11- Melantha
A hot, searing pain shot through Melantha's stomach and she stared frozen at the figure in front of her. He was no man, but she didn't know what he was.
Everything about him was pale and cold, including his blade, which seemed to freeze every part of her body.
He stared back at her, unfeeling as he twisted the blade inside of her.
She couldn't breathe, for the pain was too much.
Slowly, Melantha looked down at the blood gushing out of her swollen belly, back up at the creature. He opened his mouth.
When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the painted ceiling of her room, the screeching of the creature slowly fading away.
There was no pain, no cold, only the worry that had inhabited her chest for the past two moons.
Next to her, Maekar slept peacefully on his back, not a worry inside his head.
Melantha sat up on the bed and realized she was covered in sweat.
When she looked around, she saw a maid staring at her from the door. The girl seemed concerned.
"Pardon me, My Lady, but it is your wedding day."
Melantha stared at the young girl, blinked, then turned around and laid back down, pulling the sheets over her head.
Her cover was yanked off of her and she and Maekar groaned, wishing she could turn back time and freeze it on some moment far away from the one she was currently living in.
Someone grabbed her hands, and she allowed the maid to pull her up and guide her to the tub that had been placed there the night before.
She took off her chemise and got in, the water perfectly warm. She hadn't even heard the servants as they filled the tub.
She washed her hair on her own and got out of the water soon after that.
Silently, she sat by a window, where the maid laid her wet hair on top of a towel situated on the windowsill.
Another maid entered the room and began to apply a flower scented oil across her body. Melantha felt uncomfortable with the strange hands handling her but remained still, reminding herself the maid was only doing her job.
The sun shone down upon her head, its lazy heat lulling her back to sleep. She felt something cold brushing her hand and opened her eyes to find a small side table with food and drinks being laid out before her.
She smiled and thanked the servant before taking a small piece of bread.
She bit into it, but found herself unable to chew it, her stomach feeling like a solid rock inside her body, her lungs too heavy to expand.
Maekar walked up feigning innocence, and she faked blindness as the dog subtly stood on his hindlegs and stole a piece of ham.
She sat there while the maids moved about, packing her things to be taken all the way to her new chambers in Maegor's Holdfast, a piece of bread on her hand and the other inside her mouth. She focused only on watching the maids as they worked, and forced her mind to think of only that.
The door opened and Miriam walked in with her girls. They barely paid their respects before setting to work, pulling her up from her seat and undressing her again.
Her undergarments were all red with black thread, as opposed to her dress which was mostly black.
Melantha allowed them to do as they pleased hearing mostly the sound of her own heartbeat as they chatted away excitedly. It wasn't everyday that one got the chance to prepare a future princess.
Luda, the sweetest of them, brushed her hair back and braided it in the manner Queen Rhaella had tasked her.
Melantha remembered what Ashara had told her a few days prior: she wasn't the only woman who felt that way. She wasn't alone in her grief.
Somehow, that thought was enough to keep her hands from shaking.
Getting into the gown took much too long for her nerves. Everything was tied neatly, not a wrinkle in sight. The gown, although not too revealing, did hug her upper body nicely, almost like a second skin. The skirts fell down to her feet, and she prayed to the Old Gods to give her enough grace as to not trip over the black mass of fabric.
The sleeves went next, carefully attached to her shoulders until you couldn't even tell they were ever apart. They hugged her upper arms tightly, but then opened up and fell down to her knees, partly visible inside dyed a dark gray.
The dress felt almost too heavy, and she was thankful for having decided against the braided armor Ashara had drawn up for her. It would've been beautiful, but Melantha was sure she wouldn't have been able to stand up straight.
As she stepped into her shoes with the help of Luda, the door opened and the Queen walked in, two of her ladies behind her carrying a heavy looking fabric.
Queen Rhaella stopped in her tracks to stare at Melantha, a fond gleam to her eyes.
"Oh my,...I knew you'd look beautiful but…" She smiled then, approaching Melantha and taking her cold, sweaty hands into her grip. "I know it may not mean much coming from his loving mother, but Rhaegar will be a kind husband to you. Who knows? With some luck, you might even find yourselves in love. "
Melantha smiled but uttered not a word. Love was nice on the pages of the stories she'd read back home, but she had seen many people around to know it wasn't always pretty.
She had always been so transfixed on avoiding marriage that she had never considered falling in love at all, and she briefly wondered whether she was even capable of recognizing such feelings.
"I'm not allowed to witness the ceremony, but I wanted to give you this in person." The Queen nodded at her ladies and they stepped forward, displaying the thick fabric they carried.
Melantha swallowed back the tears as she saw the big direwolf stitched into the cloak.
"I believe your mother began the work, and I hope you don't mind my boldness but I wished to finish it myself."
Melantha felt overwhelmed by the gesture, and even though she was never too comfortable with the gesture, she threw her arms around the queen and hugged her as tightly as she dared. Slender arms wrapped around Melantha, and a loving kiss was placed upon her hair.
"Thank you." She whispered.
"You don't need to thank me dear; it was my pleasure."
Melantha pulled back and they stared at each other for one long moment. In that moment, Melantha swore to do what she could to bring the queen some comfort.
"Don't cry now." The queen said softly, pinching Melantha's cheek." No one wants to see a red-eyed bride."
Melantha laughed, nodding vigorously.
"I promise."
"I shall leave you now, but I'll remain with you and Rhaegar in spirit."
A kiss was placed upon her cheek, and with a small greeting to the servants, the queen left the rooms, her ladies placing the Stark cloak on the hands of Miriam's girls.
The heavy fabric was placed around her shoulders, almost sinking her down. It was warm, and she feared she would arrive at the Sept red faced and sweating like a pig.
She examined it closely, noticing no trace of Targaryen ancestry. Even though the Queen had been most kind and accommodating, Melantha would've expected her to try and sneak something related to the royal family's history into the cloak, but all Melantha could see were bits and pieces of Stark history.
She was well aware that her mother had begun her cloak when she was little. If she remembered correctly, Lyanna was a mere babe when Melantha first saw her mother working the fabric.
Lyarra Stark managed to finish the big direwolf on the back and was halfway through deciphering the history of their house when Benjen came into the world and she parted from it.
In all this time, Melantha hadn't given much thought to the cloak, and figured that if the occasion to wear it were to present itself, she'd just wear it half way done or not at all.
Although the work of her mother and the queen were both exquisite, she could tell where her mother ended and the queen started.
Queen Rhaella had carefully placed crowns upon the small, running direwolves, all of them representing Stark kings from the time before the dragons took Westeros.
It wasn't long before her father entered the chambers, dressed in dark colors and wearing a thick cloak held to his shoulders by two direwolves' heads.
He looked at her for a few seconds before telling her she looked pretty and offering her his arms.
Melantha stared at his arm like it was hot iron before taking a deep breath and slowly walking towards him, slipping her hand through his arm.
She forced herself to look ahead as they left the room.
"I don't want to do it." She wanted to say, but the look her father gave her indicated that he already knew what she was thinking, and they both knew the answer.
She couldn't go back home; there was too much at stake. This wasn't just about her freedom, this was about every person in the north, from all the men of the Night's Watch, down to every Lord and Lady in their castles, to the very last farmer and fishermen that fell under the protection of the wolf.
Perhaps, in some other time, in some other life, she could afford to not care about everyone else, and maybe she'd have choices. Maybe she would come to be with the prince anyways, but it'd be out of her own volition, not because of her father's political ambitions.
Melantha looked Lord Stark in the eye and the liquid storms of her eyes solidified into steel as she decided she'd do this for everyone…except for him and herself. She could be brave. She could be selfless.
She wouldn't be that scared girl who cried and fled when her intended turned cold towards her. She wouldn't be a Targaryen brooding mare either. If she couldn't remain in the shadows as she wished, she would make something out of her. What? She wasn't too sure yet.
But she would make it count.
Melantha extended her arm and laced it through Lord Stark's, allowing him to lead her down to the courtyard, where the horses awaited.
Everyone had tried to convince her to travel inside the safety of a carriage and she almost caved, until she finally stood in front of it and squinted her eyes.
What sort of Princess would she be if she hid from the people?
"Release this one and I shall ride it to the Sept."
"You will travel by carriage."
"I will not, father."
"Melantha, don't be stupid."
"Clean your ears well, old man. I shall ride on horseback to my husband. I believe it's due time that the small folk gaze upon a true northerner."
Lord Stark opened his mouth to speak but quieted when a shadow loomed behind his daughter.
Melantha turned to find ser Arthur holding the reins of her horse; the same one Rhaegar had lent her a few days prior. He smiled.
"No need to worry, My Lady. Ser Barristan and I will be riding as well, and the gold cloaks will walk by us."
She smiled, taking the reins from his hands and stepping up onto the horse with his help. She held still while two maids rushed to drape the dress and cloak around her. Some of the flower arrangements were taken from the carriage and hurriedly placed around the horse's neck. The creature remained indifferent to the energy around him.
Ser Barristan looked at Ser Arthur and nodded, planting himself ahead of Melantha, while Arthur got on his own horse and located himself a few paces behind the bride.
The gold cloaks formed on each side, and with the order of Ser Barristan, they began their streak across the city and towards the Sept.
The people had gathered to watch the bride pass by, and Melantha briefly considered smiling and waving at them but decided against it. They didn't look happy, they didn't seem to love her either. She was a stranger to them, one with far too many dresses and jewels adorning her.
She nodded as she passed, looking the people in the eye.
They were dirty, some of them so much so she wasn't sure if it would be possible to ever wash off. Their clothes either hung loose from their bodies or hugged them too tightly, but it was clear they were mostly well used. The streets were filthy and the smell was putrid as well. She could feel it all the way to the Maidenvault deep inside the Red Keep sometimes, but here it was much, much worse. It was truly an achievement to not hurl at the moment.
They were disgusting.
She thought of what awaited her after today, and she forced herself to look upon their faces, to look them in the eye and acknowledge their existence.
The worst of all was their eyes. She found many sorts of emotions in the ones close enough to distinguish, and most of them were not positive. Hunger, hatred, resentment, fear, defiance, judgment, and distrust shone like half a million raging stars at her, heading down from the sky to force her to see them.
Melantha wondered if the northern people were the same, if she had maybe never paid much attention to them. But then again, back home she had had her father's protection, so although the smallfolk were in her thoughts and she didn't view them as inferior, she hadn't had need of their favor until now.
As the horse neared the Sept, Melantha looked up at the long trail of stairs and the heavy looking door on top.
Would it matter whether she wasn't honest if it kept her alive? Ned always said that the lone wolves died, and Melantha wasn't too keen on being a young corpse.
Her family would leave soon, and she'd be surrounded by all sorts of creatures unknown to her. She'd have to become something else if she was to gather the strength to pull through this ordeal.
She would always wish to have turned around and fled to some far, forgotten corner of the world. She would always mourn the girl who dreamt of being a Maester and have a quiet, unimportant life; but at least she'd be alive to remember her.
4-Rhaegar
The doors opened and the sun blinded him, making it nearly impossible to distinguish his bride.
The room quieted as she slowly made her way down the stairs and across the aisle.
Rhaegar stood straight and kept his gaze on her, taking in the details as she neared.
The dress was primarily black. It was covered in deep, red leaves, which he supposed were meant to represent the leaves of the Weirwood tree. A necklace of rubies adorned her neck like droplets of blood, and more decorated her dark hair, which was braided back from her face in an intricate fashion.
She wore Targaryen colors, but it didn't make her any less of a wolf. He felt the corners of his lips lifting up at the sight.
They reached the dias upon which he and the septon awaited, and Rhaegar hurried to offer his hand.
Melantha parted from her father without so much as a glance, and when she looked up at him he was struck breathless by her. He always knew she was beautiful, it was plain to see, but he hadn't paid much attention to just how beautiful she was until that moment, donned in black and with blood in her hair.
He smiled at her, but she didn't return the gesture as they both stood side by side.
The Septon began his speech with a high pitched, quivering tone, and everyone held their breath to listen as their realm lost a prince.
Melantha turned her back to him and Rhaegar was careful of her hair as he undid the strings that held the cloak up on her back.
The direwolf of the Starks slid off her shoulders and he folded it in two before handing it to Lord Stark.
Rhaegar pulled off his own cloak, black with the crimson three-headed dragon, and wrapped it around his bride. Melantha's hands brushed his as she pulled the cloak further into her figure, and he held his breath as her cold touch sent a deep shiver down his spine.
His eyes centered on the back of her head and he swallowed, all too aware of the softness of her hair as he took it again, softly pulling it out from beneath the cloak and arranging it once again so it'd fall freely down Melantha's back.
He swallowed, his hands lowering with hesitance, and finally stepped back. He was was gambling everything away on this marriage. It didn't matter how soft Mel's skin looked if the world as they knew it came to an end.
She faced him again and they joined hands in front of the Septon, who tied a ribbon around their palms.
Rhaegar stated at their joined hands. Her skin was as soft as silk, and it felt nice in his. He couldn't recall, but he was sure this was the first time he came into contact with her skin. He stared at her profile, wondering if she felt so affected by something so silly as holding hands, but Melantha kept her eyes forward, a polite smile on her face and her eyes far away.
He pushed his disappointment back.
"Let it be known that Melantha of house Stark and Rhaegar of house Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be the one who seeks to tear them asunder."
Rhaegar frowned as he felt her hand begin to tremble on his grip. He stared at her face and squeezed it. He then leaned closer so he could whisper.
"Take a deep breath; I promise it'll be fine."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. She was scared, it was plain to see, and Rhaegar felt guilty for not noticing this sooner. He had spent the last weeks aware of his upcoming nuptials, but he hadn't felt any sort of alarm or anxiousness, at least not over being tied to her.
The blade on his hip seemed to burn but he ignored it, at least for that day.
Here she was, dressed up as the heart of the north, looking radiant and terrified. He wondered for how long she had felt this way and his heart constricted. He should've been much kinder from the beginning.
"I'm right here with you." he said, so low he doubted she could hear it.
Still, her eyes searched his face and she nodded once, acknowledging him. Her grip on his hand tightened.
"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."
Their faces were already set upon each other, but their bodies turned. Rhaegar took her other hand, his thumb running over the back of it in a soothing manner.
His lips parted, and he waited for her before they began, in unison:
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…"
"I am his, and he is mine…"
"I am hers, and she is mine…"
"From this day, until the end of my days."
Melantha took a deep breath, and Rhaegar felt something shifting in the air as they finished their vows. He knew then, somehow, that this was right.
This was as right as it could ever be.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." he said, still not looking away from her.
He leaned forward, closed his eyes and pressed their lips together. They were soft and warm, and her breath smelled of peaches and it made his entire body tingle.
Rhaegar pressed his hand to her cheek and forced himself away before it was deemed too lewd for the public. He watched as his wife's eyes fluttered open. He wished he could read into her thoughts and know what was going on inside her head. Instead, he ran a finger down her flushed cheek and turned to the cheering crowd.
He offered Melantha his arm and together, they walked down the stairs.
Melantha
The bells rang and the people clapped as they stepped outside once more. They waved at them as they descended.
she could see Rhaegar watching her from the corner of her eye, but she focused on hiding the heavy sinking of her heart and smiled, her hand moving in a gentle wave as if it wasn't being held down by golden shackles encrusted in jewels.
She scolded herself and forced her mind into thinking she was happy.
This was all that she wanted.
Maybe she could convince herself with some time.
They stepped into the streets, where the people had been given white and red rose petals to throw at them.
Melantha looked around and she approached a small girl who was looking at her from behind her mother's tattered skirt with stars in her eyes.
"Hello! How do you do?" she asked in a soft voice, kneeling in front of the girl.
The girl stared, wide eyed, lips shut tight until her mother gave her a shove.
"Answer the princess, Ruby!"
"I'm doin' fine, M'Lady." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mel smiled, forcing her nose not to wrinkle and endure the stench..
"Are you excited about the celebrations, Ruby?" the girl merely nodded sheepishly. "Which aspect are you most excited for?"
"The food."
She softened, noticing how skinny the girl was. Her collar bone protruded so much she was sure a small hit would break it into tiny pieces.
Mel thought of the food she had snuck to Maekar that morning, and all the rest that would no doubt be thrown away somewhere.
She shook her head.
"I'd like to give you a present." she said instead, her hand coming up to her hair and trying to pull out one of her hairpins.
Rhaegar, who had followed silently with a hand subtly resting on the pommel of his sword, placed his hand on top of hers.
"Allow me." He said, and carefully took out one ruby studded hairpins, making sure not to pull at the curls.
Melantha took it and offered it to the young girl.
"Here, a ruby for Ruby. It may not grant you much, but I'd like you to have it. You may sell it if it pleases you, so long as it gives you a little help."
The child stared at the ruby, clearly never before having seen one up close.
"Thank you, M'Lady." She answered sweetly.
Melantha smiled and stood up just as Ser Arthur approached.
"Maybe I should escort the child and her family home safely, Your Grace." He said, and upon seeing the confusion on her face he leaned forward and whispered. "If we let her go alone someone will steal the jewel. You wouldn't want the child to be hurt over it."
Melantha nodded. She hadn't thought about that.
"Yes, thank you, Ser. Stay safe."
She turned to her now husband.
"What 's wrong?"
His eyes were calculating as they searched her face. He shook his head.
"Nothing." He offered his arm to her. "Let us go. We shouldn't keep our guests waiting."
He guided her towards his horse under the gaze of the people, and came to a stop in front of the animal.
"I hope you don't mind riding with me."
"Not at all."
She supposed it would look good to the common folk and the nobles alike to see them ride together towards the Red Keep as husband and wife, north and south united. It'd probably make for a good song or two.
Rhaegar placed his hands on her waist and even through the fabric they were so warm it made her gasp. She looked up as his grip tightened and the world quieted around them. For a moment, all she could see were his pretty eyes.
She blinked, and found herself falling against Rhaegar's chest, face pressed into the red, three headed dragon sewn into the fabric of his doublet as a searing, heated pain shot through her body and tears filled her eyes.
People were shouting around her, Rhaegar the loudest of them all as he held her tightly against his chest, one of his hands pressing against her side, the other tangling in her hair, keeping her head pressed against him so she couldn't see.
"Up there! On the roofs!"
Melantha could hear the panic of the people as they shouted and ran, the sound of armor rushing everywhere. Briefly, she spotted what looked like a circle around her and Rhaegar. Red and black cloaks filled her limited vision, along with red dragons carved into dark shields.
"Mel! MEL!" Ned sounded closer and more frantic each time he repeated her name.
She couldn't think. She couldn't move. All she could do was hold on tight to her husband's clothes and try not to breathe too deeply for fear of worsening the pain. "Arthur, find him and bring him to me! Ser Barristan, you're with me!" Rhaegar's lips brushed her ear. "You're alright, I promise. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, you're alright. I'm going to make it alright, I promise. I'm so sorry."
She couldn't even nod to reassure him, she didn't dare to make a move aside from gripping him with all her might.
"I need you to stay awake and I need you to breathe. I'll take you to the maesters. It'll hurt but I'll make it better, I promise."
A whimper of pain was all the answer she could give.
"I'm sorry. One, two, three."
She screamed as he lifted her up and sat her sideways on the horse. She felt him settling in behind her, gripping the reins with one hand and her with the other.
Melantha looked down and her breath caught in her throat as she saw a long arrow sticking out of her side, her gown now covered in blood.
"Try not to touch it; we don't want it to move." Rhaegar said, commanding the Kingsguard and a few members of the city watch to surround him and his bleeding bride.
Lord Stark rode up to them, red in the face and spitting curses.
"I'll take my men after the scum who did this!"
"We need him alive."
"Oh, I can't promise that much, boy, but I promise he'll regret having been born." He said, gray eyes set hatefully on his bleeding daughter. "NED! Take Lyanna back to the keep! UMBER! WITH ME!"
The northern men weren't truly equipped for battle, but Melantha knew they wouldn't care. They had hurt their Lady, and they had done so on her most special day.
Winter truly arrived in King's Landing that day.
Rhaegar commanded the horse to move forward as the people were forced to make room to let them pass.
"Have the men you can spare escort the guests safely back to the Keep, Barristan."
Melantha cried loudly as they galloped up the street, all the yelling indistinguishable to her.
Her heart beat way too fast, there was little air in her lungs and she was being burnt from inside out.
"My Prince, allow me to call on my nephew. " a new voiced joined, strained by the commotions.
"Whatever for, Ser?"
"The end of the arrow is a strange color. It could be poisoned, and he knows poison."
"And he'll want to save the woman who robbed his sister of a marriage?"
"In Dorne we don't blame girls for their father's machinations. He will help."
There was a beat of silence. Melantha would've accepted anyone's help if it meant her pain would go away.
"Fine, bring him right away, Ser."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Rhaegar looked down as Melantha looked up, his eyes were darkened and frantic.
"I don't want to die." she knew it was her voice that spoke those words, yet she couldn't feel the way her lips made the motions to do so.
Something in his gaze broke.
"You won't. And if you did, I'll fetch you from the afterlife myself; I'll trade places if I have to." He said solemnly.
She believed him and closed her eyes against his neck. He smelled of flowers.
Melantha did her best to keep quiet, to reign in her pain, but she wasn't always successful. Every time a sound of complaint left her lips, she would receive a kiss to the top of her head and an apology from her husband, who reassured her that she'd be alright.
There was chaos on the streets and guards went ahead to make room for them to pass, and the mayhem didn't quiet as they arrived at the keep.
Rhagear jumped off his horse and gently took Melantha in his arms.
"MAESTERS! FETCH THE MAESTERS! CHECK EVERY SINGLE GUEST WHO COMES THROUGH THE GATES! LOCK UP MY MOTHER AND BROTHER! FETCH THE FUCKING MAESTERS OR I'LL HAVE THEIR HEADS!"
Melantha was annoyed by the sound, but other than that, she felt quite tired and in need of some rest, and Rhaegar's chest was so warm and his arms felt so nice around her. She snuggled further in, the sharp pain of the arrow still stuck inside her dissipating.
"No! No, no, no,no, no! Don't fall asleep, Mel! It'll be alright. We're almost there."
She opened her eyes just as the sky went from blue to red, to blue, and then red again. She winced as they began to ascend the stairs.
He looked down at her with a furrowed brow, and though she was still scared, she didn't find it in herself to try to keep her brain functioning.
"You know, I think I dreamt of this."
The world went from purple to black.
A/N: Sorry again to keep everyone waiting. I just kept re-writing this chapter over and over and ended up hating it every single time. I still don't like it, but I guess I have to move on. I'll probably come back to revisit it some other time and try to make it more decent.
This was going to feature Lyanna's pov too but since I changed the way in which Mel got attacked I decided to keep Lyanna's thoughts for another chapter. I'm excited to write from her perspective tho.
Let's pray to the one true god of writing, Brandon Sanderson, so that he may give me the strength to not take so damn long to update. Amen.
Have a good day everyone! ? ﾟﾒﾕ?