A/N: This was written as a birthday present for my best friend Rachel, who truly deserves nothing less than the world but I'm afraid this is the best that I can do. It's based partially on the Game of Thrones Lannister honeypot theory, a.k.a. one of the best/worst cases of accidental foreshadowing I've ever seen on television, so if you're a huge Talisa fan then maybe you might not be particularly interested. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy it and comments would be very much appreciated. I'm planning on making this a six-part story, and though I can't make any promises I'm going to make an effort to try to update as often as I can :)
There were many qualities that the Stark family could be said to possess, but before she came to Winterfell Margaery Tyrell had never expected hosting excellent feasts to be one of them. While it was certainly true that they were not as extravagant as the feasts in Highgarden, or as plentiful the ones in King's Landing, it seemed to her that House Stark won out when it came to ensuring their guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Today was King Robb Stark's twenty-first nameday and it was no exception.
"Come dance with us, Your Grace!" a young Northern woman Margaery had not met before called out, beckoning to her king. Catelyn Stark was watching from the high table and looked mildly concerned by the young lady's indelicate behavior, but Robb himself merely smiled and shook his head slightly. The ale had been flowing freely all evening, and the young woman who had called out to him was as red-faced as some of the men.
"You would be embarrassed to see me dance, Lady Wylla," Robb called back, giving a gentle laugh. He turned his attention back to Margaery then, and appeared puzzled when she met his gaze with slightly raised eyebrows. "What does that look mean, pray tell me?" he questioned.
"It means you are being far too modest, Your Grace," Margaery told him, "You're a perfectly good dancer."
"Barely adequate, I think you mean," Robb countered, causing Margaery to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing. She watched as he turned his head to look down the table, and it was only then that she realised that quite a few people were staring at her and their king, or perhaps at the two of them sat side by side. Robb's seat at the high table had been abandoned for most of the celebrations, having been forgone for a seat next to Margaery at a table she was sharing with some of her family members. Robb seemed far more at ease where he was now, although it appeared as though more than a few people found it passing strange that he was not in his usual seat.
"Do you think your parents and brothers are having a good time?" Robb asked his companion, having spotted Mace, Alerie, Ser Garlan and Ser Loras Tyrell on the far end of the table, "They seem to be enjoying the food at least."
"I'm sure they are," Margaery answered, "I think they're finding it a little bit different to what they are accustomed to, but not in a bad way. And what of you, Your Grace? Are you enjoying your nameday celebrations?"
"Well…yes, but in truth I always feel a little bit embarrassed on these types of occasions," Robb admitted, "It's as though I don't know what to do with myself." He paused for a moment, his gaze temporarily dropping to the table below him. "Margaery…are you going home with your family when they leave tomorrow?" he asked, his voice quiet enough that Margaery had to lean forwards to hear him.
"I wasn't planning on it, Your Grace," Margaery answered, looking mildly surprised, "Not unless you wish me to leave."
"No," Robb said immediately, "No, of course not. I merely wouldn't want you to…surely you must wish to go back home to Highgarden and the life you have there. I wouldn't want you to stay here against your own wishes."
"My life is here in the North now," Margaery affirmed, giving Robb a smile which she was pleased to see him return. It vanished from his face almost as quickly as it had appeared, however, and Margaery felt not for the first time that there was something else her companion wanted to say but for some reason couldn't bring himself to. She didn't like to press him, however, particularly during moments such as these where his eyes briefly gave away that his thoughts were lost in the past. "So, Your Grace," she addressed him instead, "You said you were unsure of what to do with yourself on occasions such as these? I believe that traditionally on his nameday a man should drink, and eat, and enjoy himself…and dance. He should most definitely dance."
"Is that so?" Robb questioned, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips again, "Would you like to dance, then, Lady Margaery?"
"I would love to, Your Grace," Margaery answered, upon which Robb stood to his feet and offered her a hand.
Those who hadn't been staring before were most definitely staring as Margaery made her way to the centre of the Great Hall of Winterfell with their king, but neither of them cared enough to pay them any mind. They took their respective places as the next piece of music started and Robb complimented Margaery on her white gown embroidered in green, to which she smiled and bowed her head in thanks. The two of them kept an appropriate, respectable distance between them as they danced but their eyes told a different story, their gazes never leaving each others' faces for a moment even when the steps called for them to temporarily change partners. Once or twice Robb's hand brushed against Margaery's hip and once or twice she leant her weight against his chest and once or twice she felt her breath catch in her throat.
"Happy nameday, Your Grace. May there be many, many more to come," Margaery told Robb softly while they danced, and the smile he gave her would stay with her for the rest of the night.
It was late by the time Margaery went to bed that evening, and even later by the time she found herself still lying in her bed with eyes wide open, thinking of one person and one person alone. In truth, he had been on her mind for a long time, particularly since the day he had told her he would be inviting her family to visit Winterfell at their earliest convenience. It wasn't the first night she had lain awake thinking of Robb Stark, and she felt fairly certain it wouldn't be the last. He permeated her thoughts in such a manner that when she heard a knock at the door to her chambers, some irrational part of her had the smallest bit of hope that it might be him.
"Gods, Garlan, you startled me," Margaery informed her older brother when it turned out to be him standing on the other side of the door. She pulled at the sash on her robe, tightening it around her waist and beckoning him to come in.
"Sorry," Garlan apologised as he stepped inside, "You weren't asleep, were you? I was planning on coming earlier, but King Robb wanted to speak to me and to Father."
"He did?" Margaery questioned, her interest piqued immediately, "What did he wish to say?"
"He didn't ask for your hand, Margaery. I'm sorry," Garlan said, his expression sympathetic "I know you had been hoping…"
"Well, it'll only be a matter of time, I'm sure," Margaery affirmed, "You saw tonight with your very own eyes…"
"Yes, I saw how he favours you and so did everyone else, but Father is worried that this will all amount to nothing, and I'm inclined to agree with him," Garlan admitted, giving a heavy sigh, "King Robb is under a lot of pressure from the Northern lords to choose one of their daughters for his wife, Margaery. Father thinks that the best thing for you to do is to come home with us so he and Willas can find another husband for you."
"Such as whom? Robb Stark is the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms aside from King Stannis, and if Father wants him to agree to cast his wife aside and marry me then I wish him nothing but the best of luck. Even Cersei Lannister was clever enough to know that trying to seduce Stannis Baratheon would be futile," Margaery pointed out, shaking her head vehemently, "Robb…King Robb most likely simply isn't ready to take another wife yet. Would you be so soon after finding out your own wife had betrayed you the way his did?"
"I can't even imagine what it must have been like for him," Garlan admitted, "But the fact of the matter is that he knows just as well as you or I do that the North and the Starks desperately need an heir. He may have to wed soon out of sheer necessity and then what of you, Margaery? Do you expect to stay here and dine with him and dance with him and have intimate conversations with him when he is married with a child on the way? Father is even wondering if King Robb wishes to keep you here as his future mistress."
"I know Robb. He would never ask that of me," Margaery stated firmly, "He isn't capable of such a thing."
"Well, his father was perfectly capable of fathering a bastard son to bring home to his wife while she carried his trueborn child," Garlan pointed out only to have Margaery narrow her gaze at him. He gave another heavy sigh then, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. "Sister, I do think King Robb seems to be a good man, and there's no doubt that he's powerful as you say. I just think Father is worried that he is no longer a viable option."
"Father wants me to be a queen, does he not?" Margaery countered, "Unless he plans to have Queen Selyse killed anytime soon this is the only way, and you can tell him I said as much. Robb is going to need time, but I'm going to stay right here until that time comes."
"Fine. I'll tell him. He won't be happy about it, but I'll tell him," Garlan promised, giving a solemn nod of his head, "Try to get some sleep, sister. I'll see you in the morning to say goodbye before we set off back home."
Margaery reached forwards to envelope her brother in a hug and bid him good night in return, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. She felt bad as bad lying to him as she did to any member of her family, but she knew making her father believe she was only interested in Robb Stark as a potential powerful Tyrell ally was the only way he would allow her to continue staying in Winterfell as she had been for the past few moons.
The predicament she found herself in was her own doing, she was well aware of that. When her brother had left and she had returned to lying on top of her sheets, her mind was again filled with the image of an auburn-haired, blue-eyed young king who made her heart beat a bit faster when he smiled. He had a weary look to him sometimes when his eyes betrayed all that he had been through despite having only twenty-one years to his name, but he had a good heart and there wasn't a single person whom Margaery had seen him treat with anything less than courtesy and respect. They often went for walks together and she had shared many intimate details of her life with him that she had never shared with others, yet she couldn't help but want to be even closer to him than she was already. Above anything else, she wanted him to find happiness, however that was possible for a man who had lost his father and been betrayed by the woman he'd loved. She knew deep down that she would stay as long as he wanted her to, even if Robb didn't feel for her as she did for him, even if he did but wed another. It was that thought, perhaps, that scared her more than anything else.
"You saved my life, Margaery Tyrell," he had told her once. Her only wish was that she could have spared him the pain of what he had discovered as a result.