Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! As always, your responses are much appreciated and loved. Don't get too used to updates this quickly, I had off last week and managed to get most of this written!
I feel like an idiot having to do this, but I realized that my timeline didn't quite workout with the rest of my plot, so I've had to change it yet again - hopefully for the last time! Robert's Rebellion will have taken place 16 years ago instead of 13. Everyone's ages are going to stay the same except for Maliya's - she'll be 18 turning 19. I'm going to go back and read through the previous chapters and make sure everything is now the same. Sorry about that!
Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Special thanks for Maddie Rose for reading through this! Don't forget to review :)
Chapter 10: Acceptance
Maliya stared down at her dragon egg, contemplating it with a frown. She had been sneaking down into the crypts every night for the past week, trying in vain to get it to hatch. Unsurprisingly, she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. The only thing she knew about dragons was that they could grow to be very large and could breathe fire. So naturally, her first thought to get the egg to hatch was obviously fire.
She had tried everything. Surrounding the egg with fire, putting it in the fire and even praying over the damn thing while it glowed from the fire. Nothing worked. The little bubble of hope that had been growing inside her since she had found the dragon egg was slowly beginning to fade. There was a reason that dragons hadn't existed for centuries. Rumors existed of petrified dragon eggs all over the world that have never hatched.
Frustrated all over again, Maliya grudgingly realized that she might have to accept that her dragon egg had turned to stone as well. Because she had no idea what else to try, and it wasn't like it would have been written down in one of Winterfell's burned books. The secret of hatching a dragon had probably been lost for hundreds of years now.
The question was, what did she do with it now? The thought crossed her mind that many people would pay an obsene amount of gold dragons for a dragon egg, but as soon as she thought it, she shook her head in disgust. Maliya was the blood of the dragon, even giving a stone egg away would be going against her family. Besides, the dragon egg was hers. She was the one who had found it, even though technically it was in the crypts of Winterfell. Showing it to her husband was out of the question. She might be beginning to trust him with her emotionally and physically, but she didn't know what he would do with a dragon egg.
Stifling a sigh and realizing that she had probably been down here for too long, Maliya carefully picked the egg up again and placed in inside the small chest that she had secretly gotten made. It was the first thing that she had done when she had found it. First she had bought a chest that was just the right size, then had it laid with a cushion, a depression in the middle where the egg would go. Running her hand over the egg reverently, she reluctantly placed it inside and closed the chest, glad at least that it would be safe if there were any more cave ins. She would have hidden it somewhere in her room, but she didn't want Robb stumbling across it by accident.
After crawling out of the small tunnel and re-pressing the stone jewel on Cregan Stark's sword, Maliya dusted off the dirt from her dress, reclaimed her torch and headed with the many stairs that led out of the crypts. She put the torch back just inside the doors and pushed them open, a frown still on her face.
"Lady Stark." Gasping in surprise, Maliya jumped, her hand flying to her chest, so distracted by thoughts of the egg that she didn't even notice someone had been walking by the crypt.
"Maester Luwin!" She greeted breathlessly, trying to slow her rapid beating heart. Trying to plaster a smile on her face to deter his curious gaze moving from the crypt back to her. "Was there something that you needed?"
"Yes, actually." Her tactic worked as now Maester Luwin cleared his throat and began to focus on what he came here for. "It appears that Lord Tyrion Lannister is stopping here on his way back from the Wall. Lord Robb is requesting your presence in the Great Hall to receive him."
"The whore is pregnant," Robert spat, a dark look in his eye that Ned didn't like.
"You're speaking of murdering a child – "
"I warned you this would happen," Robert continued as if Ned hasn't spoken at all. "Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear! Well, hear it now! I want 'em dead, mother and child both! And that fool, Viserys as well, is that plain enough for you? I want them dead."
The rest of the Small Council, Lord Varys, Grandmaester Pycelle, Renly Baratheon, Petyr Baelish and Ser Barristan Selmy, looked extremely uncomfortable, but that wasn't going to stop Ned from being straight with the King. Ned almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. His friend, someone who he had known since childhood, was talking of murdering a girl, a child, all because she may be pregnant.
He had to make Robert see sense. "You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this – "
"Honor?" Robert roared. "I've got seven kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms! Do you think honor keeps them in line? Do you think its honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear, fear and blood – "
"Then we're no better than the Mad King – "
"Careful Ned, careful now!"
"Robert," he pleaded, stepping forward, and trying to implore his friend instead of the King. "I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children!"
"To put an end to Targaryens!" Robert growled, slamming his fist down on the table.
Feeling the panic begin to rise within him, he decided to change tactics. "You want to assassinate a girl, because the spider heard a rumor."
Lord Varys actually looked affronted as he leaned forward in his chair to speak up. "No rumor, My Lord, the princess is with child."
"Based on whose information?" Ned demanded instantly, only growing more incensed when he heard Varys' answer.
"Ser Jorah Mormont. He's serving as advisor to the Targaryens."
"Mormont," Ned repeated in disgust, hardly able to believe it. "You bring whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact."
"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor!" Baelish chuckled, a smile on his face that made Ned want to punch him. "Small difference, I know, to an honorable man."
"He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our lands!" Ned retorted, his voice unconsciously rising at the mention of that traitor. "We commit murder on the word of this man?"
"And if he's right?" Robert questioned, raising his eyebrows. "If she has a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army, what then?"
"The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day the teach their horses to run on water."
"Do nothing. That's your wise advice? Do nothing until our enemies are on our shores?" He growled in irritation, glancing around at the men sitting around him. "You're my council, council him! Speak sense to this honorable fool."
One by one, each man spoke their minds, some of them trying to switch Ned to their side.
"I understand your misgivings, My Lord, truly I do!" Lord Varys hurried to placate him, his voice sickly sweet. "It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing! Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Danaerys a son, the realm will bleed."
Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, "Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard." Robert's eyes darkened at the answer, but Ned inclined his head toward the older man respectfully.
"I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die, how many towns will burn?" Grandmaester Pycelle questioned, slowly and carefully turning his body to face Ned. "Is it not wiser, is it not kinder that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"
With that sort of thinking, one could explain away anything, Ned thought in anger.
"We should have had them both killed years ago," Renly Baratheon said flippantly, waving a hand.
"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it." Littlefinger announced, raising his cup for a drink.
Ned was done listening to these kiss ass fools. He approached the table where the King was sitting, making sure he heard the next few words. "I followed you into war. Twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert that I grew up with wouldn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."
Ned was against the killing of children to begin with, but after discovering the fact that his good daughter was actually Rhaenys Targaryen, he couldn't knowingly stand by and watch as her aunt was murdered. The thought sickened him to the point where he thought he was either going to puke or start shouting.
The King answered his unflinching gaze with one of his own. "She dies."
"I will have no part of it," Ned snapped.
"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark, you will do as I command or I'll find me a hand who will."
Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He tossed it onto the table, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved."Then good luck to him. I thought you were a better man than this. A better King."
Robert's face was purple. "Out," he croaked, choking on his rage. "Out, damn you, I'm done with you! Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike. I'll put it there myself you fool!"
There was one thing that Robert was right about. Ned was getting his girls and he was going home.
Maliya strode into the Great Hall, Maester Luwin following along at her heels. Her brown eyes scanned the room quickly, taking everything in. A dozen guards lined either side, the tables pushed to the side to receive their guests. Theon was standing in front of the steps and Grey Wind was lounging at the top of them. Robb was sitting up at the high table in his father's seat, his figure imposing. Maliya frowned at the look on his face; she could almost feel the icy breeze from his gaze.
"Ah, Lady Stark!" Her attention was diverted to the smaller man standing in front of the table next to some guards from the Night's Watch. "It is so nice to see you again."
"Lord Tyrion," Maliya greeted, pausing beside him as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before continuing up to take her seat beside Robb, Maester Luwin on the other side. "It is nice to – "
"Why have you come here, Lannister?" Robb interrupted, his voice as icy as his blue eyes. Maliya's mouth snapped shut, her nostrils flaring as he blatantly and very rudely cut her off. It took a second, but she managed to rearrange her pissed off expression. It took another second for Maliya to figure out what Robb's problem was and she couldn't believe she didn't see it sooner. Lord Tyrion was a Lannister and the Lannisters had attempted to kill Bran.
Why didn't Maliya group Lord Tyrion into that Lannister category?
Lord Tyrion's eyes slowly moved from Maliya to Robb, his expression considerably cooler, though Maliya thought she saw some amusement in his mismatched eyes. "I have business with your brother, Bran."
She could feel Robb stiffen beside her, his jaw ticking. "And what business could you possibly have with my nine year old brother?"
Lord Tyrion tilted his head to the side, smiling politely. "That is something that I would like to discuss with your brother."
Robb stared at him for a long moment. "Theon, fetch Hodor and bring Bran down here," he commanded, his eyes still on Lord Tyrion. Theon bowed and left the Great Hall, and it was only then that Robb spoke again, turning his attention to the guards of the Night's Watch. "Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome here at Winterfell for as long as he wishes to stay."
Maliya's eyebrows rose into the air, wondering when he had become so rash and reckless. To deliberately deny or violate guest rights was a seriously dangerous line to walk on in view of both the old gods and the new.
Lord Tyrion recognized the slight, gazing at him with shrewd eyes. "Any man of the Nights Watch, but not me, do I take your meaning, boy?"
Maliya laid a restraining hand on Robb's arm, her smile back in place. "I'm sure that's not what my husband meant. Can we get some bread and salt for Lord Tyrion?" Maliya asked, glancing at one of the guards standing to her left. "Of course you are welcome here – "
Robb shot her a withering glance meant to silence her and she withdrew her hand back into her own lap, stung. "I am not your boy, Lannister. I am Lord of Winterfell while my father and mother are away."
Lord Tyrion's gaze was piercing. "Then perhaps you might learn a lord's courtesy, something your lovely wife seems to understand better than you," he drawled, nodding his head respectfully towards her before turning his gaze back to Robb. "It would appear that your bastard brother has all your father's graces."
Maliya inwardly winced, wondering what Robb would say to that, but was saved from having to find out by the appearance of Bran and Hodor. Her heart ached as she watched Bran's legs swing uselessly from where Hodor has him clutched against his chest. Her eyes flickered to Tyrion to see his reaction and was surprised to find that the small man looked sympathetic. "So it's true," he commented softly. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"
"He has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin answered, raising his voice slightly.
"Curious," Lord Tyrion murmured. It looked like his mind was racing and Maliya would have paid no small amount of money to know what he was thinking.
"Why are you here?" Robb asked again in a hard voice.
"Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel, my neck is beginning to hurt," Lord Tyrion told Bran in a pleasant voice, completely different than the one he used with Robb. Bran gave the order and Tyrion continued. "Do you like to ride, Bran?"
"Yes," Bran answered instantly, his automatic smile fading almost at once. "I mean I did like to."
"The boy's lost the use of his legs," Maester Luwin pointed out.
"What of it?" Lord Tyrion asked with a scathing look. "With the right horse and saddle even a cripple can ride."
"I'm not a cripple," Bran told him in a thick voice, tears springing to his eyes.
"Then I'm not a dwarf!" Lord Tyrion cried in a slightly teasing voice. "My father will rejoice to hear it." Maliya hid the grin that threatened to cross her face, remembering what he had said about his father in the library tower that night. "I have a gift for you. Give this to your saddler, he'll provide the rest." He handed a roll of parchment to Bran, who unrolled it and looked down. Tyrion, however, looked back up at the high table. "You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and train it to respond to the reins and to the boys voice."
"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran asked in a small, hopeful voice, the beginnings of the first smile that Maliya had seen since he fell start to spread across his face.
"You will," Lord Tyrion declared, smiling in return. "On a horse, you will be as tall as any of them."
Theon passed the drawing from Bran up to Robb. Maliya examined it briefly over his shoulder and had to admit she was impressed. "Did you create this yourself, Lord Tyrion? You draw very well."
"Thank you, My Lady," Lord Tyrion grinned, inclining his head slightly. "It is not unlike some of my own saddles."
"Is this some sort of trick?" Robb interrupted, glancing up from the drawing with blue eyes full of mistrust. "Why do you want to help him?"
Lord Tyrion's expression went flat. "Your brother Jon asked it of me. I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."
Robb shifted slightly in his seat, jaw working once more. "You have done my brother a kindness, Lord Tyrion," he grudgingly admitted, realizing that he may have been wrong. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours – "
"Spare me your false curtesies, Lord Stark," Lord Tyrion interrupted in a loud, drawling voice. "There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier." He turned to Maliya and bowed slightly again. "Always a pleasure, My Lady," he murmured before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall, his guards on his heels.
Maliya waited until the door slammed behind him before turning to face her husband with raised eyebrows. "Well, that certainly could have been handled better," she murmured, her eyes searching his frustrated gaze.
"May I speak with you, please?" Robb asked in a quiet, strained voice. He left her no room for refusal as he took her arm, guiding her out of the chair and across the hall. Even the clicking of his boots beside her sounded angry and she knew she was in for it.
"What is your problem?" he demanded, blue eyes flashing dangerously as he glared down at her, still moving quickly through the corridor. "You can't interrupt me like that when we have guests, Maliya, it undermines my authority as the Lord of Winterfell – "
"Did your father ever teach you how to be Lord of Winterfell?" Maliya shot back, returning his glare. "You can't just deny a man as powerful as Tyrion Lannister guest rights, Robb! It wasn't exactly the smartest move – "
"The Lannisters tried to – " He abruptly cut himself off as a maid hesitantly walked passed them, shooting them an odd look. Growling in frustration, Robb grabbed her hand, looked around quickly and pulled her into one of Winterfell's storage rooms. Maliya raised her eyebrows at him, but he just continued to hiss at her. "The Lannisters tried to murder my little brother. Or have you forgotten?"
"Of course not," Maliya snapped, offended that he would even say such a thing. "But I don't think it was Lord Tyrion – "
"Why, because he can be witty and charming – "
"No! He was trying to help Bran with this saddle, why would he help him – "
"Maybe he was feeling guilty!" Robb cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What proof do you have that Lord Tyrion was not the one that tried to kill Bran?"
Maliya mouth wordlessly for a moment before shaking her head, deflating slightly. "You're right," she admitted, conceding defeat. "I don't have any proof. My first instinct is to like Lord Tyrion, but I don't know him. He very well could have had something to do with Bran's fall."
Robb blinked, seeming surprised that she was agreeing with him. "Right," he nodded, seeming slightly thrown off. "And I know I was wrong as well. It was a mistake not to offer him guest rights." A shamed expression crossed his face, making him look more like a boy than a lord. "In this moment I feel grateful that my father wasn't here to witness that fuck up."
Maliya's heart went out to him. Hesitating only for a moment, she reached out to put a hand on his arm. "Your father hasn't been gone for that long, Robb, we're both learning as we go. It can be hard to separate what you feel in your heart from what you know in your head."
Robb looked down at her hand on his arm, smiling slightly. "Look at us, Princess," he murmured, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. Her pulse racheted up several notches as it always did whenever he touched her of late. "Both of us admitting that we were wrong and having a discussion like a true, unified team."
Maliya's eyes flickered down to his lips as he slowly and deliberately moved closer to her, her response completely lost as her mouth went dry. His blue eyes flickered between hers, searching for something that she didn't understand before he pressed his lips to hers in the softest of kisses. Heart pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest, Maliya's eyes fluttered closed as she followed his lead.
She felt incredibly lightheaded as her lips parted beneath his, leaning into him for support. The kiss gradually deepened as Robb's other hand came up to thread into her hair. The fire between the two of them grew as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Standing on her tiptoes so she could reach him better, Maliya's hands tracing up his arms to tangle in his curls, pulling him even closer to her. He made a low sound of approval in his throat, which did strange things to her insides. Just as with their last kiss, Maliya forgot everything – Lord Tyrion's visit, her and Robb's argument, where they currently were. All she could do was feel Robb's lips moving seductively against hers, his hand coming to the small of her back to bow her against him.
She barely felt her back hitting the wooden shelves as Robb walked her forward and pinned her against it. Panting heavily, Robb pulled away for air, her head involuntarily tilting to the side as he just moved his lips to her neck, kissing and nipping his way down to her shoulder. One of his hands trailed down her side and her leg, grabbing behind her knee and hitching her leg up so he could press against her. Maliya gasped as she felt his hardness pressed against her, her lower belly flooding with heat as her hips involuntarily rocked against him.
While she wasn't entirely sure she could comprehend what was happening to her body, Maliya definitely knew that she wanted more. "Vūjigo yne." Kiss me, she muttered breathlessly, her hands coming up to cup his face and bring his lips back to hers, devouring him greedily.
The door to the storage room burst open and a maid with a bucket full of dirty water walked in. She shrieked in surprise at the sight of them, dropping the bucket as she clapped a hand over her eyes. Robb and Maliya jerked apart at the intrusion, their heads jerking toward the door. "My Lord!" The lady squeaked in an embarrassed voice, her face flaming under her hand. "My Lady! I – I'm so sorry! I'll just – " Fumbling with the door with her eyes still covered, she hurriedly shut the door and ran away.
Groaning, Maliya's head dropped forward against Robb's chest, her hands dropping from his face to cover her own. "Gods," Maliya groaned, feeling humiliated.
Robb chuckled, placing a knuckle under her chin and lifting her face to his. "It's alright, she won't say anything. We are the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, after all."
Maliya smiled back, arms threading around his neck. "I like the sound of that," she whispered, raising herself up and kissing him once more.
Robb kissed her back for a few moments but his hands eventually came up to pull hers away before taking a large step back. He took a deep, steadying breath, his hair messed from her hands in a sexy way, his lips slightly swollen and his eyes bright. "I need to go," he told her uncertainly, his voice husky. His eyes carefully raked over her, making him swallow harshly. "Yeah, I definitely need to go," he nodded resolutely.
"What?" Maliya asked in confusion, stepping towards him once more and making him step back again. "Why? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that you look that that," he told her, waving a hand in her general direction. "And if I don't leave now then I'm going to end up taking you against these shelves in this dirty storage room and you deserve better than that for your first time." Maliya mouthed at him wordlessly, both taken aback and turned on by his words. She had half a mind to tell him that it didn't matter and pull him back into her arms. "I'm not going to do anything unless you want to, Maliya. This decision is up to you."
And with one last look and a shake of his head, Robb left, leaving Maliya to watch him go, feeling conflicted.
"Come on, Bran, you can do it!" Maliya encouraged from where she was sitting on one of the benches outside. Grey Wind was lounging next to her, his large head in her lap, his eyes closed as she lightly scratched behind his ears.
Bran was sitting atop his new horse, his legs tightly encased in his new saddle. His body was slumped forward against the horse's neck, his expression uncertain. "Alright Bran, I want you to try sitting up now," Robb said soothingly to him from his position right beside the horse. "I'm going to be right here in case you fall."
"Don't worry, Summer," Maliya murmured to the tense direwolf beside her, his eyes locked onto his master as if he could sense that something could go wrong. "Bran's going to be just fine."
Taking a deep breath, Bran nodded to Robb, grabbed hold of the horse's mane and slowly pushed himself up. Maliya held her breath as she watched him pause, swaying slightly. "Tighten your stomach," Robb coached, holding his hands up just in case Bran swayed too far. "Good! Good, Bran, how does that feel? You doing alright?"
"I'm doing great," Bran grinned breathlessly, his brown eyes holding a life in them that Maliya rarely saw anymore. "Can we go for a ride soon, Robb?"
Robb chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite yet. Let's take it slow."
Bran nodded reluctantly. "Lord Tyrion said that I have to train the horse to respond to my voice and the reins. How do I do that?"
"Well unfortunately, without the expertise of our Horse Master, Hullen, we're going to have to learn how to do that together."
Maliya watched them with a fond smile on her face, her head tilted to the side. She really enjoyed seeing Robb interact with his siblings, even if there were only two of them here. It was so different from the face of the Lord he put on when dealing with his guards and subjects. It was even different from the way he acted with her – and it made her like him all the more.
She couldn't have ever pictured herself in this position. To be with a man she was forced to marry, from a family that she had thought helped kill her own. Their relationship was at this pivotal tipping point. He was a man that she had hated at first, one that she would involuntarily flinch away from, and one that she didn't respect or trust in the slightest.
But somehow, between her realizing the Starks didn't deserve her anger or thirst for revenge, she had come to care for him "as more than a friend." He was a strong, king, honorable person, a good son and brother. A little hot headed and over protective to be sure, but everyone had their flaws. And the way he kissed her, the warm, delicious way he made her body feel… it was intoxicating.
A wry smile touched her lips. Her sister always did have incredible timing; her letter of advice was impeccable. Maybe it was something that she would act upon.
Her eyes moved to Bran's face, the look of concentration and determination on his little face just wrenching at her heart. He was a nine-year-old little boy and had already suffered more than grown men five times his age. He should still be smiling and laughing, running along the rooftops and playing with the wolves and his brother.
Theon walked by heading to the stables and an idea sparked in her mind. Petting Grey Wind's head one more time, Maliya stood and followed him inside, leaning against the stall door and crossing her arms. Theon looked up at her from where he was saddling his horse and Maliya smirked at him. "Hi there, Greyjoy. I believe that there's a bet that needs to be fulfilled."
"You look mighty pleased with yourself," Robb commented to her softly during supper, leaning close to her.
"Do I?" Maliya asked innocently, turning to him with a smile and taking a sip of wine from her cup. "I can't imagine why."
Robb tilted his head to the side, his blue eyes narrowing in speculation. "Just what have you been up to, wife?" He murmured.
Maliya opened her mouth to answer him when Bran interrupted from Robb's other side. "May I be excused, Robb?" He asked in a solemn voice.
Robb's gaze turned concerned as he looked at his little brother. "Bran, I've been watching you all night, you've barely eaten anything."
"I'm just tired," Bran told him, pushing his plate away.
Maliya leaned on the table a bit so she could see Bran around Robb. "In a bit, alright, Bran?" She said in a soft voice. "You and Rickon might just find this night gets even more entertaining than you thought."
"Why?" Rickon piped up, taking a bite of his biscuit. "What's going to happen?"
Movement caught the corner of her eye and her grin widened until she felt positively gleeful. "You know, little man, I think you're about to find out."
Robb straightened as he followed her gaze and looked like he was about to stand from his chair. "What in the seven hells…"
Maliya grabbed his arm, halting his progress. "Remember that bet from the day my Uncle Oberyn trained Bran?"
"Is that Theon?" Rickon asked in a loud, shocked voice, his eyes wide even as he laughed. "Why is he almost naked?"
Maliya leaned an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand as she grinned down at the rest of the Great Hall. Whispers, gasps and chuckles of disbelief began to spread through the room as Theon walked among the tables, clambering on one of the empty ones in the middle. His face was beet red, in stark contrast to the rest of his pale body and white undergarments.
He took a deep breath, spread his arms wide and sang in a terribly off key voice, "A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair."
She could hear Robb laughing beside her, but her attention was focused on Bran. The smile was small at first, but soon enough he was laughing and clapping along with the rest of the people of Winterfell. It may have been extremely embarrassing act for him, but he was handling it in typical Theon fashion. The mocking laughs turned to encouraging cheers as Theon theatrically sang from table to table, but Maliya didn't care. Her goal here wasn't to humiliate Theon, even though deflating his ego wouldn't be a bad thing, but to allow Rickon and Bran a few brief minutes to laugh and forget everything that's been happening around them.
Her attention was diverted as Robb slid an arm around her back. "I know what you're doing, Lady Stark," Robb murmured in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple before pulling back slightly to look her in the eye, his expression tender. "Thank you."
"They're my family," Maliya told him simply, shrugging. "Those little weasels weasled their way into my heart."
Robb's mouth parted slightly, but both of them had to pause in their conversation and look around as Theon approached the steps leading to the high table for the big finish. "Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air! My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! And off they went, from here to there, the bear, the bear, and the maiden fair!" He held the last note for a long moment, making Maliya wince slightly at how off key it was, spread his arms wide and took a deep, sweeping bow.
The Great Hall erupted into applause and Maliya joined in, slowly clapping as Theon turned around to face her and raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well done, Theon," she congratulated. "I'm impressed," she complimented, leaning forward and dropping her voice slightly. She remembered Theon's words from the day that she had made that bet. "Although now that I've seen what you're working with…" She dropped her gaze pointedly, and a knowing smirk spread across Theon's face. "I have to admit that I much prefer my husband in every which way."
"Alright," Robb laughed as a dark look crossed Theon's face. "Enough you two, you've had your fun. Theon, go put some clothes on before this image is permanently burned in my mind."
"Theon did that because you beat him at shooting arrows, right?" Bran asked, the smile still on his face. Bran shook his head when Maliya nodded. "I thought you had forgotten about that!"
"That was funny," Rickon piped up, grinning at them all. "But Theon's not a very good singer, is he?"
"Maliya?" A trembling voice whispered, a finger lightly tapping her shoulder. "Maliya, wake up!" Startled, Maliya jerked awake, her eyes snapping open and locked on a small, scared looking Rickon. She frowned and started to sit up, but Robb gave a grumbling sigh, the arm that was thrown across her waist, tightening slightly and making her body flush. She glanced over at where he was sleeping on his stomach, his head buried in his pillow and back at Rickon.
"Are you okay?" Maliya asked quietly, noting the tears swimming in his normally bright eyes. "What's wrong?" Thunder crashed outside, making Rickon jump and whimper and Maliya understood. "Are you scared of the storm?" Rickon nodded. "Do you want to sleep in bed with us?" He shook his head. Frown deepening, Maliya carefully extracted herself from Robb's arm, holding her breath as he grumbled again, his arm reaching, finding her pillow and pulling that close to him. Getting out of bed and wrapping her robe around herself, Maliya took Rickon's hand and started towards the door. "Alright, come on. I'll bring you back to bed – "
"No," Rickon protested, tugging on her hand. "No, I don't want to go to sleep. I can't."
Maliya knelt down to his level, rubbing her hands up and down his arms, at a complete loss as to what to do to help him. "Do you want to wake Robb – "
"No!" Rickon whispered frantically, shaking his head. "I don't want him to know."
"Okay. Okay," she muttered, casting her mind around in a desperate attempt to help him. "Oh!" She exclaimed excitedly. "You know what my sister and I would do for my little brother when he woke up from a nightmare?" Rickon shook his head, his eyes flickering to the window as thunder crashed outside again. "We would sneak down to the kitchens while everyone was asleep and we would make some pie!"
"Pie?" Rickon questioned in a small voice, peeking up at her from under his eyelashes.
Maliya smiled – she knew she had him. "Pie," she repeated, in an enthusiastic voice. "My sister always told Trystane and I what to do, but I think I remember the basics. Would you like to sneak downstairs and make some pie, Rickon Stark?"
"Can we really?" Rickon asked, his eyes beginning to light up.
"Sure!" Standing, she grabbed his hand again and they left her bedchambers and headed for the kitchens. "How hard can it be?"
"So, what do we need?" Rickon asked once they had successfully snuck into the kitchens without running into anyone.
He looked up at her expectantly, and Maliya screwed up her face, trying to remember all the ingredients that Arianne used to bark at them. "Hmmm, we need flour, salt, eggs, sugar and… water, I think?" She looked at him expectantly and raised her eyebrows. "Well? This is your home, Rick, I don't know where anything is!"
Rickon put his hands on his hips and gave her an exasperated look that was quite amusing on a five year old's face. "I've never even been in the kitchens! And besides, this is your home now, too, Maliya."
"Thanks, little man," Maliya smiled, ruffling his hair and feeling incredibly touched. "That means a lot. Now come on, we have some ingredient hunting to do."
Ten minutes later, they had the ingredients and tools piled on the table in front of them after scouring every inch of the kitchens. "Now what?" Rickon asked her from the stool he was sitting on.
"First we need to add the flour, sugar and salt," Maliya told him, nodding, grinning when she remembered that bit.
Rickon reached for the flour and paused. "How much?"
Maliya frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm… not sure," she admitted, scratching her head. "A few handfuls maybe? I guess we'll just have to try and see how it comes out." Rickon shrugged carelessly. "Right! So the first thing you have to do is…."
Rickon listened to her directions with an intense look of concentration, his brow furrowed as he stirred the mixture, Maliya adding water every now and again until it combined into dough. She watched him knead and roll it out and decided to take a chance. "So, I never knew that you didn't like thunderstorms," she ventured, searching for information. Rickon paused slightly, but kept silent and Maliya backtracked, not wanting to upset him. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I didn't use to mind thunderstorms," Rickon protested after a moment, beating into the dough harder than necessary. "But… the lightning started the fire in the library tower – Jory said you could have died."
Guilt shot through her, hard and fast. "Oh Rickon, it's alright, I'm fine!" She assured him softly, putting a hand on his back. "Nothing happened to me, I'm still here."
"I know," Rickon admitted, looking up at her with big, worried eyes. "But what if the lightning starts another fire? And what if we can't get out?"
"Listen very carefully to what I say next, Rickon," Maliya told him in a serious voice, making sure he was paying attention. "The fire in the library tower was just an accident. The chances of another lightning strike hitting Winterfell's castle are very slim, and even if it did happen, the castle is made of stone not wood." He nodded solemnly at her response and Maliya frowned at him, determined to make him smile once more. Surreptisiously sticking her finger in the flour, Maliya turned his face toward her, squinting at him. "You know, you've got something right… there!" Eyes widening, Rickon rubbed his cheek where she had rubbed the flour and a slow grin spread across his face. Deliberately reaching across the table, he grabbed a fistful of flour. "Don't you even think about it, Rickon Stark," Maliya warned, holding her finger up at him. She hadn't even thought about his possible retaliation.
Grinning wickedly, Rickon held his hand up and blew the flour with all his might so it puffed in a white cloud right in front of her face. Blinking rapidly and coughing slightly, she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow as Rickon burst out laughing. "Your…. Face...!" He gasped, doubling over.
"We're about to have a repeat of that snowball fight aren't we?" Maliya grinned, inching toward the flour. "Except now we're on opposing sides. Interesting…"
"You know, Maliya, for a princess you're not very ladylike."
Maliya paused, straightening slightly with a thoughtful look on her face. "I'm not sure whether that's an insult or a compliment."
"Compliment," Rickon nodded firmly. "You're very fun. I like having you around."
"Well, thank you – " She shrieked in outrage as Rickon used her distraction to lunge for the flour and throw a fistful at her. He leaped off the stool, chasing her around the kitchen and it was all downhill from there.
Rolling over and blinking awake at a particularly loud thunderclap, he lifted his head and looked over to Maliya's side of the bed only to realize that it was empty and he was sprawled across it diagonally. "Maliya?" He muttered in confusion, voice thick with sleep as he sat up and quickly scanned the room. When he realized she wasn't there at all, worry ate at him. He threw back the fur covers, slipping on his robe and leaving the room.
He wandered the corridors, wondering where in the seven hells could she be. He didn't even bother considering the fact that she may be outside – the rain was still falling heavily against the roof and the shutters. Venturing down the stairs, Robb approached one of the guards on his nightly rounds and asked in a pleasant voice. "Have you seen my wife? I fear she's wandering the corridors tonight."
"I have, My Lord," The guard inclined his head respectfully. "She was walking towards the Great Hall with Rickon." Robb's brow furrowed – what were she and Rickon up to. The guard hesitated slightly. "I apologize, Lord Stark, I would have stopped her, but she didn't seem to be in trouble – "
"Not to fear, I was just concerned when I saw she wasn't in our bedchambers. Thanks for your help Waylor." Robb clapped the man on the shoulder and continued on his way, turning into the Great Hall. His blue eyes scanned the room, frowning as he slowly walked through it. They were nowhere in sight. He was just about to turn and leave when the sound of Rickon's laughter drifted through the room, and Robb followed it, bewildered when it led him towards the kitchens.
His eyebrows shot up in shock as he stopped abruptly in the doorway. His gaze flickered from the flour all over kitchen – how did it get on the ceiling? – to his little brother sitting on the table with his legs kicking back and forth to his wife leaning against the wall, eating blueberries.
"What in the seven hells happened in here?" Robb asked, unable to stop his shocked grin from spreading across his face. "And why are the two of you completely covered in flour?"
"Hi Robb!" Rickon chirped, craning his head around to look at him, his white teeth matching the white flour on his face, his bright eyes blinking at him. "We were making - " He frowned, turning back around to look at Maliya. "Maliya, we forgot to finish the pie!"
She chuckled at the look of disappointment on his face, popping another blueberry in her mouth. "That's alright, Rick," she assured him. "I didn't really remember how to make that pie anyway. And we would have finished making the pie if you hadn't thrown flour in my face!"
Rickon's eyes widened in outrage as he pointed a finger at her. "You put flour on my face first!"
Robb quickly intervened as Maliya playfully narrowed her own eyes at him. "And why exactly were you attempting to make pie?" He asked, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow.
"I couldn't sleep," Rickon told him, looking away from him and fidgeting slightly. "And Maliya told me that when her or her brother couldn't sleep, her older sister distracted them by making pie!"
"Except after all these years it seems I've forgotten both the quantities and the actual ingredients that go into the pie," Maliya sighed, shaking her head. She peeked over at him, holding up the small bowl. "Would you like some blueberries? Where do you get these anyway, isn't it too cold up here to grow them?"
"We get them imported," Robb answered distractedly, entering the kitchen and walking over to Rickon. "Come on Rickon, it's late – or early rather. Let's get you back to bed."
"Do I have to?" He complained, face crumpling into a pout.
"Yes, I'm afraid you do. Come on," he grunted, lifting Rickon off the table and setting him on the floor. "I'm going to walk you to Waylor and he's going to find someone to clean you up and get you back into bed. I'm going to help Maliya clean the kitchen first."
"Fine," Rickon sighed dejectedly, turning to Maliya before he left and hugging her around the waist. "Thanks, Maliya. You always make me feel better," he murmured, closing his eyes tightly.
Robb watched Maliya smile fondly down at him, wrapping her arms around him for a quick squeeze. "Anytime, Rickon. Now off you go. I'll see you when you wake."
Rickon yawned as they headed back out through the Great Hall. It seemed that the adrenaline and the excitement were finally leaving his body and he grew tired again, his little body not used to be up at such hours. "Robb? I'm glad Mother and Father made you marry Maliya. She's not ever going to leave is she?"
Robb put an arm around his shoulder, giving him a small smile. "No, Rickon. She will not be going anywhere." He leaned down to whisper conspiratorily in his ear. "And can I tell you a secret? I'm glad that I'm married to her as well."
After Robb handed Rickon off to Waylor, he headed back towards the kitchens and found Maliya leisurely leaning back against the table, still popping blueberries into her mouth. He stopped in front of her, tilting his head to the side as he surveyed her crticially. "You know with all that flour in your hair, it's as if I'm looking at a future version of you."
Maliya pouted at him, then shrugged. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment, actually. It'll be a blessing if I age with little to no wrinkles."
"And I'm going to choose not to respond to that one," Robb wisely chuckled. "Come on, we should clean up a little."
She wrinkled her nose. "Do we have to?" She complained playfully, before raising an eyebrow. "I could think of much more fun things we could be doing."
A knowing smirk crossed her lips, her brown eyes dancing and Robb had to swallow hard at the tempting image that she posed. Her hair was still slightly mussed from sleep so it was a bit more wild than usual, her nightgown was thinner than her dresses and her robe was carelessly falling off one shoulder. "Maliya…" Robb warned, trying to keep the stirrings of arousal away.
"What?" She questioned innocently, her eyes widening. "Want a blueberry? They're really juicy – whoops!" She went to bite one in half and the juice spilled over her chin and onto her chest. Robb watched it trickle down, holding his breath, and when she shifted to look down at it, it went in between her breasts, her fingers diving after it.
Robb hastily looked away, feeling his lower torso tighten and cleared his throat loudly. "Alright! I've changed my mind. I am going to stay here and clean some of this up and you are going to wake your handmaiden and take a bath."
Maliya was finally distracted as she frowned up at him in confusion. "What? Robb, this isn't even your mess – "
"Just go, Princess. I don't want to argue about this." If she didn't leave soon, he wasn't sure that he would be able to control himself, and he had made her a promise that he was going to keep. She put the bowl of blueberries down on the table, still frowning slightly as she contemplated him thoughtfully. Robb's entire body tensed as she slowly approached him, her eyes flickering between both of his. He watched her warily as she stopped in front of him, close enough that he could feel her body heat and smell her somewhat floral scent. "Maliya," he began warily.
"Shhh," she murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. He felt his heart pounding rapidly, forcing himself to keep his hands to his sides as she put hers on his chest, leaning against him as she balanced on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was extremely soft, exploratory almost, and while it wasn't as heated as their previous one, it still took all his effort not to pull her in closer and deepen it. He followed her lead, drowning in the unhurried, cautious way that she kissed him. It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating and he was losing himself in her.
He blinked slowly in surprise as she pulled away, and he was glad to see that he wasn't the only one affected. Her eyes were definitely a shade darker and her cheeks were slightly flushed. "What was that for?" He asked in a husky voice.
"I wanted to," she murmured simply. "And I also wanted to say thank you. For being the kind, honorable man that everyone has been trying to tell me you are." A small smile played at the edges of her lips as she took a deep breath. "You've been very open and honest with your side of our relationship and I would like to do the same."
"Alright," Robb whispered, suddenly feeling very nervous.
Maliya shifted slightly, her cheeks turning a darker red. "You've made me feel things that nobody else has ever made me feel. It's new and exciting and also a little terrifying. And the way you look at me sometimes – like you are right now, actually – a strange combination of warmth and lust, makes me breathless and giddy. Just the fact that I feel comfortable enough to say these things to you is something that I never would have pictured myself doing." Her smile turned shy and he found it extremely adorable. "I feel… lucky and grateful that you are my husband, Robb Stark." Seemingly unable to resist, she pressed her lips to his once more. "Good night."
Robb gaped after her as she left, shooting him one last smile before walking out the door. He was beyond stunned at the way this night had turned around, but he didn't regret it for one second. In fact... he felt like their relationship had evolved yet again and he couldn't help his pleased grin at the potential that he and his wife had together.
Feeling clean and flour-free, Maliya quietly entered her bedchambers, holding the candle aloft as she carefully closed the door behind her. A glance towards the bed showed that Robb had finished cleaning the kitchens before her. It had taken her a while to rouse poor Julina from her sleep, fill and bath and then clean herself. Placing the candle on the small table beside the bed, Maliya slipped out of her robe and shivered in the cold, her wet hair dripping slightly down her back.
Hurrying into bed and burrowing deep under the furs, Maliya rolled over to blow out the candle. Despite being roused from her sleep, it had been a good night. As if sensing her presence, Robb rolled over to her, slipping his arm around her waist and letting out a contented sigh. Even though her heart skipped a beat at his touch, she couldn't help but smile. Arianne had been right it seemed – Maliya actually liked her husband.
Maybe it was time to take her sister's advice as far as other matters were concerned.
Author's Note: Well, there it is! Hopefully things didn't seem too slow this chapter, but I'm trying to get an equal balance of action and romance - and in a few chapters there's going to be nothing but action! Is everyone still enjoying the way the story and Robb/Maliya's relationship is progressing?
Next up: Bran get's attacked by wildlings and it's Robb/Maliya's first time - the rating will officially be bumped up to M next chapter. Would you guys rather read this from Robb or Maliya's POV?
Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter!
Guest 1 - Thanks for your reviewing! I'm so glad that you love the story next, I can't wait to read what you think about future chapters!
Guest 2 - Glad you liked it! Thanks for your review!
Boramir - Thanks! The other items in the crypt are pretty vague because it's being told from Maliya's POV and all she's really interested in is that egg! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Guest 3 - Thanks for reviewing. I appreciate your comments on the crypts and I'm glad you thought the chapter was great!
Samantha - I love that you loved the chapter :) I will definitely be bumping the rating up next chapter and you'll just have to wait and see what happens the the dragon egg!