The Princess of Winterfell

She dreamt an old dream that she had dreamt many times before.

Myrcella was walking in her gardens in King's Landing. She could smell the sweetness from the flowers around her that masked the stench of the city. It was a beautiful day, without a single cloud in the sky, and a cool breeze felt good on her bare arms.

She picked three flowers, the first she decided to pick for her uncle, Tyrion, the second for her father, and the third for her cousin, Ormund. Three red roses, as sweet as honey.

Ormund didn't particularly like flowers, but she decided to give him one anyways. He liked things that she gave to him at least.

When she turned around though, she saw her uncle Renly looming over her, tall as can be. 'Uncle,' she had exclaimed when she saw him.

'Are those for me?' He had asked her in response.

'No,' she giggled, as though it was obvious, before she picked another rose. 'This one is,' Myrcella said, offering it to him.

Her uncle took it and placed it carefully in her hair, nestling it among her golden curls so that it would stay.

'Walk with me Princess,' he told her, and for a time they did, arm in arm. They passed the Throne Room, Small Council chambers and the Tower of the Hand, before walking through the Middle Bailey, at which point he left her off to go speak with Ser Loras, though this was before he had earned his spurs.

She stood around for a little while, until she finally saw two figures come running in. It was Joffrey, chasing Lord Arryn's heir, Edric, Myrcella saw, though she quickly saw there was blood on Edric, who was running towards the Tower of the Hand.

'Joff,' she called, starting to run towards him, by now Edric had made it to his father's tower and was safe, which left Joffrey standing there.

When she got closer, she saw he was fuming. There was blood all over him she realized quickly, though she couldn't tell just how much since he was wearing red.

'Joffrey, what?' She began to say as she caught up to him, before she saw it.

Her brother had a knife in his hand, red with blood. He turned towards her with an angry look upon his face.

Myrcella didn't think to take any chances. Instead, she ran past the library and up the Serpentine Steps, making for her room in Maegor's holdfast, where she could lock her door to keep him out.

She was fast, but Joffrey was faster, and as Myrcella neared the bottom of the steps, she felt a sudden pain in her back, and she fell the last few steps down.

Someone had taken notice of her plight, and had moved to defend her, while she tried to crawl away.

Her mother had tried to help her to her feet, but Myrcella couldn't get up, and the last thing she had seen before she passed out was the flowers she had picked, and the one her uncle had placed in her hair, on the ground before her, covered in blood, as the dream faded.

Myrcella awoke covered in sweat. She saw a golden figure near her bedside. "Mother?" She called out weakly. It was her mother she wanted more than anything, she thought sadly.

Her throat was so dry, and her vision was blurred. "Relax princess," she heard a familiar voice call. "Drink," he said, and so she did.

It was water, she noted, and she drank nearly the full flagon, before she couldn't drink anymore, weakly giving it back.

"My son…" She asked. Eddard, she recalled. She had named him, in honor of Robb's father. It had been the best name she could think for him, knowing that Joff and her mother had killed Lord Eddard.

"He is well my lady," she heard someone say.

"Bring him to me," Myrcella said more firmly. She wanted to see him with her own eyes, rather than trust in their word for it. He is my son, I have a right to see him.

"That would not be wise right now," said that same voice, after a hand had gone to her forehead. It must have been the Maester, she realized. His hand was very cold when it touched her.

"I said…" She started saying again, before she saw the maester then nod to someone else, who promptly left.

Myrcella tried to sit up further, but found moving to be difficult. She could see more clearly, and realized it was Rosamund who she had called mother, while Ser Arys Oakheart stood there as well, and another nurse she didn't know.

Her left arm still burned, and when she looked at it, she could still see that it was bandaged. Her head hurt too, though it was a dull pain compared to the rest of her body.

It all hardly compared to the pain between her legs. She felt as though she had been ripped apart on the inside, and someone had put the pieces together anew.

"Leona?" She asked softly. When she closed her eyes she could see Leona's big brown eyes. Leona was a pretty girl, one of her younger ladies, with Cynthea and Elayna.

"She's dead, my princess," Ser Arys told her gently.

Myrcella remembered, she hadn't been Leona truly, but some trick. "What happened?"

"Some warlock of Qarth killed Lady Leona several moons ago, my lady, and took her place. They used a magic called a glamor, though I confess I know little of the art. I might have asked the warlock for more, but Princess Rhaenys had him burned." Maester Luwin told her.

The fact that he had called Rhaenys Princess struck her as queer, but she thought little of it. She nodded, before Maester Luwin gave her some food. Myrcella didn't see or care what it was, but she ate it, and it tasted good.

Outside her window, she heard something strange, some beast, neither human nor wolf, calling out that Myrcella did not know. Before she could ask anything though, somebody closed the window, and the noise was gone.

Her mind was taken off the queer noise though when the door opened, and one of her ladies, Cassandra, stepped in with a babe who was crying.

He was better cleaned off than last time she had seen him, properly wrapped up in Stark colors now, and he was placed in her arms even though he was still crying.

He looks like Robb, Myrcella thought as she looked at him. His nose, his hair, and everything else about him looked just like Robb did. He's beautiful. The only thing that didn't look like Robb were his eyes, and a small spot on the top of his head where the hair was golden like hers instead of auburn.

She realized he must be hungry, and fumbled a little at her garb, before she brought her son to her breast to nurse, as she had seen her own mother do before with her younger siblings. Both her mother and grandmother had nursed their babes, so she figured she would do the same.

"My lady, we brought a wet nurse from the Wintertown, you do not need to-" He said, before Myrcella cut him off.

"-I can feed him myself," she told him, with a flair of anger in her voice. I have to, Myrcella thought to herself. The North no doubt saw her as some southron girl, Joff's sister, Cersei's daughter and Tywin's granddaughter. Some would blame her for Lord Eddard's death, and want her killed for it, so she would need to remind them she was the mother to Robb's son and heir.

She realized it would be a good long while before Robb returned to her, if he did at all. She prayed that the gods would keep him safe, and let him come home to meet their Ned.

"You are not well my lady. Rest would serve you well for the time being more than anything," the maester said to her.

Myrcella realized it was worse than he was telling her. "I'm dying aren't I?" She asked the Maester. Her voice broke as she said it, and suddenly she started feeling nearly as weak as when she first woke. She felt that her son was no longer sucking, and so she adjusted her clothes, and tried to simply hold onto her son, who was asleep in her arms now.

Maester Luwin felt her forehead again. "Your fever is starting to go down my lady. It may be that I was wrong. The first one is the hardest for most, and giving birth at your age is most perilous. You should avoid getting with child for another year at least. It is sleep you need though, so that I can avoid delivering Lord Robb more terrible news."

"What news is there of Robb?" She asked.

"His lordship was able to win a pair of Battles near Riverrun, first defeating and capturing your uncle, Ser Jaime, at the Battle of the Whispering Wood, before he descended on the camps laying siege to the castle itself. The Lannister host is slain, captured or scattered, and the siege lifted. Your husband still lives, when last we had heard." He explained.

Myrcella gave a small sigh of relief. Robb still lived at least, which had to be good for something.

"Drink this, it will help you feel better," Maester Luwin said, bringing a small cup to her mouth. She drank it all, though it didn't taste very good, and immediately felt herself sink back down into her bed.

Her dreams were different this time. She was a silvery man, standing in a sept, wedding some girl who looked a lot like Rhea did.

Then she was in the royal apartments, what had been her chambers once, where a pretty woman of brown hair was trying to seduce the silver haired man.

The scene changed again, and this time another silvery man was placing a golden cloak upon the shoulders of the man who she was seeing things from. A sword whose hilt looked familiar hung from his scabbard she saw.

After that, she was upon a red dragon, landing on the tourney grounds. The silvery man who she was seeing things from knelt before the royal box, offering his crown to the same man who had placed the golden cloak upon his shoulders, the king, she had realized, who bid him rise warmly.

Next they were in another sept, wedding another woman. She had silvery hair that fell down past her waist, tall and slender, and beautiful, and pretty purple eyes.

Then they were in a different castle, where that same woman was dead, being carried by the silvery man back back to her bed at the top of the stairs, where he stood vigil at the bedside with another young woman, of silvery gold hair, who was beautiful and richly dressed, though stout, and boasted a large bosom.

They were then in another birthing chamber, with the last woman, who had birthed a son that the silvery man held. Aegon, he was named, before the dream shifted again.

She was in a Godswood, but not one that she knew, and Myrcella could make out the great towers of Harrenhal. There were two and ten cuts upon the Weirwood Tree before them, and the silvery man made it thirteen.

The last vision she saw was the silvery man atop a dragon, high in the sky, doing battle with another dragon, ridden by another silvery man, who had only one eye. They were falling, faster and faster, getting closer to the lake below, when the silvery man lept of his dragon, sword in hand, and stabbed it through the socket that lacked a true eye, before they hit the ground, and Myrcella woke again.

Her son was gone, and she was unattended in her room.

Myrcella rose from the bed, impressed at her own strength. Her forehead still burned when she touched it, but it didn't matter, she wanted to leave. She wanted to see him, to be with him, and know that he was safe at least.

She began to walk out the door, and found herself in the hallway, but found herself suddenly unsure where to go. It seemed like there was some crying to her left, so Myrcella decided to go that way.

Walking was hard, and every step was agony to Myrcella, but it didn't matter to her.

When she finally made it to the room she thought she heard the crying from, Myrcella felt herself collapse.

A figure exited the chambers that she had tried to get into, Rhaenys, Myrcella realized, who had something on her shoulder that she didn't recognize.

She heard Rhaenys call for help, and the last thing she saw before she passed out was Ser Arys scooping her up, and carrying her back to her bed.

Dreams came to her again. She was dining with the dead she saw, in the Great Hall of some castle she didn't know.

High up on the dias she saw her father, jesting with Lord Eddard and Lord Jon Arryn. Further off she saw her uncle, Tyrion, doing tricks on the table, much to the delight of those around him. His shadow on the wall though remained as still as a gargoyle.

She saw three figures who she recognized from the crypts, who she guessed to be Lord Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna.

Another man with the Stark look, though bigger than the Starks Myrcella had met was there, who she recognized to be Lord Cregan Stark from his statue in the crypts, sitting next to a woman of raven black hair, who raised his cup to her when he saw her.

She turned to see a silver haired woman, with two girls who looked identical, both of whom had babes to their breasts.

There were other Starks, and Baratheons, and Lannisters there, she realized, but she did not recognize most of them.

At one point she caught a glimpse of Leona, who gave her a sad look.

There was the silver man from her last dream, and another silver man who wore black armor covered in rubies in the shape of the three headed dragon of House Targaryen.

Further off, a man with the longest nails she had ever seen, and a mop of unkempt silver hair, well streaked with grey brooded in the corner. Something about the man scared her, and made her turn away from him.

The faces kept coming and coming, until finally she saw a golden woman who looked so much like her mother, like her, who beckoned her closer. Myrcella didn't want to, but in her dream, her body obliged, until she was next to the woman, who embraced her closely.

She finally found her courage to try and say something. "Am I dead?" She asked.

The golden woman gave her a sad look. "One day yes, but not now my sweet. You must be strong."

"Who are you?" Myrcella asked, but was only treated with a grin before the dream faded away,

She awoke in a different room, much larger than when she had last woken, or even her regular chambers. She wasn't unattended this time either, she noted, when she woke, with several figures in around her bed, which seemed much too large for her.

"Where am I?" She asked quietly, though she was surprised by how much easier her voice came to her. She wasn't sweating so badly, nor did she feel overwhelmingly cold, and when she touched her forehead, it was normal. She didn't feel as though someone had ripped her apart anymore, just sore, though her arm still hurt.

Suddenly Myrcella realized where she was. They had moved her to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn's chambers, since Robb was Lord now, and Lord Eddard was dead, whilst Catelyn remained in King's Landing.

It was Maester Luwin who noticed she was awake first, though nobody must have heard her. He gave her some water, which she drank greedily, as well as some food again, which she ate up with little thought.

"It is good to see you are well my lady," he told her.

Rhea was there, she realized, giving Myrcella her little Eddard, who she gladly took. Her son still slept, but it didn't matter to her. Myrcella took him and hugged him close to her.

She cooed softly, rocking the boy softly. Holding him made her feel much better, and somehow she felt a strength that hadn't been there before.

"Will Robb be returning home soon?" She asked hopefully. Perhaps in the wake of learning about the birth of their son, Robb would come home.

"I fear not my lady," Maester Luwin told her, giving her a sad look. "After Lord Eddard was killed, it seems Robb proclaimed Aegon to be King, and now he is warring to put him on the throne."

"Aegon… King…" Myrcella managed to say in disbelief. Suddenly it made sense why Rhaenys had been called Princess, and when she looked at Ser Arys, he wasn't wearing his white cloak anymore.

If Robb had made Aegon a King, that meant she wasn't a Princess anymore or at least not here.

Not being a Princess though didn't worry her so much as the fact that it would make Daenerys one again. With Robb at war with her family, she wondered if perhaps that would mean Robb would take her to wife instead, finding some way to set her aside.

The thought made Myrcella shudder. "Can I go to him?" She asked. Somehow she wondered if seeing him would be able to make it better.

"My lady, you will still need time before you are ready to travel, and Robb is at war. He may not even still be at Riverrun as we speak, and a journey like that will hardly be safe now," Maester Luwin said, much to her disappointment.

She knew that she was most likely safer here, but it still didn't change the fact that she wanted to see Robb again, to hear from his words he didn't mean to marry Daenerys.

"Leave us then," she told the room, wanting to just be alone with her son. She supposed she could be fine with not seeing Robb, but she still didn't appreciate everyone in her room, leaving her without any privacy.

There were some protests, but after some arguing, they all finally left, and she was alone again, holding the little pup that had grown inside her. I made him, she thought with some pride, feeling certain that when Robb saw him that he would forget all about Daenerys.

Myrcella started to sing softly to the babe, while he remained sound asleep, and she started to move to the edge of the bed and sat up on it.

All she was wearing was a loose nightgown, and when she looked down she was a little surprised that her belly wasn't so large anymore. She began to get up, and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room.

It took a little more effort than she would've liked, but when she got there, she sat down, and finished the song she was singing. Princess or not, she decided that he was all that mattered to her.

Author Notes:

So… Fun…

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