Chapter Nine: Prices Paid
A/N: Again, a huge THANK YOU to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, following and favouriting! Also, if any of you are interested, CityGirl13 and I have finished writing an original story, which I've started posting on Fictionpress. You can find the link to it on my profile, it's called FLAGRANTE DELICTO, and I would love love LOVE if you'd at least check it out, if not review with what you think ;)
Mella sat on her bed with her knees curled to her chest, trying to choke back sobs that shook her frame. The crumpled letter beside her had brought the news of her father's sudden death – apparently he had died when he had been skewered by a boar while hunting. Mella thought of Robert, of the man with the deep laugh and the big belly and the gruff kindnesses. She raked her hair back from her face and cried all the harder for the knowledge that she had not even been there in his last moments.
Joffrey would be King now, and Mella highly doubted he would be a good one. Her brother was too full of cruelty, too delighted by the torment of others. Her mother had commanded her home for Joffrey's coronation, but Mella wasn't certain that she could remain there. She had spent so long in the north now that the cold no longer affected her, and she could not bring herself to care for her family's feud with the Starks.
"Mella?" The door opened and Robb stood there with his hand on the knob. His expression immediately morphed into one of sympathy when he saw her, curled up on the bed holding herself tight. Her hair was a mess, her face red and her eyes puffy from crying. Robb immediately crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed, tentatively putting an arm around her.
Mella leaned against his shoulder, and Robb's hesitance vanished and he pulled her closer, lending her his warmth. She buried her face in his shirt and cried once more, for not only had she lost her father, but the memories that went with him. Then there was the fact that Robert was the only thing standing between an outbreak of violence between the Starks and the Lannisters. His friendship with Ned meant that hostilities sweltered but never broke out, but his death meant that if Cersei wished to make an enemy of Ned, she would not be stopped.
"I am so sorry," Robb muttered, for in truth he could not begin to comprehend Mella's loss. How would he feel if his own father died? He was not certain, but even the idea filled him with dread. He stroked her dark hair as the warmth of her tears seeped into the fabric of his shirt, and her frame shook against him with the force of her sobs.
"I got the letter this morning," Mella said, her voice muffled against his shirt. She extricated herself from his arms, getting up off the bed and crossing over to the window. She could see the entirety of Winterfell from here, so very different to King's Landing. What had been the last thing her father had seen, before he faded out? She wished it had been her face, so that she could remember spending his last moments with him. Instead she was hundred of leagues away, having to find out about her father's death by a letter written in her mother's hand.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Robb inquired, and when Mella turned back to face him she could see in his blue eyes that he was lost. She bit her lip, wondering whether there was anything Robb could do that would bring her solace. When she hesitated, Robb got to his feet and crossed over to her, putting his arms around her and tugging her close. "I will always be here for you, you know that, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Mella whispered, averting her eyes.
Robb tilted her chin up and saw the sadness written all over her face. He wanted to comfort her as best he could, but this was different to Bran's fall. It was over so very suddenly, whereas Bran had been caught between life and death for over a month. Mella hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye. He hesitantly leaned in, and then abandoned all tentativeness and kissed her, drawing her closer.
Mella kissed back, fisting her hands in his shirt. She needed closeness, she needed something to hold onto to make the cold of the coming winter and the sorrow in her heart go away. Robb's fingers weaved their way into her dark hair and she pressed close against him, until she could feel his heart beating through their chests. He smiled against her lips, but she pushed against his chest and staggered backwards, smoothing out her dress and flattening her hair as Robb watched in bewilderment.
"Mella?" Robb questioned tentatively. "Are you alright? Have I wronged you?"
No, but that was why Mella found a problem with it. Kissing Robb felt so right. But her father had just died and here she was, kissing the son of his best friend. She did not need to concern herself with affairs such as romance or marriage, for right now they did not matter. Her brother was King, and to Mella, that brought her suddenly closer to the throne as well. Tommen was next in line after Joffrey, and she was after Tommen.
"I just need some time alone," Mella murmured, turning away from Robb and placing her hands on the window ledge. Her mind was whirling with troubles she had no wish to share. Behind her Robb paused, hesitated. He didn't know if leaving Mella alone while she was in her current condition was a wise idea. The Princess wasn't even wearing her cloak, as though winter's chill was nothing compared to the empty hole that her father's death had left behind.
"Mella..."
"Just go!" Mella snapped, whirling around to face Robb. She immediately regretted her words when she saw hurt flare through his eyes, before he clenched his jaw and nodded slowly. She opened her mouth to say something, utter an apology for her harshness perhaps, but he had already turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Mella leaned against the wall and hammered her fist against it, as her father had once slammed his hammer against Rhaegar Targaryen's armour.
She slid to the ground, sobbing hysterically until she found that she couldn't breathe. She wanted no sympathy. All she wanted was her father back, the one thing she would ask that she knew she could never achieve. Now she had alienated Robb, the one thing she had been certain of in the cold north.
In truth, Cersei was starting to worry about Mella returning to King's Landing. It was odd, really. She had been so discontent with her daughter remaining in the north, yet now she feared that the girl would discover what she really was. Mella had always been perceptive, so what if now she had the ability to see through Cersei's facade? What if she somehow managed to find out what had truly caused Robert's death?
"You need to stop being so paranoid," Jaime drawled when Cersei told him of her suspicions. He raked a hand through his blonde hair. "Look, Mella is your daughter, but Robert's blood also runs through her veins, and your husband was always ignorant unless it directly affected him.
"Robert's death does affect her," Cersei snapped in response, folding her arms. Since her husband had died, Ned Stark had become restless. She knew that he must be planning something – only, what? Cersei had always known that she could trust no one but her own family, care for no one but Jaime and her children. "What if she does find out? She would not bend to knee to Joffrey then."
"She won't find out," Jaime nearly hissed, beginning to lose his patience. "For the love of the Seven, woman, will you stop your constant fretting?"
Cersei just couldn't help it. She had spent so long building herself up and she couldn't afford to come crashing down now. Robert's death had not been suspicious – after all, everyone in the seven kingdoms knew what a drunkard he was – yet it would only take one doubtful mind to ruin everything. Whoever spoke against what Cersei declared to be the truth would have to be quickly silenced.
Mella had shut herself away from everyone for several days before she decided that she'd done quite enough moping and needed to focus upon getting back to King's Landing. So she had spent the entire morning down in the courtyard overseeing preparations for her departure. Her five guards and five ladies would, of course, be accompanying her on her venture back to the capital. She didn't even realise Robb had been paying any attention to the activity until he descended the stairs.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, folding his arms over his chest and examining the small carriage Mella had requested with a frown crossing his lips.
"Returning to King's Landing for Joffrey's coronation," Mella replied in an equally brisk voice, lifting her chin as if daring him to contradict her decision. She didn't normally like fighting with people, but she just felt as though she and Robb needed to argue and get it out of their systems before they could start getting along once more.
"You're leaving?" Robb's tone faltered slightly, and Mella found an ache beginning to burn like the cold of Winterfell in her chest. If she left Robb behind, what was to say that her mother wouldn't command her to stay in King's Landing? What if she never saw him again? She forced herself firmly away from such pessimistic thoughts, but still the prospect of losing him was one that Mella couldn't quite let go of. The cool flakes of snow had felt as good against her skin as now, when she faced leaving them behind, forsaking the oncoming winter in the north for the sweltering heat of King's Landing.
"Yes." The words came out a whisper, as though she could hardly bring herself to speak them. Mella watched Robb's shoulders slump, and realised that he truly did care about her. Her heart surged to know that her father had been right to leave her in Winterfell after all. Robert had thought something would spark between Robb and Mella and despite the fact that Mella had been doubtful, her father had been right about something. Now that he was dead, she knew it was up to her to keep up good relations with Robb. She couldn't depend on her mother to let her return to Winterfell.
"But you'll come back?" Robb sounded torn between being hopeful and desperate. He crossed over to her, watching as she averted her eyes. "Mella?"
"I...I don't know," Mella stammered, raising her gaze to meet his. She bit down on her lip and prayed to the Seven that she would someday be reunited with Robb, someday soon. Perhaps she could go to Joffrey's coronation and then return to Winterfell? She did not want to raise her hopes too high, out of fear they might come crashing down around her.
"I hope you do," Robb replied, putting his arms around her and pulling her into a very informal embrace – but Mella no longer cared. She buried her face in Robb's shoulder and allowed herself to breathe him, before doing something she hadn't ever dared do except privately – she pressed his lips to his. She heard Alyss gasp, but Mella no longer cared. There was a certain numbness that had accompanied her father's death, and it had ignited a sort of recklessness within her.
After a few moments, she drew back, slightly breathless. A flush now coloured Robb's cheeks, but he looked significantly more pleased than he had before. She almost wished that she could invite him with her to King's Landing, but current tension between their two families ensured that he would not be welcome, and Mella had no wish to endanger Robb. She extricated herself from his arms and swallowed hard, raising her chin.
"Lord Stark."
A smile tweaked at the corners of his lips. "Princess Mella."
Robb had been in a grim mood ever since Mella had left, but the letter that had arrived mere days after her departure had caused him to become more solemn still. He glanced over the letter that Maester Luwin had given him, as though the words could have changed, as though there could possibly be some kind of mistake.
"Treason?" He stated incredulously, brow furrowing into a terse frown. It seemed highly unlikely to him. His father had always been a good and honourable man and he would not do anything to disrespect Robert's memory so soon after the King's death. "Sansa wrote this."
"It is your sister's hand," Maester Luwin agreed, glancing at the letter. Theon attempted to peer over Robb's elbow at what was written on the parchment. "But the Queen's words. You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King."
King's Landing...that was where Mella was headed. If Robb rode hard, he could catch up with him...but no. His father's honour had been insulted, and Robb suspected that Cersei had something to do with this. Likely she had fabricated some lie, fearing him too close to Robert, that he would gain too much power from his friend's death.
"Joffrey puts my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?" Robb inquired contemptuously, his hands fisting around the letter.
"This is a royal command, my lord," Maester Luwin informed Robb grimly. "If you should refuse to obey..."
"I won't refuse." Robb's voice was hard. Things had been difficult for him since Mella had taken her leave to return to King's Landing, but now it would seem the Lannisters were more determined than ever to get rid of any possible power the Starks may have. "His grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone. Call the banners."
Robb handed the letter back to Maester Luwin, crumpling it up for what little it was worth. A slight smile crossed Theon's lips as he looked up at Robb, and even Maester Luwin appeared somewhat impressed by Robb's defiance.
"All of them, my lord?" he asked quietly.
"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?" Robb was fully aware that by declaring war on Mella's family, he was essentially declaring war on her as well – and then, she would have to choose her side, choose if she wanted to belong with him in Winterfell, or remain in King's Landing with those who had first injured and now imprisoned Ned Stark.
"They have."
"Now what we see what their words are with," Robb said in a hard voice, his eyes glimmering with the coldness of winter itself.