one to always clean after her husband. The woman is already regarded with contempt as it is. She doesn't need the extra work of sidelining as Robb's personal maid. If he does that to Nathalia, he would receive nothing but the cold shoulder and perhaps a weird chant in retaliation.

"Have your received any word from her?"

Steffon and Jon exchange another look, one that is noticed by their king.

"You have," Robb exclaims in realization. "Why have you not told me? Don't you think I deserve to know?"

Jon puts a steady hand out before his brother could explode. "We didn't think it was important. It was nothing directed at you,"

Robb exhales once more. "Well what did she say?"

Steffon takes his cue to inform Robb of Nathalia. "She has returned to the wall. Her ally is there, along with a few more guardians. If she succeeds—which she will, she always does—you might have a coven on your side, your grace."

"Gods," Robb cranes his neck in disbelief. "How many?"

"No less than ten,"

"And they'll pledge their allegiance to me?"

"Not allegiance, their help"

"Send word," The king suddenly stands.

"What?" Jon makes way for his frantic brother.

Robb grins at them. "Edmure Tully will be marrying Lord Frey's daughter. Send word that I want her for the wedding,"

"With your apologies?" Jon manages to squeeze before Robb exits his tent.

"Whatever makes her come back!"

*Sansa Stark*

Sansa's skirts sway gently with the refreshing winds of King's Landing. A contented smile plays on her beautiful face as a quiet hymn slips from her mouth. Her handmaidens were all very curious when the young Stark—not Lannister—appears to have been well-rested after her wedding night. A playful grin held its strength the whole day, making them assume that the imp really is well-versed in bed.

A hand grabs her arm when she turns a corner. Immediately, she begins the action of a scream before a familiar mouth covers hers and a moan is released instead. She begins to reciprocate the sensual gesture for a few moments before remembering her propriety and pulling away. Jaime Lannister smiles naughtily as he traces her face with his steady hand.

"Good day, Lady Lannister." His lips trace the words on her forehead as she closes her eyes in satisfaction.

After allowing herself a few moments of peace, Sansa begins to pull away and place a foot between them. "You're not being discreet, Ser Jaime,"

He chuckles amusedly when she places a hand on his chest to keep him in place. "There's no one here,"

"You and I both know that your sister has ears everywhere," She hisses. "We must not falter with the guise," Natasha and Shae are too busy plotting a possible escape to notice her disappearance every night.

She doesn't seem to have the strength to prevent him from wrapping his arms around her lean waist. "Yes, but the day is so young. I couldn't wait for the sun to lower."

She caresses her pouting face with her soft hand, "One would question your ferociousness when they hear your words. The day will end, Jaime. It always does." She pushes him away and starts to walk to her destination. "Now is a good time to learn patience,"

She hears his grumble of "Fuck patience," before laughing her way to tea with Margaery Tyrell.

The guards bow to her before opening the door to the gardens. Her meeting with Margaery turned into a daily one. Both Olenna and Margaery had taken it upon themselves to equip their strategy with knowledge of Joffrey. Once Natasha had found out her deal, the young guardian guides Sansa on what to say and how to act in front of the Tyrell family.

This time, Sansa would not be surprised. She is learning fast about the game of thrones and finds it easier to stay as far away from the crown as possible. For now, she is focusing on using her innocence as a weapon to fool them into thinking she has no idea what goes on in the games.

"Sansa, my sweet!" Olenna Tyrell greets as soon as their eyes meet. Ever since Sansa had told her about Joffrey's animalistic tendencies, she has taken it upon herself to butter Sansa with compliments and lemon cakes.

The new Lady Lannister smiles tentatively as she approaches the grinning soon-to-be-bride of Joffrey and her cunning grandmother.

"Good noon, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery," She curtsies deeply as a sign of respect and takes a seat beside Margaery and across Lady Olenna.

"Sansa! You're glowing," Margaery gushes as she takes little nips of the served lemon cakes.

Blushing, she replies "Thank you, I've been most fortunate that Lord Tyrion is a kind man."

"He has to be with that face," Lady Olenna has proven to be the most honest—sometimes to the point of hurtful. "We apologize that your wedding with my grandson did not push through."

"It's all right, Lady Olenna. I don't think Tyrion is similar with his nephew," She could get punished for this, she knows, but she has to pretend to be a naïve girl in order to appease her so-called only friends in King's Landing.

"Ah he has given you the honor of calling him by his given name," Olenna takes charge of the conversation. "Wise boy, that Tyrion. I remember meeting him as a child. Ugly, but full of useful ideas. It's a shame his father hated him."

"It is, indeed." Margaery gives a coy smile to Sansa and serves her one of the lemon cakes. They've been using her fondness of lemon cakes to make her come—a treat, if you ask Sansa. "My wedding with Joffrey is coming sooner than expected. I trust you'll be there?"

She replies with her mouth full of delicious lemon cake. "Yes, of course!"

"Hmp, if he wasn't the soon-to-be king, I'd be marrying you off to Jaime Lannister instead."

Sansa tenses at that and forces herself to swallow the rest of the cake.

"Grandmother!" Lady Margaery bashfully hidesa giggle with her hand.

"Well he is a handsome man! So gallant—his obsession with his sister seems to have wavered," Then Lady Olenna's sharp eyes locks with Sansa's alarmed ones. "Ever since meeting the new Lady Lannister, apparently. I trust that your marriage has been consummated?"

"What?"

"Your marriage? Consumated? With Lord Tyrion?" The Queen of Thorns prods "Tywin wants his Lannister heir soon, I think. It's quite curious how your marriage bed was not used." Then she turns to the ever present music players surrounding them, "LOUDER YOU FOOLS!"

Beads of sweat start to drip from Sansa's flawless face. Oh why did she not take Jaime's request to skip this lunch?

"Sansa," Margaery says, sickly sweet. "We know of your relationship with the Kingslayer."

"W—What do you mean?" Her voice falters. Oh how she wishes Natasha to be hear.

"Do you think me for a fool, girl?" Lady Olenna's gentle tone is paradoxical to what she was saying. "I've outlive the wars. I'm an old woman. I know of Nathalia—I've seen her precious beady eyes and small figure. A tad more beautiful than her sister—oh what does she call herself—Natasha, is it?"

She does not speak for what could she say to sway the opinion of the cunning Queen of Thorns?

"We ask you, simply, to trust us." Margaery lays a hand on top of hers. "This will be over soon,"

Oh can't she just have one peaceful lunch with them?

THIS WAS ROTTING ON MY LAPTOP. I'm so sorry! Time has been a bitch to me that I couldn't find time to write my thoughts. Hopefully this update would satisfy you all. The next chapters will be eventful, I promise you.

Review Replies:

Bfireworks5: Hey I'm back We'll find out what happens with Dyllon soon ;) and Gabriel might make a special appearance.

Dark Serpent Cat: Aw I didn't marry Sansa to Jaime because Jaimie is still part of the Kingsguard and they vow to never marry. Sorry if that plotline is not satisfactory to you.

Francisvirus: To be honest, I've always been fond of Robb. I just hated the decisions he made. Hopefully Nathalia might be of some help with that.

Nakamoto Taree: Ohhh my heart is full! Thank you for your kind review! Yes, I thought the same thing. I didn't want my heroine to be clueless and helpless. I've always loved a great female character.