Chapter Twenty: Perfection

A/N: So I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas! I wanted to put this up before New Year, and let you know that the rating has gone up to M for reasons ;) You've all been so very amazing - I now have over 230 reviews, over 220 favourites and over 400 follows! It really does mean the world to me that you guys are so supportive. It would be amazing if I managed to get up to 250 reviews for this chapter...and would also mean an update is likely to be quicker ;)

But please, let me know what you think! Your opinions really do matter to me, and I'm glad you've been here with me through this journey so far. Don't worry though, I still have many more plans for Robb and Mella. This is practically just the beginning!

It was a tiring journey north, but then again, Mella had not anticipated that it would be easy. Her men seemed in fact more lively about it than she was, with many discussing the fact that they had never left the sweltering heat of the south. That was perhaps what encouraged her the most, the brightness of those around her even when she felt so weary she might fall off her horse. Nonetheless, she was immensely relieved when one of the scouts returned, announcing that he had found the Stark camp.

"My lady, should we fly our colours?" Ser Davos asked uncertainly.

Mella bit her lip. Should she proudly fly her Baratheon colours, when Robb could assume it was Stannis come to meet him on the battlefield? It didn't seem to be such a wise idea. If Robb didn't know who they were, he was less likely to attack. But considering she had left him in the first place…would he consider her friend or foe? She shook her head, glancing sternly at the rest of her men.

"No colours."

Ser Davos nodded, and Mella urged her horse forward, following the scout as he galloped back the way he'd come. She had to admit that she was nervous, and would be a fool not to be. She had gone to the capital without telling him, and felt guilty for not returning with Sansa. The poor girl was still captive in King's Landing, but it was far too dangerous for Mella to return for her. Joffrey didn't trust her. Perhaps by now, her own mother didn't trust her. It weighed heavily on her shoulders, to think how many people were suspicious of her motives.

The scout exchanged a few words with the sentry on duty. Mella watched the pair of them, dark hair stirring in the gentle breeze. She lifted her chin and made sure to look imperious and proud. She was no longer an uncertain girl, not knowing which side she should choose. She was a woman who made her own destiny, and who knew for sure that she was the true Queen of Westeros. Anyone who disputed that fact was her enemy…including Robb, if he so chose to cross her.

It seemed like hours before Robb rode up to meet with Mella. Her heart seemed to flutter in her chest upon seeing him, but she forced herself to remain calm. It would do no good acting like a hopelessly romantic girl, even if this young man was the one she loved. Instead, Mella dismounted her horse and strode towards the Stark men, ignoring the openly shocked expressions of Ser Davos and others.

"Robb."

He swung a leg over the side of his horse and walked over to meet her, Grey Wind by his side. It astonished Mella to see how much the direwolf had grown, yet he obviously recognised her, because he didn't growl or tense up. Robb's expression was impassive, and Mella swallowed, wondering if over the course of a few months, he had given up on her. She bit her lip, awaiting his verdict.

"Mella. It's good to see you again."

The greeting was somewhat stiff, but it was to be expected. Robb's eyes seemed to linger on the men she had brought with her, and Mella was pleased to think that he might now consider her to be more formidable. Her eyes sought out Catelyn, but Robb's mother was nowhere in sight.

"You must be wondering why I'm here." Mella raised her voice so that all those with her could hear her words. "I am here to seek an alliance, but not to back your claim as King. I want you to back my claim as true Queen of Westeros."

Her bold words caused a flurry of mutters amongst the men, especially Robb's. Mella did not take her eyes away from him, and was not surprised to see that he looked taken aback by her request. Obviously she was far more grown up than the girl who had fled the north with her uncle. Mella was a woman of her own opinions, rather than adhering to those of the men in power around her. She had come to terms with her own position of power, and was prepared to use it.

"There is only one way that will work." Robb's words were slow, careful. "If you become my wife so that I can rule by your side – not only as one who seeks retribution for the crimes committed against my family, but as a man who truly admires and respects you."

Mella couldn't believe how happy his words made her. After all this time, he still wanted to wed her. There had been so many challenges in the past – and yet now, finally, there was the chance for them to be together. A relieved smile crossed her face, before her eyes searched his pleadingly for the word he seemed to have forgotten.

"What of love, Robb? Do you hold any of that in your heart?"

"Of course I do." Robb's composure crumbled like a brick wall and he took a few steps towards her, pulling her close and crushing her against his armour in a fierce embrace. Mella didn't even care that her hair was catching on the steel. All that mattered was that she was finally here, with him, in the north. He had accepted her conditions, and after so much of a struggle, all seemed to be well again. "I love you, Mella. That hasn't changed."

"But what about the Frey girl?" Mella questioned, the memory that he had been betrothed to a daughter of Lord Frey suddenly catching up with her. She drew away from him, eyes wide. "I can't marry you if you're intended for another…"

"I broke that vow," Robb admitted grimly, raking a hand through his curly hair. "Edmure is to marry one of his daughters instead."

Mella nodded, still too overwhelmed with emotion. It seemed too easy. After everything she had struggled through, it didn't seem possible that she could find happiness with Robb. Yet there was no way she was turning her back on this wonderful opportunity for them to be together.

"When should we marry?" Mella inquired, trying to betray none of her intense excitement.

"Tonight," Robb stated, pulling her close to him once more and kissing her for everyone present to see.

"How do you think you men see us?" Robb inquired over the grand feast that night. True to his word, he had made preparations for their marriage. Catelyn was even present, fussing over Mella and asking her son if he didn't want to wait for a less rushed occasion. But neither of them wanted to wait, not when war was so close and any day could be their last. Mella was wearing an old dress of Catelyn's that suited her wonderfully, and the glow she radiated in her haze of happiness seemed to make her all the more beautiful.

"I don't really care." Mella waved a dismissive hand. She was doing this for love, but also because she truly believed it was the right choice to make. With Robb by her side, she would be unstoppable. He was going to help her get her throne, and they would be King and Queen of Westeros – as they should be. Mella just wanted to make things right, and with Robb, she had found that opportunity.

It was a little saddening that none of her family were here to see her married – and yet her family had betrayed her, with Cersei placing Joffrey on the throne despite knowing that it was Mella's birthright. Hardening her heart against them, Mella knew that she had to focus on what she had now – her men, her new family. The past was history. She couldn't afford to think of her family's sins, for they were not hers.

"Do you think it's time?" Robb inquired, touching Mella's hand gently. He had never made love before, and knew she had not either. It was likely to be a nerve-wracking lead-up to it, and he wanted her to be comfortable with him. Mella licked her dry lips and nodded, pushing herself to her feet. Immediately, the young men and women were on their feet, overcome with excitement.

"It's time for the bedding!"

The men swept Mella from the room, with such vigour that she couldn't quite help but forget her nervousness and laugh. It was cold in the north, but the atmosphere was warm. She allowed herself to be disrobed and led into a small, dimly lit room where Robb was waiting for her. The girls who had escorted the King in the North in giggled, and departed whispering among themselves. The young men did likewise, nudging each other and making bets. Only when the door closed and they were alone in the room did Mella fully relax.

"Are you nervous?" Robb inquired, moving towards her. Mella was very aware that he was naked, and she had to stop her eyes from drifting, knowing she would flush. She was also very aware of her own nudity, and had to refrain from covering herself up. She knew that Robb was taking her in, soft curves and all, and she wondered if he liked what he saw or not. Robb placed his hands on her cheeks, tilting her face up.

"Of course I am," Mella murmured, before raising her voice slightly, "But not as nervous as I would be if it was someone other than you."

Robb kissed her, softly at first as if to test how she would respond. But when Mella threw her arms around his neck and responded fiercely, his kisses became more passionate. His hands rested on her hips as he kissed down her neck, nibbling lightly at the tender skin and making her giggle as his beard tickled her skin. Robb backed towards the bed, pulling his new wife with him, and Mella followed most willingly.

"Have you done this before?" Mella asked a little breathlessly as Robb helped her lie back against the pillows.

Robb shook her head. "No. Never."

It made her feel more heartened to know that they were both going into this as novices, learning by experience. Mella grabbed Robb by the shoulders and pulled him down on top of her, the pair of them laughing and rolling about together as if they were children. He ran a hand through her silky dark hair, fingers skimming down the smooth skin of her back. But it was only when he looked in her eyes that he knew he should say it.

"I really do love you."

Mella pressed a finger to his lips. "I know. I love you too."

Robb allowed his hands to roam, exploring the curves of Mella's body. They ran up her sides and found her breasts, squeezing gently and making her gasp in pleasure. She let her hands drift in turn, running over his shoulders and down his chest. Boldly, Mella climbed into his lap and took his face in her hands, kissing him again and winding her fingers in his dark curls. He gently leaned her back so that she was lying down again, with him poised over her, eyes asking for permission.

Mella nodded, and Robb leaned forward to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly and coaxing a moan from the dark-haired girl. She arched her back and her fingers dug harder into his back as his tongue caressed the tender flesh. His hand found her other breast, tweaking at the nipple until it was hard with desire. He drew back with a wicked grin, before sliding a hand between Mella's legs. The sudden feeling of him touching her there was enough to make her buck her hips against his hand, gasping in surprise.

"Are you ready?" Robb asked huskily. He moved himself so that he was positioned between her legs, gently gripping her thighs and spreading them further apart. Mella felt a twinge of worry, but she nodded fervently. The desire outweighed the fear. She did want this, more than anything.

Robb pushed into her gently, and Mella bit down her lip. She knew that there would be pain, but she hadn't expected it to hurt like that. She kept a firm grip on Robb's shoulders and noticed his eyes boring into hers, slight guilt in them for causing her pain. She took a deep breath and let her body relax. The sharp pain receded and was replaced by the feeling of him being inside her. Seeing that she was no longer tense, Robb started to move.

A soft moan escaped Mella at the sensation, although there was some slight discomfort. Nonetheless, the more Robb kept up his thrusts, the more that she felt she was beginning to enjoy it. She placed wet kisses down his neck, across his collarbone, encouraging him. Robb groaned in pleasure, gripping her hips and pulling her legs up to wrap firmly around his waist. Mella rocked her hips in time to his movements, causing Robb to groan louder.

Eventually Mella felt a pleasure starting to rise within in, a fuzzy sort of heat that made her feel both wonderful and slightly uncomfortable at the same time. She hadn't even realised how loud her moans had become, as Robb's pace became faster and less controlled. She clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he pumped into her several more times, grunting as he reached his climax.

Mella felt herself starting to come down from her dizzying high, rubbing Robb's back as he panted, hot breaths against the sweaty skin of her neck. She untangled her legs from around his waist and after a few moments of only their heavy breathing, he rolled off her, stretched out and utterly exhausted from their lovemaking. Mella reached across and touched his cheek tenderly, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across her lips, and seeing an answering smile on her husband's.

Perhaps by blood, she would always be a Baratheon. She was still fully entitled to the position of Queen which she so desperately sought to claim. But right here and now, she was more than content to be Mella Stark, wife of the King in the North. Robb's. As she should be.

Aegon Targaryen paced the conference room, where he was to meet with Doran Martell for the second time. At first, the old man had been reluctant to believe the claims that Aegon was in fact his nephew and the true heir to the throne of Westeros. But Aegon had proved his mettle, and even now believed his uncle would agree to an alliance. Doran wanted to avenge the horrible death of his sister Elia, Aegon wanted the throne he was entitled to. He spun around as the door opened and Doran wheeled himself in, accompanied by a silent Quentyn.

"Have you thought about what I've said?" Aegon asked, eyes darting between Doran and Quentyn. It had become obvious that Doran had intended to lure Mella south and have her marry Quentyn, but the game had changed. Aegon had established himself as one of the powerful players on this board, now he just needed people to back him. People like the Martells, the only family he had left.

"I have." Doran clasped his hands together and observed his nephew. There was no doubt in his mind that Aegon was more of a boy than a man, brash and untested. He had fought battles, yet the biggest battle would be obtaining the woman he wished to marry – Mella Baratheon. Doran knew better than to think Aegon wanted her because she was a pretty face, but rather because she would cement his claim to the throne. "You are the child of my sister Elia, who was torn from this world before her time. I despise the Lannisters more than most, and so of course I will back your claim to the throne."

Aegon inclined his head, the picture of modesty. "Thank you, uncle."

"In fact, I have a plan." Doran glanced at Quentyn, who stepped forward. "The Lannisters have enemies on every side. They shut themselves away in King's Landing, where they believe themselves to be safe. Stannis Baratheon's embarrassing attempt of a siege from the sea showed that will not work. We need brute force. We need numbers. Above all, we need something to make them shrink on themselves. You are that thing, Aegon. Very few know about your survival, and it will be shocking once they discover it."

"So we attack King's Landing?" Aegon inquired, more confidently than he felt. He had fought battles, but nothing of this magnitude. With Mella gone and Stannis likely dead, he felt that he had lost that battle even though it had only been fire he'd been fighting. "Do we have the numbers for it?"

"I will be sending Quentyn along with you." Doran glanced at his son, who lifted his chin but refused to meet his cousin's violet eyes. "Between your Golden Company and my men, I would say we have enough men required to batter down their gates and show the Lannisters that they cannot always win."

"I only desire the throne," Aegon stated, folding his arms over his powerful chest. "Ask for anything else, and it is yours. The only thing I will be taking that doesn't yet belong to me is Mella Baratheon."