A/N: Hey guys! Back with a full length chapter this time! I hope you all enjoy it, it seems like quite a while since we had a Robb POV!
unnamed visitor: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the confrontation. Cersei certainly thinks she loves Myrcella, but she definitely doesn't know what is best for her. Yes, she certainly hasn't given up on her plan, she's just revising it. I also agree with you on your thoughts on the end of season 6, I wouldn't be surprised at all if Jaime gains a new title. Thanks so much again, hope you enjoy the update!
Boramir: Thank you, and thank you again! Oh yes, Cersei is not going to be stopping with the plotting, just keeping it quiet. I think Cersei is jealous that she has been pushed to the sidelines. She is no longer the queen in the centre of attention, and no longer needed by her son.
Guest: Thank you!
Right-ho folks, on we go!
:)
XXVI: Planning and Promise
Robb
It had been worth the wait. Worth all the hours sat with his hand or his ear pressed against her stomach. It had happened in the dead of night. His wife had been peacefully sleeping, rolled over onto her back with her arms splayed all over the place. The bigger her stomach grew the more space she seemed to want to command in their bed. He didn't complain. He would allow her to do whatever she pleased. Whatever she needed for herself and the precious life nurturing within her. She must have glanced his head with her hand as she had rolled over, and he had huffed awake to see her still in the depths of sleep.
The irritation he had felt on initially being batted awake melted away as soon as he set eyes on her. She was ever so beautiful. It was the one thing that he had truly never been able to deny. Not even when she had first arrived and he had been so certain that a lifetime of misery would be laid out before him. That day in the gardens. The first time he had set eyes on her in a decade. No longer a child he barely took note of, but a woman grown. A beautiful woman. The most beautiful woman. Even then he was struck. It had angered him beyond comprehension. He hadn't wanted to find her beautiful, but he couldn't help himself. The attraction had only grown, and now he loved her with such a fierce intensity. It still took him aback sometimes, when he took a moment to think.
He had never imagined this future, but he was so glad it had manifested.
It was then, as he lay propped on one elbow, gazing down at his golden queen, that he slipped his free hand under the furs to her uncovered stomach. She had shifted slightly, doubtless his hand was a little cold compared to the delicious warmth beneath their covers. Her eyes remained closed though, her breathing even. He had let out the breath that he had held at her movement, keeping his hand pressed against her. It was a moment later that he almost jumped, his heart seeming to skip a beat in his chest. He had felt it, the baby, softly nudging against his palm.
A grin spread across his face as he remembered it, the missive he was supposed to be reading through forgotten in front of him. Myrcella had tried to explain to him dozens of times what it felt like when the baby moved within her. Of course, he had known it would be different for him, but nothing had prepared him for the overwhelming sense of wonder that had seeped through every part of him. It was real now. More real than when Myrcella had confirmed it to him. More real than when her stomach had started to thicken, or when she had first told him she thought she had felt the baby stir. His grin grew wider. It was so inexplicably real, and so very wonderful.
He shook his head slightly to clear it, blinking the missive back into focus. It took him a few moments to even remember what it was about. With a sigh he began reading from the beginning again. His progress was slower than usual as his mind continued to wander. Again he shook his head, catching Grey Wind watching him intently from where he was lay in front of the fire, his front paws folded neatly in front of him. He twitched his lips up for the great beast, and he seemed placated, slowly lowering his head to rest on his paws. After a moment his yellow eyes blinked closed, only to open again almost immediately as a soft knock came at the door.
"Come," Robb said, his fingers moving to find the handle of the dagger that was lying on the side of the desk. The door opened, and he slipped his hand away from the blade at once. She had seen though, her eyes widening slightly, though she made no comment.
"I got a letter," she said instead, before he could greet her.
"From who?" he asked, and she seemed to hesitate for a moment before she replied.
"Jaime," she finally said, meeting his eyes. His brows raised, and she took a few more steps into the room after closing the door behind her.
"What did it say?" Robb inquired, trying to keep his tone even. It was slightly stiff, though he had done his best.
"He believes he has managed to speak sense to my mother," his wife informed him, and he couldn't help but raise his brows. "He says that at first she was defiant, but that when he threatened to tell Tommen and my grandfather she backed down. The last thing she wants is to be banished to the Rock, and that is what he told her would happen should she continue with her madness."
"Do you believe she truly will stop?" he asked.
"Possibly, if she is truly afraid of Jaime's threat," Myrcella said, "though he has urged us to remain cautious. He has promised to keep his eye on her as often as possible, and perhaps even get Varys to have his spies keep a watch on her. You can read it, if you'd like?" she held out the letter to him, but he shook his head.
"No, I trust you," he said simply, and she retracted the letter, a little smile playing about her lips.
"Are you very busy?" she asked him.
"I ought to be," he replied, and her smile widened.
"I hope it is nothing troubling that is keeping you so distracted," she said.
"I suppose I ought to be troubled indeed," he returned her smile, "though since last night I find my mind elsewhere entirely."
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" she seemed to glow as she spoke the words, her hands coming to cradle her stomach, which was swathed as ever with thick furs. He smiled in response, taking a moment to really look at her. She was a different wonder when she was awake to when she was deep in sleep. Still entirely captivating, but ever so different. He noted the sparkle in her eyes and the soft expression on her face as she looked down towards her growing stomach. Her initial fear at being with child seemed to ebb away more every day. Robb knew it was likely to return as her time grew closer, but right now she seemed to radiate calm, and it in turn seemed to keep the fears of the worst from his own mind.
"Wonderful," he finally agreed with her, and she lifted her eyes to meet his, beaming at him.
"I ought to leave you," Myrcella said after another moment.
"I don't believe you can leave if you have not formally greeted me," he raised a brow and she giggled.
"Formally?" she raised a brow of her own, and he nodded, to which she dropped into a curtsey which was just as elegant as ever. He had not seen her do that in so long. It had a burst of laughter escaping his lips, and her own eyes were shining in amusement.
"Very funny, wife," he growled at her. "How about an informal greeting instead?"
"As you wish, your Grace," she said teasingly, before making her way carefully around his desk.
He pushed his chair back at her approach, patting his knee. She raised a brow again, but moved to perch on his lap, one of her arms snaking its way around his neck. Robb exhaled in satisfaction as her fingers began toying with the hair at the base of his neck. He raised his head, and she pressed herself closer to him before lowering her own. As their lips met he settled his hand on her thigh, and her hand clenched slightly more firmly in his curls. He kissed her harder, until he could barely supress a groan of desire. When he pulled back her breath was quick against his lips, and his own heart was hammering in his chest.
"I should leave you to work," she whispered breathlessly.
"You should," he agreed, "though you ought to give me a proper goodbye first," he continued, before pulling her, giggling, into another heated kiss.
Robb left his study several hours later, one of the guards informing him that Myrcella was in the library when he inquired as to whether they had seen her. He made his way in that direction, intending to collect her before having a private dinner in their chambers. It felt like too long since they had dined alone. His mother had been very insistent recently that they all dine in the hall. She claimed it was because she enjoyed having all the family together. Robb knew damn well that it was because she imagined it would be harder for anyone to poison him there with so many alert eyes about the place. Between her and Myrcella's watchful gazes he doubted anyone would have a chance to slip anything into his food or drink.
Still, he would defy his mother's wishes tonight. He wanted his wife all to himself, and since she had received word from the Kingslayer, he was feeling more relaxed. Never had he imagined that he would be feeling reassured by that animal. Still, he was grudgingly grateful. It was a weight off his mind to know that there was no assassin on their way to him. Whatever he had told everyone else, it had terrified him that he might not live to see his child born. He would still be cautious, he still did not fully trust that this was the end of the matter, but he did hope that he would be able to go about his days as he done since peacetime had come – without dread or fear.
He didn't really think it too much to ask after everything he had endured over the past years.
Robb ambled easily towards the library, Grey Wind at his side. He imagined his wolf would also be pleased at the news from the Capitol, it would mean he would be able to go out into the Wolfswood much more often again. Robb smiled slightly at the thought as he reached the door of the library. He pushed it open slowly and quietly, not wishing to disturb anyone's peace. After a moment he heard the low murmuring of voices, and set off down the aisles of shelves towards their direction. As he drew closer he recognised them as Bran and Myrcella.
It made him smile again. Myrcella had been worried that Bran would be angry with her after everything that had gone on with the Kingslayer. He hadn't, of course, in fact his concern had all been for her. His wife had been relieved, he had seen it etched clearly across her face.
"So, you believe that if you're right you could make something more effective than milk of the poppy?" Myrcella was asking almost disbelievingly as he moved closer.
"Possibly," Bran sounded cautious. "But if I were wrong, there is no telling what damage it could do."
"But if you were right, the benefits could be tremendous," Myrcella implored.
"But who would test it?" Bran questioned her, and Robb could practically sense her frowning.
"Have you spoken to the Maester about this?" she ignored his question.
"No," he answered.
"Don't you think you ought to? He might be able to add his own insight. Could be that together you can confirm or dismiss your theory," she was coaxing now.
"I don't know…" Bran said slowly.
"What is there to lose?" she asked.
"It could not just be brewed and given to people without the theory being tested. People would have to be given it, and if it does not work as I believe it would, then it could make them sick. It could even kill them. I can't live with that, Myrcella," Bran said seriously.
"But what if you're right?" she almost moaned in frustration, and Robb finally took the last steps towards where they were sat leant over several books and Bran's rolls of hand-written notes.
"It seems the pair of you are going in circles," Robb commented in an amused tone, and they both jumped slightly, turning their heads towards him. "Do you think you're right?" he asked Bran, holding his brother's eyes for a long moment.
"I cannot be certain," Bran said.
"But you think you're right?" Robb pressed him.
"I always think I'm right," Bran said almost exasperatedly, and Robb grinned, seeing a rather triumphant expression come to Myrcella's face. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't be wrong. Milk of the poppy has been more than adequate, and is very effective," he continued. "There is no point in risking people's health just to satisfy my own curiosity."
"This looks like more than curiosity," Robb said, leaning over to pick up a few sheets of his notes.
"He has been working on this for months," Myrcella told him as he scanned his brother's writing. Half of it made no sense to him, though it all looked very impressive.
"Myrcella…" Bran was half warning and half exasperated. Myrcella didn't appear deterred.
"You know what he's like, Robb," she continued on, "usually after a week of study he is on to the next thing. Always looking for something new. But this, this has been months and months, and he has done so much. Don't you think he should at least discuss it with the Maester? This could benefit so many people."
"It could," Robb agreed, laying Bran's papers back down on the desk.
"But, Robb, I could be wrong," Bran said quietly but insistently, meeting his eyes.
"You could," Robb also agreed with him. "But sometimes a little risk needs to be taken. Where would we be if Maesters of old had been too cautious?"
Bran didn't answer.
"At least speak to the Maester, Bran," Myrcella coaxed. "If he sees no merit in what you've done then I will never speak of it again, but you have to at least mention it."
"I agree," Robb said firmly, "this could be important, Bran. Best to know for sure."
"Fine," Bran sighed exasperatedly, and Myrcella looked delighted.
"Well, since we are all in agreement, perhaps we can venture to dinner together," Robb said.
"That's a wonderful idea, I'm starved," Myrcella said.
"Me too," Bran agreed, already wheeling his chair around to face the way out.
After his initial return after all the wars, Robb had wanted to aid Bran in any way he could. Even after the Maester and the smith had worked on making the wheeled chair for him, Robb had always moved to push him in it. Bran had been insistent on him not doing it, though. Robb had still had to check himself for so long. His hands would reach for the handles, before he stopped himself and pulled them back. Bran never said anything, but Robb knew he noticed. It had taken a long time, but eventually he had stopped reaching his hands out. He had accepted that his brother could manage it himself. That his brother wanted to manage it himself.
Robb was prouder of Bran than he had ever found the words to express. He just hoped his brother knew. In his place, Robb didn't know if he would have been able to cope. Without his legs… He shook his head slightly, it was not something he could even contemplate. He didn't have Bran's mind. Likely he would just go mad. Grow increasingly bitter and isolated. He almost shuddered.
"What are you thinking of? You seem a million miles away," Myrcella's voice, her hand slipping into the crook of his elbow, pulled him from his darker thoughts.
"A king thinks of a great many things," he told her, trying to keep his tone teasing.
She hummed suspiciously, but didn't question him further as they walked in step behind Bran towards the entrance hall.
"I had thought that we could dine alone tonight," he told his wife.
"Have you changed your mind?" she asked him knowingly.
"If you are happy to endure the hall, then so am I," he replied, and she smiled up at him.
"I am most happy," she told him, and he knew that she didn't just mean the dining arrangements.
"As am I," he responded. "Most happy."
Robb could sense Myrcella's nerves as the five women entered the nursery, all curtseying before them. He trained his eyes on each of them, looking for any hint that they would be unkind or unhelpful to his wife. If he caught a whisper of it, they would be dismissed at once. They were a matron, and four nurses, all here to aid her in her final moons of pregnancy, and to help look after the baby when it was born.
Robb knew that traditionally, royal children were left to be raised by nurses for the most part. He was, however, quietly hoping that he and Myrcella could break that tradition. He wanted it to be like it was for him growing up, not as it had been for his wife. The one thing he wanted more than anything was for his child, his children, to know that they were safe and loved. Loved by their parents, most of all. His eyes slid to Myrcella again, seeing how her hands were carefully cradling her stomach. Despite her initial fear he knew she loved the baby growing within her. He knew she would never be like her mother. Cold and unfeeling. It wasn't her nature. He couldn't have loved her if it were.
"Your Graces," the eldest woman, the matron, he assumed, greeted them.
"Welcome to Winterfell," Robb smiled, "I do hope your journey was not too perilous."
"Not at all," she answered, the four younger nurses standing meekly behind her with their heads bowed – further confirming to Robb that she was the woman in charge.
"May I present my queen, Myrcella," he slipped his hand down Myrcella's back and gently encouraged her forwards slightly. He hated her almost cowering a step behind him, her eyes uncertain. She would be best showing these women her true nature, they would warm to her at once if she did – he was certain of that.
"It is a pleasure, your Grace. My queen," the matron nodded to them each in turn. "May I ask when the child is expected to be born?"
She was trying. Robb dug his fingertips ever so slightly into Myrcella's back. He knew she was uncomfortable about this, but she had to try. She had tried with the running of Winterfell, and that had gone ever so well. He wished she had the belief that this could be the same.
"The Maester believes, from the swell of my belly, that it will be no more than three moons," Myrcella spoke up. Her tone quiet at first, but growing more confident as she continued.
"Then we have plenty time yet to prepare," the matron smiled, and Robb felt Myrcella relax.
"This is the nursery, though it is not quite ready yet," Robb spoke. "There are chambers adjoined, for yourself and two others," he continued, "and additional chambers further down the hallway for the others."
"You are most kind, and welcoming, your Grace," the matron said. "We were not expecting to be greeted by yourself and the queen until tomorrow."
"You have travelled far," Myrcella said. "And in worsening weather. It is the least we could do, to be here to greet you. After all, you will be an important part of our child's life, and that is most important to us."
"Of course, my queen," the matron inclined her head once more.
"Doubtless you are weary," Robb smiled. "A meal and some of the good wine will soon be brought to you, and the servants will be more than happy to show you to the additional chambers. I will leave the exact sleeping arrangements to be decided amongst yourselves. The queen and I will leave you now."
"I hope you all have a restful night," Myrcella also smiled.
"Thank you, your Graces," the matron and all the nurses curtseyed again, and Robb steered Myrcella from the room.
He rubbed his hand up and down her back as they set off down the hallway to their own chambers. She was quiet, and he wondered what she was thinking. He himself had thought the matron seemed nice enough, and the girls behind her were clearly obedient. She struck him as someone who would not take much in the way of nonsense. That could only be a good thing. He didn't want anyone incompetent or lax in charge of his child.
"What did you think?" he finally asked Myrcella when she remained silent.
"I'm not sure yet," his wife responded. "The matron seemed kindly, from what I could tell. I wish I could have heard something from the nurses."
"There is plenty of time yet before the baby comes," he soothed her, "you will have many a chance to speak with them, and get to know them."
"I wasn't expecting so many. Do we really need so many?" Myrcella asked him.
"It is expected with a royal child," Robb said, though he quietly agreed with her.
"I wonder what there will be for me to do, with all of them around me," she said, and it took him a moment to realise that her tone was almost sad. He stopped them in their tracks, circling until he stood in front of her, his hands coming to gently clasp her upper arms.
"You're the baby's mother," he told her. "You are the most important of all, and you can do as much or as little as you please. The matron and the nurses are yours to command, they are here to help you and do as you bid. Doubtless they will come in most handy whilst you're recovering. You know what the Maester said – that you will have to stay abed for at least a week."
"I know," she scowled, and he had to bite back a grin.
"If, after a time, you find that they are too many, then we can speak with the matron and see if a few of the nurses can be dismissed elsewhere, alright?" he raised a brow. "But for now, they are all here to stay, and it will be best for us all if we all find a way of getting along."
"I wasn't going to be awful," Myrcella frowned up at him.
"I know you weren't," he soothed. "Just remember how far they have come, how excited they must be to have been chosen to help care for a prince or princess." He moved his hand to settle on her stomach, and her irritated expression smoothed away.
"What do you imagine?" Myrcella asked him, her hand coming to rest on his, her thumb rubbing rhythmically against the back of his hand.
"Both," he told her honestly. It was true. He had imagined a son, in his image, or perhaps in his father's. Had imagined hoisting him up atop his first pony, the wide-eyed response of wonder and slight fear. Had imagined sparring with him with wooden swords. Even just imagined him tiny and new in Myrcella's arms, her eyes lighting up as she presented him the first time.
He had also imagined a daughter. Imagined cradling her, promising to protect her from all the evils of the world. He imagined her in Myrcella's image, how could he not? He could see her golden hair fanning out behind her as he chased her, giggling, down the hallways. It was ever so easy to imagine her older, sat in the window seat with Myrcella, their golden heads pressed almost together as they bent over their needlework.
"Robb?" Myrcella's soft, curious tone brought him from his imaginings. He blinked, smiled at her again. She smiled back, but her eyes were still full of curiosity.
"Where were you?" she asked him, and he slipped his hands round to rest on her hips, pulling her as close as he could.
"We will fill this castle with children, you and I," he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And I will love them all. Every single one of them, with all my heart. Boy or girl, I promise you."
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! More as soon as I can!
:)
