#that's right I looked at Shireen and Tommen and Myrcella and Ned Umber and Lyanna Mormont and were like: u lived bitch

[leupagus]

Selyse is not a "who's this bitch" kind of person but honestly, she should be forgiven for meeting Sansa like this and going "who's this bitch"

Just then there was a call from outside the tent, asking for the king. Davos opened the flap and a young solder ducked inside, bowing low to the king first, then to Lady Melisandre, then to Selyse. "Your Grace," he said, "riders were just spotted on the pass below, making their way up to our camp."

"Spotted on the pass?" snorted Davos. "Are they riding snow bears? Or elks?"

As though in answer, an horn sounded in the distance. The king started, his expression as queer as any Selyse had seen on his face in their near twenty years of marriage. It seemed almost...hopeful. "That call," he said, as though to himself.

Davos shook his head. "I don't recognize it, Your Grace. Do you?"

"Oh, yes," said Stannis softly. "I remember it very well."

The party climbing up the pass was small — a hundred men at most — in two long rows, the banners of all of Stark's promised houses unfurled. They were mounted on the great lumbering beasts that passed for horses in the North. In the pearl-grey of dawn, Selyse could see the front pair dragging behind them a curious leather-and plate device. It was shaped for all the world like the prow of a ship and it cut through the snow with ease. The party moved only slightly slower than a full canter; even as she watched, the two horses affixed to the contraption slowed and stopped, their riders giving them full rein to blow out great puffs of air into the snow. The whole party halted in an orderly queue behind them, and the two mounted soldiers directly behind circled round to unhook the lead pair (without bothering to dismount) and attaching their own horses. The party then resumed its swift pace up the mountain pass. The two who had been in the lead rejoined smoothly at the end, where the snow been packed down to a tidy path.

"Ingenious," remarked Davos. Lady Melisandre said nothing, only quirked an eyebrow. Shireen asked some imbecilic question about something, and the king made a patient response.

"Perhaps these men of the North will bring you the miracle you seek, Your Grace," said Lady Melisandre, as the riders at last drew level.

"Certainly they seem to have performed the miracle of moving in this snow," Stannis observed.

Most of the riders remained at the foot of the camp, but a small group began to make their way toward them, their behemoth horses even more ridiculous as they drew closer, with their hoofs near as wide as platters and their tails cut short as a broomstick. As they halted before their king, the riders dismounted. Despite the bitter cold, not one of them showed any sign of discomfort, their thick boots and cloaks making them appear almost as outsized as their horses.

The king took a breath, as if to ask for their leader, when a hooded figure on a great chestnut beast came out from the midst of them. Her cloak and skirts were dirty from the road and snows, her copper-bright hair in a simple peasant's braid as she pushed back her hood. A half-dozen young men surged forward to hand her from her horse, but it was a giantess in armor who helped her down and followed closely behind as she approached them.

It took Selyse a long moment to realize who the girl was: Sansa, Catelyn's eldest daughter. (Eldest child, now that the usurper Robb Stark was dead — and Catelyn too, and Lord Stark before them.) She had more of her mother's look to her than her father's, which must have pleased the Imp when he married her; Tyrion had always liked his whores pretty and clever. There was something in the way that she carried herself, however, that made Selyse suspect Sansa might be rather too clever.

The girl made no move to bow to the king, merely drew within a length as her retinue fanned out behind her. "Your Grace," she greeted Stannis. At least she had the good sense to recognize her rightful king. "I am Lady Sansa, of House Stark."

"Lady Stark," the king replied, or began to, because at that moment the damned direwolf, that unnatural creature the Lord Commander had foisted upon them, came hurtling in from wherever the devils he'd been and lunged for the girl, sending her sprawling to the ground with a scream more chilling than Shireen's, horrifyingly cut off as she—

As she laughed, the creature licking frantically at her face with its great tail wagging. The girl brought her arms around its monstrous neck and hugged it closer to her, burying her face in its fur, unconcerned entirely by the spectacle. Her Northern lords looked well pleased, in fact, nodding and smiling at one another in shared understanding. He'll recognize her, Jon had told Shireen when she'd asked how Ghost would know who Sansa was. The pack knows its own. It seemed the whole of the North knew.

The king's people were nearly as susceptible. Davos was smiling like a dolt and Shireen looked as though she wanted nothing more than to join in the undignified affair. Lady Melisandre, at least, showed little sign of being moved; she was watching with an air of interest but no warmth. Only the king was truly inscrutable, as he stared down at the tangle of girl and dog with another expression she had never seen before. This time, she could not guess as to what it meant.

At long last, the beast allowed Sansa Stark to rise, once again accepting help only from her giantess. "My apologies, Your Grace," she said. Her smile was broad and bright even as she wiped at a streak of mud across her nose. "But as you might guess, Stark reunions are rare these days."

[anonwriter27]

Chapter 13 :)

Myrcella looked beautiful the day of her baby shower, a vision in white, like an angel, Robb’s angel. The place looked amazing, with it being her first grandchild, Catelyn was determined to spoil them rotten, Myrcella had to stop herself from devouring the tower of cakes and donuts.

Everyone they loved had been invited to the shower; Robb’s uncle Edmure and great uncle Brynden had come from the Riverlands while his uncle Benjen took time out of his travels to celebrate with them. Unfortunately Rhaegar and Lyanna couldn’t make it, they lived in Bravos now and couldn’t make the flight back, they did however send an array of gifts to the young couple as an apology.

Myrcella had a surprising amount of family members attend. Tommen, of course, was there, but also her uncle Tyrion and her grandfather Tywin. Although Tywin was a solemn man, he still valued family, and a new addition was something to welcome (even though he had complained numerous times that the child was going to be born out of wedlock).

Renly, Myrcella’s uncle from her fathers side, came with his fiancé Loras; they had brought Shireen, her younger cousin, with them, her father Stannis not being one for family occasions.

“Baby is kicking.” Myrcella laughed and Loras went to put his hand on her stomach. “Wow that’s one hell of a kick! I think karate is in this ones future.” He joked. “I hope not! I don’t want my baby fighting.” “Your going to be a good mother Cella.” Renly complimented and she smiled at him.

Myrcella didn’t have any friends that weren’t now family, but Robb had Samwell Tarly and Small Jon Umber attend as well. They had been old war buddies and Myrcella loved talking to Sam, he was friendly and clumsy, similar to Myrcella.

Everyone got along well. Catelyn and Tyrion talked to each other like proud parents, Tommen had joined Sansa and Arya’s group, enjoying the red heads company. Sam was talking to Yrgitte and Myrcella about his time at the Wall and Rickon had included Shireen in his and Jon’s conversation, while Renly and Loras easily fell into conversation with anyone they came across.

“A new member of the Lannister legacy.” Tywin said proudly to Myrcella. “He or she will be a Stark grandad.” “Yes yes, but they will have Lannister blood.” He argued. “And Baratheon and Tully...” She said under her breath.

“Myrcella? Someone’s at the door for you.” Bran thankfully interrupted.

She went to get up, Jojen helping her stand. He’d become her little assistant lately and she was grateful for his help. She walked to the door silently praying it wasn’t the stripper gram Ygritte had threatened to order.

“Uncle Jaime!” She squealed and went to hug her uncle. He had ticked ‘no’ on the RSVP as she had expected him to; although he was getting better he still couldn’t stomach family gatherings, his arrival had surprised her.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” “I hadn’t intended to… I wanted to….but um..” “I know.” She assured him. “What made you change your mind?”

He shifted nervously, unsure of how to tell her.

“Myrcella… your mother knows your pregnant.” He paused, “She heard about the baby shower and I feared she might attend. So I thought…”

“You would come here to stop her.” She said, connecting the dots. “I tried to reason with her.” He promised. “I don’t think anyone can these days.” Myrcella said sadly, “No matter, will you come in for a slice of cake? You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to, but I’d like you to meet Robb.”

He smiled at that, “It’s only right I congratulate the man.” He said and walked in with her.

Robb recognised him immediately, having seen pictures of him in Myrcella’s photo album. He looked nervous and unsure; Robb respected him for doing this, he knew what it was like to push yourself away from everyone, it took a lot of courage to let people back in again.

Tyrion noticed his brothers arrival and stood by his side, Tyrion’s presence had always made Jaime feel a little calmer.

“You must be Jaime Lannister.” Robb said. “And you must be the young wolf.” Jaime said, referring back to Robb’s nickname in the army, “My command heard about you during the war, it’s nice to see my niece found a good man.”

“Thank you.” Robb said, Myrcella at his side beaming with pride at her uncle’s compliment.

The four enjoyed each other’s conversation, Jaime finally relaxing in other people’s company; that was until he heard the sound of distant thunder.

“How quaint.” They heard from the doorway, they turned to see Cersei looking around the room.

“And so peaceful until…” Renly sang in a whisper to Loras, downing his beer in preparation.

Catelyn walked over to Myrcella, “I swear I did not invite her.” “I know.” She assured Catelyn, “She’s always been one for an entrance.”

“Myrcella, look at you.” Cersei walked up to her daughter ready to place her hands on her stomach, but Myrcella took a step back.

Myrcella Baratheon was good at protecting others, she always had been; however, she rarely ever protected herself. That was about to change though, Myrcella had to protect herself, because she had to protect her child.

“Mother,” she smiled and grabbed her hand, “I think there’s been a mistake.” She said sweetly in a hushed voice.

“And what would that be?” Cersei asked. “You see, this party is invite only, I’m afraid you didn’t receive an invite.”

Robb watched her in awe, finally she is standing up to her, he thought.

“But my dear I’m your mother.” Cersei said pointedly.

Myrcella looked her mother dead in the eye.

“Well, when you start acting like a mother, I’ll start considering you as one.” Myrcella said in her sweet voice.

Sansa clasped her hand around Arya’s mouth before she could shout ‘burn’ at Cercei, while Gendry and Tommen looked proud of their sister.

“I’m that child’s grandmother.” “You could have been, but my child won’t go through what you put me through. My child will be loved mother, until you can prove you’re capable of that, I’m sorry but you are to stay away.”

Jon and Ygritte had to hide behind Bran and Jojen to hide their smiles, though Bran was having difficulty covering up his own.

Tyrion walked up to his sister.“I think that’s your cue to leave.” This angered Cersei.

“I will not be told what to do by you of all people! Believe what you want Myrcella, but I was protecting you! Do you think this world is kind? I was preparing you for the real world, something these Starks would never understand. The world is full of people like your father, uncaring and cruel, I had to make you see that.”

If that is true, mother, then why is it that the only one who has ever been cruel to me is you or Joff? Dad can be uncaring, I’ll give you that, but he’s never intentionally hurt me like you.” Myrcella stated, as though she was realising these things just now.

“So what? Your going to take life lessons from the imp? Is that it?” Upon hearing the cruel nickname her mother had given her uncle, Myrcella’s sweet disposition faded.

“If you have a child like him, that wolf of yours won’t want either of you! You’ll be cast aside faster than I can say I told you so.”

“Get out.” Robb said, his tone nearly frightening Myrcella.

“Fine, you think I want to be a part of that kid’s life. It’s a Stark, half savage, why should I care about it?” She rambled on hopelessly.

Before she could say anymore, Myrcella pulled down on her mother’s hand and brought her inches away from her face, “Insult my child again, and I promise you, you will regret it.”

No one had ever seen this side of Myrcella, Robb’s father would have called it wolf’s blood. She was a she wolf protecting her pup.

Robb rubbed Myrcella’s shoulder and stepped in front of her. “You will not be told again.” He warned Cersei.

“But…” She started. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough for one day,” Tywin scolded her, “Do as they say, I’ll have words with you later.”

No one questioned Tywin Lannister, she turned and left, the party returning to its previous state of happiness, grateful that the storm had been lifted.

“So,” Sam began, “Do we know if it’s a little prince or a princess yet?” Myrcella giggled, “We’ve decided to wait, much to Catelyn’s disappointment.” Catelyn rolled her eyes but smiled.

“What about names?” Sansa asked eagerly. “Well,” Robb started, “We both like Rosie for a girl.” Robb was already in love with the idea of a little girl with Myrcella’s big green eyes. They would be his girls.

“And for a boy?”

Robb thought about it, “We haven’t actually decided….”

“Ned.”

He turned to look at Myrcella, “Eddard on the birth certificate.” She continued.

All the Starks looked at her, Catelyn with tears in her eyes, his uncle Benjen looking at them both proudly. Robb looked her in the eye and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Your father was a great man, it’ll do him good to have a name to live up to.” She said smiling.

He kissed her, not caring that anyone else was in the room. “Thank you.” He said, and he meant it. It wasn’t just a thank you for the name, but for the wonderful life she had given him.

“Your very welcome.” She said, and kissed his forehead. It was then they noticed Jon and Rickon handing money over to Bran.

“What did you bet on this time?” Robb asked exasperatedly.

“They bet you’d name your child after them,” Bran said, “I bet that you wouldn’t.” He finished smugly.

“I bet they’ll name their next one after me!” Rickon yelled. “Your on!” Jon said, and the pair joined in an aggressive handshake. “Oy Vey.” Jojen said as he noticed the eager look on Bran’s face.