Chapter Seven: Perfect Denial
A/N: Hey everyone, thanks so much for all your support as usual! I would love it if you checked out my other Game of Thrones stories, Poison & Wine and Shades of War, or even some of my original stuff - which you can find a link to on my profile. I also have a video for this story, on my profile as well, if you haven't seen it yet.
Robb's eighteenth name-day was mere days away, and preparations for the event were being undertaken all around Winterfell. Mella had known parties before, but they had always been in King's Landing. She had despised them. They had always involved court gossip, small talk and drinks. She had felt suffocated by them, but like many other matters in the north, no doubt Robb's name-day celebrations would be different.
However today was different, not only because of the preparations for Robb's name-day, but also because Tyrion Lannister had arrived in Winterfell, venturing south from the Wall, along with a man from the Night's Watch. Mella couldn't help but feel childishly excited at the prospect of seeing a member of her family again. She and Tyrion had always gotten along grandly. But upon entering the hall, she found that the atmosphere was thick with tension.
"I must say, I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit," Tyrion said dryly as he stood at the foot of the high table at which Robb Stark sat. There was a distinctly unimpressed expression about the boy's face, and that coupled with the cold aura washing off him made Tyrion feel very unwelcome indeed.
Robb ignored Tyrion's words, instead turning his attention on Yoren, a recruiter for the Night's Watch who was on his way south to get some more men from the dungeons at King's Landing. Mella dearly wished she could go with him, back to her family – but she also knew what her father had wanted, and she would stay in Winterfell as long as he saw fit.
"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell."
Tyrion frowned. "Any man of the Night's Watch but not I, eh boy?"
"I'm not your boy, Lannister," Robb replied, and glancing at him, Mella could see the harsh coldness of winter reflected in his blue eyes. She wished to speak aloud, but knew that if she wanted to talk to Tyrion, she would have to wait until all the frosty formalities were over. "I'm lord of Winterfell while my father is away."
"Then you might learn a lord's courtesy," Tyrion replied with equal stiffness, causing Robb to clench his jaw. Before anything could interest, Mella quickly clambered to her feet and offered Robb an apologetic smile.
"Is it alright if I speak with my uncle alone for a moment?"
Robb's blue gaze never softened, and she knew that despite the closeness that had begun to develop between them, he still knew that her mother's family were enemies. He nodded curtly and Mella descended the stairs, wrapping her cloaks firmly around her and wandering out in the chilly morning air. Tyrion followed at a waddle, closing the door behind him and turning to face his niece.
"The north does not seem to agree with you, dear Mella."
"Nor with you." She couldn't help but smile, but it was forced at best. "You should be careful, uncle. They found...they found a dagger. There was an attempt on Bran's life, while he was still asleep. I think that Robb believes you are responsible."
"My dagger?" Tyrion raked a hand through his hair, eyes widening slightly. He understood the implications just as well as Mella. "I wouldn't be fool enough to give any assassin my own blade. Does he take me for an idiot?"
Mella glanced around. She knew that if she was caught talking to Tyrion about this matter, the consequences could be severe. However, she thought that her uncle deserved to know about the allegations that could be made against him.
"No, he takes you for a murderer."
"Why would I want Bran dead?" Tyrion demanded. "He's a ten-year-old boy. What harm could he possibly do me?"
Mella shook her head. That, she didn't know. While she didn't think Tyrion was to blame for what had befallen Bran, that wasn't to say she believed the rest of her family was innocent. Her own mother was known for doing whatever needed to be quietly done to ensure her own preservation...yet if the Queen was responsible in some way, what exactly was she trying to preserve? A shiver ran down Mella's spine, one that had nothing to do with the frigid cold of Winterfell.
"I wish I knew what this was all about," she murmured, more to herself than Tyrion.
Mella had been reluctant to bid Tyrion farewell, but she knew that hostilities were high between him and Robb, and knew that he would prefer to stay at an inn rather than intrude as a guest of Winterfell. She had been sad to say goodbye, as it felt like she was permanently losing everyone she cared about. As soon as Tyrion left, Robb came to visit her, and she knew what he would ask.
"What were you and Tyrion talking about?" He inquired, folding his arms. His blue eyes held no warmth and she knew that Tyrion's presence had brought his enmity against the Lannisters back into focus – but Mella was no Lannister. She was a Baratheon, her father's daughter. Did he think she had been involved in the attempt on Bran's life as well?
"Nothing insidious," Mella replied rather curtly. She hated how suddenly things had changed once more. Robb had been her friend, yet now he treated her as though she was little more than a stranger to him. "Robb, why are you so suspicious of me?"
"I want to know what you spoke of," Robb said slowly, his words clearly enunciated, and Mella knew that she had to lie. She should be good at it, for her mother was always telling lies. Mella didn't like to.
"I asked how the Wall was." She dropped her eyes. "I asked him to tell my parents that I miss them."
Robb hesitated and when Mella looked up through her lashes, she could see pity across his face. No doubt he understood, for he must miss his father and sisters, too. She felt a sting of guilt for lying to him.
"Oh. I...I didn't mean – I didn't intend to intrude on personal matters."
"How is Bran?" Mella inquired, hastily changing the subject to one that wouldn't make her insides tighten and squirm in discomfort. "Is he...faring any better? There is truly no sign of him recovering?"
"He will never regain the use of his legs," Robb said heavily. Mella bit her lip and reached a tentative hand towards him, but he flinched as though her nails were blades trying to pierce his flesh. Mella bit her lip hard. His rejection hurt, but she could understand that he bore many burdens, and he didn't wish the comfort of a Lannister's daughter.
"How could you be so stupid?" Cersei demanded the moment Jaime had entered her rooms and she had carefully closed the door. Robert was busy with his whores and his drink, so she had little to fear when it came to the possibility of him finding them together – although tonight, sex was perhaps the last thing on Cersei's mind.
"Calm down," Jaime insisted, a frown crossing his face.
"He's a child, ten years old," Cersei snapped, fiddling with her hands – a habit Jaime had observed for many years, one which only cropped up when she was nervous. He knew what it was like to have a child of ten years – he had one himself, even if that boy was not legitimate. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking of us," Jaime replied in a rather bored drawl, "You're a little late to start complaining about it now." He seemed to consider for a moment. "What has the boy told them?"
"Nothing," Cersei murmured, although to her that was little consolation. "He's said nothing, he remembers nothing."
Jaime shook his head and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Then what are you raving about?"
"What if it comes back to him?" It had been nagging at the back of Cersei's mind, a constant fear, a paranoia. "If he tells his father what he saw?"
"We'll say he was lying, we'll say he was dreaming." Jaime threw up his hands. He loved Cersei, but honestly, seven hells sometimes her suspicions started to prick at his patience. "We'll say whatever we like. I think we can outfox a ten-year-old."
Cersei's expression remained troubled. It wasn't just Bran talking to his parents that she worried about. Her darling Mella was up there in the north. If it became clear that Jaime and Cersei had acted against the Starks, she could be killed or used as a hostage against them. It was a possibility that horrified Cersei, but also one that haunted her dreams. Mella might be her only legitimate child by Robert, but she loved her nonetheless.
"And my husband?" Cersei inquired, her thoughts drifting unwillingly to Robert.
"I'll go to war with him if I have to," Jaime replied, his eyes conveying seriousness before they lit up with amusement moments later. "They can write a ballad about us. The war for Cersei's cunt."
Infuriated, Cersei slapped him. She wouldn't be spoken to like that by anyone, not even her twin brother. Jaime laughed, clearly still finding all of this to be a huge joke. She tried to hit him again but he caught her wrist and spun her around so that her back was pressed to his chest and his arms were tight around her.
"Let me go," Cersei insisted, struggling against him. The only problem was that in truth, she didn't want him to. "Let me go."
"The boy won't talk, and if he does, I'll kill him." Jaime hissed in her ear, sending tingles running up her spine. "Him, Ned Stark, the King, the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left in this world."
"What about Mella?" Cersei asked. She had surrendered for a moment, just one, but then she remembered herself. She tore free of Jaime's grasp and spun around to face him. Of course, Mella was only Jaime's niece, not his daughter, so no doubt he hadn't even considered her. "What about my oldest child? She is up there in the frigid north, and if those Starks learn about what we have done..."
"Robert's child, you mean," Jaime scoffed, causing Cersei's temper to flare once more.
"She is my daughter," she snarled, hands clenching into fists. "I won't see her become something for the Starks to threaten or bargain with if things don't go our way. It was Robert's decision to leave her there, not mine. I want her home."
"The King does what he likes," Jaime replied enigmatically, his voice becoming rather cold at the mention of Robert. It was clear that despite being a member of the Kingsguard, Jaime had little to no respect for the King. He also knew that there was not a chance in the seven hells that Cersei could convince Robert to let her bring Mella home, if what the King really wanted was to keep her in Winterfell.
Alyss had wanted to braid Mella's hair into sections, but she had immediately gone against the idea. For tonight, she wanted her dark hair flowing all around her. She felt mischievous and daring, like any other normal sixteen-year-old, and she wondered what the rest of her family would say if they could see her now. No doubt her father would roar with laughter while her mother frowned in disapproval. Mella felt a pang of homesickness. How she missed her father.
Tonight she wore a dress that was the deep emerald green of her mother's eyes, but that was perhaps the only dignified thing about the dress. It came half-way down her arms, leaving her shoulders and much of her neck exposed. The dress even showed some amount of cleavage, which Mella found herself smirking at. Cersei would no doubt have a fit if she saw how her daughter was dressed.
A string of emeralds have been looped around her throat and her arms jingled with thin gold bracelets. The mask she wore was a great golden lion, the sigil of her mother's house. It was encrusted with tiny emeralds and the only thing recognizable about Mella were the grey eyes that stared back at her in the mirror. Alyss and Imelda stared at their princess in shock as she turned to face them.
"That dress is very outrageous, my lady..."
"You're showing a lot of bare skin..."
Mella refrained from rolling her eyes. Honestly, the way they behaved, anyone would almost think she was attending the celebration naked! She cared nothing for civilities and playing her part tonight. Most people wouldn't even know that they were looking upon a princess of Westeros when they saw her. She had the mask to thank for that. A stag would have been obvious, but a lion was another matter entirely.
She wondered what the others – Robb and Theon in particular – would say if she went up to them, told them who she was. Would they be shocked at her choice of dress, or approving? Well, knowing Theon, most likely the latter...but the others were another question entirely. Mella smiled tightly at the wide eyes of Alyss and Imelda.
"I'm ready, ladies."