3,011A/N: EDIT: Not a lot of feedbacck. Site must be glitching out again...why do I even bother anymore? T_T
Can anyone see this chapter? Its a long one, I know, but it has to be; because the site has been glitching out HARD. All those 503 errors the last few days threw me off schedule. Any feedback would go a long way to lifting my spirits...
Between all this crap with the site and the drama with my job, I just want to curl up in a corner and cry. Still, here I am. Looking forward to your feedback~! Appreciate you all!
Many thanks to newboy (a reviewer) for offering a great many ideas regarding the Iron Islands!
As always, I wanted this chapter to feel like a proper Game of Thrones episode!
Hopefully I succeeded~!
Alright, I've kept you waiting long enough, methinks. Enough of this old man's rambling; you're here for a story. Hope you're prepared for the chaos to come. Once more, I own no references, quotes, memes or themes. Not a wit or a one. Nope. They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I. Lastly, a reminder to one and all. Naruto's Westerosi name remains Nathaniel. Joanna -and now Rhaella!- prefer to call him Naruto, yet they're the only ones who truly do.
Timeline is obviously a little skewed here, but hey, that makes things...fun.
References and verbatim from Game of Thrones below. Away we go~!
Star wars references -from the old days- if you squint.
Now, then. I've kept you long enough. Here it comes~!
Minor tweak to the time of day, here, nothing major...
Be WARNED, this chapter packs a punch.
Its quite intense, for obvious reasons.
A girl really steals the show here~!
"...so be it. I have made my decision."
"Have you, now? And what choice would that be?"
"Do not feign ignorance. You know the answer already."
~?
Make Your Move
A girl did not understand Nathaniel Lannister.
Make no mistake, Nymeria wanted to, more than anything.
But she could not, would not, or rather, she absolutely should not.
Perhaps that was for the best; through understanding came realization, through realization knowledge, and knowledge-as she had learned-was often followed pain. Pain brought misery, and misery, death. Yes, mayhaps not knowing might be a good thing after all. Ignorance was bliss as they say; better for one to go without and not know one's doom than to face the coming storm and know your end was coming.
She tried to tell herself that, seeking solace in silence.
It helped sometimes, in her darker moments.
Oftentimes it did not.
Lord Tywin's son wasn't just a puzzle, he was an enigma wrapped in confusion, girded by swords, shining like the sun. Approaching him was akin to a moth flying too close to a flame; she knew better, yet the light dazzled her all the same, inexorably drawing closer despite the danger. Inevitably, she would lose herself, go blind, and burn.
Perhaps she already was burning and simply failed to realize it.
And she had no one to blame...
...but herself.
She was his sword, his shadow, his dagger in the dark. When someone needed killing? She killed them. When tongues must be silenced? She cut them out. When his enemies conspired against him? She removed them. It had been her way for a decade now. Time and again she had removed obstacles in his path, all without him knowing. For ignorance was bliss, and her Master was the sun. He need not know of the shadows that sought to dim his holy radiance.
A spy in the North, writing to the king? Dead by her hand.
A greedy peasant who wished to steal the dragons and sell them for profit? Slain without a second thought.
Vengeful enemies from both Braavos and the House of Black and White? Quietly killed until they stopped coming altogether.
She had slain dozens in Nathaniel's name, fought silent wars one by one, plucking the pesky pebbles from His path, clearing away the thorns that would otherwise impede him, leaving her lord none the wiser.
Sometimes she hunted down the ones responsible for those "thorns" and gave them a rather thorny death themselves, further dissuading others who might wish Lord Nathaniel harm. The Mad King had been responsible for most of his troubles and she could not kill him -well, she could, but not without plunging Westeros into chaos!- yet she could kill others, and had done so gladly.
Her daggers had taken more lives than she had faces. And she had a great many faces now indeed. So many.
Her hands were dyed red with blood. They would never be clean. She did not wish them to be.
Her very soul was sullied. And that was fine.
Nymeria knew well the sight of treachery and how to snuff it out...but what she did not know, was how to defend against her own thoughts. They remained her own; yet even now she found herself doubting them, unable to trust in herself. She was his sword. He was the fist that held her, commanded her. Directed her ever onward and forward.
To even hope for anything more was foolish.
And she had been content.
Mostly.
Watching other women pine over him, seeing love blossom between him and Lyanna Stark, she'd felt the prickle of jealousy and turned her face from it. Then done so again when he inadvertently caught the attention of other women through his kind words and grand heroics. Now the wolf and the viper and another lion pined for him, as did the dragon.
All the while, she silently stewed.
The Hound knew her feelings on the matter, or suspected, and she'd sworn to cut out his tongue should he ever speak of it to anyone. He had not. Good. She rather liked Clegane. He understood her. It would've been a shame to kill him.
But he wasn't the one to speak it. The women had, and in saying so, introduced the foul niggling worm of doubt into her mind.
It was better when she was his weapon; she craved the cold certainty of steel, knowing she could never be anything more.
Her past did not matter. She did not matter. Now she was afraid.
Fear was the enemy.
"Fear leads to Anger, child. Anger leads to Hate. Hate leads to suffering.
A strange little old man with green skin told her such once, back in Braavos, when she had just begun her career as No One. She hadn't understood his wisdom at the time, but his words had stuck with her long after their meeting in the market until one day she did understand them.
Nymeria dearly wished she hadn't.
She never thought she would long for the old days; when she was but a tool in the House of Black and White, cold and unthinking. When she did not falter, when she did not question.
Because after all these years; she'd learned what suffering led to.
Quite simply put, suffering lead to death.
Of the body, of the self, of the soul.
Such was the choice before her. She could choose to live, or she could choose to die. One was infinitely more painful than the other. One led to escape. The other an end to service. There could be no third path, none that she could see, at any rate.
She had to make her choice tonight. Or it would be made for her.
A girl-no! Not just a girl! My name is Nymeria!-did not wish to fear Nathaniel, nor hate him, and she certainly couldn't bring herself to try and kill him again; she may be brave, but not that brave; frankly, a girl didn't think anything could end him nowadays. He'd grown far too powerful. Perhaps he'd always been such, and simply pretended for the sake of others. That sounded like something he would do.
No, she only wished to serve him and repay his faith with loyalty; to serve faithfully and find silent solace in service.
But now even that had been being taken from her!
Everything was slipping away!
It wasn't fair! Had she been noble born instead of a wretched Blackfyre, she would be a Targaryen. Fire and Blood. Royalty. A proper princess with riches, power, ladies in waiting, all the trappings she lacked in this life. She could have demanded her "father" whomever it was, make a proper match with Nathaniel, and probably would've gotten her way, in all honesty. They could've settled down together and raised beautiful children with bright eyes and pale hair.
But she was not that princess. She was just a girl. She was No One. Nobody.
A lion could lay with a wolf or a viper, a true dragon, or even another lion, but not No One, no matter how much a girl might secretly wish otherwise. She could not give him anything. From the moment she'd been born, her only lot in life was death. She was only capable of killing, with perhaps the odd bout of kindness.
And then those girls ruined everything by saying the one thing they shouldn't.
She had panicked, run, fled, sought to avoid him for a time, hoping the pain would go away.
Yet, hiding him served no one; and it only worsened the wound in her heart. She understood that now. She just needed to make him understand.
So she had waited until night fell, then slipped inside his quarters. From there, it had been a simple matter to rouse him to action, then lead him outside. Out his room they went, into the hall, past the battlements, down into the depths of Casterly Rock castle, into then through the Stone Garden, were the dragons dwelt. They did not stir when she led him outside, nor did they emerge when she ushered him out onto the beachhead near the cliffs, where none could see them.
Still, that was not enough.
For the better part of an hour they walked, until the castle was merely a sizable speck in the distance. The tide was coming in, water lapping at their feet, but she paid it little heed.
Nathaniel hadn't questioned her. Not once.
She didn't deserve his trust.
Even the moon had hidden her face tonight, such was her shame. She lurked behind a heavy bank of clouds, leaving barely enough light to see by.
Nymeria found a certain irony in that. Oh yes, the night was dark and full of terrors.
Tonight, those terrors were her own, large and looming.
...this is far enough, I think."
"I" she had said just now. Not "a girl".
It was important to make the distinction between her wants and needs, however base they might be.
Pivoting upon one her, she turned to face Him and bowed, low and deep at the waist until she was staring down at the damp sand. "Thank you."
She couldn't see Nathaniel's face at this angle, but she could practically hear his brow furrow in confusion. "For what?"
Nymeria dare not raise her gaze for fear of what he might find there. "For taking me into your service."
He laughed a little. "You didn't have to bring me all the way out here for that-
"Let me finish!" Her head snapped up and she snarled at him, the first time she had ever done so; the startled look in his eyes made her feel wretched. "You are my world. My King. My Emperor. My God, for all that you disdain such." A brief beat of panic seized her, causing her to take a quick breath and barrel onward before her nerve faltered or worse, gave him a chance to speak. "You are the one who stayed your hand, who granted me a second chance I did not deserve, and ten years of happiness. For that, you have my eternal gratitude."
His face smoothed out, blanking at her words. "This is starting to sound like a goodbye...
She supposed it was, in a sense. One way, or another, something ended tonight.
"Are you leaving?"
The question hurt; she'd thought herself prepared for it, and still, it felt like she'd been stabbed.
Shoving the hurt down into her heart, she smiled sadly. "Do you want me to, my lord?"
He scowled, utterly appalled. "Of course not!"
That...that was good, wasn't it?
Anger meant he liked her. Valued her. Wanted her by his side.
Yet when he took a step forward, she found herself stepping back like some frightened child.
Because, at the end of the day, she was afraid. Of what could be, what might be.
Nathaniel saw it, too. Damn him. He'd always been able to read her like a book.
He held out a hand to her. "What do you want from me here, Nymeria?"
Someone was laughing. Had they been followed? Who dared?!
Oh.
It was her, wasn't it?
She was the one laughing.
This was bad. She'd overestimated her self control...!
"Want?" she made an ugly noise torn somewhere between a strangled sob and a savage snarl. "You know what it is a girl wants, what I want. But you dare not speak it!"
She wanted his hands on her, inside her, cupping her breasts, caressing her nipples, her hips on his as she slammed herself down onto him again and again.
She wanted to ride him into the sand, hollering his name for all to hear as the very stars burned out and the dragons danced around them.
She wanted to carry his child, hold the babe to her breast and rejoice in being a mother, as none had ever been to her.
But it -and they!- could never be.
It was abhorrent to want what she wanted, to crave more of her lord, when he had already given her so much. She may as well ask the sun to rise in the West and set in the East, demand the seas go dry and order every mountain to blow away in the wind like leaves.
He had other loves and her place could never be among them.
She was nothing. No one. Nobody.
She shouldn't even exist.
Worse, she was damaged. Broken. Probably insane too. And the worst part was that she knew it. She didn't even think she could bear him children.
And what if she could? What would become of any offspring of theirs?
What happened when Nathaniel became King?
There it was! The terrifying reality that was likely to to come, one that not even Tywin Lannister himself dared broach with his son directly. Ah, but a girl was clever. She might not know nobility, or how to curtsy, or drink tea properly, but she could read a room. Likewise could read between the lines, see likely outcomes, and the future that was most likely to arrive.
First and foremost, Aerys would die.
It was no longer a matter of it, but when. Be it by fate, war, or through his own madness, he wouldn't live to see the next decade.
Rhaegar would not be allowed to inherit, he couldn't; if only because it would be more of the same and Lord Tywin would not tolerate the mad king's son on the throne.
So he too, would die.
Maybe it would be poison. Maybe he would fall in battle. Maybe she would be sent to kill him. Regardless, his death was certain.
The younger son...what was his name? Viserys? Children died all the time in the Red Keep, didn't they? It would be easy.
The Queen would likely be allowed to live. She was quite fond of Nathaniel, and he, her.
All future Targaryens would pass through her after all. Or rather, her legs.
It would be so effortless to bind the Lannisters to her, and her to them.
From there, Nymeria's notion of the future grew muddied. She didn't know what would happen once the male Targaryens were wiped away, not for certain. But she had an inkling...
.
..
...no. She would not speak it. She would not give voice to what may or may not be. Misery, misery, misery. That was what she would choose tonight, if only because misery was safe; she understood sadness and sorrow, and while they would not make her happy, they were better than an uncertain future. Love might not be a weakness, but hope most assuredly was.
Hope was the deadliest dagger of all.
And her Lord was still silent!
So be it.
"I ask that you treat me only as a girl." she forced herself to meet his gaze, bringing her voice back to a low monotone. "A weapon. A tool. A girl cannot be anything more." it hurt to say that, hurt to lie, but anything was better than the pain she feared. "A girl is no one. A girl is nothing. And if you cannot agree to that...
Nathaniel held his tongue. All the while, he said not a word; he just...stared at her.
She felt so wretchedly small beneath his glowing gaze, as though she barely came up to his waist.
Why wouldn't he speak? Was she so unworthy of his words? Were her words truly so disappointing to him?
Aggravated, she drew the dagger at her hip and knelt. From there, she offered it up to him with both hands, head bowed, uncaring as the waves lapped at her legs.
...if you cannot accept this, then a girl asks that you kill her here and now!"
Neither of them made a sound; the world was silent, save for the waves lapping incessantly upon the shore.
Nymeria didn't dare move. Didn't dare raise her head. Scarcely dared to breathe, such was her fear. Did his silence imply understanding? Could they go back? Make things as they were before? No feelings, no emotions, no complicated matters; when she simply did as she was told and never dared to hope for more?
Or was she to die here?
Two paths stretched before and she found herself not liking either. But what choice did she have? Nathaniel could never love her. He would be a fool to do so. And he was no fool.
She heard him stride forward suddenly, boots tromping near silently in the wet sand. Felt him pluck the long dagger from her grasp; saw the low light catch the silvery steel and make it shine in the low light. He considered her for a long moment, gauging her, testing her, ready to call her bluff if indeed there was one.
When it became clear there wasn't one didn't move, he did; he knelt and set the steel to her throat.
Beheading, then. He was strong enough to deliver such a death; it would be a clean one at least.
Nymeria closed her eyes, exhaled a soft goodbye, and waited for oblivion. Let it be quick.
.
..
...why wasn't it quick?
Any moment now she expected to feel the cold sting of steel, followed by sweet oblivion. She longed for it. Craved it. Release. No more pain, no more fear, no more uncertainty. She needed it.
Didn't she?
Then why did she feel so relieved that it hadn't come yet?
The flat of the knife tapped the side of her neck. Once, twice, thrice now, tracing her jugular.
At length, Nathaniel finally spoke. "I hate people that lie to themselves. You, of all people, should know that."
Despite her best efforts to reign herself in, a tiny tremble betrayed her body. "I'm not lying...I wish to die. Please, release me."
"Are you sure about that?" He spun the knife around, braved its hilt with both hands, and pressed the blade to his own throat, causing her eyes to bulge. "How about now?"
She gasped. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" he stared back at her with a small smile. "I don't want to live in a world without you and since you're clearly keen on dying, you won't mind if I go ahead of you first-
Panic!
Raw animal instinct seized Nymeria's body from head to toe and she acted without thinking; all but lunging forward with a pained cry to bat the blade from Nathaniel's hands. He couldn't die! He absolutely must not die! She practically tackled him to the sand in her haste to save him from himself, determined to wrestle the weapon from his grasp.
Imagine her surprise then when he let her do just that.
She successfully struck the knife out his hands in a single slap; it flew through the air and plonked down into the water, where it was swallowed by the tides. She didn't even have a chance to retrieve it; even as she tried to rise, an arm clamped down around her waist, holding her fast. Her eyes bulged, but it was too late. A quick tumble in the surf and she found herself pinned beneath him, trapped.
Nymeria went still, keenly aware of not just how close he was, but that she'd been deceived.
"Well, would you look at that." golden eyes gleamed down at her. "You have something to live for after all."
She growled up at him and tried to muster some semblance of anger; all that emerged was a sob. "Why couldn't you just kill me?! Everything would be better if you just let me go!"
"Because." he helped her up and thumbed a bit of sand from her cheek, "You'd regret it."
Could she regret something if she was dead? She didn't know; it frightened her.
She'd always been afraid, hadn't she?
"You need to stop doing that." He flicked her forehead, drawing a wince from her. "Perseverating about things that may or may not happen won't help you, ya know."
She tucked her chin into her chest and refused to look at him. "...what do you want from me, my lord?"
"That depends entirely on you." he sat down before her. "What do you want?"
Nymeria already knew the answer before he finished speaking.
Here at last, she looked at him. "...I think I want to live."
He placed a hand to his ear. "Didn't quite catch that."
Damn him for making her saying it. "I want to live."
A smile split his face. "You'll have to be louder."
She glared at him furiously. "I want to live!"
He leaned back. "I can't hear you~!
She hollered. "I WANT TO LIVE!"
"Good, good!" Nathaniel beamed like the boy he no longer was, unable to hide the little flutter of pride he must've felt just then as shouted at him; rather than rebuke her, he took ahold of her hands and stood, pulling her up to her feet alongside him. "Don't you feel so much better, now?"
...she did, remarkably. It didn't solve everything, but she felt...lighter. As though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
And yet one thing was left unresolved.
Nymeria eyed Nathaniel like the half dragon she truly was at heart, ready to bite and not at all liking the trick he'd played upon her, yet for all that, he made no untoward moves against her. Part of her wished he would; if only so she could finally have an answer. He was so incredibly close. Her hands had yet to leave his and they were so very warm...
Her face flushed.
This would be foolish. She couldn't bear him any children. She had nothing to offer him, no dowry, no riches, no rewards, only herself. She knew nothing of the softer things in life. If, by chance, they did have children in the distant future, she could only teach them what she knew; how to defend themselves, fight, and kill.
Was that enough?
Could it be?
Maybe.
His fingers threaded through hers. "Tell me what's wrong."
She gripped his hands tighter. Nothing was wrong.
Everything was wrong!
She didn't know what to do! Lyanna made romance look so easy, downright effortless even, yet here she was, frozen, wholly at a disadvantage, out of her depth. For her, stabbing was usually her modus operandi, her go-to method of extricating herself form any unpleasant predicaments in which she found herself.
Somehow, she didn't think stabbing Nathaniel would get her out of this. Well, maybe it would, but she didn't want to hurt him. She wanted...
Her feet carried her closer to him. Remarkably, he didn't retreat but edged closer as well.
She shook her head, at a loss. "You can't be with me. I'm no one. Nothing."
He scoffed, unafraid. "You're someone to me.
A bitter laugh leaped from her lips. "That sounds horrible. Did you make that up yourself?"
"Not at all," he hummed a little, the sound warming her bones. "You've been with me the longest, remember?"
...she had, hadn't she? The realization rattled her. As far as she knew, he communicated with the Queen through letters, but never face to face. He'd only met Elia briefly, and she'd departed soon thereafter. He and Cersei hadn't been on good terms when he'd first left Casterly Rock. Lyanna had come afterward, but she, she had sworn herself to his service him almost from the first. when they'd both been little more than children.
Ten years of loyal service. Ten years of doubt. Ten years of longing...
"I really couldn't have done any of this without you, ya know."
Acknowledgement. Recognition. Vindication.
Nymeria squirmed happily beneath his praise; unable to find the right words to say. She tried, her lips parted. Closed. Parted again, but no sound emerged. Salvation. How sweet it was.
Nathaniel squeezed her hands instead, spurring her on. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want."
As if he didn't already know!
What she wanted...
...what she desired...
...what she craved more than anything...
She scooted closer and looked at him, nose brushing his as her eyes flitted up to his lips. "I want...to do something foolish."
Judging by his expression, he had a good idea of what that foolishness was. "Then what's stopping you?"
He made a fair point. What was stopping her?
Herself. Common decency. Nothing at all.
Hadn't she given enough?
Sacrificed enough?
Been enough?
"It's alright." he laid a hand on her cheek, dimpling in a small smile. "To be honest, I'm out of my depth here, too."
A pitiful flicker of hope fluttered in her heart like a candle in the same. "Then you feel the same?"
"I'm not sure." At least he was honest with her. "But I'm willing to see where this goes."
She squirmed anew under his gaze. "I may not be able to give you children...
"That's fine." he held up their interlocked hands and kissed them.
"And if we have any?"
He paused, realizing she was quite serious. "Then we'll raise them proper. Properly." he added at her stunned look. "We'll make 'em strong, too, just as strong as any other kids I might have. How does that sound?"
Raise them? Just like that? They wouldn't be treated as bastards, nor set aside? Her greatest concern, a hurdle most fearsome for the future, and it wasn't even one at all?! Talk about making mountains out of molehills. Had she truly been afraid for nothing?
Perhaps sensing her concern, he pressed his tanned forehead to hers. "I'll be there for you. Whatever comes our way."
What was she to say to that?! What could she say!? The assassin struggled against herself a moment more...
...and fell.
"I don't deserve this...
He chuckled. "Of course you do. Everyone deserves happiness.
With that, the last tenuous thread of Nymeria's self control snapped.
To the hells with it! Words had failed her, so she let her lips do the talking.
She stood on the tips of her toes and leaned the rest of the way in to kiss Nathaniel.
Softly at first, testing the waters, probing. Then fiercely when it became clear he had no intention of running away. She all but bit his lip in her haste to get at him, no longer caring if she made a fool of herself for it. So be it. She no longer cared what they called her. Tilting her head for a better angle, she drank him in deep and felt her blood warm as her body tingled with excitement. His arms briefly settled on either side of her hips to hold himself fast, but she ruined that by kissing him again and again and again, scarcely pausing to breathe.
Her heart was beating so blasted fast; her every thought, cared and regret stripped away in this moment.
Was this what she'd been missing out on? All this time?! T'was not fair...
Her lord didn't run away; when her lips sought his for a third time, he chased them with his own, preventing her from pulling away, not that she would have. One arm dripped lower, curling possessively around her waist to hold her close, heedless of her damp clothes from the surf. Her hands reached up to tangle in his damp hair, a smile gracing her lips as he reached down with one hand to cup her cheek. The other found her flank and lifted her left leg to stroke her inner thigh through her breeches. That tore her tenuous control to pieces.
Too many clothes. Too damp. Too cold.
In conclusion!
Off.
It was there that things truly grew heated between them. Her hands fisted in his tunic and found the buttons there, opening it quickly as he fiddled with the laces holding her own shirt garments in place. She laughed when he failed to untie them properly and instead leaned close to nuzzle his neck, lavishing a series of long, lasting kisses upon his throat until he finally succeeded.
From there, Clothes flew in every direction, scattered about the sands.
It was frenzy. It was madness. It was glorious.
Let chaos take the world.
She kicked off a shoe.
He lost a glove.
From there, they made a crude blanket of their clothes and capes and laid atop them; in hindsight, Nymeria wasn't sure who got whose shirt off first, only that at some point she could feel the salt air tickling the skin of her bare breasts, his fingers running down her exposed back as he lifted her into his lap, the better to usher her on to new heights of carnal glory.
Two could play that game. She dug her nails into his shoulders and he retaliated in kind; one hand pinched her rear to distract her even as the other delved between her thighs, gently parting her legs. From there, he began kissing her stomach, then lower, lower still. By the time she realized what he intended it was too late and he had her gasping in pleasant surprise.
Ohhh...that felt very nice...wait, that was a Braavosi technique! Where had he learned to do that?!
Vengeance would soon be hers; she had his trousers off almost immediately thereafter and there was no escape; she planted herself atop him and ground down, reveling in the pleasure of it all, the grunt drawn from him before she dove down and kissed him again. No words were said on their part, nor needed. They were, the both of them, certain what they wanted, and none could've stopped them.
Nymeria would've taken the hand of any who dared try and their head besides.
This...felt good. No, better than good. It was bliss.
How had she gone without this?! She wanted to experience it everyday!
She wanted him. He wanted her. The outcome was simply inevitable.
Sitting up atop his lap, she bared herself to him, but not fully, trying to hide her scars in the dark - there were so many after all- yet he wasn't having it. Nathaniel -Naruto!- kissed each one of them. Three by her bosom, one just shy of her heart, another near her ribs and a sixth at her neck. She had more still on her legs from narrow escapes when she was much younger. Each were of the wounds she'd taken since she first took up her daggers, of injuries gained both in Westeros and Braavos alike.
Each were blessed by his lips.
He lavished attention upon her full breasts, nuzzled her neck, devoting himself to each and every one of her old wounds until she was gasping and mewling in his lap, begging for mercy. Her lord granted it to her almost reluctantly, turning his attention to her scarred facade, followed by her mouth.
He muttered something between those kisses, speaking in a language she didn't understand. His fingers brushed her marred visage; she felt a strange tingle in her face then, just over her old wound. The words were older than High Valyrian, ancient even, and for a moment she could've sworn his palms actually glowed gold. Whatever he'd done, whatever was doing, she had no mirror by which to see. In the end, she didn't dwell on it; she'd see come morning. For now she had concerns of a more carnal variety.
Lyanna and Cersei and Elia and that bloody dragon queen may well take pieces from him in the future, but she would be first.
His unforgettable first.
Whether the realm learned of her or not, she didn't care.
In fact, she was quite content to fade into obscurity; so long as she had him.
Her hands cupped her lord's face and she kissed him deeply as they coupled, letting his fingers tangle in her pale hair. Nuzzling her forehead with her own, she rubbed her face against his, gasping but a little as his hands settled upon her flank and urged her on, quickening her pace atop him. She tilted her head back, arched her neck...
...and pushed him back down to the sands.
Reveling in his stunned expression she swayed atop him as she'd once seen the dancers of Braavos do, breasts bouncing as she ground herself against him. Each movement was made in sensual slowness, drawing out every moment for her own enjoyment and his pleasure. To the hells with the rest. She wanted this. She needed this. She'd stood by idly by for so long, suffering in silence while everyone else got what they wanted. No more. She was "a girl" no longer. She was a woman. She was Nymeria.
Nathaniel bucked against her and suddenly it was she who found herself pinned, pressed atop their scattered clothes into the sand.
If she'd thought their earlier positions were grand, then this was even better.
She locked her legs around his waist and arched her back, urging him on.
Sweet, glorious release.
(.0.0.0.)
In hindsight, Naruto shouldn't known it was too much to hope the ladies wouldn't have a catfight...
Thankfully, he wasn't present to witness the chaos that followed the next morning.
Alas, it began as most things often do, with a careless remark.
"So you are to wed Nathaniel, then?
Lyanna lowered her blunted blade and lifted her chin, bridling just a little at the sudden inquiry. In an instant she became keenly aware of Cersei's green gaze piercing her from across the room. She wasn't the one to make that inquiry, however, nor had the hapless straw man she'd been whaling on.
No, the question came from Ellia Martell.
She didn't think the Dornishwoman meant anything untoward by what she'd said just now, but it was so hard to tell sometimes; even the most innocuous remarks often held a hidden edge beneath the satin. Even now she couldn't quite quantify the meaning behind her words. As though she were testing. Probing her. Gauging her for any sign of weakness.
Well, she would give her none. "I am." she said instead. "Our fathers made a match between us; he is to be my betrothed. What of it?"
"Hmhmm." the princess of Dorne hummed once, reached down, took up a practice weapon -a shortsword?- of her own and waded into the ring after her. "And you love him, I trust?"
"L-L-Love?!"
Her face flushed to the very roots of her hair, causing Cersei to tut in mild amusement at her plight.
"Sister," Oberyn saw it and blew out a sigh as he prepared his own spear to face the Lannister girl in mock combat. "Do not torment the poor girl...
Ellia clicked her tongue at him and adopted a loose stance, smooth and shifting as the sands of her homeland. "I am not tormenting her, brother. I simply wish to satisfy my curiosity."
"By embarrassing her?"
Cersei saw an opening and used it to land the first strike against him, sweeping low to make the princeling hop backwards. The moment his feet touched the ground, she went on the attack, putting him on the backfoot in a whirl of strikes that, while not necessarily graceful, more than made up for it in ferocity.
Tyrion applauded happily on the sidelines. "Well fought, sister!
Lyanna watched them warily, fearing she might one day pursue Nathaniel with the same intensity.
In all honesty...did not know how to feel about that. Such love between kin was technically taboo, yet had the Targaryens not wed brother and sister together for centuries? It seemed a slippery slope, made all the more treacherous by Cersei's implicit offer of "help" in the bedroom. Why, just thinking of it made her burn. Surely the art of lovemaking couldn't be that, but this was Nathaniel's sister...
"I asked you a question, girl."
Right, she'd forgotten about the Martell.
Annoyed, she used the reprieve to rally and glare Ellia's way. "Of course I love Nathaniel. I wouldn't wed him otherwise."
"Are you sure about that?" swift as a serpent, she flicked the blade her way, forcing her a hasty parry. "Love and lust are two very different things. One lasts. The other does not."
A scowl writ itself across her face, a thrust leading into an overhand swing that was in turn nimbly dodged. "And what do you know of love?!"
"More than you can possibly know, Stark." Ellia circled round and slapped her vulnerable flank with the flat of her blunted blade in passing, drawing an indignant squawk from Lyanna in return. "Perhaps if you paid attention, you would learn."
Indignant, she sputtered at her. "I've learned a great many things!"
"In Winterfell perhaps, but not of the future, not where it matters." Elia granted her a small, sad smile, suddenly seeming decades older than she truly was. "You think that chivalry and honor and nobility will save you from what is to come, but they will not. You know nothing, Lyanna Stark. Love least of all."
Her right eye twitched, and not for the reasons one might expect. "Silence!"
The princess backed away, crooking one finger after herself. "I'm afraid you'll have to make me thus...
Lunging forwards, Lyanna braved her blade with both hands and barged into Ellia's guard, ignoring the riposte that rattled her ribs to smack away her weapon.
This time, Oberyn's sister wasn't quite quick enough to get out of the way.
Howling her triumph, Lyanna landed a powerful blow against the smug girl's shoulder and send her staggering. Blazing with triumph, she drove a boot forward into the girl's bosom to kick her to the training room floor. A distant shout informed her that Oberyn had landed a similar strike on Cersei via sweeping her legs, leaving her sprawled on the flagstones.
"Better." Elia climbed to her feet, dusted herself off, and knelt to retrieve her sword once more. "There may be some fight in you yet."
Lyanna growled and waded in, sword swinging.
Alas, the Martell girl had learned from her mistake and was no longer easy prey. She might well be stronger than her, but the girl was older and faster. She swayed away from each sweep, gladly giving ground one step at a time, yet careful to never let herself be backed into a corner. The result was something of a circular chase that rather left her feeling like a fool, unable to reach her. Round and round they went, with Ellia ever out of reach, a cycle without end.
Until it didn't.
Quick as can be, Elia stopped evading and danced into her defenses, stomping down at her foot before striking with startling speed. Lyanna didn't recognize the style, yet handily blocked the first lung, slightly less so the second, and when the third swooped in at her legs as Oberyn had done for Cersei she immediately made to block her lower torso...
.
..
...only to find herself blocking only empty air.
A feint?!
Ellia's swept up under her chin before she could recover. "Yield. You are beaten. It is useless to resist."
Lyanna desperately wanted to. More than anything, she longed to fight on; win, prove herself...but she couldn't.
Infuriated, she cast her sword down to the ground, the steel creating a harsh clatter as it met the stone. Across the makeshift arena, she dimly saw Oberyn helping a sullen Cersei to her feet. There was a small tear in her right sleeve that wept blood, and Tyrion was already toddling over with a fresh roll of linen to wrap it. Seemed she hadn't fared much better than her, at least.
But for some reason, Ellia still hadn't moved the sword from her throat. "I will ask you again; do you love Nathaniel Lannister? Will you be true to him? Are prepared to defend him against the wars and horrors to come?"
Lyanna thumped a fist to her bosom and inclined her head curtly. "...I do, I will, and I shall."
Ellia scrutinized her for a long moment. Only then did she lower her blade. "We shall see, Stark."
Nathaniel would've had something to say about her tone just now. But Nathaniel wasn't here to defend himself now, was he? He'd wandered off to do gods-knew-what last night and hadn't returned. Lord Tywn didn't seem too concerned. Her betrothed was likely looking for Nymeria or somesuch, and hopefully to knock some sense into her.
Thick as thieves, those two. She hoped he could talk some sense into her. It would be a shame to lose such a loyal friend.
Why all these questions? It had something to do with that Heart Tree in the Stone Garden, didn't it? She must've seen something. She just knew it. They had one just like it back in Winterfell, but older, healthier. Yet for all that, it had never once spoken to her, but here Ellia was talking of multiple wars that hadn't even begun just yet.
And what horrors? Surely she wasn't talking of them. They'd been gone for ages...
Aha. She finally understood. Ellia cared deeply for Naruto.
Perhaps almost as much as she did.
That much, she could respect, even if she secretly wanted him all to herself. Alas, that seemed less and less likely by the day. They were going to have a long talk about this, he and her. It was going to be loud. Whether that was an angry loud or a more...satisfactory one would be entirely up to him.
"Now, then. Another question." Here at last, Ellia's smile turned sly. "Do you know how to please a man in bed?"
"She does not~!" Cersei sang from across the room, wearing the biggest smile. "Its quite the problem."
Ellia huffed. "Quiet, Lannister. I'll deal with you and your nonsense later."
Nathaniel's sister smiled on, undaunted.
Lyanna scarcely heard either of them; because her mind had mind fizzled right out. Why was everyone asking her that question?! They'd come close, yes, but they'd not yet done...that together, though she knew such would be expected, as husband and wife. She was rather looking forward to it, in all honesty.
Now if only everyone would stop teasing her about it!
"There, there," Ellia tutted as an older sister might, taking her by the hand, "Do not fret. We are taught such things in Dorne. I can teach you."
She could? Lyanna squinted at her, not trusting her quiet yet. "And what would the price for such assistance be?"
"A modest sum...
She didn't think it would be modest at all, and it was not.
"You can be his wife all you like," Ellia said, all smiles. "I'd much rather be his mistress."
Tyrion balked.
Cersei's jaw clicked open.
Lyanna choked on her own spit.
Oberyn clapped a hand to his forehead. "Dear sister, why are you like this...
"I am rather fond of our Lion, as you well know." still wearing said smile, the princess of Dorne took ahold of Lyanna's free hand, preventing her from squirming away or worse, lashing out. "I was fortunate enough to meet him before you did, but I can hardly claim to have done anything with him. We merely held hands while we walked and talked for a time."
Had she been a dragon, Lyanna would've spat sparks.
What?! Held hands?! Before she had?!
That scandalous harlot!
It was even worse than she feared, then. Another challenger approached. She wanted to thump her over the head and leave her for dead...but no. Nathaniel would never forgive her if Ellia had an "accident" in Casterly Rock. Worse, it would make the Lannisters seem untrustworthy and make an enemy of Dorne. She knew better. She did. Really.
Must! Not! Kill!
"Oh, dear." Ellia giggled with saccharine sweetness, "You seem rather cross. Perhaps I touched a nerve?"
"Keep your lessons." Lyanna forced the words out through grit teeth. "I'll bed and wed him myself."
Ellia tilted her head. "Are you sure? That sounds rather unwise if you ask me...
She didn't want to woo him with another woman's methods. She wanted him to love her for...well, her. Even if his heart could never truly belong to her and her alone fractured as he was, she was damn well determined to hold the largest piece of it.
"I said no!"
Cersei sidled up to her with a smile, sensing a challenge. "May the best woman win, then?"
Lyanna scowled her way. "Why are you even involved in this?!"
"Because I have his best interests at heart. As do you."
Her face flushed. "You cannot be serious!"
A shrug was her sole reward.
"I concur." Ellia clapped her hands and inclined her head in delighted agreement. "We all want what's best for him, do we not?"
On that, they were of one mind, they only disagreed on what they thought the best should be.
Lyanna bridled, rightfully incensed. Fine, then! She would show them both!
And every other challenger besides!
This meant war!
A/N: What can I say? A girl stole the show.
The catfight has begun and its clearly far from over.
This chapter was quite long, and it took a lot out of me. Hope it was worth it.
We'll cut it here for now, work is calling my name as always. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it.
Should this remain a story? Would you like weekly updates? I've got five slots left. Or should it remain monthly? By all means, speak up.
So...in the immortal words of Atlas...
...Review...Would Ya Kindly? And of course, Enjoy the previews. Potential ones...
Previews are -mostly!- the same this time. Didn't want to spoil the upcoming chapters.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
SPOILERS LAY AHEAD!
YE BE WARNED~!
(PREVIEWS)
Naruto returned. Frowned. Blinked, now. "What did I miss...?"
Lyanna idly noticed Nymeria by his side. She had returned, it seemed. And she was standing awfully close to him.
Almost leaning against him. Wait...!
Ohhh that sneaky bitch...
Nymeria finally caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Her violet-grey eyes widened, bulged now in disbelief.
Her facial scar was nowhere to be seen.
So that was what he had done.
She began to laugh.
How sharp are those knives of yours? Have you gotten rusty?
Her smile was feral.
A girl is ready.
The Stark forces arrived just in time.
Some of the Northmen grumbled at the idea of helping Westerners; that much was to be expected.
Still, they were Northerners, they kept their word, and the Greyjoys were an old enemy.
For a Wolf, the Kraken seemed as good a foe as any.
Lyanna saw the man standing at the head of the column, leading them...!
She leaped into his arms with a delighted cry.
"Father!"
The Greyjoy fleet sailed into Lannisport that very night under cover of darkness.
They were well prepared for them, the foolish Krakens.
From his hideaway in the docks, Naruto knocked three arrow to his black blow.
Such an act was difficult, even for him, but he managed.
Pushed chakra into them now, and...!
Let them fly.
Each soared into the air silent as a whisper
As for what followed...well.
That would be telling.
The Greyjoys never stood a chance.
Ships sailed toward the Iron Islands.
It would be a massacre.
But for whom?
EDIT: Hey, you made it! I do hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. By all means, feel free to let me know what you think!
Looking forward to your feedback/chatting with you when I get back from work!
Hope you have a great day filled with lots of luck,
~Nz.
R ~! =D