Author's Note: *Edited April 2020
Chapter 5: Hatred vs. Hope
My dearest Arianne,
I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you and wish you were here. Life in the North is certainly different than life back home. I miss the warmth of the sun on my skin, of course, but more than that I miss the feel of the sand between my toes and the water lapping at my legs. I miss the spices they put in our foods – the meals here are so bland, and I won't even get started on the wine! The dresses here are so heavy I feel as if they weigh me down. The castle is surprisingly warm, but the moment you step outside, the cold eats at you, biting into your skin until you lose feeling in your limbs. When I mentioned it once, they said to me that this was nothing. "Winter is coming," they told me. It seems as if their words are more of a warning than a family motto.
I have to admit, however, that life here isn't all terrible. Sansa, the eldest girl, is only ten and three years of age but she is already a proper lady. She loves to talk about her dresses and the princes that I've met, which I surprisingly find endearing. Then there's Arya, a girl with more fire and stubbornness in her than I have ever met. She saw me shoot an arrow the other week, and now we sneak in training sessions every other day. Bran is around Trystane's age and reminds me so much of him that it hurts at times. He's curious and inquisitive and the questions he asks really makes you think. Then there's Rickon, a wild, little boy of six years old who's always seeking an adventure.
There's also a bastard here, named Jon, who was fathered by Lord Stark, which is confusing because I've never met a man who has higher standards of honor than he. Lady Stark, on the other hand, is cold and indifferent towards me and I fear my mouth has gotten me in trouble there as well. I find Jon is the easiest to talk to, much easier than my supposed husband.
It's been just under a fortnight and my husband and I have barely spoken. We sleep next to each other and are polite around the rest of his family, but by some unspoken rule, we try never to be alone with each other for too long. We've developed a pattern. I am the first one awake and out of bed when the sun rises, and he comes to bed long after I've fallen asleep. I can't help feeling that part of it is my fault. I hadn't made the best first impression and to make matters worse, we never ''did the dirty deed' as Tyene would say. I don't know what happened, Ari. It was like my body betrayed me – I just froze. He spouted some nonsense about waiting till I was ready, but he didn't want this farce of a marriage anymore than I did. It's like there's some invisible barrier between us that neither of us knows how to break through. I hate how awkward and uncomfortable it is.
Maliya paused, looking out of Robb's – their, she corrected herself, chamber window. She sorely wished she could tell her sister everything. Just pour all her worries and fears out in a way that it would be lifted from her shoulders.
The first thing would be the confusing and tangled dreams that had plagued her since her wedding night. It was filled with such despair, pain and fear that it often woke Maliya up in a cold sweat, but there never any substantial images that she could remember when her eyes were open. The second thing she would write about would be the strong, peculiar pull that she felt whenever she passed by the crypts. Did she have some odd connection to the dead? Was it because of Lyanna Stark? It was a mystery that she couldn't even begin to puzzle out.
The final thing she would write about, one that made her feel both relieved and slightly guilty, was the gift that her uncle had given her the morning he had left.
"Here," he had said to her, holding out a box. When she opened it, she saw several different pouches along with a list of ingredients. Her eyes widened when she read the name at the top, and she looked up at her uncle, speechless. He nodded gravely, no amusement in his eyes for once. "Moon tea," he confirmed in a soft voice. "You have enough ingredients there to last you a long time. Drink some whenever you lay with your husband." He paused, looking at her carefully. "I know this marriage wasn't what you had in mind and I know you're frightened of being a mother. This is my gift to you. I hope that even though you have your mission here, you can eventually be happy with this new life, and maybe one day you'll find you don't need this anymore."
She had hesitantly thanked her uncle, then shoved the box at the bottom of her trunk with the other gifts the Martells had gotten her.
Sighing, Maliya dipped the quill back into the ink and began to finish up the letter.
Uncle Oberyn left a few days ago, so he should reach home within a moon or two. I'm going to miss seeing a familiar face around here. How are Father and Trystane? And Obara, Ty and Nym? How are you? I would kill for some news of home, to hear their jokes and your wonderful advice. I bet you're rolling your eyes about how mushy this letter is!
Anyway, write back quickly. We leave on the morrow for wedding celebrations in a neighboring castle, one of the sons of the Stark's bannerman. Supposedly they were at our wedding as well, but I can't remember them for the life of me. Wish me luck – I'll probably end up offending some northerner with my 'crass, southern ways.'
Give everyone my love back home, and tell them that I miss them.
Your sister always,
Maliya
Maliya carefully sealed the envelope and stood to find a raven to deliver it. She really, really wished that Dorne wasn't so far away. She knew that it would be several weeks before she would receive Arianne's response, and she could use her advice just about now.
The next morning, Maliya had finished packing her smaller trunk for the Umber wedding and was exiting the Great Hall after breaking her fast when Rickon ran up to her, his bright eyes wide with excitement and a wide grin on his face. "Come on, Lady Maliya!" He urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her back in the direction he had just come from. "We're all getting ready to go! Mother says I need to sit in the wagon with her and Sansa because I'm not old enough to ride that far yet, but I saw your horse in the stables! I've never seen a horse like him before, what's his name?"
Maliya couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "His name is Shadow. My cousin gifted him to me before I left home. He's a Dornish Sand Steed, that's why you haven't seen a horse like him. They can run for two full days and never tire."
"Wow," Rickon mouthed slowly, staring up at her in wonder. "I want a horse like that when I get older! Are you excited for the wedding? I'm not really excited for that part, but I've never left Winterfell before – it's just like an adventure, isn't Lady Maliya? Like all the ones you were telling me your uncle went on?"
Maliya ruffled his hair fondly, chuckling as he stumbled over his own two feet because he kept looking back at her with wide eyes. "I hope this adventure is the first of many for you."
Shouting reached them from the courtyard as they approached. Rickon's face became serious. "Arya's angry because mother and father won't let her ride her horse like Robb, Jon and Theon," he warned in a low voice.
Maliya's eyebrows rose. Since she had been at Winterfell, she has witnessed Arya's wrath first hand. The girl had an unrivaled temper combined with a stubbornness like nothing she had ever seen before. Maliya couldn't help but admire it – but then again, she hadn't been on the receiving end of it… yet.
By the time Rickon had pulled her out to the courtyard, she saw Arya sitting in the carriage, her arms crossed stiffly and a look of pure fury on her face. Lady Stark sat next to her looking slightly stressed along with a mildly annoyed Sansa and Bran. Lord Stark was sitting astride his horse, along with Robb, Jon and Theon and two guards that she vaguely recognized. Ser Rodrik Cassel was a stout, yet broad older man, with snow-white whiskers. If Maliya remembered correctly, he was the master at arms at Winterfell. The other man was his nephew, Jory Cassel, a younger man with a kind smile – he was the captain of Lord Stark's guard.
There was one other man sitting at the front of the carriage directing the horses, a young guard about her age who looked like he had little to no experience with a sword.
For a moment, Maliya wished that she were riding with them on Shadow. Then she met Theon's disdainful sneer and Robb's indifferent glance and she realized she would rather face the wrath of Arya and the icy gaze of Lady Stark. So she looked away from her husband and followed Rickon into the carriage.
The ride to the Umber's castle was long but largely uneventful. They made small talk as they rode, taking occasional breaks to let the young ones stretch their legs. Maliya didn't think it was possible, but the air got even colder as they traveled farther north. It invaded the carriage walls, making Maliya pull her fur cloak tighter around her. She envied the Starks – they didn't even seem to notice the cold. Maliya tried to distract herself with memories of her, Arianne and Trystane frolicking on the warm, coastal beaches. Seven hells, she missed her home.
They had arrived just in time for the wedding ceremony when they reached the Umber's castle, and things moved very quickly after that. Lord Jon Umber, who was apparently called the "Greatjon" greeted them all with his booming voice and wide grin. As soon as Maliya saw him, she remembered him from her own wedding (she still couldn't get used to saying that). He was the large man who had danced her around the Great Hall and actually made her genuinely laugh and forget about her current situation.
"Hello Lady Catelyn, welcome Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Ah, and there is the beautiful princess of Dorne!" She widened her eyes in surprise as he pulled her into a jovial hug. "Come, come meet my family! The rest of the Starks are bloody sick of us, I'm sure."
"Don't be ridiculous, Lord Umber," Catelyn jumped in, smiling at him. "We enjoy your visits, and besides, it's been a while since we've seen some of your children."
"You're too kind, My Lady," Lord Umber chuckled. "This here's my firstborn son and heir, Smalljon, and my other son Russal. And my daughters, Delylah and Teena. I'd like you all to meet the new Lady Stark." All of the Greatjon's children were very tall and fierce looking, but they all smiled at her, the women curtsying. The oldest woman, a girl maybe a few years older than her, had a young infant resting in her arms, rocking it slowly.
"Robb - Where is Robb?" He asked, looking around.
"Here," Robb answered, sliding off his horse with the other men.
Greatjon shook hands with him and Lord Stark, greeting them happily. "And how is married life treating you, Young Robb?"
Robb's eyes flickered to her for the briefest of seconds. "Very well, my Lord, thank you for asking," Robb answered politely.
Liar, Maliya thought grimly, though she kept her smile on her face.
"Good, good. Well, I'm sure you all must be weary from your ride!" Greatjon boomed, looking around at them all. "We will show you to your rooms so you can all freshen up and the wedding ceremony will begin within the hour!"
Servants came pouring out of the castle as the Greatjon spoke, some of them going to the carriage to grab their trunks and some of them to show them to their rooms.
"My lord and lady Stark," an older woman greeted them, curtsying and keeping her eyes downcast. "If you would follow me, I will show you to your chambers." Without glancing at her this time, Robb offered her his arm, which she took, and they followed her inside the Umber's castle.
The three of them were silent as they made their way through the castle. Maliya kept a pleasant look on her face but on the inside she felt like her skin was crawling. Her hand was resting as lightly as she could make it on her husband's arm, but even still it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Her husband, meanwhile, had a blank expression on his face as he pointedly ignored her. The silence was pounding in her ears and all she wanted to do was put her hands over her them and scream.
How did we get to this point? Maliya asked herself, mystified. At what point after the wedding night did we both decide that ignoring each other was the best option? It hadn't even been a fortnight since she had been married, but she knew that she couldn't handle this for much longer. What would they do if I just ran away? Slipped into the night and made my way back home?
Maliya entertained the idea for a moment, pictured herself stealing a horse from the stables and riding so fast that her hair streamed in the wind behind her. She pictured the wide, triumphant grin across her face the feeling of her freedom swelling in her chest.
"Here we are," the servant said, holding her arm out towards a door. Maliya blinked, slamming back into reality so quickly and abruptly that she almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of it.
She dimly heard her husband thanking the servant for her help and then they were alone. Maliya took a moment to observe their chambers, which were nice but not quite as nice as the ones back in Winterfell. Her husband had moved to the window in the meantime and Maliya briefly glanced at his back, taking in his broad shoulders and tense, stiff posture.
Stifling a sigh, Maliya walked over to the trunks that had been delivered and opened hers, pulling out the dress that she had brought for the wedding, a deep green that complimented her olive toned skin nicely. She stepped behind the screen in the corner of the room and began to change out of the traveling dress she had chosen to come here in. She hung the dress over the side of the screen and began to pull the green one on. She had just pulled it up, slipping her arms into the sleeves when her eyes slammed shut, realizing too late that, like a fool, she had brought a dress that needed to be laced up in the back.
How could she have been so stupid? She debated what to do for half a second. The only other dress she brought with her was another traveling dress for the following day and it was nowhere near appropriate for the wedding of a lord's son. Cursing under her breath, she realized there was no other choice, she was going to have to ask her dear husband for help.
She had to work to plaster a smile on her face, and she wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. "Robb?" She called in an easygoing voice, holding the loose dress up to her chest as she stepped out from behind the screen. He turned to face her, his icy blue eyes emotionlessly taking her in. "I accidentally brought a dress with lacings in the back. Would you mind helping me?"
"Of course," he nodded once. She hid the roll of her eyes as she turned around, bringing her hair over one shoulder and exposing most of her back to him. Her back and shoulders were stiff as he swiftly did up the laces, taking care not to touch her bare skin. "There," he said, once he finished, stepping back quickly, his voice sounding off for some reason.
Sighing, feeling helpless, she turned to face him once more. "Robb – " she began, but he spoke at the same time as her.
"Are you ready to go?" She didn't know what nonsense was about to come out of her mouth, but she didn't try again, just snapping her mouth shut and nodding, falling silent once more. It was like she had written to Ari just the day previously. There was an invisible barrier between them that they both either didn't know how to break or were too scared to. It was exhausting.
But she played this strange role of a wife and pulled on her fur cloak, taking his offered arm once more as he led her out of their room. He must have visited the Umber's castle before, because he knew the twists and turns of the different corridors, guiding her out of the building and to the Godswood in the darkness of the night. The rest of the Stark family was waiting, huddled together underneath the giant tree. Others were waiting there as well, and Maliya recognized the Umber family on the other side.
"You look beautiful, My Lady," Lady Stark told her softly, causing Maliya to look at her in surprise.
"Thank you," she answered cautiously, wondering if the older woman had some ulterior motive and hating herself for it. The two of them had hardly spoken since that first incident, when she had interrupted Lady Stark and Jon Snow.
"I love your dress," Sansa added with a bright smile. "Green is definitely your color."
Maliya's mouth curved up into a very unladylike smirk, her eyes twinkling. "You should see me in red," she whispered back, inwardly laughing at her own private joke.
The crowd was shushed at that moment, and Maliya swiveled her head to see Russal Umber's betrothed walking between the two crowds of people, her arm in her father's. Maliya watched the proceedings in silence, astounded by how similar and yet so different this wedding was to her own. The words were the same, the actions were the same, but the emotion behind everything was completely different.
The bride's smile stretched across her face as she approached her soon to be husband, her eyes shimmering with an obvious happiness. Russal's eyes were watching her adoringly and he eagerly reached out his hand for hers when she stopped in front of them. When Maliya had said her words to her husband, they felt hollow and she had to force them out of her mouth. With this couple, the words were said slowly, reverently, and the kiss at the end of the ceremony lasted to the point of inappropriateness. Sansa blushed watching it, hiding a giggle behind her hand, and there were twin looks of disgust on Bran and Arya's face.
There was a loud cough from the Greatjon and the two finally broke apart, gasping for air and beaming. Maliya was delayed in joining the clapping with the rest of the audience, such was her shock and bewilderment. It was obvious that the pair either loved each other or at least knew one another before the wedding. She wondered what her life would be like if she had been allowed to marry a man of her choosing, someone that she loved or had a deep respect for. Would she have been eager for the bedding ceremony? Would she have felt that desire to lay with her husband, or looked forward to carrying his sons or daughters? Would the constant resentment and regret disappear from her everyday life?
Maliya was lost in her own thoughts as she followed the chatting guests back into the dining hall for the wedding feast. She was seated next to her husband with all the rest of the Starks at a table just below the Umber family. The only ones not with them were Jon and Theon, who were sitting somewhere towards the back of the room.
Several courses of food were served, similar to what was served at her own wedding. She was able to eat much more of it this time around, though she didn't touch the red wine in front of her. Sansa, thankfully, was sitting on the other side of her so she concentrated on making small talk with her in order to distract herself from her husband ignoring her on her other side.
Shortly afterwards, the tables were pushed back and the beaming couple made their way down to the dance floor. Maliya watched them closely, noting the reverent way they held each other as they danced, the happiness clearly written on their faces.
"My Lady?" Maliya blinked back to reality, looking up to see a young man maybe a few years older than her standing there, looking at her expectantly.
"Pardon?" She asked, both looking and sounding bewildered.
The man didn't seem at all put off. If anything, his smile grew wider. "My name is Colton Umber, I'm one of Russal's cousins. I was wondering if I could interest you in a dance? A beautiful woman such as yourself should not be sitting here all alone."
Alone? Sure enough, when Maliya looked around she saw that she was one of the few people left at her table. While she had been absorbed watching the couple dance, Lord and Lady Stark went off to talk to the Umbers, a young lad had apparently asked Sansa to dance, Robb went to go find Theon and Jon and the other three younger Starks were having a covert food fight at the other end of the table. She turned back to Colton, taking in his slightly messed dark brown hair, twinkly grey eyes and flirty smile. An answering smile slowly crossed her face. As conceited as it sounded, this was a game that she knew how to play all too well. She had spent years at parties with her sister and cousins, flirting and then fending off potential pursuers. She was often called a tease because she would never lose her virginity, but she had always enjoyed the attention from the opposite sex. The lengths that they would go to in order to spend a night to her gave her a powerful, heady feeling.
"I'm married," she sighed regretfully.
His smile showed that he already knew that particular piece of information and didn't care. "I don't see him here," he smirked, looking around in a show of exaggeration. "Do you think he would mind if I borrowed his wife for a few dances?"
Her brown eyes flickered to where Robb stood with his half brother and his friend, his head thrown back in laughter, looking like he was clearly enjoying himself. Those eyes briefly narrowed in annoyance before turning back to Colton. "No… I don't think he would mind at all."
"So which one do you think?" Theon prodded, his eyes slightly glazed. Both of them had had several cups of wine and were feeling the pleasant buzz running through their veins. "On the one hand, the brunette has a prettier face, which will be easier to look down upon when she is spread out underneath me, but have you seen the tits on the blonde? I could always just take her on all fours so I wouldn't have to see her face…" he mused, lost in his thoughts.
Robb snorted into his cup, rolling his eyes at his friend. "It matters not to me, Theon, you always do as you please anyway."
"If the two of you don't slow down, nobody's going to have the ability to please anyone," Jon pointed out, amusement in his eyes. He was still nursing his first cup of wine. "Besides, Theon, what will you do if neither of them agree to sleep with you?"
Theon threw his head back and laughed for a full minute, a cocky smile on his face as his chortles died down. "Good one, Snow. Which one would your virginal brain pick, I wonder? My guess is the pretty face. What do you think? Is the pretty brunette enough to sway that poor cock you seem determined to torture?"
"Shove off, Theon," Robb warned, noting the flash of anger in his brother's grey eyes.
Theon's eyes narrowed in his own anger. "No, you shove off, Stark, I was just asking a question. Sorry we don't all have a beautiful, exotic princess warming our beds whom we can fuck whenever we wish." Robb clenched his jaw shut at those words, gripping his cup tightly as he looked away, his nostrils flaring.
"Don't talk about her like that – " Jon snapped, shooting his brother a glare when he remained silent.
Theon held up a hand to cut Jon off, suspicion creeping into his eyes as he stared at Robb, his anger momentarily forgotten. "You have slept with her, haven't you Robb?" He asked slowly.
"Of course he has," Jon scoffed, speaking up again. "The marriage isn't complete until it's consummated, right Robb?" He looked at his brother and frowned. "Robb?"
"He hasn't!" Theon declared, his eyes widening in both disbelief and glee. "What happened Robb, did the thought of all her Dornish experience frighten you so badly that you couldn't perform?"
"Bite your tongue, Theon," Robb snapped angrily, his blue eyes flashing in annoyance. "What happens between my wife and I is none of your concern." The truth was that even though he didn't want this marriage, if Maliya had been willing on their wedding night he would have had no problem performing his duties as a husband. His swift and sudden desire for her when she had kissed him that night was not something he was like to forget. Unfortunately, he also couldn't forget the fear in her eyes or the way she tensed and flinched every time he touched her. He had spent most of his time since that night actively avoiding her to stamp out any similar reactions both in him and in herself.
Theon just laughed and shook his head, his grin widening, if possible, when his eye caught something over Robb's shoulder. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Well, Stark, you had better start paying better attention to your wife," he warned. "Or you may find that someone else will end up fucking her first."
Frowning, Robb looked over his shoulder, following Theon's gaze. What he saw made his blue eyes flare in anger, his teeth clenching once more. If the cup in his hand had been made of glass, it would have shattered.
Through a red haze of drunken anger, he watched as some moron put his hand on the small of Maliya's back, leaning down with a smile to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he said must have amused her because she laughed, gently touching his arm as she took a sip of something from her cup.
"Who is that?" Jon asked in a low voice.
"A dead man walking," Robb growled fiercely, his eyes still glued to them.
The blonde Theon had been ogling chose that moment to walk past their table. Theon gently reached out and grasped her wrist, a seductive grin on his lips. "Hello, love. I was wondering if you could help me out for a moment. You see the girl with the black hair standing by those tables over there? Who's that man that she's talking to?"
Robb tore his gaze away to look at the blonde as she answered. To his horror, she blushed a bright red and let out a small giggle. "Oh, him? That's Colton Umber, Smalljon and Russal's cousin." She sighed, watching him with dreamy eyes. "That girl should consider herself lucky," she added wistfully.
"Why?" Robb asked sharply, fist clenched.
"He was the best damn lay I've ever had. His talented tongue is as well known amongst the ladies as his extremely large – "
"Alright!" Robb interrupted quickly, not wanting to hear anymore. He slammed his cup down stood without even realizing it. "That's it, I'm – "
"Wait!" Jon interjected, grabbing Robb's arm quickly, his eyes worried. "Don't do anything stupid Robb, think this through! Your drunk, you're going to end up doing or saying something that you're going to regret – "
With a snarl of anger, Robb ripped his arm out of Jon's grip, his head swimming slightly at the sudden violent motion, and stomped off in Maliya's direction.
She actually had the audacity to smile up at him as he approached, and if he had been in his right mind he would have noticed the slightly glazed appearance in her eyes. "Hello, Robb!" She greeted happily. "Have you tried this? Colton says it's called Arbor gold and it actually tastes pretty nice. I told him that the red wine here was disgusting, it doesn't compare in any way to what we have in Dorne – "
Robb wasn't listening. The only goal in his mind was getting her as far away from this man as possible. He grabbed the arm not holding the cup, grabbing her rougher than he meant to in his drunken haze. "I need to talk to you," he told her, shooting the other man a threatening glare.
Her smile dissolved into a confused frown, as she tried to pull her arm back. "What are you doing, get your hands off me – "
"Hey, you heard the lady!" Colton interrupted angrily. "You're going to hurt her!"
Robb stared down at the hand that the other man had the audacity to place on his arm. His icy blue eyes turned dangerously dark as he stared down at Colton. "Remove your hand at once or I will break it," he threatened in a deep voice. "She is mine. She is my wife and I will do with her as I please."
Maliya's mouth dropped open in outrage, her eyes narrowing in her fury. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing, Robb Stark! Let go of me, you sorry excuse for a man – " Robb ignored her, tightening his grip as she pulled harder. The image of Colton's hand touching his wife played over and over in his head.
"Robb!" Jon's sharp, appalled voice broke through Robb's anger and he blinked, realizing what he was doing. His hand immediately let go of Maliya and she staggered back unexpectedly, her eyes widening in surprise as her arms jerked, the remaining wine in her cup flying out to splash over her chest and the front of her dress. Maliya gasped in dismay, her mouth dropping open as the four of them froze.
Her gaze darted down from her ruined dress to the audience their little display had caused and finally landed on Robb. He squirmed under the strength of her rage – was that hatred that flashed through her eyes?
With her jaw clenched and a glare that promised painful things to come, Maliya spun on her heel, skirts whirling as she stalked out of the dining hall. Robb looked after her for a moment, regret beginning to seep in. His gaze hesitantly swung around to look at Jon who was still standing next to him. There was a look of disappointment in his brother's gaze as he shook his head slowly and walked away.
Running a hand through his hair in agitation, Robb turned to follow after Maliya, intending to figure out just what in the seven hells she was playing at.
He caught up to her just as she reached the end of the corridor, wiping at her dress with her hands and muttering darkly under her breath in a language that he didn't understand. He filed that bit of information away for later perusing. She must have heard his footsteps following her down the hall because she glanced over her shoulder, a snarl crossing her face at the sight of him. "I would advise you to walk away, dear husband, you're the last person I want to see right now."
Irritation made his nostrils flare. "Would you rather I was your new friend, Colton – "
She spun around to face him, making him stop short to avoid running into her. "What does it matter to you?" She snapped in a cold voice. "You've done nothing but ignore me since I became your wife – "
"You blatantly offend me and my family when you throw yourself at another man like that – "
"Throw myself?" She repeated in a loud voice, shock crossing her face. "Forgive me for enjoying a simple conversation with a man who actually showed an interest in me – "
He let out a derisive laugh, feeling like he was on the edge of losing control. He wasn't even sure what was coming out of his mouth anymore. "So are you saying you want me to paw at you and ply you with compliments like some common whore – "
He didn't even see it coming. The next thing he knew his head had snapped to the side, pain flaring in his cheek as a loud crack resounded through the corridor. She had just backhanded him across the face with a strength that he didn't think she possessed in her thin frame.
His shocked and furious gaze jumped to hers, eyes narrowed and cheek blazing with pain as he took a threatening step towards her. She didn't back away as he expected her to, nor did she look the least bit remorseful with her actions. In fact, her face was deceptively calm, though the barely restrained rage in her eyes was enough to make him hesitate. "I don't care who you are – you could be the fucking king of Westeros for all I care – but you will never put your hands on my body or speak to me like that ever again, or you may wake up one day to find that you're missing a few key body parts. I will not be treated like I am one of your possessions or something to be won, and if you continue to do so, I promise that I will make your life a living hell. You can grab your trunk and find somewhere else to sleep tonight, dear husband. I can't stand the sight of you."
With one last cold, dismissive look, Maliya continued down the hallway, leaving Robb standing there looking thunderstruck and wondering what in the seven hells had just happened.
Fury, irritation, disbelief and outrage all swirled together inside of her, battling for dominance, and clashing terribly with the lightheaded, dizzy feeling the Arbor gold had given her. What had started out as a pleasant, happy buzz had turned into a sick, nauseated mess.
Who did he think he was? Maliya raged internally, clenching and unclenching her fists. What person in their right mind thinks that it's acceptable to ignore their wife for multiple days and then suddenly manhandle and demand things from her? And then he had the gall to look surprised at my anger! He is the reason my dress is ruined and he is the reason why I will have bruises on my arm in the morning – what a fucking prick!
Maliya was so lost in her angry thoughts that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was wandering aimlessly through the corridors, trying to find an exit that would lead her outside so she could get some fresh air and sober up. What she found instead, however, was an open window in one of the corridors. Too late, she realized she wasn't alone.
"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I'll just go – " She began, already turning to leave.
"Don't be silly," Lady Stark told her in a quiet voice, looking over at her from where she was leaning against the corridor wall by the window. She did a double take, her eyebrows slowly rising when she saw the stain on the front of Maliya's dress. "Are you alright? What happened?"
"Oh this?" Maliya chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "It was just an accident, I bumped into someone and my wine spilled." Maliya wasn't about to tell her what her son did – she would never take her side. Maliya shuffled uncomfortably in the resulting silence. She hesitated for a moment; within the past week she had made considerable progress with each of the Stark family, excluding Robb and Lord Stark. "I've actually been wanting to speak with you, Lady Stark."
"Oh? What about?" Lady Stark asked, turning to watch her as Maliya slowly approached.
"The night of my welcoming feast," Maliya murmured quietly, working to put a contrite look on her face. She spoke slowly, gathering her thoughts as she tried to figure out how to phrase what she was going to say in a way that wouldn't piss Lady Stark off. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot actually. I… I've had a very different upbringing in Dorne than here in the North. While I completely stand by my beliefs – I don't believe I'll ever stop standing up for the innocent children who are blamed for their parent's mistakes – I do understand that it wasn't my place to interfere, and I'm sorry that it put us off to a bad start."
There was a long, tense moment of silence as Lady Stark carefully searched Maliya's face. Maliya waited with bated breath, feeling more anxious than she felt she should. It was a relief when she started to speak. "The Stark men have always been stubborn, standing by their strong morals even if it would mean their death. What I had hoped and prayed to the gods was to find a young woman who is confident enough to not let her voice be drowned out. To be that voice questioning them when they need it, but also listening and being humble enough to apologize when they are wrong. To have the strength of character to stand by what she believes in." She paused, her face and voice softening. "I believe that the gods may have answered my prayers."
"Can we try and begin again?" Maliya asked, tilting her head to the side as a small smile crossed her face. "I know that Robb has lessons with Lord Stark about how to be the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord Paramount of the North. Would you… would you mind teaching me about what you do? How to run a household? I'd like to start helping out more."
Lady Stark's smiled was more reserved than Maliya would have hoped for, but at least she smiled, linking her arm with Maliya as they turned back towards the corridor. "I think I would love that," she answered. "I take it that you have settled into your new life at Winterfell then?"
"I think so," Maliya lied in an easy voice, adding a little uncertainty onto her face for effect. "It's still really hard being so far away from my family, and I'm pretty sure I could live for a hundred years and still never grow accustomed to this cold." She felt pleased when Lady Stark chuckled. "But for the most part, everybody has been very gracious and welcoming." Apart from you and your son, she added silently.
"I am glad. Even if you were not pleased with the match to begin with, I hope that you can eventually be happy."
"Just as you were?" Maliya asked innocently. "Lord Stark told me you and him were not originally betrothed."
"He told you that?" Lady Stark asked in surprise. "Yes, I was originally betrothed to his brother Brandon. I didn't always believe our marriage would be a happy one. When he died, my sister Lysa and I were married in a double ceremony. It turns we conceived Robb on our wedding night. I gave birth to our first child and began to raise him on our own. When Ned finally returned home, he was carrying another woman's child in his arms."
The words were delivered casually, but Maliya was so thunderstruck that she had stopped walking and stood there, gaping at Lady Stark. She couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for her. When she tried to picture becoming pregnant on her wedding night, have her husband abandon her to war, give birth and begin to raise her first child by herself and then feeling hopeful when her husband returns only to feel betrayed by him when he does.
She must have felt so abandoned….so betrayed. "How old were you?" Maliya asked quietly.
"Younger than you," Lady Stark confirmed, taking note of Maliya's attentiveness and seeming to appreciate it.
"How did you forgive him?" Maliya asked. She couldn't even imagine forgiving Robb at this moment and he didn't do anything close to what his father did.
"It was one of the hardest things I've ever done," Lady Stark told her honestly, still looking pained by the thought of it. "It took everything I had within me but it took time most of all. Ned and I slowly grew to know and understand one another. We became friends first, and as our family expanded, so did our love. The forgiveness came with time as well."
Maliya nodded slowly, though she didn't believe that Lady Stark had fully forgiven her husband. If she had, she would have no reason to treat Jon the way she did. To Maliya, it looked like Lady Stark was taking out her anger with her husband on Jon, the innocent child in the situation. Knowing that, Maliya understood that she would never fully like Lady Stark. Her treatment of Jon and bastards in general was something that she would simply not be able to forget.
Lady Stark interrupted Maliya's swirling and conflicted thoughts. "Are you coming back to the feast?"
A wave of exhaustion swept over her at the thought. "No, I think I'm going to retire early for the night. I'm afraid the journey here has made me very weary."
Lady Stark nodded with an understanding smile. "Sleep well. Shall I let Robb know – "
"No!" Maliya interrupted quickly, shocking the older woman into silence. "Uh, I don't want to bother him – let him enjoy the festivities," she amended quickly, hoping to disarm her with a smile.
Lady Stark nodded again, though she looked slightly confused by Maliya's behavior. Thankfully, however, Lady Stark didn't question it. They said their good nights and parted ways. It took Maliya an absurd amount of time to find the chambers she was sharing with Robb, and then even longer to attempt to unlace the back of her dress. Luckily, it was easier to unlace the dress than it was to lace it.
She gratefully climbed into the bed, sighing at both the peace and quiet and the soft warmth of the furs. She had just begun to drift off into unconsciousness, when the door to the room quietly opened. Her body tensed but her eyes remained closed, her ears straining for any sort of noise. Robb – she was assuming it was him – fumbled around the room in the darkness, cursing swiftly under his breath when he kept bumping into the furniture.
Was he too drunk to understand me when I told him to sleep elsewhere tonight? Maliya fumed silently. If he dares to climb into this bed, I might just attack him.
He didn't, however. He just took one of the extra fur blankets and a pillow and spread it out onto the floor. Maliya listened to him shifting restlessly, attempting to get comfortable on the hard floor, but Maliya didn't feel sorry for him one bit. After what he did, he could spend the night with the horses for all she cared.
All she cared about was getting a good night's sleep for the first time since her wedding night. Because no matter how hard she tried, she just could not get used to sleeping with another person in the bed.
Maliya seriously didn't think that things between her and Robb could get any worse, but life seemed determined to prove her wrong. She had a fitful night's sleep, unfortunately. Apparently, when Robb gets drunk, he also tends to snore. Maliya tried holding a pillow over her ears, thinking calming thoughts and even resorted to throwing things at him, but he only snorted and rolled over.
She woke extremely early, groaning at the pounding in her head and the dry, cotton feeling in her mouth. Bleary eyed, she slipped on her traveling dress for the ride back to Winterfell and braided her hair before heading down to break her fast. The dining hall was mostly deserted; Maliya guessed that most everyone was sleeping off the effects of last night. Everyone else seemed to have had a good time, at least.
Maliya had just sat down and was nibbling on a biscuit when Jon walked in, his face growing serious when he saw her, and headed in her direction. "Hey," he greeted quietly, searching her face. "How are you doing?"
Maliya frowned. He seemed even more solemn then usual, and she was pretty sure she detected worry in his eyes. "A little tired maybe, but I've had worse. One time my cousins, sister and I snuck into the wine cellars, stole a few bottles of wine and threw a party down by the beach. I can still only remember bits of pieces of that night – we got in so much trouble for that," she grinned, shaking her head as she became lost in the memory.
Jon snorted. "I can't even imagine what Lord Stark would do." He looked slightly scared at the thought. "But that wasn't what I meant. I was talking about last night. With Robb," he prodded at her blank look.
"Oh," she muttered, feeling slightly awkward. Should she even be talking about this with his brother? "Everything's fine, Jon, don't - " she began, trying to brush it off.
"No, it's not fine!" Jon interrupted heatedly, leaning forward, grey eyes blazing. "He should never have grabbed you like that, it's unacceptable."
"Jon – "
He stopped her from interrupting. "No, listen, I've never seen him act that way. He was drunk and not thinking clearly, but that is no excuse. Just…. Don't give up on him, Maliya," he pleaded, gray eyes now wide and imploring, searching between both of her own. "I know I've told you he's a good man, and I'm sorry that it hasn't proven true yet. Just give him time, I know he'll get there."
On the one hand, Maliya was impressed that Jon would seek her out to try and not defend his brother, exactly, but still speak on his behalf. But on the other hand, the idea that Jon wanted to protect her from him was endearing and laughable. He had no idea, that at this very moment, Maliya had two daggers hidden on her person, one in the dagger sheath around her right thigh and the other slipped into her riding boots.
She didn't need protection from Robb. Truth be told, he needed protection from her.
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jon, I really do. But I am a Princess of Dorne, raised by Doran and Oberyn Martell," she told him proudly, adding in her head, and the daughter of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen. "I have already spoken to your brother last night. I have never been treated like that before and I made it clear that it won't happen again. I may be a woman, but I promise you I can take care of myself."
He nodded unconvincingly as Lady Stark entered the dining hall and that had been the end of that conversation. Things moved very quickly after that. The rest of the Starks entered and ate one by one and the Umber's servants worked on loading their trunks into the carriage. Robb and Maliya avoided one another as if the other had a deadly illness. He was actually very quiet this morning and she heard his mother asking him what was wrong.
Maliya hoped he was nursing a killer hangover.
The Umbers sent them off with a hearty farewell, though it was apparent that they were all feeling the effects of the wine they had drunk last night. The young guard shyly helped them into the carriage and Maliya settled into one side with a sigh, preparing herself for a long journey. She rested her head along the back of the carriage, and it wasn't too long before she began to doze off, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking.
She was jolted awake, jumping, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion when she heard Sansa's sudden scream and the jumbled sounds of people shouting. Maliya looked around, her sharp eyes taking in several things at once. The frightened look on Bran and Rickon's face as Lady Stark clutched them to her, yelling at Arya to move away from the window where she was peering outside.
Maliya leapt into action, pulling Arya away from the window and shoving her towards Sansa and her mother. Heart in her throat, Maliya looked outside, and for a moment, her brain couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. The young guard who had been driving the carriage was lying across the seat, his eyes open and an arrow lodged in his throat. With the reins slack, the horses had slowed to a stop, whinnying nervously.
The loud, crashing sound of steel against steel caught her attention, and looking out even further, she saw a small band of dirty, unkempt men and women racing towards their group. The few of them on horseback were loosing arrows, but the rest were wielding swords, yelling war cries as they ran. Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel were shouting instructions, rallying with Lord Stark the other guards and circling around to form the front line in front of Robb, Jon and Theon, who were all reaching for their swords. Two other guards ran to the carriage to take up post in front of the doors.
"It's wildlings, Mother!" Maliya heard Arya yell. She had torn free from her sister's grasp and had her nose pressed against another window.
"Arya, move away from the window!" Lady Stark snapped, her eyes narrowed. Arya ignored her.
Maliya glanced over her shoulder quickly. "Who?"
"Wildlings," Arya repeated impatiently. "The people who live north of the wall. I've never seen one before. How did so many of them get over here?" She asked in an animated voice.
Maliya tuned out the sounds of Arya and Lady Stark bickering. Her eyes were darting around what was quickly becoming a battlefield, trying to take everything in at once. It seemed as if the Starks were holding their own against the wildlings. Though they fought ferociously and seemed to have some skill with a blade, they weren't nearly as organized or skilled as the Starks and their guards.
"He's dead," she heard Sansa mutter in a voice hinging on hysteria. "Seven hells. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead." A glance over her shoulder showed Lady Stark reaching for Sansa and attempting to calm her in a soft voice, but the poor girl was white in the face and looked terrified.
Everything was happening too quickly. Maliya didn't know who to focus on, the children terrified in the carriage or the fighting that was going on outside. A loud yell drew Maliya's attention back to the window. Theon charged into the fray eagerly, brandishing his sword with Jon and Robb on either side of him.
Adrenaline rushed through her body as her mind automatically formulated a plan of how she could help.
"Where are you going?" Sansa asked shrilly, her face pale and her fingers white where they clutched Maliya's arm. Maliya looked down in surprise. She hadn't even realized that she had made a move to leave the carriage.
"Stay here," she ordered. Sansa was shocked into silence by the abrupt change in Maliya's voice and expression. Her face was determined, her eyes blazing with no trace of fear. "You do not put one foot outside, do you understand me?"
"Don't be ridiculous, My Lady," Lady Stark snapped in a brusque voice as she tried to comfort a wide eyed Rickon with one arm and reaching over Bran to pull Arya away from the window with the other. "It's not safe, you're going to get yourself killed – "
Maliya shook her head rapidly, feeling annoyed. "They're being attacked, we need to help them - "
"And what exactly do you plan to do?" Lady Stark interrupted, growing louder as Rickon started to cry. "Look around you, My Lady," she instructed, lowering her voice though her blue eyes still blazed fiercely. Maliya looked from the stricken Sansa who still had a death grip on her arm, to Arya, who was still glued to the window, Bran by her side. She was definitely quieter now though and watching the fight with wide eyes. Finally her eyes landed on Rickon, who didn't understand what was going on, but was growing more upset at the energy and tension in the carriage. "Your place is here."
Blue eyes locked onto her brown and a long moment passed. "Okay," Maliya sighed finally, forcing herself to turn away from the carriage door even though every instinct was telling her to dive into the fight. "Everything is going to be alright," she murmured reassuringly to Sansa. She gently pried Sansa's fingers off her arm and led her to sit down. "Your father is skilled with a sword and Ser Rodrik has prepared Robb and the others for this exact moment. If you add all the other guards, then those wildlings don't stand a chance." Sansa nodded frantically, her hand squeezing the life out of Maliya's and restricting blood flow. Maliya hid a wince, patting her hand. "Breathe, Sansa. Just breathe."
Meanwhile, Arya dashed from one window the other, dodging her mother's attempt to catch her and keep her away from the windows. "Mother - " Aryan began.
"Arya Stark, move away from the window - "
"But mother - "
"Do not make me repeat myself again, Arya - "
"But there's more wildlings, they're coming around - " A loud clash of steel interrupted her mid sentence. Maliya rushed to Arya's side to see what was happening. A handful of wildlings had snuck out from the forest on the other side and were currently engaging the guards stationed outside the carriage.
"It was a diversion!" Maliya said loudly over her shoulder to Lady Stark over the sounds of fighting coming from outside. "They're trying to get inside the carriage, what could they possibly want?"
"Food? Money? It doesn't matter, we need - " She never heard what they needed to do. There was a loud gargling yell and one of the guards went down. Another guard quickly dispatched the wildling that killed him, then dropped to one knee as another wildling danced forward and slashed his knife across his hamstring.
"Get as far away from the door as possible," Maliya ordered, prying Arya from the window once again and pushing her towards her mother. Once she was sure Lady Stark had all four kids gathered close to her, Maliya pressed her back next to the door, heart pounding and wishing fervently that she had her sword. She looked over at them and pressed a finger to her lips at the unmistakable noise of the another guard going down.
The carriage door flung open and a wildling stepped inside. Maliya was on him in a flash, grabbing the hand holding the knife and slamming it again the carriage repeatedly with gritted teeth. He dropped the knife but grabbed her wrist and twisted it, shoving her away from him and causing her to crash to the floor. Maliya let out an involuntary cry of pain, cradling her left wrist to her chest.
Sansa let out a piercing scream as the wildling approached them. Maliya crawled forward, reaching for the knife as Lady Stark sprang forward with a crazed yell, surprising the wildling as she shoved him away from her children. Maliya jumped to her feet and attacked, bringing the knife down towards the wildling. He caught her arm inches from his face, and she used his surprise to push him out of the carriage.
They toppled down the stairs with Maliya landing on top of the wildling, her injured wrist trapped between them, causing her face to twist with pain. She pushed the pain away, focusing all her energy on trying to plunge this knife into the wildlings heart. He let out a grunt, grabbing her arm with both hands to stop her. She stared down into a pair of crazed eyes, her arms shaking from exertion.
She realized in a split second that he was stronger than her and steeled herself, bringing back her left hand and punching him in the face. An involuntary cry of pain left her lips as his head snapped to the side. The punch wasn't as strong as it normally would have been, but it was the moment of distraction that she needed. With a renewed surge of energy, she pulled her arm out of his grasp and slashed the knife across his throat. Thick, hot blood sprayed across her face and chest. She shoved away her disgust, knocking away his feeble attempts to push her away as he gurgled and choked on his blood.
She would never forget that sound or the look in his eyes as the light faded out of them. She had just killed her first man.
"Maliya?" Lady Stark asked urgently from the doorway of the carriage, bringing her back to the present. Maliya staggered to her feet, keeping her left wrist close to her chest.
"Stay inside. Keep them safe," she told Lady Stark, pressing the knife into the older woman's hands and quickly closing the door. Spinning around, she took in the scene in front of her. Two of the wildlings overwhelmed one of the Stark guards and approached the carriage. She scrambled to pick up a sword from the ground, cursing under her breath. Every movement she made caused pain to shoot up her arm. Normally she would have no problem taking on two opponents, but she had never had an injury like this before or the lives of four people counting on her. She glanced around frantically to see who was closest to her and spotted Robb battling a wildling of his own.
"Robb!" She called out, refusing to acknowledge how high her voice was or how desperate she sounded. She didn't have time to see if he heard her; one of the wildlings sprang forward and then she didn't have time to think. For the first time since she started training, she was actually fighting for her life. Fiery, intoxicating adrenaline rushed through her veins as she parried and blocked, her footwork falling into a familiar dance and the pain in her wrist being pushed to the back of her mind.
The sword was heavier than her own, which hindered her speed, so she took a moment to focus more on being on the defensive to get used to the weight. She matched the wildling, parry for parry, block for block, looking for her opening until suddenly the wilding was jerked backwards, a sword thrust through his chest.
The wildling gaped down at his chest, then back up at her as the sword was pulled back through. He fell over, dead, and Maliya met Robb's intense blue eyes. "Princess? Are you alright?" He demanded, his eyes moving from the blood all over her to her injured wrist.
"I'm fi - look out!" She yelled, shoving Robb to the side as an arrow whizzed past them, right where Robb's head had just been. They both had a second to look to where the arrow was lodged in the carriage door before two more wildlings were on them.
There was an ear-splitting, primitive scream from her right and she was tackled, losing her sword and hitting the ground hard once again, the breath knocked out of her. There was a brief flash of knotted brown hair and a furious snarl before a silver glimpse of a crudely made dagger came speeding down towards her face. Thankfully her reflexes took over and she was able to catch the wildling's wrist, staring up into the face of what she thought was supposed to be a female. They grappled for a few seconds, the wildling trying to push her dagger down into Maliya's chest as she struggled to keep it at bay. She was forced to bring her injured arm up too, pain lancing all the way up to her shoulder.
With a deranged grin, the wildling placed her other hand on the handle, and the added strength forced the dagger down a few inches until the tip of the blade was pressed against her chest. Maliya didn't even feel the slight prick as it broke her skin.
Gritting her teeth, Maliya took her right hand away, only to pull it back and launch a punch that snapped the wildling's head to the side. While she was distracted, Maliya twisted the wildlings wrist, breaking it with a snap, and in the same motion, lifted her hips and twisted her body around, flipping them over so that Maliya was now on top. As she was rolling, Maliya reached her right hand down into her boot to pull out her dagger, lifted it high and plunged it into the wildlings heart.
Breathing heavily, Maliya stared down emotionlessly at the dying wildling, twisting the dagger slightly as she watched the light fade from her eyes. Only when she was sure she was dead did she roll off her on her back, panting as she stared up at the sky, holding her wrist to her chest.
The adrenaline was fading, her heartrate slowing down and the reality of what she had just done began to sink in. She had just killed two people. They had been trying to kill her, of course, but because of her, they would never breathe again. Never laugh, never smile, never hold someone that they loved. She had completely erased their existence from this world. The thought made her feel sick. Did her uncle feel this dirty, this stained after taking his first life?
Robb surveyed the aftermath of the battle with his hands on his hips. He was thankful that his father had brought such a large guard with them to the Umber wedding. Several members of their group, including himself, were exhausted and nursing terrible hangovers. The wildlings had caught them by complete surprise. It was extremely fortunate that they were a ragged, unorganized group. He shuddered when he thought of how different this could have turned out.
His eyes trailed over to his younger siblings and he shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if the wildlings had made it into the carriage. Sansa, his delicate, sensitive sister was still teary eyed and being comforted by Jory. Arya looked serious but she was talking animatedly to Bran and Jon and Rickon was in his father's arms, head buried in his shoulder. They were too young to feel the fear that they just felt, too young to see people dying.
As it was they lost several men. Theon had a gash on his leg that was getting bandaged and a few others had bumps and bruises. The most serious injury, somehow, was his wife's. His eyes found her where she was sitting with his mother, getting her wrist bandaged. Blood was spattered across her face, neck and dress. Her hair was a matted mess and her face looked concerned at whatever his mother was saying, but somehow, he still found her beautiful.
He thought back to the absolute shock that he had felt upon hearing her voice and seeing her fight against the wildlings. Even though she had been injured, her skill and experience with the blade was undeniable. Her movements were fluid, her sword arm controlled - she had obviously been training to fight for many years. Had her father taught her? Her uncle? It didn't matter. His wife knew how to handle a blade and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.
Robb watched as his father passed Rickon off to Ser Rodrik and headed towards Maliya. "Are you alright, My Lady?" He heard his father ask, crouching down by her side. Robb moved to stand by his wife's side, unsure of how his father would react.
"I'm fine, My Lord," Maliya responded, watching him warily.
"She is not fine," his mother interjected heatedly from where she was bandaging Maliya's wrist. "A highborn princess wielding a blade like a man," she muttered. Maliya winced as his mother tightened the bandage with more force than necessary, but she didn't seem to notice. "Absolutely ridiculous. Maester Luwin will have to look at her wrist, it's certainly sprained if not broken." Maliya looked affronted and wrenched open her mouth to argue. "But - " His mother continued pointedly, raising a finger to stop her. "I shudder to think what would have happened if Lady Maliya hadn't been there to stop those wildlings." Maliya's mouth snapped shut and she blinked in surprise.
His father stared at his wife for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Lord Stark!" They looked up to see a guard waving him over. His father raised a hand in acknowledgement and rose to his feet with a sigh. "We shall continue this discussion once we reach Winterfell, Lady Maliya." He looked down at Maliya, touching her briefly on the shoulder. "Until then… thank you for helping keep my family safe."
"Mother," Robb murmured in the silence that followed, stepping forward in his father's place. "May I?" He asked, indicating the bandages that she was using to wrap around Maliya's wrist.
"Of course," she nodded, handing the bandages over as she rose to her feet. "I'll go check on Rickon."
Robb sat down in his mother's place and continued to carefully bandage her wrist. Robb felt her hand tremble within his and he looked up to see her staring at her blood covered hands with wide eyes. "Princess?" He asked in a soft voice, not wanting to startle her. She didn't seem to hear him, but he thought he knew some of what was going through her mind.
He finished tying her bandage and stood to get a canteen from the carriage. She hadn't moved a muscle when he returned and only seemed to come back to herself when he gently took her hands again, pouring water out of the canteen to help clean the blood off. He felt her hands tremble once more and she clenched them into a tight fist once before opening them again. His blue eyes flickered up to hers, and she looked away, jaw working. "I've been training to fight since I was four, but I've never…. Never killed someone before."
He could tell it was a hard thing for her to say and accept, and he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Neither have I," he admitted in a low voice, still seeing the fear in the enemy's eyes when they realized they were going to die. "But it needed to be done, Maliya. If we didn't protect ourselves we were going to die." She nodded slowly, though her brow was furrowed and she still looked unconvinced. "You saved my life today. And possibly the lives of my family so… thank you."
"You're welcome," she whispered, pulling her hands away from his own. "I don't know if I could have kept them safe if you hadn't stepped in to help me. So it really should be me thanking you."
The guilt was eating away at him. "Look, Princess, about last night – my behavior was abhorrent and inexcusable. I should never have laid my hands on you like that or spoken to you in that way. My parents didn't raise me to behave that way, and they would have been ashamed to hear what I did. I am deeply sorry for angering and offending you and I can promise you that I will do everything within my power to make sure that never happens again." His words were spoken honestly and sincerely and he watched the surprise flick across her face. "But… I can't have you flirting with other men, Maliya. Not only do I hate seeing it, but it makes both our relationship and our position seem weak."
Her brown eyes searched his slowly and deliberately and he saw a look of chagrin cross her face. "You're right," she admitted after a moment, nodding. "It was wrong of me to do that, and I apologize. I appreciate your apology as well. I know what it takes for a man to admit to his mistakes and I can respect that. I shouldn't have let my anger take me over and I'm sorry I hit you." The fierce look was back in her eye. "But I won't tolerate being spoken to like that, especially not by a man who is supposed to be my husband."
A rueful smile crossed Robb's face. "Your uncle said as much the night of our wedding. He said that you were no ordinary woman and that you had an unrivaled temper that I did not want to find myself on the other side of."
Robb's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Maliya let out a clear, tinkling laugh, the first genuine emotion he'd seen from her since they'd known each other. He realized he found the sound quite beautiful. "That sounds like something my uncle would say," she chuckled as her laughter died down. "He's not wrong, you know."
"No," he agreed, shaking his head. "But apparently, I was. I didn't know you could fight like that."
Her smile faded quickly. "There's a lot that you don't know about me, because you never bothered to try," she snapped. She sighed the next second, wiping a weary hand across her eyes. "Sorry, let me try that again," she muttered. She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "When I was training, nothing else mattered. All my feelings and trivial worries faded into the background and all that was left was me and my opponent. When I fight, I'm not a Princess of Dorne or the daughter of Doran Martell…. I'm just me." She chuckled humorlessly. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes," he nodded, watching her as she continued.
"Since being here, I've felt like I've been locked away. I didn't mention that I knew how to fight because women in the north aren't supposed to." She looked away sadly. "It has been really difficult only being a part of myself."
"What have we been doing?" He asked, mystified, shaking his head. "I feel like our anger and general feeling of unfairness has made us unhappy with our current situation, and we've been taking that out on each other. I don't want to continue this way, Maliya, I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life. If you're willing to work with me, I would like to start over. To make an attempt to get to know one another better, to be open and honest in our communications and to give all of our efforts into making this marriage work."
A small smile graced her lips, bringing a strong feeling of relief rushing through him. "I think I would like that," she murmured, holding out her hand. "Hi, my name is Maliya."
"Hello, Maliya," Robb smiled back, eyes twinkling as he took her hand and gently pressed a kiss to the back of it. "My name is Robb. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Maliya's thoughts were jumbled and conflicted for the rest of the day. She kept seeing the two wildlings that she killed in her mind's eye, causing her mood to be sad and solemn. Yet on the other hand, her open and honest conversation with Robb had surprisingly lifted her spirits, giving her a feeling of hope and determination. Things had changed between them, and she was pretty sure it was for the better.
But this feeling of hope and relief regarding her marriage with Robb was perplexing. The only reason she was in this situation in the first place was because she was looking to get revenge for her family. The Starks had helped the Baratheons and the Lannisters during Robert's Rebellion – they were the reason she was an orphan! So why did she care if her marriage with Robb was going badly?
The question ate at her, worrying her and making her feel like she was inadequate. Like she had already failed her mission.
Their ride home was a subdued blur. It took them a while to recover after the attack. Arya kept gazing at her with an awe-like expression, having watched her through the glass, but Sansa couldn't even meet her eye. Maliya tried to ignore them all, but it was difficult to do when you were stuck in the same carriage as them for multiple hours.
She didn't think her day could possibly get any worse, but once again, fate seemed determined to prove her wrong. As soon as they rode inside the walls of Winterfell, Maester Luwin walked out of the castle doors, a letter in his hand and a grave expression on his face.
"From King's Landing, My Lord," Maester Luwin told Lord Stark, handing it to him before he even dismounted from his horse.
Lord Stark opened the letter and read it quickly. Maliya watched his face darken at the news and when he finished reading, he shared a swift look with Lady Stark. Maliya couldn't understand what the look meant, but Lady Stark must have because her expression matched his.
"What is it, father?" Robb asked from his horse, a look of concern on his face.
What Lord Stark said next made Maliya's heart pound in her chest, each beat spreading hatred throughout her body, her fists clenched at her side. "The King and his family are on their way to Winterfell."
Author's Note: Oh man, shit's about to go down! We're about to dive down the rabbit hole that is Season 1, so buckle your seatbelts. If there's anything you wanted to see from Season 1 that never ended up happening, let me know! What do you think of how Maliya and Robb's relationship is progressing? Does it seem realistic enough?
Thank you for supporting me and my story! Don't forget to leave a review!
Guest 1 – Thanks for the review and the compliments! I'm so glad you think everyone's in character : )
Lisa – Thank you! Maliya is one of the most interesting and conflicted characters I've ever written and I'm glad you're appreciating her.
Guest 2 = Thanks for your review! Haha as crazy as it sounds, I usually get over a thousand views for each chapter but less than 20 reviews! So I'm grateful to all of you that take the time to review!
Guest 3 – Thanks, here's the next update!
Guest 4 – Thank youuuu, I hope you like this next chapter : )