A/N: Hey guys! Told you it wouldn't be so long this time! Hope you all enjoy the new chapter, and thank you so much for the reviews you left on the last one - it is all very much appreciated and I'm glad so many of you are still enjoying this fic.

:)

XXXI: Motives

Myrcella

She felt as though she had been gritting her teeth for the best part of the week. This was not how she had imagined it being after the baby was born. Instead of being absorbed in her baby, as she had wanted, it seemed as though everything was conspiring to keep him from her. Despite Robb's promise they had not managed to spend a day together with their son. Though, it was not her husband's fault, but the Maester's orders.

Myrcella had woken in the small hours, the day after Eddard was born, sweat drenching her and her vision blurred. Vaguely she remembered Robb's hands on her shoulders, the back of his hand pressed against her forehead and his panicked voice calling out for the Maester. He had come quickly and soon came to the conclusion that a fever was upon her. The worry was that she had an infection from childbirth. Myrcella was not stupid, she had known that meant she could die. Her worst fears seemed to be coming to fruition, but then, almost as soon as it had come the fever had broken.

Robb had been beside himself, kneeling at her bedside and thanking the Gods over and over as he pressed kisses to her hand. She still felt weak, only able to stomach a thin broth and water. The Maester was pleased with her, though he had been strict about her being kept away from her son. That had frustrated her more than the fever, which had been gone for three days now. She was hoping that when the Maester came today he would lift the ban on her seeing Eddard.

She was desperate for him. Her breasts ached, milk leaking from them almost constantly. She could also hear his cries through the walls which broke her heart. She wanted her boy, her precious baby, back in her arms where she could see for herself that she was safe. Robb assured her he was fine, and she tried her best not to be resentful of him for the time he could spend with their son. Her husband always had such a sparkle in his eyes when he returned from the nursery, and Myrcella quietly seethed each time. It was cruel of her. She did not want to deny her son both of his parents – but Gods, she missed him.

The matron, Herda, had started coming daily to give Myrcella updates on how well Eddard was doing. She did this when Robb was away from their chambers, and Myrcella hated staring at her smug face as she explained that her son was thriving. The way the woman spoke it was as though Eddard was better off with her and the nurses than he would be with Myrcella. Myrcella had no doubt that the woman was glad that she had been sick, so she could keep her baby from her. Perhaps it was paranoia, but she could not shake the fear. In the end she was ready to snap, but somehow she kept herself calm and asked Herda if she would send Jan to her in the future as she would rather the matron stayed in the nursery with the prince.

Herda had agreed and Myrcella was thrilled with her own excuse. At least she would not have to put up with smugness from Jan – hopefully. She sighed and leaned further back down against the pillows. If the Gods were good she would be allowed out of her bed tomorrow, and then nothing and no one would be able to stop her from seeing her son. Herda and her nurses, and anyone else, could all burn in the seven hells if they even thought to stop her.

Her fists clenched as she thought that, her teeth grinding again. A knock sounded at the door then and she forced herself to relax, bringing what she hoped to be a serene smile to her face. She would not let anyone see how much this was affecting her.

"Come," she called out to her visitor.

Unsurprisingly it was the Maester, and he smiled at her as he entered, closing the door behind him. Myrcella returned his smile as he approached the bed. "How are you feeling today, my queen?" he asked her kindly, coming to a halt at her bedside.

"Very well," she told him, it was true. Aside from being frustrated beyond belief at being stuck here in this room she felt in perfect health.

"You certainly have more colour," the Maester commented, the back of his hand coming gently to her forehead. "And no more clamminess. Have you managed your meals?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "It has been wonderful to have something other than broth."

"Good," he smiled indulgently as that, and she beamed back. Please, let me up.

"So, do you think I am well enough to come from my bed tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"If you promise me you will not over exert yourself," he looked at her pointedly.

"The only thing I wish to do is visit the nursery and hold my son," she told him, meeting his eyes.

"Then, I am delighted to allow you up," the Maester bowed shortly.

"Thank you," she told him meaningfully, and he smiled again.

"I will leave you in peace, my queen," he said. "Make sure you still continue to get plenty of rest."

"I will," she promised him, and he bowed once more before retreating from the room.

Myrcella sighed when she was left alone once again, turning her head and eyeing the book on the side table. She had been trying to read it for the past few days – Bran had brought it for her, sure it would be something she would enjoy. No doubt he was right, but she was just unable to concentrate on it, barely managing a few pages so far. She turned away from it, drumming her fingers on the bed and hating the fact that time seemed to be moving so slowly. It was tempting to get up right now. What difference would it make? It was late afternoon now, and in the morning she was allowed up, so why not now? Just to move from the bed would be wonderful.

Just as she decided that moving to the chair in front of the fire would be perfectly acceptable and begun to push back her covers, the doorknob turned and she hurriedly drew the covers up again. It was Robb, and he beamed at her as he slipped through the door, keeping it slightly ajar behind him.

"I just saw the Maester on my way up," he said, his tone telling her he had heard the good news.

"I cannot wait for tomorrow," she told him honestly.

"I know," he nodded, looking at her with slight concern.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"I know that too," his demeanour brightened. "I have a surprise for you."

You have dismissed the matron and her flock?

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

"See for yourself," he smiled, stepping aside and opening the door wide.

For a moment, all Myrcella could do was stare, and then finally her mind believed what her eyes were showing her.

"Etta!" she almost screamed, and her old handmaiden beamed, half-running towards her bedside.

Myrcella pushed the covers away then, and pulled herself up further, her arms outstretched to the woman she had been missing for so long. Only now she had seen her again did she realise quite how much she had been missing her. Etta came into her embrace and Myrcella held onto her tightly, tears spilling from her eyes. "Gods, I've missed you," Myrcella almost choked out. "How are you here?" she pulled away, looking at her in disbelief. "How did you get here in the midst of winter?"

"The snows melted in the south many moons ago," Etta told her, her cheeks shining with tears of her own as she reached forwards to tuck a lock of Myrcella's hair behind her ear.

"And they are melting swiftly here," Robb added in amusement from the door.

"You did this?" she gazed wide-eyed at her husband. "When?"

"I wrote to your brother a while ago," he told her.

"But you didn't say anything," she shook her head disbelievingly.

"I didn't want to get your hope up, in case Etta was delayed in her journey, or if she could not come at all," Robb explained to her.

"But you did, you came," Myrcella turned back to Etta, beaming.

"Of course I did, I was so pleased when the King came to me personally to ask," she smiled. "I am only sorry I did not get here before the prince arrived. I wish I could have been here for you."

"It happened so quickly, it does not matter, you are here now," Myrcella gripped her hand.

"So, you like your surprise?" Robb asked.

"Very much," she beamed at him. "It is the best surprise I could have asked for."

Etta stayed with Myrcella when Robb went to dinner. He had been dining with her since she had taken ill, but now she was better and had a companion with her he felt it time he showed his face in the dining hall. Myrcella had encouraged him to go. As much as she loved her husband, she wanted to spend some time with her oldest friend. To hear all the gossip from King's Landing. While she exchanged many letters with Tommen, her brother had never been one for gossip – he had more important things to worry about.

Etta was brushing Myrcella's hair through as she nibbled on a piece of lemon cake. Myrcella had been astounded when Lady Stark had brought it up for her. Apparently everything in Dorne was fruitful once more, and a ship had docked in White Harbour carrying all kinds of foods that they had not had in so long. Lemon cakes were Lady Stark's favourite, and she had ordered some baked at once. Myrcella had always preferred orange, but it had been so long since she had had any kind of fruit that the cake tasted heavenly.

"Your hair could use a wash," Etta told her as she continued to brush. "Perhaps I could call for some water for a bath? And afterwards I could set it in rags for you, enhance your curls. I always did envy your hair. Mine is so dull and straight, no matter how many times I tried I could never get it to curl more than a little at the end."

"Yes," Myrcella agreed. "A bath would be most welcome. Would you call for one tonight? I do not want to waste any time tomorrow."

"Of course," Etta said. "What plans do you have tomorrow, my queen?"

"I want to see my son, it seems like an age since I last held him in my arms," Myrcella could hear the longing in her own voice, and Etta stopped brushing her hair – placing the brush down on the side table before moving round and settling herself down in front of her.

"You were sick, it's not your fault," Etta soothed her, and she nodded.

"In truth I -," she hesitated a moment. "I just want him away from the nurses."

"Why?" Etta asked her with a frown.

"Because I am certain that they hate me," Myrcella said, finally admitting it out loud.

"Have you told the King?" Etta asked her, concern evident on her features. Myrcella had never adored her more than she did in that moment. Etta had believed her at once, with no questions or interrogations.

"I have no proof," Myrcella scowled.

"So," Etta shrugged. "You're the queen, and his wife. He ought to believe what you say. If you don't want them here, then you ought to just get rid of them."

"I can't do that," Myrcella shook her head.

"Why not?" Etta asked, frowning.

"Because that is something my mother would do," Myrcella told her calmly. "It has taken so long for the people to start to accept me – even now I know not all of them have. If I just dismiss them, with no proper reason, then they will all start to whisper behind their hands again. The matron and the nurses are from the North, the people will not take kindly to their own people being mistreated."

"But it sounds as though they are mistreating you," Etta said, clasping her hand. Myrcella shook her head, and her friend sighed. "It sounds as though there is only one thing that you can do then."

"What's that?" Myrcella looked at her, something akin to hope stirring inside her.

"We get proof," Etta said firmly, and Myrcella smiled widely.

"That simple," she said with a raised brow.

"They don't know you're getting out of bed tomorrow, do they?" Etta asked her.

"No," Myrcella replied, "they have absolutely no idea."

Etta helped her dress and fixed her hair up the next morning, Myrcella was grateful as her legs were a little shaky after being abed for so long. She scrutinized herself in the mirror as Etta slipped the last few pins into her hair to keep in in place. The Maester was right, she did have some more colour back in her cheeks, though she did still look a little pale. Likely it was just because she had not been outside in so long. Still, all that could change today. She could leave her chamber and visit her son, and go outside and breathe the fresh air into her lungs. Gods, she could not wait.

"Done?" she asked Etta almost impatiently.

"Yes," Etta replied. "Come on then, let's get you out of here."

Myrcella grinned at her, standing up from the dressing table and making her way to the door. On the way down the hallways she saw several of the servants. Instead of the averted eyes she was used to, the cold eyes from some, she received warm smiles and blessings of good health. It made her hold her head up higher and feel much better about her position as she made her way towards the nursery.

When she reached the door she wanted to walk right in and take her son up in her arms. She wanted to take him from that room and never let him return there again. She wanted him to herself. Surely that was her right after all the days without him? Instead, though, she forced herself to pause as she noticed that the door was ajar and voices were floating out. She stepped closer, gesturing Etta to be quiet as she moved herself closer to the gap in the door to hear what was being said.

"I suppose you will be off to visit the queen, soon," one scathing voice said.

"I expect so," Myrcella recognised Jan's meek tones.

"Best friends, are you?" another sneered.

"You always seem to spend such a long time in her company," came another drawl.

"She is concerned for her son," Jan said slightly defiantly, and Myrcella felt a surge of affection towards her. Perhaps they were not all bad.

"Why?" the matron's voice snapped then.

"Well…I imagine…because…because he is her child," Jan stammered.

"He is a child of the North. A Prince of Winterfell," the matron stated angrily.

"Yes," Myrcella had to strain to hear Jan's response.

"Not a southern brat," another voice said, and Myrcella bristled.

That did it.

Myrcella drew herself up to her full height and glanced at Etta, who nodded encouragingly. With that she pushed open the door and stepped through, taking immense satisfaction in the looks on the faces of four of the women present. Jan just averted her eyes, shrinking back against one of the walls as though to hide herself from Myrcella's heated gaze.

"My queen," the matron seemed to recover first, dropping into a hasty curtsey which the other women were quick to emulate. "We were not expecting you today, this early." She was definitely flustered, and Myrcella took a moment to enjoy it.

"I came to see my son, since the Maester has declared me to be in perfect health," Myrcella said sweetly, striding purposefully towards the cradle. No one spoke up to stop her, though she could practically feel them all exchanging glances behind her back. Myrcella decided, as she bent down to scoop up her son, that she would allow them all a moment to imagine that she had not heard a word of their exchange. Perhaps it was petty, but they had made her miserable, and she wanted to enjoy this moment.

"Is he feeding well?" Myrcella asked, turning back to face them as she rocked her son gently.

"Very well," the matron's curt manner seemed to be returning. "He is very attached to his wet nurse, and the Maester is very pleased with the way he is thriving."

"Wonderful," Myrcella gave them her most dazzling smile before she looked down at her son, a real, genuine smile of affection taking over as she gazed at him. He was so beautiful. Bigger now, than when she had held him after his birth, but all his features still so recognisable. His eyes were the most striking, turning more blue now. She was certain then that he would have his father's eyes.

"You will all, with the exception of Jan, pack away your things and prepare to return to White Harbour," Myrcella said quietly as she continued to rock Eddard, her eyes not leaving him as he clenched his little fists and squirmed slightly in his blankets.

"My queen?" the matron stammered, her eyes bulging slightly.

"Did I say something that you did not understand?" Myrcella asked, finally raising her head to look at them and seeing Etta standing in the background grinning encouragingly. She tightened her hold on her son and turned her eyes to the matron in a challenging manner.

"Is the prince not a little young for travelling?" the matron asked. "The king made no mention that he was planning to foster him so early…"

"The prince will be staying here, in his rightful place," Myrcella smiled sweetly.

"But…then…?" the matron was definitely flustered now.

"You seem confused, Herda," Myrcella said innocently.

"Well, yes, I must confess, my queen," she said. "I wonder why we should be dismissed in such a manner – the king seemed most pleased with the care we are taking of the prince."

"Yes," Myrcella nodded. "But I do not think he would be so pleased about the way you have been discussing his wife."

"My queen?" she flushed.

"The next time you speak that way about your mistress, you should think to close the door properly," Myrcella said, her tone icy now. "Yes – my son is the Prince of Winterfell and he is of the North, as his father is. However, he is also my son, and whether you like it or not I am from the south, but that does not make my son a brat – and it does not mean you can freeze me out of his life. He will be raised according to the customs of both of his parents, and I need to know that his nurses will respect that. You, clearly do not, so you will prepare to leave and I will see to it that a carriage is prepared for you for the morning."

With that, Myrcella made her way towards the door, Etta's smile now almost splitting her face as she approached. Etta opened the door up for her and winked as she made to pass through it. She paused, however, and turned back, her eyes finding Jan.

"Jan, would you care to join us?" Myrcella asked her, and the young woman nodded, despite the icy stares of the other women surrounding her.

"My queen, I really must protest -," Herda began.

"Then you can protest to the king, I have nothing else to say to you," Myrcella said with finality before she strode through the door, Etta and Jan quick on her heels.

She could hear an explosion of voices from the nursery, and she couldn't help but smirk. Part of her was a little worried that Robb would be angry with her for her rash action – but she had her reasons and as soon as her husband heard them he would be on her side. She knew it. Besides, now Jan was free of the others she was sure the girl would speak far more openly. She would get the full truth of the matron's motives one way or another.

Once back in her chambers she asked Etta to get some wine, and indicated for Jan to take a seat next to the fire. The girl looked nervous, her cheeks pale and her eyes darting around the room. She sat though, moving her shaking hands to lay in her lap as she continued to glance around. Etta placed a cup of wine in front of her in the next moment, and Myrcella moved to take the seat opposite her.

"You're not in trouble, Jan," Myrcella told her, meeting her eyes.

"I was afraid," Jan blurted out. "They are all so much older than I am, they said I was in a position of privilege and if I didn't do what I was told then I would never be able to serve in a high-born household again. I could not risk being disgraced, my queen, I am sorry…but my family would have been so ashamed of me if I had lost this position."

"You have not lost your position," Myrcella soothed. "You shall be the in charge of the prince's care, along with Etta, when I have other duties to attend to. You showed me kindness in there, Jan, even with them all standing against you. That was brave, my son will learn a lot from you."

"You are too kind, my queen," tears were streaking down Jan's face now.

"Hush now, there is no need for tears," Myrcella told her kindly. "They will be gone come morning, and you have nothing else to fear. Your position is safe, I only ask that you explain to me exactly what the matron had planned for my son."

"She thought it best he was raised as far apart from you as possible," Jan said, voice barely more than a whisper as she stared down at her hands. "She didn't want the southern influence infecting him, since…since…" she seemed unable to continue.

"Since my mother," Myrcella said bitterly, and Jan nodded her head before staring back down at her hands again.

"I tried to say you were kindly, but they were so certain that it was an act," Jan told her desperately.

"I understand, Jan," Myrcella told her, feeling deflated.

"Wine, my queen," Etta practically forced the cup into her hand. "This isn't your fault, if they cannot see how kindly and fair you are then they are clearly far too blind and ignorant to be allowed to look after a child as precious as the prince. You have done the right thing."

"I hope Robb sees it that way," Myrcella frowned, worrying at her bottom lip.

"The king ought to believe you above all others," Etta said firmly.

"I will tell him what they planned, my queen, if you like?" Jan looked up.

"Yes, perhaps," Myrcella said faintly, glancing down at Eddard for a moment before she took a sip of the wine that Etta had brought her.

"The most important thing is you have the prince away from their influence before he was old enough to remember any of their poison," Etta told her, her hand clasping her shoulder tightly.

"Yes," Myrcella nodded determinedly, her steely resolve returning. "Yes, you're right, the Gods only know what they would have said about me to him as he grew. I could not have borne it if they had managed to turn him against me."

"Now, thanks to your action, that will never happen," Etta soothed her.

"Yes," Myrcella agreed. "Yes, he is under my care now, and I will not allow anyone to falsely influence him. Not now, and not ever. My son deserves far better than that."

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! The next one will be up as soon as it's ready!

:)