Robb's ability to now turn whenever he wished was a welcome if, sometimes shocking, change to the camp. Robb was relieved he was no longer enslaved to the cycle of the moon. Life continued much as it had until one day, just past the two-year mark of their stay in the cave, Cass, Griffin's lover, came up to the cave. Cass was a stern woman who had spent her entire life carving out a home for herself in the valley. She wasn't a woman who laid her emotions out on her sleeves for others to see. Yet today, there was a light in her usually guarded gaze.
"I have news." She started briskly. "A trader passed through town this morning, and he brought news." She looked over at Robb, uncertain about something.
"What news?" Dacey asked.
"The Targaryens have returned to Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen has reclaimed Dragonstone with an army of Unsullied and Dothraki raiders over 100,000 strong." She paused. "And if the rumor is true, three dragons as well. Just like the Targaryens of old. She rides the biggest of the three; they say the dragon is Balarion, the Black Dread reborn. They also say she has married, and her husband rides another of her dragons." Myrcella glanced over at Robb. His face was carefully blank.
"I thought only those with Valyrian blood could ride dragons," Petey said.
"There are many people in Essos who are decedents of the old Valyrians Petey," Dacey replied. "The Dragon Queen probably found one of them."
"But the Targareyens were the last dragon riders. Her husband must be one as well. I bet he's a Blackfyre."
"It's not a Blackfyre." Robb finally spoke up. "It will be Jon."
"Jon Snow?" Dacey frowned, "How could your father's bastard ride a dragon unless… Oh, Seven Hells!" Next to her, Greatjon was scribbling furiously on his writing tablet.
"Jon isn't my father's son. He's the son of my aunt Lyanna and her husband, Prince Rhaegar." Greatjon held up the tablet.
She wasn't kidnapped, was she? Robb shook his head. "She and Rhaegar ran away together with Elia's blessing.
"I remember when the news broke that Rhaegar had supposedly kidnapped Lady Lyanna. No one truly believed that the Silver Prince would have done such a thing. He was a good man. Yet the banners were called, and well, history is written by the winners, and if the winner is the spurned betrothed, well, the truth of it is lost." Griffin spoke softly, lost in the memories of Robert's Rebellion.
"From what I saw of Robert Baratheon, I'm not surprised Lyanna chose Rhaegar. My mother told me so many stories about the She-Wolf. Lyanna would never let herself be made small by the likes of Robert. No offense Myrcella." Myrcella shrugged.
"None taken. Robert liked to pretend I was what his daughter with Lyanna would have been like. Hells, I'm not even his daughter by blood." Robb stepped away from the group, walking to the tree line, lost in his thoughts. Myrcella went after him.
Myrcella knew with the return of the Targaryens to Westeros, war would once again be on the horizon, and it would not just be for the Iron Throne.
"If Jon is the husband of Daenerys, then they could be allies to us." She said quietly. "Robb, you could take back the North, avenge your family and the victims of the Red Wedding."
"The world thinks I'm dead, Ella. It may be for the best if it stays that way. I lost the North. The lords would support me again. Especially when they find out that I've spent the past years hiding in the Vale as a coward." Robb hissed.
"You are no coward Robb Stark, and if any Lord calls you such well, they'll have to deal with me! And besides, think of our time here as a strategic withdrawal. You were wounded and needed to recover as well, as you know, getting cursed by a mad witch and having to learn to control the said curse." Robb chuckled and pulled Myrcella close.
"Aye, I suppose you may be right." Myrcella playfully shoved him.
"Of course, I'm right. Besides, if you think you're going to Dragonstone alone, think again. I'm coming with you, and the others will too."
"You seem to have a lot of faith in them."
"It's because they have faith in you, Robb."
The decision was made. The time had come to leave their hidden corner of the Vale and join in the Great Game once again.
Myrcella was just finishing packing up her bed role when Robb paused in shoving his scant possessions into his own pack. He turned to her,
"We should marry." Myrcella froze. Marriage, she would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it, late at night, wrapped safely in Robb's arms.
"When I was a little girl, I dreamed about my wedding," Myrcella murmured, leaning against the side of the cave. "I think every little girl does. I dreamed of a magnificent ceremony in the Sept of Baelor, my one true love cloaking me and declaring his undying love for me. My mother was quick to crush those dreams. I would be a political bride, yes, I would marry in the Great Sept, but I would despise my husband, she told me that after I would be shipped to some corner of Westeros with a lord chosen on the whim of Robert Baratheon or as it happened, Joffrey." Her voice caught, remembering the blunt, cruel conversation with her mother. "I love you, Robb. I love you with all my heart. I don't want a Sept or a bride cloak; I just want you. So yes, we should definitely get married." Tears of joy glistened in her eyes as Robb pulled her to her feet and kissed her tenderly. Myrcella stepped back, wiping her eyes, her mind already making plans.
"We could stop at the first Sept or Godswood we come across." Robb silenced her with another kiss.
"Come with me." Then he was pulling her out of the cave chamber; Robb stopped and grabbed a torch, then proceeded to pull her deeper into the caves, deeper and deeper they went. Myrcella quickly realized where they were going; the chamber with the paintings and carvings. They entered, the light of the torch making the paintings on the wall dance.
"It's not a Godswood, but the Old Gods are here. Can you feel it?" Myrcella nodded. She could feel the power that was here deep in the stones, prickling at the back of her neck as though someone was watching, unseen from the shadowy depths of the cave. Robb held the torch aloft, looking around the chamber.
"In the North, weddings are much simpler, not as much pomp and circumstance as weddings in the south." Robb smiled at her ruefully, the torch making his golden eyes glow. "And after the last southron wedding I attended, I can say I'm not excited to take part in another."
"No, I don't think I would be able to enjoy a southern wedding again either." Myrcella took a step closer to Robb, "And since I am marrying my Northern Wolf, we should have a Northern wedding." Robb leaned down to kiss her, only for Myrcella to sidestep out of the way. Crossing her arms behind her back, she casually began walking around the chamber, admiring the carvings and paintings. Robb remained still in the center of the room, but Myrcella could feel the heat of his eyes on her. "So, what does a Northern wedding entail?" Robb smirked.
"Well, the officiant, usually the Lord or head of the family of the groom, asks who comes before the gods. Then whoever is giving the bride away gives the bride's name, saying she is flowered and grown, trueborn or noble, then they ask who claims her. The groom will give his name and ask who gives the bride, then the officiant asks the bride if she claims the groom as her husband, the bride replies with 'I claim this man' and the bride and groom then kneel and ask the blessing of the gods." Robb paused, cocking his head at Myrcella. "So, who comes before the Old Gods tonight?" Myrcella grinned stopped walking.
"Myrcella of House Lannister and technically Baratheon, a woman grown, not really trueborn, but noble. Who claims her?" She took a step towards Robb.
"Robb of House Stark, who gives her?" He mirrored Myrcella taking a step forward.
"I give myself." Another step.
"Do you claim this man, who sometimes turns into a wolf?" Another step.
"I claim this man." Myrcella took one last step. They were now a hairsbreadth away from each other.
"Then I now pronounce us man and wife. Shall we kneel and ask the blessing of the gods?"
"Oh Robb, they've already blessed us." Robb dropped his torch, the flame sputtering, and wrapped his arms around Myrcella, lifting her and wrapping her lithe legs around his waist. Then Myrcella grabbed his head between her hands and pulled him in for a searing kiss.
"My wife," Robb whispered, kissing her earlobe and nipping the side of her neck.
"My Wolf." Myrcella gasped. As the torch went out, the two coupled as man and wife, as the wolf and his mate, with only the Old Gods the witness to their union.
Early the next morning, the group set out. Leaving behind the home, they had built in the last several years. Stopping only for Griffin to say his farewells to Cass, promising he would return to her one day. Her reply was a tearful "You'd better." Then, they were off to Gulltown to find a ship that would take them to Dragonstone and the Targaryen Queen.
I'm alive, please enjoy.