Excentryke's Musings

Title: Pig Stye
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Pairing(s): Bella Swan/Robb Stark
Fandoms: Twilight Saga/Game of Thrones
Word Count: 2k
Rating: PG
Warnings: kings, castles, and pig styes
Summary: Bella, a farmhand in Westeros, encounters the Royal Caravan on its way to Winterfell…

Bella slipped in the mud and fell onto her hands, coating them with muck.  She sighed.  She was a farmer in Westeros—a strange place she had discovered through a door at the Volturi castle.  She had had nothing but the clothes on her back, and had been taken in by an old man who fed her from his small bowl of soup and gave her a place to sleep.  She had stayed with him, helping on his farm, since she had nowhere else to go.

Westeros was a place of dragons—although Bella had never seen one.  They were far south in King’s Landing.  Or at least dragon skulls were.  There were no dragons now, not for a hundred years, and in Westeros a hundred years was a long time.

Pushing herself to her feet, she wiped her brow with the back of her arm, not caring if she got mud on her forehead.  She’d have to wash herself at the well either way. 

Far off she heard the sound of horns and she looked up, confused.

The horns continued to sound.  Someone important was coming. 

Wiping her hands on her skirts, Bella went out to the front and waited for the approaching caravan.  She could see it far off behind the trees.  It was not like Lord Stark to announce his coming.  It must be someone else.

The caravan came upon her with the horns sounding.

The old man hadn’t come out, so he must be napping by the fire.  Bella didn’t want the sound of horses to wake him.  He needed his rest.  Bella could handle the farm and now feed him with the soup she made at the fire at night.

“Wotcher,” a voice whispered in her ear and Bella jumped.  With the sound of horns and stampeding horses, she hadn’t heard anyone approach.

Turning, she smiled when she saw it was Robb.  His auburn hair had been cut back to his skull and he was newly shaven, which was strange.  He had always appeared as a wildman to her, quite of the hartwood. 

“Did you hear them too?” she asked, looking behind her to see Robb’s horse tied up to the tree. 

“No,” he admitted carefully, shielding his eyes from the winter sun.  “They are too far off from my—household.”  He paused, as if considering.  “It will be awhile yet until they get to their destination.”

“Who are they?” Bella asked, wondering, not recognizing the myriad of banners.  “Who is come?”

Robb grimaced.  “The king.”

Bella blinked in shock.  “The king?” she breathed.  “All this way north?  Has he ever come here before?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Robb told her, reaching forward and pulling a piece of mud soaked hair from her face and then stole a quick kiss.  “Have you been at the pigs again?”

Bella smirked.  “What if I have?”

Robb’s dark eyes brightened.  “I would say you work too hard, Mistress Bella.  You have all the farm on your hands.  It is not suitable for a young woman.”

Having heard this argument before, Bella didn’t bother to argue.  She knew what Robb thought.  She suspected he was a steward at an actual stronghold further to the west, and the women in strongholds sat around and embroidered all day, looking fine in their gowns.  They did not muck about with pigs.

“Here they come,” Robb remarked and Bella turned back toward the woods, seeing that the caravan had indeed approached.

She sank into a curtsey as Robb bowed at the sight of a large man on a tiny horse, a crown on his head.  This must be Robert Baratheon. 

He reined in his horse and looked them over.

“A cup of ale, girl,” he ordered.

Bella glanced at Robb in worry.  “Forgive me, your grace,” she told the king carefully, “we only have milk and water from the well.”

Robert Baratheon sighed.  “It has been nothing but milk for weeks,” he complained.  “Not a single keep in sight!”

Robb stood tall and carefully placed his hand on the small of Bella’s back in reassurance.  “The milk is quite good, your grace.  You shall not be disappointed.”

The king looked them over from head to foot, clearly not liking what he saw.  He made a motion with his head, and Bella carefully stepped out of Robb’s embrace and turned into the house to fetch the milk.

The old man was indeed asleep in his chair by the fire. Bella carefully adjusted his blanket, wanting him to be comfortable, and then went to fetch a cup of milk.

When she returned outside, Robb and the king were having a conversation about distance. 

“Not three hours hence,” Robb was saying, pointing to the west, “though judging by the speed of your caravan, it will be longer.  You shall be there by midday.”  He looked so tall and fine in his riding leathers, that Bella had to pause to take in Robb, before hurrying to the king with the milk.

The king took it and obligingly drank, handing it back.  He didn’t comment, just made a sound in the back of his throat.  Making a motion with his hand, he pushed his poor horse to move forward again, and the caravan slowly began to start up again.

Bella stood there, holding the cup, careful to curtsey to the litter that passed by partway through the caravan.  The queen would surely be within if she had come this far north with the king.

“Why are they here?” Bella whispered to Robb as the last of the caravan moved through.

“The king is to see Lord Stark.”  There was no emotion in his voice.  “About what is anyone’s guess.”

As the caravan pulled out of sight, Bella led Robb into the backyard, careful not to slip in the mud.  “Have you ever been to Winterfell, Robb?” she asked, walking over to the heart tree.  The old man had fashioned a bench underneath where he could sit and enjoy the sound of the wind through the red leaves.  It was now where Bella sat when Robb came to visit.

“Once or twice,” Robb admitted.  “It is very grand.”

“Grand,” Bella laughed.  “There is nowhere less grand than here.”

A small smile curled on the corner of Robb’s lips.  “I prefer it here, in your garden, in the wierwood.”  His dark blue eyes flashed and he looked down at Bella, who was a couple of inches shorter.  “You seem so at home here.”

Bella reached out and touched the crying face of the heart tree.  “There is something comforting about the place,” she admitted.  She turned and smiled at Robb.  “What brings you here today?”

He pulled her down to sit on the bench.  “Don’t tease me, Bella.”

Confused, she looked at him in questioning.  “I would never tease you, Robb,” she assured him.  “You know you are my only company but for the old man, and he sleeps more than he’s awake.”

Robb let his hand run down her arm and clasped her muddy hand in his.  Even her fingernails were coated in dirt.  “Bella,” he sighed.  “Do you not know?”

“Know what?” she murmured.

“I—” Robb hesitated and then, seeming to make a decision, pushed forward.  “I wish to wed you, Bella.”

She blinked in surprise, but did not withdraw her hand from his.  She stared down at his strong hand, feeling the pads on his fingers from some sort of work or swordplay.  “I—I don’t even know where you come from,” she whispered.  “You’re a mystery to me.”

“As you are to me,” he admitted.  “I came to check on the old man, to see if he could still manage his farm, and found you instead.”  That had been two months back.  Robb had appeared on horseback, making inquiries, and had followed Bella into the pig stye and helped her with her chores.  He had been a regular visitor ever since.

Robb’s blue eyes shone with honesty.

“I’m his granddaughter,” Bella fibbed.

Now Robb cocked his head to the side.  “I know you lie, Bella.  The old man never married.  He’s been on the land since before even my father can remember.”

“We are your tenants then,” Bella realized, carefully withdrawing her hand as she felt the distance begin to stretch between the two of them.  “I know we raise the pigs for a fine hall somewhere in the North.”

Robb tried to catch her gaze, but Bella had turned away.

“You see why I haven’t told you,” Robb began to explain carefully.  “I never wanted you to feel beholden to me.”

“I had hoped you were a guard, or a sworn sword.”  Bella was now half-talking to herself, more than anything.  “I don’t know what I thought—but a lord would never muck out a pig stye.”  She turned to him, her dark eyes wide.  “Surely you tell me false.”

“I do not tell you false, Bella,” Robb assured her carefully.  “I would that it were not so—that I could wed you and make my home at this small farm.  I could be contented with you all of my days.”  His face showed nothing but earnestness.  “If only we could escape our destinies.”

Destinies.  Bella had no destiny.  She was destined to muck up after pigs and do the housework, not that she complained.  Bella didn’t even complain when Edward left her crying on the forest floor.  But he was long gone and forgotten now, a member of the Volturi guard as punishment for revealing the secret of vampires to her.

“Are you the eldest son?” Bella whispered.

Robb sighed.

He was then.  He was the eldest son of a keep.

“Surely your father would like a great lady—”

“I do not want a great lady,” Robb asserted, taking her hand in his again and stroking the back of it with his fingers.  “I want you.”

“I am covered in mud.”  It was only the truth.  She was covered in mud.  It coated her legs from where she fell, it covered her skirts, it had dried on her hands.  It was even in her hair.

Robb smiled at her.  “You shall bathe,” he promised, “and the mud will be gone.”

Bella wondered, “Why are you telling me this?  Why now?”  She glanced into his blue eyes and saw only honesty in them.  “Does your father even know you’re here?”

“The Royal Caravan has come,” Robb told her, and Bella stilled.  “I need to secure your hand in case an alliance is proposed, though I cannot imagine who the lady would be.”

“You are that grand?” Bella whispered in shock, standing.  Her hand slipped from his, but Robb quickly stood with her.  “I would only bring disgrace on your house.”

“There is no disgrace in hard work and honest labor,” he assured her.  “I love you, Bella.”  She turned to him in shock.  “Surely you know that.”

“You never said,” she whispered.

They walked to the fence and Robb looked worriedly toward the disappearing caravan.

“You must go,” Bella realized.  “You are to greet the king, then, at Winterfell, you are so grand.”  She leaned over the fence to get a better look at the procession.  “Is that why you are clean shaven?”

He self-consciously ran a hand along his smooth chin.  “Mother insisted.”

“We must look our best,” Bella agreed wryly.  She pushed some mud coated hair behind her ear.  “I must have made a bad impression on the king.”

“I daresay his grace has seen mud before,” Robb told her, not unkindly.  “He did after all fight in the Rebellion.  There must have been plenty of mud there.”

“They say he was betrothed to Lyanna Stark, which is why he started the Rebellion,” she murmured, thinking.

“You are more beautiful than Lyanna,” Robb promised her.  “I have seen her likeness.”

She looked up at him and smiled to herself at the compliment.  Robb always thought she was beautiful, even when she had straw in her hair.  He was looking at her now like he wanted to kiss her but was afraid she would reject him.  Instead, he reached for her hand and she gave it willingly. 

“Let us be wed,” he begged.  “I must have our betrothal settled by the time the king arrives.”

“And which great keep are you from?”

He hesitated.

Winterfell, she realized.  He was a son of Winterfell. 

She cast down her eyes, but he would not allow her to withdraw from him.  He pulled her toward him, not caring for her muddied clothes, and tilted her face toward him.  “My Bella,” he breathed.  “Wed me.”

“What will happen to the old man?” she asked in worry.

“I will send men to tend the farm,” he promised her.  “The old man will be well looked after.  The only reason I didn’t send men sooner is I didn’t want you falling in love with them, with me several hours away and unable to prevent it.”

Bella laughed a little to herself.  She reached up and carefully touched the side of Robb’s ear.  “You know I was gone on you the first time I laid eyes on you.”  Robb had carved out a place in her heart and she did not believe she could excise him.  He had healed the wound Edward had left with his careful caresses and warm smiles.

“Then you shall wed me,” he pressed.  “We shall pledge ourselves at the weirwood. No man can break such a vow.”

Looking into his dark blue eyes, Bella felt her final resolve dissolve.  “I am not a great lady,” she reminded him.

“No man wants a lady in silks,” he told her, leaning in to kiss her.  “No nothron man,” he amended.  His lips hovered over hers, and she breathed in the scent of him.  Robb smiled to himself and then he kissed her, a kiss of promise and all that was to come.

The End.