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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 25: XXII: Invisible Scars
A/N: Hey guys, new chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy! Just a heads up that next weeks won't be up until next Monday because I have other commitments. But, that's only an extra day, right? ;)
unnamed visitor: Thanks very much! I know Cersei is a worrying thought, but as much as she hates Robb, even she would never go as far as to harm Myrcella's child. She might not like who the father is, but the baby would still be part of her family. Anyway, thank you again, I'm glad you're still enjoying it!
Guest: Thank you! I know the servants are pretty bad, but there's no way to force them to like her. Even if Robb tried, all the niceties would be done falsely for show. He's letting them come around in their own time.
Guest: Thank you, haha! I love the term "baby Stark" too, definitely gives more hope than canon!
Guest: Thank you!
Guest: Thank you!
Boramir: Thank you! Yes, if anyone figures is out it would be her, but I think she'd keep quiet until it's all "official", once it is I think Myrcella should definitely spend some time with her to try and quell some of her fears. That letter is coming up in this chapter!
Right-ho folks, on we go!
:)
XXII: Invisible Scars
Robb
If he had ever been happier, he could not remember it. Despite the winter settling in around them and the temperatures constantly freezing, he had never felt warmer. Though there were things for him to worry about every day, when he was up here in this chamber with her, he could easily forget it all. The burdens of kingship all just fell away from him as soon as he stepped through the door. His wife stayed up here more often than not now, sewing and reading to occupy herself. She felt the cold more than the others, even more so than his mother. Even just walking down to the entrance hall would have her shivering. Whenever she did venture down for dinner he would have to ensure that she was well wrapped up in a cloak and furs.
At first it had worried him, but the Maester had come to check on her and assured him that she was in perfect health. Both her and the baby. He smiled widely as ever he did when he thought of the new life growing inside her. Even the dull task of looking over the accounts could not dampen his high spirits. The coffers were looking healthy from what he had seen so far anyway, and he reclined back in his chair, exhaling deeply in satisfaction. It had been nearly a moon since he had returned home from dispatching the deserter, and despite the worsening weather, everything seemed to be running well around him. Personally, he did not think he could ask for any more.
Behind him he heard Myrcella begin to stir, and he turned in his chair slightly so he could watch her rouse from her sleep. He had already laid his robe out on the side of the bed he had vacated, just ready for her to slip herself into when she woke. She opened her eyes in the next moment, her hands coming to them to rub the sleep from them. He smiled at her when she noticed him, and she returned the gesture lazily before stretching herself out. "Morning, you," he said softly.
"Hard at work again?" she asked him, stifling a yawn, and he hummed his agreement.
"A King's work is never done," he said teasingly, turning his eyes back to the accounts ledger he had been reading through. He could hear Myrcella shuffling behind him, no doubt getting herself up and out of bed. "Do you need anything?" he asked her absently.
"I'm fine," she responded. "Did I miss breakfast?"
"Yes, but I left you plenty," he answered her, and she thanked him. A moment later he heard the pull of a chair against the floor, and he could only assume she had settled herself at the table to eat. Despite often feeling nauseous during the morning hours she still had a healthy appetite, and he was glad of it. It was even more important for her to keep her strength up now she was with child, especially with it expected to be a winter baby.
He reached the end of the month in the next moment, dipping his quill into the ink pot before signing the bottom of the ledger so Beron would know he had cast his eye over it and been satisfied. Their coffers were healthy indeed, even with the coin he had set aside for the builders. He sighed in contentment before setting his quill aside and rising up from the desk. Myrcella smiled as he approached where she was sat breaking her fast, and he returned the gesture easily.
"Do you want me to call for anything else? More milk, perhaps?" he asked her, taking the seat opposite her as she swallowed down her mouthful.
"I'm fine, honestly," she assured him, fixing him with a look for a moment that he could almost describe as conflicted. It had him worried at once.
"What is it?" he asked her. "There's nothing wrong, is there?"
"No, of course not," she soothed him at once, reaching her hand across the table to caress his. "I just," she bit down on her lip, "I'm not certain, but I think I felt it move, the baby, I mean."
"Truly?" his eyes brightened, and her hand squeezed his in response.
"Like I said, I'm not certain," she said in an amused tone, "but I felt something, and I have never felt it before. So, I suppose it must be the baby."
"What does it feel like?" he asked her curiously, and she smiled.
"Like fluttering, I suppose," she answered him, "just so light you can barely notice it."
"But you have noticed it," he grinned at her, and her own smile widened as she nodded happily. "Gods, Myrcella, you have no idea how happy this is making me."
"I think I do," she said, her eyes finding his, "you have been full of joy for nigh on a moon now. I'm surprised no one has grown suspicious yet, the way you have been wandering around the place with such a spring in your step."
"All thanks to you," he said, lifting her hand gently to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
"Well, you helped," she raised a brow, and he smirked at her.
"I remember," he said, raising his own brows slightly, "it was my utmost pleasure."
"As it was mine," she returned, and he pressed another kiss to the back of her hand.
"Careful," he warned her in a teasing tone, "you have only just risen, and if you do not control that tongue of yours I shall have to demand you return to bed."
"Well, I am your queen," she said suggestively, "it is my duty to heed my husband's demands."
He was about to respond, but a knock came at the door before he could suggest that they did indeed return to bed. With a huff he regretfully let go of her hand and rose up from the table. Beron stood on the other side of the door when he opened it, and Robb raised a brow expectantly. "Is there a problem?" he asked the steward.
"Not at all, your Grace, forgive me," he bowed his head slightly, "I have merely come to ask if I can take the accounts ledger. Your lady mother wanted to look over the expense of the household, I believe she has a few ideas to help cut some costs during the winter."
"Very well," Robb said, moving from the door and to the desk to pick up the ledger. "I have finished with it anyway, Beron, all was in order from what I observed. We appear to be comfortably making coin."
"Yes, your Grace," Beron inclined his head as Robb approached him again with the ledger. "My apologies again for disturbing you, your Grace, my queen." He bobbed his head towards him and Myrcella in turn before backing from the room and closing the door firmly behind him.
"Well, his timing couldn't have been any better," Robb said drily, and Myrcella giggled as he moved back towards the desk to tidy away the quills and ink. "You have a letter here, did you forget about it?" Robb asked her as he opened the drawer and found a lion seal staring up at him.
"By the Gods, I must have done," Myrcella scraped back her chair at once. "I put it away in case it was from my mother," she explained as she came towards him, and he frowned. "It arrived the day I received word from you that you were coming home," she continued, laying her hand on the small of his back, "and I didn't want to sour my good mood, not when I know what her letters usually contain."
Robb couldn't help but smile at that, just at the simple fact that she had been pleased that he was coming home. "It might not be from her," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. Talk of Cersei was never at the top of his agenda, but she was Myrcella's mother and there would be no changing that. He had always determined never to speak ill of her family in his wife's presence, though it was often tested when he saw just how much her mother's wrong assumptions got to her.
"Well, it is not from Tommen as I have corresponded with him since," Myrcella said, fingering at the seal of the letter. "I can always hope it is from my Uncle Tyrion, but I will not hold my breath. He is so busy at the Rock he barely finds time to write. Unfortunately for me it seems as though my mother has far too much time on her hands."
"You won't know unless you open it," Robb said, squeezing his hand around her upper arm for a moment. She smiled faintly in response, before taking a deep breath and snapping the seal. He watched her reaction, seeing her brow furrow. "What is it?" he asked after a moment, as her frown only seemed to sink deeper into her forehead.
"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head before raising her eyes from the parchment to meet his. "What do you suppose she means by it?" she asked him, offering him the letter. Robb took it grudgingly. He had no desire to know what Cersei Lannister meant by anything, but he could not ignore Myrcella's confusion. His own brow furrowed as he took in the length of the letter. It was but a few lines, and he could make no more sense of them than Myrcella seemingly could.
It will be over soon, darling. Stay strong just a little while longer. It will be over soon.
"Your marriage to me?" he raised a brow and smirked slightly. Myrcella didn't seem to find it funny, her cheeks draining of colour as she snatched the letter back out of his hands and read the lines again. He could see her lips forming the words as she read it over and over. "Myrcella, I'm sure it's fine," he soothed her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "She could mean anything by it, winter, perhaps?"
"Or perhaps you were right the first time," she said fearfully, her knuckles white where she was holding on so tightly to the parchment. "What if she has sent someone, Robb? What if she has someone here already? Gods," she clasped her other hand to her mouth. "What if she means to harm you? To kill you?" her voice was trembling now, her eyes shining with tears.
"Stop this," he urged her at once, pulling her into his arms. "She cannot touch me here, even if she wanted to. Do you not think anyone passing through the gates in this weather who was unknown would not be greeted with suspicion? The guards know everyone, Myrcella, if they saw anyone suspicious they would come right to me. I know who is in my service, and I trust them all. Your mother has no way of buying any of them. Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise."
"You don't know what she's like, what she's capable of," Myrcella said in an agonised tone, and he frowned at her.
"What do you mean?" he asked, and she shook her head.
"I shouldn't have said that," she gabbled out, "I don't know anything for sure, it was just whispers."
"Whispers about what?" he pressed her.
"Whispers that she was behind my father's death," she confessed so quietly he had to strain to hear her. "That is wasn't an accident at all. That she arranged for it all to happen…" She tailed off, looking utterly terrified.
"Even if that were true, it was done at the Capitol where she has people willing to do her bidding," Robb told her calmly, "she does not have people here to do such a thing, now will you please try and calm yourself. You know what the Maester said, stress and worry is bad for the baby." He pulled back from her slightly at that, moving his hand to rest on her stomach. There was the slightest of change in her now, the merest hint of roundness beneath his touch. She moved her hand to lay atop his, her cheeks still pale but her brow no longer creased.
"You're right," she finally said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course you're right, there is no way she could hope to get to you here, not now that winter is set in again. We don't even know that that's what she was talking about," she shook her head. "She could have meant anything. She could have been drunk. I'm sorry, Robb, it's just the thought of anything happening to you. Of losing you, I -"
He cut her off with a kiss, working his lips softly with hers for a long moment. "You don't have to apologise," he murmured when he finally pulled back, "I know how you feel. Remember the state I was in over that stupid dream? All because I couldn't bear the thought of you not being here with me always. We have years ahead of us, many happy years. Now, forget this letter and relax," he rubbed his hand against her stomach, "all I want is for you to be calm and rested, leave the worrying to everyone else."
She was sewing what looked like a blanket when he returned from council. He had let himself in quietly in case she were sleeping, and so consequently she had not heard him come in. There was such a look of concentration on her face as she worked, and he stood and admired her for a long moment. She was sat by the fire, and the way the flames illuminated the golden strands of her hair was more captivating than he had words to describe. Still she hadn't noticed him, and so he approached slowly, his hand coming to stroke down her cheek as he moved behind her chair.
Almost at once she flinched, pulling back from his touch. When her eyes met his they were wide and panicked, and he could see from the rise and fall of her chest that her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. "It's alright," he soothed, kneeling down at the side of her chair, "it's just me, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"I know," she said weakly, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."
"It's my fault," he said, his hand coming to rest on her knee. "I should have said something, you just looked so perfect I couldn't resist." She smiled in response to that, but he could still see the lingering fear in her eyes. His own eyes darted to her hands, and she could see that her left hand was clenched tightly. He moved his hand to take it, gently prising her fingers away from her palms. "I reminded you of something, didn't I?" he raised his eyes to hers, and she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," he said again, rubbing his thumb firmly against the back of her hand.
"You weren't to know," she said, smiling for him again.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked her tentatively, and she clearly took a shuddering breath. "You don't have to," he said quickly, "if you would prefer not to then I understand. I'll just make sure never to sneak up on you again."
She laughed a little shakily at that, and he smiled, still rubbing his thumb soothingly against the back of her hand. "Would you hold me for a little while?" she asked him almost shyly, and he was nodding his agreement at once. She slipped her hand from his grasp in response, carefully setting aside her sewing before she rose up to her feet. Robb settled himself on the sofa in front of the fire, shifting himself so she could lean back against him. She moved to do just that, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her before settling his hands on her stomach. One of her own hands came to settle on one of his, the other stroking up and down his forearm. Robb exhaled in contentment, pressing a kiss to the top of her golden head.
"It was Joffrey," she said almost in response to his action, and if it were possible he tightened his hold on her even more. He was unsurprised at her confession, but it didn't make it any easier to stomach.
"What did he do?" he murmured against the top of her head, strands of her hair tickling against his lips as he spoke. She didn't speak up at once, her hand gently playing with his fingers. Robb waited, unwilling to push her. He could tell this was hard for her, and he determined that he would not make it any more difficult.
"He had been bullying Tommen again," she finally spoke up, "and I was trying to stop him, only he was worse than he usually was and he wasn't listening to me. So, in the end I couldn't stand it anymore, so I threw one of Tommen's toy soldiers at him. It cut just above his eye, and I was so certain he would turn on me right away, but he didn't. He ran away. Likely to tell mother." Her tone was bitter, but he stayed quiet, knowing she wasn't finished.
"I was terrified of getting into trouble so I went and hid in the library," she continued, "I was there for hours, but I should have known Joffrey would find me in the end." Again she paused, and Robb remained silent, waiting. "He told me that when he was King he would punish me," her voice was trembling, "that he would send me away to marry a man who would keep me in order. He even threatened to give me to the Mountain. I should have said nothing, I should have just let him say his cruel words, but I couldn't stop myself."
"I told him he would not be King for years," she went on, "I told him that father would find a good match for me, and that I would be glad to be away from him when the time came. I told him that he would be a terrible King, and that he would be despised by the people. That's when he pulled out the knife. It was only a short thing, thin and silver. I don't know where he got it from, but it was enough to shut me up. He put it to my cheek, and I was so terrified that I couldn't move, couldn't even cry out for help."
Her voice broke a little, her nails pinching ever so slightly into the back of his hand. Again, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she took a shuddering breath. "He said he would be King soon enough," her voice trembled, "and that he would make sure no man would ever love me. He said that I was pretty enough now, but that no man would ever want a scarred bride. I was so sure he would cut me. That he would scar my face, but he didn't. He put the blade away and warned me never to cross him again."
"But you still continued to shield Tommen from him?" Robb guessed quietly, and she nodded.
"I could never have left him to Joffrey's cruelty," she said, shaking her head, "I would never have been able to forgive myself. Joffrey was already determined he would make me pay, so there was not much I could do to make it worse. You know, I was so certain that he had managed to keep his promise from beyond the grave when it was agreed that I would marry you. I never dreamed that you and I would ever be happy, I was so sure that Joffrey had taken his final revenge somehow."
"I confess I imagined the same," he said quietly, "but I swear to you now, Myrcella, your brother was wrong. He paid the price for his cruelty, and you are free of him. He can never hurt you again, I promise you."
"I know," she said, her voice sounding a little thick.
"You were brave standing up to him, saying what you did," Robb told her, lacing his finger with hers.
"Stupid more like," she snorted slightly, "they were naïve words from the mouth of a child. I was wrong, father was not king for years to come. He was dead within the month. Though at least when Joffrey was made king his attention was pulled from tormenting Tommen and I as much."
"You weren't stupid," Robb soothed her, "and you were right about one thing."
"What's that?" she asked him curiously, and he couldn't help but grin.
"He was a terrible king," he answered, "despised by the people."
"I suppose you're right," she giggled slightly, squeezing his hand a little.
"You know he can't hurt you anymore," he told her seriously, pressing his lips to the top of her head firmly. "No one can hurt you anymore, I won't let them."
"I know," she whispered back to him, squeezing his hand again. "And I thank the Gods for it every day, Robb. I never imagined that we could ever be this happy. That you could ever care for me the way you do." She slipped her hand away from him at that, and before he could respond she was turning carefully in his arms so she could prop herself up against his chest and meet his eyes.
"I thought the same," he told her honestly, "you know I did, I have never hidden it from you. For years I kept you buried at the back of my mind, but as the time grew closer to you coming here I only grew to dread it more. I wanted anyone but you," he shook his head, and she smiled slightly. "It's not like that anymore," he whispered, lifting his hand to tuck a lock of her hair back behind her ear. "It has not been like that for a long time. You mean the world to me, Myrcella, don't ever doubt that."
"I don't," she responded, shaking her head slightly before holding his eyes fast once more. He knew she had her mother's eyes. Knew that everything about her appearance was pure Lannister. Inside though, inside she could not be more different. She was soft and warm, and did not have a conniving or cruel bone in her body. Her eyes may be the shade of her mother's, the very same shape and size, but they held a warmth within them that Cersei Lannister could never hope to have.
"I love you," he told her quietly before he could second guess himself. Her eyes widened in response, a completely disbelieving look on her face. She pushed herself up further against his chest so that she could look down on him. He held his eyes on her face, silently begging for her to believe him. Somehow he knew it must have been hard for her to hear the words. Somehow he imagined that they had not been uttered to her many times in her life. That clenched his heart hard. A woman like Myrcella should only be adored, never hurt or shamed the way she had been at the Capitol. Nor dreaded and dismissed as she had been by him at the beginning. He would never dismiss her again, he promised himself that as he looked into her disbelieving eyes.
"Truly?" she asked him, and he nodded his confirmation. She smiled then, but it was a smile that seemed almost tinged with sadness. It was a smile that had him wanting to pull her into his arms and never let go ever again. "Oh, Robb," her eyes were shining, "I'm not sure I have ever been sure what that truly meant."
"It means losing you would kill me," he told her, "it means you have made my life better just by being in it. You make every day better, Myrcella. I adore you. I adore simply being in your presence. I love the way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you raise one brow at me when you read my baser intentions all too easily. I need you. Your kiss. Your touch. Everything. That's what it means, Myrcella. That's what loving you means to me."
"If that's what it means," she whispered, her hands coming to cup around his cheeks. "If that is truly what it means, then I know beyond all doubt that I feel the same for you, Robb. I love you too."
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Jaime!
:)
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