SUMMARY: In the name of protection, Myrcella Baratheon had lived her entire life in the cages that her family had placed upon her; her freedom was nonexistent. So when she finally got the opportunity to break away, her father placed Robb Stark of Stark Securities as her new bodyguard without her knowledge, and that very same night she was attacked by a demon on the way home. The young Baratheon heiress finds herself once again placed under constant supervision and with the Christmas just around the corner, Myrcella was sure that her one chance at freedom had gone up in smoke. For everyone in the city knows that on the winter solstice the barrier between the spirit world and reality was at its weakest.
Ned turned to watch Robb double check to make sure he had enough clips before he holstered his gun. If the Young Wolf was nervous, he didn't show it. His face was as placid as a frozen lake in winter. "Son, let me tell you what my father told me before my first assignment: Never let your client out of your sight. Never let your guard down. And never fall in love with your client."
Robb met his father's gaze evenly as he slipped on his suit jacket letting the words filter in and engrave themselves in his mind. There were two personas he had one in which he was "Robb Stark", the eldest son of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully. His family was the most important thing to him and he would do whatever was possible to keep them safe. Even make the tough decisions that no one wanted to take responsibility for: the ones that would haunt the person long after the decision was made, that crept up in the darkness and reared its head behind closed eyes.
The second persona was the "Young Wolf". It was a mask he created that helped him cope with the decisions that left a mar on his very soul. It helped him perfect his job as a bodyguard by allowing him to look through a logical point, emotions ceased to matter, and the instinct to survive became his cornerstone. His client becomes an extension of himself. Any threat toward his client, was a threat to himself. In this manner of thinking Robb does not let his client out of his sight and never lowers his guard. Falling in love was never issue nor a risk because it simply was not a factor that mattered to him when he was the Young Wolf.
They say the eyes was a window to one's soul, but as Ned gazed into his son's a chill went down his spine and worry clawed at his stomach. The Young Wolf was ready. "Robb," He placed his hand on his shoulder. "Jon will be on standby in case you need back up."
"That won't be necessary."
"I hope not." He knew Robb was more than capable of doing this job for Robert Baratheon and yet the feeling that something was coming haunted him. Ned knew he had a right to be worried, winter solstice was right around the corner. Even Benjen commented about the increase of demon activity on the Wall that had the Night's Watch preparing for the worse. "Winter is coming and more than ever we must be on guard."
The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Robb thought as he nodded in understanding. For a moment he let the mask fall as he placed his hand on over his father's and gave it a comfort squeeze. "I won't fail you."
"I don't think that is possible."
Robb watched from a distance as his client laughed at something one of her friends said. Her head was thrown back, her neck arched in the air revealing alabaster skin that begged to have lips caress it, and her laughter was melodious as it traveled through the air toward him. As if taunting him as it made him feel anything other than indifference. It demanded his attention, cracking into his mask and angering him. Never had a client gotten under his skin and she wasn't even trying.
Her sun kissed hair glowed under the lampposts as she walked under the light they offered with her friends. A beacon in the dark of night, a target to be snatched and he knew his job had just gotten infinitely harder. Robb felt it in the air; the sudden drop in temperature and the hair on the back of his neck rose and saw it in the fog that slipped passed his lips when he exhaled. His heart pounded harder and faster against his ribs as adrenaline coursed through his veins and he knew they were no longer alone.
His gaze zeroed in on the dark figure that slid out of the alley a few feet in front of Myrcella and her friends. His feet slammed against the cement covering the distance between him and his client. A threat against my client is a threat against me. A growl rumbled from deep inside his chest as a gasp escaped her when a claw reached for her throat. Robb slid right into the space between the demon and Myrcella, his left palm slammed against the wrist of the claw that had reached for her, his right curled into a fist as he brought it forward against the Dark Walker's jaw. A sickening crunch echoed into the night.
The demon howled in pain as it stumbled back a few feet, out of the light the lamppost provided and into the shadows of the alley, it took a moment to compose it's self, it's breathing was heavy and distorted to the ear- almost as if it was crazed by disease or rather, a wild blood thirsty animal.
Myrcella could practically hear the rapid beats of her friends' hearts as they all took a step back, creating space between themselves and the stranger who had jumped between herself and the ghoulish man who had reached for her neck. She had yet to see his face but from his physique Myrcella could only assume he was powerful, his shoulders were broad with lean muscle, his legs long and if that punch was anything to go by, his arms strong. His hair, from what she could tell from the dim lighting, was a copper-like red, not bright yet not dark enough to be considered crimson like the color of the dresses her mother favored so much.
A snarl ripped her from her thoughts. Her nameless savior's body tensed, and he took a cautious step back. A figure stepped from the shadows then and Myrcella held a hand to her mouth in fear at what she saw. Her friends screamed from behind her, all of them turning to run for their lives but Myrcella stayed put. Red eyes stared her down as he-no it- approached. It's mouth was comparable to that of a Shark's, thousands of sharp knife-like teeth and soulless eyes that she is sure will haunt her dreams forevermore.
"Get back, Myrcella." She didn't stop to wonder how he knew her name, her body only obeyed his demand. She slowly inched away from them both, the monster only getting closer, a grin across it's face as it neared. Myrcella wondered if it could smell her fear.
In one quick movement the thing howled in rage as something was thrown into his chest. It pulled the dagger from it's abdomen, making a show of bending it in it's grasp before it let it fall to the ground with aclang. Before she could blink, the demon pounced on her red headed savior, a startled cry escaped from her lips as they both toppled onto the ground, the sound of growls filling the night air.
The growl was soon replaced with a yelp as with a strong, well placed kick to the chest, the monster was sent flying back into the brick covering of a building. Robb stood up and quickly sprang into action not allowing the demon a second of recovery before he slit the monster's throat with his sword. Blood sprayed from his wound, coating Robb in it's blood, and the demon clutched at his throat as if somehow hoping to pacify the bleeding.
With one final swing of his sword the demon ceased to be and it's demonic head rolled until it met the end of Robb's black boots.
Myrcella watched the head carefully, it's eyes were still wide open and she half excepted it to blink at her or give her it's monstrous grin. After a moment had passed and she was sure no such thing was going to happen, she lifted her eyes to the man who had done the beheading.
She was startled to see he had been staring at her, a(n) intent look in his blue eyes. She could now see his face and behind the blood that was speckled across his cheeks and forehead, she realized he was actually quite handsome.
He reminded her of the fairy tales her uncle Renly used to tell her, when her father was to busy with the matters uncle Stannis was always presenting to him, of handsome heroes who came to rescue beautiful damsel(s) in distress; stories filled with dragons and fairies and witches. All children stories really and although she was now much too old to be believing in such nonsense, she could not help but picture this man in armor, riding valiantly into battle.
Something is so familiar about him…
"Who are you?" Her voice was quieter than she would have liked and she could hear her mother's voice in her head. Show strength, Myrcella. Never fear.
He took a step towards her, his sword still in hand and Myrcella unconsciously took one back. He stopped in his tracks, a frown formed on his lips as he sensed her discomfort. He slowly placed his sword back in it's place at it's hip, he wiped his now free hand on his pants before holding it to her.
"My name is Robb Stark," He paused,gathering what he wanted to say before continuing. "I'm here to protect you, Myrcella."
Myrcella blinked.
He knows my name.
She stared down at his outstretched hand, bewildered. When she did not shake his hand, he lowered it back to his side. His hands might have been clean but his sleeves were still stained with blood.
"I don't understand."
Do I want to understand?
She lowered her gaze, her wide green eyes falling upon the corpse which lay between them. The head and those terrible teeth might have been gone, but the worst of it remained. She wanted to kick it away or to run as her friends had done, but she couldn't move. She was stuck, frozen in her place. Its blood was still warm as it seeped into the snow. The sight of it made her stomach churn uneasily, her lunch threatening to make a sudden reappearance.
"It's… a long story."
His eyes, which were so very blue, met hers the moment she looked up from the still corpse. She thought she saw the corner of his lip twitch, a hint at a buried sense of humour. Her eyes narrowed a fraction in a combination of suspicion and bewilderment. She didn't see what was so amusing. It was almost Christmas. She had things to do and people to see. She did not have time for handsome strangers and headless bodies.
"Well…" She said, reaching down to gingerly pick up her handbag. She silently prayed that it hadn't got blood on it. It would make explaining her day a difficult task, indeed. "It's been – interesting, to say the least. I'll be going now."
Robb, with one hand still resting on the hilt of his sword, moved to block her path as she made to step around the body. She clucked her tongue in annoyance, telling herself she should have known it would be unlikely for her to escape that easily. When she moved again, he shadowed her movements. This time he stepped closer, his arm bumping against hers. A little unnerved by their sudden closeness, Myrcella narrowed her eyes and pushed against his chest with the palm of her hand. "Do I know you? Have we met before? If the answer is no, then step aside and leave me alone."
He seemed awfully familiar, but Myrcella wouldn't let herself dwell on that thought. Just as she refused to glance up into those blue, blue eyes once more.
"I'm here to protect you." He repeated – unhelpfully, she might add.
With a small, irritated sigh, Myrcella took several steps back and turned around on her heel. After a beat, she heard him follow. She made about two steps before his fingers wrapped around her wrist. "I understand that you have questions, I do, but right now we need to get to safety. There are more where that one came from."
Myrcella paused, glancing at him sharply.
"More?" She asked in a tight voice, bristling, and Robb nodded at once. His grip on her wrist tightened slightly, and ordinarily she would have snatched it from his grasp, but she sensed that the action was derived out of a strange form of comfort. "Why?"
"This is not the place." He said. The way his eyes kept flickering around them, wary and watching, made her nervous. Suddenly she was the one who was shifting closer, feeling both afraid and oddly safe with this apparent stranger. "Do you have somewhere where we can go? I'll answer your questions then, when I know you are safe."
She searched her mind, frantic. She couldn't go home. Tommen and her mother would be there and if there was any chance whatsoever of whatever she had just seen repeating itself, she would not allow for it to happen anywhere near her mother and brother. Joffrey was at home too, for Christmas, leaving his apartment empty. But the thought of being in her brother's cave-like flat was not appealing, just as visiting one of her father's townhouses wasn't tempting either. They were for 'work', he said, but she knew better. But she had no choice it seemed, it was either Joffrey's or her married father's bachelor pads. "I – I suppose I know a place. My brother's. It's not far from here."
"How far?" Robb asked, his eyes continuing to look around them in an increasingly worryingly way. He had her looking over her shoulder too, checking for monsters and demons and whatever the hell it was which had attacked her. She could still feel the sting of whatever it was around her neck. There would be a mark there, something which she was not sure she would be able to explain.
"That building over there." She said, pointing. "It's just around the corner -"
Without waiting for her to finish or for further explanation, Robb slung his around over her shoulder and urged her to hurry on. She stumbled slightly, surprised. As they walked, at a pace which asked too much of her heels, she caught a glimpse of their reflection in a shop window. To anyone passing by, they might have looked like a couple.
Moving at Robb's pace, the walk to Joffrey's was nothing at all. It seemed to take longer for the elevator to reach the top floor than it had taken for them to walk the four blocks there. The elevator music did nothing for her nerves, and neither did Robb, who stood silently beside her loading a gun with odd coloured bullets. He caught her looking at her as the elevator came to a stop at Joffrey's penthouse apartment and she looked away, rolling her eyes, but with an obvious redness to her cheeks.
When the elevator doors sprung open with a shrill ding, they stepped out together. She fiddled around in her purse, knowing she had a key somewhere. Her mother had insisted that they all have a key in case of an emergency. Joffrey hadn't been happy about that, that was for sure. She handed Robb the key once she found it, giving her time to step back and assess the situation. She was inviting a stranger into her brother's apartment to answer questions about the person he had decapitated…
It was a first, if nothing else.
Except, he didn't feel like a stranger, did he?
"I remember you." She found herself saying. Robb looked at her over his shoulder as he pushed the door open, Joffrey's dark apartment coming into view behind him.
Robb's small, albeit slightly confused smile was cut short by a banging sound from within Joffrey's apartment. They both stopped short, her hand seeking out his.
They weren't alone.
"I remember you" he was about to ask her where from, could she really remember him? The only time they had met she wasn't even ten yet, a little doll of a girl with a blond mess of curls giggling with her little brother on a picnic his father had arranged. They hadn't even spoken properly to each other, just enough to be polite. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, and though he knew it was safer to keep his distance from her, the idea of her remembering him stirred something in him.
He didn't get much time to think about it though. As soon as the door was closed, a sound from within the apartment brought back the young wolf, getting ready for another fight. He didn't have time to think of her hand in his, only pulling her to stand behind him. The sound was getting louder, heavy footsteps coming their way, he pulled out his sword and waited. He could see it in the end of the dark hallway, a shadow taller and wider than him, but he didn't flinch. He would protect his client with his life, there was no doubt about it. He lifted the sword and brought it down in a strong fast movement, roaring as he did so.
"Seven Hells!" His blade hit the side of a door frame as the shadow stumbled back with a curse. That gave him pause, he had never seen a demon curse, sometimes they'd speak but never like this. "Who's there?!" He demanded, freeing his sword from the wood at pointing it at the stranger's chest. "Who's there?" there was no mistaking the irony in the husky voice "HA! I think I should be the one asking that when you're the one breaking in!" The lights flickered on and he was taken aback by the man on the floor. He was indeed big, looking like the stereotype of a mean biker, the ugly scar across half of his head only making it worse.
He was about to argue with him when Myrcella moved, kneeling down beside the mean looking biker "Don't hurt him, he's a friend! Sandor I'm so, so sorry! Are you okay? Do you need help?" He couldn't believe it, how was a girl like her friends with a guy like him? "It's alright little princess, your boyfriend here isn't as good as he thinks" he noticed her blush as she explained "he's not my boyfriend, he's…a friend…" The big guy rolled his eyes, clearly not believing her but not arguing either "I take it your brother doesn't know you're bringing friends to his apartment does he?" She stared at him wide eyed, opening her mouth to say something but he waved her off "Don't worry girl, I'm just poking fun at you. I know you never come here, Hells I practically live here" he gave a deep chuckle, getting up and dusting off his jeans.
"Sandor please don't tell Joff I was here, please!" She looked so small beside him that it was almost comical. He gestured for her to calm down and follow him as he led them to the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge before leaning against the counter to face them. "Now" he started, taking a long swing from the bottle before he continued "Why don't you two start explaining what you're doing here, who your friend is and why he's covered in blood?"
"I was about to ask the same questions," Cella said, turning to glare at Robb (not too aggressively, mind).
But as she passed her eyes over him, her gaze caught on his wrist, where an elegant tattooed wolf-head was peeking from his sleeve.
"Stark," she breathed, remembering a black-haired man who smiled rarely- but when he did, it was like the first snowdrop sprouting in spring, "You're Ned's son!"
"Y…yes," Robb murmured.
"You're Stark's lad?" Sandor cut in, "Then that explains…"- he waved his hand at Robb- "This."
"What?" argued Myrcella, "What does that explain?"
"I'm a… a…"
"He's an angel," cut in Sandor, smirking.
"Yes, and I was sent by my father to protect you," Robb continued, moving to plant a broad hand firmly on her shoulder, "There are bad things coming for you, Myrcella, more evil than you can imagine."
"What can be more evil than me, I'm already a demon," she muttered, and Sandor stood, but Robb caught her eye, not letting her past his sharp angel hearing.
"I'll be going then," said Sandor, glancing at his phone for the time, "I won't tell Joff you're here, princess."
Cella half-smiled at the nickname from her childhood, when her mother had insisted that she was the rightful Queen of Hell and had insisted the staff use her title accordingly (although even Cersei Lannister had not wanted to live in that wasteland, where nightmares danced in the corner of your eye).
"Thanks, Sandor," she said, standing to let him out. Once they were out of earshot of Robb, Sandor grasped her arm.
"Stay safe, princess," he whispered, "Remember that it ain't all black and white: hell ain't all bad and heaven ain't all good."
And with that, he was gone.
Cella put the kettle on, and for some time she just sat opposite Robb in silence whilst he checked his weapons.
She glanced at Robb, wondering if he shared any features with his late aunt. She had been stolen by the Prince of Hell, swept away in the night: but Cella couldn't help wondering if she had struggled or if she had been content to cling to Rhaegar Targaryen's neck, eager for excitement or rebellion- or maybe just someone who loved her. It wasn't so hard to change sides. It wasn't so hard to fall.
At that moment, Robb looked up.
"So, you know about demons then?"
Myrcella nodded, staring at one spot of demon blood that the man in front of her had missed on the side of his neck, just under the curve of his jaw, a few inches beneath his ear. The spot was constantly reminding her that the events of the evening had actually transpired, thus making all of this not some twisted nightmare.
It was hard not to know about demons and angels; as if they were bedtime stories, she grown up on the history of her family and those families whose lives were directly effected by her family's actions. Often times, Myrcella found herself wondering if maybe she was living a fairy-tale, all those fantastical stories that were too unbelievable to have actually come pass in the real world. But then she would remember the scars that were left behind as a result of those wars.
And those scars were very much real.
She tore her eyes from Ned's son to see the slew of weapons on the table and she couldn't help but wonder if the Starks ever regretted befriending the Baratheons, with everything that happened to them as a result of that bond. 'That's nothing more than wistful hopes.'
And, with the impending danger that seemed to be closing in on them, they did not have the luxury to think about what-ifs…
"– so I don't have to tell you why it's imperative that you listen to me when I'm actually giving you valuable information that would most likely save your life if you were attacked!" Robb's voice was slightly tinged with irritation as Myrcella snapped back to the conversation at hand.
This caused the young Baratheon to look slightly ashamed but only for a moment before her Lannister pride rear itself in the form of a sneer. "Well, it wouldn't matter, now would it, considering that's what you're here for, isn't it?"
Robb grounded his teeth together as he tried to calm his growing temper. "It is true that I will be protecting you from now on as vigilantly as I possible can, but there will be times where I won't be with you. I'm sure you would prefer some sense of privacy."
"Oh, I get a choice now? And here I thought I was only allowed to accept your presence-"
"I'm doing this for your safety! Your father had entrusted me to keep you-"
"What does my father have to do with any of this?"
Robb heaved a great sigh before he looked up to lock eyes with her, "Do you want the long version or the short version?"
"The shortest version." Myrcella replied tersely.
Robb nodded before choosing his words carefully. Finally he started with, "Long ago-"
"I said the shortest."
The man across from her rolled his eyes before saying, "You need some background to understand his motives."
"He's a father! What other motives could he have?"
Robb shook his head, his eyes were clouded with worry. "You can't possibly understand how deep this runs. Without knowledge of the history – the wars – that had taken place and who was on the winning side and, perhaps more importantly, who was on the loosing side, there isno way you could begin understand how vital it is that you stay alive. If anything were to happen to you, the very fabric of the three dimensions could be ripped apart. Your father understands this. As much as he wants to keep you safe because he is your father, he also understands that if you were to get hurt or taken, this could be a declaration of war."
Myrcella got up and walked over towards the cabinet that held the cups and it wasn't until she picked up a mug that she realized how badly her hands were shaking. "I don't know… a successful attack or not… tonight felt like a declaration of war already."
She turned back to see Robb's expression and knew that she was right.
