Here it is (finally)!
Warning: Disturbing themes including depression.
Even now, Narcissa still remembered the funerals as if she were going through them again. Robb had still been bedridden then and she had given all the speeches on her own, feeling alone even in the midst of the soldiers. Brynden was there, so were Lorenzo and Arya but it didn't help her loneliness. And truly, how stupid her idea had been to hold them all on the same day.
First, Maege Mormont's in the morning and Narcissa witnessed her daughter, Dacey, cry for the first time. Narcissa didn't allow herself to cry; somehow that didn't seem appropriate for a queen. Then, Catelyn and Edmure's in the afternoon. Arya had asked to be the one setting her mother's funeral boat on fire with a flaming arrow and she hadn't seen a reason why not. Brynden and Arya hit their target on their first try, and Narcissa watched the boats float down the Green Fork. They would certainly have preferred a proper funeral in Riverrun but their corpses would decay before the people had enough strength to travel.
She endured it all with what her brother called 'natural Medici poise'. Narcissa chuckled drily but didn't correct him. It wasn't poise, it was a paralyzing sadness but she was queen and poise did have a better ring to it.
The worse, for her, were the funeral pyres in the evening and Clive's concomitant burial. He had told her once that he'd rather be buried then set on fire and she thought that, at the very least, she owed him that much. Lorenzo and Brynden dug his grave at her request. She wanted to help but both refused, stating that her condition didn't allow such an exertion. If she had to pinpoint a moment when she started losing her queenly poise, it was then.
Narcissa said a few words in the King's name and then was left to watch the bodies go up in flames and Clive's be lowered into the ground, making a mental note to send financial compensation to his family. No money in the world could make up for the loss of a person, but it was as close as they came to it as mortals. The recent events had made sure to remind her once more just how mortal everyone truly was. One second – not even that – that was all it took.
The fires burnt for hours and most soldiers left when the sky became too dark and the air too cold, until the smoke burned their eyes. So did everyone else. Lorenzo simply wrapped his cloak over hers and headed inside at last, simply making her promise not to stay out all night. He knew her well enough to know pushing her was useless and she was thankful for that.
It was only once everyone had left that Narcissa allowed herself to say goodbye to the one person who hadn't gotten their funeral yet. She eyed the keep behind her, almost afraid Robb would see her through the windows but she knew Arya would have gone straight to him.
Knowing no one would be able to see her in the darkness, that she didn't have to keep up her queenly façade, Narcissa finally allowed herself to fall on her knees and sob. She had been holding it off since the previous night when she got back to the bedroom after locking herself in Walder's office for hours. Robb had been waiting for her, a large smile on his face and she wondered how he could be smiling after everything that had happened. In fact, he was so jubilant , he didn't notice the strong smell of alcohol on her or if he did, he didn't comment. And then he told her the healers had come to him after her examination.
Narcissa forced a smile upon her face as he shared the news with her, trying to match his glee. She was good at lying, as he had reminded her once so long ago, and he was worn out by the medication, and they fell asleep next to each other. She was actually impressed by how she had been capable to keep herself from crying in his presence, but maybe guilt did that to someone.
But now, she was alone and she let herself grieve for the daughter she had lost. Of course, they didn't know if it had been a girl at all. It hadn't been "expelled" from her body, as Leonardo had so unsensitively put it but he was a Florentine and that was not surprising. Yet, in her heart, she knew it was a girl.
She cried for the little girl she would never hold in her arms and who would never know her parents. "You only realize the importance of something after you lose it," Narcissa whispered to herself and the common saying had never rung more true in her ears. She hadn't been particularly excited at the news of her pregnancy, but now there was nothing she wanted more than be a mother to this little girl. To the little Amara. Robb would have been the most doting of fathers to their baby daughter, there was no doubt about that and she would have done her best to be a decent mother. Instead, she cried for a baby girl who would never get to feel her parents' love.
Narcissa had carried a knife inside her cloak all day since breaking fast, grabbing it from the table without anyone noticing. She finally took out and eyed the silverware. It wasn't exactly the sharpest of blades, but it was far from blunt and she wasn't wearing an armor anymore. It would pierce through her skin and flesh as if it were butter on a hot day.
She lifted her gown until it revealed her thigh which shone white under the moon light. She palped her leg, searching for that blood vessel she had learned about many years ago in a book. It was easier to cut through your leg than through your own throat she figured and lowered the knife until the blade rested on her skin.
"I am sorry I couldn't save you," she whispered, looking up at the moon. "Please forgive me." Narcissa waited for a reply, something to let her know that her daughter was willing to forgive but there were no stars, let alone a shooting star or something symbolic. There were only heavy clouds and just as she was about to look down again, rain started falling from the skies. Not just a few droplets, but the heaviest of rains. Narcissa smiled for a second at the irony of it as she became drenched within instants, fabric clinging to her body and raindrops sliding down her skin.
She tried sliding the knife across her skin but it slid off her wet hands. Panicking, she picked it up from the ground again but it kept slipping off her fingers and a different guilt took over.
Robb would never forgive her, he had told her only hours before how he needed her and how he couldn't bear to lose her. And Narcissa couldn't bear to lose her daughter, but she didn't say that out loud and instead promised him she would never leave him. What kind of person was she if broke her promise to the only man she had ever loved? A selfish one, without doubt, willing to inflict him pain just so she didn't have to live through hers. He would never forgive her treason, especially not under the circumstances.
-/-/-/-
"How far south has the security perimeter been extended?" Narcissa asked her brother as they walked around the keep. She was desperate to leave this place as soon as possible but many men were still recuperating and for the time being, it had to be their center of operations.
"According to Brynden's letter, they've just arrived at Raventree Hall," Lorenzo replied.
She took a moment to picture the map of Westeros in her mind and then nodded curtly. Progress perhaps wasn't as fast as she had hoped for, but at least it was constant. "Any incidents?"
Lorenzo gulped and looked away for a second before resuming their fast pace but it didn't go unnoticed by his sister and the cock of her eyebrow let him know she expected an answer. "There was a family whose loyalty might be questionable," he muttered, as if hoping she wouldn't hear him.
"I presume this was dealt with?" Narcissa asked matter-of-factly, not that focused on the conversation anymore, and instead going over all the tasks she still had to complete before dinner. Her main priority, however, was to check up on Robb. She hadn't seen him since morning.
"It has." Her brother assented but he had hesitated too long.
"How long until I can hold their heads in my hands?" She inquired, stopping in her tracks to make him face her but she already knew the answer. "For you sake, brother, I hope their heads are no longer attached to their bodies," she said, trying to remain calm.
"It was just an old couple and their daughter. Apparently, their son moved to the Crownlands a few years back and is now part of the Lannister army," Lorenzo explained, his heavy brows casting a shadow over his green eyes. "They were reminded of their loyalty to the Lord of Riverrun and issued a warning. There is nothing to worry about."
Narcissa eyed him closely, waiting for the moment where he'd tell her it was all a joke but it never came. "No, Lorenzo, there is little to worry about. Once, they're dead however, there will be nothing to worry about so I ask you go to your chambers and write to Lord Tully."
"They're not our enemy. The Lannisters are," he reminded her, as if she needed the reminder.
"And we can only defeat our enemies if we manage to keep our survival a secret until we are ready to attack."
"So, your plan is to behead everyone who might pose a risk?" Lorenzo asked incredulously and yet she didn't flinch. That was exactly what she intended to do. "Do you know how you sound right now, sister? No? Well, let me tell you-"
His voice rose until he was actually yelling at her. Narcissa couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to her like that. Somehow, she managed to earn the soldiers' respect and they now followed her orders without a question. Robb never raised his voice at her, even when they disagreed. But this was Lorenzo, her older brother and manners had never been his strong suit.
"-losing your head. If you execute everyone of whose loyalty you can't be entirely certain, you won't have anyone to rule over!"
Her palm collided with his cheek before she had even registered giving her arm an order to move. And yet, her hand now hung midair, the palm still tingling and her brother's cheek was a furious red. Lorenzo was staring at her more with shock than actual pain.
"I'm not making the same mistake Lord Eddard Stark made. It takes one word – one single word – and they're at our doors. I will not let that happen." Narcissa said slowly, making sure to speak out each syllable. "You're the new Lord of the Crossing. If you cannot find it in yourself to follow my orders, then by all means, throw me out."
"I would never – " Lorenzo was quick to protest, as if the very idea repulsed him.
"I'll see you at supper then." Narcissa concluded before walking away, leaving him stranded in one of the secondary corridors.
Over the past few weeks, she had learnt her way around the keep as if it had always been her home. Mostly, this came in handy when avoiding people and this was pretty much all she did now – avoiding people. Her temper had become quick to rise recently and the only way to keep it under control was to be alone.
She took one last turn, and then she saw him, clad only in breeches and a haphazardly tied shirt. Robb hadn't seen her yet, too focused on Frederico's words and Narcissa took a few steps back, hiding behind the wall so he wouldn't immediately notice her presence.
"Is the pain tolerable? Do you feel steady, your Grace?" Frederico asked Robb, notepad in hand, leaning against the stone wall.
Narcissa watched Robb take a few steps, his hand firmly gripping the cane. A grimace appeared on his face and she had to force herself to stay put and not intervene. His pain hurt her more than any of hers ever had, but the healer insisted it was important he practice every day. She wanted to tell Frederico it was too early, but time was a luxury they did not have. Still, it made her stomach clench whenever she saw his thigh. Robb always joked about it, saying she should dump him already, claiming she deserved more than invalid with an ugly scar. Narcissa would then playfully hit his shoulder, tell him he should not joke about such things and that it didn't bother her.
That was a lie, of course. She could not care less about his scar – he already had so many of them, it was part of him really and he was a warrior after all. Besides, she was pretty certain she'd love him no matter how he looked. What bothered her was that each time she looked at it, her mind would unfailingly drift to Walder Frey, Roose Bolton and the Lannisters. Another reminder of how close she had been to lose everything.
"It's there but I can tolerate it," Robb replied through gritted teeth. "And the cane is the right size." He added, taking another step just to confirm his assertion.
Frederico wrote something more on his notepad as he nodded. "Maybe we should try the stairs."
The stairs? On his own?Narcissa thought with panic, before jolting forward and revealing her presence. Just as she did, the grimace disappeared from Robb's face and a small smile graced his lips instead. He was so intent on hiding his pain from her, and yet she did not know why. It's not like she would think any less of him - dozens of arrows had pierced through him, after all. It was a miracle he was even alive. Still, it made her feel like there was now a distance between them. Why couldn't he confide in her? Not just about the physical pain, but also the whole treason and of losing his mother. Narcissa wasn't the warmest of people but they were beyond that, weren't they? She had cried all over his body for Gods' sake!
"I think that's enough for today, Frederico," Narcissa chirped cheerfully, waltzing in. "I believe Leonardo wanted to discuss something with you before dinner." A lie, another one to add to the collection.
Frederico turned to Robb again, silently asking if he could retire. "You may leave. Enjoy your evening," Robb said, kindly as ever.
Narcissa watched the healer leave before walking over to her husband, wrapping her arm tightly around his free arm, inviting him to put some weight on her but he didn't. He never did. "We should get changed for dinner," she spoke softly, focusing on her feet, trying to keep his face.
"I thought that maybe we could supper alone in our chambers tonight. Arya wants to eat with the Hound," Robb suggested a little hesitantly. "That is if you want to, of course."
She looked up, surprised by his hesitation, only to notice he was already gazing down at her. Narcissa tried to find something different in his face but it looked like it had always done– dashing blue eyes, strong jaw, bouncy brown curls and soft pink lips. When she looked at him like this, when the scars were hidden beneath his clothes and the cane was out of her sight, it was like nothing had even happened. There was no lingering evidence, nothing alluding to the massacre they had lived through. As if it hadn't even happened. It made her wonder if her face, too, still looked like the same or rather, if she was still the same.
"I would like that very much."
They walked inside their chambers only to notice a servant had already readied the room for the night; pulled back the covers on the bed and started a small fire in the hearth. Narcissa kept the door open until a maid walked by so she could ask to have dinner served in their chambers, and then went to sit at her dressing table. She didn't know what to do, she couldn't remember the last time she had retired this early. It gave her too much time to think and once her favorite pastime, she now found herself avoiding it.
For the lack of a better thing to do, Narcissa grabbed her hairbrush and started gliding it through her hair. Thanks to the mirror, she could see Robb's side as he stared out of the open window. He wasn't even frowning, he actually looked serene. For the past month, she had waited for the moment where he'd – she wasn't even sure. Maybe yell? Or throw things around? But it never came, and as the weeks passed, she doubted it ever would.
How did he manage to act like nothing had happened? At first, she was impressed by his composure but that turned to anger at some point. Why could he move on and she couldn't? Was she really so much weaker than him, she couldn't help but wonder.
"Here, let me help you."
Despite its softness, Narcissa was still startled by his voice. Robb was standing right behind her, his face impassible and his hand outstretched. Slowly, she handed him the brush and he started combing it through her hair much more delicately than she ever bothered to.
They were standing so close, she was able to smell him. It was the same musky scent that never left his pillow, the one she fell asleep to every night and woke up to every morning since their marriage. The scent that meant home to her, no matter where, not matter what – even her falling apart.
"Do you think I should shave it?"
Once again, she was startled and it took her a few moments to notice what he meant when she saw him look at himself in the mirror. It was true, his beard had grown a little longer since – Narcissa realized that was the only thing in his face that had changed and suddenly she was scared he would remove the last piece of evidence that something had happened.
Instinctively, she reached behind herself, bringing the back of her hand to his cheek and he leaned forward until their heads were almost touching. His beard was surprisingly comforting, the hairs neither too soft, nor too rough. "No, I like it like this," she whispered.
He smiled at her words before kissing the crown of her head and then going back to brushing her hair even though there were no knots left.
"I received a letter from Lord Baelish today." Narcissa announced before realizing that maybe it wasn't the best moment but Robb nudged her to continue. "He has agreed to the terms. Before long, the bastard king will be dead and you will be reunited with Sansa." This time, she was the one who smiled but Robb seemed lost in thought.
"What makes you think he isn't playing us?" Robb couldn't help but ask, even though he was afraid to see her smile disappear again. It was a rare sight recently and one he cherished all the more deeply.
Instead, her smile was replaced with a knowing smirk and she took the brush from his hand before shifting on the stool so she was facing him, even if even she had to look up. "From what I've heard of him, it seems he and I share the same school of thought. If anyone can fool him, it's me," she said confidently, her smile genuine again.
"And what do you want to do with him once he shows up?" Robb inquired, humoring her. He hadn't been happy that she had gone behind his back, sending the letter without asking him first but she had appeared so proud of her idea, he hadn't found it in himself to argue with her. Besides, it was worth a try, maybe.
Narcissa's brows furrowed at his question, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Kill him, of course. Perhaps Sansa will want to do the honors, herself," she chuckled merrily, standing up as she heard a knock on the door and a couple of servants came in with their supper.
Robb stood still for a moment, his heart chattering at her words. When had his wife become so comfortable with the idea of killing? He remembered her reaction when he Karstark executed, how distressed she had been then. And yet, now Brynden told him how she asked him to execute Walder Frey barely a few hours after the massacre had ended, how she didn't even flinch when blood splashed her face. Soldiers had told him how, in the beginning, she would start her days by talking a walk through the courtyard, taking in the 'wonderful' view of traitors' heads on spikes. Once, Robb asked to have his squire brought up, hoping it would feel less awkward to have Olyvar help him get dressed than a complete stranger but he was informed Narcissa had had him executed as well.
"Come on, we should eat before it gets cold," she urged him to the table, wrapping her arm around him.
They ate in relative silence. Narcissa had stopped eating much now that she wasn't allowed to even have a glass of wine with her meals. Yet somehow, they had managed to find her berries and grapes. They weren't nearly as tasty as those from Riverrun, but she did keep snacking on them throughout her day.
"There was something I wanted to tell you before but it slipped my mind." Robb said after he took the last bite of his meal and washed it down with water. He had stopped the wine and ale too, out of sympathy for her. It was their child after all, he ought to share the burden where he could.
"Go on, then," she encouraged him as they looked at each other.
He couldn't help but to notice how much her face had changed in the past month. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and he knew she wasn't sleeping well. He had tried talking to her about it, but whenever he turned to face her in their bed at night, knowing by the shallowness of her breaths that she was still awake, she would pretend to be asleep and he didn't have the heart to tell her he could see through her lie. The eyes themselves too, were different – usually so full of mischief, it now seemed there was no spirit left in them. But what had struck him first were the hollowed cheeks. Robb could remember how Catelyn's face would become rounder when she had been with child. It wasn't just the stomach which swelled but the whole body would look more plump. Looking at his wife, he noticed Narcissa had never looked skinnier and the round belly seemed so out of place compared to her small frame.
"Starting tomorrow, I will be taking on my duties again."
"Oh." The smallest of sounds escaped her lips as she stared in surprise, and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. "You know you can't both rule and drink milk of the poppy, right? It messes with your head," she attempted a joke but there was no amusement in her voice. In truth, his words had just frightened her. What would she do with the extra free time?
"I haven't had any in the past couple of days. I don't I need it anymore," Robb informed, attempting a smile but she was blankly staring at the wall behind him.
So, this was it, she concluded almost angrily, forcing her eyes wide open to keep herself from crying. It was now truly behind them as if it had never happened. Even the physical pain was gone. What would it become now? Some well-healed scars and a vague memory of it? Something you thought about once a year on its anniversary and which slipped your mind on all other days? Maybe for him that was already the case but Narcissa could still taste the tears on her tongue and feel his blood on her hands at night. If she closed her eyes and concentrated enough, she could even feel Black Walder stabbing her again.
"Are you alright?" He asked, leaning forward, concern now written across his face.
She was about to apologize and say she had just gotten lost in her thoughts when she felt something funny in her belly and instinctively brought her hand to it, resting it over the spot when she felt it again.
"Are you in pain?" Robb asked once more, now right next to her, crouching over his wife. "Do you want me to call the healers?" He insisted, slowly feeling panic taking over him when she silently grabbed his hand and placed in on her belly where hers had been moments before and then he felt it too.
"Is it-?" Robb stuttered, not removing his hand as he looked down at her in awe. "Is that the baby?"
Narcissa nodded energetically, resting her hand next to his in the hopes it would happen again. "It's the first time he has kicked me," she admitted in an excited whisper before abruptly standing up and heading to the mirror, pulling up her skirts over her waist. In the blink of an eye, the lump appeared and vanished again. "Did you see that?" Narcissa laughed with delight, spinning on herself to show him her naked belly.
Yes, Robb had seen it. He had heard it too; her laugh – his favorite sound in the whole world. He was certain he could recognize it among a million others. It was short and sudden, elegant without being high-pitched and its mere happening made him smile. "I love you, Narcissa," he said truthfully, eyeing her with amusement.
"I love you too," she smiled before sauntering back to him with such force, she pushed him against the table. And then she took Robb by surprise, kissing him like they hadn't since the thing– not just a quick peck on the lips but a real, passionate kiss and he immediately responded to it, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him.
Narcissa felt euphoric. After being miserable for the past few weeks, this small moment of joy was so intense, she felt like she was almost drowning in it. Suddenly, there was so much happiness she didn't know what to do much with it. She felt like screaming, and dancing, and running, and singing all at once. Instead, she glided her hands inside his shirt, running her fingers over his skin, pretending the scars weren't there. The three of them were alright, maybe he was right and that was all that mattered.
Emboldened by the sudden emotion, Narcissa slid her hand inside his loosely laced breeches only to find his body was already starting to respond. She began stroking him slowly, not breaking off their kiss as the movements of his tongue became less coordinated. And then, without a warning, he stopped her, pulling his lips away from hers and instead leaning his forehead against her own. "What are you doing," he breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly and willing his arousal to go down.
Narcissa felt cold all of sudden, his rejection hitting her like ice and effectively putting a sharp end her sudden euphoria. "I saw you pleasuring yourself the other day and I thought, I thought-", she whispered with quivering lips, stumbling over her words. "I thought you'd want me to-"
"Gods, Narcissa, of course I want you," Robb muttered, clasping her hands in his and bringing them to his lips so he could kiss the delicate knuckles. "I always want you but you know what the healers said about that." He hadn't touched her in over a month because of the partially detached placenta and it was that much harder to control himself when she started touching him out of nowhere.
"You're right, I'm sorry," she sniffed, looking away to avoid him seeing her like that. "I was being stupid, I'm sorry."
Noticing she was about to walk away, Robb wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, her back against his chest, marveling once again about how perfectly they just fit together. "Don't say that. You're not stupid, never, Narcissa," he murmured softly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "We cannot do that, but there are other ways I can pleasure you, can help you take the edge off," he whispered huskily in her ear.
Robb hadn't been quite sure how she would respond to that, but he certainly hadn't expected her to forcefully push him off her. "Take the edge off what, Robb?" Narcissa hissed angrily, reaching for a wine goblet on the table which wasn't there.
"Nothing," he said quickly, frowning. "I just thought you would enjoy it if I…" Robb didn't know how to finish that, not when she suddenly looked as if she wanted to rip someone – him – apart.
"Take the edge off what?" Narcissa repeated, this time drawling out each syllable as she dug her fingers into the wooden bed posts. Perhaps she was being ridiculous but she wanted him to say the words. Was this perhaps the reason he was coping so well; that he was still so much in denial, he still hadn't realized what they had lost?
Robb tried approaching her but she backed up until her back was flush against the wall. He tried to decipher her expression but there were too many contradictory emotions, she looked angry, scared and desperate all at once. He raised his hands in defeat, slowly backing off.
"You've been under a lot of stress lately, taking over my duties and everything on top of the pregnancy. You haven't been sleeping well either," he said calmly, afraid that a change in tone might infuriate her or bring her to tears, he wasn't sure which option was more likely. "I've talked with Frederico, he could give you something to help you feel better, maybe sleep more soundly," Robb offered tentatively, gauging her reaction but it seemed all the emotions disappeared off her face at once and it was just blank.
"Medication is for sick people. I am not sick. Ergo, I do not need medication," Narcissa spoke monotonously, staring down at her feet. "I am getting better."
"I am not saying that you're sick, Narcissa. Just that maybe it could help," Robb pleaded but she slowly shook her head, still not looking at him.
"You cannot change the facts, Robb," she said before taking a deep breath. "Medication is for sick people, no matter you say. It's a fact, facts cannot be changed therefore there is no point in debating over them." And then her voice weakened to nothing but a whisper as she started mumbling unintelligibly to herself. "What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there's no point in dwelling on it." She repeated it again, trying to convince herself of it as she walked past him to the door.
She heard his footsteps behind her, following her to the door despite the limp. "I am going out for fresh air, please do not follow me," she whispered before turning the handle and exiting into the corridor, repeating her new mantra.
What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there's no point in dwelling on it. What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there's no point in dwelling on it. What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there's no point in dwelling on it.
Everyone noticed it, but no one spoke of it. Not after Lorenzo had come to dinner with the shape of a hand imprinted on his cheek. That was something the highborn learnt early – when to speak and when to keep their mouth shut.
Narcissa herself perhaps realized it too when she had her hair cut again so it didn't go past her shoulders and was left to stare at her own eyes for ages while the maid worked with the scissors behind her. Or maybe she saw it in the faces of the people around her. But if she did, she took no notice of it.
Robb was the one who saw it first, but he was also the first one to threaten anyone who dared comment on it. After everything they had gone through – she had gone through – he wouldn't tolerate anyone reproaching her. Not even him, not even when he watched her silently combing her short hair in the mirror the following evening, and the others which followed, and saw it himself.
-/-/-/-
Narcissa watched as Arya trained with Brynden as she made her way down the stairs into the courtyard. It wasn't a fair fight by any standards: He was more than twice her size, more than twice her age and more than twice as experienced. But life wasn't fair and the sooner you realized it, the stronger you became. Narcissa couldn't help thinking she had been a slow learner, maybe her childhood had been too kind.
Arya struggled to defend herself from her uncle's attacks, mostly unsuccessfully. The girl's skin was no doubt as colorful as a rainbow beneath the clothes. The Blackfish had her disarmed in no time with a chuckle as Arya tried to free herself from his grasp. Narcissa wondered why the girl didn't simply grab the flowerpot next to her and smash it on his head, but perhaps that wasn't how sword fights worked and it wasn't her place to ask.
"The council is waiting for you, Lord Tully." Narcissa finally spoke, catching their attention as the Blackfish set his niece free.
He grunted but followed her inside the keep without complaints. Rare were those nowadays who dared complain. They were lucky enough to be alive after all, at least that was what everyone said. Narcissa wasn't all that sure about that, but she was a highborn and she knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut.
She slowly opened the double doors, revealing the new council room. "My ladies, my lords," she said, announcing her presence without looking at any of their faces.
Brynden followed her in and took the first empty seat. Narcissa circled the table before taking a seat next to Robb at the head of it. Despite the cane balanced against his chair, he still made a move to help her sit down but she refused, as she always did. Others had offered too, in the past, but she always refused and eventually they stopped offering. It was getting more difficult to sit down and stand up on her own now, but hell would freeze over before she admitted it. Just like hell would freeze over before Robb admitted the pain which shot through his leg every day for the past months when he forced himself to move despite the injury.
Robb officially declared the council in session and the discussions immediately started. Narcissa did her best to listen to everyone's opinion, but most of the time, she couldn't find it in herself to care. Dacey Mormont, who had taken over Maege's place, was thirsty for revenge. So, was Lorenzo. Neither of them cared how, they just wanted the Lannisters to pay the price. Maybe they would make a good couple, Narcissa snorted, before realizing how terrible their children would turn out to be.
Obara and Nymeria wanted a real battle. The longer Narcissa stared at girls, the more she cursed their father for sending them in his stead a month ago but he was to attend Joffrey Baratheon's wedding. The girls were bickering children even though they were adults, strictly speaking, and Narcissa wondered how Oberyn could trust them enough to represent his interests.
Brynden and Robb were more into strategy. Thinking of the best way to attack. It was when they spoke that Narcissa actually made an effort to listen, but most of the time it was only gibberish to her ears and she couldn't make sense of it. She couldn't make sense of many things these days, her brain no longer working the way it used to.
"And what do you think, sister?" Lorenzo asked when she had all but counted every ridge on the wooden table.
It took her great effort to raise her head to look at him even though it was a small movement. He was looking at expectantly, just like the others, and Narcissa sighed in annoyance. She would have taken a large sip of wine if she were allowed to, but it seemed that somehow, the Lannisters had managed to take that away from her as well.
"Lord Baelish is most likely having Joffrey Baratheon poisoned at his own wedding as we speak," Narcissa said for what felt like the umpteenth time. "As for the others, I don't care how, I just want them dead."
Internally, she was smirking but it didn't show on her face. She had taken it upon herself to have Walder Frey executed in the way she found most fitting and yet it hadn't brought her any pleasure, no satisfaction. For all she cared, Tywin could choke on a grape and Cersei fall down the stairs. As long as they died.
"Just because you can't find any pleasure in anything anymore, doesn't mean we should be deprived of our revenge," Obara shouted, hitting her fist on the table. Ah yes, Narcissa had almost forgotten, the girl's aunt had been killed on Lannister orders ages ago.
"I will not tolerate you speaking to my wife like this again. You have been warned, Lady Sand," Robb groaned loudly next to her, drawing everyone to the backs of their chairs.
"No, please, your Grace," Narcissa objected sweetly, too sweetly as she eyed the Dornish woman. "If Lady Sand has any complaints about me, I'd be most delighted to hear them."
She felt Robb's stare on her as she spoke. He was frowning, he always frowned when he looked at her after that night. Narcissa had told him numerous times not to worry about her, but he always did and the frown never left.
"Gladly," Obara retorted and Narcissa automatically reached for a glass of wine that didn't exist. Maybe her brain wasn't as efficient because of the lack of wine, who knows? She let her hand fall on the table before tilting her head to listen to Obara's complaints. "You sit at this table, claiming you want the Lannisters dead but really you are no better than them!"
"Really, Lady Sand?" Narcissa asked with a smirk. It was the most emotion she had felt in weeks. "No better, are you truly sure of that?"
"You had every last Frey executed, innocent little girls and little boys included. Servants too. You sit at this table claiming you want Cersei Lannister dead but you really are no better than her when she had her husband's bastards murdered!"
Ah, there it was, Narcissa deadpanned. Someone had finally said it. It didn't surprise her that it had come from Obara. Lorenzo hadn't gone that far, she had struck his cheek before he could finish but he had insinuated it all the same. "Treating servants like that is not fitting of a Medici, nor of a Stark I believe," were part of his exact words. And the rest were too polite to say anything, or they might perhaps just be cutting her some slack.
Next to her, Robb once again made a move to stand up and put the Dornish bastard back in her place but she grabbed his hand on the table, and he froze under her touch. They hadn't touched in weeks.
"I ask you this once again; do you really think I'm no better than Cersei Lannister?" Narcissa repeated, cocking her head, enjoying the confusion on Obara's face, on everyone's face around the table for that matter. She exhaled slowly with disappointment when no one dared answer her question. Were they all wary of her now?
"Cersei let Gendry Waters slip through her fingers when she had the bastards executed. I have every last Frey accounted for. You'll have to admit that makes a little better than her, doesn't it?"
Narcissa watched with mild excitement as Obara stood up in a blur and jumped on the table, ready to attack her like the Sand Snake she was. Narcissa didn't move in her chair, if anything she leaned back and closed her eyes, anticipating the blow that would put her out of her misery. At least, like this, it wouldn't be her fault. But it never came and Narcissa opened her eyes to watch Obara being dragged out of the room by a couple of guards.
"This council session is officially over." Robb stated with a sharp nod and people started filling out. Narcissa struggled to get back on her feet, tightly gripping the armrests to pull herself up but Robb's hand on her forearms stopped her movements and all but burnt her skin through the fabric. She had been aware of the coldness of her limbs recently but not of the extent of it, until now.
They stayed like that for what felt like ages but was in reality nothing more than minutes. Narcissa closed her eyes, sighing and Robb rubbed his temples. She was already bracing herself for what was to come.
"I need to know that you're alright, Narcissa," he sighed, sliding his hand down her arm to her own hand. She tried pulling away but he had already entwined their fingers. "I can get the healers to give you something to help you sleep at night and to make you more serene during the day," he offered kindly but she used the momentary distraction to free herself from his grasp and stand up.
Pain shot through her swollen stomach as soon as she was back on her feet and she might have regretted her decision to stand up had she not been so stubborn. The pain occurred whenever she failed to follow the healers' recommendation of no brusque movements. Noticing her grimace, Robb immediately rushed forward to help in any way he could but she swatted his hands away and tried to ignore the hurt on his face.
"I refuse to be medicated and sedated," Narcissa groaned, grabbing tightly at the table's edge until the pain passed. "I've told you that already."
"You also told me you'd get better and it's been almost six weeks, Narcissa." Robb groaned, slowly losing his patience and she couldn't really blame him for that. She had truly been like this for months now. Robb inhaled and exhaled slowly. "That night, when I shared the healers' findings with you, I expected you'd be ecstatic."
Narcissa could remember that night only too well, when she stumbled into the bedroom drunk after locking herself up in Walder's office for hours, writing the first of many letters to Petyr Baelish. She had noticed his smile as soon as she entered the room and it didn't even falter when he saw how drunk she was.
"You were carrying twins," he explained. "The healers are confident the blow didn't affect the other babe beyond slightly detaching the placenta." Robb was still smiling but she didn't find it in herself to match his joy. "We're going to have a baby, Cissa."
"How could I be ecstatic, Robb?" She blurted out without intending to. "How?!" Narcissa looked away from him, she didn't want him to see her tears. "You told me we were still going to be parents, but all I could hear was how I had lost one of our babies! You told me we were going to have a baby, but all I could hear was how I was carrying a corpse next to that baby!"
She wasn't quite sure when her shouts had turned into cries, and yet, she was certain that it was in that exact moment that she was enveloped in his arms, her face against his chest. He must have been in pain, his thigh still hadn't healed properly but he never complained as she cried into his doublet.
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Robb murmured, sliding his fingers through her hair and kissing the crown of head. He couldn't believe he had spent months without really knowing what was going on with his wife.
To him, finding out that she was still pregnant was beyond anything he could have even hoped for. Given the circumstances, he would have been happy enough is there was a possibility she could get pregnant again in the future. He had never thought about it the way she had.
"Why would I?" She sniffed. "You had lost your mother and your men, and yet, you were smiling. I didn't want to ruin whatever shred of happiness with my inability to count my blessings."
"My happiness depends on your happiness, Narcissa." He stated firmly. She really hoped that wasn't true, she didn't want him to be a miserable as her. He deserved to be happy. If anyone deserved it, it was him.
She wanted to tell him that when suddenly, there was a knock on the closed door and she pulled away from him to wipe away her tears before telling the intruder to come in.
"A ship docked in the port of Seagard," the soldier informed them and Narcissa immediately started panicking. How could they have gone unnoticed? "A red priestess and man calling himself the 'Onion Knight' want to discuss terms of peace in Stannis Baratheon's name."
So, this is the chapter that took so long to write. I hope you aren't disappointed!
I have read through all your input and will most certainly keep your suggestions in mind when writing out this story! Thank you for your support :)
Long, boring A/N haha: No matter how strong Narcissa is, I believe anyone would struggle in her position. As someone who wasn't brought up to be an emotional person, she's unable to deal with a non-tangible loss that no one seems to understand, not even Robb who managed to focus on the positive aspect of things. At the Red Wedding, when he lost conscience, he really believed that everything was over so the mere fact that they survived exceeds what he could have hoped for and he got even more than that – Arya is back, Grey Wind is alive and they're still having a baby.
So, this is Narcissa trying to pull herself through the different stages of grief in the only way she knows how; by forcing her feelings to fit into what she considers a rational mindset.
Anyway… Next chapter we will have Ser Davos and Melisandre come into play, and an attempt at tripartite negotiations.