Chapter Five: Dead Hearts
A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed and favourited! If you haven't already, please check out the Game of Thrones Christmas Awards 2012. I've also made a trailer for this story, which you can find on my Youtube channel. There's a link to my channel on my profile. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Mella wouldn't exactly say it had been a hectic day, however she was relieved to sink in a bath of hot water and let the warmth ease any knots of tension. She gave a contented sigh, sliding down into the water until she was neck-deep in the tub. Alyss kneeled beside her, rubbing lavender oil through her hair. Livia was across the room, smoothing out Mella's nightdress. By inspecting the grimy brown the bath had turned, there had been more dirt in Mella's hair from the day's ride than she had expected.
"Did you have a pleasant time, my lady?" Alyss asked. Unlike Livia, she had picked up on Mella's chagrin at having to be left behind while the rest of her family would be returning to King's Landing. Despite her often air-headed illusions, Alyss was rather perceptive when she wanted to be, Mella had noticed. She poured warm water over the princess's hair, washing out the lavender oils.
"It was nice enough," Mella replied cryptically, deliberately eluding the question as much as she could.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Mella had had to contend with Joffrey upon her return. Her younger brother had been boasting about the fact that he was going hunting with their father and the others on the morrow. When Mella had expressed nothing but disinterest, Joffrey's comments had grown rather snide. He had said that at least their parents didn't try and exclude him as they did Mella. That had stung like a physical blow, yet she hadn't let it show. That was always how it had been; hiding behind the facade that everything was alright.
"What do you plan to do on the morrow when the men are all hunting?" Livia asked from the other side of the room.
The answer to that question was one that Mella herself didn't know. Of course, the men were out hunting while the women stayed behind and needed to occupy themselves. Perhaps she should take a turn around the castle with Sansa again.
"Perhaps I should visit with Sansa."
Livia nodded approvingly. "A wise idea, my lady. I don't doubt that she has become quite fond of you. The two of you got along rather well, and she is betrothed to your brother."
Mella examined her reflection, exhaling deeply as she traced a slim finger over the pendant that Alyss had clipped around her neck. Livia would be returning to Winterfell upon the departure of the royal party in a month's time, but Alyss and several other unmarried ladies would remain with Mella in Winterfell. Perhaps they would even find happiness and marriages of their own, but for the princess, the future looked bleak. All she wanted was to go home.
A sharp knock on her door withdrew Mella from her ruminations and sent Alyss scurrying over to open it. When Mella turned, she noticed that it was Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard. He bowed deeply to her, but of course when Mella searched his face for some kind of expression, she could find none.
"My lady. Apologies for disturbing you, but your father wishes to speak with you."
Her father...?
They were back from the hunt already? Apprehension tightened Mella's insides, for she was certain that something was wrong. She hoped that no one had been injured on the hunt...except perhaps Joffrey. Her brother had been absolutely insufferable about the whole thing so he would well deserve it. Pushing such unkind thoughts aside, Mella turned to Alyss and Livia.
"Ladies, come."
Mella descended the stairs into the hall, and her heart started to pound in her chest as she noticed that a vast majority of the royal entourage waited there. She clutched at her red skirts with anxious hands. If most of the court was present, then there was definitely something wrong. Across the far side, Robert sat beside Cersei, both wearing grim expressions on their faces.
Mella took a deep breath. She never felt that she had crossed so much distance in her life with all eyes on her, and she wondered why she was suddenly so nervous. She had walked through court before with her head held high – and she would do so now. No matter what happened, she would carry herself with the utmost dignity, just as she had been taught since she was a little girl. Yet still, the urge to run to her parents was one she had to shake off.
Mella strode across the hall, very much aware of the deathly silence. Usually, there were whispers if the matter was about the person present, so she was much relieved that whatever the matter was, it had nothing to do with her personally. It seemed to take an age before she stood before her father and her mother.
"Father, what has happened?" Mella inquired, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. "Why is everyone so grim? Is someone hurt?"
"Ned's little boy," Robert confessed grimly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "Bran. He was climbing up a tower and he fell. They don't know yet if he is going to wake up or not."
"What?" Mella didn't think she'd ever heard of something so terrible. She had spent enough time in Winterfell now to get to know the Stark siblings. But now, staying as a ward, she would be an awkward extra in a family torn apart by grief. She said a silent prayer to the Seven that they would spare Bran's life.
"Your father thought it would be a wise idea to go and see the boy," Cersei informed her daughter, in a tone that made it clear that the idea had not been hers. For the first time since she had arrived, Mella noticed that Jaime was standing at his twin sister's side. Cersei and Jaime exchanged a brief glance, and for reasons not quite clear to Mella yet, she suddenly found that she felt incredibly sick.
"You mean now, Father?" Mella inquired, almost choking out the words, suddenly desperate to leave the hall and all the eyes that seemed fixated on her.
Robert nodded, and Mella took her leave and walked out of the hall, fleeing with as much as grace as she possessed. Only once she was outside, away from all the prying and inquisitive eyes, did Mella lean against the wall and press her hands over her mouth. They said Bran had fallen, yet she had seen the dark looks her mother had exchanged with her uncle. Everyone else might be oblivious, but Mella had always been perceptive. She knew people. She knew something very wrong and she suddenly felt ill with it.
Circles within circles, plots within plots. Why would her family have any reason to harm Bran? Was that even what those troubled glances were about? Mella wanted to find out, but at the same time, she feared that the truth might shock her even more than the web of lies irritated her.
Mella knocked tentatively on the door of Bran's room, glancing in to see that she was far from being the boy's sole visitor. Robb sat at his brother's bedside in complete silence, holding one of Bran's hands in his own. Mella felt embarrassed at being an intruder on this clearly private display, but Robb had already turned around to face her. He looked devastated and his eyes were red-rimmed.
"I'm so sorry." Mella took a step back. "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll come back some other time..."
"No, come in," Robb insisted, his voice hoarse, "It might do me good to have some company."
Mella tentatively crossed the room and glanced down at Bran Stark. He seemed so small, huddled under the blankets the way he was, and so very pale. She swallowed hard and folded her arms over her chest, because she remembered that Bran was the same age as Tommen. What if it had been her little brother who had fallen? The thought was too unbearable, but Mella could suddenly understand Robb's pain. She crossed over and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I am so sorry that this happened to your brother," she said softly, wondering if he could even hear her words at all. "He was a sweet boy and he never deserved anything like this."
To Mella's utter astonishment, Robb buried his face in his hands and started to cry quietly. She stared at him, feeling completely lost. She wasn't sure when the last time she had seen a man cry was, or if she ever had. Certainly her father had never cried. Although she was not sure what to do, Mella adapted fast. She reached over and put an arm around Robb's shoulders. It may not have exactly been proper, but she'd be damned if propriety would take place over comforting this poor boy.
Mella wasn't sure how long she held Robb as he cried, but she did the best she could, rubbing his back in soothing circles to try and calm him down. She was used to Myrcella and Tommen's tears, not dealing with the tears of a boy nearly a man. Part of her wanted to cry too, for the gods allowing something like this to happen to so innocent a child, but in reality, Mella was the sort who cried very rarely indeed. She felt like she was made of stone as she sat beside Robb and comforted him to the best of her ability.
"Thank you," Robb muttered as the tears finally seemed to stop coming. Mella hastily withdrew her arm and he wiped at his eyes and offered her a small, sad smile. She felt the inexplicable need to protect this boy from the world. She didn't think she had ever seen someone so...open. It was like Robb wasn't afraid to let go around her, as though he didn't care about being seen as vulnerable. She found it fascinating and wished that she could be more like him.
"For what?" Mella was baffled. "I just sat here beside you and watched you cry."
Robb reached across and took her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. At first, Mella had a brief, fleeting thought about this breach in propriety – not that she truly cared. She bit her lip and glanced across at him, and he offered her another worn smile. His hand seemed a lot larger than hers, but it was warm and she hoped she was giving him the sort of comfort he needed. She wanted to be a light in his current darkness, leading the way...but to where?
"Just for being here, that's all. For putting up with me when I'm like this."
Gods, but she found his honesty refreshing. She was so used to the constant masquerade of the court, where no one's true intentions were ever revealed. Always the poisonous threats hidden behind sweet words, the facade of contentment when in fact, the fortress walls inside were crashing down. Robb Stark was just so different from all of that, and she envied him his freedom. He acted however he wanted, he was so open about everything...and she was still hiding behind her veil.
Robb glanced down at their interlinked hands and suddenly released her hand as though he'd come out of a daze. He averted his eyes and swallowed hard and Mella found herself disappointed. Not at the sudden loss of contact, but because she knew what Robb was doing. Don't, please don't. The formalities died when I entered the room, don't bother resurrecting them now. But it was already too late.
"My apologies, my lady," Robb mumbled, shifting a little further from her, "That was completely...it wasn't proper. I shouldn't have touched you in that manner. Please forgive me."
Suddenly, it was all too much. It was overwhelming for Mella. Bran lay before them near death and they should be focusing completely on that, not on what was proper and what was frowned upon by the court. She clambered to her feet, small hands clenched into fists of determination.
"No."
Robb looked up, watching her warily. She paced like a caged animal, but for Mella, it was time to open the door and let the beast free. No more hiding who she was, how she really felt. No more false smiles and words that weren't what she really meant. She whirled around to face Robb.
"No, I won't forgive you, Robb...because there's nothing to forgive. You are upset and it's only human to need comfort. Don't you dare be sorry for that. It doesn't matter who or am or what my title is, I'm still a person. It's not 'my lady', it's Mella. There is nothing improper about showing your grief, do you hear me? Nothing at all."
The walls of the dam had come crumbling down and the water flooded out of it with a victorious roar. Everything that Mella had kept locked away inside herself had come spurting out, and suddenly Robb was regarding her with shock and awe. She averted her eyes and bit back an automatic apology – but she wouldn't allow herself to say she was sorry. Because she wasn't, and she was so very tired of lies.
"Mella." Robb's voice was soft, but he seemed as though he didn't quite know what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He finally settled on giving in. "I think that you should go. You seem very upset yourself."
"I am fine," Mella responded coolly, before realizing that yet again, it was a lie. She was not fine. She was completely emotional and of course, Robb had picked up on that. She felt that she had completely humiliated herself in front of him. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "You're right. I should leave before..."
"Before you say something else you actually mean?" The hint of a smile played about Robb's lips, but sadness remained in his bright blue eyes. "It's not your words that have affected me, Mella. Well, they have, but not in a negative way as you seem to think. It seems that perhaps I'm actually getting to know the real you."
Mella was suddenly acutely aware that it was not supposed to be her in here comforting Robb. Filled with mixed feelings and overloaded by her emotions, Mella offered Robb a brief goodbye before she turned and left the room.