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Wolf Pact by DizzyDG
 TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Family & Romance, [Robb S., Myrcella B.], Words: 163k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Dec 24, 2015 Updated: Sep 13, 2018865Chapter 18: XVI: Night Calling
A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're all well! Hope you enjoy this new chapter, and finally some insight on the dragons haha!
Boramir: Thank you! Yes, indeed, everyone needs some time out now and again, even kings. Oh yes, Robb would do well to be careful if they do visit the Capitol, for exactly the reasons you stated. There will be a chapter at the Capitol in a few chapters time, so you will see then how things are progressing with Cersei's plan.
imran: Not my intention. Will absolutely never happen in any of my fics.
Right-ho folks, on we go!
:)
XVI: Night Calling
Robb
The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils as he screamed for his men to get back. For the archers to regroup and aim up at the dragons again. One had already fallen to what seemed like a thousand arrows, its scaled body lay sprawled out on the battlefield, along with thousands of men from both sides. The Targaryen had brought an army of Unsullied with her, and while he and his men, along with the southern forces, were more than a match for them, she had also brought with her three dragons. They were not quite as huge as had been feared, but they were big enough to even the fight. Robb choked a little on the vile stench that was hanging in the air, tightening his grip on his sword as the two remaining dragons swooped down once more. A volley of arrows shot towards the pair of them, and their screams echoed horribly through the dusk.
"Notch again!" Robb bellowed, cutting down an Unsullied who staggered towards him brandishing a lance. The man had clearly been wounded, and it wasn't entirely an even match, but Robb considered it more of a mercy to end his life. Likely he would have died in agony otherwise. "Fire!" he screamed at his archers, hearing the call echoed through the various garrisons. Thousands more arrows flew up into the air, and the green dragon seemed to bear the brunt of it, snarling and snapping and hissing as it flew limply towards the ground. "Easy!" Robb cautioned, as several men looked as though they were about to charge at the thing. He could see men advancing from all sides, and the dragon sent out a stream of flames that he could feel the heat from where he stood over two hundred feet away. Screams of agony accompanied the inferno, and a third volley of arrows was sent towards the wounded animal.
This time he knew it would be fatal, the dragon's head sagging to the ground and a dozen or so lances being thrown at the beast's neck. The one remaining dragon screamed in what Robb could only describe as fury as its brother lay defeated on the battlefield. "Concentrate all your fire on that one, we need to bring it down!" Robb heard the command shouted from somewhere nearby, and he could not disagree with it. There were men still engaging with the Unsullied, keeping the horde back from the garrisons of archers who were aiming for the skies once more.
"Your Grace!" the warning was too late, the ground shaking and almost throwing him off balance as he whirled around. The final dragon had landed mere feet behind him, its eyes wild and jaws snarling. It was not the sight of the beast that took Robb aback though, it was the sight of the woman sat on its back.
Almost as though in slow motion she screamed out something in a language Robb could not understand, and he had less than a second to throw himself to the ground. The flames shot out so close to him that he could feel himself growing unbearably hot in his armour. For a moment he thought of the grandfather he had never known, the knowledge of how he had died making him want to retch. Thankfully the flames ceased, and Robb forced himself to push up from the ground, readjusting his grip on his sword. Men were advancing on all sides of the dragon, archers and swordsmen alike, but Robb was the closest to it, and he could see where to ram the sword. The underside of the dragon's jaw. Simple if it weren't so damn foolish. Before he could think he went for it, as a hundred or so arrows flew into the opposite side of the beast.
The dragon screamed, and lashed out so quickly that Robb didn't have a moment to react. Pain ripped through his left shoulder and his screams mingled with that of the dragon. Snarls reached his ears next and he knew it were Grey Wind. He could hear his men screaming at him to fall back, but the blood was pounding in his ears as he somehow pushed himself up from the ground. The blood was hot and sticky running down his arm, but he still had his sword, and one precise hit could end this without any more of his men being burned alive. Grey Wind moved himself around, snarling and snapping at the dragon's feet, driving the beast wild as it couldn't move quickly enough to snap its jaws around him. Robb staggered forward, gripping his sword more tightly in his hand. He was almost afraid to look when he got closer, but somehow he managed to get himself into position.
A second later he thrust his sword upwards with all the strength he had left, feeling the blood from the dragon come pouring down over him. He gasped, his nostrils full of the metallic scent, as the great animal reared up on its hind legs, its wings flapping feebly for a moment before it collapsed down dead with a mighty crash. Robb gasped air into his lungs, feeling hands finding him, mouths uttering questions that he could not quite decipher. "The rider," he managed, "the woman. Where is the woman? The Targaryen?" Voices answered him but he could not comprehend them, moving forward with insistent hands supporting him. Vaguely he heard the calls for the Maester, but he shrugged away those who tried to insist on leading him away from the battlefield. He had to know what had become of the woman.
Eventually they stopped trying to persuade him to leave, merely supporting him as he sought her out. Around the body of the great, black dragon they went, seeing the ground littered with countless bodies as they moved. Robb looked out for any hint of silvery blonde, finally finding what he was looking for. He increased his pace, those supporting him cautioning him against punishing himself further. He ignored them, moving to the woman's side. She was lying face down on the ground, and Robb somehow managed to find the words to tell them to roll her over. There didn't appear to be a mark on her as they moved to do his bidding. No arrow. No sword wound. Likely the fall had killed her. He nodded to his men, and they turned her over in one swift move –
Robb woke with a strangled cry, his chest drenched with sweat as he gasped air into his lungs. "Myrcella?!" he turned over in the bed, expecting to see her sleeping peacefully at his side. The other side of the bed was empty though, and he pushed himself up, breathing hard. "Myrcella?!" he repeated in a panic. Where was she? He tried to calm his breathing, telling himself it was just a dream. Just a dream. He ran his hand through his damp curls and tried to think straight. He had not dreamt about that day for so long. Not in so much detail, and never with that ending. That wasn't how it ended. It ended with him finding unseeing violet eyes, not green ones. Not Myrcella's. "Myrcella?!" he almost choked on his wife's name as he remembered her still and unmoving in his dream. It wasn't Myrcella, it was Daenerys. It was the Targaryen. Myrcella is safe, nothing can hurt her.
If that were true then where in the name of the Gods was she? Why was she not curled up in bed with him? His hands went to scrabble frantically under the blankets, feeling her side of the bed almost cold. In the next moment he was throwing the blankets and furs off himself and snatching up his robe. He went to the washroom first, knocking lightly on the door and calling her name softly. When he got no answer he pushed open the door to see it empty. Again he ran his hand through his hair, backing away from the washroom and turning to scan their bedchamber. She was not here. If she were then she would have answered him when he had called her name. Where was she? Gods. Oh Gods. He took deep, calming breaths, reminding himself yet again that it had only been a dream.
He was making for the door of their chambers before he could think on it anymore, almost running down the hallways, listening and looking out for any sign of his wife. Where would she go? He could not understand where she would go in the middle of the night. Vaguely he wondered if she would go down to the Sept, and he halted, trying to imagine if that was something she would do. She would often visit the Sept when he was in council, but she was not a particularly devout woman. He bit down on his lip, slowing his pace as he tried to decide whether or not he should go all the way down there and check. Before he could make up his mind though he heard her soft tones and whirled around. Rickon's chamber door stood slightly ajar, and he approached it, certain he could hear Myrcella's voice coming from within.
"…everyone gets bad dreams, Rickon," she was soothing his brother, "that does not mean you are weak or foolish." Rickon snuffled something in return that Robb could not quite make out, and he heard Myrcella hushing and soothing him again in response. "There is nothing to be ashamed of," she assured Rickon, and Robb moved himself slightly so he could peer through the gap in the door. She was sat at Rickon's bedside, smoothing her hand through his hair as she hushed him. He could plainly tell that his little brother had been crying, and it made his heart clench uncomfortably. "Would you like me to sing to you?" Myrcella asked, and Rickon nodded his head in response. "Very well," she continued stroking her hand through his hair for a moment before she began to sing softly.
It was a lullaby of a sort, a southern one, Robb imagined, as he had never heard it here in the North before. He had never heard anything like her sweet voice in all his life. Many a singer had entertained in the dining hall, but none had ever sounded as heavenly as she did. He backed away from the door, leaning against the wall before he slowly sank down to the floor outside Rickon's chamber. Listening to her beautiful voice calmed his still racing heart, chasing all lingering thoughts of that dream away from him. He leant his head back against the wall and exhaled in satisfaction as he listened to her. He didn't know how long he was sat there, allowing her voice to wash over him, but eventually she came to the end of her song. In the next moment he heard a slight shuffling from inside Rickon's chamber, and he rose back up to his feet as the door opened just wide enough for Myrcella to slip out.
She gasped on seeing him, her hand coming to her heart as she took in several deep breaths, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. He moved closer, pulling Rickon's door closed quietly before he gathered her up in his arms. "What are you doing out here?" she asked him weakly, clinging as tightly to him as he was to her.
"I woke up and you were gone," he said, "I didn't know where you were…I had to find you." He pressed fierce kisses to the top of her head as she seemed to clutch him even closer.
"I wasn't far," she soothed him, "I was a little restless, and then I heard Rickon crying out. I couldn't just leave him, Robb, he sounded so upset."
"You don't have to explain," he soothed her, finally relinquishing the tight hold he had on her. She stepped back slightly and looked up to meet his eyes, a frown creasing her brow slightly as she moved her hand up to cup his cheek.
"You're pale," she said worriedly, her hand moving from his cheek up to his forehead, her frown only deepening as she did so. "And clammy," she continued, "do you feel well?"
"I'm fine," he assured her, though she did not look completely at ease with his answer. "Rickon is not the only one who gets bad dreams," he elaborated, and a look of understanding crossed her features.
"What was it?" she asked him softly, and he shook his head.
"Just the war," he said dismissively, "nothing I have not dreamt before. I just panicked when I saw you were gone, that's all." She pressed herself back against him at his words, and he held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her and savouring the way she felt under his touch. Warm. Real. Alive. He breathed a sigh of relief against the top of her head before pressing a kiss into her hair. "Come on," he murmured, "let us go back to bed before we freeze."
She stepped away at his suggestion, lacing her fingers through his as they made their way back to their chambers. Once inside he regretfully let go of her hand so she could move round to her side of the bed. He went towards the fire, tossing several logs on top of the dying embers. With luck the fire would live until the morning, and it would be one less thing for the serving girls to worry about. He stared into the slowly rising flames for a long moment before he turned away and made his way back to bed, shedding his robe as he went. Myrcella snuggled up against him as soon as he shifted beneath the furs, and he held her close, stroking his hand through her hair. "Myrcella?" he asked softly, and she hummed in response. "Would you sing to me?" he asked her nervously, and she turned her head to press a kiss above his heart.
"Of course I will, if you want me to," she told him, and he pressed a kiss of his own to her forehead.
"Please," he confirmed, "I think it might help me dream of something good."
They were ambling round the gardens the next afternoon, and Robb could still not tear his mind entirely from his dream. Whenever his concentration lapsed he would see it, he would see Myrcella laying there still and unmoving, her eyes glassy as she stared unseeing up at the skies. It didn't matter how many times he told himself that it was the Targaryen, the image of his wife had replaced her and it made him feel sick. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?" Myrcella asked him, her hand clenching a little more tightly around his arm as they walked. He sighed in response, not knowing whether or not he should tell her. Whether she would think him foolish or not. "It's not me, is it?" she pressed him, her tone almost fearful.
"No, of course not," he soothed her, "it's just that…just that stupid dream playing on my mind, that's all."
"What was it?" she asked him tentatively, and he closed his eyes almost despairingly for a moment.
"The dragons," he told her, "I suppose it was more memory than dream, until the end at least." His tone was dark towards the end, and Myrcella squeezed his arm reassuringly in response.
"What happened at the end?" she asked quietly, and he sighed.
"When I found Daenerys Targaryen's body she was lying face down on the battlefield," he told her, pausing to take a breath, "only in the dream, when I asked my men to turn her over…well, when they turned her onto her back I didn't see her eyes, I -," he swallowed hard, "I saw yours."
"I was dead? In her place?" Myrcella asked him softly, and he nodded his head. "It was just a dream," she said at once, "what would I ever be doing out on a battlefield?" she tried to sound teasing, but her voice was laced with more than a little apprehension.
"I shouldn't have told you," Robb said at once, and she shook her head in response.
"No," she protested, "no, I am glad you told me. I want us to be able to share everything with one another, in the end."
Robb halted his steps then, Myrcella stopping beside him and looking up at him curiously. He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders and gazing into her bright, living eyes for a long moment. "I didn't know what losing you would do to me before," he told her quietly, "but I have some idea now, and I can't, Myrcella. I can't lose you, not now." Her eyes shone with tears at his words, her gloved hands coming up to caress his as her lower lip trembled slightly.
"I was afraid of you caring, deep down," she told him, and he frowned.
"Why?" he asked simply, and she smiled wryly.
"I will give you three guesses," she arched one brow, and he sighed heavily.
"Your mother," he spoke the two words like a curse, and she nodded her confirmation.
"She told me not to show you weakness," Myrcella told him, the first time she had truly opened up about her mother.
"And to her that means caring?" Robb asked, frowning deeply. Again Myrcella nodded, and he felt even more anger towards Cersei Lannister.
"I knew she was wrong even before the wedding," Myrcella explained, "I knew I cared for you, and I hoped you cared for me but..."
"But?" Robb urged her when she showed no sign of continuing with her explanation.
"But it is hard to ignore words from your own mother," she said, "when you have never been free to do anything for yourself. I had no choice but to look to her, she had been in my position – marrying a stranger for advantage. Because that is all this is to my grandfather, making me queen means he does not lose all hold on the North and the Riverlands. But you," she slipped her hand away from his and moved it to his cheek, "you turned out to be nothing like she prepared me for, and I thank the Gods for it."
"And you don't doubt me?" he asked her, not caring if he sounded needy. He had to know.
"No," she shook her head, "I never really did, she just…my mother, she…she knows just how to needle her way inside your head. For a time I let her, but I won't anymore, Robb, I promise." That was all he needed to hear, and he pulled her into an embrace in response, kissing the top of her head fiercely.
"You deserved better than life at the Capitol," he told her lowly, and she pressed herself closer to him for a moment before she pulled her head back so she could look up onto his eyes.
"I have better," she said firmly, "I'm here."
He couldn't help but kiss her on hearing those words, savouring her soft lips on his as they worked slowly together. When he could barely suppress his desire for her any longer he pulled back, meeting her eyes once more. "Did you write back to her the other day?" he asked her, and she shook her head.
"I ought to, I know that, especially since I replied to Tommen at once, but I just don't know what to say to her," she said exasperatedly. "She is so convinced that you must be awful to me, and that any caring you are showing is merely you playing a game with me so you can hurt me more in the future. Gods," she clenched her fists against his chest in anger, and he stayed silent, sensing that she hadn't finished. "She assumes to know all about our marriage, she assumes that I suffer at your hands," she continued, "and I swear she wants it to be true, she wants you to be a monster. Why would she want that? What kind of mother wants their child to suffer?"
"I don't know the answer to that," Robb told her honestly. It was the truth. He had no idea, because he was lucky, he had grown up with a mother who adored him and a father who doted on him. Not once had they ever made him feel anything but safe and loved. He could not imagine what it was like to grow up with an absent father and a mother that he could only describe as neglectful at best, and cruel at worst. Myrcella smiled slightly wryly, shaking her head before she lay her head against his chest.
He smoothed his hands through her hair and hoped that the action was calming to her. Somehow he sensed that she had let out more than she had meant to when talking about her mother, but he was pleased that she had opened up to him. He had been curious for a long time about what exactly she had had to live with at the Capitol, and he wondered whether he ought to push her any further or just leave it be. She was happy here. He had heard that from her own mouth. Did he really want to drag up all her horrible memories to satisfy his own morbid curiosity?
"Was she always like that?" he asked before he could stop himself, and she sighed heavily.
"When Joffrey was still alive she wasn't as bitter," Myrcella told him, "he was her golden prince and she doted on him. Tommen and I were just after thoughts, she left us to our nurses for the most part. Sometimes she would be smiling and happy, and we would cling to that, it made us feel like she loved us as much as she loved Joff."
"And then he died," Robb prompted her, and she nodded her head against his chest.
"She was wild with grief," she elaborated, "half the time she was drunk, and the rest of the time she was arguing with grandfather. He was so afraid of what she might do that he sent Sansa into my Uncle Tyrion's protection when he went out to treat with you. After the pact was made it was like I ceased to exist to her, she poured everything into Tommen. Well, she did when she wasn't drunk. I thank the Gods he did not let her fawning and indulgence spoil him the way it spoiled Joffrey. Grandfather attempted to send her back to the Rock after the war beyond the Wall, but she refused to leave. I don't think she will ever leave Tommen, not after Joff."
"As I said, you deserved better," Robb murmured against the top of her head, pressing more kisses to her hair.
"Don't go pitying me," Myrcella pulled back, a slight smile on her face. "I knew no better," she almost laughed, "it wasn't until I came here and saw the way your family is that I realised that mine wasn't…normal." He couldn't help but laugh himself at that, tucking a lock of her hair back behind her ear.
"If you think my family is normal then the Gods help you," he said, to which her giggles only intensified. He was glad to hear her laugh, to see the carefree expression on her face as her eyes lit up. It sounded as though she had never been allowed to be a child the way he and his siblings had, and so he quietly determined that she could be as free as he could allow her to be, now that she was under his protection.
"Come on," he regretfully pulled away from their embrace and wrapped his arm about her shoulder. "Let's get you back to the keep, I distinctly remember you promising to help Rickon with his sums this afternoon." Myrcella merely groaned at that, slipping her arm around his waist as they trudged their way through the snow towards the garden gate. Through it they went, reaching the bottom of the keep steps before Robb was hailed from the other side of the courtyard by Ser Rodrik. "You go on ahead," he urged Myrcella, "I will join you in the library in a moment." She agreed readily, and he pressed his lips to hers for a moment, before turning his attention to Ser Rodrik as she climbed the steps. Robb made his way to meet him in the middle of the courtyard, suppressing a groan as he saw the grim look on his face.
"What is it?" he asked in a resigned manner.
"Word from the Wall, your Grace," Ser Rodrik told him, "seems there has been a deserter." Robb sighed heavily at that, knowing it would mean him riding out. He kept to the rules his father had always taught him, though at times like this he wished he had someone else to deal his justice for him.
"Where?" Robb asked him, running his hand through his hair.
"Picked up by some of Lord Umber's men near the Long Lake. They are keeping him there at the village at the northern end. They have informed the Watch as well, I believe the Lord Commander will come down to meet you," Ser Rodrik told him, and Robb smiled slightly. At least there was some good news. He may have to reluctantly leave his wife and home again, but at least he would get to see his brother again before winter came.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed that, a bit more sharing between the two of them, though Robb will be disappearing for a while again!
:)
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