Author's Note: Next chapter out within less than a month – go me! I'm really excited by this chapter and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it!
Special thanks to both Dannylionthe1st and Maddie Rose!
Review, review, review!
Chapter 7: Revelations
The feast was absolute torture. She was forced to watch as the King of Westeros got drunk and openly kissed and fondled other women that were not his wife. The Queen had a slightly pinched look to her face from where she sat at the high table looking out over the Great Hall. Lady Stark, who was sitting next to her, had to struggle to keep the horror and disgust off her face.
The wine flowed freely throughout the meal, and it didn't take long before all the men and women from King's Landing and Winterfell were drunk, laughing uproarisly and talking loudly. She could tell that the party would continue well into the night and possibly the early hours of the morning.
Rickon and Bran were the first to go to bed, then Arya after she flung food in Sansa's face. Sansa, however, had been beaming the whole evening. She was giggling with her friend Jeyne and kept exchanging flirty glances with Prince Joffrey. With every one, she could feel Robb grow tenser.
In fact, the only time he seemed at ease was when his Uncle Benjen showed up, the youngest child of Rickard Stark. He was a tall, thin man dressed all in black and when Robb saw him, a wide smile split his face. When Robb introduced his uncle to her and she found out he was a First Ranger of the Night's Watch, her brain stopped working properly.
She gaped at him, her eyes wide. "You mean you volunteered to live up there? … On purpose?" Luckily he wasn't offended by her idiocy and he and Robb just laughed.
During the feast she was actively trying to avoid looking at the royal family since that only seemed to further incite her rage. Instead, she found herself watching her husband as he mingled with everybody, making his rounds. There was a smile on his face as he talked, but with a sudden jolt of surprise, she realized that he was just acting. His smile wasn't the genuine ones that she had seen him wear and she knew he wasn't really enjoying himself.
Sure enough, he came over to her an hour or so later after most of the Great Hall had cleared out. Maliya gratefully turned away from the old man who had been blathering on to her nonstop when Robb put his hand on the small of her back. "Excuse us," Robb apologized to the man before walking a few steps away.
"Thank you," Maliya murmured, rolling her eyes. "I couldn't even tell you what he was talking about, but I know that it was something dreadfully boring."
Robb gave her a tired smile. "My parents left a while ago, and I think it's an appropriate time to make an escape." He looked down at her with those piercing blue eyes. "I'm going to head to bed. Do you want to come with me?"
She was sorely tempted. Her body felt exhausted but her mind was still whirling and until it stopped, she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep. "I will, but I'm going to take a walk and clear my head first."
"Are you alright?" Robb asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"Yes," she lied with a smile. "I'll be up shortly, don't worry."
He nodded, then hesitated for a moment before bending down to place a light kiss on her cheek. She watched him walk out of the Great Hall, feeling conflicted, before turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.
She closed her eyes and breathed in air that wasn't tainted with the smell of sweat, body odor and ale. Rubbing her arms against the cold chill in the air, she quickly walked across the dark grounds and towards the stables. Luckily it was deserted and Maliya was able to slip inside Shadow's stall unnoticed.
"Hey boy," she greeted softly, smiling as Shadow pushed his nose against her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been to visit." She moved around to his side, picking up a brush and running it over his neck. She felt the tension drain out of her, her movements cathartic and soothing. "I don't know what I'm doing here anymore, Shadow. I mean, they're here, within arm's reach for the first time in my life…. And I can't do anything about it. If the king mysteriously dies within the Stark's castle, they will automatically be blamed and as much as I hate to admit it, I don't want to put them in that kind of danger." She paused, resting her forehead against his neck. "I grew up with this big, grand plan for revenge and now that I'm away from home I realize I don't have any plan at all. I'm only eight and ten years old. How am I supposed to bring my family's murderers to justice?" She snorted, shaking her head. "If only my father could see me now. He probably wouldn't say it, but his look would have 'I told you so,' written all over it. I just wish someone would tell me what to do," she sighed.
Maliya straightened as she heard a distant shout. Peering curiously over the stall door, Maliya looked around but couldn't see anybody in sight. Putting down the brush, she kissed Shadow on the nose before letting herself out of the stall and creeping towards the entrance to the stables. For a moment Maliya couldn't see anything, but when her eyes adjusted she saw a lone rider in the night. Several guards approached the rider and a few minutes later so did a man with an elderly gait, one she recognized as the maester of Winterfell. She saw him take something from the rider, but she wasn't close enough to hear what was said.
Her curiosity was peaked. What could be so important, so secretive, that the rider had to deliver it in the middle of the night?
Without even having the conscious thought to do so, Maliya found herself following Maester Luwin as he walked quickly back into the castle. She kept to the shadows as best she could, tiptoeing to avoid the sounds of her heels clicking against the floor. There was one heart stopping moment where Maester Luwin looked over his shoulder with a frown, but luckily Maliya was able to duck into an alcove, heart hammering, until he continued on.
She had spent most of the past two moons learning her way around the castle, and she realized that Maester Luwin was heading to the corridor where their bedchambers were located. They passed her room and the rest of the Stark children's and with a jolt of anticipation and horror, he turned the corner and stopped in front of Lord and Lady Stark's bedchambers.
Maliya strained her ears, listening and peering around the corner as Maester Luwin knocked three times. Someone must have answered him because he called out, "It's Maester Luwin, My Lord."
Maester Luwin opened the door and stepped inside and Maliya made her move. Holding her breath, she quickly hurried to the door, catching it softly before it latched closed. Looking wildly around to make sure there was no one coming down the corridor, and praying that no one interrupted, Maliya pressed her ear to the crack to listen.
"- rider in the night, My Lady," Maester Luwin was saying. "From your sister."
Maliya wracked her brains, trying to remember her studies. Lady Catelyn was originally a Tully. She had a younger brother as well as an older sister whose name Maliya couldn't recall. Lady Catelyn and her sister were married in a double ceremony, to Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. Who was dead…Maliya realized with another jolt, heart beating in excitement.
Could this be what she was waiting for? Could this be a piece of information that she could use and send back home?
She listened even harder, not wanting to miss a single word.
"This was sent from the Eerie!" Lady Stark exclaimed, sounding shocked and confused. "What is she doing at the Eerie? She hasn't been back there since her wedding."
There was a long tense moment of silence in which Maliya guessed Lady Stark was reading the letter. "What news?" Lord Stark asked, his voice moving closer.
"She fled the capital," Lady Stark answered in a low, emotional voice. "She says Jon Arryn was murdered… by the Lannisters. She says the King is in danger!"
Maliya's eyes widened drastically, her face paling at what she was hearing. She almost couldn't hear them speaking over the pounding of her heart. "She's fresh widowed Cat," Lord Stark told her quickly, making Maliya roll her eyes in annoyance. "She doesn't know what she's saying –"
"Lysa's head would be on a spike right now if the wrong people had found that letter. Do you think she would risk her life, her son's life is she wasn't certain her husband was murdered?" Lady Stark's voice was adamant, already convinced that her sister's words were true.
"If this news is true, and the Lannister's conspire against the throne… who but you can protect the King?" The third voice asked.
"They murdered the last Hand!" Lady Stark cried in horror. "Now you want Ned to take the job?"
"The King rode for a month to ask for Lord Stark's help," Maester Luwin softly reminded her. "He's the only one he trusts."
"He spent half his life fighting Robert's wars," Lady Stark argued, sounding angry now. "He owes him nothing. Your father and brother rode south once on a King's demand."
"A different time. A different King," Maester Luwin murmured.
"Thank you Maester Luwin," Lord Stark responded in a heavy voice. "I'll need to think on this."
Maliya took this as her cue and hastily picked up her skirts and ran. She didn't stop until she was well out of sight, her mind whirling, one hand on the wall as she panted. Shock was still running through her system. The Lannisters had murdered the hand of the King and were going after King Robert next. And Lord Stark might be riding south to take the murdered man's place.
She paused, thinking for half a moment before turning around and heading back. She adopted a leisurely pace in case she ran into anyone as she headed back to her bedchamber. When she carefully opened the door, she saw the Robb was peacefully sleeping in the bed, resting on his stomach, his arm thrown across her side. She tiptoed over to her trunk, slowly opened it and pulled out the Martell seal. If her father saw this seal on her letter, he would know that it was from her. She quietly closed the door behind her and made her way upstairs to write her letter.
Hello Father,
I hope everything is going well back home. Things have settled in nicely here as I get to know my new family. They can't compare to everyone back home, who I miss immensely. How is everyone doing?
My job here has proven rather difficult. While animal watching today, I met a stag and a couple lions for the first time, which was pretty intimidating. Turns out someone saw a lion kill one of the falcons from down south. I think it still hungers though. I saw it turn its eye to the lone stag.
I'm going to keep a close eye on its progress. They say winter is approaching here, but I hope that the sun stays bright for a little while longer.
Give everyone my love back home,
Your loving daughter
"Hello, Princess." Maliya looked over her shoulder from the table where she was brushing her hair and saw Robb enter their bedchambers, a grin on his face and his hands behind his back.
Maliya, on the other hand, frowned as she examined his excited expression, complete with a twinkle in his eyes. "What are you so happy about?"
He slowly walked toward her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall someone saying that she could kick my ass in swordfighting." He pulled his hands out from behind his back to reveal a sword, his lips quirked in a half smile. "Care to see if there's any truth to that statement?"
Maliya fully turned around, cocking her head to the side and crossing her arms. "That depends. Is that sword supposed to be for me?"
Robb looked down at it in confusion. "Well yeah, it was supposed to be – "
Maliya scoffed, striding across the room to her trunk and rummaging around the bottom, making sure most of her body blocked what else was in there. It would be extremely bad if Robb saw her Moon Tea ingredients or the poison she had hidden in there. She pulled out her own sword, already loving the feel of its familiar weight. "This," she declared, unsheathing it so he could see. "This is my sword."
He took it in his right hand, lifting and testing it. "It's beautifully made, and lighter than expected."
"Thank you. My uncle had this made on one of his many travels across the sea and gifted it to me when I was old enough to wield it."
"It's beautiful," he murmured, handing it back to her. "But I don't think it will be enough to beat me."
A competitive smile slowly spread across her face. "You sound awfully confident, Lord Stark. Are you positive that you want to challenge me? I was trained by one of the most fearsome fighters in Westeros, you know."
"As was I," Robb countered immediately. "Ser Rodrick may not be as well known throughout Westeros as your uncle, but he is a gifted knight with a lot of experience. I think we will be well matched."
"Alright, husband. Let's find out, shall we?" They grinned at each other for a moment before Robb gestured to the door, eyebrows raised. "After you."
They headed down to the training grounds, a certain tension in the air between them. It was full of anticipation and mingled with excitement and adrenaline. They didn't meet anyone while they walked. The few maids and servants they did see, however, gave Maliya strange looks as she passed. She could only imagine what they were thinking. What is that highborn lady, that princess, doing with a sword?
"Are you sure you're ready for this, Princess?" Robb asked once he had retrived his sword and they reached the training rings. By some unspoken agreement, the two began to circle each other, swords at the ready.
Her lips quirked. "My first name is Maliya, not Princess. Would you like it if I called you Lord?"
His eyes glittered, as he twirled his sword in his hand. "I think I would, actually."
Maliya scoffed and rolled her eyes and Robb chose that moment to attack. She quickly raised her own sword to defend herself, but she just grinned, knowing that he wasn't going to go easy on her just because she was a woman. She blocked his every cut, slash and parry that he attempted, studying his fighting style once more.
He was stronger than her, obviously – she could feel the strength of his blows jarring through her arms. She was quicker, however, and was able to anticipate the moves that he was most likely to make next. Their amused, playful banter faded immediately once their competitive natures kicked in. While it was apparent that both of them were holding back in order to avoid cutting each other to ribbons, they were pulling out every move within their repertoire to beat the other.
Their eyes were narrowed in concentration, sweat was beginning to gather on their brows, and the only sound she could hear was their heavy breathing and the sound of steel against steel. All her senses were usually heightened when fighting, but there was something different about this particular one. She was always aware of his presence; the brush of his body up against hers, the flash of blue in his eyes when he stared down at her, only to spin away again.
It was entirely too distracting and she found herself planning moves that would bring them closer together once more. So much so, in fact, that she blatantly ignored a few openings to end it just to prolong the fight as long as possible.
"You better not be holding back on me, Princess," Robb grunted. "I want to see what you can really – "
Copying his move from earlier, Maliya took her chance while he was still speaking. In a swift little manevoure, she circled her sword around his, flicking it out of his hand. He caught her wrist before she could bring the sword point up to his neck. He squeezed the pressure point in her wrist so she dropped the sword and tugged her closer to him, trying to spin her so her back was to his front and he could get a grip on her. She allowed him pull her closer, but in the process she hooked a foot around his ankle.
As predicted, he lost his balance, but she thought that he would let go in his surprise. She ended up falling on top of his chest, her eyes wide. He grabbed her wrists and flipped them over in an attempt to get the upper hand. She wriggled free, using the momentum and her hips and they rolled a few times.
Robb ended up on top, his grin victorious. It quickly faded, however, when he felt the point of her dagger pressed against his heart.
Slowly, carefully, he reached between them and grasped her wrist, pinning it behind her head along with her other one.
Her heat was pounding still, but for another reason altogether. Both of them were breathing heavily, and her brown eyes met his in confusion, getting lost as she tried to decipher his expression. His eyes were a darker blue than usual, and his face was both thoughtful and curious. When he unconsciously licked his lips, she felt her lower stomach swoop with a hot, rushing sensation.
He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for another long moment, before his head began to lower. Her breathing picked up in anticipation, her hands flexing, and her eyes fluttering closed. He was going to kiss her and she didn't know if she should stop him or not.
Their lips were just about to touch when a high, piercing scream caused them to fly apart. "What in the seven hells was that?" Maliya gasped as Robb rolled off her, helping her to her feet. Their almost kiss was already forgotten as they each grabbed their fallen swords and Maliya put her dagger away.
"It sounded close," Robb called over his shoulder as he took off towards the scream, Maliya right on his heels. "Hurry!"
They sprinted across the lawn and around the other side of the castle. One of the female servants was standing there frozen, a basket of vegetables strewn on the ground around her as she stared in horror at a body on the floor.
"Bran?" Robb muttered in confusion, his steps faltering. "Bran!" He ran over and knelt by Bran, throwing his sword to the side without a second thought.
"My – My Lord. My Lady!" The servant gasped, stricken. Her face was pale and her eyes were spread wide, frightened. "I – I saw him fall from the tower, I didn't know what to do – "
"Go get help – hey. Hey!" Maliya strode over to the woman, grabbing her arms and giving her a slight shake. The woman's scared gaze finally met her own. "Go get help," Maliya repeated slowly, making sure she had her attention. ""Find Lord and Lady Stark. And Maester Luwin. Go! Hurry!"
The woman gave a disjointed nod of her head before picking up her skirts and running off.
Maliya dropped her sword and fell to her knees, uncaring of the dirt and stains that she was getting on her dress. "Is he - ?" She asked worriedly, glancing up at Robb.
"He's alive," Robb cut in sharply before she could finish her sentence. "I can see his chest rising and falling."
"I don't understand," Maliya murmured wildly, squinting up at the tower and then back down at Bran. "I thought you said he's never fallen – "
"Well obviously I was wrong," Robb snapped harshly, his eyes flashing. Maliya fell silent at once as a chagrined, exasperated look crossed his face. "Maliya I'm – "
"Don't," Maliya shook her head. "Let's focus on Bran. What do we do?"
"He's not waking up," Robb told her in a strangled voice, his hands hovering over Bran's body. "I can't get him to wake up and I don't want to try and shake him awake. What if something's broken?"
Maliya floundered, at a loss for words. She didn't know what to do or say in a situation like this. She shifted closer to Bran, brushing his hair back from his face with shaking fingers. "Bran? Bran can you hear me? Open your eyes, Bran, please!" She pulled back to look at his little face and there wasn't even a flicker of movement. "Maester Luwin will know what to do, Robb, he'll know how to help – "
There was a sharp cry of disbelief and horror as Lord and Lady Stark came running out of the castle. Maliya quickly moved to the side as they joined Robb, firing questions at him in voices stricken with fear. Tears were streaming down Lady Stark's face as Maester Luwin joined them as fast has his old bones would carry him.
Everything happened very quickly after that. Maester Luwin didn't want to jostle Bran too much when they moved him inside the castle, so Lord Stark ordered his men to build a small, sturdy bed contraption out of wood. Maliya watched them hurry inside, her arms wrapped around her stomach, worry eating at her insides.
Maliya was left behind, but that was alright with her. She still didn't really consider herself part of this family and she wouldn't know what to do in this situation. She didn't want to get in their way or loiter around outside the room, so she just went back to her own bedchambers, collapsing backwards on the bed. She waited for Robb to come back to the room, but hours went by.
She accidentally fell asleep and her dreams were dark and twisted. She dreamed she was sitting on some sort of throne, a crown on her head and a sword in her hand. People were lined up before her, their hands in chains and fear on their faces. There was a dark, crazed feeling inside swirling around inside of her, but at the same time she felt like an observer staring down at herself. Her face was different than the one she sees in the looking glass, her brown eyes emotionless and uncaring, her face a terrifying mask. Her sword arm raised, pointing at the people in chains and her eyes widened in horror as faceless guards materialized out of nowhere, each of them swinging an ax and taking the prisoners' heads off their shoulders.
Maliya woke with a startled gasp, glancing wildly around the room, which had darkened while she had been asleep. Collapsing back against the pillows and attempting to calm her heart, Maliya had to acknowledge what had been bothering her for more than a few days now, ever since Lord Stark had told her that her grandfather had been crazy.
She was just wondering whether the Stark library would have any information on him or the rest of her family when the bedchamber door opened and closed. A tall figure was standing there, facing the door, and she jumped when he suddenly cursed, slamming his fist against the door repeatedly.
"Robb?" She called in alarm, slipping off the bed. "Robb don't – " She tried to grab his arm but he turned with a snarl, shoving her back several steps, causing her to stumble and fall.
She watched through the moonlight as Robb's eyes cleared, really noticing her for the first time. "Princess," he gasped, horrified as he went over to kneel beside her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here – "
"It's alright," she murmured softly, ignoring her bruised bum and moving up to her knees, watching him closely. "I didn't know where else to go, I didn't want to get in the way. How… how is Bran?"
Robb sighed, an exhausted looking crossing his face as he collapsed with his back against the bed, his head in his hands. "It doesn't look good," he whispered hoarsely, looking emotionally strung out. "Maester Luwin looked him over – his back is broken as well as his legs. If – If he does wake up…he'll never be able to walk again."
Maliya heard the suffering and grief in his voice and once again didn't know what to say. She didn't want to offer empty assurances or promises that would be useless and only upset him. "I'm sorry, Robb," she said instead, knowing that her words did nothing to help him. She tried to put herself in his shoes, tried to imagine that it was Trystane that was injured instead of Bran, but even thinking about it hurt too much.
Thankfully, Robb seemed not to hear her. "What if he doesn't wake up?" He blurted, turning his head to look at her with desperation and fear in his eyes. "He's only nine years old, he doesn't deserve to have his life cut so short."
Maliya blinked back the tears in her eyes, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. "Bran is a strong boy, full of life and determination. Your mother and father and Maester Luwin will do everything in their power to save him! You have to hold on to that hope, Robb, don't give up just yet."
She moved closer as his shoulders began to shake, putting an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to offer any bit of comfort that she could. He leaned his head against her as the fear of losing his little brother overwhelmed him and Maliya was reminded that even though their families would say otherwise, her and Robb were still little more than children. She didn't respect him any less for breaking down in front of her. It was the opposite, in fact. It showed how much he loved his family and that he was willing to be vulnerable in front of her.
As Maliya held him, she sent up a prayer to both the old gods and the new that Bran would live to see another day.
Somewhere outside, a wolf began to howl.
Maliya was just finishing dressing and slipping her sun necklace into her dress when there was a stirring behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Robb waking up, rubbing his eyes and sitting up on his elbow, his eyes falling on her. "Where are you off to?" He yawned. "Don't tell me you're off to the library again! That'll be the fourth time this week."
"I am going to the library again, eventually. You didn't tell me that you have such an expansive set of books," Maliya agreed with a smile, not telling him the real reason. That she was scouring anything she could find to see if there was any cases of a person with a broken back who got up to walk again. She walked over to the bed and rubbing Grey Wind's head. He gave her hand a lazy lick from where he was lounging on the foot of their bed and her smile widened. "I was thinking of taking up some food to your mother first, to see if she'll eat anything."
A faint smile crossed his face. "I think she'd like that." He sighed, the ever-present worry creeping back into his eyes. "I'm worried about her," he admitted in a low voice. "Even though Maester Luwin says the worst is behind us, she hasn't left Bran's room since he fell and I don't think she's slept at all. I don't know what to do."
"You're doing all you can," Maliya assured him, sitting next to him on the bed. "You've really stepped up since the accident, Robb. You've been there for your mother and your father, you're helping taking care of Rickon, Sansa and Arya. You're doing everything you can to help."
He sat up further, bringing them closer together, his blue eyes warm. He lifted a hand and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, his hand lingering near her cheek. "Thank you for being there for me and my family, Maliya."
Hesitating only slightly, Maliya took his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his palm, flashing back to their 'almost kiss' at their sparring match, which seemed like ages ago. His eyes flared as he watched her, causing a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. "I should go," she blurted, trying a smile to cover her awkwardness. "I'll – I'll see you later."
She tried not to make it look like she was fleeing, but that was exactly what she was doing. She was trying to avoid examining that fluttery feeling in her stomach that she got around Robb sometimes, and so she pushed it to the side and headed to the kitchens. After grabbing a tray of biscuits and juice, she headed up to Brans room, knocking hesitantly on the door and peering inside.
"Lady Stark?" She asked cautiously. "May I come in? I've brought some food for you."
Lady Stark nodded without looking at her and Maliya stepped inside, walking over to the table and putting the tray down. She walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down on it, gently picking up Bran's hand. Poor Bran was looking worse everyday. His skin was paler than usual and it seemed to stretch tight across his bones, giving him a guant appearance.
Lady Stark wasn't looking much better. There were dark rings under her tired, worried eyes, her usually brilliant red hair was looking tangled and ratty and even her dress looking more frumpled than usual. Maliya frantically cast her mind for something to say, but it was Lady Stark who spoke first, her eyes on her son. "Being a mother is both a beautiful and terrifying thing. You raise your children, wanting them to experience all the joys in life and yet at the same time afraid of the things that can hurt them. You'll learn this once you become a mother. Everything about your children is painful in some way. The emotions, whether it be joy, sorrow, pride or love, were so sharp that in the end they leave you raw and exposed. As they grow older and become the person who they were meant to be, they drift farther and farther away from you. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest."
Maliya watched her good mother with a worried expression, her voice slightly raw from lack of use. "You should really get some sleep, My Lady," Maliya told her softly, her face sympathetic as she listened to Lady Stark's mumbled ramblings. "Maester Luwin is hopeful that Bran will wake up – "
"And what if he doesn't?" Lady Stark asked, her sharp blue eyes looking over at Maliya for the first time. "He's not one hundred percent certain about anything. My son may never wake up and I cannot risk falling asleep and missing what may very well be his last few moments. He needs me and I will not leave his side."
Maliya felt wretched. "My Lady – "
"Thank you for the food," Lady Stark interjected, turning away from her once more in dismissal. "I would like to be left alone now."
Maliya swallowed the words that she wanted to say and bowed her head. She squeezed Bran's hand one more time before getting up and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her and wandered away, a deep frown on her face. The conversation between her and Lady Stark hadn't gone all that well, though she supposed it could have gone worse. This was more difficult for her than she thought it would be.
She not only knew nothing about being a mother, but she had never known grief and pain such as this. Her father, mother and brother had died when she was too young to remember them. She had never lost someone close to her or known anyone to have such a serious accident as Bran's. Was it any wonder that she had no idea what to say to Lady Stark?
Maliya saw the pain, grief, and desperation in Lady Stark's eyes – if this was what becoming a mother was like, she was more grateful for her Uncle's gift than ever. If children caused this much pain, why would she ever want that for herself?
"Hello, Lady Maliya." Maliya was pulled from her thoughts, looking up in surpise at the soft voice and finding herself face to face with none other than Queen Cersei. She was clutching a shawl around her shoulders, a small smile on her face though Maliya thought her eyes always had a calculating look in them.
"My Queen," Maliya murmured, dropping into a curtsy while cursing herself in her head. She really should have been paying better attention to where she was going.
"You shouldn't frown so, My Lady, it causes you to age quicker than you would like," Queen Cersei commented, tilting her head to the side. "What were you thinking about?"
"Why anyone would ever want to become a mother," Maliya answered truthfully with a rueful smile.
The Queen's lips quirked. "Come. Have a cup of tea with me. It is the only thing that keeps me warm in this god forsaken place." She didn't wait for an answer, just turned on her heel and led the way to her bedchambers. Maliya stifled a sigh, her brain racing as she tried to think of an excuse to get her out of this torture but she came up with nothing useful. She could hardly refuse the Queen of Westeros.
The Queen's bedchambers were fancier than even Robb's, but with the way she looked around, it was apparent that she was used to something more opulent. There was a small table with a pot of steaming tea and a few cups. Maliya sat after the Queen, trying to appear relaxed but in reality her body was as taut as a bowstring. In every sense of the word, Maliya felt like she had wandered right into the lion's den.
A maid that Maliya hadn't noticed walked over to pour tea into both of their cups. Queen Cersei waved her away before picking up her own and taking a sip, her green eyes searching Maliya's face. "How long have you been married to the Young Wolf?" She asked in her soft voice.
Maliya frowned, thinking back and and feeling surprised by the answer. "I suppose it's been…. Almost four months now."
"And how are you liking married life?"
If that wasn't a loaded, difficult question then she didn't know what was. "It's complicated," Maliya answered after a moment, as truthfully as she could.
Queen Cersei's lips quirked in amusement. "I remember when I used to think the same thing," she commented drily. Maliya noted that the amusement never quite reached her eyes. "I was young back then. Young, naïve, and utterly stupid." Maliya blinked in surprise at the sudden bitterness in her voice. The Queen took another sip of tea. "As the years painfully and slowly go by, you'll learn that marriage is the simplest thing in this world. The man is free to do what and whoever he pleases, while the woman must be the perfect lady, poised and polite. Said man will occasionally stumble into the woman's bedroom to get his pleasure and to put his seed in her belly to ensure his wife will bear his children."
Digust filled Maliya at the picture the Queen was painting and she found herself automatically shaking her head. "Granted I haven't known Robb very long, but I don't believe that he's that type of person."
"All men are that type of person," Queen Cersei disagreed, still smiling though it looked slightly forced. "You might believe that you don't want children, but once you're with child – if you're not already – they are going to become your whole world." Maliya must have looked doubtful because she continued on. "You'll see. You spend nine moons creating another person inside of you, this tiny little miracle. And even though giving birth is the single most painful experience in your life, it's worth it. Your child will need you and depend on you…. And love you unconditionally."
"It sounds… wonderful," Maliya lied with what she hoped was a convincing smile. "Though I don't feel ready in the least."
"These things rarely happen at a time of our choosing," Queen Cersei told her, raising an eyebrow. She appraised her for a second, before learning forward slightly. "My dear husband," she began her words dripped with acid. "May not pay attention to political matters or affairs in far away countries such as Dorne, but I've always been aware of the young princess who was rumored to look so much like the beautifully exotic Elia Martell."
"Why?" Maliya asked, mystified, flattered and a little concerned.
"Honestly? It is no secret that after the events thirteen years ago, that Dorne has not been a friend to the crown. I like to keep my eye on any potential… threats to me and my family. I'm sure you can understand that."
Maliya had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the slightly crazed grin off her face. That was exactly what she was doing here in the north. Her brown eyes met the Queen's green one and she dropped the polite façade. "I know exactly what you mean," Maliya answered, tilting her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting. "I would do anything to protect my family."
"I'm glad to hear that," Queen Cersei acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "While it is apparent that you have somewhat adjusted to life…. Here." Her voice held thinly veiled disgust as her eyes trailed over Maliya's dress. It was one of her newer ones, taking after the northern style with a Dornish twist of a lower cut front. "I hope that you'll consider putting the sins and preconceived notions of our fathers behind us and we can have a somewhat…. Civilized relationship."
Not a chance in hell. Maliya swallowed her rage at the Queen's audacity, making sure not a flicker of it crossed her face. The Queen's words were not a mere suggestion. Her tone implied that she put those sins behind her… or else.
Maliya needed to play this dance delicately. She was alone in a room with the most powerful woman in all of Westeros, the daughter of the man who had her mother and brother murdered and possibly the woman who had murdered the Hand of the King. She didn't want to get on the Queen's bad side…not yet, anyway.
Maliya smiled at the Queen, playing the roll of the young, innocent princess and spouting the lines that she wanted to hear. "I'm honored that you think so highly of me, My Queen. While I understand my father and uncle's positions on the subject, I've been somewhat removed from it I suppose. I've never met my aunt Elia, so it doesn't hurt the same," she lied. It hurts worse. "I have no quarrel with you, My Queen. I am your loyal subject."
The Queen's grin widened slowly, and Maliya was unsure if she had imagined the flash of triumph in her eyes. "I am glad to hear it, My Lady. There is no reason for the North and the South to be enemies. I'm glad you feel the same way."
Maliya returned her smile, her insides squirming with disgust as herself. It felt like she was betraying her family and it wasn't a feeling that she liked.
Maliya shivered as the cold wind reached inside her sleeves to eat at her skin, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as she quickly walked across the grounds of Winterfell. It was turning out to be a very strange day. From her conversation with Lady Stark this morning, the one she just had with the Queen and the dark gray almost black clouds that were roiling across the sky.
It turns out that the weirdness wasn't over. As Maliya climbed the exterior stairs and entered through the doors of the library tower, she saw none other than Tyrion Lannister lounging on one of the chairs, a large book on his lap and a cup of wine in his hand. "Lady Stark!" He called jovially, raising his cup. She must have made a face, because he grinned. "Don't like the new name?"
Maliya shook her head, moving inside and taking off her cloak. "It's not that. You're just the first person to call me by my new name. I guess I'm just not used to it yet." She sat in the chair next to him with a sigh. "What are you reading about?"
"Dragons," Lord Tyrion answered, waggling his eyebrows. "Winterfell has a surprisingly extensive collection of books on them. There are even some rare Valyrian scrolls on the back bookshelves."
Maliya's interest was peaked, but she didn't let it show. She just put that in the back of her mind to examine when she was alone in the library. "You have an interest in dragons?"
"Doesn't every young boy?" Lord Tyrion joked, sitting up straighter. "I used to dream that I had a dragon of my own, that I could fly in the sky and everyone beneath me would be smaller than I was, for once."
Maliya's lips lifted into a sad smile. "I had the same dream. I used to imagine how freeing it would be to just jump on the back of a dragon and fly away, to forget all your cares or worries. I wish all the time that my cousins, Aunt Elia's children had lived and that I had known them. They had Targaryen blood running through their veins, the blood of the dragon! It would have been nice to know them."
She watched his reaction closely. He had looked away at the mention of, well, herself and her brother, though it was only for a second. "I take it that you've never been to King's Landing. The Targaryens used to hang the dragon skulls in the throne room after they died. When Robert Baratheon became King, he had them moved to the cellars. I went down there after my sister was married – they were huge – awe-inspiring, majestic and every other synonym that you can think of. Balerion's skull was the largest of course, but Vhagar and Meraxes were right behind him. You know, I would have thought that having a dragon was lucky if it weren't for the Targaryen madness."
"The what?" Maliya asked, her voice slightly higher pitched than usual as alarm spread through her.
"The Targaryen madness," Lord Tyrion repeated, grunting as he reached over to fill his cup once more. "It's said that everytime a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to determine if he or she will have the madness." He didn't seem to notice her sudden discomfort. "King Aerys the second was the worst, of course, he used to burn people and laugh. But there was also Aerion Brightflame who drank wildfire believing it would transform him into a dragon. Prince Rhaegal had massive delusions and was known to take his clothes off and dance naked through the halls of the Red Keep. Though I always admired him for that." He grinned widely.
Fear spread through her. The darkest parts of herself, the ones that she was terrified to examine too closely… was that the Targaryen madness? Was she crazy?
"I would have loved to see them," Maliya told him in a soft voice. "The dragon skulls I mean. Not a naked Targaryen." And I would have too, if it weren't for your fucking father.
"I used to set fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. Sometimes my sister." Maliya's eyes widened at his honest, casual statement and he laughed. "It is no secret that my father and sister hate me for the death of my mother, Lady Stark. A failure in every sense of the word." Maliya's mouth opened and closed, at a complete loss for words and he gave another derisive snort. "I think I've had one too many of these," he joked, lifting his cup and draining it. He slid off the chair and got to his feet, stumbling only slightly. "If you're interested in dragons, there's a whole section on them here. Did you ever hear the rumor about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark?" She shook her head. "It's rumored his dragon, Vermax, laid a clutch of eggs somewhere in Winterfell. I've been searching this whole damn library for evidence and haven't found a damn thing." He sighed mournfully. "Maybe you can do what I cannot."
Maliya gave a doubtful snort. "Do you really believe that there are dragon eggs? Here?"
Lord Tyrion looked at her with his mismatched eyes. "I believe that anything is a possibility in this world." He glanced out the window where it had just begun to rain. "I wouldn't stay too long, My Lady. The sky doesn't look too friendly – a storm might be approaching."
Maliya gave him a closed lip smiled and nodded. With a small wave, Lord Tyrion tucked his book under his arm and left.
After yet another interesting conversation with a Lannister, Maliya wandered over to the back section of the library that Lord Tyrion had gestured to. She grabbed a few of them, anything that looked interested, the big ones, the small ones and even the ones that were falling apart.
She spent what must have been hours pouring over those books, cramming in as much of her family's history as she could. She learned more in those couple of hours than she had in three and ten years from her father and uncle, who for some reason weren't very forthcoming about her ancestry.
Her mind was whirling. The three-headed dragon on the Targaryen sigil represented Aegon the Conqueror and his two sisters Rhaenys and Visenya. When they conquered Westeros, they abandoned their Valyrian gods for the Faith of the Seven, but unfortunately continued the tradition of marrying their own family members. Maliya wrinkled her nose at the thought that she might have had to marry her brother. Suddenly Robb Stark didn't seem so bad.
The information that she read about the dragons saddened her. The Targaryens housed the dragons in an immense domed structure in what was called the Dragonpit. The reign of the dragons dwindled as the wars continued and infirmity called each generation to die out. The last dragon that lived was deformed and sterile. He died very young. Over time, the remaining dragon eggs hardened, turned to stone and dragons were never seen again.
Maliya jumped when a sudden gust of wind blew through the open library window, snuffing out her candles. She quickly leapt up and ran over, her hair blowing everywhere, her face pelted with freezing rain as she struggled to close the shutters. Brushing her hair back, she walked back over to the table and lit new candles.
Thunder crashed loudly overhead as she finally got the candles lit and when she turned around to place it on the table, a dark figure was standing there. She bit back a shriek, raising the light until Jon Snow's face came into view. "Seven hells, Jon," Maliya gasped, a hand on her chest over her frantically beating heart. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"No." Jon grinned, then shook his drenched hair, spraying her with rain water and making her laugh.
"Stop that!" She chuckled, punching his arm with her free hand. She collapsed backwards onto the chair again, casually closing the book that she had been reading so Jon wouldn't see it. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you!" He answered, sitting in the chair next to her, ignoring his soaked clothes, his smile fading slightly. "You missed dinner tonight and I have some news that I had to tell everyone. I came to tell you personally so you didn't hear it from anyone else."
Maliya pushed her surprise to the side – she hadn't even realized how late it was. Jon was normally a very serious, subdued person, but there was a graveness to his expression that she hadn't seen before. Her own expression mirrored his, a frown crossing her face and her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "What is it, Jon?" Maliya asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright?"
He sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm leaving, Maliya. My Uncle Benjen's agreed to take me north, to the wall. I'm going to join the Night's Watch."
Another loud crackle of thunder rolls across the sky, this time accompanied by a streak of hot silver that split through the clouds right above the castle. Maliya ignored it.
She pulled away from Jon, sitting up straight in her shock, feeling both alarmed and confused. "What?" She whispered, her eyes wide. She shook her head frantically. "No, you can't leave! Lord Stark is leaving with the King and his royal party, and they're already taking Sansa and Arya with them! You can't leave too, Jon, you just can't! Robb needs you here – "
"And what about what I need?" Jon asked in a quiet voice, making her snap her mouth shut. "I love Robb and Arya and the rest of my siblings, but there is no future for me here. Lord Stark allows me to live here, but it will be Robb who inherits Winterfell. I'm a bastard, Maliya, and living here only serves to remind me of that fact." Maliya knew that he was speaking of Lady Stark but even now he was too polite and respectful to say something bad about her. "I have to make my own name for myself. Becoming a man of the Night's Watch is an honorable calling. I'll be able to use my skills with a sword in order to protect the Seven Kingdom's from the wildlings and make Westeros a better place."
Maliya swallowed hard, feeling incredibly sad, like she was losing something special and important. "I don't want you to go," she told him in a shaky voice. He made to speak again but she held up a hand and continued. "But I understand your decision even if I don't like it. I know what it's like to want to make your own path in life," she smiled softly. She looked down, playing with her fingers. "I just – I feel like we were becoming really good friends. You're one of the only people here that I feel that I can truly talk to. You've been kinder to me than I could have thought possible."
Jon's smile was sad. "You've been a friend to me as well, Maliya, but even more than that, you've become family. You're tough and you have a large heart, but most importantly you're not afraid to speak your mind. I'm glad Robb has someone like you." Maliya had to bite her lip as her eyes began to fill. This was hitting her absurdly hard and she felt like she was saying goodbye to her family all over again. "Come here," he murmured, standing and pulling her to her feet so he could pull her into a hug. He was still completely soaked, but Maliya didn't care. "This isn't goodbye Maliya," he told her lightly, pulling away. "I'm only moving a few hours further north, we can – "
A sudden blinding light filled the room along with the earsplitting sound of splintering wood and a defeaning crack of thunder. Maliya was knocked aside by the falling beams and was sent crashing through the nearest bookshelf, books tumbling down on top of her, one heavy one in particular hitting her in the temple and knocking her out.
Maliya groaned when she came to again, squinting and blinking against her blurry vision and the strange ringing in her ears. It took a few moments for her eyes and senses to clear, wrinkling her nose at the strange smell. Feeling shaky slightly sick, she struggled to sit up, pushing books and splinters of wood off her body.
She hissed in pain when she tried to pull her left leg out from under a wooden beam, and gritted her teeth as she used all her strength to push it off. Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly as the floor tilted alarmingly.
Thick, black smoke hovered throughout the room, causing her to choke immediately, her eyes watering with pain as she tried to squint through it. A large, jagged hole shone in the roof of the library where the lightning had smashed through it. Rain came pouring down inside of it, but there was nothing that could be done about the raging, fiery infurno that the lightning had created when it met the wood.
The flames burned with colors that she didn't think would be possible, and they roared louder than she would have imagined. She watched, fascinated and entranced as the flames danced and leapt, only making brief contact with more books and wood before they instantly became engulfed as well. She could feel the heat of the flames as they slowly approached her like an old friend, but there was no pain on her skin.
It was beautiful. She forgot about the twinge of pain in her ankle or the black smoke invading her lungs. There was nothing but the heat of the fire that beckoned to her, calling her name in a seductive voice.
Slowly, as if in a daze, she reached out a hand to let the flames give it a lick when Jon's face suddenly appeared in her vision, his expression frantic and his eyes wild, a cut dripping blood down his face. His hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly and she focused on him, his shouting voice finally beginning to clear and make sense. " – need to go, we have to get out of here! Let's go, move!"
Reality came crashing back down and she began coughing immediately, looking around with frightened eyes. All of the sudden the flames didn't look so inviting anymore and she knew that if they didn't get out of there, they were going to die.
She nodded, raising her elbow to try and breathe into her cloak, her eyes watering. Jon grabbed her other hand and they began to hurry towards the exit, having to stop multiple times to find another clear path. The flames licked at them as they passed, but they seemed not to notice the pain in their frantic effort to find the exit. All of the sudden her crazed, disjointed mind remembered the books that she had been reading. "Wait!" She cried, tugging her hand free from Jon's and hurrying back the way they had come. She heard him shouting behind her but continued on. The table where she had been reading was destroyed, the books littering the floor. She grabbed as many of them as she could before Jon was grabbing her around the waist and hauling her away, yelling about how crazy she was. She didn't answer him, clutching the only ties to her family that she left here in Winterfell.
She could barely breathe, the smoke hovering thickly around them, and it was hard to see. What wasn't hard to miss, however, was the flaming beam from the roof that was blocking their way to the stairwell that led outside and to safety. Maliya looked up at him wildly. "Is there another way out?" She shouted, her heart wildly beating. Jon looked lost and confused as he shook his head.
Maliya's mind leapt from one frantic thought to the next. How ironic was this. Her family's motto was "Fire and Blood" and she was about to die in an actual fire. The thought of her family only fueled her determination and she turned to Jon with a scowl on her face. "Give me your cloak." At his mystified look, she glared at him and shouted. "Give me your fucking cloak Jon Snow! I am not dying up here, do you understand me?" He nodded, his jaw setting as he reached up to give her his cloak. She shoved the books into his chest and took over her own cloak as well. "We're going to put these over the beams. It might stifle the flames for a moment and we are going to use that and jump over it. It's better to be burned with a few broken bones than dead."
"I'm ready," he shouted, taking his cloak back as she grabbed the books. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!" They got as close to the beam as possible, and threw their cloaks on it in a way that it covered as much space as possible. "Go, go, go!" Jon shouted, giving her a shove and making her go first. Maliya took a running start, but her injured ankle gave out as she approached the beam and she had to put a hand on it in order to vault herself over. She felt the flames licking against her hand for a moment and then she was flying, or falling rather, down the stairs. The books flew from her arms as she tumbled painfully, and she could hear the sounds of Jon following her down.
She winced as she finally came to a stop on the spiral staircase, but forced herself up. A huge wave of relief filled her as she saw Jon already getting to his feet and scrambled to pick up her books. She might have left a few behind however, because Jon grabbed her elbow and continued to pull her down the stairs. They ran a short distance from the tower and collapsed onto the grass once they reached the ground, coughing and gasping as they breathed in fresh air. Maliya looked up through the rain at the library tower to see the top of it engulfed in flames before turning to look at Jon.
She was shocked by what she saw. Sweat, blood and ashes covered him, but more than that there were several parts of his clothes that were burned, singed off completely. His skin was black from the soot, but there wasn't a single burn on him. She grabbed his arm, making him look at her in confusion as she ran her fingers over his skin. "You're not burned. Why didn't you burn?"
Jon looked down at his own arm before looking at her with wide eyes, holding her hand up close to his face and inspecting it carefully. "Neither did you!" He gaped at her, shaking his head. "I – I don't understand, I saw you put your hand on a beam that was on fire – "
Maliya pulled her hand away, and looked down at herself. The bottom of her dress was singed off and parts of her bare skin on her arm, stomach and leg were showing. "We – we should get somebody to help with the fire – "
"Listen," Jon told her, looking around into the darkness where they could hear the sounds of men shouting, the large bell beginning to toll.
"Jon! Maliya!" They turned to see Lord Stark running towards them, his face pale as his grey eyes quickly took in their singed clothing, formalities apparently forgotten. His expression darkened his eyes calculated as the moments passed. "Are you two alright?" He asked, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder and looking between them both.
"We're fine, Lord Stark," Maliya answered quickly. "We should get help – "
Lord Stark cut her off as if she hadn't even spoken. He took off his cloak and quickly draped it around her shoulders. "Listen to me very carefully," he urged them, speaking quickly. "Jon, I need you to go. Make sure no one sees you. Go to your room and don't come out until I come find you."
Jon looked bewildered, unable to comprehend what his father was telling him. "I don't understand – "
"And you don't need to," Lord Stark interjected, grey eyes thunderous. "Do as you're told! Go!" He gave Jon a small shove on the back and after one last wide eyed, confused glance at Maliya, he ran off into the darkness. "You're coming with me," he ordered her, grabbing her arm and hauling her off in the direction of the castle, taking a route where the people of Winterfell who were rushing to put out the fire would be unable to see them.
What they didn't see was a man in the shadws with a hood drawn over his head, watching the people of Winterfell rush around frantically to put out the fire.
"Lord Stark," she tried, slightly frightened by both the look on his face and his tight grip on her arm, as she hobbled along as quickly as her injured leg could go.
"Quiet," he growled, dragging her all the way to his office where two of his guards stood outside. "Stay here," he ordered, shutting her inside and leaving.
Maliya stood frozen to the spot for a moment, staring at the door as she reeled from the sudden turn of events, rainwater dripping off her to the floor. Looking down, she realized that she was still holding the slightly damp books. Not wanting to be caught with books about the Targaryens, Maliya looked around wildly for a place to stash them. Spotting a large bookshelf among one of the walls, Maliya hurried over and began dispersing her books among his, putting one on every shelf so he wouldn't notice anything out of place.
After that was done, she began to pace the room like a caged animal while she waited for Lord Stark to return. She had a terrible feeling about the way Lord Stark had looked at her outside and she was preparing herself for the worst.
She tensed as the door opened minutes later and Lord Stark entered, looking more solemn than she had ever seen him. His gray eyes were watching her closely and for one terrifying heartstopping moment, it looked as if he could see straight through her.
"I keep going over everything in my mind, repeating all the facts to myself in order to come up with another explanation," he began, his voice strong and threatening at the same time. "But there is nothing else that makes sense and all of the sudden several things seem to click into place. You see, I did some research on you, Maliya Martell of Dorne. I learned all about your fever and difficulties as a child and I know that you weren't shown to the people of Dorne until you were three or four years old. At the time, I thought nothing of it – it's not an uncommon occurrence for a parent to keep a sick child hidden in their home in the hopes that they'll recover. But I can't help but notice that you obviously got caught in the fire and yet you didn't burn. The Targaryens are the only ones who have that sort of relationship with fire, and there was only one girl around your age and given who you look like…"
Dread filled every inch of her body. She could hear her heart pounding loudly in her ears and yet outwardly she appeared deceptively calm. "Say what you mean to say, Lord Stark," she interrupted in a strong voice, her fingers twitching in preparation.
His grey eyes were unflinching as they met hers. "Elia Martell was not your aunt. She was your mother. Your real name is Rhaenys Targaryen."
Before he had even finished speaking, Maliya was lunging across the room, one hand reaching to her thigh sheath as she pinned Lord Stark against the wall, her dagger pressed against his throat.
Author's Note: Don't hate me for that cliffhanger! Or that almost kiss! This scene came to me recently and I couldn't not add it in. What do you think will happen now that Lord Stark knows the truth? Any other theories from the little clues that I left this chapter?
LOTS of exciting things happening next chapter: several goodbyes, Maliya receives long awaited letters, an appearance from someone we haven't seen in a while and something else that I don't even want to mention!
Don't forget to leave a review before you leave!
Guest 1 – Thanks for your review and for letting me know what you would like to see from the story! I don't want to say too much, but I definitely have ideas about who she really is and if she will become the Queen of Westeros. I hope you tune in to find out!
Juti – I am trying to stay on the storyline! But at the same time, I want to twist events in a different way. The Red Wedding is still far off, although I have a general idea of what I want to happen. Thanks for your review!
Boramir – Thanks for your review, I'm glad you liked the chapter!
Lisa – I'm so happy you think their relationship is progressing at the right place! It's a bit slower than I am used to and I don't want it to become broing or stagnant! Thanks for your review
Ana – Given their age and lack of experience I tried to make their relationship as realistic as possible. Thanks for your review, I'm glad that chapter was your favorite!
Guest 2 – You're too kind! I'm glad you stumbled upon this story as well, I hope you like this next chapter!
Guest 3 – I feel like there aren't enough stories about the martells and the ones that aren't out there don't do them justice. So I'm flattered that you like the premise for this story so far! Thanks for your review!
Guest 4 – Thanks for your review, hope you liked the update!