To the guest who left a comment on chapter 8 and whom I forgot to answer (sorry): Though Annabel Scholey's character in Medici was one of my inspirations for Narcissa character wise, in my mind she looks more like Nathalie Kelley in Dynasty but I'll leave that to everyone's imagination!
"What is going on, father?" A young Narcissa asked with wide brown eyes, staring at the large bonfire which illuminated the night.
"They're praying to R'hllor, the Lord of the Light," Cosimo explained before taking his daughter in his arms, afraid he might lose her in the wild crowd. Amara would have his head if she found out he had taken their daughter to a Red Temple but they were in Myr after all, and Narcissa was a curious child. "They're asking him to bring back dawn."
His daughter giggled in his arms, long dark hair falling over her eyes. "They should stop," she protested quietly. "Mother says the longer it remains dark, the longer I am allowed to sleep."
Cosimo looked at the young girl with pride and adoration. She truly was his daughter, there was no doubt. Remarkably unimpressed and pragmatic at all times. "Let's get you to bed, then." He said, walking them out of the temple.
"Lord cast your light upon us for the night is dark and full of terrors," the priests chanted in unison.
"Your Grace?" Narcissa heard the words feebly before a hand came to rest on her shoulder, making her lose balance on her tipped chair and almost fall down if she hadn't been able to grab at the desk at the last moment.
"I could have broken my neck, Olyvar!" Narcissa shouted, no longer feeling sleepy now that the adrenaline had kicked in.
"It's the King, your Grace."
"What about him?" Narcissa inquired urgently, standing up immediately and forgetting about the papers in her lap.
"He's injured."
At once, she bolted out of the tent and everyone seemed to part ways for her. This instantly reminded her of when Eddard Stark had died, the silent eerie feeling when all men were quiet. Narcissa hurried over to where most of the crowd was gathered. She didn't need to fight her way in, every man let her through until she was standing right next to Catelyn, looking at Robb.
He was lying on a stretcher, unconscious. He wasn't wearing his armor or his doublet, only a shirt and breeches and yet the beads of sweat kept his locks stuck to his face. But that wasn't what caught her attention, it was the large gaping wound on his shoulder. Narcissa wanted to yell, ask why none of the nurses had bothered stitching it up but she knew the answer just by staring at the gash. It looked nothing like it was supposed to do. There was no red, only grey and black and Narcissa instinctively knew there had been poison in play. Robb was young and healthy, the wound would be healing already otherwise.
Narcissa extended her hand, wanting to brush the hair away from his face but then she found her arm shaking in the air, merely inches away from his face and froze. Robb had promised her the Crag would be a mere formality, that he'd be back so soon she wouldn't even notice that he was gone in the first place. She had seen injured men since the beginning of the war, more than she could count and though she took no pleasure in it, it never made her feel like she might just pass out. This was Robb, her Robb and for an instant, it was like her brain couldn't, wouldn't allow her to process the image in front of her until a bolt shot down her spine and she pulled back her hand as if she had just been burned.
"Bring him to our tent!" She ordered loudly, trying to keep her voice steady though she wasn't entirely sure it was working.
Unsurprisingly, the men carrying the stretcher followed her orders and Catelyn rushed inside the tent with them. Narcissa stayed back, pulling Talisa aside with her, away from indiscrete ears. "What is causing that?" She asked, her voice kept low.
"I believe it's poison, my lady." Talisa whispered back, her accent thicker than ever before as she wiped her blood covered hands on the white apron.
"Do I look stupid to you?" Narcissa snapped and the tall foreign woman flinched at her tone. "What kind of poison?" She asked, calmer this time after taking a few deep breaths, knowing that being hotblooded would get her nowhere.
"The others and I think the arrow was covered with dart frog poison," Talisa said slowly, too slowly for Narcissa's taste. "We tried everything but the fever won't go down." The nurse said, looking scared, knowing the implications behind her words. If the fever didn't go down and the poison spread…
"Come with me," Narcissa sighed with resignation, heading to the tent. She was no healer, far from it but she had spent all her life with her nose in a book in preparation for the High Tower and it better be useful now, or Gods be damned, she'd burn the whole of Westeros to the ground and kill Joffrey herself.
She stepped inside the tent, Talisa close behind, only to find it crowded with people. Catelyn was silently sobbing next to Robb, two nurses were whispering between themselves and handful of soldiers stood there simply gaping. "I want everyone out but for Catelyn and Talisa," Narcissa seethed, almost pushing the others out herself.
Finally, everyone started leaving one by one and Catelyn lifted her head at Narcissa then. Her Tully blue eyes were bloodshot and deep creases had already started appearing around them. Her mother-by-law looked like she wanted to say something but Narcissa quickly turned away before she could. She was already panicking, her body was trembling and the back of her neck felt too warm. If she stared at Robb just one second longer, her judgment would be too clouded for her mind to work properly.
Averting her gaze, Narcissa rummaged through her trunk before taking out the wooden box where she kept the medicine she had brought from Essos. "You won't need any of this, but I'll be calmer if you take it with you anyway," Cosimo had told his daughter, watching the healer pack two boxes, one for her and for Gloria.
"Keep giving him whatever you have given him so far for the fever," Narcissa instructed, taking out two vials from the wooden box, hoping her memory wouldn't fail her now. "Clean the wound with this, it should neutralize the poison," she continued, handing Talisa the biggest vial. "And have him drink this too, for the fever." She directed, placing both things in the nurse's hands making sure she understood before walking away.
"Where are you going?" Catelyn shouted, her voice cracking with tears. Against her better judgment, Narcissa turned around only to see the accusatory look on the woman's face. And then her gaze darted to Robb. For a split second, she almost believed this was some sort of a very bad joke and he was only sleeping. But there wasn't that peaceful look on his face that he always had when he slept and his curls were matted with sweat because of the fever. She felt her chest tighten and her vision blurry the longer she kept looking at him, and she didn't know whether she wanted to cry or to scream, or maybe both.
"I cannot stay," she whispered softly, her teeth almost chattering even though she felt too hot. "I cannot stand to watch him like this," Narcissa added too quietly for anyone to hear, before turning around again.
"He is my son!" Catelyn yelled. "He is your husband! You have a duty to him!"
The woman kept on shouting as Narcissa stepped out, wiping away the tears from her eyes before they could slide down her cheeks. She was a Medici, forged in Gold and Gold didn't cry, but it did burn with anger.
-/-/-/-
Narcissa pulled open the flap, gesturing for Maege Mormont to step inside before doing the same. Seated around the council table, Umber, Bolton, Glover and Karstark were arguing animatedly, not noticing the Queen's presence until she sat down at the head of the table.
"Which one of you will bother telling me what the hell happened at the Crag?" Narcissa hissed, squeezing the armrests tightly as if that would calm down her anger at this point.
"What are you doing here, your Grace?" Lord Karstark asked, his face one of surprise. "Shouldn't you be by the King's side?"
"I am not a nurse, Lord Karstark." Narcissa said through gritted teeth, blood boiling inside her veins. "I am, however, your Queen and I asked you a question."
Karstark looked around the tent, hoping that maybe another lord would take over for him but no one did and he was left with no choice but to recount what had happened. They had expected the Crag to surrender, Lord Westerling had said as much in his letter. However, once there, they found that he had gathered his men instead. Robb had only brought two hundred of his men, not expecting to encounter resistance and it ended in a bloodbath in which he took a poisoned arrow to the shoulder, between the plates of his armor.
Narcissa closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, hoping that it would somehow keep her from killing the men in her presence. "Gather five thousand of your men," Narcissa ordered eventually, reopening her eyes only to notice that everyone was staring at her. "We ride back to the Crag in an hour."
"I'm not confident the King would approve of that, your Grace," Lord Umber chimed in after a few seconds of complete silence.
"If you had done your jobs properly, perhaps the King would be here to disapprove of my idea in person," Narcissa remarked with sarcasm, putting the older man back into his place. "In his absence, my word is law."
Lord Umber nodded gravelly, somewhat surprised by her attitude. Next to him, Lady Mormont was smirking, most likely enjoying this new dynamic. Narcissa might have done too if the circumstances were different. Right now she was playing ruler only because her husband lay unconscious in their bed and the truth was, she'd much rather be curled up in a corner and cry, but she was queen now and with that title, came duties too.
"With all due respect, your Grace," Lord Bolton said calmly, nodding at her. "I believe our priority right now should be dealing with the prisoners. There are too many of them."
Narcissa closely eyed the man with the receding hairline. No one would deny he was getting older, but old and weak weren't synonyms, and his expression was merely proof of that. "Am I the King, Lord Bolton?" She asked curtly, making everyone in the tent raise their brows with confusion.
"No, your Grace." Roose Bolton replied hesitantly after a while, looking puzzled.
"Are you the King, Lord Bolton?" Narcissa asked again.
"No, your Grace."
"Then why should either one of us go against the King's express wishes in the matter and execute the prisoners?" The question was evidently rhetoric and the stern look on Bolton's face showed her he was smart enough not to answer it.
Narcissa instructed the commanders to gather up their men and their fastest horses. They had to take the Crag before the Westerlings could ask the Lannisters for reinforcement, or worse, inform them the King in the North was injured. Surely, they'd use their moment of weakness to attack. "And make sure that there are least ten guards with him at all times," she added.
Slowly, everyone stood up from their chairs, ready to go out and do as instructed, but Narcissa asked Lord Bolton to wait a moment. She saw the way he looked at her. There was discomfort, but also something much stronger in his deeply set eyes.
"Tell me, Lord Bolton, how much do you hate me?" Narcissa inquired with a smirk, leaning back against the chair to observe the tall man in front of her. He had that kind of frightening look to him, the one that made people go silent and rise up as soon as he entered a room but she remained seated and ready to speak.
"Your Grace?" Roose immediately blurted, brows furrowed on his ashy skin.
"Given the choice, would you first have me flayed and then raped, or the other way around?" The question took him by surprise but Narcissa noticed the way he didn't seem horrified by the mere thought of it. Robb had told her just a few days ago that Lord Bolton didn't appreciate her counselling the King in private. "Not a woman's place or role" were the words the man had used.
"First raped then flayed, your Grace" Bolton replied earnestly after a few seconds. He was bold, she had to give him that. "But worry not, I am loyal to your husband."
"Good," Narcissa smiled back before standing up from her chair. "I thank you for your candor, Lord Bolton." She didn't care if he hated her. Many people hated her simply for being a Medici, her own grandfather did and it had never bothered her. As long as Bolton was faithful to his King, she could live with that.
Narcissa stepped out the council tent only to notice that the sun had set and evening was upon them. She wasn't pleased to ride out in the darkness, but she didn't have much choice. The sooner they departed, the sooner they'd be back.
Walking across camp to the stables, she noticed Grey Wind was guarding their tent along with some guards. For a moment, she thought about going inside but then decided against it when she was close enough to hear Catelyn's cries from inside the canvas. "If I go back there, I won't have the willpower to leave," Narcissa whispered, reminding herself that what she was about to do was much more useful than crying at his side. He had been given the proper medication, she had made sure of it, insisting that Talisa use as many vials as need be. Her presence would in there would be of no benefit to him. She wasn't a phoenix and her tears didn't have healing powers.
At least, that's what she kept reminding herself as she mounted her horse and left camp with part of the army, Clive and Travis riding by her side. The Crag was farther away than she had first expected and what she had hoped would be a couple of hours, took the entire night.
-/-/-/-
"The Young Wolf sent you to negotiate with me?" Lord Westerling commented with a dry chuckle, eyeing her up and down with disdain. For someone whose house had lost so much wealth and prestige, he still remained a very proud man. "Am I not worthy of his presence anymore?"
Narcissa knew exactly what he was doing, referring to Robb's injury in a derisive tone just to spike her. Sadly for Westerling, she had dealt with such mocking in the past when her father had been sent to exile and she was the only one capable of getting his sentencing removed. "I'm afraid from now on, you'll have to content yourself with me." She smiled politely, before stretching out her hand for the bald man to kiss. "I am Narcissa Stark, née de Medici and wife of whom you so affectionately call the Young Wolf."
Gawen Westerling didn't kiss her hand. Instead, his chest erupted in a hearty laugh that made Travis' hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. "He sends me his banker now." Lord Westerling commented contemptuously before sitting down behind his desk and inviting her to take a seat. "Very well, then. How much are you willing to offer for our surrender?"
Narcissa cocked her eyebrow at him, but Gawen Westerling remained stern and this time, it was her turn to laugh. "I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression but money's not on the table, Lord Westerling," she derided, leaning back against the chair and crossing her legs. "I am here to present you with an ultimatum: Surrender peacefully or watch your men die."
The old man stared her in the eyes, as if expecting her to look away and when she didn't, he starting chortling loudly making Narcissa wonder whether he was always gleeful like this or if had merely had one cup too many already. "How many prisoners does your King in the North keep? Hundreds, thousands?" He leaned forward then, the corners up of his lips turned up smugly. "Even if I lost the battle, Robb Stark wouldn't kill my men, he'd take them prisoners!"
Narcissa looked away from the man for a second, needing to calm herself down lest she try to have his throat cut in the presence of his guards. Though she had ridden through the entire night, the cold wind hadn't been able to cool down her anger. "Your memory seems to be failing you, my lord," she said flatly. "You're not negotiating with the King in the North, Lord Westerling. You're talking with the Queen in the North and rumor has it, she holds herself to much lower moral standards than her husband."
Narcissa watched as the bald man's face lost its amusement and its color before standing up and walking around the desk until she stood just in front of him. "Of course, maybe those are nothing more than rumors," she drawled, noticing how his scalp seemed to glistening and setting the papers down in front of him. "You can either find out how ten thousand Northerners fight, or you can sign these papers and live to see another day." Narcissa said, dipping the quill in the inkwell and handing it to the old man. "I heard the weather will be good tomorrow."
Just as expected, a few minutes later they were all standing in the courtyard watching Lord Westerling swear fealty to the King in the North. Narcissa didn't have ten thousand men with her, she had five thousand give or take a few. Ten thousand men would have taken too long to get ready and travel, and she had been scared of leaving the camp lightly defended when Robb was injured. But of course Lord Westerling didn't have to know that.
Narcissa ordered her men to gather up supplies and medicine to take back to camp, before deciding to leave six hundred men behind to dissuade Westerling from getting stupid ideas. It took them a little over an hour to be ready to go and Narcissa was growing increasingly impatient, to the point where she forced a faster pace on her horse than what she usually did. "I know you're worried but he's going to be fine." Travis said reassuringly, riding next to her.
"You don't know that." Narcissa snarled. She wasn't irritated with Travis per se, after all, it was her who had asked him to accompany her, but the whole situation was getting on her nerves. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." She apologized after taking a few deeps breaths.
"You are my Queen, you owe me no apology," Travis chuckled. "What you did in there, that was impressive!"
He didn't shut up for the rest of the ride, telling her how he was born in Karhold to a large family, the younger of six brothers and sisters. How he once got lost in the Grey Cliffs with his older brother when he was only fifteen namedays old, and had to walk miles and miles in the cold until they came across a small village with an inn. "They had me washing dirty plates for hours in exchange for a small bowl of stew," Travis laughed, recounting the story.
"Poor little, Travis," Narcissa teased. "Did you cry for mommy, too?"
Her companion gave her a dirty look before a smirk took over his face. "No, a pretty, young waitress kept me good company."
Narcissa knew what he was doing, trying to distract her with his childhood stories and she was grateful for it. It was a kind gesture but she couldn't shake off the tightness in her heart as they got closer to camp. She was certain she had remembered the healer's explanations and given Robb the right medicine. And yet, the worry was still there, clouding all her thoughts.
Narcissa dismounted her horse as soon as they arrived, not waiting for help when she spotted Olyvar nearby, expecting her. "How is he?" She asked as soon as he was within earshot.
"The fever broke this morning and the King woke up a couple of hours ago, your Grace." The squire replied and Narcissa felt a heavy weight lift off her as soon as he said those words. Robb would be well and the Crag was theirs.
She was starting to run to her tent when Olyvar caught her shoulder, making her stop dead in her tracks. "There's something else, your Grace," the blond boy gulped. "The Kingslayser escaped before the break of dawn with the help of Lady Stark."
Narcissa felt her eyes widen for a second as she processed what she had just been told before glaring at the squire even though he was not the one to blame. At this point, she had gone through too many emotions in less than twenty-four hours to remain poised. "How many men were sent in pursuit of Jamie Lannister?"
"Forty, your Grace. And the King sent another forty as soon as he woke up." Olyvar said, squinting as if expecting her to latch out at him.
"Good. You may retire for the night."
Narcissa watched him walk away before entering the tent quietly, not wanting to wake up Robb if he was asleep. Instead, she found him lying in bed, talking with Talisa who was mixing some medication on the table.
"How are you?" Narcissa inquired immediately before turning to Talisa. "How is he?" She asked the nurse with urgency before Robb could even reply.
"The fever broke. The wound appears to be healing, but it will need to be watched and cleaned daily," Talisa explained before curtsying and leaving them alone.
"Where were you?" Robb asked quietly, trying to sit up straight before wincing at the pain in his shoulder. "You weren't here when I woke up."
"I went to negotiate the surrender of the Crag," Narcissa explained. She started removing her dirty clothes, afraid the grime on it might get his wound infected. "It's ours now!" She announced proudly before joining him on the bed. She had been so worried, she almost couldn't believe that he was truly doing better. Very carefully as not to touch his wound, Narcissa sat down on the bed before cozying up to him.
"You shouldn't have gone there alone!" Robb protested with more strength than Narcissa had believed him capable of in such a state. "That was reckless." He chastised while pulling her closer to him with his uninjured arm and kissing her cheek.
"I went with five thousand soldiers, not alone, Robb," Narcissa clarified but she could see in his face that he was still not convinced. "It needed to be done before they could send word to the Lannisters."
With her hand resting on his torso, she felt him take in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. His skin was still warm compared to hers but no longer abnormally so. "I was about to say that you should have sent someone else do it, but I was just betrayed by Theon and my own mother," he murmured coarsely, wariness evident in his tone. "It seems you are the only person I can trust now."
She heard the dejection in his voice then. In just a few days, he had been betrayed by his friend and most of all, by his own mother. Narcissa was furious with Catelyn and the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. Her mother-by-law had stopped speaking with her after finding out she had tried fleeing and now, she had done much worse by setting the Kingslayer free. "You can always trust me, you know that," Narcissa whispered softly before kissing his lips, not expecting to find herself captive in his arms.
Robb cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his Tully blue eyes which shone brightly in the dimness of their tent. The intensity of his stare was so fierce, she was about to avert her gaze when he finally spoke. "I love you, Narcissa." He whispered, the edges of his lips softly turning upwards in an hesitant smile.
Narcissa felt her cheeks burn beneath his palms and for the umpteenth time in the past couple of days, she found herself not knowing what to do. No one but her family had ever told her that. She was quite sure she was likeable to some extent, but nothing close to loveable. "No, you don't," she whispered back, trying to pry his hands away but he didn't let go of her. "It's the medicine talking."
"I do love you." Robb insisted with a frown before kissing her chapped lips and after a few seconds of hesitation, she kissed him back just as passionately.
I proofread this a couple of times but since I'm really tired, there are bound to be many mistakes. Sorry! It is likely that the next chapter will be rather long and we will reach Harrenhal, finally! I feel like this story is moving so slowly but I have to keep reminding myself that the war actually lasted way longer than what the show leads on…
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, good or bad! I am always curious to know your opinions.
And last but not least, I've been doing some research about ASOIAF and I was wondering: Do you think Robb has wolf blood?