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He grinned at her, pulling her along and away from the lanterns. He didn't want to think anymore of the darker memories. Shadows lurked there and he needed to be somewhere warmer and brighter, somewhere he could breathe again. His hand linked with hers naturally, leading her down the district towards one of the quieter taverns.
All the talk of food made him hungry. "So have I. There wasn't much to eat beyond the Wall. There was horse, some snow rabbits and birds, but we usually had to eat more rancid meats." He wouldn't even go into lighting fires with frozen shit, which made the taste of the meat even worse.
"I don't have preferences anymore." He chuckled, glancing towards her. "You never had the food from Castle Black. I taught myself to eat without tasting food."
All the talk of food made him hungry. "So have I. There wasn't much to eat beyond the Wall. There was horse, some snow rabbits and birds, but we usually had to eat more rancid meats." He wouldn't even go into lighting fires with frozen shit, which made the taste of the meat even worse.
"I don't have preferences anymore." He chuckled, glancing towards her. "You never had the food from Castle Black. I taught myself to eat without tasting food."
Oddly, she doesn't mind the markings he's left. Caught in the moment, she'd proffered her own in kind, leaving sharp red welts where her nails scratched him. Maybe under other circumstances his mark and bruises would bother her. Only time would tell if that sort of claiming would cause future issue; as for now, there is only the relief of having him near.
Her arms remain loosely looped around his shoulders, which means she's pulled after him as he leans back. Still maintaining enough space between them, her eyes rove over his features. The water of the springs laps against her torso, soaking loosened chunks of her hair, causing them to stick to her back.
But she has an idea of what this district is like, given the establishment he's taken her to, as well as the body paints. Oh, the body paints.
With a faint smile, she leans forward to press her lips to his. A lingering kiss ended much too soon when she pulls back and pushes up to her feet, climbing out of the springs. His seed has long since been washed from her legs when they separated; only water sluices down her body as she fetches the little paint pots from her tunic's pockets.
She's back moments later, stepping back into the springs, straddling his lap as if she'd never left, balancing the various colors in her hands.
"We still need to use these."
Her arms remain loosely looped around his shoulders, which means she's pulled after him as he leans back. Still maintaining enough space between them, her eyes rove over his features. The water of the springs laps against her torso, soaking loosened chunks of her hair, causing them to stick to her back.
But she has an idea of what this district is like, given the establishment he's taken her to, as well as the body paints. Oh, the body paints.
With a faint smile, she leans forward to press her lips to his. A lingering kiss ended much too soon when she pulls back and pushes up to her feet, climbing out of the springs. His seed has long since been washed from her legs when they separated; only water sluices down her body as she fetches the little paint pots from her tunic's pockets.
She's back moments later, stepping back into the springs, straddling his lap as if she'd never left, balancing the various colors in her hands.
"We still need to use these."
"The cold didn't freeze it well enough? You didn't cure your meats?"
She falls into step beside him, fingers hooking with his. It's still strange to show such affection in public, especially when they'd had the worries of maintaining appearances before their people.
"I've eaten raw horse heart." And then there was all the things in the desert they'd needed to catch, things she's no wish to think of now, years later. "Not rancid, by any means... no matter how many flies buzzed around me."
She falls into step beside him, fingers hooking with his. It's still strange to show such affection in public, especially when they'd had the worries of maintaining appearances before their people.
"I've eaten raw horse heart." And then there was all the things in the desert they'd needed to catch, things she's no wish to think of now, years later. "Not rancid, by any means... no matter how many flies buzzed around me."
An emptiness follows as she climbs out of the water, taking all of the heat with her. He watches her in amusement, craning his head to follow her naked form as she moved to retrieve the paint pots. He'd forgotten about them in the heat of the moment, but the taste of the paint returns to his tongue, a sudden reminder of what brought them here.
As she settles back in his lap, he lifts up the pot for better inspection. "How are we supposed to use these?" He asked. Despite having slept with her a few times before and several times with Ygritte, he didn't have very much creativity in the different ways lovers could play. He lived his life too seriously and come too late into love.
He dipped his fingers into it, pulling out a glob of red. Gently, he smeared it along the side of her neck, watching as the sharp angles turned crimson. His eyes darkened, wondering what it would be like to lick it clean.
As she settles back in his lap, he lifts up the pot for better inspection. "How are we supposed to use these?" He asked. Despite having slept with her a few times before and several times with Ygritte, he didn't have very much creativity in the different ways lovers could play. He lived his life too seriously and come too late into love.
He dipped his fingers into it, pulling out a glob of red. Gently, he smeared it along the side of her neck, watching as the sharp angles turned crimson. His eyes darkened, wondering what it would be like to lick it clean.
"Reserves ran out the longer we were beyond the Wall. Salt isn't always available, not in the ice and snow."
He didn't notice any attention they received. While they had been reserved and circumspect in their affections on Dragonstone, he didn't want to hold back anymore. Before they began to travel North, he had dismissed his old concerns away. There may not have been time for it when he met her, but he didn't care. he would take advantage of the time they had.
He grinned at her. "How did you manage to keep it down?" He didn't think she was a delicate woman, but even raw horse heart might be too much for him.
He didn't notice any attention they received. While they had been reserved and circumspect in their affections on Dragonstone, he didn't want to hold back anymore. Before they began to travel North, he had dismissed his old concerns away. There may not have been time for it when he met her, but he didn't care. he would take advantage of the time they had.
He grinned at her. "How did you manage to keep it down?" He didn't think she was a delicate woman, but even raw horse heart might be too much for him.
She sets the others aside on the ledge behind them, and opens her own jar up. It's a pale blue, with little flecks of sunshine glimmering inside the paint when the flames inside this place catch a certain way.
She's considering the pain when suddenly cool wetness is on her throat, tugging her focus back to him. She'd not been entirely sure of its uses until those on the streets of this district hinted to ideas she'd never considered before. Things she would like to do with him, maybe.
Definitely, when the look in his eyes shifts. But he makes no motion to do much else, save consider the paint on her... so she shifts on his lap and begins drawing on his chest. First a 'D,' then an 'a,' and so on and so forth, patiently she reaches for more paint, her touch light, as she spells her name across his chest, looking all too pleased with the end result as she lifts her finger to her lips to suck off the last remnants of sweetness to the paint.
"I saw some with designs on their faces and chests." Frowning, she only now realizes some of the paint's on one of his scars. "Oh Jon, I'm sorry, I didn't think about..."
Your scars.
She's considering the pain when suddenly cool wetness is on her throat, tugging her focus back to him. She'd not been entirely sure of its uses until those on the streets of this district hinted to ideas she'd never considered before. Things she would like to do with him, maybe.
Definitely, when the look in his eyes shifts. But he makes no motion to do much else, save consider the paint on her... so she shifts on his lap and begins drawing on his chest. First a 'D,' then an 'a,' and so on and so forth, patiently she reaches for more paint, her touch light, as she spells her name across his chest, looking all too pleased with the end result as she lifts her finger to her lips to suck off the last remnants of sweetness to the paint.
"I saw some with designs on their faces and chests." Frowning, she only now realizes some of the paint's on one of his scars. "Oh Jon, I'm sorry, I didn't think about..."
Your scars.
How long had it been since he played? Most likely when he was a boy, but how long before Robert came? When Arya and Bran were still small, Robb and lured them and Sansa down to the crypts where Jon had waited, dressed like ghost to scare them. That was the last he could remember. Everything after that seemed to lose that same shade of amusement and fun, weighed down by responsibilities and disappointment.
She doesn't seem to have any of those questions or uncertainty. Instead, she spelled out her name, letting him glimpse her without age and burdens to hide behind. She was almost like a girl, claiming him with her paint.
He rocked his hips up as she sucked on her fingers, not realizing what she had done until she called attention to it. He glanced down, just as surprised as she was. "Neither did I." Somewhere between leaving the Wall and the boat they traveled North on, he forgot that she would see or realize what his scars were.
Guiding her hand, he encouraged her to trace over them, smearing more paint along the scars. A gentle reassurance that he didn't mind.
She doesn't seem to have any of those questions or uncertainty. Instead, she spelled out her name, letting him glimpse her without age and burdens to hide behind. She was almost like a girl, claiming him with her paint.
He rocked his hips up as she sucked on her fingers, not realizing what she had done until she called attention to it. He glanced down, just as surprised as she was. "Neither did I." Somewhere between leaving the Wall and the boat they traveled North on, he forgot that she would see or realize what his scars were.
Guiding her hand, he encouraged her to trace over them, smearing more paint along the scars. A gentle reassurance that he didn't mind.
"So it went bad." The disgust isn't well hidden in her tone. "What else were you able to eat so far north?"
No looks are spared their way now, which is well and good enough. They've no need of scrutiny. There was enough of it in so many other ways, that their feelings for one another were better left between themselves.
"I had no choice." Not if she wanted to be strong. Not if she wanted a strong son. "I was pregnant as well at the time. Nearly vomited anything I ate up before that. The smell of blood after made me near wretch."
No looks are spared their way now, which is well and good enough. They've no need of scrutiny. There was enough of it in so many other ways, that their feelings for one another were better left between themselves.
"I had no choice." Not if she wanted to be strong. Not if she wanted a strong son. "I was pregnant as well at the time. Nearly vomited anything I ate up before that. The smell of blood after made me near wretch."
"There were some snow rabbits, if we were lucky to find them. There were some birds as well, but it was better to ration what we had. Horse lasted longer than rabbit and bird." There was more meat from the horses anyway.
He holds open the door for her, letting her slip into the tavern first. It's relatively quiet, as most were out celebrating. Those that were there stayed close to the bar and to the front. Near the back, there was a smaller table by the windows. They would be in the corner, granting them a semblance of privacy.
"Was it a Dothraki ceremony?" He didn't know very much about her early years before her dragons were born. This was the first he had heard of her being pregnant at all. "After you finish that, you can eat anything."
He holds open the door for her, letting her slip into the tavern first. It's relatively quiet, as most were out celebrating. Those that were there stayed close to the bar and to the front. Near the back, there was a smaller table by the windows. They would be in the corner, granting them a semblance of privacy.
"Was it a Dothraki ceremony?" He didn't know very much about her early years before her dragons were born. This was the first he had heard of her being pregnant at all. "After you finish that, you can eat anything."
She'd never really played before. Certainly not like this, and never with a lover. There might've been some playful moments between she and Drogo, or even Daario, but there were other things to focus on. Responsibilities, duties. The same would undoubtedly arise for them here, as well, but it's so far from her mind as she claims him like this.
And soon he's having her smear the letters of her name, and she's looking up at him mock-reproachfully.
"You smudged the 'E'." So, encouraged by the rocking of his hips and his touches, she leans down between them to lick the E off his chest. The first swipe of her tongue is experimental along the puckered skin of his scar. Then, assuming he doesn't react poorly, she'll lick at the paint and his scar with surer flicks, her lips pressing sucking kisses as she laps the paint away.
And soon he's having her smear the letters of her name, and she's looking up at him mock-reproachfully.
"You smudged the 'E'." So, encouraged by the rocking of his hips and his touches, she leans down between them to lick the E off his chest. The first swipe of her tongue is experimental along the puckered skin of his scar. Then, assuming he doesn't react poorly, she'll lick at the paint and his scar with surer flicks, her lips pressing sucking kisses as she laps the paint away.
The first time she had toyed with his scars, he had been frenzied and mad from lust. He had thought his reaction was because of that, but the brush of her tongue and the feeling of her breath against his torso made him shiver. Eyes shut for a moment as the image of daggers is replaced by lips. What was a cold and sharp memory ebbed away in the face of her tenderness.
He doesn't move to stop her or discourage her from what she's doing. This felt like a revelation. He had been ashamed of what happened, but the more she toyed with him and explored his scars, the more he found he liked this. His hips rock up again, this time less playful and more needy for friction.
He held her still for a moment, lifting her chin so he could smear a dab of crimson paint along her lips. He wanted the colors to mix, for the blue of his scars and torso be joined with the red of her mouth.
He doesn't move to stop her or discourage her from what she's doing. This felt like a revelation. He had been ashamed of what happened, but the more she toyed with him and explored his scars, the more he found he liked this. His hips rock up again, this time less playful and more needy for friction.
He held her still for a moment, lifting her chin so he could smear a dab of crimson paint along her lips. He wanted the colors to mix, for the blue of his scars and torso be joined with the red of her mouth.
"Not meat. Other things." Could food even grow in snow? It was so cold, it seems impossible imagining anything surviving, save the trees on the ground.
She slips inside, smiling up at him as she passes, dragging her palm along his stomach. Inside is dark, but it's dark outside save the fires burning along the streets. Inside, the first holds more of an intimacy, and it's far quieter than expected. Likely because there are so few in here.
Once settled, she considers the space around them before twisting to face him, tucking a leg beneath her bottom. It allows her to lean closer to him, to keep the conversation private.
"Mn, yes. A khaleesi is expected to consume the hrazef zhor whilst the Dosh Khaleen interpret the omens." The table is tacky beneath her palm, so she rests her palms on her lap. "If she's not sickened by it, and eats it all, the Dothraki believe the unborn child will be strong."
She slips inside, smiling up at him as she passes, dragging her palm along his stomach. Inside is dark, but it's dark outside save the fires burning along the streets. Inside, the first holds more of an intimacy, and it's far quieter than expected. Likely because there are so few in here.
Once settled, she considers the space around them before twisting to face him, tucking a leg beneath her bottom. It allows her to lean closer to him, to keep the conversation private.
"Mn, yes. A khaleesi is expected to consume the hrazef zhor whilst the Dosh Khaleen interpret the omens." The table is tacky beneath her palm, so she rests her palms on her lap. "If she's not sickened by it, and eats it all, the Dothraki believe the unborn child will be strong."
"No, there wasn't anything else, not beyond the Wall." They might have vegetables at Castle Black, but life didn't grow once you passed into the wilds of the far north. That was the realm of the dead. "There wasn't wood to burn or anything else. We had to dig frozen shit out of the snow and use that for our fires."
He leaned closer to her, letting his voice drop into a murmur. The bartender noticed them, but was still in the middle of helping someone else. They had a few more minutes of privacy before someone would interrupt. His hand covered her, his thumb caressing her fingers, savoring the softness of her skin. It wasn't rough or harsh from cold climates, but speaking of warmth and comfort.
His smile spread, trying to imagine her devouring the heart as other women chanted around her. There was always a power and strength that exuded from Daenerys, but the image seemed like fire made flesh. No other queen would be willing to go that far, accepting her people's ways and embracing their beliefs. It's what made her far better than Cersei or any other ruler he had seen.
"What did the omens say about your child?" It's asked hesitantly, uncertain whether the memory would be painful for her or not. "Is that when you won their respect?"
He leaned closer to her, letting his voice drop into a murmur. The bartender noticed them, but was still in the middle of helping someone else. They had a few more minutes of privacy before someone would interrupt. His hand covered her, his thumb caressing her fingers, savoring the softness of her skin. It wasn't rough or harsh from cold climates, but speaking of warmth and comfort.
His smile spread, trying to imagine her devouring the heart as other women chanted around her. There was always a power and strength that exuded from Daenerys, but the image seemed like fire made flesh. No other queen would be willing to go that far, accepting her people's ways and embracing their beliefs. It's what made her far better than Cersei or any other ruler he had seen.
"What did the omens say about your child?" It's asked hesitantly, uncertain whether the memory would be painful for her or not. "Is that when you won their respect?"
There's already blue smeared on her lips. Smudged along his chest as well, her name illegible, ruined, but the claim still present. By the time he lifts her chin, it's become less about proving a point, and more about placing kisses and licks against his skin, encouraging more of those rocks.
His fingers smudge more paint, but this time, it's mixing red with blue. It must look ridiculous. She likely looks maddened, kiss-swollen lips a mix of color.
But instead of returning to his chest, she's leaning in to kiss him. One arm hooks around his neck to pull them close. Her free hand, still covered in paint, catches his cheek, fingers scratching against the fine hairline behind his ear. The first kiss is intentionally messy, more a smear of lips and paint, but then she's tilting her head, slanting her mouth against his to deepen it.
His fingers smudge more paint, but this time, it's mixing red with blue. It must look ridiculous. She likely looks maddened, kiss-swollen lips a mix of color.
But instead of returning to his chest, she's leaning in to kiss him. One arm hooks around his neck to pull them close. Her free hand, still covered in paint, catches his cheek, fingers scratching against the fine hairline behind his ear. The first kiss is intentionally messy, more a smear of lips and paint, but then she's tilting her head, slanting her mouth against his to deepen it.
The colors are smeared, trailing across his skin until they are lost in the depths of the water. The steam creates beads of sweat, making the paint seem as though it were weeping across his torso. There were splotches of red from his fingers, where he held her firmly and moved to pull her closer.
His mouth responds to her, nipping and sucking on her lower lip. She looked well loved and ravished, her hair loose from her braids and her skin flushed. Water splashed around them, disturbed by his frantic hips, seeking more and more stimulation.
Nails drag over the planes of her back, catching against her shoulder blades. Finally, he leans in to drag his tongue along her neckline, licking what remained of the paint he had first put on her, when he tested the game and what they were to do.
His mouth responds to her, nipping and sucking on her lower lip. She looked well loved and ravished, her hair loose from her braids and her skin flushed. Water splashed around them, disturbed by his frantic hips, seeking more and more stimulation.
Nails drag over the planes of her back, catching against her shoulder blades. Finally, he leans in to drag his tongue along her neckline, licking what remained of the paint he had first put on her, when he tested the game and what they were to do.
That's disgusting. Her look all but announces that. Didn't matter if she'd seen the things she saw, innards and blood and fecal matter splashing onto a battlefield the Dothraki and Unsullied claimed as theirs. Burning it?
"And I thought the desert was unbearable..."
Glancing down at their hands, she turns hers from beneath his, to link their fingers together.
"I never did with some of them." Some of the levity fades from her eyes; she looks away, toward the bar. "He was to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World."
"And I thought the desert was unbearable..."
Glancing down at their hands, she turns hers from beneath his, to link their fingers together.
"I never did with some of them." Some of the levity fades from her eyes; she looks away, toward the bar. "He was to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World."
More and more stimulation... it's easily returned in kind as she rolls her hips in time with his, grinding their pelvises together in a deliciously maddening way. Her time on the boat was still so recent in memory, but this... this is nothing like that. Is that because Jon missed her so? Or because they've both grown so desperate for one another?
It must be desperation, the way she responds to him. Arching her back against his touch. Tilting her head so he can focus on her neck. Neither slows her down--she's focused on the feel of him against her cunt. Even drags her fingers against his scars, gentle touches which smear sweat and paint.
"Gods, Jon."
It must be desperation, the way she responds to him. Arching her back against his touch. Tilting her head so he can focus on her neck. Neither slows her down--she's focused on the feel of him against her cunt. Even drags her fingers against his scars, gentle touches which smear sweat and paint.
"Gods, Jon."
I know. [He pointed ahead to Ghost, who trotted ahead of them cheerful and relaxed.] My wolf has a sense of people. He wouldn't be this friendly if he thought you were a threat.
[He would have attacked, but instead he didn't seem to notice Vlad's presence.]
The housing is just up ahead. You might have a roommate?
[He would have attacked, but instead he didn't seem to notice Vlad's presence.]
The housing is just up ahead. You might have a roommate?
The smile seems to be enough, as well as the shy disposition. While the guard wasn't as charmed as he might normally have been, he was placated enough to give a rough nod and step aside from the gate. There was a muttered insult, something about "outsider", but put into crude terms. Jon quickly ushered Wanda through, bristling at the insult to her.
Once they were through, he stopped to glance back towards the now closed gate. "Let me take you to the housing that's been provided? You will be able to stay there for a few days until you find a job and a way to earn coin. You should keep the cloak on for now. You're wearing Wyver colors and Olympians are hostile to that kingdom. It might cause more trouble."
Once they were through, he stopped to glance back towards the now closed gate. "Let me take you to the housing that's been provided? You will be able to stay there for a few days until you find a job and a way to earn coin. You should keep the cloak on for now. You're wearing Wyver colors and Olympians are hostile to that kingdom. It might cause more trouble."
"But they weren't dead?" He's lost and it shows. He didn't know exactly what questions would make things more clear. Instead, he will have to accept her explanation. It was obvious at least which man she preferred.
"Business purposes?" That's said with a hint of amusement. He knew the business men had in brothels. Theon had gone to them regularly, sometimes bragging about the women he had. Robb hadn't really bothered and Jon had tried once, only to flee before anything happened.
"Do you know the boy's mother?" Part of him had wondered if Catelyn had ever heard who his mother was. It seemed unlikely, given how little Ned spoke of her, if ever at all. It was a secret, even from those he loved. "I'm sorry for him. Being raised as a bastard is painful for a child." The attention and scorn was too much for someone young, introducing them to hostility before they came to know tenderness.
"Business purposes?" That's said with a hint of amusement. He knew the business men had in brothels. Theon had gone to them regularly, sometimes bragging about the women he had. Robb hadn't really bothered and Jon had tried once, only to flee before anything happened.
"Do you know the boy's mother?" Part of him had wondered if Catelyn had ever heard who his mother was. It seemed unlikely, given how little Ned spoke of her, if ever at all. It was a secret, even from those he loved. "I'm sorry for him. Being raised as a bastard is painful for a child." The attention and scorn was too much for someone young, introducing them to hostility before they came to know tenderness.
He takes a sharp breath at her exclamation, losing his rhythm as he frantically rocks up again. He had never thought of himself as a lustful person. There had only been one other woman in his life, all other attempts had been brushed off and ignored. He hadn't needed sex in his life.
But now, just the feel of her was enough for him to feel desperate to be inside her again. Her kisses were an oasis for a parched man, his heart having been left dry and barren for years. Now, emotion surged through him, far too deep and powerful to be controlled. He didn't see any reason to fight her or it, he needed this and he needed her.
"Dany," he whispered her name roughly, angling himself so he could begin pressing past her folds.
But now, just the feel of her was enough for him to feel desperate to be inside her again. Her kisses were an oasis for a parched man, his heart having been left dry and barren for years. Now, emotion surged through him, far too deep and powerful to be controlled. He didn't see any reason to fight her or it, he needed this and he needed her.
"Dany," he whispered her name roughly, angling himself so he could begin pressing past her folds.
He laughs at her look. Even traveling with a Dothraki horde hadn't prepared her for the harsh realities beyond the Wall. "The smell is worse than you think. The air is cold and dry, so you smell everything. It gets into the food as well."
It was almost like comparing war stories. The two of them sharing their rough experiences, alone and surrounded by a wilderness most other Westerosi hadn't or couldn't imagine.
But quickly his smile fell, realizing that he was stepping into painful territory. "We could speak of something else, if you like?" Something to bring back her smiles and amusement.
It was almost like comparing war stories. The two of them sharing their rough experiences, alone and surrounded by a wilderness most other Westerosi hadn't or couldn't imagine.
But quickly his smile fell, realizing that he was stepping into painful territory. "We could speak of something else, if you like?" Something to bring back her smiles and amusement.
[He'd noticed the large beast, but had not tied it to belonging to Jon. A raise of his brow in answer, and he looked at the wolf with a newfound interest.]
A wolf? Mm, I would not likely find myself attacked by a wolf. Still, it is good to know that I do not... bother his senses.
[The mention of a roommate, however...]
That may not be for the best. I am-- I am happy to take a smaller place if it is solitary. Anyone who may need to bunk with me might find it unsettling.
[And he'd been so long without a companion, he had no notion of how a body so close to him might affect him when he slept.]
A wolf? Mm, I would not likely find myself attacked by a wolf. Still, it is good to know that I do not... bother his senses.
[The mention of a roommate, however...]
That may not be for the best. I am-- I am happy to take a smaller place if it is solitary. Anyone who may need to bunk with me might find it unsettling.
[And he'd been so long without a companion, he had no notion of how a body so close to him might affect him when he slept.]
His questions seem to confuse her and this is her twisted marriage story. At least she can laugh, awkwardly. "Not when I thought they were. Though Frank is dead now--or... was. He's in stasis. I found him there not too long ago." So, technically, both her husbands are still alive. Good lord.
There's no need for Claire to defend Jamie in this. She never liked his business in brothels, but Prince Charles was a fan of conducting his discussions there. Though, considering how her husband later came to live in a brothel, she's not so sure some of Charles didn't rub off on him.
"No, I never met Willie's mother. She died giving birth to him, but I did meet his adoptive father." Lord John Grey. A curious man, quite fond of Jamie, and while that gave her pause, she knows he's a good man. Jamie wouldn't trust Willie to anyone less.
Knowing Jon is speaking from personal experience, she moves to take his arm and give him a little bump with her shoulder. She knows.
"If I ever do get the chance to meet him, I will most certainly keep you in mind. I would be glad for Jamie to have a son that's anything like you. If my husband came home with a Jon Snow, I'd be a lucky woman."
There's no need for Claire to defend Jamie in this. She never liked his business in brothels, but Prince Charles was a fan of conducting his discussions there. Though, considering how her husband later came to live in a brothel, she's not so sure some of Charles didn't rub off on him.
"No, I never met Willie's mother. She died giving birth to him, but I did meet his adoptive father." Lord John Grey. A curious man, quite fond of Jamie, and while that gave her pause, she knows he's a good man. Jamie wouldn't trust Willie to anyone less.
Knowing Jon is speaking from personal experience, she moves to take his arm and give him a little bump with her shoulder. She knows.
"If I ever do get the chance to meet him, I will most certainly keep you in mind. I would be glad for Jamie to have a son that's anything like you. If my husband came home with a Jon Snow, I'd be a lucky woman."
Wanda manages to keep a mostly neutral expression. It's still a tiny improvement. She's been called a lot worse and at least no one's disputing her basic humanity. But they still haven't seen what she can do yet. Time will tell if either city is as open-minded as the Natha claimed.
She can handle having to hide some of her abilities. She can take the namecalling. But having to hide something as personal as her colors - this is what finally makes her bristle in indignation. "They're my colors. I don't have anything else." But as upset as it makes her, Wanda knows better than to take the cloak off and blow her cover as his 'sister' this soon after being allowed in. "You are sure there will still be housing after all of this?"
She can handle having to hide some of her abilities. She can take the namecalling. But having to hide something as personal as her colors - this is what finally makes her bristle in indignation. "They're my colors. I don't have anything else." But as upset as it makes her, Wanda knows better than to take the cloak off and blow her cover as his 'sister' this soon after being allowed in. "You are sure there will still be housing after all of this?"
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