Chapter Twenty-Two: Protégé Moi

A/N: Finally, a long-awaited update! I'm sorry for my absence, but I had been so focused on finishing Shades of War. But now I'm back! The title of this chapter is French for 'protect me', in case anyone was interested.

So, this chapter really sets some things in motion. Some things you'd probably be expecting, but there are some events towards the end that might leave you a little confused...or maybe you can piece it together ;)

Please review! I'm now at nearly 300 favourites and over 500 follows. You've all been amazing, keep up the great work.

Mella felt as though her eyes had been sealed shut, for she struggled to open them. Once she did she realised that she was not alone – but it was not Robb who sat by her side, it was Catelyn. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Mella couldn't help but feel rather embarrassed. She had almost collapsed, and it had been up to Davos to help her into the infirmary tent – after which she couldn't remember much at all, because everything had faded into black.

Glancing around now, Mella saw that it was still daylight. She had either been asleep for only a few hours, or for an entire day. The smell of meat being cooked wafted into the tent, and Mella felt inexplicable nausea. Bile rose in her throat and she fumbled to pick up the bowl that had been set beside her bed before she vomited into it. Catelyn reached over and held back her hair until she was done.

"What's wrong with me?" Mella asked, beginning to grow apprehensive. As a child, she had barely ever grown ill, and never so seriously. She supposed she inherited that from her strong father. "Have I eaten something bad? Why am I so ill?"

"No, dear girl." Catelyn's voice was soft as Mella set the bowl back down on the table beside the bed. "You aren't ill. You are with child."

It took Mella a moment to process the words, although it should hardly have been a surprise. She and Robb had been trying for a child ever since they had been married, determined that Robb would have an heir. It only seemed that now she actually was pregnant, it felt like a dream. It definitely did explain the sudden dizziness and nausea she had been feeling. Mella breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where is Robb? Does he know?"

"No, and I think it is a good idea not to tell him just yet." Catelyn lowered her voice, sweeping her auburn hair out of her face. "Only myself, you and a maester is aware, and the maester has been sworn to secrecy."

Mella frowned. She didn't quite understand. Why shouldn't Robb know? It was his child. What was Catelyn so afraid of? She pushed herself up into a sitting position, raking her dark hair behind her ears.

"But why?"

"You being pregnant is a dangerous thing," Catelyn stated, her eyes boring into Mella's. "You are your father's only legitimate child. You are already a threat, although less so because you are a woman. However, if you were to bear a son…"

Mella went cold with comprehension. While Joffrey remained King, she was a threat that needed to be stamped out. If he discovered that she was with child, a boy who could possibly displace him, the need to have her killed would become even more urgent. Robb, when he knew of her pregnancy, would want to share the news and celebrate. Now Mella understood why her pregnancy, for the moment, needed to remain a closely-kept secret.

She was determined now. Mella would keep this baby safe no matter the cost. She carried Robb's heir in her belly, and that gave her a sense of responsibility. If Joffrey trembled at the thought of her having a son, that was only more proof that she was indeed the true Queen of Westeros.

"There is also news from King's Landing," Catelyn stated, watching the dark-haired girl closely for her reaction. "Your brother Joffrey is dead, poisoned at his own wedding."

Mella heaved a sigh of relief, for it had been Joffrey that she had been so concerned about. Now her younger brother Tommen would be King, and he was just a child. If anything were to happen, not even Cersei could question Mella becoming Queen. She was one step away from the throne, the throne that should by right already be hers. Leaning back against the pillows, Mella regarded Catelyn curiously.

"Who did it?"

"There are many suspects," Catelyn replied with a wry smile. "After all, your brother is not exactly the most-loved King we've ever had."

Yet not the most hated, Mella thought, her mind drifting back to Aerys Targaryen and the war that had changed a continent. Would her own quest for justice be as damaging? She certainly hoped not.

Aegon Targaryen was furious when he learned that Robb Stark and Mella Baratheon had been joined in marriage. Of course, marrying Mella was not his most important plan, but if he wanted a legitimate heir to the Iron throne, if he did not want anyone questioning him as their King, he needed her. He would have preferred to be joined to her by marriage, but now it seemed that was no longer an option.

However, there were good tidings as well as bad – Joffrey was dead, leaving his child brother Tommen as King. Now was as good a time as any to strike. Aegon knew that Jon would protest strongly if he attempted to have the Lannister children executed, but that wasn't to say he could not have them exiled to Casterly Rock for the rest of their lives. He would be a more merciful King than his grandfather, showing clemency to those who did not deserve it.

"What am I to do about the Baratheon girl?" Aegon vented, raking a hand through his silver hair. Jon was the one person he could appear vulnerable in front of, as he knew that Jon would only provide advice or criticism, and not judge him. Aegon might be the true King, but he was still young and learning from experience.

"You don't need her." Jon waved a dismissive hand. "I know it may feel as though you do, but Mella is married now, to Robb Stark."

"That can change," Aegon said darkly. If he killed Robb Stark, then he could marry Mella. Jon was right. She wasn't a necessity, but being married to her would certainly make things easier. Jon wanted him to marry Daenerys, but Aegon could not help but view his aunt with contempt. Her dragons might be impressive, but Daenerys was too busy freeing slaves in Essos. Westeros was Aegon's focus.

"Don't do anything rash," Jon pleaded. He knew that Aegon was a logical young man most of the time, yet when it came to his enemies, there was a frightening amount of Targaryen madness in the young man.

"Plotting Robb Stark's death is not rash," Aegon commented calmly. He would have to kill the pretender in any case at some point in time, why not sooner rather than later? "It is inevitable."

"Your Grace, there is someone to see you." Lord Umber appeared at the breakfast table before Robb and Mella, clearly addressing the former. Mella had a hand rested atop her husband's, but the two lapsed into silence at Lord Umber's sudden arrival. She withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair, brow furrowing slightly. Could it be one of her mother's men, come to inform them of her brother's death as though she did not already know?

"Who is it?" Robb inquired, and Lord Umber glanced out of the tent and gestured for the visitor to come forward. Only there were two of them. The smaller of the two was hooded and silent, but the dark-haired boy before them made Mella bite hard at her lip. Those stormy eyes, the dark-hair and strong features. It was like looking at a younger version of her father. There was no doubt in her mind that this boy was one of her father's bastards, although he looked so much like her that he could have been her twin.

"My name's Gendry, your Grace," the boy said as he stepped forward. His eyes caught Mella and he appeared to be experiencing equal astonishment, faltering slightly in his footsteps. Then he swallowed hard and looked back at Robb. "This girl with me…she claims that she knows you. She wanted me to bring her to you."

"You listened to her?" Mella inquired with a slight frown, but she was startled into silence when the smaller figure stepped forward and drew back her hood.

It was Sansa.

Robb's chair scraped back and he was on his feet in an instant. There was a fierce joy in Sansa's eyes at seeing her brother once again, and she wrapped her arms around him tight as Robb pulled his younger sister into a tight embrace. Mella watched with a small smile, and tried to push aside her longing for her own family. Joffrey had been a monster, but she had always loved Myrcella and Tommen. Yet somehow, she felt as though she would never see them again.

"You're alive," Robb remarked, drawing back to look at his little sister – but Sansa was now taller than Mella, hardly a child. "How did you manage to escape King's Landing?"

"It's a long story," Sansa admitted, brushing her hair out of her eyes, "I had some help from a friend. Then I met Gendry, and he said that he would bring me south so that I could be with you again…"

"Thank you." Robb turned to Gendry, clapping him on the shoulder. Unlike Mella, he did not seem to have noticed the boy's close resemblance to Robert. "I owe you a great debt for what you have done for my sister."

Mella rested a hand discretely on her stomach, thinking of her unborn child. She was only two months into her pregnancy, but Mella remembered the fierce lioness Cersei had been when protecting her children. Mella would be the same, but one of the wolves now. A doe by birth, always, but she would be a wolf when protecting her cubs. When Sansa looked to her, Mella quickly drew her hand away and got to her feet.

"It's good to see you, Sansa. I feel terrible for not having helped you out of King's Landing."

"I understand," Sansa said softly, and there was no hardness or anger towards Mella in her blue eyes. "I know that you would have helped me if you'd had the chance."

Mella's eyes lingered on Gendry. He looked slightly embarrassed at the attention, but the dark-haired girl frowned and moved towards him. He just seemed so familiar, but perhaps it was the fact that he looked like Robert. Mella remembered that her twin had died soon after they had been born – but Gendry looked a little older than her, so he couldn't be her twin.

"What is your name?"

"Gendry, my lady," the boy replied, although he struggled to meet her eyes. Mella deduced that he must be rather shy.

"Was your father Robert Baratheon?" Mella inquired, causing Gendry to frown and look up at her.

"How did you…?"

"I recognise him in your face," Mella stated, taking a deep breath and pushing away the memories of her father that made her both want to laugh and cry. "I am his eldest daughter and Robb Stark's wife, Mella Baratheon."

"Duck."

He spun around and Mella stood there, wearing armour like a soldier and with a wickedly pointed throwing knife in each hand. There was blood smeared across her face and some kind of wildness in her grey-blue eyes. Her teeth were bared in some sort of savage snarl and Robb ducked as she hurled the knife.

Her silver hair whipped in the wind and her violet eyes were narrowed. She was beautiful, but in an otherworldly, ethereal way. Not the same way as his Mella. There was poison in her, the poison of vengeance that twists and corrupts. He could see it in her eyes.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen, and I will take back what is mine with fire and blood. Neither you nor your doe wife can stop me."

A boy sat on the Iron throne, one leg crossed over the other, his blue eyes full of boredom. He had a shock of auburn curls, adorned by a golden crown. He tapped his fingers on the arms, before clambering to his feet. The throne room was empty and dark as he started reciting words as if trying to commit them to memory.

"I, Willem Stark, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven…no wait, that isn't right…"

The blonde man stood overlooking the ocean, or rather the waves that crashed over the unforgiving rocks at the bottom of the steep cliffs. He spun around, eyes Lannister green and face cold and hard as marble. He was young, but there was something very familiar about him…

"I want back what they took from me. The Iron throne is mine by right."

A breath misted out in the cold. Winter was coming. The Stark men cowered in fear at the shadowcat that snarled at them, amber eyes flaring. But it was his Queen who parted the ranks with her silent determination. The shadowcat hissed and tensed, taut leg muscles preparing to pounce, as Mella sank to her knees in the snow before it.

Fire and blood…Westeros is drowning in fire and blood…

"Duck."

Robb gasped himself awake, covered in a sheen of sweat. He immediately turned to glance at Mella but she slept soundly, apparently undisrupted by his violent awakening. He reached out for his cup of water and took a few long sips, contemplating his disturbing and nonsensical dream. Everything all blurred into one, until Robb could barely remember names or faces. What had all of it been about?

Taking care not to disturb his wife, Robb pushed himself to his feet and edged his way to the entrance of their tent. It was getting colder, and Robb wrapped his furs tight around himself. Winter was most certainly coming. He raked a hand through his curls and fiercely promised himself to forget the bizarre occurrences in his dream. Dream, or nightmare? Fiction, or reality?

Somewhere out in the night, Grey Wind howled.

A/N: Any guesses about Robb or his dreams are more than welcome ;)