FIRE AND ICE - ROBB STARK X TARGARYEN OC

News and Justice

The chamber was still heavy with the scent of smoke and sea salt when Rhaenya stirred. She blinked against the soft light filtering through the shutters, her cheek resting against Robb's chest. His hand was already there, resting protectively over her stomach even as he dozed.

She shifted, and his eyes opened. He smiled, sleep-worn and unguarded. "I half-believed it was a dream," he whispered.

"It's real," she said softly, curling her hand over his. "Our child."

For a moment, they allowed themselves the quiet - two lovers, two rulers, no war, no burdens. But kings and queens were not made for endless dreams.

By midday, the great table of Dragonstone was ringed with their council. Tyrion sat with his goblet of wine, sharp-eyed and expectant. Missandei had her ledgers neatly stacked. Rickon leaned forward eagerly, his boyish grin unhidden, Mace Tyrell looked like a slightly bored peacock, Daenerys looked serious but calm and Varys sat robed in pale silk, hands folded serenely, his gaze unreadable.

Robb stood, his hand entwined with Rhaenya's. "We called you here for joy," he said, his voice steady. "The maester confirmed it before we marched for Riverrun. Rhaenya is with child. Our firstborn. A new heir."

Rickon whooped, unable to restrain himself. " a nephew or niece finally."
Daenerys quickly stood up and hugged her niece, sure there was a slight saddness that she herself couldn't have children, but she was happy Rhaenya was going to be a mother. In fact she would make sure nothing went wrong with the pregnancy.

Tyrion raised his cup with a lopsided grin. "To ice and fire then - and to the little wolf-dragon who may yet save us all."

But before the warmth of the moment could settle, Varys cleared his throat. His voice was quiet, but it stilled the chamber. "Your Graces... I fear I must cast a shadow upon this joy. Word has come from King's Landing. The Princess Myrcella is dead."

The smiles faded. Robb's brow furrowed, his hand tightening around Rhaenya's. "Dead? How?"

"Poison," Varys replied softly. His dark eyes lowered. "And already the tale spreads that it was not Dornish vengeance, but the will of the dragon queen. My little birds tell me that Cersei Lannister speaks it openly. To the smallfolk, the whispers are already truth: that Rhaenya ordered the girl's murder."

The silence was thick, broken only by the sea winds rattling the shutters.

"But that is not true, i especifically ordered that Myrcella should remain protected and untouched." Rhaenya said with a look of horror in her face.

"Truth rarely matters to the smallfolk," Tyrion said grimly, setting down his goblet. "They want a monster. My sister has given them one."

Robb's jaw clenched, but his voice was steady. "Then we will not chase her poison. We will not cheapen ourselves by wrestling with ghosts." He glanced at Rhaenya, his hand covering hers. "We will answer with what she cannot - with deeds. With justice. With mercy."

Rhaenya did not want to but knew her husband was right so she lifted her chin, violet eyes hard though her hand trembled in his. "Then let her call me murderer. I will show the people who I truly am, and when they see, they will know the beast sits the Iron Throne, not Dragonstone."

Varys inclined his head. "Wise words, Your Grace. The truth will out, if you give it time and light."

Missandei's soft voice broke the tension. "Then let us guard both joys and sorrows. A child for the future... and a shadow to outlast."

Robb drew Rhaenya close, his hand still pressed over her belly. "Our child will be born into war," he said quietly, for her ears alone. "But they will also be born into hope. And I will not let Cersei take that from us."