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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 22: XIX: Duty
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this is so late, I got back so late last night that I just went right to bed. Right now I just want to get this up and posted to you before I head to work, so if you're wondering where your replies to reviews are - I don't have the time, sorry! But, thank you to everyone who reviewed, seems Jaime's potential excursion to Winterfell has piqued the interest of a lot of you. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one, and I should be back to usual Saturday posting this weekend.
:)
XIX: Duty
Myrcella
Receiving word that Robb was a mere day away had put Myrcella in high spirits as soon as the letter had been placed before her by the Maester at breakfast. He also had another letter for her, sealed with a lion. Only two people had written to her so far with that seal, her mother and her Uncle Tyrion. Given that she was in such a good mood having read Robb's words, she was unwilling to risk souring it by snapping the second seal. There was a good chance it was from her mother, and so she just tucked it beneath her cloak and decided to forget about it for the day. She had more pressing things to deal with, such as overseeing the delivery of supplies to the keep, and making sure a feast was organised for Robb's return.
He would not want a big fuss, and so she was determined just to have two courses. Never would there have been anything so frugal at the Capitol, even during the last winter, but, as Myrcella kept reminding herself, the North was different. She took a sip of her spiced milk, before turning her head and meeting Lady Stark's gaze. Her good-mother smiled encouragingly, and Myrcella was glad of the gesture, returning it easily. Today would be the first day that Myrcella took on the duties of the Lady of the Household entirely by herself. Over the last week she had been doing more and more, but Lady Stark had always been there, a step behind her, steering her gently in the right direction whenever she became unsure of herself.
Today it would all be on her, and she was more than a little nervous at the prospect. She hoped it would go well, that she could manage it by herself. Not just for herself, but for Robb as well. She wanted him to see the progress she had made, she wanted him to know that she cared enough for Winterfell to ensure it was run smoothly. Lady Stark had done it all for so many years, and while she never complained, Myrcella couldn't help but imagine that she might be grateful for a lighter load of duties. It was the least she could do after how nice her good-mother had always been to her, even when she had first arrived and been so sure that all the Starks would despise her. Lady Stark had always been kind, perhaps it was her kindness that had encouraged it in the others. It certainly could not have done any harm.
Myrcella drained her milk in the next moment, resisting the urge to call for more. She had been unable to drink enough of it over that past week, but she was always unwilling to ask the servants any more than she needed to. Likely they would roll their eyes and tut at one another behind her back the moment she asked them to heat some more for her. She would just wait for luncheon, and hope that plenty was warmed so she could have more than one cupful. After rearranging the skirts of her dress she rose up to her feet, pulling her shawl from the back of her chair and draping it around her neck. "Where are you headed first?" Lady Stark asked her with a smile.
"I am going to check on the builders in the gardens before the supplies come," Myrcella told her.
"Don't linger too long, the sky looks like it is threatening snow," Lady Stark advised her, and Myrcella hummed her agreement.
"I will be quick about it," she smiled, "and I will likely see you all at luncheon." The others all murmured their farewells at her words, and she moved along the back of the high table and stepped down off the dais. To the door she went, crossing the entrance hall and bringing a smile to her face for the guards. They gestured to the door of the keep, and she inclined her head, to which they sprang into action to open it up for her at once. A gust of cold air buffeted into the hall and she shuddered slightly. "Thank you, gentlemen," she inclined her head to them again, and they bowed her through the door, those stationed outside bowing their heads to her as well as she stepped out. The heavy doors were closed at once behind her, and Myrcella didn't linger, her steps brisk as she made her way across the courtyard and towards the gardens.
Thankfully the builders were working on the wall by the gate so she didn't have to go far from the keep. Already the wind was swirling viciously around, freezing her cheeks despite how high she had pulled her shawl. One of the men looked up as she approached, alerting the others to her presence. She felt her cheeks flush warm as they all bowed lowly to her, hoping they wouldn't notice her blushes. Likely her cheeks were already reddened from the raw wind. "My queen," the man in charge greeted her, and she smiled at him.
"I only came to see that you have everything you need," she told him, "though I can see you have made good progress. There cannot be much left to finish now."
"No, my queen," he agreed with her, "not much at all. With luck we will be finished before those clouds deliver the snow they seem to be promising. Though, we have no other work to be getting on with once there is a break in the weather." He was looking at her hopefully, and she was loath to tell him that she could offer him no more work. She knew that he and his men would need coin more than ever now that winter was well and truly setting in. Likely they all had families, hungry mouths to feed and keep warm.
"I myself cannot offer you anything else, but," she continued before he could look too disappointed, "the King will return tomorrow, and I believe he may have something for you. Perhaps we could schedule an audience with him?"
She tried not to feel too pleased with herself when she saw the look of delight spread across his face. He readily agreed to meet with Robb, and Myrcella promised she would inform him of it as soon as he returned. Likely it wouldn't quite be the first thing she said to him, but she determined to remember to tell him about it. Hopefully he would allow them to begin work on expanding the stables or the stores. She had seen the accounts with Lady Stark and the steward a few days previously, and they seemed healthy enough to allow such work. Robb hadn't mentioned any desire to spend the coin elsewhere, so she was hopeful that the builders would remain happy with her after their audience with him. She finally made her way from where they were working, their thanks still ringing in her ears as she made her way back to the keep.
Overseeing the delivery of the supplies turned out to be a surprisingly easy job. In fact, it seemed to Myrcella that she didn't have to do anything at all. The various tradesmen delivered the goods to the entrance hall, and the servants set about making sure they were taken to wherever they were stored. Myrcella just stood at the side of the steward while he checked each item off his list, wondering what in the name of the Gods she was needed for. Lady Stark had told her it was an important part of her weekly duty, and so Myrcella had been expecting a little more. So far all she had done was exchange pleasantries with each trader who came up to the keep with their goods.
The candle-maker had told her happily that his wife was expecting another child. She had congratulated him warmly, and after a glance at Beron, decided to add another silver stag to his payment. The man had been even more delighted at that, thanking her profusely before making his way from the keep. Beron had told her in an amused undertone that she ought not to have done that, telling her that all the traders would be claiming their wives with child once they got word of it. Myrcella had told him in return that she thought the candles looked to be of excellent quality, and worthy of an extra coin. He had chuckled at that, and Myrcella felt rather pleased with herself that she had built up some kind of friendly rapport with the steward. It was best this way, especially if she was going to continue conducting duties on her own.
Finally, the last delivery came, three men bearing produce from the glass gardens. There was a little more than originally ordered since Myrcella was organising a welcoming feast for Robb and his returning men. The three that had brought the produce didn't seem to mind though, their cheeks rosy and their smiles easy as she spoke with them a while. Eventually the produce was all taken down to the kitchen stores, and the men departed the keep in a cheery manner. The guards closed the doors firmly behind them, and Myrcella was grateful the stream of cold air was finally cut off. All the doors leading off the entrance hall had been closed for the afternoon, so not to let all the heat out of the keep while the delivery was in progress. Now they could be opened again, and hopefully the entrance hall would soon reclaim some of its warmth.
"Well, that is us done for the day, my queen," Beron said, rolling up his list of supplies and tucking them beneath his robes and furs.
"I wonder that I ought to have done more to help," Myrcella said, biting on her lower lip, "it seemed I just stood here all afternoon whilst the men did all the hard work and you checked off the list."
"Your presence was invaluable, my queen," he told her, and she raised a brow sceptically.
"Was it?" she asked him in an amused tone, and he smiled widely.
"The reason it is so important for you to be here, is so that the Lady of the Household is seen by the tradesmen," he told her, "it is a little thing, but it cheers them to have a little contact with nobility. Usually they would only ever see their lord or lady in a formal setting. Of course, I could easily have overseen this without you, but the candle-maker would not be leaving this keep to spread the word of the kind-hearted queen if I had now, would he?"
"I was here to please the people," Myrcella said with a slight laugh, it was so obvious now that Beron had said it. All she had done all afternoon was speak to each person who had come up to the keep with supplies for them.
"It is a little thing, but if they know their efforts are appreciated by their rulers, then they are far more and contented and happy," Beron elaborated, "after all. Is that not what we all want, a little appreciation?"
"You are very well appreciated, Beron," Myrcella told him knowingly, and he smiled sheepishly. "Now, if we are done for the day, I will not keep you any longer," she continued, and he stepped back from her and bowed lowly.
"My queen," he straightened up, inclining his head to her once more before turning and making his way down the hallway towards his own quarters. Myrcella smiled slightly as she watched him go, thinking on what he had said to her. Hopefully he was right. Hopefully the candle-maker and the other traders would have some nice words to say about her when they returned home to their families. Even just one kind word would be appreciated by her. Perhaps some of it would even filter through to the servants.
It was wishful thinking, but it would do no harm to be a little optimistic. Myrcella sighed, turning on her heel and deciding she would go to the library and sit with Bran for a while before dinner. Rickon might well be there too. He was struggling with his history, and the Maester had ordered him to spend more time reading up on it. At least his numbers had improved, Lady Stark had been despairing of him, but he seemed to have finally grasped them. Myrcella had helped him where she could, but she was hardly an expert when it came to sums. She much preferred helping him with his history, it had been something that had always fascinated her.
Before she could turn down the hallway that led to the library though, she heard the door of the keep open again and turned to see who else had come. It was Thom, the baker, a woman following in behind him. Both of them carried a box, and Myrcella smiled, knowing what the contents would be. She had asked Lady Stark what Robb's favourite treats were, and she had told her that he had always enjoyed apple and cinnamon cake. Armed with that information she had asked Thom to bake some when he had come up to deliver the bread one morning. He had promised to do so, and now it appeared he had delivered on his promise. As she approached he bowed his head, as did the woman who had come to a halt at his side. "My queen," Thom greeted her, "I have what you asked for, and a little something else, if it please you."
"I am sure it will," she smiled easily at him, "though I do hope you did not go to any trouble. There must be more than enough for you to contend with, given how many more have arrived in Winter Town in the past days." It was true enough, more and more houses were occupied in the surrounding town now. In fact, it was difficult to find a house where smoke was not rising up from the chimney.
"It was no trouble, my queen," he told her, "it is a plum tart, freshly made. I hope it is to your liking."
"I cannot wait to try it," Myrcella told him. Plums were not her favourite fruit, but Thom had gone to a lot of effort, and so she determined she would have some for her sweet course tonight. She would have the tart served up at the high table, between them all she imagined there would only be crumb left by the end of the night. "Thank you very much for bringing these," Myrcella said, holding out her hands to receive the box from him.
"It was no trouble," Thom said, "can I aid you, my queen?" he asked, as she turned towards his female companion.
"I am sure the other will balance on top," she responded, but one of the guards was already approaching.
"Allow me, my queen," he said, and before she knew it, he had taken the box from her, and from the woman. "Would you like them delivered to the kitchens?" he asked her, and she nodded.
"Yes, thank you," she confirmed, and he bowed his head.
"Any instruction?" he asked next. She instructed him to ask that the plum tart be served tonight, but that the apple cake be saved for the King's return. He promised to pass on her instruction, before turning to do as he was bid, Myrcella calling out her thanks again to his retreating back.
"Forgive me, we have not been introduced," she smiled at Thom's companion when she turned her attention back to them.
"Forgive me, my queen," Thom was speaking again at once, "this is my wife, Ada." Ada dropped down into an elegant curtsey at the introduction, her cloak parting slightly as she did, to reveal her rounded stomach.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my queen," Ada smiled as she rose back up to her feet, and Myrcella returned the gesture.
"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," she said, pleased at finally finding a woman who didn't fix her with a hard stare. "And, might I offer my congratulations," she nodded down towards Ada's stomach.
"Thank you, my queen," Ada said, bowing her head, and smiling again.
"Is it your first child?" Myrcella asked, keen to continue the conversation since the woman appeared warm towards her.
"It is our first," Ada answered her, "though, I already have two boys from my first marriage."
"Oh," Myrcella said, unsure of what else to say. It appeared her desire to continue speaking with Thom and Ada had led her to stumble upon a subject she sensed might be rather sensitive.
"He died," Ada said quickly, "during the war, but myself and my children are lucky indeed that Thom found us." There was clear affection in her tone, and her gaze tilted towards her husband, a softness in her eyes.
"Though I would insist that I am the lucky one," Thom said adoringly, and Myrcella's heart panged painfully for Robb. Tomorrow, she reminded herself, smiling serenely at the happy couple before her.
"Well, perhaps you are both lucky, to have found one another despite harder times," Myrcella said, and they both nodded their agreement.
"Myrcella!" Lady Stark called out behind her before either Thom or Ada could speak again, and Myrcella turned her head to smile at her good-mother.
"Lady Stark," she greeted warmly, her smile faltering slightly when she saw the slight look of panic in the older woman's eyes. "Is everything alright?" Myrcella asked anxiously, already thinking the worst. That word had come from Robb. That he was delayed. Worse, that something had happened to him.
"Of course," her good-mother's smile looked slightly forced, "I had just thought perhaps you would accompany me for dinner."
"We would not keep you any longer, my queen," Thom spoke up as Myrcella looked between Lady Stark and the young couple she had been happily conversing with.
"Oh, of course, I would not keep you either," she said quickly, "though I must thank you again, for the cake, and for taking the time to trouble yourself with my company. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ada."
"Thank you, my queen," Ada curtseyed again, and Myrcella wondered if she was imagining it, or if the woman was deliberately avoiding looking at Lady Stark.
"Yes, thank you," Thom reiterated, bowing his head before he placed his hand on the small of his wife's back and steered her towards the main door of the keep.
"Are you sure everything's alright, Lady Stark?" Myrcella asked her, a slight frown setting into her forehead as she watched her good-mother watch Thom and Ada's retreat.
"Of course," her good-mother assured her, though Myrcella would swear that she still looked rather strained. She searched in her mind for any reason why there might be a problem between her and the baker. As far as she could remember she had been perfectly pleasant to Thom when they had spoken with him last week. Perhaps it was Ada, then? Though, for the life of her, Myrcella could not think of any reason Lady Stark would have to hold animosity towards her. She seemed a lovely woman who had clearly had a hard time in her life, but was now making a happy future for herself. Perhaps she was just being paranoid. Lady Stark could be feeling the strain from any number of things. Likely it was just a coincidence.
"Shall we go into dinner then?" Myrcella asked expectantly, and her good-mother seemed to smile more easily.
"Yes, let's," she said, the usual warmth back in her tones as she took hold of Myrcella's arm and steered her towards the dining hall.
"We have plum tart for our sweet course tonight," Myrcella informed her good-mother as they ambled into the hall.
"That sounds just lovely," Lady Stark said, and Myrcella smiled.
"How did you get on today?" Lady Stark asked her as they settled themselves down at the high table.
"Well enough, I think," Myrcella said, once again making sure she smiled brightly at the servants and getting nothing but hard stares back.
"Ignore them," Lady Stark said as they bustled away again, "they will get used to you eventually. When I first arrived here they were just the same. Northerners are fiercely loyal, but they can also be stubborn and unforgiving. Try not to take it personally."
Myrcella smiled wryly. It was very difficult not to take it personally. She wondered if Lady Stark was being completely honest with her. There was no reason she could think of why the servants would take against her. She decided to push on and ask after a moment, it had been mentioned now after all, likely it would not be a big secret to stumble upon. "What cause did they have not to like you?" she asked, and her good-mother laughed slightly.
"I'm a southerner," Lady Stark told her, and Myrcella frowned.
"Surely -," she began, but Lady Stark cut across her to elaborate.
"Before me, no Lord Stark had ever taken a wife who was not of the North," her good-mother explained, "but Ned did, and afterwards he fought a war. The two were not implicitly linked, of course, but it meant I did not come here to Winterfell until over a year after our wedding. Robb was already born, so I imagined the people might be happy I had delivered them an heir."
"But they weren't?" Myrcella asked her, still unable to understand why the servants would have taken against her.
"They were at first," Lady Stark nodded, "but it wasn't long before building started on the Sept. You see, before Ned married me, there was no Sept here at Winterfell. He had it built for me so I could continue to worship my Gods. I suppose the people didn't like that, their lady not taking on the worship of the Old Gods. They do not have anything against the Seven, not really, nor those who worship them, but their way is the old way. I suppose it just took them a little getting used to. In the end I proved myself to them, I think."
Lady Stark smiled amusedly at the end, and Myrcella laughed slightly. She had seen the adoration that the people bestowed on her good-mother, it had never crossed her mind that it had not always been the case. Still, she could not help but think that it would be a lot harder for her to win them over. As though reading her mind, Lady Stark spoke up again. "It will take time," she said softly, "but they will not look unfavourably on you forever, not when they realise all that you are doing that is good. They are stubborn, as I said, but they are loyal to Robb. Once they feel you have earned it, they will be loyal to you too."
"But until then I suppose I just have to sit back and smile," Myrcella said wryly, and Lady Stark reached out to pat her hand affectionately.
"There are far worse things to endure, believe me," she said, her tone tinged with sadness, and Myrcella felt a pang of guilt for being so sullen about the servants not liking her. One glance at her good-mother in her usual black reminded her that she had lost a lot less than others during the wars. Everyone that she cared about still lived, thank the Gods.
"I'm sorry," Myrcella said sincerely, and Lady Stark nodded, a determined smile coming to her lips.
"Over eight years," she said, "and yet sometimes, it feels like he was taken from me yesterday. All this talk of the servants reminded me of a long time ago, that's all. You have nothing to be sorry for." Myrcella smiled, her turn now to reach for Lady Stark's hand and offer her some comfort. Before she could help it she was wondering if she would be the same. If she would wear black for the rest of her days if Robb was suddenly taken from her too soon. She almost shuddered at the thought, though the dining hall was perfectly warm. He would be back tomorrow, and she would have him in her arms again. She would not dwell on dark things, not when she had somehow managed to stumble upon such happiness.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! Robb is back next chapter, catch you at the weekend!
:)
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