3: Melantha
She was never a religious person. She respected those who worshiped the Old Gods, but didn't find it in her heart to believe in them enough to care. Despite that, just before she was to leave Winterfell, she paid the Wire wood tree one last visit.
She knelt before the white tree, uncaring of the snow on the ground, and looked up at its bleeding face.
She stayed there, unmoving, barely breathing, taking in the sight.
She wasn't there to pray, nor to ask for the Gods blessings or protection on the journey ahead. She was there just to say goodbye to a place that had seen her accomplish so much through the years.
It was the place where she took her first steps, where she learnt how to swim and where she learnt how to wield a sword. It was also one of her favorite places to read and ponder, and she would greatly miss its tranquility.
She stared at the tree for what felt like the briefest of moments and eternity at the same time, and the longer she stared the more compelled she felt to lean against it and close her eyes.
No one was yet there to collect her, so she sat down and leaned her left side against the tree. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to the bark.
She saw snow being poured into a wine cup.
A hammer being swung in the air.
Streets of a foreign place flooded with blood.
A fair headed woman charging into battle.
Ice blue eyes.
The sea below her, getting closer and closer and the wind hitting against her violently, and ice blue eyes waiting just beneath the surface.
Melantha sat up straight, looking everywhere with great speed. Her heart was pounding, her breathing was labored, fear threatening to take over her.
"My Lady, what is it?"
She looked up to watch Maester Luwin watching her, dark eyes filled with worry.
Forcing herself into believing she was safe, she took in her surroundings with strained calmness.
"It's nothing. I think I had a nightmare, that's all."
"You think?"
"I did."
The man nodded quietly, and Melantha could tell he was trying to decide weather to believe her or not.
"What's that?" She was quick to ask, wanting to distract him.
Maester Luwin was holding a velvet bag, and by its shape, she guessed it contained a book.
"Your most recent discovery, My Lady." He answered, offering her a hand to help her up. "I noticed you've been trying to translate a book."
"Yes. It's in High Valyrian, and I'm afraid I've been rather unsuccessful."
"I also happened to hear a rumor that the Targaryens still speak the language, even though they've not been in Valyria for…some time now." He offered her the bag, and when she took it she peeked inside, seeing some scrolls as well. Probably what she had managed to translate. "My knowledge of marriage is quite limited, I'm afraid, but I imagine that traveling across the kingdom to wed a stranger can be challenging, so I thought perhaps, you and the Prince can find some common ground." He pointed at the book. "I hear he's a bit of a scholar, just like you."
Melantha pressed the bag against her chest, staring at the Maester. She hadn't known him for long, but she had grown attached. He was kind, and willing to listen to others' opinions despite his vast knowledge, and unlike the previous Maester, he had no issue in passing down his wisdom to her.
She wished she could take him with her, and have at least one friend in the south.
"I will miss you." Melantha said softly.
Maester Luwin smiled fondly.
"As shall I, My Lady. But bigger things call for you." He motioned for her to follow him out of the Godswood, and she did so while trying not to stare back. "I'm sure you will accomplish something great, and if the Gods are good, I will have the honor of putting it down on a big tome for history to remember you by."
Saying goodbye to Benjen was difficult, but it was even worse when she came face to face with Brandon.
"Do me a favor and keep my chambers empty. Who knows if I'll ever need them again."
"You will always have a place in Winterfell, sister." He smiled as best as he could, bringing her into a hug.
They clung to each other for a longer period of time than what was considered appropriate for people of their age, but neither cared.
Brandon, Ned and Melantha had always been quite close, having been born one right after the other, within the space of a year. It had only been them during the first seven years of her life, and although they loved Lyanna and Benjen, they weren't as close to them.
The youngest Stark children had a bond of their own, and the eldest understood that.
"Make sure our brother hasn't turned into a green, proper southern lord."
"I doubt that." She laughed quietly. "The North is hard to shake off."
"We're already delayed." Her Lord father said as he walked past them, adjusting his gloves.
Lyanna was already seated atop of a horse, and she seemed restless. She seemed far more eager to depart than Melantha, probably because it was the first time she'd be allowed to ride a horse instead of a pony outside of Winterfell.
There was also a horse for Melantha as well. She'd make most of the trip by carriage, where Maekar had already made himself comfortable with a nice bone courtesy of the cook, but first she'd ride through Winter Town, wanting to take one last look at her people.
It could be an encouragement for her, to remember she was not only doing her duty to her house, but to the people of the north as well.
Brandon kissed her forehead.
"I hope you find happiness in the capital, sister."
"I wish the same for you. And to gaze upon your ugly face again soon."
"Oi!"
They had been back on the road for a little over a fortnight already, and both Melantha and Lyanna were ready fling themselves from the carriage.
The sisters were barely speaking to one another, the consequences of spending so much time locked up together in such a small space being that of ever growing resentment. Melantha was sure that, were Lyanna to breathe just a little harder, she would grab the first sharp object she stumbled upon and slit her throat open.
Catelyn Tully stared between the sisters with cautious eyes, putting her needlework down and clearing her throat.
"Maybe we could play a game." She suggested.
"What sort of game?" Melantha sighed, giving Lysa Tully a pointed look.
They had taken a detour west, down the River Road and remained at Riverrun so that her Lord father could talk to Lord Hoster personally about the betrothal between Lady Catelyn and Brandon.
"Why don't we also make a tour through the Western Lands and the Reach since we're at it." Lyanna had complained as she scrunched up her nose at the sight of the Tully's impressive seat. Melantha had shushed her with an elbow to her ribs.
They stayed at Riverrun for two days, and Melantha wasted no time in writing a small letter to Brandon, who had asked her to let him know if his future bride was at least nice to look at.
"She has lice, you can see the vile little creatures all across her head; both of her upper front teeth are missing, and can barely read out loud properly.
…but she's rich."
In reality, Lady Catelyn was quite pretty, and very kind and sound, unlike her sister, who had managed to scare away all the other ladies who were accompanying them south.
Melantha also didn't appreciate the way Lysa stared at Maekar in disgust, and how she whispered to her sister to complain about "the infested mutt". Lady Catelyn kept trying to shush her, shooting Melantha apologetic looks. The eldest of the Starks chose to play deaf for the moment, but she was watching closely.
Besides, Lyanna was already showing enough offense for the both of them.
Melantha was starting to think they might make it all the way to Kings Landing without bloodshed. They were only about a day or two away, and without snow in the way, they pace had accelerated significantly.
She was desperate to sleep on a proper bed and take a bath. While the Tully sisters seemed perfectly content in their wool dresses, Lyanna and Melantha were boiling alive in theirs. This temperature was not agreeing with them.
The carriage passed over some rocks, shaking everyone inside.
Maekar fell off the seat and landed across Lady Lysa's feet. The girl gasped and moved back.
"This creature is vile." She said, shooting her foot forward.
"At least he knows when to shut up." Lyanna said.
Lysa opened her mouth just as Catelyn did, the first probably to say something worse, the latter trying to mitigate the situation.
Melantha beat them to it, hands balling into a fist.
"Did you just try to kick him?" She asked calmly, in a soft, monotone tone, eyes set on Lady Lysa.
Lyanna took one look at her sister and shrank back into her seat. Suddenly, Melantha couldn't hear her breathing anymore.
"I-what?" Lady Lysa asked.
Lady Catelyn stared, frozen in place.
"I asked you a question: did you try to kick my dog?"
Some bell must have rung on Lady Lysa's head, because her face began to grow red and she dropped her gaze.
"Well, he tried to attack me-"
"He fell, and didn't even pay you any attention."
"We-well, what does it matter anyway? That thing is not an appropriate pet for a lady, let alone the future princess."
There was a beat of silence.
"And I keep telling Lady Catelyn that trouches don't become friends with worms, yet she insists on keeping you around."
Lady Catelyn's eyes widened as Lady Lysa's mouth dropped to her lap. Melantha kept eye contact as she hit the roof of the carriage and waited for it to come to a stop.
Without wasting a moment, she grabbed her dog and walked outside, followed by a snickering Lyanna.
"Why must you always be so rude, Lysa?!"
"Me?! She's a savage northern-"
Melantha walked away quickly, embarrassment and anger beginning to battle inside her head.
"My horse!"
"You should be like that more often, sister."
She turned to Lyanna, who was also climbing atop of her own horse. Neither had survived past Mont Cailin on their saddles, although for different reasons.
Adjusting her grip on Maekar, she used her free hand to climb atop the horse and adjusted herself. Maekars tail kept hitting her repeatedly, and she almost smiled at him.
"It was rather unseemly of me." She said, nudging the animal forward. "Please don't tell father. I will apologize to Lady Lysa later."
"Fuck, no!" Lyanna all but screamed.
"Language."
Lyanna rolled her eyes.
"She is insufferable and stupid. I'm sure even Lady Catelyn has had enough of her."
Melantha hummed, taking a quick look to see if anyone was spying on their conversation before leaning to the side so her sister could hear her whisper.
"Did you also get the impression that she is…well…not quite right…in the head?"
Lyanna snorted.
"Impression? It's a fact. Even their banner men stay clear of her."
"I hear she is meant to wed Jaime Lannister."
"That family had it coming."
"Lyanna! You can't say things like that!"
They shared a look, and a few moments later busted into giggles.
A/N: alright, seems like Mel snapped there for a moment. Can't blame her, I would've been much worse if anyone tried to hurt my cat.
I almost got rid of that scene, but decided against it cause I wanted you to slowly start seeing how Mel can be like when she's had enough or when someone important to her is mistreated.
I also almost made Brandon travel south so I could have her see his "duel" against Baelish but I don't think that's meant to happen yet.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read the story and show your interest in it and your support!
Next chapter is almost done, and it will be from a different pov. You're gonna get your first glimpse of the very same guy that bought you into the story.
I hope you all have a lovely rest of the weekend!