Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6701545.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      F/M, Gen
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire
  Relationship:
      Robb_Stark/Margaery_Tyrell, Joffrey_Baratheon/Margaery_Tyrell, Joffrey
      Baratheon/Sansa_Stark, minor_Cersei_Lannister/Jaime_Lannister_-
      Relationship, Tyrion_Lannister/Shae_mentioned
  Character:
      Robb_Stark, Margaery_Tyrell, Sansa_Stark, Tyrion_Lannister, Jaime
      Lannister, Cersei_Lannister, Olenna_Tyrell, Howland_Reed, Shae, Joffrey
      Baratheon, Loras_Tyrell, I'm_too_lazy_to_list_them_all
  Additional Tags:
      Implied_necrophilia
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-30 Updated: 2017-07-30 Chapters: 31/? Words: 25744
****** Save me if I become my demons ******
by Dkpetersen26
Summary
     The North Remembers, but what about its king?
***** Chapter 1 *****
Mother. Maiden. Crone. Father. Smith. Warrior. Stranger.

Mother. Talisa. Old Nan. Father. Mikken. Arya. Bran. Rickon. All gone, all
dead. I failed them, I failed all of them. Greatjon, Smalljon, Wendel Manderly,
Patrek Mallister, Dacey Mormont, Rodrik Forrester. Grey Wind. Because of me.
The husk tore a tree branch down. He fell, the arrows in his back snapping as
he rolled. The King in the North. What a perverse joke. He smiled, a rictus
grin reflected in the waters of the Trident. I'm the lone wolf now. The pack is
dead. I'm the lone wolf now, father, and the lone wolf dies. A thing, an it.
Oh, I'll die. I'll die like the animal I am, but I'll die doing something
worthwhile. Sansa still lives. I'll find her, I'll take her to Jon, and I'll
die a happy thing.
"And who are you? The proud lord said, that I must bow so low?" The Frey
relieved himself against a tree. He laughed, "King in the North. Cocky little
shit." A twig snapped behind him. "Hey, have they finished with the Tully bitch
yet? Always wanted a go with a highborn lady." He turned around and screamed,
only to be cut short by the rock caving his skull in.
The corpse of Robb Stark lay where it had been dumped on the bank. The dead
king ran his hand through the fur of the wolf's head nailed on its shoulders.
"I'm sorry." He closed Grey Wind's eyes and lay the torch on the man's chest.
The dead king said no prayers, as no god who could allow this to happen could
be worthy of such.
***** Chapter 2 *****
The Riverlands
Shut up! The dead king stumbled over a branch, the broadsword he'd stolen at
the ready. I'm not a wolf anymore! I'm not one of you! The wolves never
stopped, howling at him from the dark, stalking him. Shutupshutupshutupshutup
"Shut up!" He screamed, falling to the ground with a wordless moan of anguish.
Leave me alone! He started sprinting away only to grind to a halt, his path
blocked by two wolves. He raised the broadsword and charged. Why do I fight?
Something blindsided him and knocked him to the ground, the sword lost.
End it. His silent plea went unanswered, instead he felt something wet touch
his face. He cracked an eye open and a direwolf with yellow eyes stood over
him. No. You're dead, you're all dead. He ran his hand through its fur.
"Nymeria."
 
King's Landing
From the instant King Joffrey barged into the hall, Margaery Tyrell knew
something especially violent had happened. "Robb Stark is dead!" He was
crackling with glee, his smile only growing wider as Sansa Stark dropped her
fork. To spare the girl from another outburst, Margaery stood and embraced the
jubilant king. "A great victory, my love. Tales of your cunning will be
immortalized in the minds of all who rightly serve you." Behind her, Tyrion
Lannister rolled his eyes. "Yes, I like the sound of that. Uncle, commission
the finest bard in the realm to sing for my wedding feast for all to hear what
happens when you oppose your rightful king." Tyrion Lannister hides his anger
well. She noted the small twitch of irritation disguised as a move to scratch
his nose, or absence thereof. The Imp smiled sweetly, "I would so love to obey
your commands, your grace, but between the extravaganza of your impending
marriage and the continuing war effort against the traitor Stannis Baratheon
and stragglers in the Riverlands, our coffers are somewhat... Lacking. My
father would have my head if I had to siphon funds for a mere bard. Surely your
wedding will have enough entertainment, I assume that the guests would require
some time to actually eat the seventy seven courses we shall serve." The subtle
mockery was lost on Joffrey, who waved a hand dismissively. "You will remind my
lord grandfather that he is merely the King's Hand, my authority is absolute.
Commission the bard. You serve as Master of Coin at my pleasure. If you cannot
do your job, perhaps Littlefinger would be interested in returning to the
post." Fat chance. Petyr Baelish is Lord Protector of the Vale, Lysa Arryn
speaks with his voice and his alone. He would never give up such authority.
Margaery glanced at Sansa, who had shrunk into her chair, wishing she could
save the girl she had come to care for as a sister. Joffrey pounced on her
instantly. "Sansa! Are you not overjoyed at our triumph?" To her credit, Sansa
gathered herself and her dignity to sit up straight. "My brother was a traitor,
no better than rabble in the sight of the gods. If his death has brought you
joy, then I thank the gods for their kindness." Tyrion averted his eyes in
shame but Joffrey hadn't finished. "Oh, sweet Sansa, that's not the best part!"
Don't you dare. Joffrey swigged his wine glass. "After he died, they cut his
head off and nailed his direwolf's head in its place! Now the world will know
him for what he was, an animal ill-fit to roam the earth. I've already sent the
order to send his real head here, I promised to present it to you and I keep my
promises!" Sansa's mask was impeccable. "Yes. I remember that day as though it
were yesterday. I can hardly wait to see another block of your rule cemented in
place, my brave king."
Margaery lay in her bed, pondering the events unfolding. Her father's "scheme"
had fallen into place seamlessly. Not that it is a real scheme, more a case of
they need us more than we need them. If it wasn't the Lannisters... She stopped
herself, Don't go there. She couldn't help herself. Father would never side
with Stannis Baratheon even if he hadn't denounced us for siding with Renly.
Balon Greyjoy, no. That leaves Robb Stark. She had met Catelyn Stark in the
Stormlands and Robb Stark was said to look very similar to her, Sansa was even
more beautiful than Catelyn had been. After five minutes of twirling her hair
between her fingers, she decided to talk to Sansa.
"Enter." Tyrion Lannister looked up to see Margaery Tyrell walk in the door to
his solar. "My lady, how may I help you?" She shook her head, "I did not mean
to intrude upon your work, my lord. I merely wished to speak to Sansa, she is
one of my dearest friends and she seems like she requires company." Tyrion
nodded. "I couldn't agree more. Please, she's in the bedchamber on the left."
As Margaery moved to the door, he set his quill down. "I met Robb Stark once."
She stopped, "Oh?" Margaery turned and tilted her head slightly. "He was young,
your age actually, but he wasn't... Green. If you'd met Eddard Stark, you'd be
shocked at very notion of him being green. Robb Stark outsmarted us on the
field, even without the Blackfish or Greatjon Umber by his side. He had honour,
he had skill, he had smarts. Robb Stark was a good man, my lady. Regardless of
what Joffrey or Cersei say." A wolf howling in the distance made him fall
silent. "They've gotten louder." He observed. Margaery nodded. "Ever since the
Red Wedding." Tyrion gulped his wine down. "Lannister Red, Tully Red, Blood
Red. Walder Frey made history, in the worst way imaginable."
"Sansa?" The red headed girl curled up on the sheets, crying silently. "Sansa."
Margaery wrapped her arms around the other girl. "I'll kill him." Sansa sobbed
into her shoulder. Oh, little bird. We both know you'd never get near him.
"Tell me about him." The request clearly surprised Sansa. "Well... He looks-
looked like my mother, we had matching hair..."
***** Chapter 3 *****
The kingswood
"Margaery, this isn't safe!" Neither is King's Landing, brother. Margaery
turned and gave Loras her most endearing look. "What's the worst that could
happen with my big, strong Knight of Flowers to guard me? If you're good enough
to guard Joffrey, you can guard me while I take a stroll, Loras." Her brother
grabbed her arm. "What is it with you? Ever since The Red Wedding you've been
all over the place. I understand that Sansa Stark is a powerful ally but
there's no question of getting a betrothal for Wilias now." Margaery glared at
him and pulled herself loose. "Must everything I do be politically motivated?
Can't I act on my emotions for once? Sansa is my friend. As for The Red
Wedding, maybe I feel worried about allying with someone who would do such a
thing!" Oh, don't look so shocked, brother. You were there when Joffrey told
us. "The only reason we're here is because Renly wasn't man enough to touch
me!" Loras's eyes widened, "Renly...I-" Somewhere in the back of her mind,
Margaery felt guilty but she didn't say a word. She turned on her heel and
walked further into the kingswood, forcing Loras to follow her sullenly. After
ten or so minutes of silence, they came across a tree with a face carved
roughly into the bark. What is this? Margaery ran her hand over the wood. She
remembered something that her maester had told her. "The First Men believed
that the gods watched the earth through weirwood trees, each had a face carved
into its bark, giving the old gods a face through which to see and hear. When
the Andals invaded, every weirwood tree in the south was torn down. In the
North, however, they survived, for the First Men never truly fell."
"Margaery!" Loras yelled, drawing his sword as they were suddenly surrounded by
wolves, teeth bared and dripping with saliva. The biggest one was massive,
easily as tall as her shoulders. Margaery backed away until she hit the tree,
stumbling. Loras roared and lunged at the wolf. "No!" There was an ear-
splitting clang as a stranger dived in to deflect Loras's sword with his own.
It shattered on impact and he grunted, his fist catching Loras in the face,
knocking him down. The stranger turned to see two wolves approach Margaery and
grabbed them both, holding on. "Run!" He yelled as he wrestled them away. In
that moment, Margaery caught a glimpse of his face. He had dirty, red hair, a
matted beard and bags under his eyes, those striking blue eyes... He looks just
like Catelyn Stark. His clothes were filthy, covered in muck and grass and
blood, but the sigil on his chest was clearly that of House Frey. "Tell my
sister not to give up hope." She heard him say as she dragged Loras up and ran
for the horses. When they finally stopped, Loras snapped his head back. "That
bastard has my sword!" Really? That's the biggest issue here? "You must have
about fifty swords, Loras. I hardly think you need to worry." She snapped,
trying to get her thoughts together. He looked like Lady Catelyn, and Sansa
told me... No, he's dead. They cut his head off and dumped his body in a river.
It can't be him. As much as her mind reasoned against it, she knew that she was
right.
The dead king slumped against a tree, pressing hard on a wound in his side. So
that was the infamous Lady Margaery Tyrell. He spat out a glob of blood and
phlegm. Hopefully her bodyguard will do better against Joffrey. "Anything would
be better than you." He started, scanning for the source of the voice. "The
King Who Lost the North." Rickard Karstark was bent over an executioner's
block. "We made you king, boy. You promised us you'd save us, but you went too
far." The king stood on shaky feet. "I know." He whispered. "But killing you
was justice." Karstark snorted. "Killing those boys was justice. A son for a
son, a life for a life. You refused to give my justice. For what?! Honour? Pah.
Tywin Lannister didn't win with honour, he did what had to be done!" He
approached the executioner's block. "Maybe he did, but I'll gladly take your
head again." He swung the sword and cut through thin air. Karstark was gone.
"Remember what I told you,
King in the North.
 A Lannister always pays his debts." Someone drawled from behind him. The king
grunted, "Piss off, Kingslayer." Jaime Lannister laughed, "You're still the
obnoxious boy who locked me in a cage. Not so threatening now, eh? Now you know
what it's like to be alone in the dark, no one to love, no one to kill." The
knight stepped forward. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."
Again, the king swung, and again he cut thin air. "That's all you ever think
with, isn't it?" The dead king turned again. "Jon?"
Jon Snow smirked. "You only think with your sword, or your cock. How did that
go again? Oh." The king averted his eyes. "I wanted you to come south. I made
you a Stark, I made you my heir." Jon chuckled, "After all these years, it
takes a war for you to do that. All I ever wanted was Father's name, you could
have given me that. Instead, you let me go to the Wall. So I could be out of
the way. You never even lifted a finger for me. It was always you, you, you.
You had Winterfell, you became king. Did I ever cross your mind? Did you ever
think that I deserved more? It's too late now, Stark. I'm condemned, brother."
Jon gasped as a dagger appeared in his stomach. Another and another and
another. Blood ran from his bleeding chest, from his nose and mouth. "No!" The
king ran to his brother and held thin air.
The king looked up and there his mother stood, but it wasn't her. Her hair was
white and missing in places, her cheeks were ravaged with dark grooves, her
throat was split open and her eyes were dead. She didn't speak, she just stared
at him with disgust. "I warned you not to trust a Greyjoy!" Her voice rang
through the forest, though her lips didn't move. He fell to his knees, head in
his hands. Please. No more.
***** Chapter 4 *****
King's Landing
 
Why do I care so much? Margaery asked herself for the umpteenth time. What had
been a passing curiosity was bordering on obsession. She filled a picnic basket
with medical supplies, food and some wineskins before heading to the stables.
She dismounted when she found the spot her and Loras had been with their
horses. She headed to the heart tree, wary of wolves in the dark. The man sat
against it, his head down and shoulders slumped. "Who is it?" He asked, "Who's
there?" He looked up and his face darkened. "No. Not you. Not you." Margaery
stepped forward, Who does he think I am? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken you
to the Twins." Is he speaking to his wife? He thinks I'm his wife. "I failed
you, I failed all of you. The North, the Umbers, the Forresters, our child."
Margaery's eyes widened, His wife was pregnant? She approached him and put her
hand on his forehead. He's feverish. She brought a potion to his lips. "I'm a
friend. I need you to drink this." He looked at her blankly for a moment, and
drank. His eyes focused on her. Why do I feel so small all of a sudden? "Lord
Stark?"
Robb Stark grimaced, "I'm not a lord anymore, Lady Margaery, and I'm not worthy
of being a Stark." Margaery unpacked the basket. "Why? You're a legend, the man
who beat Tywin Lannister in the field. You captured the Kingslayer, saved
Riverrun, you nearly beat them." Robb gave a derisive snort, "And lost to them
in the bedroom. I failed everyone who ever put faith in me. I fought the
Lannisters, knowing that my sisters would be punished for my victories. I broke
my oath and I lost everything I built in an evening." He's crying. "You
couldn't have known Walder Frey would dare to break guest right. House Frey is
cursed in the eyes of gods and men. They'll get their reckoning." Robb shook
his head. "Gods and men." He spat, "Where were gods and men when my father was
murdered? Where were they when the man I called Brother betrayed me, killed my
brothers and burnt my home? Where were they when Black Walder Frey put a knife
in my wife's stomach? Or when my mother's throat was cut and her body dumped in
a river, when Roose Bolton put a knife in me?" He shoved Margaery away and
tried to stand. "You're wounded." Margaery put a hand on his shoulder, "Let me
help you." He stared at her for a few seconds, and sat down.
"I need to take this off." Robb bit his cheek as the wounds on his back
ignited. Margaery examined him. His body was a patchwork of scars but only two
seemed fresh. One was next to his heart, the other on his stomach. His back was
marked by several smaller wounds where the crossbow bolts had been pulled out
by the wolves. "How did you survive? I heard about what they did to your men."
He groaned as he shifted slightly, "Roose Bolton isn't as good with a dagger as
he thinks he is. I played dead until the hall was empty and ran for the woods.
I went back to the river to find my direwolf and... And..." Margaery took his
hand. "I know." Robb sniffed. "They must have thought I'd been trampled, I
burned the head and everything I could find." Hs shoulders shook slightly and
Margaery didn't know what else to do but put an arm around him. To her
surprise, he pulled her closer, and strangely, her fingers tingled at his
touch.
***** Chapter 5 *****
The Kingswood
 
"You came here for your sister, didn't you?" Robb bit off a chunk of bread from
the loaf she'd given him. "Yes. That's why I came south, I just need to find a
way to get her out of King's Landing." Margaery chewed on her lip, wringing her
hands. "My grandmother... She's planning something. I don't know exactly what
but I think it might give you a window of opportunity to sneak in and get her
out." Robb looked up at her. "When?" Margaery sat next to him. "My wedding to
Joffrey. The first day of the new century, a new era for House Lannister,
according to Tywin. Sansa will have to be there, I can get you a map and the
seating arrangements as well as supplies for a journey." He sat up and put a
hand on her shoulder, "You've done too much already, my lady. I won't risk your
life as well." She shook her head. "I care for Sansa as much as you do. In
other circumstances, she might have been my sister." Maybe I still want that.
That annoying voice that chirped little observations that she didn't care to
hear said. Margaery pushed herself up, "I should go." She made to leave, "One
other thing." Robb looked at her expectantly. "Yes?" Please don't do anything
stupid. "Jaime Lannister is back." Robb's face turned to something she didn't
recognize. "I know." How? Margaery nodded, unsure of what to say. She found
herself unwilling to leave his company. "What do you do here?" She asked. Robb
looked at her for a second.
"I kill my ghosts." The dead king looked past her, to Theon Greyjoy's broken
form strapped to a rack. "One at a time."
***** Chapter 6 *****
"I knew a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair..." Margaery sang
as she gathered apples to give to Robb. Swaying as she hummed, she made her way
to her chambers. "Lady Margaery." Margaery gave an exaggerated yelp and fell on
her backside with a whiff of theatrical flair. Seven hells! They didn't lie
when they said he could scare the piss out of you. "Lord Varys." She laughed,
brushing herself down. "You startled me." The Master of Whisperers smiled,
looking uncannily like a toad as he did so. "I do apologise, my lady. Alas,
part of my business is being neither seen nor heard." He extended a perfumed
hand. "At least allow me to assist you, as restitution." Not very subtle, my
lord. Margaery smiled and took it, allowing him to pull her up. Varys picked up
her basket and peeked inside. "Apples for the smallfolk, my lady?" Margaery
simply nodded, taking the basket back. "How generous. You truly are a kind
soul." What do you want, Spider? "I find that winning the hearts of the
smallfolk can go a long way, my lord." Varys nodded, "Ah, yes. A noble way to
save one's skin. So long as those apples are going to the smallfolk, and not to
wolves." Margaery hoped he couldn't see the blood drain from her face. "Rest
assured, my lord, I have remained far from any wolves one might encounter
within King's Landing." Varys merely inclined his head and nodded.
Gods, I've been stupid. Margaery sighed, running her fingers through her hair.
Of course someone was going to notice. I have to send someone else, someone I
can trust. "Mira?" Her handmaiden stuck her head through the door. "My lady? Do
you need anything?" Margaery smiled at the northern girl, reaching out with one
arm. "Come sit with me." Mira bowed her head and sat a respectful distance on
the bed, Margaery took her hands. "Mira, I can trust you, can I not?" Mira
seemed thrown by the question, 'Of course, my lady." Margaery put the basket on
the bed between them. "I need you to take this to the kingswood. There will be
a man there, give it to him, tell him I sent you and he won't hurt you." I
hope. "Tell nobody of your purpose, or who you are. Cover your face." Mira
nodded, picking up the basket and grabbing a cloak from the wardrobe. "Mira."
Margaery took a deep breath. "You may know him but you must not tell anyone,
not even Sera can know." Margaery took a locket out of her pocket. "Give this
to him as well, tell him he can sell it for coin if he needs to." Mira nodded
and slipped out of the room. A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
"Enter." Margaery stood as the door opened and in stepped Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Lord Commander." Margaery dropped into a curtsey. "May I help you?" She
stepped aside to let him in, glancing at his new hand. He noticed. "A gift from
my sister." Margaery nodded. "Her Grace has good taste." Jaime snorted. "A hook
would be more practical." Really, my lord? Cersei wouldn't know practicality if
it slapped her in the face. "How may I help you?" Jaime took a cursory glance
around her chamber. "Your brother came to speak to me." Oh? "He asked to be
named your sworn shield, despite being a sworn brother of the Kingsguard. I
would know why." Do not seek to lecture my brother on his vows, Kingslayer.
"Loras and I have always been close, closer than to our brothers. Wilias and
Garlan both had lordly duties by the time I was old enough to walk and play.
Loras was the only one I could confide in, who I could talk to freely and play
with through the night. It was difficult for both of us when he was sent to be
fostered at Storm's End. He just feels protective of me." At least we have
never shared a bed. Jaime nodded slowly. "Alright. I suppose I can't blame him.
Cersei and I were close as children as well." That would be putting it lightly.
"Loras is a Kingsguard, he serves under your command. King Joffrey has not
given specific instructions regarding my own security but I am well protected
by both my father's men and yours." I don't need another pair of eyes following
me around. "Regardless of that you are the future Queen Consort, maybe even the
future Queen Mother if the gods are good.“ Pah! Cersei will never allow me to
live long enough to be Queen Mother. I'll have to deal with her first. "After
the wedding, he will be assigned to you personally. For now, I've given him
leave to serve you when he is not guarding the king directly." No matter, Loras
has his weaknesses.
***** Chapter 7 *****
The Kingswood
 
"Tell me why." Blade in hand, the king approached the rack. "After all these
years, after everything we did together, why in the seven fucking hells did you
betray me?" He struck Theon Greyjoy across the face. The turncloak opened his
mouth. "I was taken. Dragged by Eddard Stark, the man who killed my brothers
and destroyed my home, stole my identity, tried to make me a slave." The dead
king stared. He's mad. What did they do to him? "Your brothers were killed by
Jason Mallister and Robert Baratheon. My father took you in, treated you like
one of us. Your father is insane, he clung to an idea that no longer has any
place in the world. You were family, you were my brother. When you bent the
knee to me, I told you that, now and forever. Remember those words, traitor?
Remember your vows?" Greyjoy spat, "The noose around my neck wasn't made of
rope, but it chafed, Stark. It chafed me raw. I was nothing more than a hostage
to Ned Stark or Robert Baratheon, to be slaugtered if my father toed the line."
He sobbed. "But I was wrong. I invaded, I took Winterfell under your nose, I
fucked a whore in your father's bed, I killed those boys." Theon screamed as
the king sliced through his fingers. "Do not call them that! Those boys were
your brothers, children! They were Bran and Rickon! You butchered them and
burned my home!" The king slipped a hand into one of the wounds, pulling it
apart. "Say their names! Say them! Say them!"
"They escaped!" Those two words rang in the air, deafening. Theon took a
rasping breath. "They escaped after I took Winterfell! Those boys were farmers,
nobody missed them! And I never burned Winterfell, it was mine! I was the
prince of Winterfell, I paid the Iron Price for it! You have no claim to it
anymore!" The king thrust his dagger into his heart, feeling the lifeblood
oozing down his hand. He closed his eyes and opened them again. He looked at
his hand, there was no dagger, and no blood.
The dead king slumped against the tree. Liar. They must be dead, it's just
stupid, false hope. Hope from a traitor, I hope the Boltons have fun with him.
He glanced up as Nymeria approached. The direwolf tilted her head. He nodded,
stood and drew his sword.
King's Landing
Margaery strode into her grandmother's chambers. "Leave us." She commanded. The
servants scrambled to obey. "What's the matter, gel?" What isn't? Margaery
didn't answer right away, crossing the room to lock the other doors. She wrung
her hands for a moment and gave her grandmother a piercing look. "What are you
planning?" Grandmother met her gaze. "I have no idea what you're talking about.
In any case, I've been meaning to speak to you about--" Margaery leaned in.
"Don't lie to me. I know when you're planning something. You're always a bit
more polite to somebody you're about to have killed." Grandmother scoffed, "And
how, pray tell, do you know?" She never could accept the fact that the student
sometimes surpasses the master. "You're always a tad polite to someone you've
marked for death. Remember that bard who came to sing for Wilias's nameday?"
Grandmother just looked at her. "You spent the whole evening demanding that he
be banished from Highgarden. Quite loudly, I might add. Then he approached you
to ask if you would like a song."
Grandmother tapped her chin in mock thought. "Oh, him. You must admit that he
was terrible, Margaery. You have some musical taste. The same can't be said for
your father, alas. I believe I told that godsawful bard to bugger off."
Margaery nodded slowly. "Yes, you did. Except that's not quite what you said.
You said 'Oh, please, do bugger off.' You don't say please. Except, you did
today. You asked Joffrey to tell you about that crossbow his uncle gave him.
You said please. You never say please to Lord Tywin, or Father, or even King
Robert. And that bard you spoke to? He was found in a ditch the morning after.
Don't ask me how I know." Grandmother stared at her for a moment. "Sit down,
gel."
***** Chapter 8 *****
The Kingswood
Why would Lady Margaery be so adamant about this? Mira shook her head slightly.
Her mistress was a conundrum to say the least. This is different, she's
erratic. She's never erratic. She yelped as her foot caught on a root, nearly
tripping her up. Why does she come here? A wolf howled in the distance,
startling her. It's alright, Mira. Don't panic. A few more moments of stumbling
through the forest took her to a tree. It's a face, like the ones on weirwoods
at home. She approached it, reaching out a hand to touch the bark.
"You really should watch your back." Mira screamed and turned, holding a knife
up. The man who had spoken was lugging a dead body. "This guard was following
you. I suppose I should thank you." Mira narrowed her eyes. Do I know him? "Why
should you thank me?" The man patted the dead guard's chestplate. "I needed
some Lannister armour and some new clothes, so... Thank you, Mira." What?! Is
that... "Robb?!" It wasn't a smile that appeared on Robb's face but the look
conveyed familiarity nonetheless. "Aye. It's me." Mira was so shocked that she
nearly dropped the basket. "Did- Are you the one Lady Margaery was talking
about?" Robb nodded and held out his hand. Mira passed the basket to him. "So,
your grace-" Robb rounded on her. "I'm not a grace, Mira. I'm not your king,
I'm not your lord. I'm just a man now." He sat beside the heart tree and opened
the basket, pulling out the maps and a wineskin. Mira watched as he unfolded
them and took a swig. "You're actually alive... But how?" Robb's face twitched.
"Margaery will tell you if you ask her." He seems to trust Lady Margaery
implicitly, and she trusts him. "What happened at the Twins? What happened to
my father?" Robb didn't speak for a second. "I'm sorry, Mira." I already knew
that my father was dead. Why do I need to hear him say it? "The Freys and the
Boltons sent your father's body north, along with the rest of the Northmen who
died. They should be at Ironrath by now." Mira nodded, turning away to stare
into the distance. "And the wolves? They're with you?" Robb nodded, "Don't
worry, they won't hurt a northerner. I have some control over them, stops them
from going completely feral. They'll keep their distance unless they sense a
threat." He stood and started removing the dead guard's armour. Mira pulled the
locket out of her dress. "Lady Margaery told me to give you this. She says to
sell it if you ever need coin." Robb stared at the locket for a moment and
tucked it away. "Give her my thanks." Mira nodded and started to walk back.
"Mira." She turned. "The North Remembers." Mira smiled and put her hand on her
heart. "The North Remembers." And Winter is Coming.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Maegor's Holdfast
Margaery paced around her chambers, not able to stay still. I knew that
Grandmother might be planning to kill Joffrey but murdering him at his wedding?
I thought we were better than Tywin Lannister? And Tommen is such a sweet boy.
The Iron Throne will tear him apart. She poured herself some wine to help clear
her head. Margaery only just swallowed it before the door rattled slightly as
keys were frantically inserted into the lock. Margaery rushed to open the door
and Mira stumbled in, eyes wide and haggard.
"Mira! Are you alright?" Margaery grasped the girl's shoulders until her
knuckles were white. Mira swallowed and met her gaze. "Robb Stark?! He's..."
Margaery smiled as reassuringly as she could. "Yes. Roose Bolton failed to kill
him at the Twins. He came here for his sister. The wolves in the kingswood...
They're with him." Mira nodded, swallowing thickly. "Why are you helping him?"
Good question. "He saved my life. Loras and I were in the kingswood when the
wolves found us, he drove them away and... Sansa Stark deserves to be with her
brother. After everything she's been through, I feel responsible for her. I
want to help her. Did you give everything to him? The locket as well?" Mira
nodded. "Yes, my lady. He sends his thanks." Thank the gods. Margaery smiled,
exhaling. "Thank you, Mira. I don't need to tell you that this must be kept
between us." Her handmaiden smiled and nodded. "Of course not, my lady."
The Tower of the Hand
"Lord Varys, how goes the war?" Lord Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the
Small Council, his steely green gaze directed at the Master of Whisperers. "The
North is all but pacified, my Lord Hand. With the exception of House Karstark,
Maege Mormont and Howland Reed, all of Robb Stark's most powerful generals were
among the host at the Twins. Edmure Tully is in a dungeon with his new wife,
Emmon Frey is the new Lord of Riverrun by his grace's generosity, Roose Bolton
has men moving on Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte to repel the Ironborn scourge.
He plans to rebuild Winterfell to accommodate his new standing as Warden of the
North. The hostages at the Twins will go a long way to helping this though,
regrettably, Brynden Tully is not among them." Tyrion remained quiet, knowing
not to interrupt his father's victory parade. Cersei, predictably, did not.
"The Blackfish is one man, he is not a threat." Tyrion resisted the urge to
cringe as his father slowly turned to look at his sister. "The Blackfish is
more than just a man. His reputation as a warrior rivals that of King Robert or
the Young Wolf. Hoster Tully was not always as wise as the Riverlanders would
have us believe but he was no fool. The Blackfish is made of stern stuff. He
will fight to put Robb Stark's heir on the Northern Throne. How is that
endeavour progressing, Tyrion? Sansa Stark is far more beautful than any tavern
whore and I believe you've had younger."
Oh, smile that venomous smile of yours, sister. We'll see who's smiling when
I'm done cleaning up your fucking mess. Tyrion cleared his throat, gulping down
his third glass of wine. "I am many things. A drunk, yes. A whoremonger, a
dwarf, a politician. One thing I am not, however, is a rapist. The North will
be more pliable to someone who hasn't violated their beloved king's sister
against her will. Roose Bolton seems content with Winterfell, it seems a shame
to take it from him so soon." That all too familiar flash of disappointment
appeared in his father's eyes. "Clearly you're a bigger idiot than Cersei made
you out to be. The only reason Roose Bolton can hold Winterfell for more a week
is the fact that we have enough hostages to have leverage over the Stark
loyalists and the Ironborn invasion. The North will only bend to someone of
Stark blood, your heir will give us Winterfell. The Riverlands will bend the
knee or face extermination, Joffrey and Cersei will give us Highgarden, Petyr
Baelish will deliver us the Vale, Myrcella will give us Dorne, the Stormlands
and the Crownlands are the king's by law. Removing Robb Stark and the brothers
Baratheon has opened the door for a new age for House Lannister. The dawn will
come on Joffrey's wedding, the third centenary of Aegon's Conquest. None shall
question us again."
Tyrion resisted the urge to snort. "I imagine the Targeryens said something
very similar all those years ago. It's an admirable plan but fraught with risk.
There are too many unknowns and almost no constants. I will repeat myself. I
will not rape Sansa Stark." Father leaned back in his chair. "Where is this new
honour coming from? You do not wish to dishonour her? Understandable yet
irrelevant, she is your wife. She is yours to take however you see fit. There
is no dishonour in a union announced by the High Septon himself." You forget,
father, that the Starks do not worship the Seven. "Whatever your ridiculous
code of honour, you do her less honour by not bedding her than you would by
taking your rights. If you cannot bring yourself to do this, I will have
Joffrey take her as a mistress and you will claim his children as yours. What
will it be?" Cersei opened her mouth to protest but one look from Father shut
her up. "Well?" Tyrion gritted his teeth in anger but stayed silent.
"I thought not. There is one more thing. Last night, one of our guards went
missing. Normally I would consider it desertion and order a hunt for the
traitor but everything points to the Kingswood. The wolves are bolder now,
people are beginning to think Robb Stark's ghost now haunts House Lannister.
That we are doomed. Lord Varys, do you know of any activity that we should be
concerned with?" This isn't normal for Father. He seems... agitated. Could the
wolves be getting to him?" One shared glance with Cersei told Tyrion that she
was thinking the exact same. The eunuch's face was blank as he responded. "No,
my Lord Hand."
***** Chapter 10 *****
King's Landing
"Sleep well, my lady." Margaery kissed Mira's temple and pulled the covers over
her. "I will be back by first light." Mira nodded, "Good luck, Lady Margaery."
Margaery smiled and pulled one of Mira's cloaks around her shoulders, bringing
the hood up and sheathing a dagger at her hip. The secrecy was perhaps
excessive, But it is necessary since Varys is aware of what is going on. It can
never hurt to be careful.
The Kingswood
Margaery found Robb standing beside a tree stump, muttering curses as he
fiddled with the straps on his armor. He didn't notice her approaching so she
leaned on a tree and watched, biting her cheek to suppress a grin. After
enjoying the spectacle for a few moments, she walked up behind him and secured
his chestplate. "I thought you were a soldier." She grinned. Robb grunted,
"I've never worn full plate before, plus I had a squire during the war." The
merriment in his voice was almost strange and yet Margaery felt infinitely more
cheerful. "Ah ha! The great Robb Stark, Lord of the North, can't even put his
armor on without help!" Robb's mouth twitched, he didn't correct her when she
called him a lord. "It strikes me as unladylike, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell,
that you know how to prepare armor. Perhaps I should recruit you as a squire?"
Margaery chuckled. Why do I want him to laugh so much? "Even I got bored of
needlework and cookery once in a while, my lord. I don't want to have a
completely boring life." Robb licked his lips and glanced at Nymeria as she
skulked towards them. Sadness filled Robb's eyes as the direwolf curled beneath
the tree.
Margaery examined his face. "You're thinking about your sister, aren't you?"
She smiled gently as Robb looked at her for a moment. "Oh, don't look at me
like that! My brother sometimes gets that same look in his eyes whenever he
sees a Baratheon crest." Robb sighed and petted Nymeria gently, staring into
the direwolf's eyes. "A part of me died with Grey Wind at the Twins. A piece of
my soul I can never bring back. If Arya is dead, I have to believe that a part
of her lives inside Nymeria." When he saw Margaery frown, he patted the spot
next to him. "I suppose you'd like to know how we met our direwolves." Margaery
didn't move for a moment before sitting down.
"And there she was, the first direwolf south of the Wall in thousands of years.
She whelped her pups as she died. There were six of them. One for each Stark,
even for Jon Snow. It was a sign from the Gods, my men said. Grey Wind formed
more of my legend than any of my battles ever did, a direwolf for my banners."
Margaery swallowed thickly. "How did the mother die?" Robb's head snapped
around. "What?" She just tilted her head, "The mother of your wolves, you said
that she died. How?" Robb fell silent. He got up and threw his helmet at a
tree. "Fuck!" Margaery scrambled up and took his hand. "What?" Instead of
pulling his hand free, Robb tightened his grip. "It... It was a stag. A stag
managed to impale her on its antlers, but died immediately after." Margaery's
eyes widened as the significance hit her. "The Stag and the Direwolf. House
Baratheon and House Stark." Robb buried his head in his hands. "Why didn't I
see it? How could we have all missed it?" Margaery snarled, putting her hands
around his neck. "You will not blame yourself for missing what nobody else
could see, do you understand me? You came here to get your sister and I intend
to help you do that. Focus on why you are here." Robb stared for a moment.
"Aye, my lady. Show me what you have."
Margaery watched him pore over the maps, processing and eliminating strategies
and escape routes. This is what he does best. Not fighting, not ruling, not
diplomacy but planning. No wonder Tywin Lannister couldn't beat him in the
field. Their hands touched a few times as they plotted their escape route from
the wedding, each time Margaery had to swallow an odd feeling in her belly.
"Where will you go?" The question seemed to catch Robb off guard. "Find a place
for my sister and then return North. Maybe I'll join the Night's Watch, become
a ranger. Might give me a head start on my debts. What will you do?" Margaery
didn't know how to respond. "I'll probably marry the next king, spend the rest
of my days here. Giving the king children and living a happy life." A lie. Robb
took her hand, mirroring her earlier gesture. "Margaery, I was once a king. I
can tell you from experience that being royalty will not give you happiness. If
you have to pursue something, anything, find someone to love and cherish as I
did, and do not break as I did." Why does he make feel like a silly girl with
romantic dreams. I am to be queen, surely there is happiness there. Robb's
words echoed inside her head. Margaery smiled sadly. "I have found love, Robb.
But I can never take it." She walked back to the capital, tears streaming down
her face.
***** Chapter 11 *****
The Kingswood
Father, guide me. Mother, forgive me. Sansa, be strong. Arya-- "I see you've
started praying again." Robb's jaw fell open. "Father?!" Eddard Stark smiled.
"I'm proud of you, my son. So proud." Robb shook his head. "How could you be? I
betrayed everything you taught me, I broke my oath with the Freys, I ignored my
councillors, practically served Winterfell to Balon Greyjoy and got thousands
of good men killed. I do not deserve your pride." Father clapped a hand on his
shoulder. "None of us are perfect, Robb. You were forced to carry an
unimaginable burden, one that I could not lift given the chance. Every choice
you made, you made in the name of your people. To me, or to any Stark, there is
no higher honour. Your losses came from your compassion and your strive to do
the right thing, your ability to see the best of everyone. That is not to be
frowned upon, it is a gift. You made your people love you, Robb. Even those who
are not your people." Father gestured in the direction Margaery had left. "Do
you deny that she has feelings for you, just as you do for her?" Robb didn't
need to think as he responded. "No. Yet I cannot have her anymore than she can
have me." Father shook his head. "Do not let your dead cast their shadow over
you, Robb. I know that you loved Talisa and that it will be hard but you must
let her go. Her ghost only haunts you because you let it. It does not matter
how many times you fall, it is getting up again that matters. You want to be
with her, so be with her. Save Sansa, save Margaery and keep on going." Robb
swallowed, "Father, I--"
Robb gasped and sat up from the ground. He pulled out the locket and opened it.
He had made his choice.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Purple Wedding time! Oh, goody!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
King's Landing
Margaery chewed her lip and wrung her hands as her handmaidens prepared her
wedding gown. Why do we make gowns if all we end up doing is tearing them apart
to get a glimpse of the bride's body? She frowned slightly. When did I start
thinking like that? It seemed normal when it happened to me and Renly. "Are you
alright, my lady?" One of the maids asked after noticing her expression. "Yes,
of course. I merely lost myself in thought." The maid nodded though before she
could continue her work, Grandmother walked in. "Come along, ladies. I believe
the king is keen to marry his bride sometime today. Hop to it!" She approached
Margaery and gave her an approving look. "The boy will fall over himself when
he sees you, my dear." Grandmother reached out to 'straighten' her dress.
Practicing for Sansa Stark, Grandmother? Margaery forced a smile. "Yes, it is
truly exquisite, Grandmother. I must remember to thank Father for it." Margaery
stepped down from the dais. Grandmother snorted, "Yes, well I felt like we
ought to have some say over the dress considering we are footing the bill for
half of the wedding. If Tywin or Cersei had their way, you would be dressed in
Lannister crimson or nothing at all." Is Joffrey not a Baratheon? Surely black
and gold would be more appropriate. "Tyrion Lannister appears to be the only
one with any common sense and even he manages to dissappoint." Margaery pouted
slightly. "Well, losing half of your nose would be enough to mellow anyone.
Perhaps he feels more exposed than he used to." Before Olenna could make
another snide comment, the door burst open and her father, flanked by Garlan
and Loras, marched into the chamber with the most pompous, self important
expression Margaery had ever seen. "Margaery, it's time to go to the sept."
The Great Sept of Baelor, the purest structure in the Seven Kingdoms. Or at
least it was until Joffrey took Eddard Stark's head. Margaery shook her head
slightly. And even then. She resisted the urge to snort and instead broke into
a dazzling smile that made men drop whatever they were holding. The doors
opened and the thousands of people packed inside turned to look at her. At the
far end, King Joffrey stood with the High Septon and Ser Jaime Lannister kept
watch at a respectful distance. His Holiness had protested at the sword hanging
on Jaime's right hip, arguing that in the house of the gods, no weapons should
be permitted. Cersei had, naturally, blown the entire thing out of proportion
and the row had only died down once Tyrion pointed out that while Joffrey had
indeed been born and reared in the light of the Seven, Stannis, Balon Greyjoy
and whoever controlled the Northmen who still rebelled were not. As such, the
sanctity of the sept meant very little to them and surely, as King by the grace
of the Gods, Joffrey would be a likely target for such heretics and would need
protection. Ser Jaime had, after all, taken taken his vows in this very sept,
swearing his life to the Kingsguard. Eventually, the High Septon had acquiesed
and permitted the presence of the Lord Commander. And yet it will not be
enough.
Margaery could almost feel Joffrey leering at her, lust practically dripping
from his eyes. It's funny. I was married to a man who did not want me and I
wish he did, yet here I am. Marrying a boy who wants to take me here and now,
yet I do not want to bed him. A few images flashed into her mind, too fast to
see though she could make out red hair. Despite her misgivings, Margaery's
smile did not waver as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm, she
climbed the steps. Past Tywin Lannister, his stony gaze watching the ceremony
unfold, Cersei glaring daggers at her, Tyrion giving her a look of sympathy and
Sansa staring at the ground. Her father took his place by Garlan and his wife.
Loras was dressed in the white of the Kingsguard, having forgone his armour for
the initial ceremony, and stood beside them. Margaery took Joffrey's arm and
they continued up the steps to stand before the High Septon. "Let it be known
that Margaery of the House Tyrell and Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and
Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul." The High Septon bound their
wrists together with a golden ribbon. "Cursed be he who would tear them
asunder!" The declaration choed throughout the chamber, the challenge unmet.
They turned toward the crowd. "With this kiss, I pledge my love."
As the guests made their way to the wedding breakfast, Margaery scanned the
crowd, looking for Robb among the soldiers. She couldn't help but feel worried
that she couldn't see him. She took her place at Joffrey's side, smiling for
all the world to see. Her father approached the table. "Your graces, to
celebrate the momentous occasion of the union of our families-" Margaery
resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "-I present to you a wedding gift." He
gestured grandly and two servants placed the largest chalice Margaery had ever
seen. "May you and my daughter live long and drink hearty." Joffrey smiled and
Margaery felt her skin crawl. "Thank you, Lord Tyrell. Or perhaps I might call
you father?" Mace went the colour of beetroot and puffed up his chest. "I would
be honored, your grace." He returned to his seat. Tyrion Lannister approached
next. "Your grace, I present you The Lives of Four Kings, authored by Grand
Maester Kaeth and one of the few in existance." I would be surprised if Joffrey
has ever read a book, let alone one that large. The king regarded his uncle for
a moment. "In times of war, wisdom is a precious commodity. Thank you, uncle."
Tyrion gave Margaery a skeptical look and took his place at the end of the
table, next to Sansa Stark. Margaery watched as her grandmother approached the
girl and fiddled with her hair. Tywin Lannister strode up to the table. He
placed a sword in front of Joffrey. "One of two Valyrian Steel swords in the
capital, your grace. Fresh forged by the finest blacksmiths in the known
world." Where did they get so much Valyrian steel? The realisation hit Margaery
as she stared at Joffrey, who promptly attacked the book gifted him by his
uncle. That's Robb's sword. They melted down Ice. Robb had told her about the
sword, how he had prepared for his father to pass it to him as his father had
done. One final insult to Ned Stark.
"The time has come to contemplate our history." Joffrey announced, "I give you,
King Joffrey, Stannis, Renly, Balon Greyjoy and Robb Stark!" Margaery watched
the dwarves perform as Joffrey laughed so hard he began spitting wine
everywhere, as the dwark playing Joffrey started humping the puppet wolf's
head. Only Joffrey was laughing. Her stomach churned as Joffrey turned his
attention toward his uncle, humiliating him in front of the entire feast and
Grandmother slipped the poison in his drink. "Look, the pie!" She exclaimed as
Joffrey looked close to ordering Tyrion's head. Joffrey gave him one last
venomous look and picked up Widows Wail, the sword he had been gifted, slicing
through and killing two of the doves in the process.
"Uncle, where are you going?" Joffrey asked through a mouthful of pie. Tyrion
simply smiled. "I had thought to change into dry clothing, your grace." He
gestured at the wine stains on his doublet. "No, no, no. You are my cupbearer,
fill my cup." To his credit, Tyrion gave no visible reaction to the latest
insult. "Come on, the pie's dry." Tyrion filled the cup and held it out.
Joffrey took a long gulp. "Good wine." And then he started coughing.
"He's choking!" Margaery screamed. "Idiots, help your king!" Grandmother yelled
as Jaime Lannister burst through the crowd and Cersei scrambled to Joffrey's
side. Margaery took a few steps back, picking up Widow's Wail and grabbing
Sansa's arm. "Sansa, I need you to come with me." The girl looked up at her.
"But Marg--" Margaery yanked her up. "Now!" They scrambled away, shoving Dontos
Hollard out of the way. "My Jonquil!" He yelled as they passed. Margaery led
them around the corner only find the way blocked by two Lannister guards. One
of them drew his sword-
And Robb thrust it straight into the other man's neck. "Come on!" He roared and
swung a fist at a Gold Cloak who was coming up a nearby stairway, sending him
crashing down. They ran through the small streets, eventually reaching a hut on
the shore of Blackwater Bay. Robb barred the door. "Margaery." Sansa whispered,
"What's going on? Who is he?" Robb grinned, "Don't you recognise your brother,
Sansa?" He took off his helmet and Sansa froze for a second. Margaery stepped
towards her and she surged forward, nearly knocking Robb off his feet. "I
thought you were dead." She sobbed. Robb laughed when he noticed her pinching
herself. "You aren't dreaming. I'm here, I'm sorry." Tears ran down their
cheeks as they hugged each other tightly. Sansa pulled free and embraced
Margaery. "You helped us." She whispered. Margaery squeezed her lightly. "I
wouldn't be a good sister if I didn't." Over Sansa's shoulder, Robb gazed at
her sadly.
Margaery started undoing her hair as Sansa climbed into the boat and hid under
the covers. Robb approached her and as she embraced him, he whispered in her
ear. "You can't stay here." Margaery leaned back and looked at his face, he was
deadly serious. "Most of the guards in the capital are loyal to Cersei. You
fled the scene of Joffrey's death, she'll think you're involved." I am... And
he's right. He took her hand. "Come with us. If you want to go back to
Highgarden, say the word and I'll take you. You saved me, Margaery. From
myself. You helped me save my sister, let me save you too. You told me that you
found love and that you couldn't take it. I can help you take it if you need me
to." Margaery licked her lips. "You can help me take it, by taking it
yourself." Robb looked at her for a moment, for what felt like forever, and
bent down to kiss her.
Chapter End Notes
     If you're going to make a club saying this chapter sucks, I call dibs
     on president.
***** Chapter 13 *****
King's Landing
 
"He's gone, Cersei. Let the boy go." Tyrion watched as Tywin pulled Cersei's
arms from around Joffrey. She turned her gaze to him. "You did this. You
poisoned my son." She glared at the Kingsguard. "Take him!" Cersei screeched as
Mace Tyrell started shouting. "Margaery? Where is my daughter?" Ser Boros
Blount grabbed Tyrion. "Stand down." Jaime ordered. Blount was about to retort
when Cersei looked around. "Where is Sansa? Where is Sansa Stark?" Serveral
small arguments broke out before Tywin rose to his full height and bellowed.
"Silence!" It was as if all of the noise was sucked out of the hall. "The king
is dead, the queen is missing along with my son's wife. Seal the gates, mount
the walls. Pull the drawbridge at Maegor's Holdfast. Nobody leaves the
capital!" Soldiers and servants immediately scrambled to follow his commands,
leaving the terrace clear except for the startled guests. "Father, Tyrion is
behind this." Cersei whispered as Tyrion picked up Joffey's cup. He scoffed.
"If I wanted Joffrey dead, I wouldn't do it like this. It's so painfully
obvious that it's me. And what about Margaery? If she's innocent and I am not,
why is she not here while I am?" He poured the wine out onto his hand and two
crystals fell out. Mace Tyrell scurried up to them. "My lord, I assure you that
Margaery had nothing but affection for His Grace, Seven save his soul-" Fat lot
of good it did him. "-And I might point out that Margaery was drinking from the
same cup as Joffrey. Surely she would never--" Cersei snarled at him. "I don't
want to hear a word about your whore of a daughter after she abandons my son to
die and takes that traitor's daughter with her!" Father immediately stepped
forward. "Ser Meryn, take the Queen Regent to her chambers and keep her there."
The knight hesitated and Jaime stepped forward. "Now." Go, you useless coward.
Walk your master home.
"My lord!" Pycelle hobbled across the terrace and gasped. "Oh, the cruelty of
men! Our noble king is gone!" Very thespian of you, Grand Maester. Perhaps you
should have joined Varys in his mummer's show. He held his hand out. "Pycelle,
what is this?" The old man took the crystals and squinted at them. "Poison, my
lord." Behind Pycelle's back, Jaime rolled his eyes. Father glared at Joffrey's
body. "Yes, Pycelle. Anyone with a hint of intelligence could have deduced
that. What kind of poison is it?" He snapped. Pycelle gulped. "An incredibly
rare and terrible poison. The Strangler." Tyrion frowned, the crystals seemed
familiar. "The Citadel possesses the Strangler does it not? Certain maesters
wear a link with a crystal inside, not many but enough for the Citadel to
actively synthesize it?" Pycelle pulled at his chain and showed them the link.
"Correct." Tyrion rubbed his eyes. No, that's not it. Where have I seen them
before? It hit him. "Sansa had crystals exactly like that in her hairnet.
Olenna Tyrell... Spoke to her. Maybe they passed them between each other. It
would also explain why Margaery isn't here." Father ground his teeth as he
mulled it over. "Jaime," He said eventually, "Take ten of your best men and
confine Lady Olenna to her chambers." Mace Tyrell spluttered. "But- My lord..."
Father waved his hand dismissively.
"Not to worry, Lord Tyrell. You are not a suspect in the king's murder.
However, as Hand of the King, I must track down those responsible and bring
them to justice. That means that I must consider all evidence. Tyrion has
implicated your mother in this, that does not mean that she is guilty." He
turned to Tyrion. "But he has also failed to give me a reason why he is not a
suspect. Tyrion Lannister, you are under arrest on suspicion of regicide and
high treason."
***** Chapter 14 *****
Blackwater Bay
 
"The bells are still ringing." Margaery sat next to Robb on the stern and
rested her head on his shoulder. "Aye. Joffrey's dead. I only wish I could have
done it myself." She nodded. "I can understand that. I'm sure Sansa wouldn't
object anyway." They whirled around in alarm as Sansa whimpered beneath the
blanket she had curled under. "Sansa?" Robb pulled the cover away to see Sansa
clawing at her arm, blood pouring down her fingers. Robb grabbed her arms and
held them away and Margaery tore a part of her dress off to cover the wound.
"Sansa, what in seven hells are you doing?!" The girl curled up even further.
"I don't want to sleep. If I sleep, I'll wake up and I'll still be in King's
Landing, you'll be dead and Joffrey will be alive. This'll just be stupid dream
to me. A stupid dream from a stupid girl, with stupid notions of noble knights
and galant kings. I'm responsible for what happened to Father. I was the one
who went to Cersei, I thought that Joffrey would love me if I did." Robb's face
set into a stony expression of apathy. Margaery watched him digest the
information. Please don't snap again. He didn't speak for what felt like
eternity. Then he shook his head.
"We've all had stupid dreams, Sansa. I once dreamt that I could be King in the
North, that I could break my vows and not suffer the consequences." He grasped
her shoulders tightly. "But you are not responsible for what Joffrey did. It
wasn't you who betrayed Father, it was Littlefinger, Renly Baratheon and Cersei
Lannister." He pushed her gently back down. "Now get some sleep before I play
the lordly royal older brother card." For the first time in forever, Sansa
Stark fell asleep laughing.
***** Chapter 15 *****
The Gullet
 
Margaery sat up from where she'd slept to see Robb holding Widow's Wail in his
hands. "This is my father's sword, isn't it?" He asked as though he didn't know
the answer, not looking at her. Margaery could only nod. "Part of it. Tywin
Lannister melted your father's sword into two smaller ones. I don't know where
the other one is." She put a hand on his shoulder. "But this one is yours
again." Robb's hand covered hers and he tugged her down lightly to sit next to
him. She watched as he drew the sword all the way, letting the light hit the
red ripples in the Valyrian steel. "What did Joffrey call it?" The question
surprised Margaery and she stared at him for a second before answering.
"Widow's Wail." Robb snickered, his shoulders shaking slightly with merriment.
"Well, credit where it's due." He laughed. He looks so much younger when he
laughs. "Widow's Wail." Robb shook his head before looking forlornly at the
sword. "Will you call it Ice again?" Margaery laced her fingers through his.
"No." Robb sheathed the sword. "If I ever find the other sword, I'll do what I
can to make it whole again. Then it will be Ice. But for now, it can be Crimson
Snow."
They sat together, looking out at the sea with their arms around each other.
Margaery shivered as the biting wind sent goosebumps up her bare arms and back.
"Margaery, you're going to have to change. That dress looks ridiculous and
you'll freeze to death once we're past Crackclaw Point." She looked down at
herself and sighed. I suppose he's right. Margaery pulled away and grinned at
him flirtatiously. "Are you sure that's the only reason?" Robb smirked and
rolled his eyes. "Alright, I suppose that wasn't very subtle but my point still
stands. If you're really so conscious about your modesty, I'll turn my back."
Margaery chuckled as she picked up a tunic and some breeches. "Not really, I
went through a bedding ceremony. You tend to feel a tad less self-conscious
after something like that." Robb nodded. "I'll take your word for it." He took
a sip from a wineskin. Margaery raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have one?" Robb
shook his head. "I never liked the idea of something like that being so public.
That and Talisa and I had already... Ahem."
Margaery gasped and covered her mouth in mock surprise. "And here I thought you
Starks were honourable beyond reproach." She yelped as Robb grabbed her and
held her down, pressing his lips against hers. By the time he pulled away, they
were both panting slightly. "You're an awfully good kisser for a maiden, you
know." He muttered in her ear. I suppose you have me there. "I may have had a
few flights of fancy when I was twelve," She admitted, turning them over so
that she straddled him. "But surely the dashing heir to Winterfell had a few
opportunities as well?" Game on, Stark, but I play dirty. Robb grinned, "Of
course I did. Hodor, Maege Morm-- I'm joking!" He held his hands up as Margaery
raised a fist. "Beth Cassel, once, because I lost a bet." Margaery licked her
lips teasingly. "Clearly she was a good teacher. You're not so bad yourself, my
wolf." The words slipped out of her mouth before she registered them. My wolf?
Really? Is that the best term of endearment I could come up with? Oh, bugger it
anyway. Loras was always the hopeless romantic. She blushed furiously as Robb
looked at her with eyebrows raised. He sat up and brushed her cheek gently.
"High praise indeed, my rose." He chuckled as Margaery blushed even more.
***** Chapter 16 *****
The Bay of Crabs
"So where are we going exactly?" Margaery picked up a map and searched for any
safe haven among the dots. If we go to Highgarden, we might be safe. Robb took
the map and placed his finger north east of King's Landing. "We're down here."
He traced a line across the parchment. "We're going to Greywater Watch." His
finger drew a circle in the middle of a swamp. "We move up the Trident as far
as possible. With any luck we'll at least pass Harrenhal. We don't have enough
food to sail to the Neck. Best case scenario, we reach the Green Fork. We'll
have to go on foot eventually or we'll run into the Twins and I only want to
return to that hellshole to watch it burn." Margaery frowned, racking her
brain. "Why Greywater Watch? The Riverlords would be happy to take you in, you
were their king." He shook his head. "The Freys hold Riverrun and my uncle
hostage. The Riverlords may not think much of Edmure but they won't dare make a
move while he and Roslin Frey are at the Twins. Greywater Watch is where
Howland Reed will be. He was my father's greatest friend, he would never betray
us to the Boltons." She looked at the map again. "But that's a swamp... You
can't build a castle in a swamp, can you?" Robb grinned, "Greywater isn't in a
swamp, it's onthe swamp. It floats."
He pointed at the Neck. "The Boltons won't be able to find it while they're
keeping the other lords in line. It'll be safe there and we can plan our next
move." Margaery raised an eyebrow. "We could already be at the mouth of the
Trident, why are we waiting?" Robb turned to her. "Two reasons. We need the
wolves to have a head start on us, they can clear out any danger when we have
to go on land. What about you? I can still take you to Highgarden if you want."
Margaery's temper flared, her eyes looked like they might drip poison instead
of tears. "If I go back to Highgarden, they'll drag me back to King's Landing
and make me marry Tommen. I'll be Maid Margaery, the silly girl who ran away
from her own wedding. Cersei will have me killed the moment I become Queen."
She snapped tearfully. "I'm a suspect in Joffrey's murder, do you really think
that a Lannister court would give me justice?" Robb took her hands. "It isn't
safe with me. I can't put your death on my conscience." Margaery grabbed him
and pressed herself against him. "I'm not going anywhere." She whispered in his
ear.
Robb nodded and kissed her forehead. "I suppose I can't argue with that." He
sighed, stumbling as he took a step backwards. "Robb, when was the last time
you slept?" There were dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids were
drooping slightly. When he didn't answer she pushed past him and lifted the
canvas covering Sansa. "She's been asleep all day, it's your turn. In." She
prodded Sansa a few times to wake the girl up and pulled her away so that Robb
could lie down. He was asleep before he'd even rested his head properly.
***** Chapter 17 *****
The Bay of Crabs
 
"Sansa, please. Just le--" Sansa wrenched her arm out of Margaery's grip. Does
she want to die? Margaery huffed and reached out to tentatively place a gentle
hand on the other girl's shoulder. This time, she flinched but didn't try to
move away. "Please. I can't let you die from the cold. Not now, after
everything we've been through." When Sansa didn't make a sound, Margaery
pointed at Robb. "If you won't do it for me, do it for your brother. Your
brother who tore himself apart trying to save you. Robb has lost so much
already, to lose you won't just break him. It would shatter him into a million
pieces, he would be beyond saving. Please, for him if not for me." Sansa's
expression softened. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" She croaked. The
question took Margaery completely off guard, leaving her stumbling for an
answer. Why is it so difficult for me to answer? I've never thought about it.
"I... I... I think I am, yes. I love him and I think he does love me too."
Sansa nodded. "And you'd do anything for him and he'd do anything for you, even
if it meant betraying everything he's ever known?" I know he'd never ask that
of me and I would never ask it of him. Margaery stayed silent, not knowing what
to say. Sansa turned and rose to her height, boring into her eyes. "That's what
I felt for Joffrey, I betrayed my own father and my sister before that. I lied
for him, I got my direwolf killed and made Arya drive Nymeria away, I told
Cersei about my father's plans. They used me."
Behind her tears, something shone in her eyes, something terrible that made
Margaery want to cringe. "I saw you in the throne room, swearing your love for
Joffrey just like you did with Renly Baratheon. You used them like pieces in a
game. How do I know you won't do the same to Robb?" Margaery clenched her fist,
resisting the urge to punch the other girl. Where is the sweet girl who became
my friend? What happened to her and who is this in front of me? "Renly
Baratheon was my friend, he never desired me nor I him." She retorted through
clenched teeth. "I did what I did to survive, I was as much a piece as you,
Sansa. Do you think I wanted Joffrey? After what you told me? I married him
because he was king, because my father and grandmother told me to. Robb is not
a king and I am here of my own will, Sansa. I am here because I fell in love
with your brother. I am his and he is mine, if he will have me. Now please, for
the sake of my conscience, put the bloody breeches on!" Margaery snapped. Sansa
held her gaze for a moment and obliged. She tore her gown off and Margaery saw
the purple bruises that marred the creamy skin on her back, several more
bruises spread over the backs of her thighs. That could have been my life. The
chilling realisation left her wondering What if? as she snuggled against Robb,
listening to his heartbeat and feeling him breathing as he slept.
***** Chapter 18 *****
The Black Cells
 
"This isn't bad, as dungeon cells go. Four walls, a bucket, a bed. Very roomy.
I was put in a cage, chained to a pole whilst covered in shit with that damned
wolf that Stark kept around as a pet to be dragged from camp to camp. Those
northerners are a loud bunch." Tyrion turned. "Are you trying to make me feel
better? Is any of that supposed to lift my mood?" He shook his head at his
brother. "I'm as good as dead. Executed for a crime that I did not commit. This
is Lysa Arryn all over again." Jaime frowned. "So you aren't guilty, that's why
you'll get a fair trial." Tyrion snorted loudly, a sardonic smile spreading
across his features. "You think I'm going to get a fair trial here of all
places?! My trial will be presided by three judges, at least one of whom wants
nothing more than an excuse to kill me, remove the stain on his damned ego, who
just so happens to be my own father. Don't get me started on our own sweet
sister. She might not even wait for a trial. Should I turn away and close my
eyes?" Might add a bit more tension to the moment. Jaime sighed. "If you must
know, she did ask. She wants you and Sansa and Margaery Tyrell's heads on
pretty little spikes. Not that I blame her, her son died in her arms." Ha! The
only time Cersei has ever been sentimental about having someone killed beyond
being pissed at them because they refuse to kiss her sagging, fleshy backside.
"Just her son, then?" Tyrion cocked his head. Jaime eyed him dangerously,
"Careful, Tyrion. I'm one of the only allies you have right now." Tyrion
shrugged. "As if I care about who did who or what. Except for the Tyrells, they
interest me. Tell me, how are they responding to recent events?" It was Jaime's
turn to shrug. "Mace Tyrell is still stomping around protesting his innocence
and placing the blame on Sansa Stark. Lady Olenna was confined to her chambers
until she gave the Kettleblacks such a bollocking they practically pissed
themselves. There's been no word from Margaery Tyrell." Of course there hasn't
been word from her, she's a suspect in the king's murder. If she's anywhere
near as smart as her grandmother, she's gone.
"Do you think she really did it?" Tyrion shook his head. "Sansa Stark? No. She
isn't behind this." Jaime raised an eyebrow. "Surely she had more reason than
any one? Especially the Tyrells, it was their victory parade. Mace Tyrell has
been bent on getting his daughter on the throne for as long as anyone can
remember. They finally got there, for a second time, a marriage to the king.
What do they gain from the king dying?" Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It's staring us in the face. Joffrey was beyond controlling even to Margaery
and the Queen of Thorns. Tommen, on the other hand, is a sweet, sensitive
child. Easy to manipulate, easy to keep on a leash. What goes wrong is that
Margaery dissappears with Sansa Stark, meaning that she clearly had her own
plan. Either way, whether I'm right about Lady Olenna or not, Sansa Stark is
not a killer. Yet."
***** Chapter 19 *****
Where am I? What's going on? Robb tried to look around but he couldn't move his
neck. He couldn't move anything. Am I... In a pen? There was the smell of
burning and the sound of screaming. Then, he heard it. And who are you, the
proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's
all the truth I know. Robb sat up and howled, clawing at the door, trying to
break it down. Foot steps aproached the door to the pen and Robb looked up to
see the crossbows aimed at him. Wha-- The bolt hit Robb on the shoulder, then
another in the chest, another to the stomach. He whimpered, collapsing onto his
side, watching through the opening. The Freys charged into the northmen, fully
armed and armored against drunken, sluggish soft men. In the midst of the
chaos, a boy stood out, huddled in a corner staring at Robb where he lay. Wait,
that's not a boy. That's Arya. Arya stared for a moment before someone stepped
behind her and hit her on the back of the head, carrying her away. The door to
the pen flew open, two men armed with an axe stepped in. "Time to crown the
king." One of them grinned and brought the axe down on Robb's neck. They picked
up his head and carried it into the castle. A headless corpse was dumped on a
table and the men threw Robb's head beside it, tying the body to a post and
nailing Robb's head on top. Robb lurched as they pushed him up on a horse.
"King in the North! King in the North! King in the North! KING IN THE NORTH!"
The Riverlands
Robb jerked awake and screamed. Margaery yelped and almost jumped away. "Sorry,
I'm sorry." He rubbed his eyes. Margaery put her arms around him. "You don't
have to apologize. It was just a dream." Was it? Was it just a dream? Robb
swallowed, trying to process what he'd seen. "Sansa," he whispered, "I think
Arya was at the Twins." Sansa's face turned from one of shock to one of horror.
"You mean she..." Robb shook his head. "I saw her get dragged away by someone.
I don't know who but it wasn't a Frey or a Bolton." Margaery frowned. "What do
you mean you saw her? You were inside the keep, not outside." Robb tried to
swallow but his throat felt like rough stone. "I dreamt... That I was Grey
Wind. That I was the one with my head cut off and stuck on that pole." He took
the skin of water Margaery held out to him. "And Grey Wind saw Arya before he
died?" All he could do was nod. She was so close. Robb shook his head firmly.
"There's nothing we can do now. Arya's smart enough to survive on her own, if
she is alive." He went to stand at the stern of the boat. "We should be close
to Saltpans. We can stop there for a little while." He picked up Crimson Snow
and looked at the pommel. "I have an errand to run."
"I should be back by nightfall. If anything happens, take the boat further
upstream. I'll catch up with you at the Crossroads." Maragery nodded and kissed
him. "Don't do anything stupid." She whispered in his ear. Robb grinned, "When
have I ever been stupid?" His smile broadened when he saw Sansa rolling her
eyes over Margaery's shoulder. Robb put his gauntlets on and took the sword,
wrapping it a cloth. He stepped off the boat and walked into the village. Seven
hells! Half of the houses were burnt husks, blackened wood and rubble. The
townspeople seemed to actively avoid being anywhere near them. "What happened
here?" Robb asked one of the smallfolk. "Bandits, ser. Been pillaging and
raping ever since Lord Bolton left Harrenhal. The Bloody Mummers, we call 'em.
Can't say it to their faces but they've earned the name, no doubt about that."
Robb frowned. "Did they have a leader?" The man nodded. "The Hound. Led them
with that great dog helmet of his. Raped a twelve year old girl. By the time
they were done with her the only kind thing we could do was end her pain there
and then. And now the Brotherhood without Banners is riding around hanging
Lannisters and Freys by the dozen. Story goes that Beric Dondarrion is dead. I
mean, actually dead, no coming back. The Brotherhood now serves some madwoman
called Lady Stoneheart. If the rumours are true, they found her in a river a
few days after the Red Wedding. Dondarrion gave up his last life to bring her
back." Beric Dondarrion? Father sent him to kill the Mountain just before the
war--
"So, what side were you on? Which house do you serve? Young strapping lad such
as yourself must have been somewhere." Robb snapped out of his thoughts. "Hm?
Oh, I'm a hedge knight. Didn't get involved. Don't care for the Lannisters
after what happened to Ned Stark, Stannis is a righteous prick with too high an
opinion of himself, Renly was practically a girl, Balon Greyjoy is as stupid as
he is mad and Robb Stark... Don't get me started on him." The man shrugged.
"Don't matter to me either. So long as I've a roof over my head and food in my
belly, I'm happy. A girl to share the bed would be nice but I shouldn't be
greedy, eh? Name's Cotter. Tell you what, why not have a drink with me at the
inn. Some of the best ale I've ever tasted. Though that might not be high
praise considering I've been here all my life! Ha! What do you say, ser...?" He
held out a hand. Robb smiled and shook it. "Mikken. Thank you for the offer,
Cotter, but I'm just here to get my sword seen to and then I'm heading up the
Trident, I heard there's fighting going on the North. I thought I'd earn a bit
of gold, maybe some lands, who knows?" Cotter nodded and smacked Robb on the
back. "I suppose you'll want the blacksmith then. The forge is that way.
Smith's a good lad, very skilled, gives reasonable prices, doesn't ask
questions. Keeps himself to himself." Suits me just fine, then. Robb nodded,
"Alright, Cotter. Thanks for the help. If I ever come back here, I'll take you
up on your offer." Cotter shook his head. "Not at all. Good luck on your
travels and the wars to come, Ser Mikken. Though if I might offer some advice,
if you get to the Twins and they start playing the Rains of Castamere, run like
hells!" Cotter walked off, laughing at his own jest.
Robb knocked on the door to the forge. When nobody answered, he wrenched it
open and stepped inside. "Hello?" The fires were still roaring and the anvil
was wet. "I don't want any trouble." A man was standing in the corner, sword at
the ready. Robb held his hands up. "I'm not here for trouble, I'm a customer."
He unwrapped Crimson Snow. "I need a new pommel, hilt, crossguard, the works."
The blacksmith stepped out of the shadows and examined the sword. "The
construction's fine, looks expensive. I can't see why you'd need it changed."
Have I met him before? There was something familiar about him that Robb
couldn't put his finger on it. "Call it a design choice. What's your name?" The
smith raised an eyebrow. "My name's Gendry." He drew the sword halfway and
stared at the blade. "Valyrian Steel." He murmured and put it down. "You have
coin?" Robb shook his head. "No, you can keep what you take off. It's all gold
and rubies. More valuable than whatever I can pay you multiplied by ten."
Gendry nodded. "It'll take a while to get this stuff off. I've got some scraps
out back if you want to find a replacement. I assume you don't have much time?"
He's smart, I'll give him that. "I'd like to be out of here by nightfall so,
yes. I don't." Robb found a box full of bits of old weapons and armor. He
rummaged around and found a crossguard and a hilt that looked like they'd fit.
At the bottom of the pile, there was a pommel engraved with the direwolf of
House Stark. It might not be Ice, but it is a Stark sword. He turned around to
see Gendry frowning at him. "What is it?" Gendry opened his mouth and closed it
again, seemingly hesitant. "Do I know you?" He finally asked. Robb frowned as
well, "Funny, I was just thinking about that myself." Gendry scratched his
chin. "It's just, you remind me of someone I met in King's Landing." Robb did a
double take. "You were in King's Landing? When?" Gendry nodded, "I grew up
there, I was a 'pprentice smith. It's just that... Something else was going on.
The King's Hand, the old one that died. He came to see me, asked me about how I
was, was I treated well. Then Ned Stark came along, looks at me like I'm a
ghost. A while later, he's dead too. The gold cloaks come after me and I join a
party headed for the Night's Watch. They kill everyone except me, Hot Pie and
this one girl pretending she's a boy. She tells me that she's Ned Stark's
daughter and that she's trying to find her brother. The Lannisters catch us and
take us to Harrenhal. This girl, Arya, she gets us out and we find the
Brotherhood without Banners. I join them, and she leaves. I haven't heard from
her since." Robb put his head in his hands. Oh, Arya. "You're Robb Stark,
aren't you? You're the one Arya was looking for." Robb looked at him through
his fingers. "I've seen a dead man come back from the grave, seeing you alive
isn't the strangest thing that's ever happened to me." He stood up. "I'll do
your father's sword, but I won't take the gold. I owe your sister, and if I
ever see her again, I'll tell her how much of an idiot I was for leaving her."
Robb shook his head. "I have a better idea."
"Gendry, this is magnificent." Robb checked the balance of Crimson Snow, taking
a practice swing. The new hilt reminded Robb of Ice. It was plain, undecorated
apart from the engraved direwolf on the pommel, yet it felt like something a
Stark would wield. Gendry shook his head. "It was nothing. I'll get my stuff."
He picked up a small bag and the biggest hammer Robb had ever seen. How in
seven hells can he lift that? Gendry was muscular but had a wiriness to him
that reminded Robb of Jon Snow. "It's not much. Just my tools and my helmet."
Gendry explained as they set off. "Helmet?" Gendry smiled and pulled it out of
his sack. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the steel shaped into the form of a
bull's head. "They used to call me the Bull when we were on the Kingsroad. I
lost the original at Harrenhal. Your father offered to buy it when he visited
me on the Street of Steel. I told him it wasn't for sale. Got a good bollocking
from my master for it, though." Robb chuckled. "I can see why he'd want it
sold. You'd make a fair amount with this kind of craftsmanship." He passed it
back and they approached the boat. Sansa climbed out to greet them. "Gendry,
this is my oldest sister, Sansa. Sansa, this is Gendry. He was with Arya when
she escaped King's Landing." Sansa nodded, staring at Gendry with the same
expression that Robb had. "Where's Margaery?" Robb looked around. "Oh,
she's...um... She's powdering her nose?" Robb frowned, turning to Gendry, who
raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "What kind of powder would she be using, I
don't..." Gendry snickered. Sansa huffed, "Don't put the words in my mouth,
Robb! She's taking a piss! Seven Hells!" Gendry and Robb stared at her for a
second before almost collapsing with laughter. Sansa looked at them with a look
of utter bewilderment. "What? Oh, wait..." She stood there fuming for a second
and stuck her tongue out at them. It only made them laugh harder. Gendry was on
his knees, clutching his stomach, while Robb lay on his back and wiped his
eyes. "I never realised how much I missed being able to tease someone." Robb
grinned and mussed her hair. Sansa was just about to retort when a scream made
them all turn.
Margaery stood there with her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with a mix
of shock and horror. "Renly?!" The realisation hit Robb like a slap in the
face. He looks like Robert Baratheon. Sansa had clearly come to the same
conclusion and turned to Gendry. "What did your mother look like?" Gendry
stared for a moment as though he had been struck dumb. "I don't remember much
of her, she died when I was small. I think she was blonde, blue eyes. I don't
know. Why?" Robb turned to Sansa. "Stannis Baratheon sent out ravens to every
castle in the Seven Kingdoms, including Riverrun and Winterfell, claiming that
Robert's children weren't his but the Kingslayer's. He said the proof lay in
the fact that Robert's bastards had the Baratheon look. Joffrey and his
siblings all have the Lannister look. Blonde hair, green eyes. That's why my
father and Jon Arryn took an interest in you." Margaery stepped forward. "You
look just like Renly Baratheon did. You are King Robert's bastard son." Gendry
shook his head. "I'm not a king's son. I'm just a bull-headed smith. I'm no
lord, just an ordinary peasant making my way in the world. Fine, say I'm that
fat drunk's bastard. There's probably more like me who are treated like
nothing. I don't get special treatment from you, understood?" Robb exchanged
glances with Sansa, who nodded. "Margaery?" Margaery looked at Gendry for a few
seconds and nodded. Robb turned back to Gendry. "Understood."
***** Chapter 20 *****
The Black Cells
 
The door to Tyrion's cell clicked open. He looked up from where he'd been
lying. "Where the fuck have you been?!" Bronn smiled insolently. "That any way
to talk to an anointed knight, dwarf?" Tyrion snorted. "Anionted in whores, by
any chance?" Bronn's clothes were much finer than any knight could afford,
unless... "I'm a married man now, got lands and a keep to shelter me and mine.
The anointing was a private ceremony, in a brothel if you must know." My, my,
Cersei does move quickly. "So, which castle did my sister give you? If you say
Harrenhal, I will mock you to the ends of the earth." Bronn had the nerve to
look hurt at that. "Alright, dwarf, she didn't exactly give me the castle, she
gave me a marriage that will give me a castle." Interesting. How much was
Cersei willing to pay? Tyrion sat up and gestured to a bench opposite him. "So,
who is the lucky bride?" Bronn sat and smirked. "Lollys Stokeworth."
Tyrion almost fell off the bunk in shock. "Cersei gave you Lollys Stokeworth in
exchange for abandoning me? You are terrible at driving bargains, my friend."
Bronn's smile disappeared. "It wasn't a bargain, you selfish prick. It was
lands, a title and Lollys Stokeworth or my head on the spike next to yours.
Sure, she's fat and has the brains of a cow that's been hit over the head with
a shovel. Once I've got a son by her, I'll lock her away and whore myself to an
early grave. They'll call me Robert the Second of Stokeworth. You want me to
fight for you again, you think after everything, I'm going to risk my life for
you again. Lysa Arryn was a witless sow, Ser Who-gives-two-shits was greener
than I was when I was five. This is different. Your sister knows you'll demand
a trial by combat so she's brought the fucking Mountain and let me tell you,
dwarf, I am not fighting the fucking Mountain." Ah, the loyalty of a
sellsword.Tyrion nodded. "I understand. You're a scoundrel, a sellsword, a man
of little honor. You are also my friend, regardless of how much I paid you." He
held out his hand. "Farewell, my friend. It's been interesting." Bronn's
customary smirk returned to his face as he took Tyrion's hand. "And very
rewarding for me. So long, dwarf."
The Red Keep
Ser Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna
Lannister. Squired for Barristan Selmy against the Kingswood Outlaws. Knighted
and named to the Kingsguard in his sixteenth year for valor in the field. At
the Sack of King's Landing murdered his king, Aerys the second, at the foot of
the Iron Throne. Pardoned by King Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the
Kingslayer.
Jaime closed the White Book and sat in the chair that should never have been
his. What would Gerold Hightower think if he could see us now? What would he
feel? Anger? Shame? Pity? What of Arthur Dayne, Duncan the Tall or Oswell
Whent? They would spit on me, but I'm the best we have. At least I was. A
coward, a childbeater, a hedge knight, a boy so green he might as well piss
grass and a one-handed Kingslayer. Only Balon Swann, Preston Greenfield and
Arys Oakheart could be considered tr--
He was brought of his thoughts by a loud knock on the door to his chamber.
"Enter!" Ser Loras Tyrell strode in. "Ser Loras, I believe you are supposed to
be guarding the king." The Knight of Flowers had that defiant look in his eyes.
I've seen that look a thousand times. The look of an arrogant boy too brave for
his own good. "My brothers by either blood and oath remain by the king's side,
Ser. He is more than safe." I imagine they said the same about Joffrey or even
the Young Wolf, look where they are. Jaime nodded slowly. "So why are you in my
chambers as opposed to your own, since your duties are apparently so
frivolous." Ser Loras drew himself to his full height. "You speak of me
shirking my duties when you seem to have forgotten them yourself, Ser. The
Kingsguard are honour bound to protect not only the king but the king's family,
yet no attempt to find my sister, the queen, has been made. I demand tha--
" Jaime rose and grabbed the knight by the throat.
"You demand nothing of me, boy. I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, what
are you? The thirdborn son of an oaf whose only deign to power is a line of
upjumped stewards. Your sister is not the queen any more than you are Renly
Baratheon's wife. If she wanted the crown so much, she should not have fled the
scene of the king's death. Had she remained, another alliance would have been
possible. The marriage to Joffrey was not consummated, therefore she is not his
widow. Besides, Margaery is likely dead and neither my father nor I am willing
to dispatch any men while my brother awaits his trial." He released his grip
and Ser Loras fell to the ground, gasping. "You are dismissed for today." Loras
sent one last venomous look at him. "My grandmother also wishes to speak to
you." Ah, well. I suppose I can hardly make her come here.
Jaime entered Olenna Tyrell's chambers. The Queen of Thorns sat in a chair,
picking figs from a fruit bowl. "I apologise for whatever my grandson said to
you, he is much like his father. Quick to anger at any percieved slight. You
do, however, understand our concern given the lack of effort being put into
finding Margaery." Jaime nodded and sat down. "Of course, I understand your
concern, Lady Olenna. The fact of the matter is that the king's safety takes
precendence in these times." Lady Olenna snorted, "Yes, I imagine you are quite
familiar with these times, Ser. What with your track record. Only Barristan the
Bold has known more and he's not around anymore. I suppose the rest of us must
make do. Yet, surely a group of, say, fifty trusted soldiers to comb the
Riverlands would not a catastrophically affect the city's security? My
granddaughter is the Rose of Highgarden and is dear to me in ways you might not
understand. I do not wish harm on her." Jaime leaned forward. "I may not
understand a mother's love as much as my sister, but I know you love your
family just as I love mine. Even my brother..." He stood. "Margaery's
disappearance perfectly coincided with Joffrey's death. There may be a link
between them." With that, he took his leave.
The Black Cells
"Podrick, for the last time, the only one who could speak for me is Sansa and
we have no idea where she is!" Tyrion lay on the bunk. "Get out of King's
Landing, Pod. If I'm to die, I won't let your blood stain my hands. This is
farewell." The boy turned to leave. "Pod." He stopped. "There has never been a
more loyal squire." Podrick smiled and nodded, leaving Tyrion in his cell. I
suppose I ought to come up with some last words. "Bugger you all" doesn't quite
scream legendary." The door to his cell opened again and Olenna Tyrell entered.
"Lady Olenna." Tyrion greeted. "Last I heard, you were confined to your
chambers." Lady Olenna glared at him. "Do you have my granddaughter?" This just
got interesting. Tyrion kept his face blank. "I don't know. I do have friends
who used to roam the kingswood, perhaps my father missed a few raiders. Now, of
course they'll never think to return her for ransom. They'll pick her of what
she's worth and leave her. But they might listen to me but I can't speak to
them from here. If that is not the case, I cannot help you." It isn't blackmail
if it isn't a threat.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
King's Landing
 
I can't say it's ever made a difference to me but, in the end, I never thought
I'd die like this. How far is it possible for a man to fall? Tyrion sat in
silence as Meryn Trant told the court how he had threatened his illbred shit of
a nephew, how he had threatened to have him killed for speaking in his king's
defence. Craven, childbeating waste of blood and organs. How Cersei convinced
Robert to name him to the Kingsguard was beyond Tyrion. Probably sucking his
cock with her eyes tight shut and imagining Jaime pumping into her instead.
"And what of Sansa Stark? Perhaps you'll tell how Joffrey laughed as you tore
her clothes and beat her?!" He snapped. "Silence!" Father barely had to raise
his voice as Tyrion sat back with a venomous look at the judges.
Pycelle shuffled onto the stand, proclaiming that Tyrion had pilfered all
manner of poison whilst imprisoning the lecherous old goat for naught but loyal
service. I suppose he isn't strictly speaking lying. His potions were very
effective in disabling Cersei for a few days. The most peaceful few days of my
brief Handship. Then he went on to present Sansa's hairnet, confirming Tyrion's
original theory, while spouting some of the most outrageous nonsense Tyrion had
ever heard. Why in seven hells would Sansa Stark conspire with me of all
people? Noble? Good earth? Pycelle is losing his wits if he thinks anyone will
believe that.
"Your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you will know the debt is
paid." Tyrion's gaze shifted to Mace Tyrell and his mother in the gallery as
Cersei sang his sins for him. Olenna was practically clawing at the armrest on
her chair, her piercing stare on Cersei. Mace was sweating badly, fidgeting
every so often as the evidence stacked up against the monster holding his
beloved daughter. Or so they think. In the end, that's all it takes. Such an
odd bunch, the Tyrells. They worry so much about their daughter when she isn't
around to whore her way into the next king's bed, then they marry her off to
Joffrey after everything he's done. The irony would be delicious if it wasn't
so sickening. It didn't matter. Margaery was likely in a ditch with a red smile
and all the innocence raped out of her by bandits looking for a new plaything.
If Tyrion was to die, he would bloody well take his father's schemes with him.
This would turn the Tyrells against House Lannister whether or not Tyrion died.
If Tyrell speakes in my defence, he will earn naught but hatred from Father and
Cersei. If I am executed, Tyrell will be wroth with Father for potentially
endangering Margaery. If, by some miracle, I make it out alive, Tyrell will
question us. Father would never countenance that.
It really shouldn't have hurt Tyrion. I knew better than to trust Varys. Still,
the cockless wonder was the closest thing he'd had to a friend in King's
Landing. To see him glide onto the witness stand to report on Tyrion's actions
for the world to hear stung. He lifted his head as Father asked from the Iron
Throne, "And he said this at a meeting of the Small Council?" You know bloody
well what I said. You were there, you self-absorbed prick. "Father, might I ask
the witness a question?" Tywin regarded him for a moment. "One." Tyrion nodded,
turning back to Varys. "Lord Varys, you came to me in the days after the Battle
of Blackwater Bay. You told me that the books would not write of me, nor any
songs nor any poems, but you would not forget. Have you forgotten, my Lord of
Whisperers?" Varys smiled. "Sadly, my lord, I do not forget."
Surely, there is nobody else. I can't be that unpopular, can I? And I still
haven't thought of a rousing speech. I suppose I'll stick with 'Bugger each and
every one of you, I will neither miss nor remember you. Oh, and don't worry
about Joffrey, sweet sister, I'll give him a kiss from his mother before I kick
him into the hottest fire in the seven hells." He almost grinned at the
thought. Tyrion looked up to see Jaime approach as the courtiers filed back
into the throne room. "I spoke to father. He wants you to plead for mercy once
the trial's done. He'll spare your life and send you to the Night's Watch." Oh,
joy. Life on the Wall, with all those silly little vows and freezing your cock
off. I wonder how Jon Snow will react when he finds out I wed his sister. Tyion
snorted. "Ned Stark was given a similar choice and look where that got him,
where it got the Starks. We both know I'm a dead man." Jaime grasped his
shoulder. "Not this time. Father gave me his word. He'll spare your life and--"
"You'll forsake your vows and become Lord of Casterly Rock in his place. I can
practically see the strings. This is what he wanted. This is why I wasn't
killed before I reached the Black Cells, he knew you would do this." Jaime
shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just stick to the plan, for me if not for
yourself." Alright, father. I'll dance to your tune, for my brother. Tyrion
nodded, fully intent on keeping that vow. What came next turned his mind blank.
Shae. He felt his heart begin to crack and shatter, felt reason slowly slip
away as the woman he loved slandered him in front of the baying, bloodthristy
crowd. He glanced at Cersei and saw her self-satisfied smirk. It tipped him
over the edge. "Father, I wish to confess." His rage boiled over, tears
threatening to burst out of his eyes. "You wish to confess?" Father leaned
forward on the Iron Throne.
Tyrion turned to the so-called nobles of Westeros. "I saved you, I saved this
city. All of you worthless ingrates. I should have let Stannis kill you all.
Hells, I should have sided with Robb Stark!" Cries of "Traitor" and
"Kingslayer" filled the room and Tywin stood. "Do you wish to confess?"
Tyrion's face twisted into a hideous smile. "Yes, Father. I'm guilty, guilty.
Is that what you want me to say?" Tywin's frown became more pronounced. "You
admit that you poisoned the king?" Tyrion almost cackled. "No, I am innocent of
that at least. My crime is more monstrous. I confess that I am a dwarf!" Tywin
scoffed. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf." Tyrion shook his head. "Of
course I am. I've been on trial my entire life and you were always the
prosecutor. As for Joffrey, I say only this. I did not kill Joffrey but I wish
that I had. Watching your viscious bastard die gave me more relief than a
thousand lying whores! I wish I had my hands on Margaery Tyrell so that I could
dangle her on a string in front of you and watch you squabble over her. I wish
I was the monster you think I am, I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack
of you! I would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it." The crowd
roared and hissed, Ser Meryn stepped forward to drag him to his cell. "I will
not die for the witless sod, yet I will get no justice here. I will let the
gods choose, I demand Trial by Combat." Tywin clenched his fist and grit his
teeth. "Do you have a champion?" To the shock of everyone in the room, Oberyn
Martell stood from his seat. "He does, Lord Tywin." He drawled. "The dwarf has
convinced me."
Chapter End Notes
     This is the last of the Tyrion POV's for a very long time. If you've
     watched the show you know what happens. If you haven't, why are you
     here? The rest of his story will be told through the other POV's.
     This was literally one massive load of filler.
***** Chapter 22 *****
The Riverlands
 
"Seven hells!" Robb stumbled and nearly fell off the boat as it hit yet another
large rock. How some people spend their entire lives on these thing is beyond
me. "Do I--" Gendry froze. "Look out!" He roared. An arrow punctured the sail
and thudded into the wood right next to Sansa's leg. Gendry scrambled toward
her and pulled the arrow free, examining the arrowhead while Robb wrapped his
arms around Margaery to shield her. "I made this." Gendry muttered and stood
tall, holding his hands up. "Anguy!" He called. "Lem?" Robb looked over his
shoulder. "Bandits?" Gendry shook his head. "The Brotherhood."
As if on cue, two men stepped out of the trees. One was holding a bow and was
nocking another arrow. The other wore a dirty yellow cloak, a smile on his
face. "Gendry, it's been a while. Though last I saw you was at the crossroads.
Left your post, have you?" Gendry gritted his teeth. "I have debts to repay."
Lem Lemoncloak shrugged, "What about the vow you swore to us? Anyway, get
yourselves to shore." Anguy aimed at Sansa. "I won't miss twice. You have my
word, the pretty ones won't be harmed. We'll just see what you have in that
boat and leave you on your way." Gendry glanced at Robb, who nodded slowly.
Robb picked up his sword and pushed the boat to the bank. As Lem reached out,
he pulled back. "The sword stays with me. The rest is yours." The two stared
each other down for a second. Lem shrugged. "Alright, let's see." He stepped
onto the boat and rummaged through the contents while Robb and the others
waited.
Robb tried to shut himself out, reaching toward Nymeria. Wherever she was.
"Hello! What's all this?" Robb snapped back to reality and turned back to the
boat. "What?" Lem held up the Lannister breastplate. "Where's this from, eh?"
He held up a few more pieces of armor. "I stole it." Robb replied. Anguy
snorted. "You think we haven't heard that before?" Robb shook his head. "I'm a
northerner. Why would I fight for the Lannisters?" Lem shrugged. "Didn't stop
Roose Bolton killing Robb Stark now, did it?" He turned to Anguy. "You know
what? I say we take 'em to the Lady."
***** Chapter 23 *****
The Riverlands
Robb's hand immediately jerked toward his sword but, breathing deeply, steadied
himself before he could get Margaery killed. "I agree. Alright, follow me. And
no funny business, any of you step out of line and you'll be stuck full of
arrows before you can say 'Castamere.'" Lem beckoned as though speakng to a
dog. Robb ground his teeth and felt Margaery brush the back of his hand with
her fingertips, calming him a little. Nymeria. He thought, trying to establish
some kind of link as they scaled the hill and climbed over some roots sticking
out from the ground.
"Thoros! Got some folk who need to chat with the lady." The Red Priest
approached and inspected the new arrivals. "Well, well, if it ain't Ser Gendry.
Who are your friends?" Gendry set his jaw firmly. Thoros shrugged, "Anguy?" The
archer looked up from where he was perched. "Found them in the river, they say
they're from King's Landing. Had some Lannister armour on 'em."
Thoros looked at Robb, who had his head down, trying to find Nymeria. "Alright,
tie them up and let them sweat. She's not ready yet." At this, Robb sprang. He
managed to draw his sword and was actually in range of Thoros when a mailed
fist crashed into his cheek. Margaery shrieked as he fell, blood dripping down
his face. Two members of the brotherhood stepped forward and grabbed him,
twisting his arms behind him. "Stop it!" Sansa cried. "I saw you in the
capital! You were dispatched by my father to kill Gregor Clegane! Where's Beric
Dondarrion? He had the command!" Lem spat on the ground. "Dondarrion's dead. He
gave up his last spark to bring the lady back." Who's the lady? Robb could
barely think through the ringing in his ears.
Thoros seemed to realise something. "What do you mean your father?" He frowned.
"Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, tasked you with
bringing the king's justice to Ser Gregor Clegane. I am his daughter, Lady
Sansa Stark of Winterfell, princess of the North." The men of the Brotherhood
immediately paled. Thoros exchanged a look with Lem. "Get the lady, tell her
it's urgent."
Robb raised his head to look up at Margaery, wishing he could call out and tell
her it would be okay. She met his gaze and he knew she was thinking the same
thing. "So who are these two, then?" Thoros asked Sansa. "Margaery Tyrell."
Margaery snapped. "And this is--" At that moment, Anguy reemerged, flanking a
small figure dressed in a cloak that completely obscured her face. The skin of
her hands, however, were a sickly white-green like old milk. She moved slowly,
staring at Gendry before moving to Sansa.
Sansa tried to look defiant until she looked upon her face. Her lower lip began
to shake uncontrollably and tears spilled from her eyes. She tried to speak, to
form a single word, but only managed an agonised wail that one might attribute
to a dying animal. She collapsed into herself, shaking with sobs.
Margaery swallowed and looked up, her expression turning from recognition to
sheer horror. "No, it can't be..." Robb tried to break free and grab something.
"Margaery, look at me. Look at me." Margaery obeyed, staring at him
desperately. "Robb-" The lady brought her hand up to her throat and pointed at
her with the other before rasping. "Whore." "-it's your mother." The lady
turned her head toward him and stared at him with her cold, hateful, dead,
Tully blue eyes. "Mother?" Robb choked.
Lady Catelyn turned back to Lem and Anguy. "The traitor and the whore," her
voice grated each syllable like a cat hissing. "Hang them."
***** Chapter 24 *****
The Riverlands
Blood roared in Robb's ears as he struggled desperately. His vision flickered,
the image of Margaery tearing herself away from Anguy was replaced by the
feeling of wind in his hair, the silence of the forest separating from Sansa's
screams. Nymeria! Blood dripped from his nose, some running down into his
mouth. The taste of iron momentarily became addictive, the sweetest thing he
had ever tasted. He opened his mouth to gulp it up and felt his teeth pierce
flesh, savouring every bite. Reality flashed again, Robb glimpsed Gendry's legs
kicking in the air. A voice called out to him. I am here.
Robb leapt forward, snatching his sword up and spun so quickly the two men who
were supposed to be holding him didn't even move before the Valyrian steel
opened their throats. The air was engulfed in howls and Nymeria bounded into
the fray. Her pack followed and men died screaming as they were torn apart.
Robb rushed forward, punching one man out of his way, to reach the tree where
Margaery and Gendry were hanging. He slashed the rope but before he could watch
them fall, steel flashed towards him and he parried the blow, knocking his
adversary off balance. In one stroke, he smacked the other man's sword away and
stabbed him in the chest. A loud yelp made him turn to see Thoros of Myr ignite
his blade. The wolves circled around him. Robb approached the circle.
Mine. Nymeria looked at him and blinked. With a movement resembling a shrug,
she moved out of the way. "The Lord of Light smiles on you, Robb Stark. I
wonder who brought you back." Thoros twirled his flaming sword. "Only one of us
can walk away, I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, for the night is
dark and full of terrors." Robb merely nodded and struck, only for the Red
Priest to turn and sidestep his blade. Robb immediately drew back as the flames
flew toward him. He checked one swing and knocked down another, responding with
a savage swipe at his opponents knee, overextending himself. He realised his
mistake and the flames licked at his face as he jumped backwards. It stung
badly but only made him angrier. Every second he fought, every second Margaery
could be dead.
Thoros approached leisurely, his stance open, inviting. He opened his mouth
again, but stopped and looked down. A dagger stuck out of his side and he fell
to his knees. Robb rose and kicked him in the face, he glanced at Sansa, who
was staring at her bloodsoaked hands in shock. "Nobody brought me back, priest.
I lived by my own power, I survived by my own will, my own design. Your God has
no say in my life, no matter how he may try. You made your bed, now lie in it."
And with one swift stroke, beheaded the Drunken Priest.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: rape in the second paragraph. This chapter isn't strictly
     important to the story but I felt like this was an interesting idea.
     Like I said, fair warning, there is a non-con scene. You have been
     warned.
Margaery lay in bed, waiting for her husband. She looked down and realised that
she was wearing the dress she wore on her first wedding day. Green and gold
with a dipping neckline and multiple layers of fine skirts. Finally, her
husband walked in and lay on the bed beside her. She propped herself up on her
elbows and her hands went to the laces of his breeches. He slapped her hands
away sharply. "Go to sleep, my lady." He instructed and turned over. Margaery
just stared at his back and noticed the shadows in the room growing sharper and
suddenly her husband was engulfed by blackness and disappeared, leaving only a
small bloodstain.
She blinked and found herself in a different bed, it was bigger and grander.
She looked down and saw the same dress she wore on her second wedding day.
Cream and pale sky blue, corset hugging her figure tightly. She closed her eyes
and stifled a gasp as she felt hands on her. They tore away her dress and
stripped her bare. Her husband grabbed her hips tightly, leaving bruises and
chafing wherever he touched her. He held her down. "Ow." She gasped as he
pushed into her roughly, without any preparation, as he took her like a whore.
"Ow, ow, ow." No, no, no, this was what I knew it would be like. Why am I so
shocked? A tear ran down her cheek, "Please, just--" She yelped as he slapped
her arse hard. "Shut up, bitch." He commanded gruffly and pushed her face into
a pillow to stifle her sobs. "Quiet, bitch, or I'll give you something to
scream about. I hear your brother likes to be fucked in the arse, let's see if
it runs in the family." Then he started choking.
She lay in a simple, wooden bed in an inn. Instead of a dress, she wore a white
tunic and brown breeches. She turned and snuggled into her husband. She inhaled
his scent, not perfumed or enhanced, just him in his natural state. Her head
rested against his chest, feeling his strong pulse, his arms wrapped tenderly
and protectively around her. She looked up at his face and woke him up with a
kiss. His blue eyes filled with affection as he focused on her, while his
bearded chin scratched at hers as he muzzled her neck. When they joined, and
they did so often, it was slow and sweet and caring, not just fucking, but
loving each other. When she fell asleep again, her heart was filled with
happiness.
***** Chapter 26 *****
The Riverlands
Margaery groaned and stirred in the unfamiliar bed. Her head was throbbing and
her back felt like she'd fallen down some stone stairs backwards. Ignoring the
pain, she opened her eyes. Her vision took a moment to focus and she noticed a
small pitcher on the table next to the bed. She managed to prop herself up on
her elbows and her hands trembled as she reached for the jug. Before she could
grab it, someone gently lifted her up, settled her against the bedrest and
lifted the pitcher to her lips. Margaery hadn't noticed how dry her throat felt
until she had drained the entire jug in one go. "Thirsty, hm?" Margaery blinked
and her eyes focussed on two blue eyes and a wide smile. "Hello." She returned
the smile. "Hello." Robb intertwined their fingers. "How do you feel?" Like
I've been run over by a corpse cart. "My back hurts a little." She confessed.
Robb nodded. "You fell a long way, I was worried that you'd..." He hesitated.
"Break my back?" She didn't need to hear his answer. "I can feel my toes, I'm
fine." She looked around. "Where are we?"
As if on cue, the door to the room opened and a portly woman walked in with a
tray. "Here you are, ser Mikken. I got some food and some of my old nan's
ointment for your face." Robb stood and took the tray from her. "Thank you, I
wish I could pay you properly but--" The woman waved her hand. "No, I refuse to
hear that. You've already given us a horse and you helped fix our roof, you've
done more for us in the past day than anybody else for a year." She turned to
Margaery. "You, my dear, are very lucky to have such a gentleman for your
husband, and handsome too! If only my Nyle was like him!" Margaery raised an
eyebrow at a very sheepish Robb as the woman left the room. "Husband?" Robb
blushed so hard he looked like he might faint. "Brenda has an active
imagination by the looks of things." He swallowed, sitting back down on the
bed. "But... I was thinking on the way here, about us. You've come all this way
with me and... Look, when we reach Greywater Watch, would you want to...?"
Margaery's jaw fell. "Are you asking me to marry you?"
Robb nodded shyly. "It's alright if you don't want to, given your past
experience." She smiled and laughed at that. Robb raised an eyebrow at her.
"Sorry, it's just that I've been married twice but this is the first time I've
actually been asked what I want. You have to appreciate the irony." Robb
grinned. "I guess that is quite funny." He took her hands. "If you think it's
too soon or anything like that, I'll wait for you." Margaery brought his hand
to her lips. "You are the sweetest man I've ever met, Robb Stark. Of course
I'll marry you, you honourable, selfless fool." Her fingertips touched his jaw
as they leaned in together. "I don't deserve you." She heard him whisper
quietly against her lips.
Robb tensed slightly as her nose pressed against the skin beside his nose.
Margaery pulled back and examined him. "You're burnt." Robb waved a hand. "It's
not important." She held a hand out for the bowl. "I'm your wife now, Robb
Stark. I make that call. Besides, I'd rather you didn't have a big scar on your
face." Robb passed the bowl reluctantly. "I thought girls liked scars." He
mused. Margaery shrugged. "I appreciate scars as much as the next girl, just
not when my husband is as handsome as you." Robb blushed and she giggled. His
hand tightened slightly around her knee as she dabbed the paste on his face.
"Oh, don't be such a baby." Margaery chided. Robb pouted in protest. "It
stings, Margaery." She kissed him, careful to lean the other way so as to not
poke her nose into the paste. "Better?" She asked with eyebrows raised.
"Passable." Margaery nodded and wrapped a small bandage over the area. Her face
scrunched in pain and discomfort as she shifted her body on the pillows.
"Let me see your back." Robb insisted. Margaery sighed and, with some
difficulty, rolled over so that her back faced him and he moved her shift up to
her shoulder blades. She sighed contently as his warm hand ran up and down her
spine. "There's no swelling to speak of, just a bit of bruising. Nothing
serious, as far as I can tell." His fingers slid lower, over the small dimples
below the small of her back. "Getting a little touchy, Stark?" Margaery teased.
She pressed her hand to his stomach and felt the muscles there. Robb smiled.
"Do you need anything?" Margaery rolled back over and looked at him through her
eyelashes. "Just you." He grunted and climbed into the bed with her, pressing a
kiss to her lips. "I'm here."
Margaery rested her head on his shoulder. "Are Sansa and Gendry alright?" Robb
cradled her head gently. "Yes, they're both fine. I think they're resting as
well." She nodded, holding onto him tightly. "What happened in the forest?"
Robb's chest tightened. "It doesn't matter." Margaery looked up at him. "It
does to me. I was hanged, Robb. I deserve to know what happened." Robb ground
the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You're right. Seven hells, you're
right." He kissed her forehead and took a deep breath. "It was the wolves. They
found us just in time. I was able to get away from the guards and cut the rope.
Even then, I wasn't sure you were alive." Tears pricked his eyes. "Thoros
attacked me, scratched my face with his flaming sword. I made a mistake and he
was about to finish me off but... Sansa stabbed him in the back."
"Sansa?!"Margaery mouthed in shock. Robb merely nodded gravely. "I executed
him." Margaery swallowed, processing the information. "And your mother?" Robb's
expression hardened. "She just stood there the whole time, watching me... I was
so angry, I swung at her, I was going to run her through and she called out to
me. She said 'My son.' And I stopped." A tear ran down his cheek. "I couldn't
let her live, no, not live... exist like that. But I wasn't strong enough to do
it. I told the wolves to tear her apart and Nymeria didn't join in, she just
stared at me the entire time. Telling me what I already knew. I'm weak, I'm a
coward. I don't deserve you or my family." He choked back a sob.
Margaery stared back up at him, realising that she was crying as well. "That is
not true, Robb." She whispered. "You are strong, the strongest man I know.
Strong and brave and honourable and I love you for all of those things and
more. You couldn't kill your own mother in cold blood, even after what she did.
That doesn't make you weak, that makes you kind. That's why people love you and
your father, it's why they followed you to war. Not just because you're a
Stark. Because of your honour." Robb's mouth twisted. "My 'honour' got me
killed." Not this again. Margaery sighed. "You made a mistake, just like me,
just like everyone else. We're all human, Robb." She groaned and lifted herself
off of the bed. "I need to see Sansa, with all due respect to you and Gendry,
I'm the best suited to making sure she's alright." Robb put his hands on her
shoulders. "You stay here, I'll go and get her." Margaery nodded. "Alright,
just think on what I said. You can't hold yourself responsible for everyone."
Robb nodded back and kissed her gently. "I love you." Margaery smiled. "I
know."
A few minutes later, Sansa stepped into the room. "Margaery? Robb said you
wanted to speak to me." Margaery smiled at her from the bed. "Yes, little bird.
I did. Come here." She patted the mattress next to her. Sansa made her way over
tentatively. "Are you alright? You look like you've been crying." Margaery
sighed. "Yes, I've been trying to convince Robb that he's only human. He blames
himself for everything, it's endearing and immensely frustrating in so many
ways." Sansa smiled thinly. "Tears are a woman's weapon." Not quite what
happened but a good point nonetheless. I'll have to remember that. Margaery
grinned. "Enough about me. How are you?" Sansa sat and looked out through the
window. "I don't know." Margaery took her hand. "Sansa, the only way I can help
you is if you talk to me." Sansa shrugged. "And what if I don't want your help?
You aren't my mother." Margaery's eyes narrowed. "No, but I will be your
sister." Sansa turned to her, eyes wide. "You mean...?" Margaey beamed. "Yes.
Robb asked me earlier. But I'd like to think we were sisters even before then.
You were my only true friend in King's Landing, until I met Robb, that is."
Sansa raised an eyebrow. "Your cousins, the ladies you kept company with?"
Margaery grimaced. "There's an 'I' in menagerie, Sansa." Sansa thought for a
moment, then nodded. "I understand." Margaery smiled and squeezed the other
girl's hand. "Good."
A knock on the door heralded Robb's return. He looked a little pale. "Robb,
what's wrong?" Robb shook his head. "Nothing, nothing's wrong. In fact, it's
good, I think." How drunk can you get in five minutes? "Robb, you aren't
talking sense." Sansa pointed out. Robb pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry,
I'm having trouble believing it, that's all." Margaery sat up. "Believing
what?" Robb chuckled. "A lot's happened whilst we were on the road. Tywin
Lannister is dead."
***** Chapter 27 *****
The Riverlands
Margaery jolted upright with a yelp. "How?!" Sansa demanded. Robb rubbed his
jaw, leaning back and resting his head against the wall. "There's a couple of
different rumours but the consensus is that... Tyrion Lannister killed him."
Sansa's jaw dropped. Margaery frowned. "It's no secret that they despised each
other but something must have pushed him over the edge." Robb nodded. "Tyrion
was implicated in Joffrey's death. They arrested him and he demanded trial by
combat." Margaery glanced up. "Who were the combatants? Tyrion wouldn't fight
by himself. Was it that sellsword?" Robb shook his head. "Not a sellsword,
Prince Oberyn Martell volunteered." Why in seven hells- "Who fought for the
crown?" Robb just smiled grimly. "The Mountain." That explains it. "But
Tommen's just a boy. He can't rule on his own." Sansa pointed out. Robb and
Margaery exchanged glances. "That's what worries me."
Robb pulled another chair up to the bed and sat down. "Because it means that
Cersei is in charge. Between that and Tyrion being on the run, not to mention
all of our other enemies... We need to be even more careful. It won't take long
to reach the Neck now that we have horses but the roads will be dangerous. I
suggest we leave tomorrow evening, ride as far as we can, rest for a few hours
and then complete the journey like that." He glanced down at Margaery. "If you
can, that is." Margaery cracked her shoulders indignantly. Robb smiled. "I
thought so."
The door opened and Gendry entered quietly. Robb looked up. "Anything else
going on?" Gendry shook his head. "That settles it. We stay here for another
day and leave at nightfall tomorrow. Get some rest."
Margaery lay in the darkness with the sheets covering her up to her chin. The
door clicked open and Robb entered quietly, not wanting to disturb her. "It's
alright, love. I'm still awake." She called out. Robb chuckled. "Good. That way
I won't wake you if I trip over something." He made his way over cautiously,
slipped his tunic off and slid under the covers with her. His hand made contact
with her bare stomach and he paused. Margaery giggled and buried her face in
his shoulder to stifle her laughter. Robb sighed. "Has anyone ever called you a
sadist?" He wondered out loud. Margaery's breath tickled his ear. "Oh, you
should know by now, I can never resist the opportunity to bring someone under
my control." As if to prove her point, she hovered over him and brushed her
chest against his. Robb smirked and slid a hand between her legs, pressing
against her ever so slightly and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. He
pulled her in close. "You aren't the only one who knows a thing or two about
control." He muttered in her ear. Margaery grinned and nestled into his chest.
"We fit together perfectly." She observed. Robb nodded. "We do."
They lay there for a few minutes. "What will we do after we reach Greywater
Watch?" Margaery asked. Robb shrugged. I don't know. I mean... Jon has to know
that I'm alive and before I met you, I was going to join the Watch. It seemed
like a good way to spend my life. Now, that's impossible. I suppose I could try
and disrupt the Boltons' hold on the North, maybe create enough room for
another revolt. I just don't see how that would be possible without putting
everyone in danger." He ran a hand through his hair. Margaery hesitated. "Maybe
we should leave Westeros behind. Go travel the world, see the Free Cities. We
could tell our loved ones that we are alive and that we're happy, and just live
our lives the way we want to."
Robb nodded. "Maybe we should."
***** Chapter 28 *****
The Neck
"H-how in s-seven h-hells do you p-people live here?!" Gendry wondered out
loud, teeth chattering. "By remembering that there's somewhere colder than
here. The worst is yet to come." Robb responded calmly. Margaery shivered,
partly from the sudden drop in temperature, partly from the thought. "The
Starks are always right. Winter is Coming." Robb pulled the horse to a halt and
dismounted. He walked foward a few metres and stopped before turning to Sansa.
"Welcome home." He smiled. Sansa climbed down and joined him. She bent down and
touched the ground. After a moment, she dissolved into tears. Margaery
dismounted and took Robb's hand. Robb smiled at her before sniffing and turning
his head sharply. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped as Nymeria plodded out of
the forest. She ignored Robb, instead approaching Sansa and poking her nose
into her arm. Sansa laughed tearfully and wrapped her arms around the direwolf.
"Now what?" Gendry called from atop his horse. "Now, we wait." Robb looked into
the distance, gazing at Moat Cailin on the horizon. It didn't take long.
A small, cloaked figure appeared from the shadows. Nymeria didn't growl or
bark, merely gazing apathetically at the stranger. "Your grace." The crannogman
bowed. Robb didn't respond straight away. He blinked and shook his head. "Lord
Howland sent you?" The crannogman nodded sombrely, "He told us to expect you
and your companions." He gestured in the direction that he had come from. "He
awaits you at Greywater Watch." Robb glanced down at Nymeria. "Your direwolf
cannot accompany us, it has a different path ahead. My compatriots will deal
with your horses." Robb and Margaery exchanged looks and she took his hand in
hers. They looked back at Sansa and Gendry, who both looked uneasy but curious
also. "Lead on." Robb requested.
The crannogman led them to a boat on the edge of the marsh. They pushed off
without a word, slipping through the swamps and around patches of vegetation,
the silence punctuated by the odd reptile. "How did they build a castle in all
of this?" Gendry frowned, looking around the marsh. "Not in it, on it." Robb
replied. "Greywater Watch is a giant float, that's why it's so difficult to
find. It changes location every few hours." He turned to the crannogman. "How
much time do we have?" The crannogman looked at the sky. "You need not worry."
Sure enough, Greywater Watch soon hove into view, a wooden colossus that seemed
almost too still on the waters of the Neck. "Incredible." Margaery whispered.
Robb smiled and rested his cheek on her head.
***** Chapter 29 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Greywater Watch
 
The large wooden doors were strangely quiet as they opened, gliding unnaturally
on their hinges. No doubt Father would have some salacious tale about
crannogmen to try and explain that. Margaery thought with a wry smile as the
group entered the main hall of the castle. She glanced at Robb. His shoulders
were completely relaxed, reassuring her. Sansa and Gendry, on the other hand,
looked tense. Margaery reached out and took the other girl's hand. Sansa smiled
gratefully at her and they came to a halt before the high table. A small man
stood at one of the windows. "How long has it been?" He asked quietly.
Robb sighed. "An eternity." Howland Reed smiled and shook Robb's hand. "Indeed,
my lord. Everything has changed." He turned to Margaery and Sansa. "My ladies
of Stark and Tyrell. In another time the world would have trembled at such an
alliance." His grey-green eyes fell on Gendry. "And the last surviving son of
Robert Baratheon. The world has much in store for all of you." Sansa licked her
lips. "Did you know that Robb was alive? Did you believe the Freys?" Howland's
smile did not falter. "It was not a surprise to hear that your brother was
alive. Sometimes real life seems more impossible than fiction, and the Starks
always endure. Never doubt the truth of your father's words, Lady Sansa. In
spite of the horrors each of you have faced, you are all Starks and you will
endure." Gendry grunted. "I am not a Stark, nor will I ever be. I'm just a
bastard blacksmith, king's son or no." Howland shook his head, but did not say
anything more on the subject, instead turning back to Robb. "What is your next
step, my lord?" He asked. "I'm not sure." Robb responded, earning a subtle
elbow from Margaery. He glanced down at her. She gave him a meaningful look and
laced their fingers together. "Well, there is one thing... Let us discuss the
war on the morrow, Margaery and I have a much more pressing concern."
I'm not used to this. Margaery looked at her reflection. The gown she'd been
given reminded her of the attire Catelyn Stark wore on that day in the
Stormlands. It was plain and practical and a little drab by her standards.
Margaery was used to gowns that cooled the wearer and left them looking just a
little bewitching, not... this. It feels good though. It feels exciting being
so out of one's comfort zone. It made her laugh, the sheer absurdity of her
situation. If somebody had come to me a year ago and told me that by the turn
of the season I'd be at Greywater Watch, a fugitive from the crown and getting
married to the former King in the North. I'd have asked them to see a maester.
She giggled. But I don't care.
"Come in." She called as footsteps approached the door. Sansa stepped in,
wearing a similar dress to her own. The redhead worried her lip, wringing her
hands. "I wanted to apologise for what I said to you when we were on the boat.
You're my sister, I shouldn't have said those things. Especially since we were
both in the same hell." Margaery stood and took the other girl's hands. "There
is no need for that, Sansa. My past activities don't make me the easiest person
to trust, I know that. I would be the same if I were in your shoes." Sansa
nodded. "Even so, I was wrong. Robb looks at you the same way that my father
looked at my mother, and you look at Robb like she did at him... I know that
they would love you as we do. That thing in the forest was not my mother. Lady
Catelyn Stark died at the Twins. Make sure Robb remembers that. He still needs
protecting from himself, too." Margaery smiled tearfully and wrapped Sansa in a
big hug. "Thank you." She whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me.
I promise I'll help him, and that I'll prove you right." Sansa smiled. "Come
on." They broke apart and made their way to the main hall.
Howland and Robb stood on the dais, waiting for them to arrive. Robb had
changed into more northern clothing and Margaery immediately felt more relaxed
at the sight of him. Things will never be the same again for us, but it is a
new start. She beamed up at him and blushed as he returned the smile. Gendry,
who had also changed into warmer garb, stood to one side and bowed his head.
Margaery smiled back at him and stepped onto the dais. Robb's lips parted as he
appraised her, his smile never fading.
"Who comes before the Gods?" Howland intoned.
Sansa held her head high and spoke clearly. "Margaery, of House Tyrell, a woman
trueborn and noble, comes to be wed. Who claims her?"
Robb stepped forwards. "Robb, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her.
Who gives her?"
"Sansa, of House Stark, whom she saved." She turned to Margaery, whose cheeks
were wet with tears. "Lady Margaery, will you take this man?"
Composing herself, Margaery nodded. "I take this man." And fell into Robb's
arms. Their lips met and they lingered together, forgetting everyone else in
the room as she ran her tongue across his lip and moaned softly. Eventually she
pulled away and glanced around sheepishly before burying her face in his
shoulder. "I'm sorry for being such a wreck." She whispered. Robb shook his
head and brushed her tears away with his thumb. "It's fine. You're happy,
that's the most important thing. We're both happy." They glanced over at Sansa,
who was also wiping away tears. "Besides, you aren't the only one."
Chapter End Notes
     Very possibly the worst written wedding in the history of all
     fanfiction but hey, it's two in the morning. Whoopdeedoo.
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Greywater Watch
The lizard wasn't bad. Margaery looked from her half-finished reptile to Robb's
plate, which was totally clear. She raised an eyebrow. I suppose he's eaten
worse. Guilt crept into her chest. Robb had endured unimaginable horror but she
was still thinking about Highgarden. She looked at her husband. Husband. Gods,
that seems so impossible. But here we are.
Robb's hands were clasped tightly, his nose rested on his fingers. Margaery
could tell he was reminiscing, again. Planning for battles that had already
happened. He needs to stop this. It'll tear him apart. Her hands slid around
him, one tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other gently
covering his fingers. She kissed his cheek to get his attention. When he
finally turned to face her, she gave him a look that could melt even the
coldest heart. "Why don't you..." She whispered, brushing her lips against his
jaw. "Stop thinking about whatever it is you're thinking about, stop worrying
about whatever you're worrying about, and come dance with me, then we can go to
bed."
Robb chuckled nervously. "Does my lady insist on dancing?" Margaery grinned.
"Oh, yes. She most certainly does." She kissed him on the mouth before pulling
him up with her and half-dragging him to the middle of the room. Robb looked
down at her apprehensively. "I'm not sure I even remember how to dance."
Margaery laughed. "It's not about remembering. Just follow my lead." She took a
step, then two steps, then another, guiding Robb as he gingerly followed her.
She glanced up at his face and almost fell over in a fit of giggles at his
expression. Robb's brow was furrowed in effort and concentration, his breathing
was ragged and he was close to sweating. "You've faced the full might of the
Lannister armies and you're exhausted already from a bit of dancing!"
Sansa watched them from the table, a small smile on her face as she watched the
couple move. She suppressed a laugh as Robb almost stumbled after Margaery. A
thought entered her head and she turned to Gendry. "Care to join me?" The
blacksmith blanched. "I never danced before, m'lady." Sansa grinned. "Well,
there's a first time for everything." Not taking no for an answer, she hauled
him up and pushed him out to the stage. Sansa exchanged a mischievous look with
Margaery, as though they'd had the same idea at the same time.
"Woah!" Robb exclaimed as Margaery spun around in front of him. "Hold your
horses!" Margaery laughed gaily and pushed him away. "Swap!" She called out and
Sansa darted over to Robb and Margaery latched onto Gendry.
"They'd be proud of you, all of them." Sansa told Robb as they danced. Robb
didn't meet her eyes for moment. "They'd be proud of you too, Sans. I'm proud
of you, Margaery is proud of you, Arya would be proud of you." Sansa nodded and
grinned up at him. "Swap!" She shouted and she pushed Robb away. His back hit
someone and he whipped around, reaching out blindly. He felt hands on him and
found himself face to face with Gendry. They stayed there for a second as their
position became apparent. Gendry swallowed thickly and Robb blinked, turning
his head towards Margaery and Sansa, who were barely containing their laughter.
He nodded and let go of Gendry, turning to the two women. "Well played." He
admitted, before sharply stepping up to Margaery and whispering in her ear.
"Now you've had your fun, shall we?"
Margaery bit her lip and looked up at him with her doe eyes. "Alright." She
nodded at Sansa and took Robb's hand. "Let's go." They walked out of the hall
towards the bedchamber they'd been given. Robb opened the door and they stepped
inside. Margaery looked around the room. The bed was covered with black and
grey furs, a small bedside table beside it. A few candles were lit along the
walls, illuminating the room with a comforting glow. "You know," Robb murmured,
his arms wrapping around her from behind, stroking her stomach. "I heard a
story that the crannogmen put aphrodisiacs in the candlewax to encourage
reproduction amongst themselves. Utter hogwash, obviously."
Margaery turned to look up at him with a raised eyebrow, her hands covering
his. "Are you saying you need an aphrodisiac to want to fuck me?" Robb laughed.
"I'd never need any kind of help to want to fuck you." He leaned down and
kissed her deeply as the door closed, his hand moving up slightly to her
breasts. His thumb brushed over her hardened nipple and she gasped. She kissed
down his jaw. "I want you." She whispered, her hands moving to the buttons on
her dress and she stepped away with a teasing smile as she stripped the top of
her dress off. Robb's lips parted at the sight of her, his cock becoming almost
painfully hard. "You..." He glanced from her eyes to her lips to her breasts to
her navel and followed her towards the bed. Margaery sat on the bed and undid
the buttons on his shirt, pushing it down his arms. She made a noise of
appreciation at his bare chest and glanced down to the bulge in his breeches.
She stroked up his legs and cupped it. "Looks like you need some help." She
looked up at him through her eyelashes as she untied the laces. Robb breathed
in deeply and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she took him out. She
pulled him out and kissed down his stomach, pushing him back a step so she
could kneel and take him in her mouth.
Robb groaned and carded his fingers through her hair. "Gods." He moaned as she
hummed, the vibrations travelling down his shaft. Her tongue twirled around his
head and Robb's knees nearly buckled. "Gods, Margaery. I'm close..." Margaery
didn't stop, instead sucking harder and moving faster. A few seconds later,
Robb groaned loudly and came in her mouth. Margaery stayed where she was for a
second, swallowing all of his seed. She pulled away with a small sigh and
looked up at him meekly. Robb sat down on the bed, catching his breath, and
hoisted her into his arms. He pressed his forehead against hers and looked
down, untying the laces that bound her skirt. Once they were loose, he pushed
her smallclothes away and stroked her thigh. Margaery kissed his neck and
shoulder before looking up at him. Robb grinned at her, his fingers moving
between her legs. Margaery arched her back as he touched her, gasping. "My
turn." Robb growled as he laid her down on the bed and kissed her hard on the
mouth, moving down to her breasts. He took one on his hand and sucked gently on
the other. Margaery moaned and arched her back further, tangling her fingers in
his curls and encouraging him to move down.
Robb pressed his tongue against her folds, licking slowly upwards, increasing
the pressure incrementally. "Please, Robb." Margaery pleaded, pushing her hips
up. Robb chuckled, teasing her pearl with his lips before slipping his tongue
even further into her folds. She thrashed around, crying out his name in
pleasure as she hit her high. She closed her eyes and her chest heaved, she
felt the mattress shift and Robb settled down beside her, gently stroking her
stomach. She looked at him with teary eyes and chuckled.
Robb smiled back and brushed her cheek with his thumb. They leaned in and
kissed deeply, tasting each other. His hands bracketed her hips and lifted her
on top of him. She reached down and put her hand around his hardening cock.
Robb cupped her face, looking into her eyes. "Are you ready?" He whispered.
Margaery nodded and guided him inside her. "Easy," Robb took her hand and
tangled their fingers. "take your time. Relax." She licked her lips and rocked
back. She tensed as he broke her maidenhead but felt no pain as he filled her.
She exhaled and grinned down at him, kissing him lightly as she gyrated her
hips into his. Robb took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, his hand
moving down to cup her arse. His other hand moved between them and thumbed her
clit. Bolts of pleasure struck her and she cried out again. "Robb." She moaned
as Robb started thrusting upwards. She arched her back even further and half-
screamed as they came together, Robb filling her with his seed while she
fluttered around him. Margaery slumped bonelessly onto the bed, chest heaving
and hair wild. Robb rolled onto his side and peppered her face with light
kisses. She looked up at him with a wide smile and returned them, laughing
quietly.
Chapter End Notes
     The most annoying thing about writing these damn fanfics is that I
     never know where to end a chapter.
***** Chapter 31 *****
The Tower of Joy
 
"Now it begins." The Sword of the Morning stood alongside his fellow
Kingsguard, facing the Northerners. Dawn seemed to glow in the Dornish sun as
it was drawn silently from its scabbard. "No." Ned Stark replied sadly. "Now it
ends." The seven Northerners drew their own swords and charged. One by one,
each man was cut down until only Eddard Stark and Arthur Dayne remained. The
legendary knight flourished his blades forward and Lord Stark met each swing.
It couldn't last forever, Robb could see that. He recognised the signs of an
outmatched swordsman as Ned gave yet more ground. Father beat Arthur Dayne, he
must have done. How else did he survive? He got his answer as his father's
sword was knocked from his grasp and Howland Reed, still holding in the guts
and intestines that threatened to burst from his stomach, rose behind the
knight and stabbed him through the neck. Robb looked on in shock as the two men
exchanged a look, and Ned picked up Dawn and struck the Sword of the Morning
down.
"If it makes it any easier, he was doomed from the moment that blade pierced
his flesh." present-day-Howland appeared at his shoulder. "The poison would
been a much more painful end, one not befitting a warrior of Arthur Dayne's
calibre. Your father did him a great mercy that day." Robb shook his head. "It
was not an honourable thing." He seethed. Howland closed his eyes. "What is
honourable and what is necessary are seldom the same, my lord. You have always
understood that better than your father. Would you rather that I had not
stepped in? That your father had perished on that day?" Robb had no response to
that.
"What is the purpose of this?" The scene had changed, screaming echoed around
him. A woman cried out his father's name. The door flew open and Lyanna Stark
lay abed, holding a small child. A servant muttered something to his father and
fled the room. "That you might know your father's secret. His only secret."
"What's his name?" Ned asked his sister, looking down at the boy. "Jon." Lyanna
wept. "Promise me you'll protect him. Robert will never forgive the Targaryens,
you know that." Ned just stared blankly at the baby. "Then Rhaegar..." He
tailed off. "Yes." She gasped. "Promise me, Ned."
"Promise me." Robb's jaw clenched so hard he could feel his teeth creaking.
"Wake me up." He demanded, rounding on Howland. Howland placed a hand on Robb's
chest. "Robb, listen to me. Calm down. Process this, be with your wife, discuss
it with her if you feel the need to. When you are calm, we will decide on our
next course of action. For now, wake." He pressed against Robb's chest and Robb
felt his back hit something soft. He felt smooth skin under his fingers and
smelled Margaery's scent in the darkness.
 
Greywater Watch
 
He opened his eyes and his wife's head lay on the exact spot that Howland had
placed his hand.
She must have felt him wake because she sighed contentedly and raised her head.
She looked at him through lidded eyes and smiled. "Good morning, my love." She
whispered and kissed him softly. Robb returned them distractedly, unable to
pull his mind away from what he had just seen.
Margaery noticed that something was off and she pulled away. "Was it a
nightmare?" Robb swallowed. "Not quite. But close enough." He sighed and sat
up. "I have to speak to Howland." Margaery held on to his wrist. "Why? What did
you see that you'll share with him but not with your wife?" Shame filled Robb
as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "You're right." He chuckled as he shuffled back
under the covers, wrapping an arm around her. "You're usually right." He kissed
the crown of her head. "Hmm. And don't you forget it." She growled, muzzling
into his arm.
Robb took a deep breath. "I dreamt I was in Dorne." Margaery frowned. "Dorne?
Where specifically? Sunspear?" He shook his head. "The Tower of Joy. Where my
father fought Arthur Dayne." She raised her eyebrows. "You mean where your
father beat Arthur Dayne. In single combat, no less. That's no mean feat." Robb
chuckled bitterly. "It would be, if that's what actually happened."
"How else could he have survived?" Robb closed his eyes and sighed. "My father
took six men with him, only two came back. My father and Howland Reed. Howland
was badly wounded, but he was still strong enough to stab Arthur Dayne in the
back." Margaery gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Robb."
He shook his head and chuckled. "Don't be. There's nothing you should be sorry
for. It's actually a little funny. The Lannisters and the Boltons and the Freys
all loved to gloat. 'Ned Stark's too honourable, he could never lie to anyone.'
What did they know? Seventeen years of lying to his best friend, to his wife,
to his children, to his nephew. All through his teeth." Margaery cocked her
head. "Which nephew? Robin Arryn?" Robb shook his head. "No. To Jon Snow.
Lyanna Stark died at the Tower of Joy. In childbirth." He elucidated, smiling
grimly. Margaery closed her eyes and sighed. "Do you believe that what you saw
was what really happened? That it isn't just a bad dream? I'm worried that
you're jumping to--" Robb silenced her by lifting her chin and pressing his
lips to hers. They broke apart and pressed their foreheads together. "Margaery,
I swear to you, I will not reach any conclusions or act until we have every
piece of the puzzle."
That seemed to mollify Margaery, as she sat up with a sigh. "I suppose we
should start finding those pieces, then." She murmured as she climbed out of
bed. Robb got up with her, placing his hands on her hips and kissing her neck.
"Let's have a bath first, eh?" He gestured over to a tub in the corner. "We
wouldn't want to be too dishevelled now, would we?" Margaery grinned,
remembering the previous night's activities in vivid detail. "Of course not, my
wolf." They walked over to the tub and Margaery bent down to place her hand in
the water. To her surprise, it was the perfect temperature. "What are the
chances that the crannogmen have a way of keeping the water just right for what
they need?" She wondered aloud. "Quite high, I should think." Robb responded
distractedly. Margaery looked over her shoulder. "Eyes front, soldier." She
teased, smirking up at him. He responded by pinching her backside before
climbing in to the tub, laying back and taking her in.
She admired him for a second, flushing and biting her lip. Heat pooled in her
stomach and her thighs rubbed together of their own accord. She stepped into
the tub, careful not to cause a splash, and sat back against his chest
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!