The Wolf and the Rose / Sequel to The Queen in the North

Thirty

Thirty

El had forgotten the bliss that came with sitting in Garlan's company. His gentle ora was enough to pacify her raging anxieties. Neither of them spoke, as neither needed to. Just sitting opposite him with the light weight of his glaze on her was more calming than any words ever could be. There was something in words that was never sincere enough to satisfy Elonar. Even words spoken in candour were never justified. When Garlan had said he loved her, she hadn't believed him. Words were easy, but harsh feelings were hard.

In truth, the moment she realised that she loved him was so vivid she could never forget it. She had loved the feel of him near her, and she had appreciated when he'd whisper those words in midnight hours with his lips pressed to her neck. But she hadn't felt that overwhelming sense of love herself until she knew he really loved her. It was that night she sat on his lap in the great hall in Winterfell. The night after they lost their first child, they'd sat there all night with the only sound being their tears. El remembered how the light of a single brasier had lit up the entire hall, the orange flames danced into flickering oblivion as they slowly wilted into ashen grey charted logs. Holding his head against her chest while tears flowed from her eyes was when she knew that his words were sincere. They had to be, why else would a grown man of his size be clutching her so tightly and sobbing like a child. Especially when Garlan had the bizarre notion that their sons death had somehow been because of him.

They sat in silence watching the stars out on the balcony while El considered Garlan's words. He truly possessed true wisdom that could never be leant she concluded. El rested her head on his shoulder, "I truly am sorry." She whispered as her lip quivered like a child's.

"What for?" Garlan asked as his fiddled idly with her fingers. He was so good and she wasn't. El could never be like him, she was selfish and rash. She would never be enough for him, and she would always let him down like this.

"I don't deserve you, I really really don't." She said shaking her hand free from his gentle grasp. "You have every right to be angry with me and gods you should be! After everything I put you through, you should be fuming."

Garlan inhaled a deep breath and took her face in his hands, "I love you. And that's why I'm not." Gods he was perfect. In moments like this El couldn't fault him, which in situations like this made her feel even worse about herself. He was sat there in the moonlight with the light from inside illuminating his well-sculpted features. Angular jaw, with stubble growing back thickly around his cheeks. He'd shaved it, and started regrowing it when he knew she'd be back soon. Because El always preferred him with a beard. It made him look rougher, and older for that matter. His golden eyes  looked brown in the darkness as they looked at her with warm intent.

"Remember-" he soothed lifting her chin, "its you and me bringing everyone together. We have to make us work if we want everything else to work out. I mean you've brought your men here and mine are intent on causing havoc so you and I need to be united."

"I feel we've the only ones who want this to work." El sighed.

"So what if we are?" He shrugged. "You and me Stark-"

El rolled her eyes and half smiled for the first time all evening, "I've gotten you into this mess."

"Exactly so you'll be the one helping me out of it." Garlan smiled. That was true enough, El had talked him into making a claim to the throne and getting him to ignore his summons to meet Daenerys. But Cersei Lannister had to be stopped. reports from the capital stated she is growing closer to the mad king than anyone could have imagined. She truly was an evil woman, once who had never been satisfied with  any amount of power. Though now, the power had most certainly gone to that head of hers.