The Gentle Wolf (Rhaegar Targaryen)

Chapter 6

5- Melantha

The Stark family was accommodated on the Maidenvault.

Melantha's chambers were spacious and far more luxurious than the one back in Winterfell.

Most of the servants left after she had arrived, having already placed everything in order. Only two young girls remained to help her undress and bathe.

Melantha's eyelids became heavy as the warm water helped her body relax. After so long inside a carriage, she had thought she might need to run back all the way to Winterfell in order to get rid of all the energy she had accumulated, but at that moment, with steam beginning to drift all across the room and the servants fingers carefully massaging her skull, Melantha felt all that energy leave at great speed, replaced by sheer exhaustion.

Water poured down her head, and she felt how the servant squeezed her hair gently.

"You're ready, M'lady."

When she got up, the other servant wrapped a towel around her.

"Could you please open a few windows? It is quite warm in here."

The servant looked at her like she had grown a second head, but nodded and did as she was asked.

Melantha took a step out of the tub and into the towel the remaining girl was holding up for her.

The door opened briskly, and the sound of the wood hitting the wall made her jump and slip.

Melantha landed in the arms of the servant, who gasped and grasped her arms tightly.

"Are you alright, M'lady?" She asked in a high pitched voice, sounding concerned.

Melantha nodded quickly, detaching her cheek from the poor girl's bosom and looking around.

An older woman had entered the rooms with three other girls. They dressed nicely, although modestly.

"Lady Stark, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I am Miriam, and I was appointed by the queen herself to make your wedding dress. These girls will assist me."

They all performed a courtesy, but Melantha said nothing.

The woman looked her up and down shamelessly, quickly approaching.

Miriam walked around her, moving her this and that way. Melantha and the servant exchanged a glance.

"Well, at least you're pretty. It's always easier to make someone look beautiful when they're already pretty. There's still the fact that this is a royal wedding, and those don't occur often, which means your dress has to be memorable."

Melantha attempted to smile, and forced herself to not eye the set of doors which led to her room where a big, comfortable bed awaited her.

"I am sure the dress will be wonderful, Miss. The Queen has selected you to confectionate it after all, and who could have better judgment for these things but someone so sophisticated and regal." In truth, Melantha had been so nervous, and then so intrigued by the prince, she hadn't spared Queen Rhaella a glance. "I will love whatever you make for me. Now, if you will excuse me, I've had a long journey and I'm quite tired-"

"Nonsense. You will sleep when you're dead. Fashion always comes first." Miriam came to a stop in front of Melantha and grabbed her face in her hands. She inspected it closely. "You may think it silly, my lady, but fashion can say much about a person. You're a stranger to court, and to most of the nobles and to all the people of Kings Landing. You're not just marrying a prince; you will come out of the Sept as the future Queen of Westeros. Color, cut, fabric pattern are important; they will send a message that you cannot give outloud."