Chapter 11
Gods there is so much to do.
Though he was young, many would say that Robb Stark had adjusted rather well to the reality of being a king. When he had been declared as such by his banner men, he had been reluctant to take on a role that he hadn't been sure he could fulfill.
Being a king meant far more responsibility than simply being the Lord of Winterfell. When the Trident had been added to his kingdom after he had liberated Riverrun his own proclaimed realm had swelled to far larger than he wanted or needed.
And he had been failing at it in some ways. If he had communicated clearly to his uncle that his forces should not attempt to engage with Gregor Clegane then perhaps the Lannister forces would have been detained in the Riverlands long enough to not have time to return to King's Landing and defeat Stannis Baratheon.
He had been angry with his uncle, but he had also been angry with himself for failing to see that the Riverlords would want revenge against Clegane for all the havoc he had wreaked in their lands.
As a result the lions had been in time to defend the throne which had led to the continue problem of how to defeat them.
And now his northern host and his river lords were all looking to him to lead, to make decisions that would win them the war and take vengeance from the Lannisters and finally lay his father to rest.
Justice…
Vengeance…
Retribution….
Power….
Everyone wanted something, including him and he had to figure out how all of their desires coincided.
At least things had been going well lately. The news about the Iron Fleet attacking all along the western half of Westeros was both concerning and surprising. Robb had been enraged to hear that the western half of the north was under attack from a man who wanted revenge from his father for the war that had taken place years ago but sacking the empty keeps along the coast was alarming enough.
Theon had wanted to take a reserve forced back to the north and send his father's army running but Robb had sharply forbid him. He had already dangled his friend in Balon Greyjoy's face and he didn't trust what the man might do to him now when Theon came to meet him on the opposite side of the war.
No, as much as he hated it, the Ironborn would have to wait.
He had been further surprised to learn that those same Ironborn had attacked Lannisport when Theon had returned with news that his father had refused the crown that had been offered.
What had led to the change of heart then?
Given the fact that Casterly Rock and the surrounding land was ripe with wealth and currently unoccupied by the Lannisters, it would be insane not to seize the jewel that it presented.
And it seemed Balon Greyjoy had thrown off the slough of idiocy that had surrounded him for all these years of plotting and muttering on the Seastone chair and finally ordered the production of something well…productive.
It didn't mean that he wasn't pleased to hear it…but the change of heart was concerning to Robb.
He didn't want to have to fight the Ironborn, as well as the Lannisters.
Now that Stannis Baratheon's army had been defeated and sent running from the capital, there were still three more kings playing the game. The longer this war dragged on, the antsier Robb became and the more eager he was to emerge the victor.
It all gave the appearance that the sack of the Westerlands was over and the lions were on the run not only to defend the crown, but at the same time to defend their own seat.
Things couldn't have been going better.
And then he had been sidelined with the knowledge that the woman he was slowly beginning to care, the woman who had such a fire in her pale green eyes that it prompted the quickening of his own heart, the woman who seemed to have a cure or a salve for every wound imaginable, the woman who wasn't afraid to tell him to his face when he was doing something wrong despite the fact that he was a king, that woman….had lied to him.
Her name was no more Talisa than his was Eddard.
Instead he had learned that her name was Melara…Melara Frey, the girl whom his mother had betrothed him to along with the greedy advice and gloating of Walder Frey in return for using their thrice damned bridge.
He had barely remembered the girl he was supposed to wed in order to obtain the support of the Lord of Crossing since they had begun sacking the Westerlands. He wasn't eager to marry someone he had never met before and who may or may not have had some of her father's less then desirable tendencies but he had agreed that for the sake of the war, it would have to be done.
It wasn't until he had met and spent time with Lady Talisa that he had begun to wonder whether or not a mistake had been made.
She was fiery, possessed grey principles and wasn't afraid to use her biting tongue and pushy personality to get where she wanted to go in life.
And apparently where she had wanted to go was here.
But he couldn't help but wonder how she had done it. Walder Frey didn't seem the type of man to let the future Queen in the North go out of his sight for more than a few hours and yet here she was for weeks.
How had she done it?
No, there was more going on here than just her brothers and Robb had a mind to storm over there and find out what it was.
It wasn't as if he was angry per se…more frustrated, confused and a little bewildered. What game was she playing when she had come?
Robb wondered for a moment whether or not she had come here to have a look at him, see what person she would be marrying and whether or not she liked what she saw.
But he couldn't even have been angry about that either because he would have wanted to do the same bloody thing!
She had been right when they had spoken earlier and she had said that as a woman no one really took her opinion seriously and he could imagine that being no truer than in the Twins.
His mother had told him that when she had stopped at the Twins to come to the agreement with Walder Frey that the man had a personality that made her skin crawl and she couldn't wait to leave.
At that moment he wondered what sort of woman he would be marrying if the man's daughter was anything like Old Walder.
Robb knew that a marriage would have been arranged for him regardless of whether or not his father had died and he was still the heir to Winterfell. But he had had his parents' marriage to look at as an example for his entire life and while their marriage had been arranged, they had grown to love each other.
Was it so bad that that was something he wanted as well? He had hoped to be able to love his wife at some point and build a future in the north with her. Being betrothed to some daughter of the Lord of the Crossing was not what he had intended nor perhaps even wanted but here it was and it was happening.
And so he had resigned himself to that knowledge, told himself that whatever daughter he was to marry could not have been as bad Walder Frey and then he had hoped…and hoped….and hoped.
And then Lady Talisa had come along and blown whatever notions about quiet ladylike women he had had right out of the water with her tongue that was as sharp as steel and eyes that snapped at him instead of looking demurely at her feet like her sister Sansa would have done.
He couldn't deny that she was stunning but what made her even more appealing was the fact that she was so willing to help people and that she didn't care who they were, Stark or Lannister, man or woman, boy or girl. No one was beneath her notice or unworthy of her attention.
And he liked that….he liked that a lot.
So Robb found himself wanting to spend more time with her. He liked her sarcasm and her dry sense of humor, the fact that she could stare at a wound and laugh, making light enough of the situation that others felt as if they were going to be alright.
That was something that was needed when a war was being fought.
The more he got to know her, the more the knowledge of his own betrothal began to weigh on him and he wished his mother hadn't agreed to that contract and he was still free to marry the woman of his own choosing.
And as those thoughts had come to mind there was only the face of one woman who immediately followed them.
Bah! He hated this. He hated being confused and he hated being deceived. And both had happened.
But deep down, perhaps there was a hint of relief as well. Talisa and Melara were the same person. He would be marrying the woman he wanted and fulfilling the terms of the contract that his mother and Walder Frey had put in place.
Everyone was a winner in this situation. He would have the continued support of the Freys and he would be marrying the woman that he truly desired as opposed to some doe eyed stranger that was either as manipulative as her father or else wouldn't speak any louder than the whisper of the wind.
And yet he was still frustrated.
"Robb you have been pacing for the last half of an hour," Catelyn observed from her seat by the table in his tent. His mother's hands were on folded across her swelled stomach and Robb eyed her with concern.
Her time would be any week now and he knew he was taking a big risk bringing her any closer to the capital.
So he had decided he wasn't going to do it. Instead of leaving her in the keep of one of the former Lannister bannermen that he had captured, perhaps it was time to send her to Riverrun.
In fact, perhaps it was time for all of them to return to Riverrun. He would consolidate all of his forces along with his uncle's riverlords and once the armies were combined they could begin to march on King's Landing.
Robb paused for a moment to consider the matter of the wildfire used on Stannis Baratheon's forces in the battle of Blackwater for a moment. He couldn't be sure that the Imp didn't have another trick like that up his sleeve so he would need to be careful.
He had no desire to waste men's lives needlessly on trying to open one of the gates and having the Lannister forces rain arrows down upon their heads, picking them off one by one.
There had to be another way to do this. For the moment, the Lannisters were distracted by the krakens raiding Lannisport and he needed to seize the moment.
If only there was some way to be in two places at once, he thought to himself as he paced back and forth.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing."
Robb glanced up and gave his mother a look that was half amused half irritated. "Unfortunately this is all I know to do right now."
"No it isn't," Catelyn Stark replied absently rubbing her belly. "You could go speak to her so you are not pacing like a caged direwolf."
Robb's only response was to let out a frustrated growl. Melara was not the sole reason for his discontent but at the same time he was having trouble processing the secrecy all the same.
Catelyn persisted. "I don't agree with what she has done, but it seems as if she has done it for a reason. And if she has inherited anything of Walder Frey abominable tendencies it is an unswerving devotion to family."
"Are you taking her side?" Robb asked.
"I am on no one's side my love, I am on the side of your happiness," Catelyn replied patiently and for a moment Robb wished he hadn't told her of Melara's confession.
Perhaps having outside opinions hadn't been such a good idea.
"I have seen you since her arrival and the way that the grimness has faded from your countenance somewhat. There is a slight spring in your step as well. I knew as soon as you told me about her after Oxcross that you were intrigued by her and wished to know more and I worried that if you were to ever see her again it might tempt you into doing something that you shouldn't. And then low and behold she showed up at the Crag again. I was alarmed when I learned that you asked her to stay among our army and act as a healer as I feared you would seek her out. And you did. That was when I knew I had to know her better and began to speak with her. She is a sharp young woman and she has an even sharper tongue. She was not overawed by the fact that you are a king and she gave the appearance of being low born. You never knew anything more than her first name and yet you were intrigued enough to continue getting to know her. She helped heal Sansa and your sister appears to have found a friend in her. I can see why your affection for her would have grown after that. And my worries only grew.
"But then after you sought her out one final time and she made her confession to you causing this pent up amount of energy. You don't seem angry, but you don't seem happy, merely frustrated. So what may I ask is going through your mind?"
Robb paused, surprised and annoyed that his mother had been able to pick up so much from him. He had had a million things to think of in the last few weeks and Talisa…Melara had only been one of them.
"I haven't decided how I feel yet mother," he said and Grey Wind who had been watching him whined loudly, sensing his unease. "After I got over the shock of the truth, a part of me began to wonder how on earth she came to be here. If this is Walder Frey's prize daughter whom he is intending to make the Queen in the North, wouldn't it suggest that he wouldn't let her out of his sight for fear of something happening to her? I don't think that that is possible. So how is she here?"
"That is something that you are going to have to ask her," Catelyn said calmly. "I cannot answer that."
Robb let out another frustrated growl and resumed his pacing. If he were to examine himself very closely he knew that he was relieved. However he was also a little worried that she had taken so long to tell him the truth. She had been here for weeks and had spoken with him numerous times on varying things and yet she had kept silent.
What sort of game was she playing hiding herself from me? He wondered. Was she afraid I would send her back to the Twins if I knew who she was? No…Lady Talisa….Melara doesn't seem to be the sort of woman that would allow anyone to tell her what to do and that would include me. She wanted to be here for a reason and she stayed for a reason. I suppose I am a little worried that I will be marrying a woman who is inherently deceitful.
The thought that this might be true was disappointing and alarming to him and he ground his teeth together.
"Robb?"
The young king started and looked up to see his mother looking at him with concern. He sighed and waved off the worry with his hand. "I'm fine mother. There is far too much to focus on right now. There is a war to win."
Catelyn didn't appear happy with his decision but she nodded. "Very well. I do think it odd that the Tyrells have not joined the Lannisters in power. Olenna Tyrell has always been an ambitious woman and from what I have heard of Margaery Tyrell, she has always desired to be a queen just like your sister. Why they have not taken the opportunity to wed her to Joffrey seeing as how he is no longer betrothed to Sansa?"
"Because Willas Tyrell is not so much of a fool," Robb replied. "Given the information that Stannis Baratheon was able to leak to the rest of the realm after Father's death, the parentage of the royal children all across the Seven Kingdoms is being called into question. While Mace Tyrell would have seized the opportunity to give his daughter to that little shit Joffrey, Willas Tyrell strikes me as a shrewder individual. Also the trouble that Tywin Lannister has been facing both in the Riverlands and from the Greyjoys lend credence to the fact that the war is going badly for the lions. I don't think either Lord Willas or Lady Olenna would want to align themselves with the losing side by giving their prize daughter to a boy king who needs to have others fight his war for him."
"Do you think they will ally with us then?" Catelyn asked and her tone turned hopeful.
Robb cast a concerned eye over at his mother who was still rubbing her stomach. He could see how anxious she was for this war to be over and to return to Winterfell and he worried about her. Perhaps it was time to send her back to Riverrun while he carried on the campaign. She had been obstinately stubborn about staying with him through it all and for the life of him he did not know why.
"Perhaps," he said absently. "And if they do not I have a plan to ensure their support."
"You do?" Catelyn asked.
"Aye. I will pen a letter myself to Lady Olenna offering a marriage contract between House Stark and House Tyrell. Namely I will pursue the idea of wedding Sansa to Lord Willas."
"Are you certain of this?" Catelyn asked, her eyes wide. "Sansa has already been through enough and we still have no idea where Arya is. Do you think she will want to marry the Lord of Highgarden."
"I will speak to her," Robb promised. "The support of the Tyrells is key to winning this war and I cannot marry Lady Margaery in order to fulfill this. But they will receive a new Lady of Highgarden, something they may not be able to contest."
"I hope your optimism is warranted Robb," Catelyn said. "Your sister may not wish to marry so soon after all that has happened to her."
"Mother if there is anyone who would want to see the downfall of the Lannisters more than I do, it is Sansa. She more than anyone else suffered the most at Joffrey's hands and if marrying Willas Tyrell is the way to ensure that that bastard never harms another living soul I think she will be all for the idea."
It was hard to explain how he was so certain that his younger sister would take to the idea, but somehow Robb had a feeling deep in his gut that not only would Sansa agree to the idea of this marriage but that she would be happier for it. He had heard that Willas Tyrell was a kind man and far more capable than his father. And it would strengthen his claims as king if he had the Warden of the South backing him.
"I am certain mother," he said calmly. "Now I should speak to Sansa and then I have a letter to write."
Ω
In the meantime, Melara was having a hard time not being on edge.
Since she and Robb had parted some hours earlier, she had gone back to her tent, seen a few soldiers and done her best to keep herself busy and not think about the conversation that she knew was coming.
In that time, she had a feeling he was going to demand answers on how she was here, the deeper meaning behind the reason she had given him and whether or not her father was aware of her presence in the Stark army.
Although she had a feeling that he would already know the answer to that last question.
Her confession of the truth would not only complicate things from here on out with her future husband but the idea of telling him an even more important truth was becoming more and more inevitable.
Her magic was going to come to light sooner or later and she had been battling how to tell him since they had begun getting to know each other better. He deserved to know and if Sansa had taken it as well as she had, then what were the chances his reaction would be the same?
Still thinking in terms of her old house, Melara knew she had to expect the worst but at the same time hope for the vest. She knew Robb would react better to the knowledge of her magic than say her father would have but at the same time, that wasn't much to go on.
I'll need to return to the Twins soon and get some more ingredients if I'm going to continue making potions, she thought to herself.
As always when she wasn't sure what to do with herself, Melara resorted to potion making. It had been a habit that she had constantly indulged in when she was Pansy Parkinson, especially when something was upsetting. Gods she must have brewed enough to fill an apothecary when her parents informed her that they were switching sides in the war.
And now the fact that she was on edge was only adding to the desire to brew. But instead of making more moonstone potion, the brunette decided to try something somewhat difficult.
This time she was making Veritaserum.
It had been a challenging endeavor when she had had all the right ingredients but Melara was determined to try as a truth potion was always a necessary thing in the war.
Draco had never let her forget that Veritaserum and Felix Felicis were potions that she had had trouble brewing and the brunette had hated him for it more than she had liked him.
However, he wasn't here now so she wasn't going to listen to his nonsense even in her head and attempt to do it this time as it was more necessary now that it had been in the war against Voldemort.
Veritaserum was clear colorless and odorless and was indistinguishable from water which made it quite easy to slip in any drink without anyone noticing.
There were only a few slight problems when brewing it and Melara remembered her somewhat greasy professor telling her that if she wished to make it correctly, the potion must mature for the lunar phase which took a while and made it slightly more difficult to produce.
But I have a feeling we're going to need it to use on certain people by the end of the war, she thought grimly to herself as she stared at her cauldron.
Fortunately she had some of the ingredients now.
One of the ingredients that she didn't have however was vial of Ptolemy which she did not have and would need to supplement with something else.
As a result the potion would likely not be as strong as the true version but it would possess enough of the necessary ingredients to make people want to know the truth without knowing why or how to lie. She doubted it would be able to force them to tell the truth but it might make them want to.
She did have powdered moonstone but she would need to find an adder in order to cut off its tongue.
For a moment Melara wondered with a smirk what the Muggles around her would think if they knew she was putting the tongue of a snake in a potion she was making in order to help them.
Grey areas….grey areas everywhere.
She didn't know where on earth she was going to obtain Jobberknoll feathers though. I very much doubt that if such a bird even exists in this world it would have the same name. But maybe there's a bird that's similar. Or….perhaps I could use weirwood leaves as a supplement. They are known to be a mysteriously and mythically magical substance. Maybe they would work.
The last ingredient was sopophorous beans and she also didn't know how she was going to get her hands on those.
But perhaps there was an apothecary nearby that she would be able to visit to obtain something similar.
After that it was simply a matter of taking the potion off the fire, stirring it and waiting for it to mature and then bottling it, which was the longest and most annoying part of the process.
Melara had just retrieved one of the vials of moonstones that she had crushed into powder to be used in other potions when she was interrupted.
There was the sound of footsteps outside of her tent and Melara glanced up to hear the sound of her brother's voice.
"Come!" she barked and when Perwyn strode in he raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Are you well sister?"
"I'm not sure yet," she replied as she held the vial of powdered moonstone up to the light. "I'm just assessing whether or not this needs to be crushed more."
Perwyn frowned and then sat down across from her. "How can you tell that?"
Melara uncorked the vial and poured a portion of the silvery white powder into her hand before bringing it close to his face. "The powder has to be as fine as snow with no distinguishable marks, blemishes or bumps in it. And as you can see from the few larger than normal bristles here that it needs to be ground a bit more."
Perwyn nodded but Melara got the feeling that her eldest brother didn't understand it at all. She smiled and poured the powder into the small wooden mortar she had taken from the Twins before inserting the pestle and beginning to grind.
Perwyn was silent for a moment as he watched her do this before clearing his throat. "I had been meaning to talk to you about something."
"If you are going to remind me of my obligation to tell Robb Stark the truth than there is no need," Melara said absently. "I already have."
"You have?"
She could see the tension visibly deflate from Wyn then and she frowned at him. "Yes, I told him earlier this morning."
"How did he take it?" Her brother asked.
Melara frowned at a clump of moonstone that for whatever reason was not grinding. "It's difficult to say. We haven't spoken since."
"Was he angry?" Wyn asked.
Melara sighed. "I don't really know. He seemed….shocked, confused. And there was a grim…intent behind his eyes, an intent to have every facet of the truth no matter how strange or unorthodox it was."
"You're going to tell him of your magic aren't you?" Wyn asked and she gave him a small smile. "I've dug myself in deep Wyn. I don't think I'm going to accomplish anymore by lying."
"No," her brother replied. "No you won't. But I am glad that you're now in the clear with him all the same. Robb Stark is a good man and it seems to be the sort of quality you need."
Melara raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if she should be offended at that. "What do you mean?"
Perwyn chuckled. "You have many wonderful qualities sweet sister but at the same time you have always been a little…rough around the edges, quick tempered and blunt.
And while that is something that is sometimes necessary, sometimes there is a need for temperament."
"Wyn, I'm not following you," Melara said somewhat impatiently as she eyed the moonstone powder with more intensity than was necessary.
"And that's exactly what I mean," her brother said forcing her to look up at him with narrowed jade eyes. "The way I think of you dear sister is like a sharp blade that is used to great effect and is very efficient. But there is always a time when it could be sharper. You and Robb Stark appear to be polar opposites and some part of me is certain that that will serve you well when you are married."
"You seem to be a fount of wisdom today Wyn," Melara said with a slight smile.
"I do have my moments," her older brother said with a smile. "Not all Freys are like father."
A dark look passed over his face but disappeared as quickly as it came and Melara narrowed her eyes slightly.
She knew Wyn disliked the way their father ran the Twins and liked even less the person he had become, but as one of the many sons of House Frey there wasn't much he could do about it unless all of the people who were born before him were suddenly wiped out.
And that was as likely to happen as the return of the Others.
"He's not going to be here forever," she said calmly to her brother.
"No," Perwyn said. "But the rest of his rabble before us will. And they are all the same as Father."
Something in his voice made the brunette look up at him and narrow her eyes. Not only did Wyn dislike their father with a passion, but she also knew he disliked much of the family that did occupy the Twins. She also knew he didn't trust anyone beyond her and the rest of their brothers and Roslin.
Living at the Crossing you had to know who to trust and Wyn had only chosen the members who shared Bethany Rosby's blood.
Melara also knew he wanted to see the Twins become better than what their father had made it out to be. Wyn wanted power, but at the same time he didn't want it at the risk of his own family like old Walder did.
Her brother had a vision for the Twins that made Melara believe he would be a great lord someday if he was ever given his own keep or took one for himself.
"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do after the way?" she asked and he blinked at her. "Do you mean after we dispose of the Lannisters, hang their bones out on the walls of King's Landing for the crows to feast on and take back the north and the Riverlands for our own?"
Melara stared at him and then chuckled. "Aye, I suppose there's a lot there isn't there?"
"There is," Wyn said giving her a fond smile. "But it doesn't mean that I haven't thought of what I'll do if I survive."
"Don't say things like that!" Melara snapped at him.
Wyn raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? We can believe all we want that we're going to win but war is a thing of chances and it doesn't matter who has the most well thought out strategy, something can always happen which renders the strategy null."
Melara let a growl slip from between her teeth. "Over my dead body you'll be dying. In fact I may as well cast some protections on your armor in before we leave."
"I don't want you to exhaust yourself," Wyn said gently. "We both know what happens when you use too much magic."
"If it means you'll be safe I don't care if I am exhausted for the next ten years!" the brunette all but shouted, causing her brother to reel back in surprise. "My family is all I care about. You are going to survive this war…in fact everyone I care for is going to survive this war, Frey Stark it doesn't matter – "
The realization of what she had just said came over her all at once and the brunette fell silent, inwardly cursing herself and wondering how she could have been so stupid to voice that aloud.
As Pansy, she had had no problem spitting out whatever was on her mind without even thinking about it, but she had learned to temper that as she had grown older and it had all but disappeared as Melara Frey.
Merlin, she still remembered the time when she had been part of Draco Malfoy's posse and they had gone toe to toe with Ron, Potter and Granger.
Even after all this time, the annoying red head was the only one she could call by his first name. But perhaps that had been because she had been going to marry him.
Granger had become a good friend as had Potter, but she would always affectionately refer to them by their last names.
And she had no trouble saying last names now it seemed.
Wyn was giving her a searching look and she knew he had picked up on every word and hidden meaning that she had said.
"Stark?" he asked quietly and Melara remained stubbornly silent. She hated being vulnerable and it was something she had gone out of her way to avoid in her final years of school. Yeah she had acted like a lovesick fool around Draco Malfoy when they were younger but that was because it was expected of her and she didn't know how to handle her emotions. And then she had met someone like Ron who was all emotions all the time and she had had to be the steadying force in their relationship.
Now she was becoming like that emotional twelve year old again.
Merlin, what was happening to her?
"Sister," Wyn said quietly and still she ignored him. This was the last thing she wished to talk about right now and yet it seemed she had given her brother a perfect opportunity to do so.
Wyn sighed and leaned back in his chair before throwing the rest of the wine she had conjured for him straight down his throat and muttered a curse under his breath.
"Alright then."
She looked at him somewhat questioningly but after a moment he swallowed hard and braced his hand against the table, looking for all the world as if he were preparing himself for something.
"You've never struck me as the romantic type Mel," he said finally. "And you obviously don't wish to talk about this so I am going to. You don't need to say anything, you don't need to do anything and as soon as I say my piece, I will leave.
He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "You are the most brittle person I have ever met. You're sarcastic, your blunt with a tinge of pride, you're honest to the point of being rude and you have no problem manipulating people to get your way."
He held up a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to respond indignantly. "Let me finish. None of those are bad things. But you've been operating under those principles for so long that it stuns you to feel anything else than cynicism, sarcastic humor or narrow cunning. Which is why you refuse to talk about anything pertaining to feelings or emotions or anything else of that ilk."
Wyn paused again and rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder you and Roslin are related because romance and emotions are things she loves and things you gag at. Yet somehow you get along. Perhaps that's why you're warming to Stark. You're both polar opposites in every way. The king is honorable to a fault and you are conniving to a fault. He sees the world in a way that can be called black and white, good and evil and you see it in a way that is extremely grey."
"Are you going to get to the damn point Wyn?" Melara demanded. She didn't like when her brother used logic and wisdom to impress a point. The fact that he was talking about her and Robb Stark made this a million times worse as well.
She hated feeling vulnerable and with her barely thought out words, she had just ripped away her own armor to reveal the heart underneath.
"Oh and you're impatient too," Perwyn continued. "About almost everything, while it seems that the king possesses an infinite degree of patience."
"When did you become this introspective?" the brunette demanded.
"When you are the unremembered son in a sea of Freys, watching your family becomes sort of a habit," Wyn told her with a smile.
Melara tried to smile back at him but it came out as more of a grimace. There were many reasons why they disliked being Freys, however if they were going to discuss them they would need a lot more wine than they currently had.
"My point is," Wyn finally continued. "You may not like to be known as someone who cares. But you do and when you do, you do so fiercely. I don't think I've ever seen someone love as fiercely as you do. And that's not a bad thing. You may think it is, but it's not."
"Is that all?" Melara said quietly, staring at the moonstone powder in her hand as if she were daring it to burst into flames. Wyn didn't notice that the hand that was resting on her lap was trembling ever so slightly.
Sensing that she was feeling somewhat vulnerable right now, Wyn set his glass of wine back on the table and got up to leave. Before he exited the tent however, he moved over to her side of the table and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"You don't have to be so strong."
She barely registered the words he whispered into her dark hair before he strode quickly out of the tent.
With a shaking hand, the brunette poured the rest of the moonstone powder back into the bottle and corked it before setting it down on the table.
Determined not to think about what her brother and she had said, she got up and busied herself readying the basket for another trip into the woods.
It was time to return to the Twins and check on her sister and see about the plans and schemes of Walder Frey.
Maybe this time she should just stay there for good.
Ω
She was standing in a circle of large white trees.
There was a sharp scent of earth and cut grass on the wind and she could see the gleam of crimson leaves blowing as a result of the wind.
There was a large rock in the middle of the clearing that was as tall as her waist and like the rest of the trees it was a pure ivory as well.
There was a strange rune carved into it, a rune which she wasn't able to read and didn't want to attempt as it looked quite complicated.
Looking up at the sky, Melara could tell that a storm was coming as the clouds were a thick, fluffy dark grey and appeared to be full of rain.
How the bloody hell did I get here? She wondered to herself in bewilderment in between curses.
The place possessed a nagging familiarity but for the life of the brunette she couldn't put her finger on where she had seen it all before.
Then a rumbling sound met her ears and Melara was certain it wasn't the thunder over head. In a way it was quieter and much more purposeful than thunder which would simply rumble and crash with no rhythm. It was concentrated, subtle.
It was a river.
Frowning to herself, Melara focused herself and began to make her way through the trees towards what she thought might be the source of the sound.
She had no idea why she was doing it, but something was compelling her, driving her forward with her having no idea why.
She just knew she had to go.
The longer that Melara walked the more tired she began to feel even though she was doing nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other.
The trees seemed to be never ending and she was beginning to wonder if she had heard the rumble at all as it appeared to have faded. They all looked the same and for a
moment the beautiful brunette wondered whether or not she had become lost.
Damn it to the Seven Hells! She cursed under her breath, Where the bloody hell am I?
Just then she looked up ahead and blinked in surprise to see a clearing in the trees. She blinked and allowed herself a small smile.
Thank goodness, she was finally going to find her way out of this forest.
But after a few more steps through hurried brambles and reaching thorns that somehow darted across her path, Melara found herself in a clearing with a strange looking white rock in the centre with a rune carved into its face.
She blinked and then a moment later wanted to smack herself upside the head. You went in circles you bloody idiot!
Just then another strange sound reached the brunette's ears and she came to a screeching halt just inside the trees of the clearing.
It was a deep hum very different than the distant sounds of the river which had become very much less since she had set foot back in the clearing. It almost sounded as if a human was humming it.
And another voice which was most certainly human joined it and Melara froze as this voice began to chant in a foreign alien tongue that she had never heard before. The voice was harsh and guttural, sounding almost northern in its intensity.
She had no idea what it was saying but at the same time she seemed to think it spoke of snow and winter and dark times to come.
Unconsciously the Frey girl shivered and looked about as if expecting a monster to come crashing from the underbrush.
When she looked back at the clearing however, she reeled back in surprise to find that it was no longer empty and she was no longer alone.
Instead it was filled with people dressed in long green robes. All of them were taller than she was and they had formed a circle surrounding the strange white rock so she could no longer see it and were swaying slowly back and forth as if they were moving in time with the wind which seemed to be blowing harder.
It suddenly dawned on Melara then that they were the ones doing the chanting.
What the bloody hell is going on here?
She slowly took a step forward, feeling an insane and compelling desire to get closer and know what was going on here.
That was when she saw the trees and came to a screeching halt.
There were faces carved in the trunks of those great white weirwood trees…all of them different but all of them in the exact same place. Everywhere she looked, each tree bore a strange and haunting visage.
And all of those carved eyes were closed.
What is this place?
Melara focused on the long green robes of the people in front of her and began to feel a tickle of memory in the back of her mind.
Why did they look so familiar?
And then she froze up once more when she found that she was sudden focus of a lot of attention.
Cursing herself, Melara hadn't even realized that the chanting had come to a halt and that the clearing had gone eerily quiet as she turned back to them.
And then one of them, the tallest it seemed slowly turned his head in her direction.
Before the words of a spell could leap to her lips, he raised one of his hands and crooked a finger at her.
She couldn't see a face beneath that green hood and that was more unnerving than anything else she could see, chanting aside.
But that was all Melara had time to think about as in the next instant she was being dragged forward.
Come to the Heart Tree. Open your eye.
The strange booming voice was entirely too familiar and as Melara came to a screeching halt before the tall man in the green robes, she remembered with a start that it was the same voice from her previous dream.
But instead of being afraid, and cursing Granger's Gryffindor tendencies for rubbing off on her, Melara stared up into the shadowed and hooded face of the tall man, glaring at him.
"And what the hell do you want?" she demanded. "Who even are you people? And why am I here?"
There was nothing more annoying to her than being ignored and it had driven her crazy when they were still in school and Draco had pretended like she didn't exist. It was part of the reason why it had been so easy for her to give up on him.
Whoever these people were, they seemed to be adept at ignoring people as well.
Instead of answering her sharp questions, the man in green turned and pointed to one of the weirwood trees that was directly across from the strange rock.
Melara looked between him and the tree in confusion. And then she almost reeled back in shock.
The eyes….those strange eyes that were red with sap and always appeared to be watching whoever passed them were now all of a sudden open and staring at her.
Just then the man in green clamped a hand down on her arm and she gave a surprise, attempting to wrench herself free.
It did no good however as he seemed to possess a hideous strength and his grip was like iron.
Melara stared up into his face then, or the place where his face should have been but which she could no longer see and then blinked, her breath catching in her throat.
She could see no other features in the man's face but in the depths of that hood amongst the smoky shadows that concealed his face…she could see red orbs glowing there as well. They were like two crimson coals in his face.
She opened her mouth to cry out, but found she had no voice with which to do so. In fact she couldn't move either as something about the man's grip on her arm prevented her from even twitching a muscle.
Those eyes as red as blazing embers continued to burn in his shadowy face and moment later Melara felt like she herself were burning from the inside out.
All of a sudden her limbs began to feel as heavy as lead and the images around the man in green began to blur.
The burning worsened until it was all she was aware of and the chanting resumed…
Melara came awake with a strangled cry in her bed and found the sheets twisted around her and her hands in fists about them.
Her heart was racing and she could practically feel it trying to force its way out of her chest as she sat there in her small cot.
She was panting too and for a moment her lungs couldn't take in enough air in order to be satisfied and she almost felt as if she were hyperventilating.
Melara closed her eyes and took several deep even breaths. It was a technique she had had to put into practice after the war and Daphne had been killed. There were times for weeks after the final battle had taken place that she would come awake screaming in her bed as she remembered watching her friend's lifeless blue eyes as she had struggled to get to her when she had been slaughtered by one of the gods damned Carrows.
In fact she had often cried herself to sleep many nights in a row, screamed her grief into her pillows and dug her nails so hard into her palms that she had drawn blood.
Much like what Sansa had done.
Perhaps that was how she could understand and empathize with the red head so well. She too had her own ways for dealing with grief, anxiety and anger.
Slowly she slid her legs over the side of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees, leaning down and burying her face in her hands with a groan.
Though the dream had been different this time it had not lost the potency of the first time.
If anything, it had in fact become more vivid, more real and more confusing than the other one.
Those people dressed all in green cloaks and hoods…who had they been and that clearing of weirwood trees that had a face carved in every one of their trunks…what had that been all about?
And just then a different memory from some of her lessons with the master when she was growing up in the Twins came back to her and her breath caught in her throat.
Even though she was of the South, Melara was from the Riverlands and had heard stories about the Isle of Faces.
It was a mysterious place where very few went to and only those who had questions and were brave enough or stupid enough to try journeyed.
Most didn't return.
Melara had heard mutters from her father that Prince Rhaegar had gone there before the tournament at Harrenhal where he had awarded the crown of flowers to Lyanna Stark.
No one knew what he had gone for but Melara knew that whatever it was it couldn't have been good.
Why….in the seven hells….was she dreaming about that place?
And those words….
Come to the Heart Tree….Open your eye….
That message had some hidden deeper meaning in it and Melara knew that it was going to bother her until she figured out what it all meant.
For a moment she was tempted to just get up and leave the tent, apparate back to the Twins and then somehow find a way to get to this mysterious isle without anyone knowing.
And then she wanted to slap herself upside the head for such ridiculous nonsense.
You don't even know how to get to that place! The brunette berated herself. It's in the Riverlands, that's all you know and if what you've read about it being a place of magic is true….then you may have met some people here who are finally your match when it comes to the other aspect of your life. You can't just go running into this!
Melara groaned again and lowered her face into her hands again, trying to get a grip on her confusion.
She had spent most of her early school years being confused when it came to people like Draco Malfoy and the last thing she wanted was to be confused here.
So she had tried not to. She hated her father but the fact that he was a Muggle had little to do with it.
Blood purity hadn't mattered much to her here, hell she had been friends with Granger before she had been thrown into this strange world after all so she could count on the fact that she had changed.
No, she hated Walder Frey because not only did he remind her of Argus Filch the annoying bitter squib that cleaned Hogwarts, but because he seemed to possess a desire to be more than what she knew him to be.
He was no powerful lord or ambitious player in the Game of Thrones like Tywin Lannister. He was in fact a weasel who fondled serving maids and spent far too much time thinking on the imagined slights he had suffered. She hated him because he was an idiot.
In fact he reminded her of all the stereotypes she had ever been told that Muggles were, filthy, rude animals who hated and would try to kill wizards with their weapons if they were given the opportunity.
It's probably a good thing that I didn't meet him in my first life otherwise I wouldn't have been friends with Granger. Walder Frey is the epitome of everything the Dark Lord claimed Muggles to be. Although now that I think of it, the old weasel might have fit in pretty well with the Death Eaters. He would have been willing to kill anyone in order to get to the top. I suppose in some ways this world isn't much different from the one that I left behind.
And then she remembered her dream and she snorted. No, in England they most certainly did not have magical trees with faces carved in their trunks and strange people in green would congregate beneath them to chant in their strange language.
She hoped that she wouldn't keep having that dream, but it wasn't as if it were a series of repeating events. Each dream seemed to be about that place but when she opened her inner eyes it appeared as if the night vision came in sequences.
Merlin only knew what she would see next.
And open her eye?
What on earth did that mean? Shouldn't it have been eyes?
None of this makes sense? Melara thought rubbing her eyes with her fists. But then what the bloody hell does these days?
She was just about to lie back down and attempt to see if she could find sleep again when the sound of large velvety paws on the grass outside of her tent met her ears.
The brunette only had a second to register what it was before a large shaggy head poked its way through the flap of her tent. Melara recognized the large yellow eyes of Grey Wind right away and she sat up as stiff as a board with her back ramrod straight.
Robb wasn't with him but she knew if the wolf was here than his master couldn't be too far behind.
Immediately she got to her feet and summoned her thick robe which was hanging on a hook across the tent. The garment flew through the air and into her outstretched hand.
Melara smirked at the large wolf who took her silence as an invitation and padded forward into the tent so he might sniff the brunette's hand.
"You won't tell anyone what you saw will you?" she asked quietly as she ran her hand lightly over the wolf's shaggy head. "I need to work up to telling a certain someone about that."
She carefully got down on her knees and looked the large creature in the eyes. He appeared very calm and even playful as he leaned her large head into her hand like he was enjoying her touch.
"Everyone thinks you're dangerous but we know better don't we?" she asked softly still staring into the lamp like eyes. "When you want to like someone you will."
"Lady Melara."
The brunette barely controlled her start at the sound of the deep rumbling voice and it was with some reluctance that she looked up from the wolf to the person who had spoken.
Robb Stark was standing in the entrance to the tent watching her with those deep blue eyes of his. His dark hair was mused as if he too had been asleep not long ago though he was fully clothed. Even though he was not wearing armor but leathers he still wore his fur cloak which made him look more imposing.
Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night he appeared as calm and collected as if he had just come from a meeting with his lords.
She hoped that was a good sign.
Oddly enough there were no lines of tension in his handsome face and Melara was certain that there would be no argument.
She hoped.
Slowly she got to her feet, keeping her hand pressed into the fur on the top of Grey Wind's head. Perhaps it was for support or some other thing that she didn't know.
"Your grace," she said just as calmly and noted that his gaze upon her had not faltered.
"May I sit down?" he asked gesturing to the chair that was sitting beside the small table in the middle of the tent.
"Of course," she replied.
Slowly the king walked forward and almost cautiously sank down upon the chair before folding his hands in his lap. She could still feel his gaze on her and gritted her teeth. Ron had never had such an intense stare when he looked at her.
Melara had known he desired her but Robb's gaze was entirely different than her former red headed fiancé. Ron had possessed a goofy uncanny desire to constantly make her laugh and he had had appalling eating habits. He had a towering temper but so did she, it just manifested in different ways.
But with Robb…Melara was beginning to discover there were many things they didn't share in common…and that made her a little worried.
His stubborn honor, to do the right thing because it was the right thing was something she was going to need to work on. Rightness was a good thing, a necessary thing. But there were times when it needed to give way to efficiency and pragmatism.
Not everyone was as honorable as the late Lord Eddard Stark.
"You look pensive," she observed and Robb surprised her slightly by snorting although it sounded more like a laugh. "It seems that there are even more things that require my attention lately."
"No one ever said being a king was simple," Melara observed.
"Nay," he replied. "They did not."
"Have you received any more news?" she asked.
"Too much," the king replied and ran a hand through his dark curls. "Sometimes I feel as if all I do is read and write letters."
"May I ask what you've heard?" Melara asked.
She was surprised when Robb reached inside the folds of his cloak and brought out a piece of parchment before placing it on the table and sliding it over with his fingers to her.
Cautiously the brunette reached over and picked it up. She glanced at the seal for a moment and then blinked in surprise when she noticed the telltale sigil of House Lannister pressed into the parchment.
Frowning she opened the folded paper and scanned the page quickly.
It didn't take her long to reach the most important parts.
Her eyes snapped up to his only to find that he was watching her closely once again. "Tywin Lannister is suing for peace."
It was a statement of fact not a question and Robb nodded before taking up the decanter of wine on the table and filling two goblets that were sitting nearby.
"So it would seem," Robb replied before raising the glass to his lips and taking a long sipped.
Melara eyed her betrothed. "You don't seem pleased. It would seem he might agree to the separation of the North and the Trident from the rest of the realm."
"Perhaps," Robb replied. "Continue reading to the end however."
She did so and then blinked in surprise when she saw that the Old Lion wished to meet to discuss terms and Riverrun seemed to be the place of his choosing.
"This complicates things," she said when she finished.
Robb chuckled darkly and took a long draw on the wine glass. "Aye. There are merits to saying yes and no. My bannermen are weary of this war and the separation of the North and the Trident is something that they wanted. I would no doubt need to return the Kingslayer to the Lannisters and agree to not continue to pursue retribution however."
"Is that something you wish to do?" Melara asked.
Robb's dark blue eyes appeared very deep. "I thought it was, now I am not so sure. Is revenge really a reason to continue to lead men into battle knowing that their death if I refuse will be on my hands? What would my father have done?"
"That's a good question," Melara asked. "But I didn't know your father so I can't answer that."
Robb chuckled darkly again. "All my father ever wanted was peace. He never wanted to leave his lands and go south to serve the king. In the end loyalty was what got him killed. Trying to take the throne so that he might pass it to Stannis Baratheon was what got him killed."
"Are you asking me if you are like your father?"
"Perhaps I am simply asking when enough is enough," her betrothed replied and took another draw from the glass as Melara cautiously sipped her own drink.
Grey Wind was lying between the feet of the young couple and was calmly looking back and forth between them. Absently Melara reached a hand down and scratched behind his ears, eliciting a slight hum of satisfaction from the large creeper.
"I am sending my mother and my sister back to Riverrun regardless," Robb said finally. "My mother's time is fast approaching and if something were to happen now…I won't lose any more family."
"Very well," Melara said. Inwardly she agreed with that choice. She just hoped Lady Catelyn would.
"Will you be returning to the Twins then?" he asked and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly.
"I was not planning on it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Lord Walder does not know you are here then?"
Melara gave a bitter laugh. "The man is barely aware of how many children he has, I doubt he will notice if one of them goes missing."
"How does he not know that you are here?" Robb asked.
"No," she replied.
"How?" he asked. "His daughter is to be the future Queen in the North. Wouldn't it be his business to know about your whereabouts at all times?"
Melara was beginning to become irritated. What sort of game was he playing?
"As I said your grace," she said finally. "My father hardly notices what his children do."
Robb didn't seem inclined to give up on his questions however. "And for that matter, how did you come to be here? There aren't many healers in this army and I feel as if I would notice if there was a woman riding amongst our party."
"I have my ways of passing beneath people's notice your grace."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you always been this secretive? Or has it only been in the last little while since you told me who you really were?"
Melara felt her irritation spike and she swallowed down a sharp retort. "Very well your grace, what would you like me to tell you? That my father cares nothing for his children in light of his legacy? That my chances to help people namely my brothers were so limited in the Twins that I had to find some way of escape? Or perhaps to my father all I am is a glorified trophy and that I needed some sort of escape? I didn't grow up in a family like yours. My father is a man who is ambitious and greedy and as soon as your army needed the use of our bridge my father saw an opportunity to advance the Frey name, namely to marry me off as he has been looking to do since I was three and ten."
She paused here for a moment and took a long draught of the wine. "I was always his gods damn prize. I often told you that women have very little say in their own lives in this land. This was one of the few choices that I did possess. Coming to Oxcross to see my brothers was my only intention. You were certainly not what factored into the decision to go your grace."
They both fell silent after that, the sound of her impassioned words ringing about the tent and in their minds.
Robb had been watching her intently as she spoke and had barely taken his eyes from her since he entered. Finally he sighed.
"I'm not angry," he said finally. "Stunned perhaps and concerned. But I am not angry. In fact I think I am more relieved than anything else."
With those words Melara released a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. She was gladder than she realized that he had taken this so well. And then she frowned. "Relieved? Why would you be relieved?"
Robb's gaze seemed to become even more intense than before and she felt a heat on her skin and something stirred in the pit of her stomach at the almost…hungry look in his eyes.
"Do you not know?" he asked finally and the stir of those rumbled words as they passed over nearly succeeded in causing her to shiver.
She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Merlin…no one…not even Ron had ever looked at her with such raw desire in their eyes and the brunette found the physical side of her responding no matter how many times she told it to shut up. His blue eyes fairly blazed with a strange fire as he looked at her and she felt goosebumps rise on the back of her arms.
Instead of looking at him though she glared down at her hands which were clenched together in order to get out her next words.
"I….I had wondered," she said finally and cursed herself for the words came out sounding slightly broken. "But I didn't hope because I knew I would need to tell you the truth first."
Robb had an uncanny way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were the only person in existence. It was a quality about him that was remarkably appealing.
She looked up at him then and was shocked to see a sort of relief enter his eyes as well, like he had been hoping she would say those words.
Melara could feel the heat begin to rise in her again and thanked Merlin that she had only lit one candle in the tent which had been charmed to burn while she was still asleep but not run down. This way he wouldn't be able to see her as well or the pink color that was no doubt in her cheeks nor the desire that she was certain was in her own eyes.
"It seems we are in agreement then," Robb said somewhat softly a small smile on his lips and Melara took a deep breath. "We are."
"If that is the case than perhaps you should return to the Twins before your father does realize you missing," Robb suggested. "I certainly hope you will be able to account for the weeks of travel to him upon your return. I would hate to have to deal harshly with one of my sworn lords for harming you."
There was warmth in his voice but also deadly promise and Melara thrilled a little at the fact that perhaps this secret would not be the cause of a set back in their relationship.
Perhaps it would help them grow.
It was then that she remembered one more secret she still had left to tell and nearly flinched. It seemed the night was not over yet.
The beautiful brunette took a deep breath and then decided that now was the time. The hour for secrets had passed.
"It won't take me weeks to return to the Twins your grace," she replied. "In fact I can return there right now without traveling by horse at all."
She saw Robb's eyes narrow at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"There is a reason I am able to get from place to place so quickly," she said to him, mentally bracing herself for the word that was coming.
"And that is how?" her betrothed asked.
Melara clenched her hands tight in her lap but made no other movement when she said her next words.
"It's quite simple your grace. I possess magic."
Ω
Don't worry...things aren't always as they appear. They never are with A Song of Ice and Fire. Don't forget to review and happy reading everyone!