The Snow Keep

Nella's mind raced as Ser Reglas led her from the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. Shaking, heart pounding in her chest, her eyes stung with tears and she could feel her cheeks burning. How dare he? How could that horrible man treat her so badly? How dare he humiliate her in front of everyone in the Hall? He was so smug, so dismissive, so quick to write her off as some stupid, helpless woman. She would show him that it was a mistake to underestimate her. He would be sorry for treating her so badly, for hurting her sister, for everything... Steering her ahead of him up the winding stairs, Ser Reglas led her through the long halls, holding her just above the elbow, gaunleted fingers tight around her arm, but not tight enough to hurt her. Stupid man, she thought. So blindly loyal to his Lord, so proud to have been knighted by that monster. "Let go of me, I can walk on my own." She spat over her shoulder at the big man, attempting to jerk her arm away from him. Reglas chuckle...

As he pulled her close and she didn't stiffen or try to pull away, again, Gregor wondered what caused her to be so brave. His Lady wife only sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair and pressing her body into his. "Little Doe..." He said softly, closing his eyes for a moment, he feeling  the throbbing in his head lessening. "Your head, it hurts you, my Lord?" She asked,him, her voice quiet, soothing. He nodded, raising his head to look into her eyes. "Aye, it does." He answered, and her brow furrowed with concern. She caressed his face with her fingertips. Her touch was like feathers brushing against his rough beard and he sighed. Melicent leaned closer and laid tiny kisses on his forehead, then, her lips moving to his temples. Her kisses made him think of warm summer rain, falling gently, almost imperceptibly onto his skin. Gregor turned his head slightly to capture her lips with his own, and she gave a tantalizing littl...

They returned to the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, Gregor walking beside her, arm around her possessively, resting his big hand at the curve of her hip. He would protect her. She was still shaking, and what she would have liked, was to lean into him, to let him bear all of the weight of Arys Dayne's execution, yet she walked beside him, head held high, refusing to show her new husband how weak she really was. She must be weak, she knew. A brave girl would not have been sorry to see the Dornishman meet his demise, she thought, but Melicent felt sick, chilled... the image of Arys on the saltire, his entrails spilling from his gut, the sound of that sickening blow... his screams... repeated over and over in her mind. It wasn't that she wanted him to live, not really. But watching... seeing ... she'd never wanted that. Was there more to it than that? She didn't rightly know. Arys's death, the violence of it, scared her. Her Lord Husband's pleasure at the completion...

Just threw together a quick edit of Gregor and Lady Melly together, thanks to an Anonymous request. Also, did you know you can follow Gregor and Melly on twitter? They promise to get their accounts more active, very soon! Check them out at @CleganeGregor and @Lady_Clegane

One of our most frequent  requests is a photo of Lady Melicent. As she's not actually a real person, that isn't easy. I've finally decided to cave and post a pic that's close to my mental image of Melly. I think that truth be told, my real mental image of her is actually a green eyed, human version of Belle, from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I know, I know... ;) mjs

There was a chill in the air when Nella awoke. She'd slept late, after a wakeful night, and for a blissful moment, she thought she was home in her bed at Karhold. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she was alone in the huge room she'd shared with her sister at Harrenhal. A heaviness settled over her as she lay remembering the wedding the night before, remembered watching the Mountain carry her sister from the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. The bedding, she knew, would have  been brutal. Melicent thought she could learn to love her Lord Husband. Nella wondered how much he would need to hurt her before she'd see the evil he carried within him. Rising, she bathed and dressed, descending to the Hall to look for her younger sisters. Upon her arrival, she found the cavernous hall to be nearly empty. Other than the flowers, all traces of the wedding feast had been removed. She saw her father and Maester Alaric talking at one of the long tables and went to greet them. ...

Gregor awoke after the sun had risen, which was unusual for him. He had always been an early riser, never one to need excessive amounts of sleep. He lay still for a moment, realizing his new bride was there, breat hing softly a gainst his c h es t, curled under his arm. She had come back to him, to sleep in his bed. This was something that had never happened before, that one of his wives would come to him of her own accord. He remembered little of his first two wives, however he had some memory of his wedding nights. Elinor was the first wife, he thought, or was it Aly s ? He often confused them. Whatever her name had been, she’d shaken so hard her teeth had chattered. Her crying was high pitched, and it had made his head had hurt something awful. He’d hit her until she quieted, flipped her onto her stomach, spit on her dry cunt and fucked her pitilessly. Afterward he’d tossed her still form over his shoulder and tossed her into her own bed. He’d thought she might be dead, but it...

They cheered as the wedding processional passed through the Outer Ward. Cheered. Not for him, he knew, but for her. Their Lady, his wife. What was it about this little creature, he wondered. How did she win your heart without effort? With a look, a smile? She had charmed him, that was certain. He half wondered if she had some kind of magic about her. Not that he believed in such things, but still... he could not deny that she caused him to feel something strange and different, something damn near unsettling. This topic had occupied his thoughts since he first discovered her in the Godswood. He puzzled over it once more as he carried her toward the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. Perched in the crook of his arm, wrapped in his cloak, her arm around his neck, she was smiling. She was fragile, delicate, and that made him want to protect her, somehow. And yet, she was brave. Perhaps the bravest girl he'd ever encountered. In fact, he'd never before met a female who hadn't been a...

She lay curled on her side and watched him rest. He reclined in the big chair by the fire, long legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed. After a while, he began to snore softly. His face, softened by sleep looked quite handsome, in a rough sort of way. He was not frowning and he looked almost peaceful in the firelight. Before long, her eyes grew heavy and sleep took her too. When she awoke, he was gone and Septa Rohanne sat by the fire. "You're awake then, my dear?" she said when she noticed Melicent begin to stir. She set down her needlework and came to stand beside the bed. "Your betrothed summoned me this morning. You must not see him today, not until the ceremony, but said he did not want you to be left alone." She looked at Melicent solemnly. "Luthor says your Lord spent the early hours in your bedchamber. Did he... use you? Last night?" Melicent sat up and shook her head. "No, he... kissed me. That is all." The Septa frow...