A/N: New chapter folks! I'm still amazed at the response I'm getting on this, people are getting so passionate about it, it's great. Thank you all!
Reader: I'm sorry! I can understand the frustration of waiting for updates, but I can promise once a week. Hope you enjoy this new one!
dhh: Thanks, glad you like the pairing. The slow pace is intentional, give the situation I don't think it would be realistic to rush right ahead. I wonder what exactly you meant by "get to the GOOD parts"? Without you being specific I can't really promise you whatever you construe as good parts, whether it be romance or drama or something else? As for jealous Robb, at this point he really has nothing to be jealous about so I can't promise that imminently.
unnamed visitor: Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yes, Sansa was rather bratty towards her father back then, but obviously her behaviour haunts her, even though I very much doubt that Ned would have held it against her. I think she's punished herself more than enough in the years after his death. I'm glad you liked the scene between her and Myrcella anyway. Yes, Robb and Myrcella certainly made some progress, and a clean slate has been agreed upon which is for the best. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.
Lang: Thank you! I couldn't really picture spats as such, given that Myrcella was determined to make such a good impression, and that Robb would likely have just carried on ignoring her as much as possible rather than having arguments with her, if you know what I mean. The development is friendship, the romance aspect is still to come, so much more progress still to make. Plus, even happy people can hit bumps in the road down the line. I agree that Myrcella is a feisty one, but at the same time there is a real vulnerability to her which sets her apart from her mother. As for ages, Myrcella is 17, and Robb is 24 at this point.
Boramir: Thank you! Never fear, he won't be getting into trouble for late night visits. Indeed, Sansa was, though she couldn't have known what would befall her father it is easy to see why she would carry such guilt with her. Glad you liked that scene between her and Myrcella anyway.
Guest: Thank you. Yeah, it's certainly not an easy prospect for Robb. Obviously the incest is going to play at the back of his mind, as well as her name. No, I'm afraid because of the changes to canon and Joffrey dying while still betrothed to Sansa, that there was never going to be a Sansa/Tyrion pairing. Hope you enjoy it anyway!
Guest: Yes indeed, Robb took some positive steps there, not just for Myrcella, but for himself I think.
Right-ho, after all that, here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy!
:)
VI: Starting Afresh
Robb
"Word from Master Hellman, at Torrhen's Square, your Grace," Maester Luwin reported to him as he sifted through the stack of papers in front of him.
"What word?" Robb inquired, reclining back in his chair lazily with his mind somewhere else entirely.
"There have been more looters at the winter supplies," the Maester told him and he sighed heavily, sitting himself up straight in his chair and giving Maester Luwin his full attention.
"Does he request my presence?" he asked, hoping that Master Hellman did not require him to ride back to Torrhen's Square merely a week after he had left in the first place.
"No, your Grace," Maester Luwin told him, "but he does beg your Grace for more coin to recruit more men to the town watch."
"Can we spare the coin?" Robb moved his eyes to Beron, the steward.
"We could spare a little, your Grace," he confirmed, "perhaps enough to cover four more additions to the watch. We could spare more, but with winter on its way again I would advise against it." Robb sighed heavily, nodding his agreement.
"Very well," Robb drummed his fingertips on the table top for a moment. "I suppose we have little choice besides riding to Torrhen's Square ourselves. Write back to Master Hellman please, Maester Luwin, tell him he has leave to recruit four more men to the watch," he decided, "and if the troubles persist then he must not hesitate to inform us."
"Very good, your Grace," Maester Luwin replied, making a note on a sheet of parchment in front of him.
"What of our own stores?" Robb inquired, looking again to Beron and seeing him shuffle around his own stack of papers before he cleared his throat to answer.
"The main grain store is a little over half full, your Grace," Beron reported, "fish stocks from White Harbour and Flint's Finger are as normal, though there has been a decrease along the Stony Shore."
"Should I be worried?" Robb asked, and Beron studied his papers for a moment before answering.
"I don't believe so, your Grace," he said, "though, if I may, I would advise that you lower the amount they are expected to export each month, that way the people there will not be at a disadvantage." Robb nodded, his agreement.
"Yes, of course," he voiced, "is there anything else I ought to be informed of?" Again, Beron sifted through his papers, his head shaking from side to side slightly as he read down his lists.
"No, your Grace," he said, "there is the lack of certain fruits and vegetables but it is to be expected and cannot be helped. It should not affect the keep, there is a plentiful harvest ready in the glass gardens."
"Indeed," Robb agreed vaguely, glancing towards Maester Luwin and hoping that he too had no more news for the day.
"There was also word from the Wall, your Grace," the Maester told him, and he raised his brows expectantly. "Nothing serious," he assured him, "just a few issues with the wildlings on the Gift, a few still seem to be having trouble adjusting to our laws." Robb sighed heavily at that and ran his hand through his hair. "The Lord Commander assured it has been dealt with, he just thought you ought to know," Maester Luwin finished, and Robb nodded his head.
"Good," he said after a moment, "I will write to Jon myself and thank him, you do not need to trouble yourself further with this matter." Maester Luwin inclined his head in response, thanking him. "Can I assume there is nothing else?" he raised a brow, looking between the Maester and the steward, both of whom shook their heads slightly.
"Nothing I can think of, your Grace," Maester Luwin said with a small smile that Robb returned.
"Nothing of immediate concern, your Grace," Beron assured him and he let out a long breath of relief, satisfied.
"Then I think I can call an end to this council gentlemen, thank you as ever for your loyal council," Robb smiled again, pushing away from the table and rising to his feet.
"It is our pleasure, your Grace," Beron said, and Maester Luwin nodded and hummed his agreement.
"Until next time," Robb said with a raised brow, straightening his doublet as he made his way out of the council chambers.
Once he had closed the door behind him he set off down the hallway, intent on doing enjoyable with his day. As he rounded the corner his footsteps faltered slightly as he saw Myrcella leaving the library, book in hand. He made his way towards her before he could stop himself, determined now to build on the fresh start they had agreed upon the night before when he had seen a side to her that he had assumed would not exist. "Princess," he hailed her as she made to walk in the opposite direction, quickening his pace slightly as she turned to face him.
"Your Grace," she dipped into an elegant curtsey for him and he smiled slightly.
"You ought to stop doing that," he advised her in an amused tone, "I have not been curtseyed before as much in the past eight years as I have in the past few days."
"Forgive me," she said, a small smile on her own face as she straightened up gracefully.
"There is no need, just don't do it again," he mock scolded her and her smile widened.
"I will do my best," she said, her tone slightly teasing, "but I cannot promise anything. We southerners are taught our courtesies well."
"Are you saying we northerners are not courteous?" he asked in a similar tone, raising his brows.
"Well," she looked him up and down, an amused smirk on her face. "I suppose you are courteous enough considering you are all wild savages." He couldn't help but laugh at that, seeing her responding smile light up her eyes at his reaction.
"You surprise me," he chuckled, "I did not think that those in the south were renowned for their humour."
"Who said I was joking?" she cocked her head to one side, and he shook his head at her, still chuckling slightly.
"Did you have any plans for your afternoon, princess?" Robb inquired, deciding to change the subject.
"I had thought to take this to my chambers," she held up the book in her hand, "and then I had thought to perhaps take a walk around Winterfell and reacquaint myself with the sights."
"Then perhaps I could escort you," Robb suggested, "and then I could show you around myself, how better to see the sights than a personal tour from the King?" She smiled widely at that, biting down gently on her lower lip as he offered his arm to her.
"So long as I am not keeping you from anything, your Grace," she said, hesitating slightly before she lay her hand on his forearm.
"Not at all," he said easily, turning to lead her down the hallway. "I have already attended council today, and I had my mind set on enjoying my afternoon," Robb told her, glancing down to see a faint blush had risen up on her cheeks.
"Well, I am honoured," she said in response, and he smiled slightly as they emerged into the entrance hall and made for the stairs. They didn't speak on the journey to her chambers, but Robb found the silence easy. He had no desire to fill it with inane chat and he could only assume she felt the same way because she made no attempt at conversation as they walked. Finally they came to her door and she slipped her hand away from his arm. "I will not be a moment, your Grace," she said with a smile, pushing open the door.
"You ought to get your cloak, there is a stiff wind blowing," he advised her as she disappeared into the room.
"Thank you," she said, reappearing in the next moment, draping her cloak around her and nimbly closing the fastenings.
"It's nothing," he returned, offering his arm again. This time she didn't hesitate to take it, and they set off again in perfect step with one another. "How much do you remember of Winterfell?" Robb asked her curiously once they had descended the stairs and made their way out into the courtyard.
"Some parts better than others," she answered, "I remember the warmth most of all, inside I mean." He chuckled at that, deciding to lead her around the periphery of the yard to keep them sheltered from the worst of the wind.
"Is it not warm at the Capitol?" he inquired as they ambled slowly around, keeping close to the walls.
"In temperature, very much," she replied, smiling wryly.
"I see," he said lightly, deciding not to sour their conversation by bringing up her family.
"It was hard to relax," Myrcella said after a moment, "unless I was with Tommen, it was difficult to be myself."
"I imagine he is greatly changed from when I last saw him," Robb mused, drifting unconsciously down the alleyway that led to the tiltyard.
"The tiltyard is down here, isn't it?" Myrcella asked, looking up at him for confirmation.
"It is indeed," he nodded, "though I am surprised you remember that, I did not realise you spent much time there."
"Do you remember when Tommen and Bran sparred against one another?" she asked him, and he nodded, a regretful smile playing about his lips.
"Aye," he confirmed, nodding his head slightly.
"All that padding Tommen had to wear, he was twice the size he usually was," Myrcella went on, a tiny smile gracing her own lips. "Bran bested him easily," she said, and he wasn't sure he was imagining the sadness in her voice. He wondered if she, like he, was remembering how spirited and full of life Bran had been before his accident. It had been so long now and his brother had come to make peace with his condition. The time when he had just woken still haunted Robb though, and he still heard the words in his head as though they were uttered yesterday. "I'd rather be dead."
"Everything was easy until it wasn't anymore," Myrcella said quietly, and he nodded his head, swallowing hard.
"Looking back…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "this is where it all went wrong." His eyes drifted towards the old tower, seeing the top of it rising up behind the armoury.
"So many things went wrong," she said, following his line of sight and tightening her grip on his arm ever so slightly.
"And here we are," Robb said softly, smiling slightly wryly. "Making it right."
"Do you really think that?" she asked him curiously, and he turned his head so he could look down on her.
"The Gods only know what would have happened if your grandfather and I had not signed that treaty," he shook his head, "enough of my men died as it was, it will take many years for the North and the Riverlands to recover their full strength. The south too, I imagine," he inclined his head to her and she nodded her agreement. "I have to believe the treaty saved something," Robb continued, "I have to believe that it did more good than harm."
"You got your sisters back," Myrcella reminded him quietly, and he nodded his head in agreement.
"Yes I did," he agreed, "and I got you." She was quiet for a moment, and he glanced down at her again, seeing her biting gently on her bottom lip.
"And do I come under good, or harm?" she asked, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled wryly at her, deciding to be honest.
"I was always certain it would be the latter," he admitted, "now though…well, now I am not so sure." Her lips twitched up on one side at that before her attention was caught elsewhere. He followed her line of sight, seeing that Arya had emerged from the armoury. She had her sword on her hip and her arms folded as she stood on the step, the look in her eyes almost murderous as she looked towards him and Myrcella. "Well, I think you know the way to the tiltyard," Robb said pointedly, "why don't we go somewhere else?"
"As you wish, your Grace," she replied, and he waited for her to place her hand back on his arm before setting off back down the alleyway. The wind seemed to have picked up even more, swirling Myrcella's hair around her face as they emerged back into the courtyard.
"Have you been to the glass gardens?" he asked her, thinking she might appreciate going somewhere more sheltered.
"No," she replied, and he led her in that direction at once.
"I will show you around them," he said, "likely we will both welcome the relief from this wind."
"Will it snow soon?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly.
"The first snows are already falling north of here," he replied, "and there is always snow at the Wall. I expect we will get some light dustings soon enough, though it will be a while yet before it really begins to settle." Myrcella nodded at that, a rather thoughtful expression on her face. Robb wondered what she was thinking, but before he could ask she was speaking again.
"The Lady Arya isn't impressed at my arrival, is she?" she asked him, and he couldn't help but grimace slightly.
"You noticed," he said, not seeing any point in denying it.
"A simpleton would notice," Myrcella responded, and he snorted slightly.
"Arya is…stubborn," he struggled to find the right word, "like me perhaps, only far worse. She will get used to you being here eventually, I can assure you of that."
"Perhaps when we have been married five years?" Myrcella suggested wryly and he chuckled.
"Perhaps," he agreed with her, "though perhaps ten years would be a safer wager." It was Myrcella's turn to laugh at that. A real hearty and warm laugh. Oddly, Robb hadn't expected it to sound that way. Perhaps because he had always assumed her a double of her mother, and there was never a time when he could imagine Cersei Lannister laughing. Not warmly, at any rate. "Here we are," Robb said as they rounded into the corner of the grounds where the glass gardens stood.
"They are heated like the keep?" Myrcella inquired, and he nodded in confirmation. "But made of glass to allow what little sunlight there is to aid growth?" she continued, and he nodded again.
"You seem well educated in our winter survival," Robb noted as they approached the door to the glass gardens.
"I have a vested interest," she responded and he smiled, pulling open the door and gesturing for her to enter before him.
"True enough," he agreed with her, following her inside and closing the door firmly behind them.
"Gods, it is even warmer than I expected in here," she commented, moving her hands up to undo the clasps of her cloak.
"Here, let me," Robb held his hand out to take her discarded garment.
"Thank you, your Grace," she said as he took it and draped it over his arm.
"You're welcome," he smiled for her, realising that it came easier now each time that he did it. She smiled back before she turned away from him to begin ambling along one of the rows, stopping every now and again to examine one of the plants.
"Is this only for the keep?" she finally asked him, and he nodded his head before elaborating his answer.
"Seeds are sewn at different times, so the produce will be ripe at different times. There is usually a little too much of something or other, that is sent down to the market in Winter Town. Though, the last winter was so hard that we gave whatever we didn't absolutely need away," Robb explained to her, and she nodded slowly.
"It must have been difficult, not being on the coast," she commented, and he smiled slightly.
"Indeed, having a settlement by the sea can be of great benefit in winter. Our only trade can come by road, and when the snows fall thickest it is impossible to get anywhere," he said, "that is why we Starks have had to come up with our own methods of survival."
"Well, you appear to be doing a marvellous job so far," she said in a slightly teasing tone. Robb chuckled, and she smiled back at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before she moved to the end of the row and found the rough cut stone bench that lay there. She sat herself down and arranged her skirts, Robb watching for a moment before he hesitantly moved towards her. Vaguely he wondered if there would ever come a time when they would do things with one another without hesitating. It had been Myrcella before, uncertain of taking his arm, and now it was him, unsure whether or not he should sit himself at her side. He shook his head and moved even closer, draping her cloak over the back of the bench before he straightened his doublet. He slowly sat himself next to her, ensuring that his leg didn't brush against hers as he did so, his eyes finding her hands delicately folded in her lap. Suddenly he was very aware of his own hands, and wondering what to do with them. She spoke up before he could ponder it too much.
"Did you mean what you said the other day?" she asked him, her voice quiet and almost fearful. He frowned slightly, wondering which conversation she was referring to.
"I don't -," he started, but she seemed to sense his confusion, elaborating on her initial question before he could go on.
"What you said about our children. Do you really think you wouldn't be able to love them?" she asked, just as quietly. He sighed heavily, afraid to turn his head to the side so he could look at her.
"Perhaps," he said, hearing her sharp intake of breath. "But not because of you," he continued, "not…not only because of you. I said what I did out of anger and spite, but the fear inside me is real. It is just not all your doing, as I said it was."
"What then?" Myrcella asked him softly, and he took a deep breath.
"For over three years I fought in wars. Battle after battle. I came up against men, dragons, even the dead. Countless lives have been lost at my sword. I have killed so many. I have watched so many die," he cut off, shaking his head. Myrcella said nothing, clearly sensing that he had not finished. "In the end I felt nothing," he went on, "in the end it became normal. It was nothing, the way it would feel to sink a sword into a man. Dying screams. How it sounded when a man choked on his own blood. It was nothing. It washed over me like water. When it first started I felt it when I ended someone's life. I felt something, remorse perhaps?" he shrugged. "I don't know exactly, but it was something. I had compassion, it would keep me awake at night and torment me. Did those men have wives, children? Someone waiting for them at home, someone who would miss them? I don't know when I stopped caring, but I did."
"I don't believe that," Myrcella said quietly after a long moment of silence, and he turned his head to contemplate her. "That you don't care," she elaborated as their eyes met. "You started a war all those years ago because you care. You signed that treaty with my grandfather because you care more for your men and your people than you do for your own happiness. In the end…you fought death itself. Those things you battled were not real, not anymore. Perhaps you stopped caring then because there was nothing left in them to care about. Death to them, real, final death was a mercy. A relief. You sent them back to the Gods they were stolen from and allowed their souls to rest easy again. I will never believe that you don't care, not when I can see what your family means to you. What your people mean to you."
"You really believe that, don't you?" he smiled slightly wryly at her and she blinked slowly, her eyes huge on his.
"How can I not?" she shrugged her shoulder. "If the Gods bless us with children I have no doubt that you will love them," she kept her eyes on his, "I know you would have preferred them to have a different mother, but they may well be the best of us both. And no matter what, they will be Starks, they will be yours just as much as they are mine. I know what you think of the Lannister blood, and I know that will not change but…but our children will be your family, and I know how much you love your family."
"I should never have blamed you for how I feel inside," Robb told her honestly, and she smiled slightly.
"Neither can you deny that I am part of the problem," she said, arching one of her brows.
"You are far less of a problem than I imagined you to be," he replied and she laughed lightly.
"That is high praise indeed, your Grace," she said and he could feel a slight blush on his cheeks.
"I didn't mean it to sound like that," he said awkwardly, "forgive me, princess. I am no southern knight, I do not have a pretty way with words."
"I would rather hear honest words from you than pretty false ones," Myrcella said, "do not worry about offending me, your Grace. I have lived at the Capitol all my life, you do not survive there unless you learn not to be affected by something as simple as words." Robb smiled slightly at that, considering her for a long moment.
"Some words can cut more deeply than the sharpest sword. I shouldn't have spoken the way I did the other day, I confess I only uttered them because I was angry with myself. Angry because you were nothing like my imagination told me you would be, and for some inexplicable reason I wanted you to be," he confessed to her, feeling a weight lifted from him as the words left his mouth.
"A monster, you mean?" she arched that brow again and he nodded.
"Aye," he confirmed.
"I thought you would despise me, I was well prepared for it," Myrcella said lightly, and he smiled wryly.
"I thought I would despise you too," he didn't see the point in lying to her about it. "And yet here I find myself sat with you, enjoying your company," he continued, smiling at her.
"It's almost as though we're friends," she smiled back at him.
"Perhaps that would be a good place to start," he said, and she nodded her head slowly.
"A very good place," she agreed with him. Hesitantly Robb reached out for her hand, and she slowly moved her own to place in his. He wrapped his fingers over so they covered the back of her hand, and she did the same, her soft fingertips whispering against his skin.
"Since we are friends, I think you ought to stop addressing me so formally," he smiled and she returned it, nodding her head slightly.
Without thinking he squeezed her hand a little more tightly, realising that he liked the feel of her skin on his. It was soft and warm and delicate, everything that he had tried to convince himself that she would never be. When he had imagined her he had always imagined her mother. Poised and cold and unfeeling. Myrcella was poised, that he could not deny, but she was also warm, and from what he had observed and heard from her so far, she was far from unfeeling. Guilt nagged at his stomach, and he wished he could be a little braver and explain everything to her properly. Somehow he knew that she wouldn't judge him for his feelings. She seemed to understand everything far better than he had any right to expect her to. Her expectations had been as low as his own, and yet now they were sat contentedly a mere inch apart with their hands clasped in one another's. It was hardly burning, unyielding passion, but it was a start. A far better start than Robb had ever anticipated.
Friendship. What better way to start than establishing that? He could get to know her better, ask her questions, and he would encourage her to do the same to him. Tentatively he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his eyes seeking out hers as he did so. "I am sorry that I misjudged you, Myrcella," he said sincerely. It wasn't all that he wanted to say, but it would have to do for now. She seemed to understand, her eyes soft on his as she smiled slightly.
"You're forgiven, Robb."
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that, we certainly have a much more contented Robb on our hands now, which is great for him and Myrcella!
More next weekend!
:)
