AN: Thank you for the feedback so far. I really appreciate it! Thank you for reading and reviewing!
The Lannisters send a force to reckon with. The armies of the Reach and the Stormlands and the North have far more in number, but Robb believes their enemies are trying to dwindle that number and make them weaker before their attack on King's Landing.
The night before they're meant to attack, she decides to pay a visit to her husband. After all, what sort of wife would she be if she did not offer him some comfort before he's meant to go into battle? What sort of queen would she be if she did not try at least one more time to give him an heir?
She finds him collapsed on his bed, his shirt off and his breeches unbuckled. She gives a heavy sigh, walking over to take a seat next to him.
"Margaery?" he questions, rubbing his eyes before he opens them. There's the stench of ale in the air and something else she can't place.
"You're drunk," she says softly while he twists a strand of her hair around his finger and gives a low chuckle.
"We're going off to battle tomorrow. Would you deprive me of one a last night of indulgence? What is it that your wolf called me? …A summer knight? He's right, you know. I could die tomorrow, my queen."
"You reek of my brother." She wrinkles her nose and this only prompts him to laugh more.
"You look so much like him when you do that," he remarks, tugging gently on her earlobe, much like an older sibling would.
"Yes. It's unfortunate you can't put a child in him."
Renly chortles then, dropping his hand from her hair and placing it over his face. "He'd be a horrible mother," he exclaims, his voice breaking. He falls silent for a few seconds before declaring, "You should lay with the King of the North tonight. It might be your last chance. He could die tomorrow too."
"He never dies," she retorts, her face flushing as red as her husband's.
"Still, he would enjoy something like that before shipping out. And he would make you feel good… better than I ever could."
It was never about feeling good, she thinks to herself. It was about you gaining an heir before your death. She frowns down at him. "Are you giving me permission?"
He nods his head. "Go ahead. I won't stop you."
"Do you want me gone so that you can have my brother again?"
He laughs again, and that is all the answer she needs. She stands from the bed, slipping on the cloak that Robb gave her and marching over to his tent.
The only one standing guard is his direwolf, and Grey Wind does not stir when she approaches. She fishes some dried venison from her pocket and tosses it to him, and he catches it in his mouth. He stands, stretching and then nudging her hand. She drops to her knees and scratches behind his ear. "What am I doing here?" she asks the wolf. Before she can stand, she hears the rustle of fabric and a figure appears at the entrance of the king's tent.
"Is everything alri-" He stops short as he sees her. "Lady Margaery…" His eyes turn to his wolf then. "He likes you." He seems surprised.
"I gave him some dried meat," she admits with a small smile, ruffling the fur at Grey Wind's neck. "He warmed to me after that."
"A Lannister could give him a whole boar to feast on, and I'm certain he would just as soon tear their throat out. I haven't seen him this docile in a long while. What are… Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Grey Wind presses his snout to her cheek, and she laughs, the noise piercing the silent night air. "He is so remarkable. You're very fortunate to have found him."
"Aye, that I am," he says, still looking astounded that his wolf is so tame with her. "Might you come inside? I'd enjoy your company before I turn in."
She hesitates, wanting to accept his invitation but certain she will end up regretting the decision to do so, not for her own sake but for his. She grows heated when she remembers Renly's words. "I'm sorry, but I should be heading to bed, your grace."
"Oh." His face falls. "Goodnight then, my lady."
"But I thought I might wish you the best," she says quickly, not wanting to upset him. "I will pray for your safety tomorrow. I hope the gods will hear me without a sept. But you keep to the old ways, do you not?"
He nods his head, brightening considerably. "I was often told my gods don't have ears where there are no weirwoods, but I'd like to believe otherwise. If they cannot keep me safe then I pray your gods will."
She smiles, placing a hand on his arm. "You have much to fight for, more so than those who desire the throne or the crown, though I'm sure you'd wear it well." He looks troubled, opening his mouth as if to speak, but she does not give him the chance. "I know that's not what you want. You want your sisters. You want the North. Don't worry. You will have all of that someday soon. Goodnight, your grace."
She turns on her heel and makes her way to her tent, lying down on her bed. Robb Stark will take the North and marry his Frey, and Renly will sit on the Iron Throne, drinking his wine and fucking her brother. And, maybe, if he's lucky, one day he will be able to turn her around and bend her over and put a child in her, and the Baratheon line will continue.
She feels a tear run down her cheek, and she swipes at it angrily, sitting up in alarm when the flaps of her tent begin to move. Her fear only lasts a few seconds before she makes out Grey Wind's figure.
He pads over to her, and she sees a ripped piece of parchment attached to the rope around his neck. She takes it in her hands, reading the scribbled handwriting. If our last battle is tomorrow then I wish for him to spend the night with you. Sleep well, my lady. –Robb
Her eyes fill with tears again. She shifts to make room and pats the space beside her, and Grey Wind barely has to jump to get up on the bed. He lies down and she wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur. Sleep comes easy then.
She awakes to sunlight, to the sight of her husband hovering her with a smirk on his face.
"Gods, when I told you to lay with the Young Wolf this is not exactly what I had in mind," he remarks, laughing at his own jest.
Grey Wind bears his teeth, snapping at the man, but he stops when she places a hand on his head. "Shut up," she tells her husband, sounding more childish than she wishes.
"I hope you save your prayers for me today. As you said, Robb won't need them. He never dies."
"There's no sept here," she tells him, and he only laughs again.
"The gods take too much credit for what men do, anyhow…" He trails off, looking down at the ground and shifting the helmet he's holding further up on his hip. "Goodbye, Margaery," he says eventually.
She purses her lips together before standing and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. "I will see you later, Renly."
Further farewells are made in the few hours of preparation before battle. She kisses Loras and Garlan on the cheek and ruffles her youngest brother's hair slightly, making him smile. He seems far less worried than his king, joking with his fellow men about how flowers and stags will take down lions.
She does not see Robb among them, and so she goes to find him, Grey Wind practically leading her towards his tent. He's being dressed by his squire in armor, seeming much larger in his padded shirt.
He looks surprised to see her and even more so when steps forward and smiles at his squire. "Allow me," she offers, and the young man steps back and dips out of the tent so that she can take his place.
He does not ask her if she knows what she's doing, a small smile on his face as she talks to him while she helps him with his chainmail. "I used to do this for my brothers all of the time. They wouldn't trust anyone but me when I grew old and strong enough to lift everything."
She bends down to attach his greaves to either leg and then reaches for his breast and back plate, giving a small giggle as he sucks in his stomach to help her get them on. "Is that really necessary?" she asks, quirking a brow. "It's not as if I'm clothing a puff fish."
He lets out the breath he was holding and laughs, shaking his head at her. "What in seven kingdoms is a puff fish, my lady?"
She glances at him before reaching for one of his gauntlets and then taking his hand as she slides it over his fingers. "Sometimes I forget you're from the North. I'll just have to show you one day, won't I? When the war is over you can make a visit to the sea with me."
"I'd like that," he says, and her hand lingers in his bare one before she slips on his other gauntlet.
"Be safe today. I'm holding you to your word." She looks up at him through her lashes, smiling still. "You wouldn't want to die not knowing what a puff fish looked like."
"That would be a shame," he replies softly.
A bout of silence falls between them before she finally lets go of his hand and moves to leave his tent. She almost wishes him luck, but then she realizes he will not need it. "I will see you soon, your grace," she says quietly. She closes her eyes and remembers his face, his smile and curls and eyes, and then she goes.
She prays throughout the day, to the old or new gods, she is not sure. The hours pass slowly, the silence unnerving and unnatural. She supposes she never truly knew war until now, and she gives an anxious laugh when Robb's voice floods her head with warnings of winter coming.
She's alone until nightfall when a deafening roar seems to rise from out of the ground, the camp suddenly boisterous and lively once more.
Sobs and shouts can be heard from her tent, and she runs outside, joining the chaos and pushing her way through the throng of people towards the front. She sees the horses, the armored and mud-stained men, some of them drenched in red as well.
Her eyes search for her brothers, but her heart plummets when they're met with the view of another. Renly looks to be in a peaceful sleep, his arms folded over his chest, a gash through his chest. "No," she whispers, giving a small whimper as tears fall from her eyes and she sees he isn't breathing.
As the men that are moving him step forward, she catches a glimpse of the other fallen soldiers, her body going cold at the familiar sight of Tyrell armor.
She drops to her knees when she sees Loras stretched out on a wooden board, his perfect pale face marred with wounds, his beautiful golden-brown hair dampened with blood. Her handmaiden moves to her side but she pushes her away, her fists and her face meeting the earth as she sobs, choking on air.
"Loras!" she screams "No! No!" She stands then, rushing to her brother and smoothing the hair out of his lifeless eyes. "Brother, darling brother, come back. Come back to me."
One of the men from the parade tries to lead her away, but she fights him with strength she did not know she had. "Take my place," she hears a voice speak, and the man leaves her, only to be replaced by another. She looks up, and through her blurry vision she can see Robb Stark. Robb Stark, still alive and seemingly unharmed. While Renly and Loras lay dead on blood-stained boards.
She tries to shove past him, but he is steadfast, holding her in place as his men move the bodies to a suitable place. He leads her by the arm to her tent as she resists him, desperate to be by her brother's side. Robb won't let her go, not until he knows she won't run.
He lets her beat on his armored chest until her hands are sore, until she can't fight any longer and cries herself to sleep with him by her side.
Don't take his bones to Highgarden, she tells them. He'll want to be buried with his king.
And so he is, beneath a flowering tree at Storm's End. They take the journey the very next day. Though the fight with the Lannisters was won, she feels as though she has lost everything.
She can hear the crashing of waves against the cliff side, the wind blowing her skirts about her ankles as the party that buried the king and Ser Loras leave her there to grieve on her own... A husband and a brother dead.
She stands at their gravesite, taking shallow breaths in through her mouth. She wants to be sick, but she has not eaten since the battle, and so all she does is choke up some of the wine and water that was sloshing about in her empty stomach. She thinks herself foolish for worrying of Renly putting an heir in her or winning battles or the Iron Throne. What is all of that worth if everyone she loves dies?
When she finally picks herself up and makes to leave, she realizes she is not alone, the figure of a man standing a ways from the tree where she is. She furrows her brow, wishing she was angrier with him. He brought this on her. He brought war to the knights of summer who would have sat idly around had he not proposed an alliance. But his eyes are so full of pain and guilt that all she can do is try to brush past him on her way back to her horse.
Robb takes her by the elbow and swings her round, and she lets out a small, muffled noise as her face hits his chest. And then his arms are around her, strong and hugging her close with what seems like all of his might, as if he can keep her from falling apart. Her breath is ragged as she returns his embrace, the fabric of his shirt bunching under her fingers when she clings to him and begins to sob.
"I'm sorry." His head drops to rest on top of hers and one of his hands runs over her hair. "I'm so sorry, my lady."
She shakes her head and lets herself cry.
Their party decides to stay at Storm's End for a few weeks more, the castle providing a much better shelter than their tents as injured men are cared for and those under Robb's command continue to make plans for the siege on King's Landing. Everything seems to be up in the air because of Renly's death.
Her grief and pain comes and goes in bouts, but she finds hope with Robb's help. Walks in the afternoon when they are both free become a habit of theirs. They always manage to set aside time for each other, away from the rest of the people holed up at Storm's End.
"How did Loras die?" she asks him one day as they walk the winding path towards the fields.
He looks at her with wide eyes but answers anyway. "He jumped in front of Renly and took a blow that was meant for the king. He would have lived had he not valued another's life over his… I'm sorry, my lady. That is not very reassuring."
"You should call me Margaery when no one else is around, your grace," she says softly before continuing. "You have no need to apologize. Not for telling me the truth."
"You mustn't call me anything but Robb, no matter the circumstance," he counters, giving her the softest of smiles. "Your brother was brave. He was a good man. When Renly watched him die he… there was a sort of madness in him. He did not care who he was cutting through, so long as you came near him you were dead. But he did not watch himself, and he was struck down as well."
She nods her head, a few tears slipping down her face at the action. He reaches over and wipes at her tears with his thumb. Heat erupts over her cheeks at his tender gesture, and his eyes fall to the ground when he pulls away. "There is a verse the bards used to sing in Highgarden…" she speaks up. "Once the sun has set, no candle can replace it."
He seems taken aback by her words. "Is this how you think of your late husband?"
"No," she says softly. "But I'm sure it crossed Renly's mind briefly when my brother died."
Realization dawns on Robb's face and he falls silent, seemingly embarrassed over rushing to conclusions. She moves closer to him as they walk side by side.
His hand brushes against hers, twice, though she does not know if it's intentional. She cannot read his expression. She takes the initiative to link their pinky fingers together. He takes her hand and then she intertwines their fingers. His cheeks are a faint pink when she sneaks a subtle glance at him.
"Tell me of Winterfell," she requests of him, and so he does.
They talk and talk, of everything and nothing, their hands swinging slightly in time as they walk. She held hands with her brothers before, with her cousins and friends as they played in the gardens of her home, with her mother and father when she was a little girl. But this feels very different.
