Author's Note: This is something short, but I hope you enjoy and leave a review :) Also I pictured Pierce Brosnan as Rickard if that helps anyone.
"My word…" breathed the handsome middle-aged man mounted atop an equally handsome brown palfrey, looking out to the city of King's Landing from a high hill some three miles to the southwest. The man had dark brown hair that was slowly turning a steel grey that served to only make him look more distinguished, he had a piercing but warm dark brown gaze and was clad in an elegantly tailored set of Maester's robes. Around his neck were many links of black iron, bronze, copper, brass, platinum, gold, red gold, pewter, steel, electrum, lead, tin, iron, silver and Valyrian steel. This man was known as Rickard, once of the masterly House Holt of White Harbor. A third-born son from a second wife to Elbert Holt, sworn bannerman to House Manderly, Rickard had been sent to the Citadel at the age of 7, where he had become an accomplished student. His great interests had always been in medicinal care, histories and warfare, and his time at the Citadel had allowed him to explore other subjects. When the War of the Five Kings broke out, Maester Rickard had smuggled himself from the Citadel to White Harbor, where he joined House Manderly's retinue as a Maester attending to the injured. His skills and expertise had been so valued that Lord Wyman had eventually named him to his own council, despite the fact that Wyman had a Maester of his own; Theomore once of House Lannister.
When Pycelle had been stripped of his chain and sent to the Black Cells by order of King Robb Stark, the Conclave called in all available Maesters to elect a new Grand Maester. The voting had taken a grueling three days, with over eighty Maesters being nominated for the position. On the third day, Rickard had been elected by unanimous decision. His Northern heritage, amiable nature, political connections to powerful Northern Houses and his great expertise in many subjects had worked in his favor to be appointed to the Northern court (his unyielding loyalty to the Citadel also didn't hurt).
Grand Maester Rickard, as he was now known, was being escorted to the capital by a contingent of soldiers from House Hightower. It had been just over two months since the Wolf King had claimed the Iron Throne, and in those two months he had no learned counsel by his side, something that had troubled the Conclave greatly. Rickard himself had no idea of what was to await him in the capital. He had only met the Young Wolf once, and briefly. He had been one of the four Maesters sent to attend the King after Roose Bolton had stabbed him in the chest, he doubted King Robb even remembered him as he and the Hightower soldiers marched through the River Gate of the city, which had by now been rebuilt after its destruction during the Siege of King's Landing, and additionally fortified by the builders the King and Queen had commissioned. He saw the banners of House Stark hanging from the newly cleaned parapets with pride. Rickard had heard much tale of the city, of putrid smells, a dirty and angry populace, of corruption and deceit. But as he rode through the city, he did not smell the shit and piss that King's Landing was once infamous for, he smelled baking bread from the bakers, hot coals from the smiths, spices from the traders, as well as the smells of new construction coming in from the work on the ruined parts of the city.
He saw noble-looking strong men in grey cloaks that were trimmed with a stripe of white and a stripe of pale green, grey chainmail and great steel breastplates that were embossed with the crowned direwolf's sigil of the King. The new Grey Cloaks that everyone had heard so much about were a strong presence in the city, and unlike their corrupt and cruel predecessors, the Grey Cloaks were beloved by the people. The men of the City Watch assisted their citizen with all the issues they could, at the urging of Commander Smalljon Umber.
The people themselves looked happier and healthier than what Rickard had been expecting, but as he got closer to the castle, he noticed more nobles and more members of the royal household bearing expressions of deep concern. He rode past groups of highborn ladies who had their heads together in hushed conversation, raising his eyebrow in curiosity until he was finally marching through the open gates of the Red Keep. A small welcome party was waiting for Rickard in the courtyard, he only knew some of the men by their reputation such as Tyrion Lannister and Lord Varys. He did not recognize the young grim-looking man who approached him as he dismounted his palfrey.
"Grand Maester Rickard. Well met, ser. I am the King's Hand, Jon Stark." The dark-haired young man shook Rickard's hand after the Maester bowed. He had been told that the King had named a brother of his to the position of Hand, but he had not been expecting someone so…young.
"His Grace, King Robb welcomes you to the capital in his name. He wished to be here to welcome you himself…but a rather dire issue has taken his attention. One we all hope you can assist with, now that you have arrived." Jon Stark explained to the Grand Maester, who nodded understandingly.
"You will need your tools and your kit, Grand Maester." Tyrion Lannister advised of Rickard, who furrowed his brow in momentary concern before silently collecting his bag from the satchel of his horse.
"The King will be most grateful for your service, Grand Maester." Jon assured him as they left the horses and soldiers to be attended to by Leo Tyrell, the King's Steward. Tyrion, Varys, Jon and Rickard walked through the courtyard in the direction of Maegor's Holdfast along with a small retinue of Jon's guards and Tyrion's sellsword Bronn.
"It would of course be my duty and honor, my Lord Hand. What has happened?" Rickard inquired, feeling somewhat weary from his long ride, but also greatly curious as to what had befallen the Red Keep.
"The Queen has taken ill these past several days. She is bedridden, and our noble King is by her bedside stricken with worry. We have had the Maesters who are present in the capital attend to her, but none seem able to diagnose her condition. They are all camp Maesters with more experience in injuries of war than ailments and illnesses." Lord Varys explained as the small group of men walked across the drawbridge of Maegor's Holdfast. The Spider's words silenced the group for a moment as they ascended the steps of the Holdfast to approach the royal bedchambers. Two strapping men in the white-scaled armor of the Kingsguard stood vigil outside the doors. They inclined their heads to the members of the Small Council, before one of them moved to knock on the door.
"The Hand comes with the Small Council, Your Grace." Ser Raynald Westerling called through the door, receiving only a one-worded reply from the King.
"You may enter." Ser Raynald told them as he opened the doors to allow the four men into the room.
"Gods, I am not some oddity for everyone to stare at…" came a weary, gentle voice from beneath many furs on the royal four poster bed. Rickard could only see a mess of curly dark brown hair poking out from under the furs before his attention was drawn to the young man who had stood to approach him. Rickard bowed at once upon seeing the Wolf King.
"Your Grace, I am here to serve. My name is-." Rickard began to introduce himself before the Young Wolf cut him off.
"Rickard. I remember you. You were the first to tend to me in the North after Roose Bolton stabbed me. I-…I believe the Conclave made a fine choice." Robb said with a weary smile, Rickard could see that the lad was exhausted and seemingly at his wit's end.
"My lords, you may leave us." The King turned a blue-eyed gaze to the other three men to dismiss them, before returning to a chair he had dragged to the bedside of the lump hiding under the furs. It wasn't until the door shut that Queen Margaery Stark threw the furs off her body to lean over the bed and retch into a pail that Robb had put out for her. The King himself instantly rose to hold his wife's hair back and rub her back in soothing motions before looking up Rickard with clear desperation in his blue-eyed gaze.
"She's been sick for almost two weeks now." The King said as the Queen painfully groaned to lie back in her bed. Robb offered her a new wet towel to clean her face with as he looked back to Rickard.
"If I may be so bold, would you stand aside, Your Grace, so I might examine the Queen?" Rickard asked, causing Robb to glance at an irritable Margaery who merely shrugged as she laid on her side facing Robb. The worried young man rose at once to allow Rickard to approach Margaery's side. The Grand Maester's kind and warm bedside manner eased Margaery's apprehension as Rickard first introduced himself and asked Margaery a few disarming questions about herself. It wasn't until Rickard had Margaery smiling that he begin to ask her about her condition.
"So when did this start exactly?" Rickard asked of the Queen as he helped the beautiful young woman to her feet whilst the King stood behind them with his arms folded, worriedly chewing his bottom lip.
"As Robb said, Grand Maester-."
"Please, call me Rickard." The older man smiled gently as Margaery, dressed in a nightgown, eased herself to sit on a stool at the end of the bed.
"Alright," Margaery chuckled "As he said, two weeks ago. I remember it vividly for I woke in the night feeling as though winter itself had come into our chambers, despite the fact I was covered in many furs and Robb was beside me. I also needed to badly-…uh…relieve myself…" Margaery said, her cheeks tinting pink as Rickard merely smiled and gestured for her to continue as he opened his bag of supplies.
"I could not return to sleep that night due to feeling extremely ill, when morning came it proved too much and I unfortunately woke the King by retching into one of the vases…" Margaery explained, glancing to Robb with a slight chuckle as she recounted that early morning.
"It passed soon after, and I thought nothing more of it until the late afternoon when it happened again. By then I had begun to feel extremely tired, and my body ached terribly." Margaery sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she spoke. Rickard meanwhile marveled at the idiocy of the medical men who had attended the Queen before his arrival, it was obvious to him what the Queen likely suffered from and she had yet to give him true confirmation.
"My Queen…if I may ask…was this pain and aching primarily located in your-…ahem-…chest area?" Rickard asked, causing Margaery and Robb to both laugh before Margaery nodded.
"Yes, actually. Mostly my-…erm-." Margaery trailed off, gesturing her hand vaguely to her breasts, feeling slightly uncomfortable to be talking to this stranger of such intimate matters, despite the fact he was a trained Maester.
"If I may pause for a moment, Your Grace, Your Grace… I am a man of healing and I believe that now I am your Grand Maester, I will be serving you both in this intimate regard for many years to come. Please do not feel shame in speaking truthfully to me, I have seen it all as they say." Rickard chuckled, causing Margaery to sigh and nod slightly. He had a point, she could not deny, but she still did not feel instantly urged to open up to him.
"It is true, mostly my breasts have been feeling increasingly tender and painful. I feel like I've had to use the privy so often in the last week, I should be nothing but skin and bone. I thought I'd caught the plague for the first week and a half, but Robb seemed fine as did everyone else near me." Margaery said, looking from Robb back to Rickard who had a growing smile on his face.
"And you've been sleeping much more, I assume?"
"Of course, I feel-…why are you smiling?" Margaery demanded, her brow furrowing angrily. She had taken well to this man at first, but if he kept smiling at the pain she was going through the way he was, she would not hesitate to send him away.
"And has she been also having…shall we say volatile mood swings? Sad one moment, laughing or furious the next?" Rickard asked, turning to Robb whose eyes widened in confusion as he slowly nodded back. Rickard chuckled before rising from where he was kneeling before the Queen.
"Your Grace, I believe I know what ails you. But I need only confirm two more things, would you rise for me?" Rickard smiled, offering Margaery his hand. The Queen still looked irritated by his smile, but rose out of curiosity, accepting his hand to stand.
"I am just going to place my hands upon your abdomen for a moment." Rickard told Margaery, who nodded her consent before the man gently assessed her belly. With a grin, he pulled back to ask her one last question.
"And my Queen, if I may ask, when was the last time you bled?" Rickard's question caused Robb to whip his head up as Margaery too dropped her jaw.
"I-…I-…what?" Margaery Stark looked utterly dumbfounded as the realization that she had not had her moon's blood in over two months sank in. "I…I don't-…what does-…what?!" Margaery, an intelligent and sharp-tongued young woman could only mumble nonsensically whilst her husband remained frozen, staring at Margaery with wide eyes and his arms folded, his face unreadable.
"My King, my Queen…it is my honor to tell you that you are carrying children." Rickard beamed, standing back to clasp his hands in front of him. He had been worried that his first act in King's Landing would have been diagnosing the Queen with a horrid illness, instead his first act had been to announce new life. It was a beautiful for moment for him, complemented by his amusement at the young royal couple's reactions.
"Chi-..child-…what?" Margaery asked with a little shake of her head, as though she could not understand what the Grand Maester was saying.
"You are pregnant, Your Grace." Rickard repeated with a small incline of his head, before turning up to Robb who was still staring at the spot where Margaery had been.
"Robb…" the Queen said cautiously as she approached her husband, placing a hand on her husband's folded arms, causing him to snap back to reality and look down into her golden brown eyes with his own vivid blue.
"Are you-…is this-…does this make you happy?" she asked quietly, causing the usually stoic and reserved Robb of the House Stark to break into a joyful gale of laughter as he embraced his wife passionately. Margaery herself laughed as Robb all but lifted her off her feet before kissing him gently. She could not yet comprehend that she was…pregnant. She knew that she and Robb wanted children, they needed an heir after all. But…so soon? And-…hold on…
"Hold on." Margaery said, bringing pause to their celebration, turning to look from her husband to the Grand Maester.
"You said children. Don't you mean child?" Margaery inquired, trying not to gulp as her heart rate accelerated slightly.
"No. I meant children," Rickard smile "From the way you're carrying at this early stage, my Queen, it appears to be twins."
Robb Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, an undefeated warrior and hardened man of war had his eyes roll to the back of his head as he crumpled to the ground in shock. His wife merely started to laugh in a slightly hysterical fashion.
Author's Note: Yay! So, something short and sweet for Robb and Margaery and introducing the new Grand Maester :)
Also I know that I probably wasn't medically accurate with this, but I also didn't quite understand how a Maester could determine if Walda Bolton was carrying a boy in the show, so I may have taken some liberties with pregnancy diagnosis in Westeros for the sake of the story. But hey, if a dragon can be born and ice-zombies walk the land, why can't the Maesters be able to tell if you're carrying twins? Also apologies if I inaccurately depicted the symptoms of pregnancy, I have had no first-hand knowledge on the matter.
Please do leave a review! I love reading them, its like fuel for the words to come to me :D