2: Melantha
"Mel is going to be a princess!" Benjen sang as he and Lyanna ran around their elder sister, teasing her and giggling.
Their joyful mood, however, was not shared by the two eldest of the Stark children.
Brandon and Melantha exchanged an uneasy glance.
Melantha tried to approach her brother and sit by him atop of her bed, but Lyanna and Benjen kept running around her in circles, while Maekar only watched from his place by the fire, uncharacteristically uninterested.
"Oh, you are going to be the prettiest princess ever!" Lyanna exclaimed in an exaggerated manner playing around with a soft pink ribbon. "Maybe, since you're marrying off so well, I won't have to marry at all."
"Nice to know our sister's misfortune brings you joy, Ly." Brandon said dryly.
Upon hearing this, Lyanna stopped dead in her tracks and her smile fell. Her face scrunched up in worry and she clenched the ribbon in nervous hands as she looked up at her sister with regret.
"I'm sorry, Mel; I didn't think-"
"I know. Don't worry." Melantha smiled as reassuringly as she could at the moment.
While Melantha tended to think too much before speaking, Lyanna thought too little.
With delicacy, Melantha took the ribbon from her sister's hand and wrapped it around her wrist as she finally took a seat next to Brandon.
"What did father say?" he asked for the tenth time since he had heard the news.
"We will travel south in a fortnight; and once we arrive in Kings Landing, it will be one full moon before the wedding takes place."
"That's too short for a proper betrothal."
Melantha shrugged. Maybe it was. Usually, when two great houses united, they would plan out everything carefully, unless of course, they were in dire need of the alliance during wartime, or the groom had already dishonored the bride. But there was peace in Westeros, and she had never seen Rhaegar Targaryen in person, so there was no logical way in which he could've sullied her good name.
Brandon himself was soon to be betrothed to Lady Catelyn of House Tully. The negotiations were just starting, and even when they were done, it would be at least a year before he had to travel south to the Riverlands to collect his bride.
"Has House Targaryen ever married outside of their own house before?" Lyanna asked, sitting down on the floor next to Maekar and petting him.
"A few times;" Melantha nodded, wincing slightly. "but not to just any house."
Lyanna seemed offended by that.
"We are just just any house, we're-"
"What I mean to say is that they prefer to wed those who have traces of Valyrian blood in them." Melantha said, playing around with the ribbon on her wrist. "We only have ice in ours."
"At least our family tree is a real tree, not just a circle." Brandon said.
Melantha laughed out loud at that, covering her mouth with one hand, as if that would make the sound go unnoticed. Surely it was most improper to make fun of her future family, but her brother had a point.
"Will we all go with you?" Lyanna asked, looking hopeful.
"You will, I believe." The eldest answered, much to the youngest's satisfaction. She turned to her brothers then. "Father said Brandon must stay to guard the north and get some practice for the future, and Benjen is too young to travel so far."
"That's not fair!" They both yelled at the same time.
"But I believe Ned will be there." Melantha smiled. "I imagine Lord Arryn will be invited, so he should bring Ned and his other ward along."
That was one of the few good things to come out of the betrothal so far. It had been a few years since Melantha saw her favorite brother, and despite their constant correspondence, it was not the same as having him whiting walking distance.
Ned had been two years younger than Benjen when he left for the Vale, so Melantha didn't see much logic in not allowing her youngest brother to travel south other than how annoying he could get when he needed to be still for an extended period of time.
"Mel,…"Benjen said, scratching his face with his finger, looking deep in thought. He was only two and ten name days old, and despite his unruly nature he was the sweetest of all her siblings. Then, he asked something Melantha had purposefully tried not to think about. "If you wed Prince Rhaegar: will you become Queen one day?"
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the soft sounds coming from the fire. Three pairs of grey eyes settled on her slowly, realization dawning in.
The dread she felt in the morning as she headed towards the library came rushing back, fast and unrelenting like a wave. Suddenly, with her hair falling down freely, her dress covered in mud, her old boots and the silly old ribbon on her wrist, she felt quite silly, small and unprepared for the world.
Yes, she supposed she'd be queen one day.
If she survived long enough.
Feasts were never her favorite sort of gathering, even from a small age.
There were too many things to look at, too many smells and too much noise. It gave her a headache.
Still, she walked into the main hall of Winterfell with a soft smile upon her face and her hands clasped in front of her, hoping that was enough to hide the stains of ink she had been unable to wash off her hands.
The northern Lords and Ladies cheered for her as she passed and she chuckled fondly. Loud as they may be, Melantha knew they meant well, and her understanding nature was one of the reasons why they seemed to like her so much.
There were already some couples dancing merrily in the center of the room, and she spotted Benjen talking to a Karstark boy and a Mormont girl near a wall. They were staring at something in the girl's hand.
She made her way towards her family's table, where her father sat quietly, a long banner with a grey direwolf on a field hanging proudly behind him.
She placed a soft kiss to his cheek and sat to his right. Since her mother had passed years prior while birthing Benjen, the duties of Lady of Winterfell had fallen upon her shoulders. Her father had been kind enough to try to lessen the load during the first few years, but then he gradually left her to tend to everything on her own.
With nervousness, she wondered how in the Seven hells she was meant to run the Red Keep.
Father and daughter dined quietly, as usual. Melantha didn't mind, since it allowed her to take in the scene one last time. The next time she turned one year older, she'd be celebrating in the south all alone.
She always liked to say that the people of the north made up for the cold they so often endured. They were extremely loud and blunt; they didn't like to go on about unnecessary pleasantries, which may come off as rude to those foreign to the land, but Melantha knew them to be kind in their own way, and they were as loyal as they came.
One small comfort for her; should something happen while in King's Landing, she had no doubt they would all march for her.
She ate quietly, trying to decide how many dance proposals she should accept before it was deemed appropriate to slip away or if she perhaps should make an effort and stay longer than usual.
Her father rose from his seat and slowly, all the attendants grew quiet.
"Thank you all for coming all this way to celebrate my daughter. I am sure it must not have been easy with our current weather."
"I lost my balls near Torrhen Square thanks to you, My Lord!"
"You never had them!" Lord Umber was quick to answer, earning a laugh from everyone.
Melantha chuckled quietly, trying not to think too much of what her father would say next.
"I had no part in that, Lord Tallhart, so expect no indulgence." Lord Rickard said, earning a few more laughs. "Now, I didn't stop your entertainment for nothing. I happen to have an announcement to make." he looked down at Melantha, and she stood on shaky legs, hiding her hands behind her back as discreetly as possible. Her eyes found Brandon's, who had managed to turn away from the young woman he was flirting with to stare. He gave her an encouraging smile. "Word has finally reached Winterfell today, and it would seem that my eldest daughter will soon be a princess, for she is officially betrothed to Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen."
The cheers didn't make themselves wait. The guests and servants alike clapped and cheered, banging their cups against the tables and singing praises to House Stark.
The Lords of Winterfell may not be fond of southerners, but no one could deny how beneficial it'd be to have one of their own marrying into the royal family, especially with the winter they were enduring at the moment.
So far it was not particularly long, but it was costing them greatly, especially to the smallfolk, who lacked the advantage of living in a warm castle.
Her father and Maester Luwin had been trying to find a way to alleviate the weight of the people without compromising their own finances, but there was only so much they could do.
Melantha watched as Lyanna's face twisted and turned red as she spoke to the new wife of Lord Bolton, and Benjen, seated next to Howland Reed, tried to keep himself awake.
Lord Rickard raised his hand, and the hall grew quiet once more.
"This is a rare occasion. Royal weddings between two different houses can be rare, and we all know what the south can be like. I also know of your duties to your own lands and people, so I will not force you into anything; but I do invite all who wishes to join us in our travel, to support my daughter as she steps into a new phase of her life,…and to show all those green, southern lords that the north is a force to be reckoned with!"
The cheers were louder this time, and her father's words made Melantha uncomfortable. She had heard of the King's paranoia, and also of the multiple spies he had spread across the realm. Her father's words could easily be interpreted in the wrong way.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what compelled him to phrase things in such a manner.
"My Lady, would you care for a dance?" the new Lord Bolton bowed to her.
Melantha smiled and took his hand, trying not to worry too much.
A few days after the feast, she found her siblings on the Godswood. They were sparring.
"Aren't you supposed to be with the seamstress?" Lyanna asked, dodging an attack from Benjen.
"She already has my measurements. And it's not like I will wear the dresses she makes for long once we get to King's Landing."
The seamstress had been tasked with making a few dresses for Melantha's first days at court. Her wedding gown and the rest of her wardrobe would be handled by the royal seamstress and overlooked by the Queen, since Melantha had no mother of her own to help with the task.
"But don't you have to try them on to see if they actually fit?"
Melantha sighed and sat down by the Weirwood tree, opening her book.
"I'm sure she did a fine job, as usual."
The truth was that she'd rather ignore any and all task that reminded her that she'd be leaving her home soon.
She leaned back against the tree and focused on the book. It had been a gift from House Manderly; stories about well-known pirates.
Brandon gave Benjen some instruction and sat down next to her.
"I don't like this."
"You've made it very clear already, Bran."
"The Targaryens are perverted sister-fuckers and-"
"They are our rulers; I'd be careful of how you speak."
"Don't they have to marry like that to keep the line going?" Benjen asked.
"Would you fuck your own sister to keep the Stark name going?" Brandon asked.
Benjen looked from Lyanna to Melantha and his face turned green.
"No;" he said. "Besides, they're ugly."
He was compensated by a snowball on the face.
"Mel!" he complained, only to panic as he saw Lyanna throwing away her wooden sword and running towards him.
They began chasing each other around the pond, with Benjen asking for help.
Brandon turned to Melantha once more.
"Even father is not too happy with this." He looked down at his hands before looking back up at her. "I knew he wanted a good match for Lyanna, something to strengthen our bond with the south, but you were supposed to stay here, with us."
Melantha watched as Lyanna jumped on Benjen's back and threw him to the ground, burying his head in the snow and keeping it there.
"I don't think he would've let me stay here much longer, Bran." She looked down at her book without really trying to make out the words. "He does want southern alliances, so why would he let one of his two daughters go to waste?"
"Don't speak of yourself like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're some fat pig that can be feasted upon."
"But that's what I am." she pointed out, her bitterness slipping through.
A cage was still a cage, no matter what it was made of, and what niceties she may find inside to entertain herself with.
Brandon put his arm around her shoulders and bought her close to him. Melantha rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.
"Starks don't belong in the south." He said.
A/N: Hiii! Thank you so much for reading, and leaving kudos, following, voting or whatever it is on the site/app you're reading the story on. I may take a little longer with the next 2 or 3 chapters since I have some exams to prepare for university, but I'll do my best to find the time.
Have a lovely day, everyone! We're closer to meeting Rhaegar and I CANNOT wait.