Chapter Twenty-Eight: Willem

A/N: Okay, you are all freaking amazing. How do I have over 680 favourites and over 1,000 follows? Honestly, I never imagined that any of my stories would get that popular and I feel like I'm thanking you all every chapter, but I'm so grateful to have you all reading this story.

I would also like to mention that I am the beta for a story written by the amazingly talented justsmile17, her story is very unique and it's also a Robb/OC, so for all you Robb lovers, keep an eye on her because the first chapter should be out very soon!

I don't think there's much more that needs to be said, apart from the fact that the final part of this chapter might leave you reeling a little...but I did my research!

Pain was not something that was a particularly new concept to Mella. When she had been five years old, she been running too fast and tripped over the hem of her skirts, tumbling down a flight of stairs. She sprained her ankle and there were several nasty bruises, but she had managed to avoid breaking anything. When she had been twelve, she had stepped on a sewing needle with a bare foot, and her howl of pain had roused her mother.

But in her nearly nineteen years, Mella had never experienced anything like childbirth. It wasn't a pain that was pinpointed in a certain location, but rather it burned throughout her entire body, so that she wondered how practically every woman went through this at least once, if not multiple times, during their life. Her skin was slippery with a sheen of sweat, and she gritted her teeth and clutched at Catelyn's hand as another contraction hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

"You're so close now, Mella," Catelyn soothed her, dabbing at the dark-haired young woman's forehead with a wet cloth. Her palm had deep red half-crescent marks from Mella's nails, some of which were bleeding slightly, but she seemed not to notice. She was too focused on the birth of her first grandchild.

On Mella's other side, Sansa fidgeted nervously. Catelyn had attempted to shoo her eldest daughter, but both she and Robb had fiercely insisted that they were staying. While Robb had been persuaded, with his mother saying that the birthing bed was not a place for a man, no words had been able to sway Sansa. She was pale as snow, but her blue eyes glittered with resolve.

"I can't do it," Mella rasped, her voice hoarse from her cries of pain. Her head slumped back against the pillows, and tears trailed down her cheeks. She felt furious at herself for being so weak, but she could not help it. She had not expected childbirth to be quite like this. She licked her dry lips and took a few sharp breaths, preparing for the next contraction.

"Yes, you can." Sansa's voice was strong and full of determination as she moved closer to her good-sister. "You are Queen Mella Baratheon, last of your house and true heir to the throne. Your words are 'ours is the fury'. You have plenty of fury, so use it."

Mella stared at Sansa for several moments, both impressed and bewildered by her passion. She had truly grown from a demure girl into a strong young woman, and she felt a wave of pride wash over her. Unfortunately this was followed by her strongest contraction yet, and Mella arched her back and screamed. Catelyn frowned and moved from her good-daughter's side to stand beside Maester Nolan.

"There's something wrong," Nolan murmured, peering more closely at Mella, "The baby is coming out the wrong way."

"What does that mean?" Mella demanded, dread coursing through her although she understood. Her mother had always told her that a baby was meant to come out upside down, with its head emerging first. The opposite was called a breech birth and could be extremely dangerous for both mother and child. "He's going to be alright, isn't he? My son?"

"We need to act quickly." Nolan strode across to his table of vials, searching through them before handing over a milky-looking substance. "Milk of the poppy. Drink this, your Grace."

Mella stared at the vial, and then at the Maester. However she knew that no harm would come to her whilst Catelyn and Sansa were in the room. Reluctantly, she downed the liquid from the small vial. She was unable to help her concern about her baby. If he died, she didn't know what she would do. Everyone else was anticipating the birth of an heir, but for her it was far worse. She already loved the little one who had resided in her belly for nine months, and the loss would be far more personal and more devastating.

Her vision swam as Nolan took the vial from her shaking hands. She felt incredibly sleep, and all the pain seemed to be seeping out of her body, like poison being drained from a wound. The last thing she saw was the Maester removing a surgical knife from the table, but by then she was too far gone to even think to be afraid.

Mella swam into consciousness with a dull throbbing ache all over her body. She unglued her eyelids, wondering precisely how long it had been since she had been put under with milk of the poppy. Her thoughts became frantic when she remembered the baby, and she looked around wildly. Immediately she became calmer when she saw Catelyn holding a tiny but wriggling and very much alive blanketed bundle. Tears of joy came to her eyes, but when Mella made to sit up, sharp pain burned through her and she cried out.

"Careful," Catelyn said, hurrying over to sit beside Mella. The dark-haired girl tugged up her dress with shaking hands, to see a series of stitches crossing her stomach horizontally. She felt nauseous when she realised that the baby had been cut out of her. Trying not to think on such matters, Mella peered at the small bundle in Catelyn's arms.

"Is he…?"

"A boy." Catelyn smiled proudly, looking down at the newborn with love in her eyes. "You and Robb have a son. He visited while you were asleep. The child is healthy and once you recover, you will be too."

"Can I hold him?" Mella held out her arms. "What is his name?"

"Willem," Catelyn said fondly, and Mella swelled with love when she realised that her husband had given their son the name she had chosen after all. "You are not strong enough to hold him yet, Mella. He has been nursed already…"

Mella felt a sharp sting of rejection. Her baby had nursed from another woman's breast? She remembered her mother's fierce insistence upon nursing her children herself, something Mella had always believed in as well. She understood that she was frail from the difficult birth, but the idea that another woman had shared that intimate moment with her son instead of her was still a hurtful one.

Yet, the sound of her baby gurgling, seeing the tuft of thick dark hair, filled her with happiness. Her son was alive, they were both alive. She reached out and stroked his soft hair, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks. She had never known that it would be such an emotional experience to become a mother. She glanced at Catelyn, who was watching her with a tender look in her eyes.

"Will Robb come back to see us soon?"

"Of course," Catelyn smiled. "You must rest for now, but I will send Robb in once and the child have slept."

Over the next few days, Mella found herself drifting in and out of sleep as she healed from Willem's birth. Robb visited, always enthusiastic to see her and always adoring of their son. Catelyn and Sansa were also frequent visitors, and it never ceased to amaze Mella how loving a family the Starks were. Willem seemed to be loved by everyone, especially by his mother when she had the strength to sit up and hold him. Feeding him for the first time was something that almost brought Mella to tears.

This time when she woke up, it was dark and there were scuffling steps creeping closer. Frowning, she blinked a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Perhaps it was simply one of her family trying to find a candle. Then she realised someone was looming over Willem's cot, and her maternal instinct kicked in. None of the Starks would venture in here for Willem under cover of darkness. So Mella did the only thing she could in a situation where she was weak and vulnerable: she screamed.

The baby seemed to catch on immediately, because he started crying loudly. The intruder drew back from the cot and stumbled for the door, but by that time Robb and Catelyn were already hurrying in with candles in their hands. The intruder was thrown into the sharp light – a scowling Maester Nolan. Mella's heart thudded in her chest. If the maester wanted her dead, he would have killed her in childbirth. But he didn't, because he had wanted her baby to survive.

"What are you doing in here?" Robb demanded, his voice stern and his blue eyes flashing. Slowly but surely, Mella eased her sore frame out of bed and draped a fur around her shoulders. She moved over to stand beside her husband, as the wide-eyed maester seemed to search for an escape.

"I was merely checking on your child, your Grace…"

"Why would you be doing such a thing in the dark?" Mella glared at him, before she turned to her husband. "I believe he was trying to kidnap Willem."

"Your Grace, I…I would never…" Nolan stammered, but the way panic flared in his eyes made Mella certain she was right. The only question now was who had paid Nolan to do so. He certainly wouldn't want a royal baby for himself. Was it Cersei? Or someone closer to home? The answer was suddenly clear as day: someone she had suspected from the start, someone whose motives were always unclear. Petyr Baelish.

"Did Lord Baelish pay you to do it?" Mella asked sharply. Robb had moved across to his son's cot and picked him up, holding the tiny baby protectively to his chest. Catelyn drew in a quick breath, but Mella didn't even look at her. Her attention was solely focused on Nolan, who had begun to sweat profusely despite winter's chill setting in.

"I…"

"Would you like to see the inside of a sky cell?" Mella inquired quietly, taking a step closer to the shaking maester. She didn't care how ruthless she seemed, how far she pushed. Someone had tried to take her son from her, and that was an unforgivable crime. A newborn babe needed his mother.

"It was Baelish, it was!" Nolan burst out, tears welling in his eyes. He was clearly a nervous and jittery man, something Mella had counted on when she'd begun to push him relentlessly. She had hoped that he would break, and she had been right. "He…he wanted the child, thought to curry favour with Cersei Lannister by handing him over…"

"He what?" Robb snapped, stroking Willem's dark hair. He glanced over his shoulder at the guards that had accompanied them to the room upon hearing Mella scream, nodding decisively. "Arrest Lord Baelish and put him in a sky cell. He will stand trial and be punished for this. An attempt to abduct a royal heir is a serious crime indeed."

Lord Umber nodded and grabbed Nolan by the collar, dragging him from the room. Only once they were gone, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors, did Mella relax. She raked a hand through her black hair and sighed heavily. Robb crossed over and put an arm around her, and Mella looked down at the now sleeping baby in his arms and smiled. Nothing would break their little family apart – and anyone who tried would meet a sticky end indeed.

"What do you mean, you're going to King's Landing?" Mella demanded of Robb as she paced the bedroom. Willem was fast asleep as the rays of morning light peeked shyly through the windows, but Mella had not gotten much rest since the abduction attempt. Lord Baelish had been safely sealed away for now, and she planned to speak to him when she had gathered her strength. She would not appear before this man weak and soft.

"Exactly that." Robb raked a hand through his dark curls, appearing frustrated and displeased. "The time is right for us to strike, and although you are a formidable force in your own right, you are still a woman."

"What is that meant to mean?" Mella asked, turning on him, hands balling into fists. Despite her gender, she thought Robb had always seen her as an equal. It was through her royal blood he laid claim to the Iron throne, and it was through his military prowess that she would get there in the end. "Do you not think I should be there when you conquer the city? You think I should remain here in the Eyrie?"

"I did not mean it like that." Robb sighed, moving forward and catching her by the shoulders, planting a quick kiss to her forehead. "You are my wife and my Queen and I love you with all my heart. But right now, your place is with our son. I have no doubt in my mind that you don't need me here to bring Lord Baelish to justice. But you are a new mother, and the birth has taken its toll. You will be with my mother and my sister, you won't be alone."

Mella closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. She knew that she was overreacting, that she was snappy due to a lack of sleep and recent events. Robb was right, of course. It was silly to think she had a place on the battlefield. Her war was fought in the political arena, and there was no need for her at the moment. Once the fighting was done, she would come to King's Landing to help with the clean-up. For there was no doubt in her mind that Robb had the ability to win this war, after all this time with a quick, decisive strike.

"I will miss you," she said, her voice wavering slightly and revealing her more emotional side. "Our Willem will miss you too."

Robb leaned in to capture her lips with his. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Septa Emmaleigh – who had replaced Nolan in caring for Mella and Willem, and who knew a great deal about childbirth and its after effects – said it would be a month yet before Mella could make love to her husband, and even then she would need to be careful. But she didn't want that, not yet. For now she was content to simply be in his arms with her lips to his.

"I will miss you both as well." Robb tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "You are recovering. I see that you are walking around and Emmaleigh has taken your stitches out. You are strong, Mella."

"When do you leave?" Mella asked. She knew that although she may not like it, she had to accept Robb's decision. She would miss dearly, but they had been apart before and their relationship would endure the test of time.

"Three days." Robb kissed her cheek affectionately. "Just enough time to spend with my lovely wife and adorable son."

She was the shadowcat again, stalking through the treacherous terrain of the Vale mountains. Only she was higher up than any would normally dare venture, where blizzards raged and where no prey could surely be lurking. There was a hunger in her belly, but it was not for food – it was to show her, show the female one with the dark mane and the cub inside her. With vague amusement, Mella realised that she was experiencing the shadowcat's thoughts on herself. But what precisely did the creature want to show her?

The shadowcat slipped into a tunnel, and Mella followed where it – she – looked. It was a winding path she could not hope to find even if she knew the mountains well, through dark caves and narrow tunnels. As the journey continued, the air seemed to get ever colder, until even the thick-furred creature was shivering.

Then the shadowcat prowled into the last cavern. Mella knew because of the feeling of satisfaction that flowed through to her. They had at last found what it had wanted her to see, although at first she did not know what was before her. It looked to be a huge lump of large, misshapen ice, although why it was inside the cavern and piled upon the ground, she could not tell.

It moved. An eye of crystalline blue opened and Mella suddenly realised what she was seeing. It was something impossible, something that could not be real. The ice-coloured creature raised itself up from the ground, and a clinking alerted her to the rusting chain around its claws, one fastened to each limb. It was only when it unfurled its wings, flinging icicles across the cavern, that she knew it was true. She knew what this ancient, impossible creature was.

There was an ice dragon imprisoned in the mountains.