Chapter Six: Doors Closing

A/N: Again, a huge thanks to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, favouriting and following! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

She felt like one of those young ladies from the stories, the ones who locked themselves away in towers, wasting their lives away. Mella remained standing in the window of her room and staring outside, her arms folded and her expression completely unimpressed. Today, the royal entourage was leaving to return to King's Landing. Today, her family would leave her to Winterfell and the cold north and the Stark family she hardly knew. It might have been alright if the girls were staying, but Sansa and Arya were venturing south with their father. The only female company she had around her own age were ladies.

"My lady." It was Alyss speaking to her. Mella turned to face her. She would not be the only one remaining in Winterfell – Robert had informed his oldest daughter that five guards and five ladies would be permitted to remain with her. It wasn't a lot, and from the expression on Alyss's face, Mella could tell that she was already starting to miss Livia, despite the fact that the older woman had not yet left. "My lady, it's time to come and say your farewells."

There was a childish part of Mella that wanted to refuse, to stubbornly insist upon staying away from the family that had abandoned her. Yet she was not a child anymore. She would miss her family over the next year or so she was in Winterfell, and she knew it well. With a heavy sigh, Mella allowed Alyss to fasten her blood-red pendant around her throat, before her ladies accompanied her down to the courtyard.

It was a bustle of activity. Two hundred people were preparing to leave Winterfell, and it seemed that the whole town was aware of it. Everyone was on edge, impatient. Mella skirted past a wagon and approached her family, swallowing hard. She would not allow herself to be emotional. Miss them as she may, they were the ones who had left her here. Mella straightened up as she walked across to the carriage, where her mother was in some heated debate with her father.

"Mella." Cersei turned away from Robert, a mournful smile lingering on her lips as she embraced her oldest daughter. Yet Mella, who knew her mother and people in general all too well, noted that Cersei's green eyes were more angry than upset. Her mother drew back and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "I know it must feel terrible, to stay in this horrible cold. But never mind. You'll be with us again before you know it."

Cersei drew back, and Mella turned her attention upon her siblings. Joffrey examined her with an impassive expression – clearly, he couldn't care less – and bowed rather stiffly from the waist. It was as though she was a stranger to him. Mella refrained from scowling, although she knew she would hardly miss Joffrey at all. He turned away and busied himself barking orders to the stable boy saddling his horse.

Myrcella and Tommen were a different story completely. Myrcella rushed over to her older sister, forgetting about any sense of propriety, and flung her arms around her waist. Mella held her close, burying her face in her little sister's blonde hair, so different to her own. When she finally drew back, Myrcella gave her a brave smile. Mella kissed her younger sister's cheek, and then Tommen was crying and holding her close. Cersei frowned as her youngest child clung insistently to her oldest.

"Tommen, that's enough of that blubbering. That won't do at all. Come, you are a prince. You don't cry like a baby."

Robert was the last to farewell Mella. At first she was expecting some sort of gruff goodbye, as though he didn't really care. Instead he pulled her into a firm bear hug, like he used to do what she was younger. Mella felt a little embarrassed, yet she was pleased that at least one of her parents made a sincere show of emotion. The king pulled back and kissed his daughter on both cheeks, and Mella saw the sorrow in his eyes.

"You had better behave yourself, young lady," he told her in a show of false sternness, "Or I will be hearing all about it."

Mella wanted to let all of her feelings go, as she had the other day with Robb, yet somehow she couldn't, not in front of everyone. She wanted to hold her father tight and tell her that she loved him, how she would miss him, but the princess within her would not allow her to do it. Instead she found herself staring at the ground. There were no tears – Mella was not the crying sort – but she was engulfed by a sense of loss.

"Goodbye, Father," she murmured.

Little did Mella know that it would be the last time she ever saw her father alive.

Winterfell seemed like a ghost town after the departure of the royal entourage. Mella hadn't realized how quiet the place would be, and she missed the hubbub of King's Landing. She felt lost, unsure what to do. The north was bleak. Mella found it growing more and more so now that her family were gone, now that there were no familiar whispers of the ladies in the corridor, she grew lonely.

Sometimes Alyss would accompany her on a turn of the castle, but other than that Mella had attempted to find a way to occupy herself. Of course, she thought matters would have grown easier after the horror that had been Bran's fall – only, she had been wrong. Mere days after the royal party had left, there had been an assassination attempt on the boy's life, and Catelyn had been forced to ride for King's Landing.

Mella had recognised the dagger, but she would never have said so. Catelyn already suspected her family, and her claim that the dagger had belonged to her uncle Tyrion would only be further enforced by the fact that Tyrion had had Mella gifted a dagger of her own before his departure. The princess had suspected that Jaime and her mother had something to do with Bran's fall, but she never would have thought Tyrion was involved. Now she felt betrayed, and hemmed in, unsure which way to turn. How was she supposed to support her family when she didn't know if she could trust them?

The fact that Tyrion had given her a dagger as a parting gift was a curiosity to Mella. Was he implying that she shouldn't trust the Starks, that she may need to be able to defend herself? She was so lost in thought that while she cannoned into someone, having been taking a turn around the castle. Mella was immediately shaken from her thoughts, and found herself glancing at Robb.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically, but she noticed that Robb was examining her with a critical expression and she found herself frowning. "What is it?"

"Are you well?" Robb inquired, his gaze growing concerned, "You look distant."

"In my mind I'm back in King's Landing," Mella admitted, brushing back a strand of dark hair. Robb didn't need to hear about all of this. "Anyway, I don't doubt that you have more important things to be worrying about, so I shall leave you to it."

Mella made to walk past him, but Robb caught her by the wrist. The sudden contact made her whirl back around, surprised. She wanted to tell him to let go, but at the same time, she really didn't want him to. His blue eyes were full of worry as he examined her and Mella wondered if perhaps he did care as Theon thought he might.

"I worry about you," Robb insisted, stepping closer to her, "You haven't been the same since your family left. Normally you're so full of life, but now, you're like a ghost."

Mella was so used to reading other people, but she didn't like it when other people could read her. There was genuine anxiety in Robb's blue eyes, and she was torn, unsure if she wanted him to care or not. She was aware of his grip on her wrist and for once in her life, she was lost for her words. But then Mella regained her dignity and drew herself up.

"I'm fine, thank you, Robb."

"No." Robb shook his head slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft, almost tender. "No you're not. You once said that it was only human to want comfort. Well, I'm here for you, Mella. I know that it can't have been easy to watch your family leave and if you ever need someone...I'm around."

She felt a surge of gratitude towards him, but she quickly shoved it away. She glanced pointedly at his fingers closed around her wrist. Robb followed her gaze and cleared his throat, taking a step back and releasing her. Mella couldn't understand why she was acting so...cold. Perhaps she was afraid to love, afraid to fall. Yet why was she, if she didn't know whether she might drop or fly?

"Why do you care?" Mella asked him sharply, her heart hammering faster as she noted that perhaps he did have feelings for her after all. Robb became suddenly intent on staring at his feet, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks. She examined him, half-hopeful and half-terrified. What did this mean for them? Would he even admit the truth about how he felt...or was she just jumping to conclusions. "Robb?"

"Alright." Robb raked a hand through his dark hair and he heaved a sigh. "Perhaps I want to get closer to you. You...you're intriguing, Mella. Just when I think I know everything about you, there's something that surprises me. Like in Bran's room that time..."

"Oh." Mella felt her cheeks heating up and she knew she must be flushing. She still remembered that rather embarrassing episode all too clearly. Yet the way spoke of it, there was no disdain. There was almost admiration...admiration for her loss of control. She didn't understand it one bit. "That...I never meant to chastise you like that. It wasn't right of me to lose my temper like that..."

Robb shook his head fervently, a wry smile crossing his lips. "Don't ever be sorry, that was what you told me. Now it looks like I'm repeating your message. I love seeing the real you, Mella. When you come out from behind that mask and I see who you really are...when I see that fire...it gives me hope. So don't ever let someone put that fire out. You don't have to be a shell. You are whoever you want to be."

She couldn't help but smile as his words gave her courage. He was right, she supposed. Too long, Mella had been hiding who she really was underneath a facade of civility and composure. Now it was time for the real her to shine through, and she vaguely wondered if that was what her family had been so worried about. Perhaps they had known that remaining in Winterfell would change Mella...that Robb Stark would change her.

"I still can't believe you left our daughter to the Starks." Cersei was bitter as she filled up her goblet with more Dornish wine, glowering across at Robert. After Bran's fall, there had been even more tension between the Starks and the Lannisters. Cersei feared leaving her daughter in the north amidst such rivalry. Catelyn was kind enough, but she knew little of the oldest son, Robb.

"For the love of the seven, woman," Robert growled. "Ned and the girls are with us. It's only Catelyn and the boys there, what harm do you think is going to come to her? Catelyn is warm towards the girl."

His face was red with drink, for wasn't that what they both did? As if somehow, alcohol could make their sour marriage more tolerable. He didn't want to shove his daughter into some bloody political alliance where she would become the frigid wife to a drunkard husband. Yes, it was true that he wanted something to blossom between Mella and Robb – yet he had the distinct impression that his efforts were in vain.

"That was before," Cersei snapped, taking another swallow of her wine. "After the boy fell she sees enemies everywhere, she's a grieving mother. What if she thinks we're responsible? What if she takes it out on Mella?"

"You are the paranoid one," Robert replied irritably, "The woman isn't fool enough to harm the oldest daughter of the king. She bears me no ill will; it's your bloody father the Starks have the problem with."

Cersei bristled at that, but remained in indignant silence rather than deigning to reply. She truly did want Mella to be happy, yet she felt her husband was attempting to force happiness upon the poor girl, as though he could make her fall for Robb. There was no doubting the boy was handsome, but good looks didn't mean everything. In a year's time, when the fostering period was over, what if Mella had formed no attraction to the Stark boy? Would Robert stubbornly insist on keeping her there?

"If anything happens to our daughter, I will never forgive you." Cersei sneered, clambering to her feet in a whirlwind of gold hair and red silks. "Never."