A/N: Just want to say a massive thank you again, I can't believe the response on this story. Two chapters in and already over a hundred followers. Thank you all so much! Hopefully you all have my replies to your reviews, if I missed anyone I'm very sorry!
unnamed visitor: Thank you very much, glad you're enjoying it so far! Definitely will not be love at first sight, I can see Robb appreciating her physical beauty, but at this point I think he's more concerned about her inner beauty. Glad you liked my take on Myrcella's POV, she certainly is overwhelmed, and with good reason. But yes, going North sooner will get her away from her mother. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.
Lang: You are very welcome dear reader, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Don't worry, they won't be meeting for a little while yet, and it most certainly will not be love at first sight. Hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long for this chapter! ;)
Guest: You're very welcome!
Boramir: Thank you! The wedding won't be right away when she arrives, so some time at least. As for the Starks and their reactions, let's just say that some will be far more positive than others. Well, with the walkers I don't think they could ever be fully destroyed, but perhaps driven back for another thousand and odd years?
Lisa: Thank you very much, more is right here, hope you enjoy!
Right-ho, on we go!
Just a quick extra note, italics = flashbacks
:)
II: A King's Torment
Robb
He stamped towards his tent as the light had grown too weak for them to continue on today. The men around him were grateful for the respite, already shouting about lighting fires and making food. Robb's own stomach snarled with hunger but he easily ignored it. He didn't much care if anyone brought him anything or not, he just wanted a cup of strong ale before he inevitably passed out on the makeshift bed. His mother would tell him he was pushing himself too hard. His mother wasn't here though, that was part of the reason that he was. The people were praising him and his kindness, they didn't have to know that he was here helping them gather the harvest for his own selfish reasons. He had started doing so around Winter Town at first, but that still meant retiring back to Winterfell at night, and being confronted with his mother's sympathetic gaze. It had been the same ever since the letter from the Capitol had come, and Robb had reached the end of his tether.
In the end Robb had snapped, announcing his intention to go to Moat Cailin, and then Barrowtown, and finally, Torrhen's Square, to help them gather the harvests. It was his duty as King to aid his people in such times; that is what he had told his mother anyway. She had seen right through him, and she had protested loudly in private. He had ignored her, and when it came time for him to leave she had had no choice but to wave him off with a smile along with the rest of them. Working all day out in the fields gave him something real to focus on, something which sitting behind his desk and perusing missives and signing documents could never give him. It allowed him to clear his mind entirely, whereas sitting in his father's study would always have memories creeping in and finding him when he least expected it. Some of them were suffocating. Some of them made him smile. Most of them were not even memories, just anticipation of what was to come when she arrived.
He wrenched the flap of his tent to the side and stamped in, moving to the basin in the corner. The water was freezing cold but it would serve him well enough. He splashed it over his face, which was no doubt covered in dirt again, before he turned his attention to scrubbing under his fingernails. Vaguely he wondered if he would ever manage to get them perfectly clean again. Almost as quickly he realised that he didn't care. A drink was his focus now, almost as he thought it a call came from the other side of the canvas. It was his new squire, Billy, and he deposited a plate of simple looking food and a large flagon of ale onto the table at Robb's instruction. In his mind Billy was still new to him, even though he had been his squire for near two years now. Olyvar had long since been knighted, and it had taken Robb years to even think of a replacement for him. His council had insisted in the end, it was proper, or so they told him. He gave in, choosing a boy from the town to take the position as his own form of rebellion.
"Thank you," Robb remembered his manners in time, and Billy looked delighted at the praise. He was still a young lad, not quite five and ten yet, but he was harmless enough and coming on well with the sword. Robb sat heavily in his chair and pulled the food towards him. It was the same every night. Cold meat with a slab of cheese and a roll of bread. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his hunger at bay until he fell asleep. He took a few bites, though it did little to indulge his taste, before he turned his attention to the flagon of ale. This was the time of night he hated, the time between finishing up in the fields and going to bed. He had tried on previous nights to occupy himself by spending time out with the men, drinking and playing card games. Even then his mind had wandered, wandered to things he would prefer not to think about.
Top of that list was his coming nuptials. If there had been one thing that he had hoped to avoid for as long as possible it was that. Now she was coming early, and so too would the wedding. He wondered if he would even be able to muster a smile for her, if he would not recoil away from the touch of her hand when they said their vows in the Godswood. Because they would say them. They had no choice in the matter. He forced down more of the food to try and shift his mind away from Myrcella Baratheon. He almost choked. That was a joke. The girl was pure Lannister, and he was dreading her more that he had dreaded facing the dragons all those years ago. He had been invited to recover his strength properly at the Capitol. He had declined. Being there meant seeing her, and he had known he would not be able to deal with it. Even now he wasn't sure he would deal with it. He laughed without humour. How was he supposed to take this girl into his home and into his bed if he was unsure if he would even be able to look at her?
More ale appeared to be the answer. He drank deeply from the flagon. His mother would likely have scolded him for not pouring it into a tankard. He shook his head, banging it back down against the table. His mother wasn't here. Thank the Gods. If she were he would be in for another lecture, another lecture about how he had to give Myrcella a chance. About how she were not to blame for what her brother and her uncle had done. She just had the misfortune to be born to Cersei Lannister, it was no more fault of hers than it had been Robb's that he were born a Stark. "My family is not made up of murderers and treasonous bastards." And so that particular lecture was ended. More and more would be sprung on him though, and the more his mother pushed him the more he dug in his heels. Somewhere deep inside he knew he was being unfair, and he knew that Myrcella was likely relishing this about as much as he was. He refused to care though, and every time he saw Bran sat out in the tiltyard watching the men mournfully his resolve strengthened that little bit more.
Robb drained the rest of the flagon before he stood up and pulled off the dirt smeared rag his tunic had become. Working out in the fields it was more than adequate to keep him warm, now he had stopped for the day and the night was coming in faster he found himself cold. His boots came next before he loosened the laces of his breeches and climbed beneath the mountain of furs on the bed. Likely Grey Wind would return sometime near dawn and wake him for the next day of the harvest. Robb closed his eyes and sighed heavily, allowing the combination of his exhaustion and the large flagon of strong ale to send him to sleep…
She ran her hands shakily over his chest, her breathing ragged against his skin as she moved to lay her head against him. His own hand found the small of her back, feeling her skin damp and slick beneath his touch. She turned her head, her lips coming to her chest, her tongue trailing up from his ribs in the next moment. "What are you doing?" he asked in breathless amusement.
"Tasting you," she replied, lifting her head up to look at him through lowered lashes.
"And what, pray tell, do I taste of?" he raised a brow and she smiled wickedly at him.
"Man," she said simply, and he reached his hand down lower until he could squeeze her bottom firmly.
"I suppose I can have no complaints about that," he smirked at her, and she bit down on her bottom lip, shaking her head slowly.
"No," she agreed, "no, I suppose you can't…"
She tailed off as he brought his other hand to the back of her neck, encouraging her to lean into him. Their lips met in the next moment and he laced his tongue with hers, twisting it in her mouth so he could taste her back. She pulled back too quickly, her eyes darkened with lust again and her breathing just a little bit too fast. "I ought to go," she said, regret evident in her tone.
"Stay," he said, knowing that she wouldn't from the half smile that twitched her lips.
"It will do neither of us any good if your mother catches me in the keep again, you know that," she told him seriously and he sighed heavily. He was a man grown, and a king to boot, and yet his mother could still make him feel like a naughty child.
"What my mother doesn't know, cannot hurt her," he said with a raised brow, but she pushed away from him anyway, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and rising up.
He watched her as she moved to gather up her clothing, his eyes roaming every inch of her bare skin. They lingered on her hips which were beautifully curved from the birth of two children. Her breasts were full and soft, and Gods he loved to have them in his hands. In his mouth. His perusal was interrupted as she pulled her shift over her head and he made a disgruntled noise. "Are you ever satisfied, your Grace?" she asked him teasingly, and he shook his head slowly, silently pleading with her to come back to his bed. "You know I can't stay," she said firmly, clearly having read his intent all too clearly.
"Will you come tomorrow?" he asked before he could stop himself, and she fixed him with a look for a long moment.
"This is happening too much," she said almost fearfully, "it cannot go on forever…sometimes I wonder if it would have been best if it never started."
Robb woke irritably, his eyes blinking awake to find Grey Wind had pushed his way passed the entrance flap. No doubt it had been him letting in a stream of cold air that had roused him. He narrowed his eyes at Grey Wind, but his wolf seemed unperturbed, merely coming closer and jumping up onto the bed. If Robb had the heart he would have shoved him off, he was far too big and had been for years. He didn't though, the extra warmth of his wolf would no doubt have him drifting back to sleep in no time. The bed creaked ominously as Grey Wind settled himself on the other side of him and Robb sighed heavily. "You shouldn't eat so much," he muttered to his wolf, who huffed loudly in response as he lay his head between his front paws and closed his eyes. Robb rolled his eyes and shifted a little beneath the furs to get into a more comfortable position.
He gave up after a moment, bringing his hands up to his face as he remembered his dream. His memory. Ada had not been the first woman he had taken to bed, but she had been his only long term lover. Sometimes he missed her at night, and he knew that that was selfish, knew that she was far better off now than she had been sharing his bed night after night. His mother had not been impressed, but Robb couldn't help himself, he had been drawn to her from the first moment he set eyes on her. At first he had told himself that it was because he pitied her, because he felt responsible for her widowed status and the fact that her young children would grow up without a father. He made excuses to spend time with her, drop by her home and make sure she had everything she needed as the winter set in. It was a year before they kissed, but after that they hadn't stopped. He was reckless with her, too reckless. It still chilled him that he could easily have planted a child in her. He hadn't. Thank the Gods.
If he closed his eyes he could still feel her soft, dark curls twisting around his hands. Could still inhale the musky, sweet scent of her. He could feel her in his mouth. Feel her nails pinching into his back as he took pleasure from her glorious body. He could hear her gasping, feel her trembling beneath him as she fell apart and cried out his name. He rubbed his hands across his face again. This was doing him no good, thinking of Ada and the time they had had together only served to remind him that it was now over. It had been for over a year, and his bed had remained cold despite the brief coming of summer. He tried not to think about who would next occupy his bed, doing that only made him think of tumbling golden locks and cold green eyes. They said Myrcella was as beautiful as her mother, more so even. That mattered not to Robb, not if she were of the same character as well. He despised Cersei Lannister, despised the fact that she had got away with everything. At least the Kingslayer had been punished for a time. At least Joffrey was dead. But her. He clenched his fists together and took a long, deep breath.
It was too much to ask the Myrcella not be like her mother. She had been betrothed to him for almost half her life. Half her life that her mother had no doubt spent dripping poison in her ear and making her as twisted and cold as she was. What hope did they have? What hope did their children have? This was not how he had always imagined being married. He had imagined being able to love his wife, to care for her at least. He had imagined that their children would see united and happy parents. That image had swiftly died in him the day Tywin Lannister named his terms. His mother was forever telling him to hope, to believe that he and Myrcella could have a happy future together. "You know nothing about her, Robb, you cannot just assume that she is a double of her mother." Perhaps she was right. Perhaps she was wrong. Either way, it did nothing to stop Robb imagining the worst. Grey Wind let out a snore at his side, pulling him from his increasingly irritable thoughts. He huffed in irritation and turned firmly away from his wolf, jamming his eyes closed determinedly…
He ran his fingers slowly up and down her spine as her own whispered patterns in the hair adorning his chest. She was quiet tonight, and he had seen the look in her eye when he had lain her down on the bed. It was almost as though she wanted to tell him something but had not thought up the words yet. He had considered stopping, asking her what was wrong, but she had wrapped her legs around his waist before he could muster the words and from then on he was lost. Now though he was thinking again, and thinking the worst. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach he somehow knew that this night with Ada would be his last. She was almost confirming it to him herself by the way she had stayed at his side rather than shifting away at once to redress herself. He swallowed hard, wondering if she would tell him, or if she would just leave and never come back. If he had the words he would ask her, but part of him was afraid of the answer.
"Thom has been visiting lately," she said quietly, her finger still moving against his skin.
"Thom?" he repeated questioningly, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"The baker," she elaborated. He knew now, the man had recently moved from one of the villages around Karhold. Winterfell had lost its own baker, Melvyn, during the winter, so Thom's arrival had been welcome indeed.
"Why?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer, but wanting to hear it from her own lips.
"He brought some gingerbread for the children the first time," she told him, "he had more excuses to drop by after that. Last week he fixed that gap in the window pane, and I asked him to stay for dinner…"
"I assume he did," Robb muttered irritably, his hand stilling against her back.
"He's a good man, and he knows a good trade. I have to consider my future, and the future of my children," she explained to him, and he closed his eyes. He knew she was right, and he knew that he could offer her nothing aside from the other side of his bed. Even that would not be his to share with her for much longer. He sighed, turning his head and pressing a kiss to her creased brow.
"I understand," he whispered against her skin, feeling her body relax and her brow smooth under his lips. She raised her head so she could look down on him, one of her hands coming to push his damp curls back from his brow.
"I don't regret coming to you," she murmured, "but you know it cannot go on any longer, not if Thom asks for my hand, which I am hopeful he will."
"I know," Robb agreed, though it was with a heavy heart. "Though, I do not know what I will do with my evenings now," he went on with a smile, determined to lighten the mood.
"I am sure there are many a woman who would gladly take my place," she said teasingly, her nails pinching lightly into his chest for a moment.
"I don't think I could have them," he confessed. "If I were any kind of man then I would never have had you."
"Why did you?" she asked him curiously, her eyes searching as she met his own.
"I wanted to help you, your husband was dead and you were facing the winter with two young children to look after. I wanted to try and make some of it right…but then, the more time I spent with you…" he trailed off, raising his brows slightly. "I suppose I couldn't help myself," he finally finished, and she smiled slightly.
"I never imagined being with anyone but my husband," she said, sadness shining in her eyes now that made guilt bubble up inside him.
"Ada -," he began.
"But I have told you before that I do not regret this, foolish as it was," she cut him off, a smile twitching her lips. "When Jon died I was left even more alone than when he left for war, I knew our boys would grow without a father, and that I would have to provide for them and try and keep them alive through the winter. Then you came, and you slowly became more of a man to me than a king, and in the end…" she hesitated, shaking her head slightly. "Well," she smiled, "in the end I suppose that I couldn't help myself either."
"What a pair we are," he said softly, twisting a loose lock of her hair around his fingers.
"I have a second chance with Thom," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"And I would never seek to take that from you. You have my word, Ada, what has happened between us will remain between us," he promised her, "and I wish you every happiness, you and your children." Her lips pressed together tightly at that, her eyes shining as she looked down on him.
"Thank you," she finally managed, her voice slightly choked.
"And you know where I am, if ever you should have need of me, if your family has need of me then you only need ask and I will do anything I can for you," he continued.
"Thank you," she said again, nodding her head in a rather determined manner. "You deserve to be happy, you know," she went on after a moment of silence. He smiled wryly at that, still twisting her hair between his fingers.
"You know who your queen will be," he said quietly, "so do not expect me to hold out much hope for a happy future."
Ada pulled away slightly at that, shifting herself so she was sat at his side looking down on him. "You cannot imagine the worst before you have even met her," she told him seriously and he snorted.
"Of course I can, I know where she comes from," he said, and her frown deepened.
"You cannot judge her on the sins of her family," she said almost incredulously, her eyes wide.
"Ada, how can I be expected to just forget that she is a Lannister? How can I expect her to forget that?" he asked her expectantly.
"You don't," she said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You just find a way to live with it, to see around it. Just because she came from Cersei Lannister, it does not mean she will have her nature. She could be the very opposite for all you know, and the only way you will ever find out is if you approach this marriage with an open mind. A clean slate. Do not make the mistake of thinking that you are the only one who suffered during the war. I cannot imagine it was easy for her when the dragons came, or when the dead awoke. She may not have fought, Robb, but it does not mean that she did not feel. The princess had no more choice in this match than you did, even less so really. You could have said no, do you think anyone ever asked her if she consented?"
Robb sighed heavily at her words, hating the guilt that they had twisting in his stomach. He didn't want to feel guilt over Myrcella, not now when he was in the midst of his last night with Ada. "You sound like my mother," he muttered and she raised her brows at him.
"Well, perhaps you might consider that we may both be right," she said irritably, and he sighed again, moving his hand to wrap lightly around her wrist.
"Let's not do this," he implored her, "come here, please. This is our last night together, can we not just forget about reality and lose ourselves until dawn?"
Robb woke again, the stirring of the men rousing him this time. He rubbed the sleep from his bleary eyes and jabbed his elbow into Grey Wind's side. His wolf growled softly in his sleep, but he did not open his eyes. He sighed, deciding to just leave him there, it was not like he could help gather the harvest anyway. Robb climbed out of bed, shivering in the cold morning air and hunting for his clothes at once. He pulled on his tunic, before forcing socks and boots onto his feet and tightening the laces on his breeches. Then he sought out his doublet and cloak, knowing he would likely discard them later when he worked up a sweat in the fields, but grateful for the extra warmth for the time being. When he had wrapped his cloak around him he pushed the canvas flap aside and stamped out into the camp. There was a frost dusting the ground again, and he looked up to see the sky slowly lightening as the sun rose from beneath the horizon.
At least a frost meant there would be no rain; that at least was something to be grateful for given the nature of their work. "Good morning, your Grace," one of the men beside the closest fire greeted him, and he inclined his head in response.
"Good morning," he returned, his voice slightly hoarse in the chill of the morning. It was nothing some hot wine and a good breakfast would not cure, and so he set off through camp, his eyes searching for Billy. He caught sight of him eventually, and his squire jumped to his feet as Robb called out his name.
"Breakfast will not be long, your Grace," the boy gabbled out at once, "and there is already some wine heated, if it please you, your Grace?"
"It would please me immensely, thank you, Billy," Robb replied, making sure he remembered to smile. It was not his young squire's fault that his mind was tormented with thoughts of his former lover and his upcoming marriage to a woman he didn't want. He remembered Ada's words from so long ago, now fresh in his mind after his dreams about her the night before. "You could have said no, do you think anyone ever asked her if she consented?" Those words had needled at him in a way that none of his mother's ever had. He closed his eyes. It was easy to think of Myrcella as an indulged and pampered princess. Ada's words though…they made him question that, and the result made his head ache whenever he dwelled on them. "Here you are, your Grace," Billy handing him a cup of hot wine pulled him from his troubled thoughts. He took it with thanks, remembering to smile again, as he determined that he would not think of Ada or Myrcella for the rest of the day.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed that, even if Robb is being rather depressing. Back with Myrcella next time, and we'll get to see some of the other Starks!
:)
