Thanks to everyone who has viewed, favorited, followed and/or reviewed this story. I've been amazed at the response. I have played with the timeline a little - Eddard was already executed, and Robb has been declared King in the North, but they have not crossed the Trident. I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story.

Robb Stark, King in the North, was pondering the problems with how to cross the fords and free Riverrun, when Lord Karstark brought a young boy into the planning tent, holding him up by the neck of his fine green and gold shirt, off the ground. He blinked at the boy, who looked cross, like Rickon when something had not gone his way, but intimidated by all the large northern men. "Put me down!" the boy complained, thrashing. "I am here to deliver a message to Lord Stark!"

Rickard Karstark shook the boy slightly. "Found this trying to sneak into the camp, Your Grace." Rickard said, with a toothy smile. "Says he has a message for you."

"I do!" The boy said petulantly.

"Oh, let the boy down, Rickard. He can't be much older than Bran." Catelyn Stark said, with a shake of her head.

Rickard looked to Robb, who nodded. Slowly he let the small boy down. "I hardly knew I was holding him, to be honest, he's so light!" He said, with a laugh.

Robb could hardly imagine the boy being much of a threat, but he put on his serious face anyway. He had just been crowned King in the North, and he had to represent his people. "You carry a message from the Lannisters?"

Garick Flowers had a moment of looking utterly offended, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head. "No, sir…"

"Your Grace, boy! You stand before the King in the North!" One of the men corrected.

"No, Your Grace." Garick corrected, attempting a bow, and half-succeeding. He pointed to the golden rose on his tunic. "I bring a message from Lady Margaery Tyrell."

Robb blinked twice. He knew the Tyrell name, they were one of the most powerful houses in Westeros, but they were as south as you could go, and he hadn't paid as much attention to them as he probably should have. He looked to his mother for guidance. "I thought Lady Tyrell's name was Alerie."

"It is." Catelyn said, also surprised, but more knowledgeable in the houses to the south. "Margaery is her daughter, Ser Loras's younger sister."

"What's some souther chit want with the King in the North?" Someone grumbled.

Garick flung around, looking for the voice, pride coming out as his chin wibbled. "Lady Margaery is not a chit!" He said, almost shouting, but not quite. "She's kind and smart and…"

Robb put a hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him back around as he would have one of his brother's if they were gearing up for a real fit of temper. "I'm sure she appreciates you defending her honor...what's your name?"

"Garick," the boy said, slightly calmer. "Garick Flowers." He blinked and bowed again. "Your Grace." He blushed slightly. "I apologize for the outburst."

Robb nodded, noting that the boy was a bastard - Flowers in the south was like Snow in the north. "What's your message, Garick?"

Garick pulled himself up to his full height and tried to look serious. "Lady Margaery Tyrell bid me to tell you that no matter the actions of House Tyrell, she supports you." He repeated slowly, afraid of missing anything. "She comes from the south with three thousand men to aid your cause, as well as what food and resources she could gather before we left The Reach."

Catelyn's eyebrows jumped up, surprised. "The Tyrells have declared for Renly Baratheon."

Garick nodded, chin jutting again. "House Tyrell has declared their support to Renly Baratheon, Lady Margaery is declaring her support for you, with what people are loyal to her over her House." Garick, who had been a kitchen boy in Highgarden saw their confusion and continued, trying to help. "She will clear the way of red and gold in three nights at the Ruby Ford in good faith, so you can march to aid Riverrun as the lions sleep."

"What can some Southron girl do to clear the way at the Ruby Ford?" Rickard said, in disbelief. "And why declare for us when her home is so far away?"

"Lady Margaery Tyrell is Olenna Redwyne's granddaughter. I suspect she has a plan, if she has an ounce of her grandmother's wits." Catelyn said, amused at him. "Though that doesn't answer why." She looked at the boy. "Do you know why, young man?"

Garick pulled on the edges of his tunic. "I'm not supposed to know." He said quietly.

"Go on, Garick." Robb said kindly. "I won't judge her harshly, no matter what you say." It wasn't exactly true, but three thousand men were three thousand men, and could help free the Riverlands and rid them of the Lannisters.

Garick started speaking quicker now that he was not trying to remember a message. "Lady Margaery always does what she thinks is right and wise. The Lannisters have done horrible things and they profaned the Sept, but she thinks Renly wrong...and...that the North deserves justice." He shrugged. "She wants to be here." His voice dropped. "And she didn't want to marry Renly, he loves another Tyrell, but Lord Mace..." He trailed off and shrugged.

Robb considered this. So much of his movements were all about his father first, and then his sisters, followed by his banners and the people of the North, that he had not thought beyond it. Unlike Renly and Stannis he had no interest in the Iron Throne. "You can thank your lady, Garick, and tell her we are grateful for the men and supplies, as well as any help she can give. We may welcome her, if she proves true at Ruby Ford." He paused as the boy nodded enthusiastically. "But please inform her that I have no interest in the Iron Throne, only to protect the North, get my sisters back, and establish Northern independence."

Garick nodded easily, but Maege Mormont had other thoughts. "Can we trust a girl Hightower bred? Lynesse Hightower was a spoilt brat who could not weather the North and brought nothing but ruin with her."

Robb shook his head, sliding more and more into a politician as time wore on. "If she gets us over the Ruby Ford, we can trust her, if she cannot weather the North, she is free to return South."

"If it works." Umber noted.

"If it works." Robb agreed. "If it works, we won't have to worry about the Freys. If it doesn't, we've lost nothing but a few days we were going to lose in planning and negotiation anyway."

Margaery was pleased when the Lannister men left, their arms full, and looking as though she was a miracle brought by the Seven. The pieces of a plan falling into place felt like nothing else. She moved through the encampment checking on everyone and keeping spirits high and happy. She just hoped that everything would continue as well as it had started.

Tywin Lannister was looking over his maps with his generals, such as they were, when his strategizing was interrupted by a nervous Lannister guard. "My lord?" The young man said nervously. "There's a messenger for you."

"Well?" Tywin barked. "Send him in!" He turned back to his maps, only to hear his brother chuckle at his side. He looked over to see some young boy in Tyrell colors. He stopped and stood up straight, surprised. "You have a message for me, boy?"

Lynten nodded, and bowed deeply. "From Lady Margaery Tyrell, milord." He held out the envelope to the patriarch of the lions, and held his ground.

"Is that so?" Tywin said, taking the envelope and eying the green wax seal. He broke it with his dagger and pulled out the letter.

My Lord Lannister,

I pray to the Warrior and the rest of the Seven that this message finds you in good health and good place. I am, at the moment, camped about a day's ride from your encampment with three wagons of supplies from the Reach and three thousand good, strong Southern men willing to take up arms. I fear my Lord Father and brother have let their ambition reign unchecked and have forgotten that House Tyrell have once and always remained good and faithful stewards to the crown. While what I can offer is paltry compared to the numbers of my House, I feel it is my duty to do what is right for the realm to truncate war and ruin and offer it up to end these conflicts.

Sincerely,

Lady Margaery Tyrell

"Well," Tywin said, leaning back. "It seems as though what they say about Tyrell women being smarter than their men has just been proven true." He threw the letter on the table. "Mace's daughter has disavowed her father's idiocy and brought us three thousand men and wagons of supplies."

Kevan Lannister was startled. "She's only sixteen!"

"Who cares how old she is if she's brought us anything other than fish?" Daven argued. "All of us are sick to death of fish and hard, stale bread."

"We shall see." Tywin said. "She's a day's ride or so she claims, but who knows at what pace they travel." Tywin hated to see good minds wasted on women. If what she said was true, Margaery Tyrell had a better head for politics than most of the men at his table. It was no small feat for a girl of sixteen to steal three thousand men from their sworn house. "We shall see."

The day dawned bright, albeit chilly, and Margaery had her cousins prepare for the parts they were playing. All three of them dressed in their best riding clothes, like fine ladies out for a day's ride instead of the weary travelers they were. Everyone there wanted to present House Tyrell as the gleaming Rose of the South, bearing gifts and aid, from the squires polishing armor to the messenger boys and stable lads, all arrayed in fine tunics. "A rose is only as good as its' petals." Margaery told her younger cousin Nyssa, while the girls were taking turns doing their hair. "Without the petals, everyone can see the thorns."

Today the group was as energized as they had been when they first left The Reach, and as Margaery rode in front, on her silver palfrey, her concern for her people wrapped up tight. No matter what, she would feel guilt for every man who died as a result of this move, but she could not show it, especially when so far nothing had happened. It did not do to dwell on doom where it had yet to occur. That was like inviting the Stranger to take a pick. The day was halfway through when she realized that despite the fact that she had worn a lighter dress, she had not shivered once, despite the way the wind blew at them. She pulled herself up straighter and smiled. Even the fact that she was adapting, that she was growing stronger did not make it any easier to be bright and bubbly after a full day's ride when they finally reach the encampment. Still, Margaery does as she has always done, and pulls herself up as properly as she can as the red and gold banners come into sight.

Her earlier gifts had worked their magic, and even as she rode up, she could see grateful eyes. It made her almost feel bad for the deception, almost. The guards, weary of a long day and war that they did not particularly want, escort Margaery to Lord Tywin, who stands as she enters his tent.

"Lady Margaery," Tywin said, with something not quite a bow and not quite a nod. "I was quite surprised by your letter."

Margaery dropped into a deep curtsy, but averted her eyes for only a moment. This was a game with a delicate balance, Tywin would not believe a simpering sycophant or trust someone too shrewd or too foolish. "Lord Tywin, it is an honor sir."

"My men say you have not lied about your numbers. How did a girl of six and ten manage to convince three thousand troops to follow her?" Tywin asked, studying the doe-eyed girl, dressed so impractically for war or even for wandering.

Margaery smiled at that. "My lord-father forgets that the Tyrells are stewards in his ambition, my lord. He forgets how House Gardener was destroyed by placing themselves in a battle they could not win. I have no desire to be destroyed in going against the rightful king, and neither did the men. The will to preserve the self, when cloaked in obedience to a member of the house can ease a man's conscience."

Tywin studied her shrewdly, looking for flaws in her words. He noticed how in the long silence and under his eyes, she did not shrink away or quail, and instead, stood confidently before him in a way most of his men did not. "Well, we thank you, Lady Tyrell. We are in your your debt."

Margaery nodded and curtsied again. "Thank you, Lord Tywin." She said easily. "Might I go assist my cousins with tending the supplies we've brought?"

"Of course." Lord Tywin replied, with a slightly deeper bow. "And you must sup with my generals and I for the duration of your stay." He wanted to get to know her better, a Lannister never forgets his debts, after all. Besides, with a head like that one, she might be able to turn his grandson into a proper king.

Margaery smiled prettily at him. "It would be an honor, milord." She curtsied again, and took her leave.

Garick found them at the camp, and Ser Garth Fossaway was the one to bring him before Margaery. She thanked her cousin, and then settled Garick at the table in her tent, handing him peaches and cheese from her chest. "Here, Garick, sit and eat." She encourages, pouring him a cup of water. "How was your journey? You were not harmed?"

"Nah," Garick said, with a mouthful of peach and boyish bravado. "Some big oaf tried to catch me, but I made him take me to King Robb."

Despite all of her siblings being older Margaery had spent enough time with children, noble and smallfolk, and rewrote his words in her mind without bursting the bubble of his brave tale. She picks up her embroidery, and sits across from him as if he wasn't an orphan she had brought to the Highgarden kitchens because she found him endearing. "And what did King Robb have to say? Was he cross with you?"

"Only a bit when I challenged one of his men, because they called you names." Garick said, puffing up slightly. "But not really."

Margaery offered him a smile, pleased with that answer. "I knew I could count on you to defend me." She said easily, watching as her messenger flushed with pride. "And do you bring a message back?"

Garick nodded, mouth full of peach like a squirrel. It took him a few minutes to swallow, even with taking a deep drink of water, but he knew Margaery would scold him for talking with his mouth full. "He's grateful for the men and supplies, and will gladly welcome you after you prove true at Ruby Ford, but he wants you to know he has no interest in the Iron Throne, only freeing his sisters and Northern independence."

"And the others? What did his men think of my message?" Margaery asked, nodding at this. She had known that he did not want the Iron Throne.

Garick made a face. "They are unsure." He admitted. "They aren't sure what to think."

Margaery nodded, she had expected as much. "What did you think of King Robb, Garick?"

Garick considered the question, pleased that Lady Margaery valued his opinion so much. "He didn't treat me like a child." Garick recounted. "Or say anything about being a Flowers." Garick was sensitive about his last name, because he had been found in a burned out house by the corpses of his parents, but without a name to put to them, all he could be called was Flowers. "He listens to his men...and there was a few ladies there too...but he made the decision himself." He considered all of this. "I think he's a good person."

Margaery listened attentively, interested in Garick's opinion. Every piece of information she could get was helpful, and if his people could respect Robb Stark everything would be easier. "Good. You've done well, Garick." She handed him a piece of candy. "Finish your cheese and off to your tent with you." She patted him on the head. "Tomorrow is a busy day."