Hey gang! I love you guys so much thanks for the support, I know I disappear off the face of the earth sometimes but don't worry this story is still going. I struggled with this chapter, hope it doesn't show too much haha. I've decided to change to past tense too rather than present from now on, it's just what I write more naturally in.
Appreciation goes out to all you new followers and favourites - I'm over a hundred followers now and I never even expected one so thank you, you keep me dedicated.
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Special thanks to reviewers - lilnightmare17, MySoulIsTainted (so glad the tension is coming across, hope this chapter will continue that), and minstorai (Thanks, couldn't wait for Nieve to meet Ghost, so happy you liked it.)
Please review more if you can - I really want to know what you think. So without much further adieu...
Chapter 8 - Once bitten, twice not so shy
The water had begun losing it's heat; but it still felt warmer than the cold air surrounding her exposed skin. Nieve dunked under the surface, pinching her nose as she held her breath, desperate and content to stay in the warmth for as long as possible. She liked the stillness and the silence underwater - the way time slowed down, everything felt more sensitive; intensified. She could feel her hairs tickle her shoulder, she even managed to open her eyes, catching sight of a tiny bubble escaping for her pinched nose. But soon, the shallow condensed pressure pushing on her ears forced her to break surface again. She rose gasping, her moment of serenity choked out of her. She propped herself back up to rest against the bath, catching sight of Ghost stretched out across her bed. He had raised his head concerned at the sudden disappearance into the water, but seeing her back up he settled, laying his head back down on his paws.
"You just make yourself comfortable why don't you?" She said sarcastically to the creature. Ghost just looked at her, his expression bored and pitiful at the same time. "I'm gonna need to fit into that bed too at some point, y'know."
Nieve looked down at her body, she was getting goosebumps. Time to get out, she thought with a disappointed sigh. Dripping as she stepped out, she reached for her towel, drying her hair first so as to not catch the cold. She was totally exposed but she wasn't uncomfortable with being naked, in Dorne human anatomy was appreciated no matter the shape, size or colour, if someone didn't end up naked at a Dornish feast then the event would have been considered a failure. But she suddenly became very self-conscious that the wolf was watching her.
What if Jon is aware of his warging abilities, what if he's mastered them already and using them to keep an eye on me, maybe that's why he's demanded Ghost to guard me.
Ghost's expression hadn't changed, he still looked bored and tired, so she chucked it down to paranoia. She swiftly jerked the towel around herself, shuddering only mostly at the cold. She didn't know why the idea bothered her so much; Many men had seen her naked, more than she cared to remember. She didn't just take after her father's temper and fight, but his fiery demand for pleasure in locked chamber rooms. She was not an heir by blood so no exceptions were required of her to be tactically married off to some lord, and so she had taken full advantage of that freedom. As a result she was slightly too familiar with the whorehouses round Sunspeare. But now, at the thought that Snow could be watching, she didn't like the strange burn she felt in her stomach, and although it was warm, it was still unfamiliar.
She shrugged on a tunic, and twisted her damp hair up into a bun, securing it in place with a silver pin - A long silver pin with a snake spiralling around a sharp spear. It had been given to her by her father, a farewell present before she was shipped off to Braavos. Nieve crossed over to the fireplace, her bare feet dancing on the cold stone floor. She threw a few more logs pieces onto the fire, hoping that would fuel it for a couple more hours as she drifted off to sleep. She loved the sound of crackling wood on fire, it was a rare occasion to have a fire going in Dorne, it was always so hot it's unnecessary. She thought about putting on britches to keep her warm before she tucked into bed but she'd only been given black furs and leather clothes which didn't look comfortable, and she'd have to wear them tomorrow anyway, whilst her own furs where being washed. She managed to lift the bed sheet, and shuffle herself into the small bed even with Ghost strewn across it, blissfully unconcerned that he was taking up most of the space. Nieve was about to blow out the candle nearest to her bedside table when she heard a knock.
She huffed, getting out of bed to answer it.
It's late but he was still in full commander attire, snow and frost clinging to his furs and he radiated the freeze even a good metre away. Nieve wanted to shudder just looking at him.
"Snow." She said stiffly.
"Sand." Jon said just as stiff. His eyes flickered just for a second down her body, then back up again.
Nieve crossed her legs, immediately regretting not putting on the britches.
Jon cleared his throat and continued, "I trust you had a good bath?"
"Yes, thank you." Nieve said, her words polite but her expression suspicious, remembering again the paranoia she felt at Ghost watching her.
Jon nodded. If he was watching he wasn't showing any sign of seeing anything he shouldn't have. Nieve stepped to the side a little, holding the door open to him in invitation. Jon looked taken aback but hesitantly he accepts, walking gingerly into her chambers, and his eyes fall onto a sleeping Ghost spread across the bed and he smiled.
"Apologies for Ghost," he said, "I know how stubborn he can be about sleeping on the floor. Unfortunately what little chambers we have with bigger beds have gone to Stannis' men."
Nieve closed the door and stands next to Jon, arms folded, face smug as she watched the Direwolf, breathing light snores. "Well I wasn't going to risk losing an arm trying to get him off the bed, besides, he'll keep me warm." She smiled. "Which is more than I can say for you." Nieve added, turning to look at the frost still bound in Jon's hair and beard. "Do you still take watch duty? Even as Lord Commander?" She asked, eyebrows raised.
Jon nodded, removing his gloves and turning his back to edge towards the fireplace. "We're the Watcher's on the Wall - every man must do his duty, equally and fairly."
Nieve was glad Jon couldn't see the impressed expression on her face. He stared into the flames intently, his body stiff and slightly hunched, like he's been holding the literal weight of the wall on his shoulders.
"And who said you could use my fireplace, Snow?" Nieve jested. She saw his cheeks lift in smile and his shoulders relax a little, but otherwise he ignored her, defiantly continuing to rub his cold hands together and holding them against the warmth of the fire.
Nieve wondered over to the dresser, pouring herself a cup of wine, she'd had one with dinner but it was so long since she'd drank anything but water being in those cells. The warm buzz from the wine was pleasant, and she thought another cup might help her sleep better anyway. She offered a cup to Jon.
He declined; "No thanks. I should be getting back to my chambers, it's been a long day."
I bet. Nieve thought, remembering he had to tell the Watch that he'd be releasing a prisoner today. She felt bad for putting him in a position that could compromise the trust of his men, but then she thought of the bath she just had and the great night's sleep in the bed she would be getting tonight, and her guilt dissipated pretty quickly.
"How did they take it?" She asked; she knew he'd understand what she meant.
Jon sighed. His eyes still fixed on the flames. "Not well."
Nieve sat down on the bed, twisting her legs to her side, one arm propping her weight and the other clutching the goblet. "What did they say?" She asked curiously.
Jon turned to face her. His expression stoney. "Let's just say the men won't be welcoming you no matter how many armies you bring for us. Least of all Thorne."
"Thorne?" Nieve frowned.
"Allister Thorne." Jon clarified, "First Ranger. He had a lot to say at your trial."
Nieve thought back, remembering the silver-haired crow who's tongue she'd threatened to cut out due to his endless excuses as to why they should execute her.
"Oh, not that prick! And he's First Ranger?!" She groaned a little too loudly. Ghost growled, not appreciating being woken up.
"I thought it best to keep my enemies close." Jon justified.
Nieve rolled her eyes. "Sounds like you want to keep your enemies appeased more like. Want to know what I do with my enemies?"
Jon turned to her, his face impatient again. "I've think I've got a pretty good guess."
Nieve shrugged, "I could do it for you if you like." She said innocently, eyeing Jon darkly as she takes another sip of wine. "Make it look like an accident-"
"-No!" Jon said, a little panicked.
She laughed at his nervous expression. "Relax, Snow. It was just a joke."
Jon didn't seem to ease despite her words, and Nieve grumbled a little, slightly wishing it hadn't been a joke.
"And Stannis?" She asked finally.
Jon looked even more anxious at these words. "He was at the announcement, but I've yet to have an individual discussion about it with him. I presume he'll be laying out strategies on how to use you in his war."
"I refuse to be a bargaining chip." Nieve growled again.
"He knows you're my prisoner-" Jon began, but shied away from his words at the glare Nieve gave him. "I mean, he know's you're on my side", he corrected, "But he'll try his best to take you, he had Mance Rayder burned because he refused to surrender. He'll try use you to convince Dorne to ally with him."
"The way you did?" Nieve snorted, her voice thick with irony.
Jon scowled, apparently not keen on the comparison.
"Don't worry, I'm here to help you. I won't be bowing to any self-proclaimed Kings, and if he wants to kill me or hold me hostage - let him try. " Nieve reassured him, draining the last of her cup.
Jon smirked, True; she's talked her way out of a death sentence and a prison cell. Stannis is a ruthless man but Jon would still put his money on Nieve.
Nieve placed the cup on the bedside table, and blew out the candle. She lay down and began tucking herself in the bed sheet. Jon took this as his indication to leave and walked towards the door. But Nieve stopped him.
"Wait." She said softly, "Do you mind blowing out the candles?" She gestured, spotting that she'd forgotten the large candle stick in the corner by the tub.
Jon nodded, and crossed the room to the light, snuffing them out one by one.
"Thanks." Nieve said. The room was dark for all but the fireplace and the pearly moon shining through the window.
"It's fairly late, so I'll have my steward come empty the water from your wash tomorrow morning, if you don't mind?" Jon added, heading back towards the door.
"Snow?" Nieve said softly, yawning now.
"Sand?" He turned to her, his voice almost a whisper.
"Would you take me up the Wall someday?"
Jon blinked, he hadn't expected that question. Up until then Nieve hadn't truly expressed curiosity or desire in being at the Wall. He couldn't blame her though, many people desired to see what it's like to see the world from the clouds, why would she be any different?
"Maybe, someday." He promised.
Nieve smiled sleepily, eyes struggling to stay open.
Jon smiled in return; briefly watching the sleeping Nieve and Ghost huddled up together, before closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.
Nieve woke to a knock at her door the next morning. She sat up, blinking groggily, her curls that had been so beautifully detangled last night were once again a matted mess, and her muscles were still sore and achey. She knew she'd had a restless night, bad dreams had, like most nights, plagued her sleep, but she hoped the softer bed would give her a better nights sleep. Instead the bed felt all wrong, almost too soft, disagreeing with her spine and permitting her mind to loosen into more disturbing and twisting dreams.
She'd recalled the dream vividly: There had been of a stag. It was running from something; sprinting through the forest, Nieve couldn't tell what chased it, but she knew it was a hunt of sorts. But the stag wouldn't let up; pounding his hooves, trying to head as far South as it could go. It was then Nieve realised where it was; a castle. One she'd never visited but she knew right away that it was the home of the Starks: Winterfell. The Stag broke through the bank of the trees and into a large clearing - the ground was thick with snow but it didn't break stride, pounding across the field desperate to make it to the woods South of the clearing. Just as it reached the edge of the trees, it's legs buckled, something had struck the creature. It collapsed quietly to the ground, no whimpers, no struggle to get back up. It just lay there to die, his blood poured out but instead of thick red, it was as blue as sapphires.
She had forced herself awake from that dream in the middle of the night - too distressing for her to comprehend. She had laid awake in bed after that, gently stroking the sleeping dire wolf beside her in attempts to calm herself down. And after a few minutes she closed her eyes and allowed her body to drift off once more.
Now, when she remembered the dream, it felt clearer, and obvious. She smiled, for once it appeared her green sight might hold her an advantage…
Bang, bang, Bang! the knocking grew louder. Nieve groaned, remembering Jon's words the previous night about his steward coming to empty her bath. She wiped her eyes and the corner of her mouth, paranoid she may have drooled a little. She didn't bother getting out of bed, instead yelling for the visitor to enter. Probably not the safest idea to keep her door unlocked but she had Ghost with her and she was too tired to care if there was some crow waiting behind it with a crossbow.
But when the door swung open, Nieve was taken aback at just how unthreatening the visitor was. It was a boy, must be nearing thirteen or so, with short brown messy hair and cheeks still chubby in youth. Those cheeks quickly turned red seeing Nieve still in bed and in nothing but a tunic. Poor lad had probably never seen a woman in her undergarments before.
"My lady I-I'm here to bring you your breakfast." The boy stammered, eyes fixed on the floor so as to give her her privacy. He wondered over to the dresser and placed down the wooden tray.
"Thank you." Nieve said.
She could see the bowl streaming from across the room and the prospect of a hot meal made her more wake. She jumped out of the bed to retrieve the bowl, taking it in her hands and swiftly sitting herself back onto the bed, digging the spoon into the porridge and shovelling the hot food down her throat. The boy began to protest that the food was still too hot, but Nieve didn't feel it burn, she welcomed it. Hot food and wine seemed to be the only thing that truly kept her warm in this place. She smiled at the tinge of honey, that she was almost certain the other men of the watch would not get and she knew Sam must have put in a word with the cooks. She made a mental note to thank him when she next saw him. The honey was a small gesture, but having gone so long without flavour to any of her meals the last few weeks, the sweetness was almost overwhelming.
The boy awkwardly shuffled over to the tub, collecting the buckets from the corner of the room and placing one under the tap, twisting it so the water drained out and filled the bucket. He twisted it shut again to move the brimming bucket and replacing it with a empty one, letting that one fill up too.
Nieve didn't talk until she finished her porridge, scraping the sides of the bowl with her spoon greedily, trying to scoop up every last oat. Ghost had woken at the smell of food too and had been eyeing her bowl as she gorged. She gave him a little scratch under the chin before placing the bowl on the bedsheet in front of him and his muzzle dived in immediately, licking up the last bit that Nieve couldn't reach. She knew he'd still be hungry after this but she presumed Jon would let him hunt today anyway, whereas Nieve would have to wait until lunch for her next meal, and judging by the growl of her stomach that seemed like it was gonna be a long way off.
Food no longer a distraction Nieve focused her attention on the boy draining the dirty water in the corner.
"What do they call you?" She said loudly. Nieve thought he'd only hear her if she shook him out of his day dream, as the boy seemed to be absorbed in his task, staring off into the water slowly filling the bucket.
His head snapped up, confused she'd be talking to him. "Ollie, milady." He said quietly.
"Hello Ollie," She said as politely as possible, hoping it would put the boy at ease. "I'm Nieve."
Ollie nodded but said nothing more, eyes turning back to the task at hand.
"When did you join the watch?" Nieve asked curious - wondering whether there was an age too young for the Watch to turn a recruit down.
"It'll be about six months by now, I reckon."
"And Jon made you his personal steward?" Nieve said sounding a little sceptical. "Forgive me, I just mean you haven't been here that long, he must have taken a shine towards you."
"He say's he wants me to learn the ropes, groom me, so that one day I might be Lord Commander myself."
Nieve feigned an impressed smile, but something told her there was more to Ollie than that. "Can I ask you something, Ollie? Something personal, about Jon?"
Ollie looked nervous but he didn't respond, eager to hear the question before he refused to answer it.
"Is Jon a good man?" Nieve asked bluntly.
The boy just blinked at her, unsure as to how to answer. Eventually, he responded, his eyes cast down at his feet, his voice so quiet Nieve had to strain her ears. "I don't know, milady."
Nieve narrowed her eyes slightly but didn't make another comment, she just lets the poor boy grab the buckets and leave hurriedly.
After breakfast Nieve wasn't sure whether she was meant to wait for Jon or Sam to take her to the Library, but she had a good enough memory to make her way there herself. Ghost was still trailing her too, so she presumed she wouldn't be breaching any agreement terms as along as she was supervised. She knew she was getting a good deal for her crimes but she couldn't help but feel chained still. She enjoyed Ghost's company and anything was better than going back to that cold, dark cell, but the freedom to not be able to go outside without permission; to have to debate whether it was okay to leave her chambers - she knew the arrangement would quickly get on her nerves. Martell's weren't bred to be followers; awaiting orders - especially from others who weren't their kind.
Nieve grabbed her belt, tightening it in place as the britches she wore were slightly loose. She tied the black fur shawl to the leather straps on her shoulders, and laced up the black boots, which surprisingly fit perfectly. She smirked - the men have small feet here … sounds about right.
She straightened up, looking towards the small grotty mirror in the corner of the room. She caught sight of herself in the black uniform. She felt strange; she'd posed as many things in her life of espionage and killing - but standing in her crow outfit, she could understand why their was a solidarity in uniform; why these men felt a responsibility to the Wall; why they would call themselves brothers.
She blinked, shaking her head away from the thoughts; she was staring into the mirror a little too long. She strode towards the door, but hovered over the handle when she realised Ghost wasn't following.
"C'mon then, you lazy beast." She said impatiently.
Ghost gave her a glare for that one, but jumped off the bed and landed by her heel, waiting for her to open the door. He rushed ahead once they exited the chambers, Ghost leading her to the library instantaneously and she reminded herself never to call him lazy or a beast again. Ghost paused once he'd reached the doors to the library, Nieve knocked and heard Sam call for her to enter.
She cautiously swung the door open, expecting to find Sam and the Maester at the table reading or writing. Instead she was greeted with the sight of a scruffy looking woman, sat at the table with Princess Shireen and finally Sam, who was cradling a baby in his arms.
"Nieve!" Shireen cried happily, rushing towards her and crashing in to her with a big hug. "I knew they'd let you out."
"Thanks, Princess. Your visits are what got me through it." Nieve smiled back, looking down at the innocent girl in her arms. "What are you doing here though?"
"I'm teaching Gilly how to read, we have lessons here everyday. She's improving remarkable." Shireen, walked over to the table, picking up a book and dashed back to Nieve excitedly. "See, we're already reading from one of my favourites."
Nieve looked at the binding and grinned, "A Dance with Dragons is one of my favourites too."
Shireen smiled and took Nieve's arm, pulling her towards the table.
"Morning, Sam." Nieve nodded to Sam, still sat with the child wrapped protectively in his arms. He looked hesitant, his expression weary, much like when he first met her chained to a cell wall.
Nieve frowned but turned her attention to the the woman she presumes is Gilly.
Gilly jumped up, bowing her head awkwardly. "My Lady, I heard about what you did. How you stood up to those crows like that. I wish I could do the same."
Nieve glanced back at Sam, eyes narrowed slightly, but replied Gilly politely, "I'd teach you how to defend yourself, but apparently, they'd have you thrown into a cell so…"
Sam looked away, face red with guilt. Gilly turned to look at Sam too, face pulled in confusion.
But Nieve tried to diffuse the tension nonetheless. "Besides, I'm no lady." Nieve smiled at Gilly, "Please, just call me Nieve."
Gilly smiled, and leaned over to take the baby from Sam's hands. Sam looked like he wanted to protest for a moment but held it in.
What's his problem? Nieve thought with a grumble.
Gilly cradled the child in her arms, "This is baby Sam." She said softly, gently swaying the child, keeping him fatigued and happy.
Nieve wasn't keen on babies, she'd been a bigger sister many times to the younger Sandsnakes but she had been young then too. But something about babies made her uncomfortable - she wasn't maternal, and never had been interested in getting married and having kids herself, her father had been understanding of her beliefs while most of society would frown at them. However, she wasn't sure it was just that which made her uncomfortable around babies - she didn't like that they were too innocent. Everyone had faults - had prejudice - but a child too young to understand the world was completely naive and blissfully ignorant, it reminded her that every life she had taken was once a baby; once an innocent.
Nieve tried her best to smile however, "He's beautiful." She said a little stiffly. "Where's the Maester? I believe it is him I must report to." Nieve added, trying to move away from the subject of babies. She asked the question openly but it was Sam who answered, to her disappointment.
"He's still asleep. The Maester needs more rest these days." He said, his voice still a little short.
Nieve didn't understand where this tension had come from, she and Sam had always gotten along before, usually their was a respect between them, but all she sensed from him now was mistrust.
Gilly seemed to sense it too, turning to Shireen and saying: "Maybe we should finish our lesson later Princess. Sam could do with a nap and we must let Lady- Sorry, I mean - Nieve, begins her duties."
Nieve liked Gilly even more then - she could read a room and knew how and when to subtly excuse herself from an awkward situation.
Shireen nodded and stood up, folding the books and parchments away. She said her goodbyes to Nieve, and Shireen and Gilly exited without another word.
Nieve rounded on Sam before the door was fully closed. "This morning, I told myself to thank you when I next saw you, for putting honey in my oats. Now I don't want to, and do you know why? Because you were behaving like an utter prick just then."
Sam sighed, "I know, I'm sorry. Gilly and Sam mean a lot to me, I have to protect them."
Nieve crossed her arms with a huff, "Well, you certainly tried your best, didn't you! You never mentioned a word about having a family!"
"I got a little defensive about you meeting them, I'm sorry. It's just when you walked in, I realised you'd be meeting the two people that mean the most to me in this world, and all that flashed through my head where the bloody bodies of the brothers you killed. I got scared. I'm sorry."
It was the most frank Nieve had ever heard Sam speak. She felt wounded, she'd hoped she'd justified her actions, if not to herself then at least to Sam and Jon, but she realised in that moment that they'd never truly stop seeing her for who she was: a liar and a killer. "I thought you trusted me, Sam. Or at least figured out that I'm not that cruel." Nieve tried to keep her voice steady.
"I do trust you. I know you're not cruel." Sam said desperately, "I've just spent to long counting threats; Stannis' men, the Wildlings, the Wight Walkers, even my own brothers. Gilly and Sam are not safe anywhere."
Nieve didn't know what came over her but she felt an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man, she sat down and gently placed a hand on one of his rested on the table. Sam smiled shyly at her gesture. She understood now she shouldn't take his mistrust or caution too personally. There's a moment of silence before Nieve quickly removed her hand, clearing her throat and scratching her head uncomfortably. She didn't do empathy often.
"Thank you for the honey in my oats this morning." Nieve mumbled with a smile.
Sam seemed fascinated with his feet all of a sudden. "It was no trouble."
Nieve tried her best to remove the awkwardness, "So you have a son then?"
Sam laughed, "I'm not his real father but the boy needs one."
"Samwell Tarly! Are you breaking your vows." Nieve mused, feigning shock.
"No!" Sam replied a little too quickly.
Nieve honestly wasn't surprised if the men didn't stick to their vows at the Wall. Taking the Black was out dated, a stupid tradition and a vain attempt to keep children away from being snatched by the Others. Little Sam wasn't the first babe at the Wall and he wouldn't be the last.
Seeing as the Maester would be sometime yet in rising, Nieve thought it best to get herself caught up with the outside world. And so Sam began to tell her everything, she'd missed since before her time in Braavos. About How the Wildlings attacked the war from the North and infiltrated from the South. How they were outnumbered one hundred to one. How they lost half the Watch that night, and that they won the battle thanks to Jon's leadership. Nieve sat at the edge of her seat as Sam spoke, it was like reading the fantasy book she'd read growing up. The talk of giants, and huge scythes in the Walls' defences…
"We'd won the battle, but we'd lost many brothers. Many good friends. We were in no state to endure another attack, Jon knew we were doomed, we all did. And whilst both sides licked their wounds, Jon ventured out to parley with Mance Rayder."
Nieve raised a brow in surprise, "You mean; he ventured out to kill Mance Rayder."
"Jon knew that without a leader the Freefolk would go back to squabbling amongst themselves. He also knew he'd never make it back. Fortunately, Stannis' Army arrived - wiping out Mance's army before the wildlings could pick up their blades."
Nieve nodded slowly, fully coming to understand the events, So now of course they were in Stannis' debt. She didn't like the idea one bit, she could sense that Sam and Jon didn't either, but she'd have to work with the situation.
Sam slumped back in his chair, he seemed exhausted telling Nieve the events of the battle, Nieve couldn't blame him, like he was reliving it all in every word he uttered.
"I'll go see if the Maester is finally awake." He said, distractedly, scraping back his chair and making his way to the staircase.
Once the coast was clear Nieve didn't need a moment. She snatched up a piece of parchment, hastily grabbing the ink and quill and scrawled out a brief message.
Snow maybe deep but the wall still weeps.
Our young wolf leads; but shrouded in the shadow of Others.
Arrangements were made; you'll find the detail in the sands.
But the drunkard must withstand the fire, or it won't be flames that consume us;
but ice.
Nieve heard footsteps. She powdered the parchment; blotting the ink, and blew hard - careful to dust the powder off the surface and under the table. She folded the parchment and stuffed it down her vest just as the Maester reaches the bottom of the stairs.
She turned to smile at him innocently, but remembered it no doubt would be wasted on the blind man. But Aemon wasn't smiling back the polite way he had done so the night before. But instead held a skeptical frown. She knew he'd caught her in the act of something shady, but he chose not to say anything about it just yet.
"So Sam tells me you are an enthused reader, Lady Nieve." He said slowly hobbling his way to the table. Nieve quickly jumped up from her seat to help the man. He accepted gratefully.
"Please Maester, I'm no lady. I'm not even a true daughter of Oberyn Martell."
Aemon smiled slightly, "I am very much aware of the heirs and graces of every House across the realm." he said with a sense of mockery to his tone, "I've met many men and woman who claim to be lords and ladies, yet rarely do they act like them."
Nieve chuckled, "Well then I must defy all forms of heirs and graces, Maester."
The maester scoffed, "On the contrary, you are rarity. I've heard of your achievements. You're a great warrior, strong in heart and great mind for politics.. does that not exceed the expectations of a Lady?"
"Sounds like you've only heard half the story." Nieve grumbled, curtly pulling back the maester's chair for him to sit. He seemed exhausted merely from the walk from the stairs to the table, but he continued the conversation despite his lack of breath.
"Well, tell me the rest." He panted, collapsing into the chair, "As you can see my glory days have long since passed, but that only fuels my curiosity in hearing others that are still living theirs…"
Nieve's brow furrowed. She spoke to the floor, "I fear you wouldn't be so understanding if I told you the rest."
She could feel Aemon's pale glazed eyes staring at her. He was an easy man to read, a good man. Too good. Too trusting, he'd made mistakes in youth and he'd grown wiser from them but he'd never truly learn, he was still a fool. A wise fool who never learnt to stop trusting, to stop searching for the best in people. But he had this ability to make people feel like they don't want to disappoint him - an ability beyond the sympathy of his old age and blindness. No, Nieve found herself strangely caring about what the maester thought of her. She knew it would be hard to keep the secret from him.
"Besides…" Nieve desperately tried to change the subject, taking a seat on the bench beside him, "…the story of a Targaryen Prince's lifetime service at the Wall sounds far more fascinating."
Aemon nodded his head slowly. She knew he could tell she was avaiding.
"That is a long story indeed maybe another time my dear." He sighed, "But I understand Samwell has been informing you of our predicament here and now, correct?"
Nieve leans forward, eager to be off the topic of personal background, "I know everything, except what the plan is next?"
Aemon laughed but there was a sadness in his expression. "Jon knows what he must do, he just needs the support to do it."
"What must he do?" Nieve frowned.
"Make peace. With the Wildlings, Stannis, the Boltons everyone. There's no war but the War for the Dawn."
Nieve nodded, "I wish it was as simple as it sounds."
Aemon coughs, the sound deep and painful. Nieve jumped up from her seat to collect the jug of water at the end of the table, filling a cup before handing it to the sick man.
He accepts with thanks, drinking deeply, until he can finally stammer out his sentence; "Their has never been a time in Westeros where their has been complete peace. and as much as we need there too be now, there will never be. But allegiances like yours with the Martells could help make a difference."
Nieve tries to hum reassuringly at this statement but she could tell Aemon sensed the doubt in her tone.
He reached a hand out to gently hold hers, "I believe you are here to help my dear, but I sense we're not getting the whole truth…"
It was Nieve's turn to choke now, "I - I, um -"
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Jon strode in, announcing frustratedly, 'King Stannis wishes to speak to Lady Nieve." Two guards stood at the door besides he, armoured in the Baratheon sigil.
Nieve hurriedly sprung up from the bench and exited with a glance at Jon, never in her life did she think she'd be relived and grateful to see him.
They walked silently towards Stannis' chambers. The guards boots clunking behind them. Jon seemed tense beside her, she presumed it wasn't so much the Baratheon guards, but because of the encounter they were about to face with Stannis. It made Nieve wonder maybe she should be nervous too. But she wasn't. She had been expecting this meeting with Stannis for a long time - and thanks to her dream last night, knew exactly how to play it. She was doing something she'd never done before - trusting in her power. She hoped this might be the start in learning to control her greensight. That dream could be a premonition, or it could just have been a dream; and she was interpreting it to what she wanted it to mean. But it was all she had to go on. What did make her nervous was the thought of the Red Woman - she'd most likely be there, and what if she undermines my plans, is it worth making an enemy out of her? She could be useful… Or she could try to manipulate me, trap me, like she'd tried to with Jon…
They reached the door to Stannis' quarters. Nieve took a deep breath as Jon rapped his knuckles on the door.
"Enter."
Stannis sat behind his desk, elbows strewn casually across his arm rests. A man stood besides him holding parchments - Nieve presumed him to be the Onion Knight, she'd seen him at her trial but never placed a name to the face. Shireen had good things to say about him, but any man compared to Stannis Baratheon would seem good. Nieve scanned around the room for the Lady Melisandre, but she wasn't there.
Jon approached the desk, addressing Stannis. "Your Grace, this is Lady Nieve of House Martell."
Nieve stepped towards Stannis but didn't say a word - she let him eye her, she was doing the same, making her readings and observations of the man as quickly as she could. He was stern, logical, unforgiving, and unaffectionate - a man strict to sticking with rules but ruthless in doing whatever to achieve his ambitions. It didn't surprise Nieve that he couldn't be trusted, she'd heard the stories about his involvement in Renly Baratheon's death, and the man she saw now seemed capable of murdering his own brother with blood magic. But that didn't matter, Stannis wouldn't be a problem much longer…
Stannis swiftly turned back to Jon without a comment in welcoming Nieve, "Do you let all your prisoners walk about the castle, unchained?"
Jon raised his chin slightly in defiance, "Lady Nieve is under constant guard - but her service is too valuable to keep locked away."
"Very well she is you're prisoner - you may do what you want with her." Stannis mumbles offhandedly, like she were cattle being sold to a farmer.
"Well, then can I ask why she's been summoned to you?" Jon's voice was short, disgusted by Stannis' lack of respect too. Nieve held in her smile, surprised to hear Jon be so defiant.
But Sir Davvos didn't appreciate his tone. "You'll watch you're mouth, this is Stannis, the One True King."
"Then let it come from my mouth…" Nieve said in a polite but charming tone, she knew flirting wouldn't get her far with Stannis but it would at least demand his attention. "Why have you requested to see me?"
Stannis nodded slowly - his eyes blazing on Nieve, realising this was a woman he wouldn't be able to walk over. "You made a deal with the Lord Commander here that House Martell will fight to protect the wall. I want to know how it is you'll manage to convince your House to agree to this? Considering Dorne refuses to partake in any wars."
Nieve tried to hide her smirk, she'd prepared what to say for this. She took a confident step forwards. "If I can be frank, your Grace, I was expecting this meeting, you are a large factor in how I may convince my people to fight. I know your campaign is a great one - with many victories
destined to come under a such strong leader -"
"-Flattery does not impress me." Stannis interrupted, his voice dull and impatiently.
"It is not flattery, your Grace, it is fact." Nieve responded cooly, "But this isn't why you summoned me to meet with you. You requested me here to have me agree for House Martell's help you to take the South. The Martells may not be happy with the Baratheons on the throne, but believe me they are far less happy with the Lannisters. And that is precisely why they will help you - if you promise too leave to Dornish Lands untouched - leave our bi-laws and traditions untouched. Then the Martells will fight for your cause when the time comes, we want nothing more than to see House Lannister crumble to dust."
"What about our cause then?!" Jon turned to Nieve, grabbing her arm furiously.
Nieve ignored him, keeping her composure. "That's where my condition comes in, your Grace: You must claim to back the Lord Commander's cause too, the fight in the War for the Dawn is compulsory in our agreement for peace. I'll will inform my House that you will not take Dornish lands as long as they help protect the wall."
Stannis looked at her in consideration. There's a tense silence as he and Nieve stared each other down, waiting for his response. Nieve could feel the anger radiating off Jon behind her, I'll deal with him afterwards, she thought.
Stannis leaned forward in his chair, elbows coming to rest on the table. "You have a good mind for politics, Lady Sand." He said, but his tone was rather unimpressed. "I could agree to your terms or I could save myself the hassle and just take you hostage, then use you to bargain Dorne to comply."
Nieve took another step closer, she'd almost reached the desk, "But then I'd tell you exactly what I told commander Snow here, and that is you'd have another war on your hands. One that could have been avoided if you'd listened to the woman helping you achieve peace and gain allies. I'm offering you more men, It will only disadvantage you to take me hostage."
Jon looked dumbfounded. He knew Nieve was merely doing what she'd done with him - talking herself out of a death sentence, but she'd struck the same deal with Stannis as she had with him. It bugged him - she thinks us all fools; she'd never side with Stannis, would she?
Stannis also didn't seem convinced, "I heard a rumour that since Prince Oberyn died you have no allies in Dorne - that Prince Doran never quite welcomed you into the family."
Nieve's expression didn't waver, "And is that rumour enough to go on?" She placed her palms on the desk, leaning over Stannis, eyes burning into his. "Welcomed or not I'm still considered Prince Doran's Niece and he my Uncle. I told you already they hate the Lannister more than the Baratheons, but they'd defend me in heartbeat over you. And with my support, I can make you allies with Dorne. Just as long as you agree to my conditions."
Stannis glared at her, scanning for any crack in her confidence, but she was as solid as Ironwood. He glanced to Jon, shifting in sit. "I see why she's out of those chains now Lord Commander." His eyes wondered to Sir Davvos to his right, who was still trying to get a read on Nieve too. But she knew Stannis had made up his mind.
"Alright," Stannis said defeatedly, "I expect a letter drawn up above midday."
"Snow had me send a letter last night - the conditions have changed now however." Nieve informed him, straightening up from the desk.
Stannis nodded, Ill have the letter intercepted before it reaches Dorne. Sir Davvos here will see to it that this revised letter will comply with our agreement before it is sent."
"As you wish, your Grace." Said Davvos, bowing his head.
"Well, now that's taken care of... Gentlemen." Nieve bowed her head to each of them in mockery. But before they could say another word, she strolled out the room, playfully patting the shoulder of the guard stood outside the door as she went.
"I think that went rather well." She called over her shoulder as she strutted down the corridor away from Stannis' quarters.
Jon growled, hurrying after Nieve, muttering under his breath. He finally caught up with her in the corridor, and grabbed her ruffly, pinning her against the side wall:
"What are you playing at?"
"What do you mean?" Her tone blasé, "You read the letter last night… you saw I'd need more motive than a 'family request' for the Martells to join your cause, and I knew the Baratheons would apply a little bit of pressure to get them to agree."
"So all that nonsense about you charming your family to get them to agree…"
"…You heard Stannis, Dorne have sat idle for many years in concerns with war. Even when Martells were threaten, raped, and killed - they still did not wager a war. It's going to take more than an adopted girl who's only true bond with the Martell House was with her deceased father, to convince them to help."
Jon's expression softened a little. She, like him with the Starks, maybe close to her family but they'd never start a war over her. Dorne may accept bastards but I guess when it comes to their family, blood is still more important than bond.
Nieve rolled her eyes, "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?", Jon frowned.
"Like that!" She mimicked his stupid mopey face, "With pity in your eyes, I don't want you feeling sorry for me."
Jon had to resist laughing at her impression of him, "I'm not feeling sorry for you, I'm furious at you; I don't like you making double deals with Stannis, especially ones you don't discuss with me first." He huffed.
"Don't worry, I'm not." Nieve sighed, "He isn't going to win this war anyway."
Jon frowned, "What do you mean?"
"He'll never take Winterfell." Nieve said hesitantly, fiddling with the leather straps on her cuffs.
Jon buried his forehead into his palm, eyes closed, quickly losing his impatience. "How would you know that?"
"I've seen it." Nieve exhaled, her voice timid, almost ashamed.
Jon looked at her now, noticing the nervous tone in her voice. "What does that mean?"
Nieve stared back at him, her lip trembled like she's trying to say something. Abruptly, she tuggged Jon's arm, dragging him into the nearest empty and unlocked room she could find. Jon's expression confused, she turned to face him, her eyes still hesitant. She sucked in a large breath. She'd never uttered these words to anyone before. She couldn't believed she'd have to say them to Jon, but it was the quickest way to earn his trust and steer him away from questioning her real plans. She braced herself and whispered the words:
"I have the sight."
eek the sight has been revealed, can she keep the rest of her secrets under wraps?
Thanks, I hope you like and I'll see you for Chapter 9 (I don't have a working title just yet but it'll be out as soon as I can.)