Hello gals (guys?), it's me again!
First, I wanted to apologize for the many spelling mistakes I just found in the previous chapter (I'm seriously embarrassed) and hope that there aren't that many in this one.
Also, I wanted to thank you all for the comments on yesterday's chapter! It truly means a lot to me J
You'll see that I've included GoT song titles in this chapter. It's because I feel they suit the mood I tried conveying and listening to them while reading those parts really improve the immersion into the story.
Narcissa woke up with the sunrays warming her skin and the urge to spew out the contents of her stomach. She leapt from the bed, immediately heading to the chamber pot and crouched in front of it. It burnt her throat and her stomach cramped, but she knew it was the price to pay for last night's overindulgence.
"My lady, are you alright?" A small voice asked, startling Narcissa who quickly turned her head around to look at the intruder.
"What are you doing here?" She hissed, glaring at Olyvar as he covered his eyes with his hand. It was only then that she noticed she was still naked and quickly put on the first thing that came under her fingers, Robb's bathrobe. "You can look now," Narcissa sighed with irritation and Olyvar removed his hand only to show the blush on his cheeks. "What are you doing here?" She repeated quietly, still wary of her upset stomach.
"It's noon, my lady. Everyone was worried." The blond boy explained, fidgeting nervously. It seemed her threat had stuck, Narcissa thought wryly until something more important rushed through her hazy mind.
"Shit!" She blurted out without meaning to. "Lord Stark?"
"He left with his men at dawn." Olyvar replied and Narcissa nodded quickly before throwing him out, needing to be alone.
She had known the alcohol would take its toll but she never expected to wake up at noon feeling like shit. Robb Stark had ridden out to battle and she hadn't even been there to see him off. Love or no love, she ought have been there and shown him she cared, told him she wished him to come back victorious and unharmed. Especially unharmed.
Sighing at her own failure as a wife, Narcissa grabbed a clean dress from the trunk by the bed only to see a piece of paper folded in half on the mattress.
Thank you for being there for me last night.
I hope the rum is not making you suffer too much.
I'll be back soon,
Your husband, Robb.
The short message brought a silly grin to her lips. Preceptor Erasmus would have had a heart failure at his handwriting, but Narcissa loved the boyish carelessness of it, the negligent loops and the harsh lines.
She had been so focused on the form, that it took her a few seconds to comprehend the meaning behind the words. Memories from the previous flashed back in her mind and Narcissa felt her cheeks burn up as she remembered what had caused the soreness between her legs. "Oh Gods, no." She muttered mortified, recalling her suggestive behavior and pledging never to drink again, though she knew come dinner, she'd have forgotten all about it.
Narcissa hoped the blush was gone when she finally exited the tent to go have lunch, a small pouch in hand. The camp was almost entirely empty and quiet, eerily so. She had only ever seen it filled with men, but now, there were no more than a dozen guards in her eyesight. The cooks had been kind enough to keep some warm soup for her and Narcissa only asked them for a cup of boiling water to brew her tea. The kitchen maid who brought her the cup told her that Catelyn was praying in her tent, had been doing so since the men had left hours ago.
The young woman felt guilt overcome her as she drank her moon tea. She should have been keeping the poor woman company. Her mother-in-law had a husband accused of treachery by a boy king, her daughters were held prisoners in King's Landing and now her oldest son was in battle. And instead of comforting the woman who had never been anything but kind to her, Narcissa had been sleeping off her hangover like some irresponsible child.
Determined to make amends, Narcissa hurried through lunch and made her way through camp to Catelyn's tent until she spotted another much larger tent. She bit her lips knowing she shouldn't do it but a quick look around told her no one was looking, and no one needed to know.
The council tent was just as big inside as it looked from the outside though it was crowded by the large wooden table in its center. Narcissa circled the table before sitting down on the chair at its head, Robb's chair and for a moment she let herself imagine how it would feel like, what it would be like if she commanded the men around this table. "I'd probably have us all killed within a fortnight," she concluded with sarcastic laughter become composing herself. Maybe if she had been raised in Westeros, she'd have known how to do it. But as her mother always said, you could reshape the world with 'ifs'.*
Narcissa grabbed a few sheets of paper from a nearby board and started copying the large map that covered the whole table, stopping only to look at the small wooden figurines that littered the spread of paper. Stags for the Baratheons, lions for the Lannisters and wolves for the Starks. She had learned that much talking with Catelyn, though never asking directly as not to show her lack of knowledge on Westerosi politics.
She stared at one of the wolves for a long time, thinking about Robb Stark with a faraway smile and worrying about his safety until she realized what was happening and put the figurine back in its place as if she had been burnt. Narcissa finished the drawings in a hurry and left the council tent, giving the wolf one last look. "I'm leaving Westeros as soon as possible," she said firmly, trying to convince herself of it. She'd leave Westeros and there would be no more stags, no more lions and no more wolves. She'd be back in Florence and live in celibacy in the High Tower, surrounded with nothing but books and ideas. And peace.
With the unreasonable feeling of having done something bad, Narcissa headed back to her tent and proceeded to hide the drawings beneath her gowns in the trunk before going to meet Catelyn. The older woman was on her knees, praying in front of what she now recognized as a prayer wheel in the faith of the Seven. Silently, she joined Catelyn on the floor who immediately grabbed her hand with so much affection it only made her ache for her own mother even more.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning for your son and for you," Narcissa whispered when she felt the red-headed woman had stopped channeling the Gods.
"You are here now," Catelyn smiled, squeezing her hand once again in a comforting way only mothers knew how to do. "And as for Robb, he appeared very content this morning." Lady Stark added teasingly and Narcissa felt more embarrassment in that single moment than anyone ought to feel in a lifetime.
They remained together until the sound of blowing horns filled their ears and Catelyn rushed out of the tent like her life depended on it, dragging Narcissa along with her. Both women arrived at the edge of camp just in time to watch Robb Stark sneering at a man on his knees, a prisoner no doubt.
Catelyn ran into her son's arms as soon as he saw them and he hugged her back tightly, none of them caring about the blood on his armor staining her dress. Narcissa wished she could do the same, show affection so openly, but the Medici weren't the warmest of people and above all, she wasn't even supposed to feel any affection for him. But then, before she knew what was happening, she found herself in her husband's embrace, pressed against his iron chest plate and realized she didn't care about the blood either as he placed a kiss on her forehead before pulling back a few inches.
His curls were wet, his cheeks were brown with dirt and he was covered in blood, but he was alright and that was all that truly mattered. "I'm happy you've come back to me victorious and unharmed," Narcissa admitted before recognizing too much sentiment in her voice. "What I meant to say is that I'm too young to be a widow," she quickly added but the harm was done and when she looked up again, Robb was smiling.
"I know you care, Narcissa," he chuckled before his hand disappeared inside his pocket and took out the ring she had entirely forgotten about. "Found this when I got dressed this morning," Robb explained, giving the ring back to his wife. "The thought of you remained with me through the whole battle."
The innuendo wasn't lost on her but she didn't have time to dwell on his mischievous tone. Soon, all the men had gathered around of them, cheering. She felt incredibly out of place, but he didn't let go of her hand and so she remained next to him on the hill facing the soldiers.
Theon Greyjoy broke from the crowd and walked over to them. She saw Robb's face darken, suddenly reminded of the ongoing war once again. "I sent two thousand men to their graves today," he confessed to his friend, feeling the guilt consume him.
"The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice," Theon replied, seemingly unbothered by the death of two thousand of his colleagues and his detachment didn't go unnoticed by Narcissa.
"Aye, but the dead won't hear them," Robb concluded gravely before looking down at his wife and at his mother, as if reminding himself whom had done it for. He then let go of Narcissa's hand and stepped forward.
"One victory does not make us conquerors," Robb addressed the crowd.
"Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?" He roared and everyone went silent. It was the first time Narcissa had seen him like this, like a true leader. They didn't respect him just because of his name, but they saw in him a man worth following.
Some of their enemies might have called him a green boy, but in that moment, staring at the large figure in front of her, Narcissa only saw a steadfast wolf.
"This war is far from over!"
Nothing could have prepared Narcissa for what happened next. Although her husband's speech had been a cautious one, the camp was soon filled with the chorus of men celebrating their victory. Everywhere she looked, barrels of wine were being opened and she wondered where all that had even come from.
The night was merciful and they ate outside on large tables all pushed together as one. Catelyn was the only one who appeared glum. Narcissa knew without needing to ask that it was due to seeing the Kingslayer again. But wine flowed generously, bringing color to Catelyn's cheeks again and by the end of the night, there was the ghost of a smile on the woman's rosy lips.
Narcissa kept an eye on Robb as he drank with his soldiers, laughing loudly into the night, while she played cards with Travis and Clive, and a few others whose names she didn't know. No one cared about winning, not that night. The important win had happened earlier, now there was just drunken joy.
Out of nowhere, Robb appeared in front of Narcissa, cupping her face and kissing her lips, not caring about the audience. Despite her natural reluctance, she kissed him back, pleasantly surprised and just as surprisingly pleased by his display of affection, though she would never admit out loud.
"What was that for?" She mouthed once their lips broke apart for air.
"I am happy," he said, smiling.
-/-/-/- (A Lannister always pays his debts – Ramin Djawadi) -/-/-/-
Most of all, nothing prepared Narcissa for what happened three days later. For once, she had risen up early enough to break her fast with Robb. He was still emboldened by his tactical win at the Whispering Wood and the smile hadn't left his face since the feast. If anything, it had only grown larger when they had retired to their tent to continue the celebration on their own as husband and wife.
Every second Narcissa spent with him, she found herself growing fonder of him, of his smile, of the way he held her hand at any occasion, of the way he said her name. She had expected to hate her husband with all her might, instead, she now spent their time apart longing for him even though she knew deep down that their time together was counted.
He would soon be reunited with his family and so would she. Maybe one day he'd forgive her treason and they'd be friends, separated by the Narrow Sea. She didn't want to betray him and leave him once they reached King's Landing, but she belonged in Florence and her duty was to her city. Duty had to prevail above all else, it's what kept the world together after all.
It was with an unmatched determination that Narcissa had scribbled away her notes on paper after calculating how much time they'd need to reach to reach the Capitol. They could be there in a fortnight, which Piero and Gloria must have been at Florence's gates.
She wanted to leave Robb with an explanation, something to let him know she had come to appreciate his company in their short time together and that she was sorry to leave him. To tell him she was certain he'd make another woman very happy someday and that he would be the best father Westeros had ever known. Most of all, she wanted to tell him that she would miss him dearly.
Tears threatened her eyes but Narcissa willed herself not to cry. She was a Medici, forged in gold and gold didn't cry and yet, as if to squash that statement, a single tear fell on the parchment, blurring the words. "Don't be silly, Narcissa," she whispered to herself, sniffing before quickly rubbing away any evidence of her weakness with the back of her hand.
Suddenly, a loud noise rang through the camp. Immediately, Narcissa rushed out of the tent to see what was going on. The men outside respectfully bowed their heads at her, echoes of 'Lady Stark' filling the air but the smiles had eventually vanished after three days and the laughter had died down. With a bad feeling in her gut, Narcissa marched over to the council tent, the soldiers parting a way in front of her.
"They executed my father!" Robb's howl soured through the air although she was still meters away from the tent. She stopped in her tracks by the entrance with a tight heart as she mentally prepared herself for what she would encounter.
Narcissa stepped inside but hardly anyone seemed to take notice of her presence. All the eyes were on Robb as he kept on stabbing the wooden lion with a knife, over and over again, repeating those four words relentlessly. His voice appeared to be snuffing, cracking at the edges, as the anger turned into sadness, screams into cries, and Narcissa felt a surge of something powerful flow in her veins as she saw her husband on the verge of tears for the very first time.
"Out!" She shouted loudly enough to scare herself but Robb didn't flinch. At once, all the men turned to her but she only looked at the one who was at the opposite end of the room, leaning over the table and casting a shadow over the southernmost part of the map. "Everyone out!" She yelled again, and this time, they all stood and walked past her to exit the tent, no questions asked.
Once alone with her husband, she found herself hesitant to approach him. He had married her to cross a bridge and bring back his father. What would he see now when he looked at her? Would there be resentment in his eyes when he looked at her, or just regret?
Slowly, Narcissa made her way around the table until she was close enough to touch him. She carefully rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling slightly reassured when he didn't pull away from her. Robb was shaking beneath her touch and she stretched out her arm, covering his hand with hers over the blade. His palm was wet with blood, but he didn't feel pain in that moment. "Let go of the knife, Robb," she urged him softly, rubbing his shoulders through the leather. "You're bleeding."
"They executed my father." He repeated it again, as if he still could not believe it, only this time there was just sorrow in his voice. Narcissa carefully removed Robb's fingers from the knife, one by one and then with a gush of sudden fury, she grabbed the lion and threw it away, over the table.
"I'm sorry," she murmured gently, reaching back for his hand but he turned around to face her. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks stained with tears and the smile which had lasted three whole days was now gone. Before she could offer any comforting words, Robb fell to his knees in front of her, hugging her tightly as he cried against her belly. He only allowed himself to show emotion now, away from prying eyes and in the presence of his wife.
They remained like this for what felt like an eternity, until his knees hurt and she could feel his tears on her skin through the fabric of her gown. Narcissa found herself gently brushing her hand through his hair, hoping to bring him some comfort though she knew nothing she did now could bring back Lord Eddard Stark.
Looking down at her husband, Narcissa felt something she never had before. She found herself hating the Lannister boy with so much strength, she'd rip open his throat with her own teeth if he ever crossed her path. She'd feast on his flesh and drink his blood, with a red smile on her lips. And then she'd have his head put on a spike until the crows ate away all the skin and the muscles, and there was nothing left but a skull.
It was only then, that she realized she was in love. Robb wasn't the barbarian she had expected him to be. He had become her friend, her lover, her husband. Her family. He was the man who made sure her plate was full before he started eating, the one who listened eagerly whenever she felt like sharing snippets of her life and he was the one who brought a smile to her lips in times of war. She hated the Lannisters because they had hurt him, brought him to his knees and she would have them pay her their debt.
Robb stood up again when there were no more tears left to cry. He looked at her with those mesmerizing eyes but they weren't the same anymore. The blue had hardened into ice, and the innocence was gone. Catelyn would later say that she never saw her boy again after her husband died.
"I will kill them all." He promised, looking straight into his wife's brown eyes. She was his kin now and he'd kill anyone who harmed or threatened to harm his family. If blood was the price to pay to keep them safe, then he'd pay it tenfold. "Every last one them. I will kill them all."
In front of him, Narcissa wasn't frightened by his words. "You'll kill them all." She asserted.
"I'll kill them all," he repeated.
"And you'll rid the world of the Lannister name."
-/-/-/- (King of the North – Ramin Djawadi) -/-/-/-
Nothing once more could have prepared Narcissa for what happened that night as they all drank outside under the moonlight reminiscing about Lord Eddard Stark. In front of her, Catelyn kept her eyes dry though evidence of past tears remained in the dark purple circles around them. The candles didn't provide for much light, but it was enough to see that every man had grief written across their eyes.
Robb had joined Catelyn in the woods after Narcissa had reminded him that his mother was suffering as much as he was, if not more. Mother and son then spent their day alone in the woods, sharing their grief. Narcissa hadn't joined them, she felt she had no right to, never having met the fallen lord. Instead, she had passed her day glaring at the Kingslayer in his cell from afar with a twisted smile on her face. Watched him crawl around like a caged up lion, chains around his hands and feet. He was the cause of all of this and Narcissa had to keep reminding herself of Robb's sisters in order to resist the temptation to kill Jaime Lannister and watch his pretty face turn grey.
Around her, the men were now sharing their memories of Eddard Stark. Some had only met him once or twice, others had ridden to battle with him, a few had even attended his wedding with Catelyn at Riverrun. And none of them had a bad thing to say about him.
Next to her, Robb was listening intently to each and every story, his hand comfortably resting on her thigh over the dress. The sadness, the anger, all that had vanished and he was stoic now, sitting with his back straight and his head held high. Narcissa glanced at him sideways every few seconds and wondered if this was all for show and if he was still weeping on the inside.
But then the conversation turned and she found her skin erupting in goose bumps despite the thick cloak and Robb's arm around her shoulders. It was as if her body knew what was about to happen before she did.
"The proper course is clear," a river lord shouted, drink in hand. "Pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his."
"Renly is not the King." Robb corrected him immediately, his voice sharp in the dark night.
"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord. He put your father to death."
"That doesn't make Renly king. He's Robert's youngest brother. If Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly cannot be king before Stannis."
It was most likely then that Narcissa knew with certainly what was about to happen. She desperately wanted to pull Robb away from what was to come, take him to their tent, or better even, bring him to Florence with her. But the rebellion had begun and they were sitting in the literal middle of it.
"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis?"
"Renly is not right!" Someone shouted in the crowd though Narcissa couldn't quite pinpoint where it had come from.
"My lords. My lords!" Lord Greatjon Umber roared loudly and the men quietened at once. "Here is what I say to these two Kings." He spat on the ground and the audience cheered. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong!" Everyone laughed but Catelyn and Narcissa. The latter tried leaping forward to stop this but Robb's grip on her thigh tightened and she stayed put. Did he want this? Was he aware of the consequences?
"Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to and now the Dragons are dead!" He drew his sword from the sheath and then pointed it at Robb. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to. The King in the North!" The Greatjon shouted before kneeing in front of her husband who stood up at once, tall and imposing with his armor and the thick furs.
"I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too." The river lord agreed. "The King in the North!" He screamed and his words thundered all around them.
"Am I your brother, now and always?" Theon Greyjoy asked.
"Now and always." Robb confirmed solemnly.
"My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day until my last day."
Choruses of 'King in the North' erupted in the night as every man drew their sword and kneed to Robb Stark. Narcissa shifted on her seat to glance at her mother-in-law only to find the older woman looked as scared as Narcissa herself did. Both knew what happened to kings.
"Why don't you just call yourself a king?" A fifteen years-old Narcissa asked her father as they left the Signoria after a successful vote. He held all the power in the city anyway, the least he could do was own up to it.
"Kings have a tendency to lose their heads." Cosimo replied nonchalantly, descending the stairs with grace. "I'd rather have mine on my shoulders than on a spike."
Robb took her hand in his and pulled her upwards. Narcissa hesitantly complied, standing up though remaining much shorter than her husband. She looked into his eyes, hoping to see fear or at least wariness, but there was only stubborn determination. She tried to say something, warn him that his was stupid and reckless but before she could assemble the words, Robb spoke first.
"The Queen in the North," he announced before kissing her and she could only hope, that for once, her father had been wrong.
I hope the gloomy tone in this chapter didn't scare you off. I expect to be able to update quickly because I've decide to miss classes this week haha.
English is not my first language and although I've grown comfortable reading in English, I still feel my writing shows my clumsiness with the language, and for that I apologize.
Please keep the comments coming! They never fail to make me smile and I really need to because I watched the Red Wedding episode for the first today, and although I knew what was coming, boy, I did not expect to see Grey Wind's head on Robb's body.
I will certainly change that in this story!
* I don't know if this makes sense in English. I translated it from the French saying "Avec des 'si' on refait le monde." or the classic version, "Avec des 'si' on mettrait Paris en bouteille".