Author's Note: Hey everybody! First I'd like to thank everybody who reviewed, favorited or followed my story! Especially Maddie Rose and Dannylionthe1st for being great betas!
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Chapter 6: More Surprises
Maliya sat sullenly in Lord Stark's office, watching him pace back and forth in front of her. It had been several days since they returned from the Umber wedding, and Maliya had been dreading this moment ever since. A flash of resentment rushed through her at the situation she was in. Lord Stark was not her father, so why did it feel like she was sitting here waiting for a lecture or a punishment?
When Lord Stark finally stopped pacing, he turned to face her, leaning back against his desk with a solemn face. "How are you doing?"
Maliya, who had been inwardly bracing herself for a long-winded reprimand, faltered with a stunned blink. "What?" She asked uncertainly, unsure if you had heard him correctly.
There was an understanding look in his eye as he continued. "Robb told me that you had never killed anyone before the attack three days ago." His face was gravely serious. "I know what that can do to a person, and I'm sorry that I haven't talked with you sooner."
Maliya was flabbergasted, thrown off balance by both his apology and his obvious concern for her, and a part of her was angry with him for it. He was supposed to be the bad guy in this situation. He was the one who helped Robert fucking Baratheon overthrow her family, he was the one who had murdered Targaryen soldiers. What in the seven hells did he care about her for?
The automatic words, 'I'm fine,' were on the tip of her tongue, but something in his openly patient face must have caught her off guard because what spilled out instead was the truth. "I see them sometimes," she admitted, looking down as she played with the bandages on her wrist. "When I close my eyes. I hear… I hear the sounds of them dying, I can't –" She broke off abruptly, snapping her mouth shut. She didn't know or trust Lord Stark well enough to tell him her most terrifying and disturbing secret of all.
That when the bloodlust had taken her over, she had relished their pain and their deaths.
He examined her face for a long moment. "Does it upset you, that you killed those wildlings?"
"Yes," Maliya answered immediately and honestly. "It's a terrifying thing knowing you have the ability to end someone's life," she continued slowly, but when she looked up at him again her eyes were hard. "It upsets me, but I don't regret it."
Lord Stark nodded. "When the killing numbs you, when you start not to care who or what you kill, that is when you should begin to worry about your humanity. Taking someone's life stains your soul; it's not something you can ever recover from." Maliya was astonished at his open honesty, but she was grateful that he was actually treating her like an adult whereas her father would have given her the lecture of a century. "You were very courageous that day, My Lady. There are not many people who would willingly charge headlong into battle to try and save people they've only known for a fortnight. So thank you, for coming to help us."
Maliya squirmed uncomfortably under his grateful look, but refused to look away, saying the words that she knew were appropriate in this situation. "Your family is my family now, Lord Stark. Of course I would do anything to protect them."
"All the same…. Women do not fight here in the North," he announced, still watching her closely.
Maliya's nails dug into the back of her hands as she struggled to maintain her composure. "I've heard the Mormont women fight, is that correct?"
"Yes," Lord Stark conceded, nodding slowly. "They fight out of necessity. The Mormont men are often out to sea fishing and Bear Island is often attacked by the ironborn. They need to learn how to fight in order to protect themselves and their home." He paused. "You enjoy fighting."
"I do," Maliya admitted defiantly, lifting her chin slightly. "My father didn't approve much of my fighting, but my Uncle agreed to teach me when I begged him to and I was really, really good at it. I know your women here do not fight, but it is such a part of me…. Don't ask me to stop. I don't want to disappoint you – "
"Be calm, dear girl," Lord Stark interrupted her in a reassuring voice. "I am not going to ask you to give up fighting." Maliya released a shaky breath of relief. "While I admit that my reaction to seeing you in battle may not have been the best, I would like to explain it. For me, it was a hopeless sense of déjà vu."
Maliya tilted her head to the side with a confused frown. "What do you mean?"
"You reminded me of your aunt, Princess Elia." Maliya's heart nearly stopped in her chest at the mention of her mother and she found herself waiting with bated breath to hear what he was going to say next. "I knew that King Aerys was holding her and her children hostage, but by the time that the battle was finished I was too late. Your aunt and her two, innocent children were already gone."
"Murdered," Maliya corrected with a flash of anger and a cold voice.
His mouth tightened at the word but he nodded, accepting it. "Murdered," he repeated. "When I saw you in the battle, I feared that history was about to repeat itself. I'm not asking you to give up fighting, My Lady, but I am going to ask you to be smart about it."
"Alright," Maliya murmured, looking thoughtful. "I don't expect to find myself in anymore battles, My Lord." Her mind was whirling, her stream of thoughts landing on one very obvious, very painful conclusion that sent her whole world spinning. "You're not responsible for their deaths," she whispered, her eyes widening slightly. "You're not responsible for their deaths," she repeated louder, looking up at him.
Lord Stark had sided with Robert Baratheon in the war that had destroyed her family. But her family, her own grandfather, had murdered his father and brother. He was avenging the deaths of his family, but she was finally able to see that he wasn't the cause of hers.
It was Robert Baratheon who had killed her father.
It was Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch who had killed her mother, brother and fake Rhaenys.
And it was Tywin Lannister who had given the orders.
She had been so blinded by her anger and her need for revenge that she was just willing to blame anyone involved in the war. It was plain to see that Lord Stark is a kind, decent and honorable man and the deaths of her family had been vile, cruel and unnecessary.
"My father and uncle say that Tywin Lannister ordered Clegane and Lorch to kill my aunt and her children." Maliya's words were delivered nonchalantly, but she was carefully searching him for any and all reactions.
There was the briefest flicker of something in Lord Stark's eyes, but it was gone quickly as his face darkened. "That rumor has never been officially proven," he said in a low voice. "I would keep that to yourself, Lady Maliya, especially when the king and his family come to visit. Those words can prove very dangerous." He paused, thinking carefully. "Ever since the war… your father and your uncle have not hidden their hunger for revenge or their hatred of the Lannisters. I hope you do not share their sentiments."
Maliya tilted her head to the side, opening her brown eyes wider for an innocent look. "Do you not blame the Targaryens for the murder of your father and brother?"
"No," Lord Stark answered honestly, shaking his head with a mixture of sadness and frustration in his eyes. "It was King Aerys' order – he would watch someone burn if he had even an inkling that they were going to betray him."
Maliya nodded slowly, unsure what to think about this sickening news about her grandfather. Lord Stark was watching her expectantly so she filed that information away for later perusal. ""I'm not going to lie to you, Lord Stark. Knowing that my family's murderers are still out there and have never been punished for the crimes that they have committed, makes me incredibly angry and sad. But I'm not stupid and won't do anything to endanger you or your family, I swear it. Besides, what is a girl of eight and ten going to do against one of the most powerful men in Westeros?" Maliya chuckled in her attempt to dissipate the tension from the room.
It worked. A kind smile crossed Lord Stark's face, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he changed the subject. "So… how are things between you and my son?"
Maliya froze at the unexpected question, her eyes widening. "I – things are fine, My Lord," she said uncertainly, attempting to smile back at him. "Better than they were," she added, thinking back to their conversation after the fight with the wildlings.
And they were. It was still awkward, to be sure, because they still didn't know much about eachother, but no longer did they actively avoid being alone in the same room as one another.
His smile grew. "I am glad. Robb's a good lad, and I think you will be good for him."
Maliya wasn't so sure. Uncomfortable with this conversation, she changed the topic once more. "My Lord, I heard about the death of Jon Arryn. I've heard that you two were close and I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." His normally cold grey eyes were soft and kind as he looked upon her and Maliya was so bewildered by all the revelations from this one conversation that she felt like the world was spinning. "Please know, Lady Maliya, that if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me." She nodded, smiling at him as she stood and headed for the door. "Oh, My Lady?" She turned. "I know my daughter very well. Arya is going to ask you to learn how to fight with a sword and I am going to request that you refrain from doing so. It's a work in progress, but Lady Stark and I are still attempting to turn her into a Lady of Winterfell."
Maliya walked back to her chambers in a daze, her mind not sure what to focus on first: the fact that a part of her actually seemed to like and respect Lord Stark. The fact that her grandfather was a sadistic psychopath who liked to murder people when he felt like it, or the fact that she found she no longer blamed Lord Stark for the death of her family.
One thing she knew for certain, however. She no longer wanted revenge against the Starks and as a result she had no idea what she was doing here anymore. All that was left was her… marriage.
No, Maliya scolded herself, as she let herself into her and Robb's bedchambers. I will not give up! Lord Stark still has close ties with my enemies and I can use that to my advantage! I will not admit defeat to my uncle and my father. I refuse.
But how? Another voice whispered. You're stuck so far in the North that you might as well be on the opposite end of the world.
The Lannisters and the Baratheons will be here in the next couple of weeks, she reminded herself, the thought making her feel better already. Things are already being set in motion with the castle hurrying to prepare for their arrival. That was true enough. The servants could be seen scrubbing parts of the castle that probably hadn't been cleaned in a dozen years.
A quick glance around the room showed that Robb wasn't here. She drifted over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it with a sigh. She should write home to her father about what she had learned and ask why in the seven hells they hadn't told her about her grandfather. They hadn't told her much about her family, actually. Part of that could be because they were trying to protect her, but she suspected that it was because they didn't know much about her family. King's Landing was far from Dorne and while they might have been close with her mother before she married Rhaegar, Maliya suspected that once she moved away they didn't visit her all that often. They had probably only met her father a handful of times and probably never met her brother considering he was only a few months old.
She should really learn more about her own family bloodline. Maybe the Stark library would have some books that she could research.
As her mind jumped from one thought to another, her eyes fell upon a box resting on top of the dresser. She stood, slowly walking over to pick up the box and opened it. Her eyes caught the beautiful silver sun resting inside, her fingertips lightly tracing her engagement present from Robb. Even though it was a confusing gift considering she was technically no longer a Martell, and even though Robb was angry when he gave it to her, it really was a very thoughtful present.
And too beautiful to be sitting in this box, unused. Maliya carefully lifted it out of the box, reaching behind her to clasp the necklace closed. It was a longer chain than she expected, but that was probably a good thing. When she shook her hair out, the sun rested perfectly between her breasts next to her heart, hidden beneath her dress.
She shivered as the cold metal hit her skin, and smiled at the irony of a cold sun.
The door behind her opened and she looked over to see her husband enter the room, his fur winter coat on and a brown basket in his hand. "Hello, Princess," he greeted, with a small smile. Maliya smiled back, still trying to get used to the fact that his bright blue eyes were no longer emotionless or full of contempt when he looked at her. "How did it go with my father?"
"Surprisingly well," Maliya answered, turning to face him more fully. "Conversations with your father are a lot less painful than the lectures with mine." Her gaze fell to the basket and her expression turned curious. "What's that for?"
Robb shrugged, his face growing cautious and uncertain. "I wasn't sure how the meeting was going to go, so I packed a lunch for us and I was thinking of taking you to one of my favorite spots in Winterfell."
"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, her eyes widening, not wanting to acknowledge the small flip in her stomach at the surprisingly thoughtful gesture. "Really?" She asked, not knowing what to say or how to act. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous?
"Nevermind," Robb suddenly said, shaking his head, his cheeks slightly pink. "It was a stupid idea, I don't know what I was thinking – "
"No, no!" Maliya hurried to assure him, wanting to hit herself for making him second-guess himself. "I – I think I would like that. To go on a picnic with you, I mean."
Seven hells, this shouldn't be so awkward.
Maliya blinked at the breathtaking smile that crossed his face. "Good!" He strode over to their wardrobe and grabbed her winter cloak, tossing it to her and accidentally hitting her in the face with it.
She threw a halfhearted glare at him as she pulled it away, but her lips twitched as he chuckled at both her expression and her slightly mussed hair. He walked over as she slipped the cloak around her shoulders, stopping in front of her. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he carefully reached up and moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Ready?" He asked, still smiling slightly.
"Yeah, uh – yes," Maliya stammered, clearing her throat. Pull yourself together!
"After you," he said gracefully, gesturing to the door.
"Thank you," Maliya murmured, with another quick glance up at him. She walked outside of their bedchambers and then paused, turning to look at him. "Umm.. I don't know where we're going."
"Oh, right." Robb sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "After me, then, I guess."
Robb stepped around her and began to lead the way, and Maliya followed. She caught herself smiling at his awkwardness and frowned. What was wrong with her?
Robb led her outside of the castle and around to the right, a direction that she had never been before. As they walked, Maliya caught sight of a tall, strangely shaped tower. When she squinted up in closer examination, however, she realized that the top two thirds of the tower had broken inwards. "What happened to this building?" Maliya asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Robb glanced over at her and then up at the building in question. "Lightning struck it over a hundred years ago and it caught fire. They were able to eventually put it out, but for some reason no one's bothered to rebuild it." His voice is unconcerned as he waves her on. "Come on, our destination is right up – BRANDON STARK!" He barked, making Maliya jump in alarm, looking around with wide eyes. A flash of movement caught her eye and her jaw dropped in amazement when she followed Robb's gaze and caught Bran running on top of the outer wall of the castle. He had slowed at the sound of his brother's voice, and though he was far away, Maliya thought she saw a chagrined look on his face when he realized he'd been caught. "Get down here!" Robb called, a stern look on his face. "Now."
Maliya watched with bated breath as Bran quickly and skillfully climbed down the wall, using footholds that she couldn't quite see. Robb actually put his hands on his hips as Bran approached him, and Maliya had to hide a smile behind her hand at how much he looked like his father.
"Robb – " Bran tried to say but Robb cut him off.
"No excuses this time, Bran," Robb interrupted. "I have heard you promise mother that you would stop climbing time and time again. It's dangerous, and you could get seriously hurt if you fall!"
Bran rolled his eyes in annoyance. "But Robb, I've never fallen!"
"Never?" Maliya repeated incredulously, raising her eyebrows.
"Not once," Bran grinned at her, puffing his chest out proudly. Robb threw her an exasperated look that said, 'You're not helping,' and she shut her mouth, stemming her astonishment. Bran caught the look and turned to Robb to say in a small, innocent voice, "You're not going to tell mother, are you?"
Robb gazed down at Bran's big, pleading brown eyes and even Maliya could see him waver. He heaved a sigh and passed a tired hand over his eyes, and while he did so, Bran's lips twitched. He knew that he had won. "No," Robb admitted, opening his eyes as Bran tried to rearrange his face into a contrite expression. "Run along. But don't let me catch you on those walls again!" He shouted after Bran who had wasted no time hurrying away from them both.
"What?" Robb asked as he glanced at her and caught the amused look in her eyes.
She grinned up at him as they continued on their way. "That boy can persuade you to do anything and everything, couldn't he?" She asked in a knowing voice.
"As much as I hate to admit it, yes," Robb sighed in a defeated voice. "They all could."
"It is nothing to be ashamed of," Maliya assured him. "My little brother once persuaded me to sneak him out of lessons so we could explore the caves down by the water. My father was furious, of course, but I was the one who was punished more severely because I was older and should have known better."
Robb smiled at her. "It sounds as if your brother and Bran would get along quite well."
Maliya's own smile turned sad. "Yes. Bran is a few years younger than Trystane but he reminds me of him very much."
"This is it," Robb says suddenly as they come to a stop in front of a decently sized building made out of glass.
He holds the door open for her and when Maliya steps inside, she cannot stop the gasp that escapes her or her eyes from widening in wonder. "What is this place?" She asked breathlessly.
"One of the glass gardens here at Winterfell," Robb answered, watching her reaction closely and seeming pleased by it. "The glass was imported from Myr, the clearness of it allows the sunlight to stream through, and the hot springs beneath Winterfell run directly underneath here, keeping it warm."
And it certainly was warm. Feeling extremely delighted, she dazedly took off her cloak as she walked forward slowly, looking around. The glass garden was larger than she would have thought, but besides the warmth of the place, the first thing that she noticed was the color. There was the bright green of the leaves, as well as an assortment of colors from the fruits and vegetables that were growing here. Robb followed her as she walked through, breathing in the mingled hearthy smell. Brightly colored flowers that she didn't recognize lined the outer walls of the gardens, but in the center of the greenhouse was a small tree that twisted in a unique way, gorgeous red flowers dangling from it's leaves and a small area of green grass surrounding it.
"My parents planted this tree around the time that I was born," Robb told her, breaking the silence once more. "It's from the south, supposedly, so they planted it in here so it could grow in a warm environment. Once the plants are weeded and watered in the mornings, it becomes a very quiet place and I often come here if I need to think or be alone."
"And you're showing it to me?" Maliya asked, turning to fully face him, feeling touched beyond words.
Robb nodded, looking uncertain once more. "You're my wife," he said simply. "Things between us have been better since our talk a few days ago, but it still felt awkward. I was trying to think of a way to erase that between us, and I figured letting you get to see a side of me that not many people know about may be a start in the right direction."
"Thank you, Robb," Maliya told him sincerely, still feeling quite shocked at his thoughtfulness. "I don't quite know what to say." He smiled at her then, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "What?" She asked.
"That's the first time you've really said my name," he told her in a low voice. "I think I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth." Maliya flushed, looking away. "Are you hungry?" He asked, noticing her discomfort and changing the subject.
"Yes," Maliya answered, following Robb as he placed the basket on the grass and pulled out a small blanket. He spread it on the ground and sat down on it, looking up at her and patting the space next to him with a grin. She sat next to him, placing her cloak beside her, and watched as he pulled out two plates as well as honeyed chicken, fresh baked bread, an assortment of nuts and berries and lemon cakes for desert. She looked around at her surroundings, at her husband and at the food. "This is all very… romantic," she told him in a soft voice.
Robb snorted and shook his head, his eyes still focused on serving the food. "You're a beautiful princess from Dorne, I'm sure this is nothing compared to what actual princes have done to try and woo you."
It was Maliya's turn to give an unladylike snort this time as she tried not to focus on the fact that he had just called her beautiful. "I'm afraid there's not much romance in Dorne. Women are free to do as they please and the so-called princes do no more than leer at my body and actively try to get into my skirts. If there was ever any attempt at romance, it was with that endgoal in mind."
"Yes, I know that plan well," Robb teased, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Maliya let out a surprised laugh, playfully pushing his arm. Robb watched her laugh with a smile. He continued when she quieted, his expression serious. "You deserve romance, Maliya, every woman does. I know we're married, and I know…certain things are expected of us. But if you want, if it's easier, we can just focus on becoming friends."
Maliya looked up at his open, earnest face as he waited for her answer, then examined how she was feeling about what was happening. "Friends. I think I would like that," she told him, hesitating for a moment before continuing slowly. "But… I also wouldn't mind more of these little romantic moments," she grinned, plucking a berry off her plate and popping it into her mouth. "Especially if they involve food."
"Alright," Robb nodded, picking up his own plate. "We'll take it slow then, get to know one another and see what happens."
"What's your favorite color?" Maliya asked, thinking of the first question that came to mind. She smiled, watching him as he took her silly question seriously.
"I would have to say blue," he answered after a moment. "But not just any blue, the blue of the sky after a long winter storm – don't make that face!" He laughed as he caught her wrinkled nose.
"I'm sorry!" She chuckled, shaking her head. "It's just that when I hear winter storm I think of white, cold, wet things falling out of the sky… it's unnatural."
His blue eyes were full of humor. "Actually, it's a perfectly natural occurrence up here in the North. I can't wait until you see the first snowfall." His voice held a barely contained excitement and his eyes had a faraway look at them. "When it snows, there's a certain stillness to the air and time seems to stand still. The best part though, is when you wake up the next morning and there's a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The five of us always race outside before we even break our fast."
"To do what?" Maliya asked, mystified.
"Anything," Robb shrugged. "Arya and Bran will usually start a snowball fight but Sansa and Rickon like to build these big forts things out of snow."
"Forts?" Maliya repeated, only growing more confused as she tried to picture it.
"Well, yeah. They usually pile the snow as high as they can, pack it down and then dig a hole that leads inside. Sometimes mother will let them eat inside. When Sansa was younger she used to try and make the little ones play house. Arya hated it. It usually turned into a big fight and one or both of the girls would end up crying."
And even as he said it, he was smiling as the memories came back to him. "You really love them," she observed, tilting her head to the side.
"I'd do anything for them," he responded immediately, no hesitation in his voice. He grinned as she absently picked up a lemoncake and began nibbling on it. "What about you? What's your favorite color?"
"Red," Maliya answered after a moment's thought. She cast her mind around for a beautiful description like the one he gave her, but the only thing that came to mind was, 'like the color of blood.' Casting that morbid thought aside, she pointed up into the trees. "Like the flowers on your tree."
Shifting onto his knees, Robb stretched up and plucked a flower from the branches. He twirled it for a second, bringing to his nose to sniff before hesitantly shifting closer to her. Maliya held perfectly still, unconsciously holding her breath as he reached over and brushed her hair behind her ear so he could place the flower there.
He was too close. She could smell his slightly woodsy, somehow winter scent and she could see the somewhat darker flecks of blue in his already bright blue eyes. His breath ghosted across her face and she knew that if she leaned in just a couple of inches, she would be close enough to kiss him.
"When's your birthday?" She blurted out instead, looking away from him and distracting herself by picking up the leg of chicken.
Robb didn't seem disappointed at her change of subject, he just shifted back to his seat and resumed eating. "The thirteenth day in September. Just a couple more months and I'll be seven and ten. What about you?"
"The 25th of December," she answered, her heart rate finally slowing down.
"Tell me more about your family."
And she did, gladly. "Arianne's the oldest. She's beautiful, adventurous, fierce tempered and not afraid to go after what she wants. She also the person who used to calm me after a nightmare and the person I turn to when I need help. Quentyn is two years my elder, but I don't remember much about him. He was sent to the Yronwoods to be fostered when I was younger. Trystane is the youngest, he's only one and ten. He's mischievous and playful, but also shy around other people and he has a strong sense of duty for someone his age. My Uncle Oberyn is – "
"One of the most intimidating men I've ever met," Robb interrupted with a serious expression and a pretend shudder for effect.
Maliya grinned, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that's true, but he's also one of the best fighters in all of Westeros, has a laid back attitude with just about everything and is fiercely loyal to his family. The Sand Snakes are his bastard daughters. He has eight of them – "
"Eight daughters?" Robb repeated, eyes wide with disbelief an alarm.
"Believe me, he frequently complains about being surrounded by women," Maliya smiled fondly. "But his three oldest, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene, they're the ones I'm closest to. They're crude and crass, experienced, not afraid to speak their minds and not someone you want to face on a battlefield."
"What about your mother?" Robb asked, setting his plate off to the side and leaning back on his hands. "I've never heard you mention her."
Maliya knew he meant Mellario, but it was Elia who popped into her mind. The sad smile on her face was genuine as she answered him. "My mother was… I don't really remember her much," she answered truthfully. "My father says that she never recovered from Quentyn being sent away. She never grew used to Dorne's customs and ended up moving back to her home town in Norvos."
"I'm sorry," Robb told her quietly. "That must have been very difficult for you and your siblings."
"Especially Trystane," she nodded. "He doesn't remember her at all." With a sigh, she put her plate to the side as well and flopped onto her back on the blanket, staring up into the tree. "It's funny, you know. My mother and father married for love and look how their marriage turned out – with both of them in completely different countries." She snorted derisively.
"How did your father take it?" He asked her, mimicking her position and lacing his fingers behind his head. "When she… left." He awkwardly finished, obviously unsure how to phrase that politely.
"My father isn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, per say, but I can tell that it still upsets him."
"I can imagine that it does," Robb agreed quietly. "What else is he like? Your father, I mean."
"He's…." she trailed off, struggling to find adequate words to describe the man who meant the world to her. "Kind, patient, fair, wise… he always knows the right thing to do or say, even if it does take him forever and a day to come to a decision."
"He sounds like a great man," Robb told her, his head twisting to the right so he could look at her. "I hope I get the chance to meet him one day. To meet all your family."
A wide smile crossed her face. "I hope so too." She changed the subject to lighter topics, regaling him of tales of her childhood. They talked and laughed for hours until the sun began to set and the glass garden began to darken. Maliya marveled at how easy the conversation flowed between the two of them and how much things had changed in one day. It lifted her spirits more than she thought it would.
"And which one of you was a marksmen at ten?" Lord Stark called down from the second floor balcony where he was watching the proceedings with Lady Stark next to him. "Keep practicing, Bran," he encouraged.
Maliya grinned as Robb and Jon were effectively put into their place, the laughter wiped from their faces. Bran was practicing his archery and had just missed the target for the second time. Rickon was sitting on a post next to the boys, but Maliya was watching from her spot on the fence at the back of the ring. Jon and Robb converged on Bran to offer him advice as he picked his next arrow so they didn't see Arya sneak out of the building and quietly grab her own bow and arrow.
She raised a finger to her lips as Maliya looked over to her from where she took her stance behind the fence next to her. Maliya grinned as Arya drew back the bow and let if fly just before Bran's did. The arrow hit the center of the target, of course, stunning the boys as they looked around in surprise, laughing as Arya took a small, teasing curtsy.
"Arya!" Bran yelled, dropping his bow and running after her. Maliya hopped down from the fence as she watched them chase each other and went to go help the others gather the stray arrows.
"How did Arya learn to shoot like that?" She heard Jon ask as she approached.
"I think somebody has been giving her private lessons," Robb told him, glancing over at Maliya with a significant look.
Maliya looked shocked. "How did you know?"
Robb rolled his eyes. "You two are not as sneaky as you think you are."
"I might have given her one or two pointers," Maliya grudgingly admitted. Both Jon and Robb became distracted by something over her shoulder and she turned to see Theon approaching with a solemn expression on his face for once.
"What is it?" Robb asked, knowing something was wrong.
"Saddle up. There's been a deserter from the Night's Watch and your father wants you there. Oi! Bran!" Bran breathlessly abandoned his chased and ran up to them, panting. "Get your horse ready. He wants you there as well."
Bran's face sobered instantly, his eyes widening in what Maliya thought might be fear. Picking up on the sudden tension, Maliya glanced between all of them, her brow furrowed in confusion. "A deserter? What does that have to do with you?"
"When this deserter fled from the Night's Watch, he became an oathbreaker," Jon started to explain.
"Alright…" Maliya said slowly, still not understanding what that had to do with the rest of them.
"As Warden of the North, it's my father's job to take care of the deserter," Robb continued, trying to explain it in a delicate way.
At Maliya's continuously clueless look, Theon rolled his eyes. "It's Lord Stark's duty to kill any oathbreakers from the Night's Watch," he said bluntly, ignoring Robb's sharp glance. "He has us come along to teach us a lesson of some sort."
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Robb finished in a grim voice. Maliya nodded. That she understood – there was Lord Stark's unfailing sense of justice and honor that she has heard so much about. She bit her tongue however, when it came to Bran. She believed ten years old was a little too young to see his first killing. She wouldn't have wanted Trystane to witness something like this, not for a year or two at least. Let him enjoy his childhood for as long as he could.
"I want to come too!" Rickon shouted, pushing his way into their group with a determined, angry look on his face. "Bran's only a little bit older than I am."
"It's not your time yet, Rick," Robb tried to explain to him in a gentle voice. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You need to stay here with – "
"I don't WANT to stay here with the stupid girls!" Rickon exploded, shoving Robb's hand away. He had obviously heard this argument before and glared up at them all defiantly, contrasting sharply with the tears they could see filling his eyes. "It isn't fair!" He yelled, before shoving Bran out of the way and running off.
Robb sighed and made to go after him, but Theon caught him with a hand to the chest. "There's no time, Stark. Your father's expecting us."
"You go on," Maliya urged them, though she was looking up at Robb. "I'll find him."
"Thank you," he murmured softly, the back of his hand brushing hers as his blue eyes shone with gratitude.
Maliya gave him and a small smile and a wave as they walked off to the stables to saddle their horses before she turned and went to look for Rickon. She searched for him everywhere. In his chambers, in the Great Hall, the library, everywhere! Huffing in annoyance and wishing that she knew his secret haunts, Maliya made her way back outside and was just about to give up when she froze, certain that she heard a noise coming out of the crypts of all places.
She hesitated outside the door. After her last venture down there and the strange feeling that she gets whenever she passes by it, she had just avoided the place all together. Now though, she was almost positive that she heard the echo of a sniffle coming up through the partially open door. "Hello?" She called down the stairs, creeping closer. "Rickon?"
There was no answer, but there was the definite sound of another sniffle. Muttering darkly under her breath, she picked up her skirts and began her descent down the stairs. Luckily, Rickon appeared to only be on the first floor, because as she paused before the landing that led farther down, she felt that inexplicable pull that wanted her to continue down the staircase.
She pushed it away in annoyance and continued down the corridor, past the statues of the older Lords of Winterfell until she found Rickon between Brandon and Lyanna Stark. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his arms around his knees, but he looked up as she approached, the tear tracks visible on his cheeks. "Hi," she said softly, joining him on the dirt floor. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright?"
He rubbed his sleeve across his nose. "I'm going to be six soon, it's not fair! Robb and Jon help father around the castle, Sansa helps mother, Arya doesn't like to do anything," he muttered in a low voice. "And now Bran gets to help with the deserter! They say I'm too little."
Maliya thought he looked adorable when he pouted like that, but she wasn't about to say that out loud. "I hate to tell you this Rickon, but you are too little – oh don't look at me like that!" She chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulders and bringing him close to ruffle his hair. "Believe me, you don't want to grow up too fast. If it were up to me I would stay your age forever!"
He sniffled again, looking up at her dubiously. "Why? What's so great about being little?"
"Well," Maliya began, a grin on her face as she spoke in an animated voice. "For one thing kids your age are fun and have a great imagination whereas adults are boring and only care about politics and marriage. For another, you probably never get in trouble, right?"
Rickon's lips twitched. "Mother says they should know better."
"You know how I know that?" She whispered conspiratorially. "Because my father used to say the same thing to me whenever me and my younger brother got in trouble!" He giggled at the outraged expression on her face. "But you wanna know the best part about being your age?"
"What?" He asked, his tears now beginning to dry.
"You can eat all the lemoncakes and cookies you want and never get fat!" She grinned as he laughed once more, seeming to forget about the earlier incident.
"Mother is always telling father to stop eating sweets," Rickon told her, his giggles dying down. He looked up at her with his wide, bright eyes. "Thanks Maliya. I'm sorry I called you a stupid girl. And I'm glad that you're married to my brother, even if you do play bedroom games without me." Maliya let out a surprised laugh as Rickon grinned and threw his arms around her. Her heart swelled at his affection and she pressed a trembling kiss to the top of his head.
She never stood a chance against this little boy.
"Come on," she finally said, breaking the silence and pulling away. "Let's get out of here, this place is creepy. Why did you have hide out here of all places?" She complained, standing and helping him to his feet.
"I like it," he shrugged, taking her hand and not letting go. "It's quiet down here."
"Really? You don't think this place has a weird… feeling to it?" She asked nonchalantly as they passed the staircase once more and headed up.
"No, why?"
"No reason," she answered, wondering what in the seven hells was wrong with her. How come she felt this… whatever it was and other people didn't?
"What's going on here?" Maliya looked up as they left the crypts and saw Lady Stark standing there, her eyes moving from Maliya to Rickon and down to where he still held her hand.
She felt Rickon shift uncomfortably and hurried to think of an explanation that wouldn't embarrass him. "Oh, I had asked Rickon to show me the – "
"It's okay, Maliya," Rickon interrupted her, looking up with a reassuring smile before letting go of her hand and walking towards his mother. "I was angry because Robb wouldn't let me go with father. But Maliya found me and I think I'm okay with being a kid for a little longer." He gave them both a bright smile. "I'm going to go see if Arya wants to play." And with that he took off.
Lady Stark turned to Maliya with a puzzled look. "I'm… not quite sure I understood half of what he said, but I know how Rickon can be when he's angry. So thank you, for whatever you did."
"It's no big deal," Maliya answered, attempting to brush it off. "I have a younger brother, I know how they can be."
"All the same, I appreciate your help." Lady Stark was silent for a moment, just examining her with those icy blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. "Would you like to start that lesson about what it means to be the Lady of Winterfell?"
"I'd love to," Maliya told her graciously, smiling.
She followed Lady Stark around the castle as she explained the different duties of being the new Lady of Winterfell, which turned out to be just as boring as it sounds. Besides the obvious of caring for the children (Maliya nearly fainted at that part), most of her duties consisted of keeping track of the household, watching over the servants, preparing the menu for the kitchens, etc. Maliya forced herself to pay attention, knowing that her father would want her to continue to repair her relationship with her good mother, especially if she was in this marriage for the long haul.
After an extremely long, indeterminable time Arya and Rickon came flying passed them down the corridor, yelling excitedly. "Arya! Rickon! How many times have I told you – " Lady Stark started to scold them.
"They're back!" Arya shouted, voice laced with enthusiasm. "Father's back!"
Lady Stark sighed as they raced off once more but Maliya couldn't help but smile as she hurried after them. "What are they carrying?" Lady Stark murmured as they made their way outside and the group came riding through the front gates. "Oh no…."
Sansa let out a combined gasp and squeal that Maliya thought impressive as she showed up behind them. "Are those – did you find puppies?" She asked excitedly, hurrying forward as Robb carefully got down off his horse considering he was holding two, tiny, fluffy animal in each arm.
"Direwolf pups, actually," Robb corrected her, his cheeks flushed from either excitement or his ride. "One for each of the Stark children. These two here are male, but Theon has the female ones."
Sansa and Arya both rushed towards Theon as he got down off his own horse. "Where's mine?" Rickon piped up, basically bouncing up and down with unbridled anticipation. "I want that one." He pointed to the little black pup in Robb's arms and grinned when it was handed over freely.
Luckily Sansa and Arya didn't want the same pup and a major crisis was avoided. Bran chose a silvery grey pup and Jon was holding the runt of the litter, a small white pup with bloodred eyes.
"What do you think?" Robb asked as he walked over to Maliya, holding out a pup with smoky gray fur and golden yellow eyes.
"He's adorable," she cooed, scratching him behind the ears and watching him nuzzle her hand. "What are the odds that you guys would find six direwolf pups, not only the sigil of your house but also the number of children that he has? I've never believed in fate before, but this is the closest I've ever come to thinking it was real."
"Ned," Lady Stark warned in an impressively low growl of a voice, her blue eyes flashing. "What have you done?"
"Oh come on, Cat," Lord Stark smiled as he approached her, placing a hand on her back and a kiss to her cheek. "Look how happy they are! Their mother was killed, I couldn't just leave them to die. They're too young, they wouldn't survive on their own. Besides, I know that our children will feed them, take care of them and train them on their own." Lord Stark gave them all a piercing look, chorusing a round of 'yes's.'
"Please, mother!" Sansa begged coming closer with her own wolf.
"Look how cute and defenseless they are!" Arya lifted her wolf and practically shoved it in her mother's face.
"We promise to take care of them," Bran chimed in, tearing his eyes away from his own wolf to look up with big brown eyes.
"Alright, alright!" Lady Stark chuckled, her expression softening as all her children teamed up against her. "You can keep them."
"Yes!" Rickon crowed, placing his pup on the ground. "Come on, Shaggydog!" He called excitedly, grinning as the pup clumsily bounded after him.
"Shaggydog?" Lord Stark repeated with a bewildered look, watching as his other kids placed their pups on the ground and ran off laughing and yelling with exhilaration, even perfect, ladylike Sansa. Lord Stark turned to his wife. "Did he just name a strong, proud direwolf Shaggydog?"
Things at Winterfell seemed to have developed into a sort of routine, and Maliya almost forgot about the fact that the royals were heading their way. It hovered on the edge of her mind, but Maliya found herself easily distracted with her new life. Now that her last resentment and anger towards the Starks had gone, she couldn't help but grow to like each and every one of them. Things with her and Robb were still easy and comfortable and she was actually growing to enjoy getting to know him. She was also astounded at each of the different personalities of his siblings and how easily they accepted her into their life.
Her favorite moment thus far, however, happened a few days before the royals arrived. Sansa and Arya had just gotten into another one of their legendary fights and Maliya had gone off to find Arya. She knew what it was like to be the younger sister.
Maliya cautiously knocked on Arya's bedchamber doors. "Hi Arya," Maliya greeted softly, noting the sad forlorn look on the other girls face as she absently stroked her direwolf's fur. "I heard about your fight with Sansa earlier. Can I come in?"
Arya shrugged and Maliya took that as an affirmative. It had been a fortnight since Lord Stark had brought the direwolves home and already in that short amount of time they had nearly doubled in size.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Maliya asked, crossing the room to join Arya on her bed. The other girl reluctantly moved over, lifting the fur covers and allowing Maliya to slip inside, her back resting against the headboard.
Arya was silent for a couple of long seconds but Maliya waited her out and sure enough the words spewed forth. "I – I wanted to name her Nymeria, but Sansa said it's a stupid name. But she named her wolf lady. If that isn't a stupid name I don't know what is."
Ah. And there was the heart of the problem. Sansa was young herself and didn't seem to realize that her words affected Arya, even if the younger girl pretended otherwise.
"I think Lady is the perfect name for Sansa's wolf," Maliya told her gently. It was an ironic name for sure, but it was definitely right for Sansa. Robb had named his Grey Wind, which Maliya thought was weird at first, but when he had explained that it was because all he saw was a gray blur when he ran it made sense. Bran hadn't named his yet either, but Jon had named his wolf Ghost, which also made sense because of his white fur. "This little wolf, though, is yours Arya. You can name her whatever you want to. I have a cousin named Nymeria you know," she continued conversationally. "My uncle named her after his favorite story of Queen Nymeria, the woman who basically founded Dorne."
"That's what I was going to name her after! The warrior Queen Nymeria. A woman and a badass," Arya said fiercely, just daring Maliya to scold her on her language.
Maliya ignored it. "Do you know the full story of Nymeria? It's my uncle's favorite, he used to tell it to us all the time when we were younger." Arya just shrugged again and Maliya continued, settling in as the remembered words came to her with ease. "Well. The Rhoyne river was one of the mightiest in Essos. The citizens that lived there called it Mother Rhoyne. Art and music flourished in the cities of the Rhoyne, and it is said their people had their own magic – a water magic very different from the sorceries of Valyria, which were woven of blood and fire. Though united by blood and culture and the river that had given them birth, the Rhoynish cities were elsewise fiercely independent, each with its own prince… or princess, for amongst these river folk, women were regarded as the equals of men."
"Yeah, Bran, you hear that?" Arya interrupted, causing Maliya to blink in surprise and look over to the doorway to see Bran and Rickon loitering outside, both in their nightclothes. "Women were equal to men." Bran stuck his tongue out at her but Rickon was looking at her with an earnest expression.
"Are you telling a story, Maliya?" He asked in a soft voice, rubbing his eyes and fighting a yawn. "Can we listen too?"
"No, she's telling the story to me," Arya snapped at once. "You should be in bed." She was probably right, but Maliya sent her a pointed look and the other girl rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh alright, fine. Come on in then."
Twin smiles lit Bran and Rickon's faces and they ran across the room. Rickon jumped on the bed and settled himself between Maliya and Arya's legs. Bran on the other hand, had come around to Maliya's side of her bed and shooed her over closer to Arya so he could scramble in on the other side.
"Now where was I?" Maliya questioned as they finally settled down. "Oh yes. There was a series of wars against the Valyrians, and it was they who emerged as victors more oft than not. The princes of Rhoyne, fiercely proud of their independence, fought alone, whilst the Valaryian colonies aided one another. This series of conflicts reached a bloody climax a thousand years ago in the Second Spice War, when three Valyrian dragonlords joined with their kin to overwhelm, sack and destroy Sarhoy, the great Rhoynar port city upon the Summer Sea. The warriors of Sarhoy were – " she faltered here for a moment. Normally her uncle would go into detail about how they were slaughtered and children sold into slavery but she amended it for the young ones. "Defeated," she said instead. "The utter destruction of one of the richest and most beautiful cities of the Rhoyne, and the enslavement of her people, shocked the remaining Rhoynar princes."
"What about Princess Nymeria?" Arya demanded impatiently.
Maliya's lips twitched. "Patience," Maliya chided, playfully squeezing her side and making her jump and laugh. "Do you want to hear the story or not?" Arya nodded with her lips tightly shut and Maliya continued. "Only Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar spoke against them. 'This is a war we cannot hope to win,' she warned them, but they did not listen and she had no choice but to join their alliance. They won the first battle against a hundred thousand foes, a hundred war elephants and three dragonlords. Their wizards used the river against the dragons, and two archers managed to bring down two of them while the third fled, wounded. The Volantenes retreated and pled for help. Help did arrive, in the form of dragons, three hundred or more, if the tales that have come down to us can be believed – "
A sharp gasp caught their attention and they all looked up to the doorway to see Sansa standing there in her nightdress, a shocked expression on her face. "Did you say three hundred dragons?"
"What are you doing here?" Arya spat, venom in her voice. Her direwolf looked around at the sound of her owner's voice, growling slightly.
Sansa flushed red when she realized they were all looking at her and shuffled awkwardly. "Looking for you," she mumbled. "I'm – I'm sorry for making fun of the name Nymeria. If it makes you feel any better, mother punished me."
Arya's expression brightened slightly. "That does make me feel better, actually."
"Then can I stay and listen?" Sansa asked softly, looking nervous as to what Arya might say.
"As long as you don't interrupt," Arya warned with narrowed eyes. Sansa flounced happily inside the bedchambers, climbing up on the foot of the bed and lying down on her side, her hand on her head. "Go on, Maliya. You were up to the part about the three hundred dragons."
Maliya couldn't help but smile at them as they looked at her expectantly. "Princess Nymeria had heard of the other prince's defeat and knew the same fate awaited her if she followed down that path. So she gathered every remaining ship in her city and filled them with her people, the young and old as all of the fighting men had gone off to war. Legend has it that she was in command of ten thousand ships when they set sail. The voyage was long and terrible and more than a hundred ships sank or drifted away. When they paused at the Basilisk Isles for water and provisions, they were attacked and hundreds were carried off to slavery. Nymeria ordered them to set sail once more until they landed at Sothoryos and made a temporary home there, but they did not stay for long. The flies carried diseases that they had no medicines for, and the waters were infested with fish that would bite and eat them. They stayed until they found one of their boats drifting back ashore, with every man, woman and child missing from it. It was then that Nymeria ordered them to sail once more. For three more years they traveled, stopping some places only to continue moving once more until they headed for Westeros and stopped on the coast of what is now considered Dorne."
"That's where you're from, right Maliya?" Rickon asked through a yawn, lying down on the bed with his head on Maliya's lap. She absently began playing with his curls.
Maliya nodded. "It was a very different land back then. It was dry and poor, and the petty lords who lived there often fought their own people. Many of them viewed Princess Nymeria and her people to be unwelcome visitors, all except for Mors Martell who was the Lord of the Sandship. He saw the newcomers as an opportunity… and if the singers can be believed, his lordship also lost his heart to Nymeria, the fierce and beautiful warrior queen who had led her people across the world to set them free."
"Just like you and Robb," he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.
Movement caught the corner of her eye and she looked up to see Robb standing in the doorway of Arya's bedchambers, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, a small smile on his face. Maliya's mouth ran dry as she met his blue eyes and she quickly lost her train of thought. "Oh uh-" Maliya stammered, tearing her gaze from Robb and looking down at Rickon. "Not quite, sweetling," she told him softly. "I am not anything like the warrior queen."
"Go on with the story, Maliya," Bran urged, obviously done with the romance part of the story.
"Well, Mors Martell married Princess Nymeria and his people did the same. Dorne's numbers increased tenfold. The Rhoynar brought considerable wealth with them; their artisans, metalworkers, and stonemasons brought skills far in advance of those achieved by their Westerosi counterparts, and their armorers were soon producing swords and spears and suits of scale and plate no Westerosi smith could hope to match. Even more crucially, it is said the Rhoynish water witches knew secret spells that made dry streams flow again and deserts bloom. To celebrate these unions, and make certain her people could not again retreat to the sea, Nymeria burned the Rhoynish ships. 'Our wanderings are at an end," she declared. "We have found a new home, and here we shall live and die.' Years of war followed, as the Martells and their Rhoynar partners met and subdued one petty king after another. No fewer than six conquered kings were sent to the Wall in golden fetters by Nymeria and her prince, until only the greatest of their foes remained: Yorick Yronwood. For nine years Mors Martell and his allies struggled against Yronwood and his bannermen, in battles too numerous to mention. When Mors Martell fell to Yorick Yronwood's sword, Princess Nymeria assumed sole command of his armies. Two more years of battle were required, but in the end it was Nymeria that Yorick Yronwood bent the knee to, and Nymeria who ruled thereafter from Sunspear. Though she married twice more Nymeria herself remained the unquestioned ruler of Dorne for almost twenty-seven years, her husbands serving only as counselors and consorts. She survived a dozen attempts upon her life, put down two rebellions, and threw back two invasions by the Storm King Durran the Third and one by King Greydon of the Reach. When at last she died, it was the eldest of her four daughters by Mors Martell who succeeded her, not her son by Davos Dayne, for by then the Dornish had come to adopt many of the laws and customs of the Rhoynar, though the memories of Mother Rhoyne and the ten thousand ships were fading into legend."
By the time the story was finished, she felt the weight of Bran's head resting against her shoulder and Rickon was fast asleep. "You should definitely name your wolf Nymeria," Sansa mumbled to Arya who was the only one who still looked somewhat awake, though she was lying on her back know, deep under her covers. "She sounded like an amazing woman."
"She's my hero," Arya declared, cupping her wolf's face and pressing a kiss to it. "Nymeria it is. Thanks for telling us that story, Maliya."
Maliya mumbled something but she wasn't listening. Her gaze was caught once more in Robb's hypnotic blue eyes, a warmth in them that she had never seen directed towards her before. She couldn't read the expression on his face, however, but the look he was giving her caused her stomach to flip and her heart to pound.
Sansa sat up and noticed Robb standing there. "Robb?" She yawned. "How long have you been there? Did you hear the story?"
"I heard part of it," he replied softly, making his way into the room and smiling at her. "I'll have to hear the whole story another time. But it's late now. Time for bed."
Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Thanks for the story, Maliya. Good night."
"Night," Maliya murmured back. Robb approached the bed, gently shaking Bran's shoulder and murmuring in his ear.
He grumbled a little in protest, but woke up enough to give Maliya a hug. "Thanks Maliya. It was a good story, even if it was about a girl." He trotted out after Sansa in the direction of his own bedchambers.
Robb reached over Maliya and carefully lifted Rickon up into his arms, where the boy nestled his head further into Robb's shoulder, still asleep. Robb straightened and paused, looking down at Maliya once more, that unreadable expression back on his face. He raised his free hand and lightly ran the back of his finger down her cheek, causing her eyes to widen. "Thank you," he murmured. "You never fail to surprise me, Princess."
Maliya watched in the looking glass as Julina's talented fingers weaved through her hair. It was another simple hairstyle, though different than the last one that Julina did for her. By the time she was finished, Maliya's hair somehow had a braid going along the top of her head from one ear to the other, pulling her hair back away from her face. The braid was pinned behind her ear and the rest of her hair fell in its natural loose waves down her back.
"Are you certain this is the dress you want to wear tonight?" Julina asked doubtfully as she stepped back and looked Maliya over. "It's so different from the ones you usually wear."
"Because it's my husbands colors or because it's not as whore-ish as the others?" Maliya asked, lips twitching up into a smirk as she ran her hands over the front of her dress. Julina's eyes widened in alarm and she started to stammer out a denial. Maliya felt bad for teasing her and turned back to look in the mirror. "I know it's a bit more… modest than my usual southern style, but the king is coming and I feel I should show that the north is my new home." The dress was fancy enough for the arrival of the royals but was still a simple gray, with lace around a neckline that completely covered her breasts (which was the part Julina was talking about) and a matching lace around the long sleeves at her wrist.
"If you don't need anything else, My Lady?"
"No, thank you, Julina." The other girl curtsied and let herself her out the door, closing it behind her. Tilting her head to the side, Maliya surveyed herself once more before deciding that she much rather wear her style of dresses. Even though this one was undoubtably warmer, it felt very confining.
Grey Wind, who had been napping on their bed while Julina helped her dress, perked his head up as she put on her engagement necklace and slipped it under her dress. He bounded off the bed and ran over to her with a yip, playfully pulling at the bottom of her skirts. "Hi you," she murmured quietly, bending down to pet him on the head, scratching him behind the years. She grinned as he nuzzled her hand and couldn't resist lifting him up, giggling as he licked her face. "I know your daddy said not to pick you up because he didn't want you to be coddled, but you are just too cute! At the rate you're growing, you're going to be too big to lift soon," she cooed. "So I just don't see how this is bad. Just don't tell your daddy, alright?" She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and placed him back on his feet. "Where is he anyway?" She wondered, straightening with a frown. "Come on, Grey. Let's go find him." She grabbed her heavy fur cloak before she left and clipped it on; she didn't know if she was imagining it, but it seemed as if the weather was getting colder and colder.
Even though Grey Wind had been with them for a couple of weeks now, she still found his name quite odd. It sounded too much like her brother and 'passing wind' to her (he thought any and all bodily functions were hilarious) and she had taken to just calling him Grey. Robb either didn't mind or notice, because he hadn't said anything to her about it yet.
Grey Wind happily trotted out ahead of her when she opened the door, and off they went in search of her husband. If she thought the castle would have been prepared for the royal's arrival she was sorely mistaken. She had to dodge several frantic maids and servants as they hurried to finish their work.
Grey Wind suddenly gave an excited bark and took off, causing Maliya's eyes to widen in panic. Lady Stark reiterated daily that she expected the direwolves to be on their best behavior, and if she found out Maliya had let him run through the castle, she was done for. "Grey!" She tried to yell without being too loud. "Get back here!" Cursing under her breath, she picked up her skirts and started running after him. "Grey Wind I swear on both the old gods and the new if you don't get back here – oh!"
As she turned the corner she ran into a very solid chest and would have bounced right to the floor if the person hadn't quickly reached out and hooked an arm around her waist. When she saw a familiar pair of icy blue eyes staring down at her in shock, Maliya forced herself to quickly take stock of the situation. Her hands had reached out and grabbed his biceps instinctively and her back was bowed slightly, their legs connected. Her heart was pounding and she could have sworn that those blue eyes flickered down to her parted lips.
"Oh just make out already," a sarcastic voice sneered, effectively breaking the moment.
Robb dropped his arm and Maliya swiftly stepped back a step, looking around, her cheeks feeling flush. The sarcastic voice belonged to Theon, of course, but Jon was also standing next to Robb, grinning at the pair of them. Grey Wind was sitting innocently at Robb's feet – apparently he had smelt his owner and had gone off looking for him.
"You have all the luck Robb," Jon teased, grey eyes twinkling. "When will it be my turn to rescue a pretty damsel in distress?" Rolling her eyes, Maliya reached over and punched him on the shoulder. Jon laughed, rubbing his arm. "Careful, My Lady, I'm pretty sure that's not proper princess etiquette."
Maliya refrained from punching him again, though she couldn't help smiling. It wasn't often that Jon lost the solemn look on his face. "You better watch yourself, Jon, I can't be considered a damsel in distress when I can easily kick all your asses."
"Anytime, anywhere, Princess," Robb challenged, one side of his mouth lifting up into a dashing half grin.
Maliya glanced at him again and tilted her head to the side when she realized that he looked different. "You shaved!" She exclaimed, lifting a hand without thinking and touching his smooth cheek. Her eyes widened when she realized what she was doing, but he caught her hand before she could pull it away and lowered it to his side, fingers intertwining. Her heart was pounding again, but she strove to pretend everything was normal and they did this everyday. "You guys look handsome," she complimented, looking from Robb to Jon. Her eyes slid to Theon and she shrugged. "Well, most of you."
Jon grinned as her words, and cut in quickly when Theon opened his mouth. "Alright, Theon, let's go somewhere else and let the lovebirds talk." He grabbed Theon's arm and dragged him away.
"You know, he's only calling us that because you're holding my hand," Maliya whispered, trying to tug her hand away.
He just tightened his grip, his eyes knowing as he looked down at her. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was because you couldn't take your eyes off me," he teased, smiling widened at her scoff. "How is your wrist feeling?" He asked, picking up their hands to examine it carefully.
"Better, thankfully," she answered. "Maester Luwin helped me take the bandage off a day or two ago. It's still a bit stiff and a little sore, but it feels so much better."
"I'm glad," he murmured, lifting her hand higher to press a kiss to the back of it and causing a flutter of butterflies low in her stomach. "Now, the king will be arriving shortly and – "
"What?" Maliya interrupted in alarm, her heart suddenly taking a nosedive down to her stomach. "He's here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Robb pulled back, a frown crossing his face as he observed her. "Are you alright?" He asked, obviously catching the panic in her voice.
Maliya strove to smooth out her expression, taking a breath to calm her appearance. Inwardly, the emotions were just clashing through her, but she couldn't allow anyone else to pick up on them. "I'm fine," she told him, giving him a reassuring smile, and hurrying to think of an excuse for her behavior. "It's just… my father and uncle don't really like the Baratheons and the Lannisters, especially since the death of their sister. My aunt Elia." Understanding dawned on his face and Maliya was satisfied with the partial lie. "Don't tell anyone, please Robb."
"I won't," Robb assured her, his voice serious. "You're my wife now, Maliya. Anything you tell me stays between the two of us." Maliya didn't necessarily believe him, but she nodded like she did in order to end that conversation. He gave her hand a soft squeeze. "Come," he murmured softly. "We should head down to the keep with the rest of the family."
He led the way out of the castle, pausing only to put Grey Wind in their bedchambers and closing the door so he didn't cause trouble with the royal family. He whined once, before Robb left, but quieted down when he bent down and murmured something to him.
Robb didn't take her hand again as they walked towards his family and Maliya was grateful for it. She laced hers in front of her, rebuilding her 'princess persona' as she tried to battle her anger and hatred. It was imperative that she not do anything stupid. This was the Starks home, and her behavior was directly reflected on them. She had tried to fight it, but they had somehow snuck their way into her heart and she didn't want to endanger them in any way.
Sansa gave her and Robb a nervous smile as they approached the Stark line, but Maliya could see that her blue eyes were alight with excitement. For her, this moment was all her dreams coming true. Bran was standing a space away from Sansa, an empty space where Arya was supposed to be. Maliya looked around quickly but only saw Rickon waving at her from his mother's side. She looked especially tense this morning, but Lord Stark gave them a soft smile as Robb took his place next to him and Maliya next to her husband and Sansa. "You doing alright, Lady Maliya?" Lord Stark asked quietly, leaning around Robb slightly.
Maliya gave her practiced smile. "Yes, Lord Stark. Thank you for asking." Robb gave her a questioning look but she just shook her head, not wanting to get into it right now.
She could hear the sounds of hundreds of horses approaching the gate, and she felt more than saw the rest of the castle assembling respectfully behind the Stark family. Her body was seemed to grow cold as the first of the knights and guards came riding through the gate, most of them carrying the Baratheon banners. They were in full uniform, complete with swords and helmets.
"Where is Arya?" Lady Stark hissed in frustration after glancing down the line. "Sansa, where's your sister?"
Sansa just shrugged, but not even a minute later Arya came running past, a small guards helmet on her head. "Hold it!" Lord Stark commanded, grabbing her arm before she passed him. "What are you doing with that on?" He asked, lifting it off her head and handing it behind him to Ser Rodrick. "Go on." She caught Robb trying to contain his amused grin as Arya finally stood in her spot.
A man in a white cloak and horse came trotting through first, his white cloak an obvious sign that he was part of the Kingsguard. He had a helmet on though, so she couldn't tell who it was. A boy with blonde hair and a cocky, self-confident grin came into view next. Maliya felt Sansa fidget slightly at the sight of him and looked over to see her eyes glued to him, a little smile on her lips. Robb must have seen the young prince grin back at Sansa, because he tensed next to her.
Her eyes fell on a tall man riding close to the prince. He was dressed all in black and was wearing a helmet that covered his face but she knew who it was. The helmet was in the shape of a dog – it was Sandor Clegane, the brother of the man who smashed her baby brother's head against the wall and raped and killed her mother. A rush of fury ran through her, her nails biting in the backs of her hands as she fought to keep her face blank. She knew that The Hound was the prince's personal bodyguard but for some reason she hadn't factored him in when she pictured the king's visit.
Her attention was diverted again as the carriage came through as well as several more knights and the king himself. When she looked upon King Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms her first thought was, 'who the fuck is he going to be able to protect?'
The supposedly strong, powerful man who had killed her father with a single blow to the chest was fat. His beard and hair were gray and he needed fucking stairs in order to get down from his horse! For most of her life she pictured the man who had killed her father as this towering, intimidating figure and it always struck a little fear and uncertainty into her heart.
But this man, the one who looked about twelve months pregnant… she wasn't afraid of him. And if anything, it made her hate him all the more.
She bent her head as the king approached, following Lord Stark's lead and kneeling on the floor, hearing the sounds of everyone in Winterfell doing the same. When the King stopped in front of Lord Stark, he gestured for him to stand again, his face impassive.
"Your Grace," Lord Stark murmured as they stood once more, inclining his head.
"You've got fat," King Robert said flatly. Maliya raised a sarcastic eyebrow at his audacity to call someone else fat. Lord Stark glanced pointedly at the King's own stomach and the two broke out laughing, the sudden tension within the rest of the crowd dissipating as they hugged. "Cat!" He called jovially, pulling the surprised woman into a hug, ruffling Rickon's hair as he pulled away as she awkwardly murmured, "Your Grace."
"It's been a long time, Stark," King Robert told him gruffly. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace," Lord Stark answered. "Winterfell is yours."
The door to the carriage opened and Maliya watched as several ladies and two small children carefully stepped out followed by a blonde woman who must be the Queen. Cersei Lannister. She looked around Winterfell and Maliya felt a rush of annoyance at the slightly disdainful look on her face.
"And who do we have here?" King Robert boomed, moving down the line. "You must be Robb," he greeted, shaking his hand.
His eyes slid past Robb and landed on her. They widened dramatically, his face paling beneath his beard as he froze. "Elia," he muttered, seemingly involuntarily.
Maliya's heart felt like someone was squeezing it. "No, Your Grace," Maliya told him quietly, inclining her head in a show of respect so he couldn't see the loathing in her eyes.
"This is Princess Maliya Martell of Dorne, Your Grace," Robb stepped in, placing a hand on the small of her back in a show of support. "She's my wife."
King Robert placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could look at her face properly. It took everything she had within her not to wrench away from him. "Elia was my aunt, Your Grace," Maliya told him in an effort to distract herself. "Sister to my father, Prince Doran."
His face was more composed than before, but Maliya could see his dislike for her lurking in the back of his eyes. "Right. I had heard about your marriage, Robb, congratulations. You look very much like your aunt," he said, before dismissing her completely and moving down the line to Sansa. "My you're a pretty one. And your name is?" He asked Arya, moving quicker now.
"Arya," she answered.
He nodded to her and stopped in front of Bran. "Show us your muscles!" Bran beamed and lifted his arm for the king to see. "You'll be a soldier yet."
"That's Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother!" Arya whispered to Sansa.
"Will you please, shut up?" Sansa hissed back.
Maliya turned her head to where she was looking and saw a tall man take off his helmet and shake out his hair. Everything about him was golden. His helmet, his hair, his uniform. From one look at the man Maliya could tell that he was in shape and knew how to handle a sword. Jamie Lannister. The Kingslayer. Another man who had killed a member of her family.
Queen Cersei lifted her lips and sauntered forward to Lord Stark, looking as if she had something that smelled terrible stuck to her nose. Her lips twitched in what must have been an attempt at a smile as she lifted her hand out for Lord Stark. He hesitated only slightly before pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Both him and Lady Stuck murmured, "My Queen."
"Take me to your crypts," King Robert ordered, interrupting them. "I want to pay my respects."
"We've been riding for a month, my love," Queen Cersei glanced at him, the barest hint of bitterness in her tone. "Surely the dead can wait."
King Robert dismissed her with barely a look in front of everyone in Winterfell. "Ned," he ordered, and Lord Stark is forced to step around Queen Cersei and lead King Robert to the crypts. The whole situation was awkward for everyone involved.
As King Robert walked away, Maliya was certain of three things.
One. She was surrounded by powerful people who had killed multiple members of her family.
Two. These people would most likely hate anything to do with the Targaryens, so it was imperative that she keep her real identity a secret now more than ever. If they found out she was really Rhaenys Targaryen, they wouldn't hesitate to kill her.
Three. She hated them all. She would gladly see them all dead, King Robert most of all.
Author's Note: Well, that was another long chapter! I'm sorry if anyone dislikes them, but I can't seem to help it apparently, so this is what you should expect from now on.
So! In this chapter we saw Maliya's continued relationships with the Starks, and we also saw how she's sort of struggling to handle the fact that she no longer wants revenge against them. Hopefully you agree with how the story is progressing! I don't want them anything to be too sudden or quick, so if you think it is, please let me know!
A couple of you told me a few things that you wanted to see in the story, and you gave me some brilliant ideas! See if you can spot yours! So if there is something that you want to see happen, I might be able to fit it in with my plotline!
Next chapter: Maliya receives word from home, there's a fire and some swordfighting, Maliya vs. the royals as well as a kiss, possibly?
Leave a review and let me know what you think!
Guest 1– Thanks for your review! I'm glad you're liking Maliya as a character so far
Guest 2 – Thank you! I love the story so far too aha you'll have to let me know how you think their relationship is progressing!
Guest 3 – Keep an eye out for them this chapter!
Girl – Thanks for letting me know what you think about the story. I'm sorry that you don't like Maliya yet. The only thing I can say to defend her is that she lost her entire family and her home in one day. She grew up with strangers and has been listening to her uncle and father talk about getting revenge for their deaths ever since she was little. She also didn't want to get married – she knew it was a possibility due to her station, but she wasn't happy that Robb was a Stark and that he was so far north, away from the Baratheons and Lannisters. Let me know if you like Maliya any more after this chapter!
Ana – Thanks for your review, I'm glad you love the story so far!