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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Roose Bolton sat at the wooden desk in the Lord Commander’s study, his eyes scanning a letter in front of him. It had been a little over three weeks since he and his forces arrived at the Wall to aid the Night’s Watch and he had been keeping busy writing to the various lords of the realm, on Jon’s behalf. Many had refused to send aid while some hadn’t answered back at all. However, there were a small few who still possessed a smattering of respect for the Night’s Watch and had agreed to come to their aid. The latest was a letter from the new Lord Umber, who had pledged support to the Night’s Watch. He had promised to send two-hundred-foot soldiers and a few wagons of supplies to feed them.
He wasn’t entirely too surprised to see that most of the promised help had come from the Northern lords, though they could only send small numbers after the recent war. While he had mixed feelings about this, he was confident Jon Snow had no intentions of breaking his vows to the Night’s Watch. Stark honor still meant something, even if most of them were dead now. Part of him had feared that the boy might try to do him harm or desert and stage some sort of foolish rebellion, but he genuinely seemed more concerned with drilling the remaining members of the Night’s Watch and preparing for the upcoming battle than anything else.
Since their arrival at the wall, the Bolton men and the remaining brothers of the Night’s Watch had been kept busy cutting back the forests beyond the wall as well as repairing some of the damaged areas of Castle Black. The work was long and hard, but the results were worth it. A few towers had been restored and with the forest cut back the wildlings would have to attack the wall without the safe cover of the forest to protect them from arrows. Every now and then, small groups of soldiers would arrive under the command of one lord or another to aid the Night’s watch. Most were from the North, but a few had been ousted River lords with their remaining troops, come to aid the Night’s Watch.
Their biggest surprise had come from the Vale a few days ago.
(Flashback)
Around midday, Jon had been in the courtyard supervising training drills for the Night’s Watch brethren when a loud horn sounded, and a steward came running across the snow-covered yard.
“Lord Commander Snow. At the gates. A large host. Come quickly.” The steward said out of breath from the long run.
Jon excused himself leaving Ser Alliser Thorne in charge of the drills while he followed the ranger back to the gates. When they reached the gates and mounted the wall, they saw just beyond the walls, a large host marching under a blue banner with a large black trout emblazoned on it. Here and there were a few other sigils. Jon gave the order to open the gates immediately as he hurried down to the yard below to meet the host in person.
As the gates opened, in rode the Blackfish on an old grey charger, surrounded by various lords and knights from the Vale, their combined host at their back. The Blackfish dismounted his horse as his companions did likewise. Stewards hurried forward to take their horses as the Blackfish and Jon Snow approached each other. The two stood there looking each other over for a few moments before the Blackfish smiled and held out a hand to Jon.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Snow. You look so much like Ned. I heard you were having some trouble with the wildlings north of the wall and thought I’d come to help you out.” He said as he cast an eye around the courtyard, taking in the men rushing about their work.
Jon gaped for a moment but finally, he found his tongue and replied. “You are indeed most welcome. It’s an honor to have a commander of your skill and wisdom here with us. The truth is we could use all the help we can get.”
The pair spoke for a few moments before Jon led the Blackfish and the lords from the Vale into Castle Black proper as the stewards helped the soldiers settle into one of the newly repaired towers.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
“That’s all for today, Lady Lannister. You’re doing well so far. I think you could become quite skilled if you continue to practice.” Jaqen said, impressed.
“Thank you so much. That means a lot. I’ve been practicing every moment that I can. Ser Jaime has been a big help too.” Arya replied, turning to Jaime who stood leaning against the far wall, watching them.
“We’ll continue your lessons again tomorrow at noon, my lady.” Jaqen replied as he took the training swords and left the room, leaving only Ser Jaime and Arya behind.
Arya raced over to Jaime, grinning. “Well? What did you think? I know I’ve got a lot to learn but I’m getting better.” She said, breathing hard.
Jaime pretended to think for a moment, making her glare, before replying. “You’re doing a lot better, actually. I’m very proud of you. You’re quick and agile, which will be an asset against much stronger opponents.” He said encouragingly as they walked back towards the tower of the hand together.
Arya grinned widely and nodded. “Thanks, Ser Jaime.”
When they reached the tower of the hand the Lannister guards standing at attention quickly stood aside letting them pass. They had just entered the tower when they heard loud shouting and raced through the hallway, heading for the suite of rooms Arya shared with Tywin.
“No, no, no! It’s been almost a month. I refuse to lay in this bed another minute. I feel much better, besides I have too much to do to lay around any longer.” Tywin shouted as he ignored Pycelle’s attempts to persuade him otherwise.
Opening the door, Arya raced inside while Jaime stood in the doorway watching the scene unfold before him. “But my lord, your wound is barely healed. You’ll only wind up in pain if you push yourself like this.” Pycelle said nervously.
“At my age aches and pains are to be expected.” Tywin snapped at him, from where he sat on the bed, pulling on his boots.
Pycelle spluttered, face pale while Arya did her best to try and soothe Tywin. “Tywin, please. He’s only trying to help.” Arya pleaded.
“He can help by leaving. My wound is fine now, and I’ve no need for his ministrations any longer. Now leave, all of you.” Tywin said.
“But my lord…” Pycelle started as Tywin grabbed him by the arm, pushing him back through the doorway before closing the door in his and Jaime’s faces as he turned around to face Arya, a smirk on his face.
“How was your training session with your instructor, sweetheart?” Tywin asked, crossing the room to the desk and fastening the golden hand’s pin on his shirt before turning to face her.
“It went well. I’m getting much better.” Arya replied, smiling.
“Good. I’m pleased to hear it. Now get changed. I have a surprise for you.” Tywin stated, his gaze fixed on her.
“A surprise, my lord? What is it?” She asked, eagerly.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Just get dressed.” Tywin said, smiling at her.
Swallowing nervously, Arya crossed the room, to the wardrobe she shared with Tywin and took out one of the tunics and a pair of breeches that he had acquired for her. Casting him a nervous glance over her shoulder, she turned away from him and quickly began to change.
Confused by her sudden shyness, Tywin frowned but thought nothing of it at the time, turning to finish getting ready himself. When she was changed, he led her out of their apartments to the set of rooms, previously occupied by her sister. Nodding at the pair of Lannister guards standing watch outside, he opened the door as they stepped aside and ushered her inside.
Arya entered and froze, surprised and at the same time delighted. Sitting on a cushioned chair by the window, looking out over the sprawling city of King’s Landing below was her mother. Racing forward, Arya quickly crossed the room and wrapped her mother in a tight hug.
Surprised at first, Lady Catelyn quickly brightened up, having not seen her youngest daughter in the four years since she had traveled south to King’s Landing. Arya had recently celebrated her fifteenth name day and the scrawny gangly girl from Winterfell was long gone. “Arya, my sweet Arya. I’m so happy to see you. Let me look at you.” Lady Catelyn gushed, pulling back to look her daughter over, tears misting in her eyes.
Taking in the sight of the roaring golden lion sewn into the breast of Arya’s tunic she frowned slightly but it was gone as she quickly smiled, hugging her daughter once more. “We lost all word of you after your father was killed. What happened to you? Sansa was captured by the Lannisters and we didn’t hear anything about you. I…I feared I had lost you too. The look in her eyes nearly made Arya cry as well, as she looked up at her mother. They had been apart for too long, and most of her family was now gone. “I’m sorry about Bran and Rickon, mother. Tywin told me they were lost when Theon seized Winterfell. And Robb…” At this point, there were tears in Arya’s eyes which she did her best to hide.
Arya, where is your sister? Where is Sansa? She is here, isn’t she? Why hasn’t she visited?” Catelyn asked, pain laced in with her words.
Arya shook her head sadly at this. “Lord Varys says she was kidnapped and taken to the Eyrie. She’s with Aunt Lysa.”
Catelyn slumped visibly in a mix of relief, joy, and sorrow. “It’s alright, sweetheart. As long as she is safe. That’s all that matters. My boys are gone but I still have you and Sansa. That’s a small comfort at least.” She said, trying to reassure both Arya and herself.
“That’s not entirely true, mother. It’s not just you, me and Sansa. At least not for much longer anyway.” Arya said, biting her lip softly.
“What do you mean? What’s happened? Have you heard anything about the boys? Please tell me.” Catelyn implored, tears streaming down her face.
“Well, no actually. It’s just that I married Tywin, as you know. And shortly after… well.” Arya cut off, uncertain how to finish her sentence.
Lady Catelyn looked bewildered for a moment before anger suddenly clouded her gaze. Furious she shoved her daughter away and turned away from her, leaving a devastated Arya to stare helplessly at her mother’s back.
Tywin slowly crossed the room, his gaze fixed on her as he took her hand, leading her from the room. The door closed behind them and the Lannister soldiers resumed their place in front of the door. Walking down the hallway back toward Tywin’s solar, he occasionally glanced at her, uncertain whether he had understood correctly. “When were you going to tell me?” He asked, awkwardly when they were alone in his solar.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
She was walking through the Godswood of the Eyrie in a hurry to get to her room. She was on the verge of tears after a fight with her cousin Robyn. Sometimes he could be so selfish and say hurtful things. She wished he would just grow up, but with Lysa coddling him as she did that wasn’t likely to happen. Tears in her eyes and sniffling softly, Sansa wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped into something solid. Stepping back, she looked up and saw Petyr standing there looking at her, concern in his eyes.
“Sansa, sweetness, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked, reaching out to caress her chin.
“I…it’s nothing, don’t worry. I’m fine, Petyr.” She sniffled, wiping away a tear in her eye.
“No, no you’re not. You can trust me, Sansa. Tell me what’s wrong?” He soothed, wrapping her in his arms.
Sansa felt slightly uncomfortable, but they had continued the pretense of her being Petyr’s bastard daughter in front of the servants for her own safety, so she tried to hide her discomfort and play along with the charade. “It’s just something Robyn said. Sometimes he can be so rude and childish. It’s so frustrating at times trying to deal with him.” She said, her eyes downcast.
Petyr caressed her cheek and brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “Well, girls mature faster than boys do. Shh now, sweetheart. It’ll be alright. I love you.” He said softly, before surprising her by kissing her lips.
Startled, she pushed him away and looked at him. She saw hurt in his eyes, but he quickly hid it and excused himself before walking away. Sansa continued on her way to her room, never seeing her Aunt Lysa standing in the balcony above them, a crazed look in her eyes.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Later that day, Sansa lay in her bed, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief when a knock sounded at the door to her chambers. Startled, she stood and went to answer the door. Opening it she felt panic flood her as she saw Marillion standing in the doorway, a leer on his face as he stared at her chest. “What do you want?” She said, tensely as she covered her chest with her arms.
Marillion’s eyes snapped up and he met her gaze. “Lady Lysa would like to see you in the audience chamber.” He said as he turned, motioning for her to follow without giving her another look.
Fighting to hide her discomfort, she followed him through the halls and into the audience chamber, absently noticing that it was deserted except for her Aunt Lysa who stood just inside the room, waiting for her. Marillion lead her inside the room and Lysa took her by the hand leading her farther inside as she heard the door close behind her and a bolt slammed into place. Nervously, she tried to speak but Lysa shushed her, her grip on Sansa’s arm tightening considerably. Behind them, Marillion began to play his harp and sing loudly.
“Aunt Lysa, what exactly did you want to see me about? Where’s Petyr?” She asked, wincing as Lysa’s sharp nails dug painfully into her arm at the sound of his name.
“You two are very close, aren’t you?” She snapped angrily, turning to face Sansa. “It’s because you look so much like your mother. Petyr always chased after Cat like a lost puppy. He couldn’t see how much it hurt me, how much I loved him. He was always obsessed with her. No matter what I did. Catelyn this and Catelyn that. Perfect Catelyn.” She snapped angrily as she jerked roughly on Sansa’s arm pulling her along behind her. She reached for the lever that opened the moon door and yanked it hard, grinning madly as the wind rushed up to meet them. The look in her eyes made Sansa panic. Desperately she tried to move away, but Lysa smacked her hard, throwing her off balance.
Sansa was now terrified, but Lysa continued to ramble on, a wild look in her eyes. “I loved him more than anything, I still do. I even secured a post for him at court, as Master of Coin. Of course, he was so clever too. He spent all his time building up his little business, his whores. Filthy women with low morals who did nothing but tempt him,” Lysa spat, her hands grabbing Sansa, pushing her closer to the moon door. “Does he touch you? Does he make you scream in pleasure like he does his whores? How many times have you slept with him?” Lysa shouted in a shrill voice, as Sansa sobbed, now just a few feet away from the moon door, desperately trying to escape.
“Please, Aunt Lysa. You’ve got it all wrong. There’s nothing like that between me and Petyr. I’m only here because he rescued me from King’s Landing. He promised to take me home, to Winterfell, to my family.” She pleaded, but Lysa shook her head, face purple with rage.
“Don’t lie to me, you little slut. Do you take me for a fool? I saw him kiss you.” Lysa raged hysterically, madness shining in her eyes as she moved to push Sansa through the moon door when a voice sounded behind them.
“Lysa, sweetheart, please calm down. Listen to me for just a minute before you do something you’ll regret later.” Petyr said as he slowly crossed the room, his arms held out for her. “Please, calm down. I love you.” He pleaded softly.
Lysa sobbed, letting go of Sansa who quickly moved away from the moon door and far away from Lysa. In the background, Marillion continued to play. “Why? Why did you have to do this? Why did you kiss her? I’d have done anything for you. You know that. I poisoned my husband for you. I wrote that letter to Cat, framing the Lannisters for Jon’s murder, just like you asked me too.” Lysa said, in hysterics as Petyr walked forward, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t you love me, Petyr? You said you did.” Petyr calmly looked her in the eyes. “There is only one woman I’ve ever truly loved in my life. Catelyn Tully.” Petyr said, disgust and anger in his eyes as he pushed Lysa through the moon door.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Over the last few weeks, she had been working tirelessly on her plans, plying Balon with flattery, stroking his ego and using her body to ensnare him. It was working perfectly. He was absolutely obsessed with her now, every night taking his rights as her husband. Beside her in bed, Balon lay breathing heavily. They had just been intimate yet again. “Husband, you’re so strong, so powerful, so manly. Why settle for being a lapdog for the Crown when you could be a king yourself? If you sail your fleet to King’s Landing, you could seize the captial and take the throne for yourself.” She purred, her hand stroking his manhood, teasing him back to full erection. “Picture it. Balon Greyjoy, King of Westeros. All those stuck up mainlanders forced to kneel and kiss your boots. Wouldn’t that be so wonderful? You could bring glory to the Iron Islands and to your house.” She whispered into his ear, her hand wrapped around his cock, slowly jerking him off while he moaned, listening to her speak.
“King Balon Greyjoy, long may he reign.” He muttered softly as he closed his eyes, imagining the scene briefly.
Cersei suppressed a shudder but smiled. “Oh yes, doesn’t it sound wonderful husband?”
Balon shook his head and pushed her hand aside. “I’m afraid it’s impossible. Earlier this week your father agreed to a betrothal match between his heir Tyrion and my daughter Yara. I can’t betray him now. It’s too late.”
Cersei started angrily, pulling away. “A betrothal to Tyrion? His heir? How could you possibly agree to that? It’s outrageous. How stupid are you? I refuse to allow this.” Cersei snapped hysterically.
Balon glared at her, his hand reaching out, striking her as he yelled. “You watch your mouth, cunt. I am lord of the Iron Islands, not you. I rule here, not you. I tolerate you because you’re a good fuck, but it’s time you learned your place here. Don’t think you can just order me around in my own home like a servant. I shall do as I please and you’ll obey, or else.” Balon snapped as he stood, pulling on his clothes before storming from the room, leaving a fuming Cersei behind.
TBC
- 16
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- 18
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl