This came to me as all great stories do. During a frantic, sleep-deprived study session for midterms back in October after watching Lily James and Richard Madden in Cinderella. I have no idea why I decided to keep working on it, before this I didn't even know I shipped Robb and Myrcella, yet here it is. I also had absolutely no plans on posting this, there's so much discord in the GoT fandom it is kind of terrifying for prospective authors. Thanks to my amazing friend and fellow nerd Kayla for editing this for me. I miss you girly!

She could remember when she first met Robb Stark. A girl of thirteen not quite flowered, visiting the North with her father and mother and the rest of the royal retinue. Mother had said the Northmen were wild savages and the North itself was a cold and hostile environment. In truth Myrcella found the hostile North beautiful and the Northmen were just the same as all the others in the South. Maybe just a bit hairier.

At the welcoming feast Robb had kissed her hand and led her to the great table at the front of the hall. He was handsome, five years her senior at seventeen, and just coming into his manhood, dark copper hair, chiseled features and eyes as blue as the sky. He was every maid's dream. For the rest of the visit she had watched him, in the training yard and around Winterfell when he would be in the company of his bastard brother and the Greyjoy ward. The Greyjoy made her uneasy, but the bastard boy, Jon, seemed kind enough. She had overheard that he was going to sail to Essos after the royal party left. She had stopped listening after that as the Greyjoy boy started making the most inappropriate comments. Then Lord Stark's other son, Bran, fell. Robb wasn't around after that, helping his lord father and lady mother. Yet as they were preparing for the long journey back to King's Landing, she approached the young lord and wished him well and that his brother had a swift recovery before giving him a watercolor painting she had done during one of the afternoons when her mother didn't allow her or Tommen out.

"It's not my best work my lord. But I hope it brings your brother comfort when he awakens." The painting was of the sun setting in the Wolfswood. Myrcella wished she had brought her oil paints but alas she had to settle with the traveling kit of watercolors Uncle Jamie had gifted her. Robb had smiled, it didn't reach his eyes fully but was still there.

"Thank you for your kind gift princess. I will hang it on the wall of Bran's room." Myrcella blushed, curtsied and rushed to the wheelhouse.

It was two years before she and Robb Stark would cross paths again.

Contrary to popular belief, and her mother's wishes, Myrcella was well aware of what was happening in the realm. After all she was a Princess of Houses Baratheon and Lannister. Baratheon in name, Lannister in blood. Even if she tried hard not to be as cruel as her lady mother. One couldn't survive in Kings Landing without some hardening of the soul. She was a woman now, flowered and grown. The realm was at war with the North, Joffrey, her evil bother executed Ned Stark for treason and held Sansa Stark hostage. Her own uncles, Stannis and Renly Baratheon were also trying to win the Iron Throne. Myrcella knew Stannis had a better claim, she knew what she and her siblings really were, bastards born of incest between their mother and her twin. Jamie was her favorite uncle; he was almost like a father to her growing up. Granted he was her father by blood. But still she still saw Robert as her father too. Out of her and her brothers, Robert had shown her the most attention. He always remembered her name day, and gave her the beautiful gifts he'd had made for her in-person. She had shared many close and private moments with the former king, father-daughter moments that she would always treasure. He may not have been her real father but he had shown her love and attention all the same, Sometimes more than her own mother did, Jamie had also been attentive. He had sat with her when she'd been ill, comforted her when she needed comfort and love. It seemed like the only time Robert and Jamie every agreed on anything was where she was concerned. It was warming and heartbreaking at the same time. It was now that she wished to have either her real father or adopted father or both to protect her.

Her Uncle Tyrion had arranged a marriage between her and the youngest son of Prince Doran Martell in Dorne. Uncle Tyrion had done it to weed out her mother's mole on the Small Council, Grand Maester Pycelle. She knew that one day she would have to marry for political gain, and she was prepared to do her duty, but in times of war things never seem to go as planned.

Her ship to Dorne was captured after leaving the port of Braavos. It had been Tyrion's clever plan to send her first to Braavos then have the ship change its colors before sailing south to Dorne. Her uncle was not as clever as he thought. A Manderley ship had come upon them at night and caught them by surprise. They had taken her, killed everyone on her ship, then set it alight.

Now two moons later, she was being led through the Stark camp in nothing but a thin shift and barefoot with her hands tied. It was meant to degrade her, but she kept her head high. She kept her head high as she was led into Riverrun and presented to the King in the North. Robb Stark had been a boy last time she had seen him. Now he was a man. His hair was a bit longer, he had grown a beard that just dusted his jaw which was set firmly. His light blue eyes were cold as ice, none of the warmth remaining from the boy who had kissed her hand during the feast so long ago. He had filled out as well. Even under the armor and fur cloak Myrcella could tell he had the lean yet muscular body of a warrior. At his feet rested his legendary direwolf Grey Wind. The beast was massive now, just as fierce as his master.

Myrcella stood her ground, in her thin shift, her legs covered with dirt and mud, bleeding profusely from the rocks she had cut her sensitive feet on. Her golden hair lay tangled in her face. She straitened her back and fought to not shiver or let her teeth be heard chattering. The king rose from his chair.

"We found her on a ship outside of Braavos set for Sunspear your Grace. Figured the golden cub would make a fine gift for the Young Wolf. Don't worry, she's still a maid. Made sure none of my men took a slice of that sweet pie." Myrcella bristled glaring at the sailor as he tossed her neckless, a golden pendent with a lioness engraved on it to the king.

They had not defiled her, yet they had stripped her, locked her in a cold damp brig, and only gave her stale moldy bread and the occasional cup of water for weeks on end.

The King in the North now stood less than a foot away. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. She would not look away, remembering her false father's house words. Ours is the Fury, right now she had fury. It was all that she had honestly. She didn't think it was possible, but Robb Stark's eyes turned even colder, something dangerous flashed in their blue depths, something wild. Behind him the direwolf growled, the rest of the court shifted uneasily. He began to remove his cloak, speaking in a low voice laced with, was that, anger?

"You may not have raped her." He threw the great fur cloak around her shoulders in one smooth move. Finally shielding her from view. "Yet you have still abused a prisoner, a noble woman. You are no better than her family's soldiers who rape and pillage the Riverlands."

The sailors looked around, now fearful. His was a cold and dangerous fury.

"Take these men to the gallows and make an example of them." The sailors cried and pleaded for mercy as Stark and Tully guards dragged them from the hall. Robb turned to a servant standing at the edge of the room.

"Take the Princess Myrcella to a clean chamber and have a bath drawn. Someone fetch, the healer, Talisa to take a look at her. He turned back to Myrcella. "I will have a hot meal brought to your chambers and when you are well you and I will speak about what position you are in."

He then pulled his dagger from his belt and cut through the ropes binding her wrists and pressed her necklace into her hand. Once free Myrcella wrapped the cloak closer around her. It was still warm from the King wearing it and smelled of pine and leather.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She replied quietly.

Later that night wrapped in furs in her new chambers, her hair still damp, from the hot bath and her stomach full for the first time in weeks. Myrcella realized that her hear continued to race, it wasn't fear or anger. No, it felt like she was back in Winterfell those years ago when Robb had taken her painting. No, she could under no circumstance fall for her family's enemy. No way, no how.

She fell for her family's enemy and she fell hard. Even though she was a prisoner, she was treated like a guest. She was given good comfortable wool dresses to wear that kept her warm in the cooling weather, and she could go anywhere in Riverrun as long as a guard went with her. She mended clothes and went to the Sept with Lady Stark. She could tell Robb's mother didn't like her much but still, it was nice.

Robb had even allowed her to visit her Uncle Jamie under his supervision. He wasn't allowed the freedoms she was, kept in a cage in camp after murdering one of his own cousins and several Stark bannermen in an escape attempt. She had cried when she had seen her father by blood. Making him promise not to make any more trouble, then had hugged him ignoring the filth and whispered

"I love you father." Before allowing the King in the North to lead her back to the castle. Ignoring the shocked look on Jamie's face. She had never called him father before, never given away that she knew the truth.

A week after that a set of paints appeared in her quarters along with a simple note. I remember you enjoyed painting, perhaps you could paint something for me this time? she blushed after reading the note, Robb remembered that she painted. It was a well-known fact that Robb was infatuated with a camp healer, the one that had seen to her when she had arrived, Talisa Maegyr of Volantis. He was just trying to make her feel comfortable, he couldn't have liked her or anything, after all she was his hostage, the daughter and sister of his sworn enemies.

But she had missed drawing and painting so much. So, she painted a field of flowers, then, a Weirwood, then whatever came to her mind, yet nothing felt worthy for a king.

Her father had been released by Lady Stark, apparently with the promise that he and the Lady Brianne, a warrior woman from Tarth, would return Arya and Sansa Stark to their family. Myrcella told Robb himself that Arya was no longer in the custody of her family. She had disappeared after Lord Stark's capture and had thought that Robb and Lady Catelyn already knew. Robb was furious, but it wasn't her it was Lady Catelyn who he directed his anger towards. She was to remain in her chambers or tending to the dying Lord Hoster until Robb decided otherwise.

Shortly after this, Myrcella was walking through Riverrun's courtyard when she saw Robb training with some of his men. Off to the side Grey Wind sat watching the men with an intelligent interest a person wouldn't assume an animal was capable of. Robb's sword rested against the wall next to the giant wolf. Myrcella quickly opened her sketch book and drew the scene. Later that evening she slipped the finished watercolor under the King in the North's door, ignoring the curious look of the guards and the… interesting sounds coming from the room. As she walked back to her quarters Myrcella felt a heaviness in her heart, she was happy that the King had found someone to love in a time of war. It's just, part of her wished that it was her instead of the healer from Volantis.

Myrcella buried her feelings, she had seen what jealousy did to people. Seven Hells, her mother had been jealous of a dead woman and all it brought her was grief and spitefulness. Myrcella would not be like Cersei, she wouldn't. Several weeks had passed since she painted the picture of Grey Wind. The day after Robb had approached her and thanked her for the drawing. She had blushed and said it was nothing. Still that light bubbly feeling filled her, along with a flash of heat to her lower parts. That had been unexpected, but so was Robb's smile.

Today she was sitting in the little Godswood, it was unusually warm for fall, the citadel had released the White Raven signifying the end of summer a year and a half ago. But the day was so lovely she couldn't help but take off her boots and stockings and bury her toes in the dirt and grass of the garden. The Godswood wasn't a real Godswood, the heart tree was an ancient oak instead of a Weirwood. The only Weirwoods in the south grew at the Gods Eye on the Isle of Faces. Myrcella knew it wasn't as sacred as the Isle or a Godswood in the North, but there was peace here.

Someone cleared their throat causing her to jump. A chuckle followed.

"Forgive me Princess, I didn't mean to startle you." Robb Stark said with a crooked grin. Myrcella blushed and tucked her skirts around her knees.

"I beg your forgiveness your Grace, I can go." She noticed that he was alone, no advisors, no guards, no Talisa. Her guard had been reassigned after the debacle with her uncle when it became clear Myrcella would not try to escape. That, and apparently, she was less valuable to her family than she thought as no responses had come to her ransom that stung. Myrcella tried hard not to dwell on it.

"There's no need. I wouldn't mind you staying, honestly I just came here to take a break from the politics." He said taking a seat a respectful distance from Myrcella. Myrcella nodded, being king was no easy task. Yet somehow Robb Stark made it look easy, but it didn't fool her she saw the mask crack on occasion revealing the man underneath who is simply trying to protect his family. She decided to change the subject.

"Where is Grey Wind?"

"Hunting. He comes and goes as he pleases. Contrary to what many say he will never be a pet; he is a wild animal and simply my companion. I cannot force him to do anything." Myrcella nodded.

"I know, I can see it in him. Especially when you look into his eyes." Robb chucked again and laid back fully crossing his arms under his head staring at the sky.

"Many people don't willingly look a direwolf in the eye."

"You do."

"We." He paused, "Have a connection." She didn't know exactly what that connection was only that it was prolific, honestly, she was surprised more people didn't sense it.

"Why do you never draw people?" Robb asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"I am horrible at people. I never seem to be able to depict… that one thing that make them, them. All my portraits of people lack soul." Myrcella trailed off. The two sat in silence.

After a while Myrcella looked up from her sketches and over at Robb, he was still staring at the sky lost in thought.

"The rumor about my uncle and mother is true. My siblings and I are born from their incest." Why in the bloody seven hells did she just tell him that? He would think her an abomination, a freak. No better than the Targaryen's and their madness. Robb was silent for a moment.

"I know." Was his reply. He was quite again, but then he spoke. "My brother Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne." Myrcella froze. Wide eyed she looked over at the king next to her.

"Jon told me before he left to visit the Wall before he went to Essos. He's not really my father's bastard, apparently my Aunt Lyanna willingly went with Prince Rhaegar and they married in a secret ceremony. After Rhaegar died, my father tracked my aunt to Dorne where she was bleeding out on her birthing bed. She made him swear to protect her newly born son from the wrath of King Robert." Robb paused again, "My mother used to hate him until Jon got sick with the pox and almost died when we young. Then my father told her the truth. They told Jon the truth when he said he wanted to join the Nights Watch when we were both thirteen. They didn't tell me, Jon did because he didn't want to keep it a secret. I didn't believe him at first, but then I went to my mother and father and they said it was true. They said I should never tell another soul. The Maester at the wall is a Targaryen, Jon wanted to meet him before going to Essos to try and find his aunt and uncle."

Myrcella gaped at him. Well the Targaryen incest no longer mattered.

"What!" He finally looked over at her seriously. "I thought we were sharing our strangest family secrets."

The two stared at each other. Then Myrcella burst out laughing and Robb followed. That's when Myrcella knew for sure, she was in love with the enemy, Seven save her.