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Chapter 51


"Sansa! We meet finally," Margaery Tyrell spoke. They had exchanged a peck on the cheek when Robb had introduced them, but this was the first time when she was formally meeting her soon to be good sister. "It is a pleasure to meet you my lady," Sansa greeted nervously, still unsure on what to call her.

"Nice meeting you," Arya said from beside her in a huffy tone, tugging at her dress which the Septa had forced her to wear. After watching her practicing swords with Meera and Mona, Sansa found Arya's silk gown quite ludicrous. Arya was half glaring at her brother's betrothed. Clearly, she was having a hard time processing that her big brother will soon be someone else's.

"Won't you both call me Margaery," she replied kindly, and took hold of Sansa's hand. "Come now. We three will be sisters soon. We have a lot to talk about. Let's take a walk in the Godswood."

The godswood of Riverrun was beautiful. Tall oak and maple trees grew on both sides of the path they were walking on, which was further lined with flowerbeds. Birds were chirping from above, carrying food to their nests built atop the trees. Sansa looked around, mesmerized by the beautiful scenery. The godswood of Winterfell was not beautiful like this, thought it had its own kind of beauty.

"This is lovely," Sansa remarked, "we don't have anything like this up North."

Sansa noticed Margaery's smile falter a bit. "Why" There is a godswood in Winterfell isn't there?"

"Yes there is," Arya replied, "but we only worship the old gods there. I don't like this Godswood. It doesn't even have a heart tree."

Margaery chuckled heartily,making Sansa smile a bit. She liked her soon to be good sister. She looked like a proper lady, and from what she had seen so far, she had a good heart. She would make a good wife for Robb. "Come now. It has started to get dark. We should have tea."

Together they started walking out. "Have you chosen a dress yet," Margaery asked, "the wedding is tomorrow only."

"Oh yes," Sansa replied enthusiastically, "I have a beautiful silk gown with the Tully colors since I am staying at Riverrun. I also have a sapphire necklace and bracelet to bring out my eyes."

"Lovely," Margaery chirped, "you don't need any jewel to bring out your eyes though. They come out on their own whenever you smile."

"You are very kind Lady Margaery," Sansa said.

I am only telling the truth. What about you Arya? Have you selected your attire?"

"Yes," Arya replied in not so interested way, making Sansa flustered. "My sword tutor had a Bravosi dress made for me."

"You have a sword tutor," Margaery asked, looking scandalized.

"Yes," Arya proclaimed proudly. "Father hired her for me, but now she is a permanent part of our household. Father even talked of making her the master of armst."

"I never knew that women are allowed to carry weapons in the North."

"That is not true Margaery," Sansa said, "have you met Lady Dacey Mormont? She is a fierce fighter, and is very skilled with the mace."

Margaery nodded, appearing slightly distracted now. "The North seems to be an interesting place. Anyways, tell me about this dress of yours Arya."

"Well," Arya said, "you can see it for yourself tomorrow. Will you two excuse me? I have to go talk to Robb." Arya ran away, leaving the two ladies behind.

"She is a piece of work isn't she," Margaery said once Arya was safely away.

"Yes she is different," Sansa replied, "she even named her wolf Nymeria. But she is nice, and is great with a sword." They had reached Margaery's chamber, where she gestured Sansa to sit in front of the tea table. Sansa took a cup for herself and took a sip, thinking on how to continue the conversation. "How are you feeling about getting married?"

Margaery's former smile returned. "It is wonderful. Robb is a great person, and I am sure he will be a wonderful husband. I can't wait to be married to him."

"Yes Robb is very honorable," Sansa replied, unsure of what to say next to the Southern lady.

"Speaking of marriages," Margaery asked mischievously, her eyes twinkling, "has your father approached any handsome young lord for your marriage yet?"

Sansa felt her cheeks heating up. "I..don't know. Nothing has happened since my broken betrothal with Joffrey. Besides, father is busy with him being king and everything."

"A daughter's wedding is not generally a father's concern," Margaery said sympathetically, and her eyes spoke the unspoken. "I will broach this subject with Robb as soon as I can."

"Thanks that's not necessary," Sansa felt compelled to speak.

"Oh it's no trouble," replied Margaery, "after all, that's what sisters are for."

Sansa spoke after thinking, "your brother Ser Loras, he seems very handsome and gallant. Is it at all possible that…"

Lady Margaery cut in, "there are many other lords in Westeros Sansa," she said, "who are far more handsome than dear Loras. Forget about him. From what I know, he is not likely to take a wife."

Sansa was not sure what she meant, but decided not to think about it. She wanted to befriend this lady,

"And besides, you are smart lady Sansa; not some damsel in distress. You don't need someone pretty and stupidly charming like Loras. You need a decent man; a truly decent man."


The Sept was decorated with flowers, and the men had also put a fake heart tree to highlight the Northern blood of the Young Wolf. A lot has happened with me in this sept, Ned reflected. He had wed Cat in here, and was carried off to his wedding night by the ladies of Riverrun. This sept was where Catelyn had presented him with a squalling red faced Robb. That was the happiest moment in his life, even with the recent loss of his sister, brother and father weighing down on him.

And here I am again, in the same sept. Where his son, the same squalling baby Cat had presented him with all those, was being wed.

The ceremony was to begin at any moment, and the people had started pouring in. He watched his children walking arm in arm. Sansa, looking radiant as ever, a splitting image of her mother; Arya wearing her new dress, looking like a Dornish princess, and Rickon. He had grown since he had seen him last time in Winterfell, and his hair were even more unruly.

Bran couldn't have come. It would have been too tedious for him. And besides, wedding are not very important. It is the marriage that counts.

"You all look wonderful," he complimented them."Take a seat." One of his men escorted them to the front seat as he watched. "King Eddard," he heard from behind, and turned to find the matriarch of Highgarden walking with her throng of women. Ned walked forward, and kissed the old lady's hand.

"Run along you all," she shooed away the women behind, "find yourselves proper seats. Me and Alerie will sit with the king."

Ned didn't find a reason for refusing, and accepted the invitation. He did not like Lady Olenna. The way she looked at people, it seemed as though she knew something about them that only she was privy to. Ned had never liked such people.

They seated themselves on the front row. "How is King Mace Tyrell," he asked the younger Lady Tyrell, the mother of Margaery.

"He couldn't make it here in time. He will reach tomorrow. He is very busy," she replied.

"Oh yes," Olenna said loudly, "Sitting at Highgarden away from all the excitement really takes a lot from him."

"Mother," Aleire chided. Before Lady Olenna could reply, clapping sounded from behind as Robb made his entry with his friends SmallJon Umber and Dacey Mormont. The SmallJon had taken Theon's place for Robb, while Dacey, as Ned perceived, was the smart one in their little group. Robb spent most of his recent times with Margaery, but had always come to SmallJon and Dacey when it had come to camaraderie.


Robb took his place beside the septon of Riverrun, and waited for his bride to be.

"Good luck," Jon said to Robb as they stood waiting for Margaery on the platform in front of everyone.

"Aye," Dacey quipped, "you will need it Robb."

"Don't make me more nervous than I already am," Robb snapped in hushed voice. "Now go away you two. I have to marry someone up here."

The two descended, and Robb instantly regretted his decision of sending them away. He stood there with the old septon, fidgeting as he sweated underneath his handsome new clothes.

He noticed his siblings in the front row. Arya winked at him mischievously, while Sansa was smiling encouragingly. Rickon was busy drinking the juice being served to the guests, along with wine for those of age. Robb instantly thought of Bran, and wished he was there too.

People started clearing out of the entrance, and Robb knew that was it. He looked towards the gate with strained eyes.

And then she came, arm in arm with her brother Garlan. Has there ever been a woman fairer than her. Margaery looked beautiful, a goddess walking down the aisle. She has worn her hair differently, and that dress. Her wedding gown was the purest silk, with gems embedded in it. It did not have sleeves, which exposed her fair arms and shoulder, adding to her grace and beauty. Robb clenched his jaw tight, for Dacey had warned her of how goofy men looked when their jaws are hanging.

It took like an eternity for him to realize that he was standing in his own wedding. He cleared his throat. "Who comes before the god?"

Her brother replied. "Margaery of House Tyrell, daughter of Highgarden, comes here to be wed. A maiden grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"I do," proclaimed. "Robb of House Stark, Son of King Eddard Stark and the Crown Prince of the North. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Garlan of House Tyrell, the Lord of Brightwater Keep, who is her trueborn brother." He turned to her. "Sister, will you have this man?"

Margaery was looking at Robb. "I will take this man."

The septon asked Margaery to approach. Garlan kissed her forehead, and left to take a seat. Robb walked forward, and escorted her by taking her hand. They stood each other. "Repeat after me," the septon said, and both Robb and Margaery said the words which would bind them forever.

"Father, mother, warrior, smith, maiden, crone, stranger. I am hers, and she is mine;from this day, until my last day."

Robb removed Margaery's green and golden cloak, and wrapped her with a cloak of his own, grey and white with a direwolf emblazoned on it.


The feast had begun. Wine was flowing, and men and women were busy eating the best food they could think of. Singers were busy playing songs and songs of love and worship and chivalry alike. Ned was sitting with Lady Olenna again, much to his dismay.

"Did you like the ceremony your grace," Lady Olenna asked. "I know you have it differently in North. I hear the first night is still practiced by some lords up there."

Ned turned his gaze towards the woman. "No such tradition runs in my kingdom. My father had caught many who still had it, and they were given proper justice. Since then, no one practices it."

"Of course they don't," Lady Olenna replied in a way that made Ned's blood boil. Yet he smiled. He was in the South, and such behavior was expected of people. "But still the ceremony is different up there."

"Yes they are," Ned replied, "the bride and groom stand before a heart tree instead of a septon; and they say the words without the name of the gods included. Our old gods don't have name."

"Yes yes, the old gods have no names but one," she replied, "the old gods." She chuckled with delight, and the stern Lady Aleire also allowed herself a smile.

"Now speaking of weddings," she continued uninterrupted, "I see that you have been ignoring some issues that should have have come to your notice."

"And what are those issues my lady," Ned asked.

"Why my king, your own issues," she pointed towards Sansa, who was laughing at something said by her friends. "That lovely lady, who happens to be your daughter, needs a husband."

"Sansa is a child," Ned said. "It is not time yet."

"Sansa is 14, while Margaery is 16 and being wed. I am not saying to marry her right away. But she should have been betrothed long ago. I know I know," she continued as he tried to speak, "you were busy. Your son was busy. Your good uncle and your brother was busy. Your wife was lost to the war. That was the biggest loss I think. A daughter's marriage is mainly the mother's concern. But the poor girl doesn't have a mother. Come now my king, look for a suitable boy for your girl, before all the good ones are taken."

By the time she had finished, Ned's mind was buzzing with thoughts. Lady Olenna had the right of it. It was almost time for Sansa. "You have spoken wisdom my lady."

"A family trait if you don't mind your grace."

"Aye. It is time for Sansa. I will speak to her once the time in right."

"Come now my king. For a beauty like the Princess, the time is always right. For instance, I have a grandson who is still unwed."

I was wondering how long she will take to get to this. Willas Tyrell was unwed, and for a reason. He was a cripple, and had trouble walking.

"Your grandson is too old for my daughter. I am sure there will be other matches."

"Of course there will be," Olenna said, "but who would be more worthy of the fair Northern princess than the Crown Prince of Highgarden." She paused, and squinted her eyes. "You are not planning to give her to the Martells are you?"

"As I said, I have not thought about it. Oberyn Martell is with me, but House martell still remains neutral like House Arryn."

"Formally yes," she said, "but the Viper has brought half the Dornish forces with him. The half forces remain with his cripple brother. For me, or any sane person, that is an alliance."

Ned allowed himself a chuckle. "Say what you will my lady. Say what you will. For now, let's enjoy the feast."

"Not so swift my king," she cut in. "I am not finished. With you permission, can I approach a more delicate issue."

Can anyone stop you woman. "Go ahead my lady."

"There is also another person who should think of taking a consort."

"And who would that be?"

"You my king," she replied, and Ned spluttered while coming with a retort. "Lady Catelyn, blessed be her memory, has been dead for more than an year. I think it is time for you too my king. You are not that old that remarrying would seem funny, like that nasty Frey. You should take another wife."

"I advise you to never broach this subject again," Ned cut in between, "for you won't get any audience. Lady Catelyn would remain my first and last wife."

"Ah. Love and oaths, is that what you are all about King Stark. Think of your last day, when you will regret of not having sleeping with a woman beside you for more than fifty years."

"Beg your pardon my lady, but my life is none of your concern. Let's eat properly before this food gets cold."

They ate for a while, filling their stomachs with delicacies. "No no," she shooed away the server offering honeyed ham. "I won't eat that thing. I am old, and too much hard work in the privy would wear me down."

Ned put down his fork and knife. "If you excuse me my ladies." He said, and walked away swiftly. Nearly everyone had finished, when someone shouted "time for the bedding." Ned glanced at the high table where his son and good daughter were sitting with their siblings. Margaery had gone deep red, while Robb had a stern look on his face.

The SmallJon was walking towards with the volunteering young men and women. Ned noticed Dacey Mormont scowling at him from afar. "There won't be any bedding ceremony," Robb shouted, his hands clenched into fists.

"Come now prince, where is your love for traditions," one of the female Tyrell cousins shouted, and giggled, followed by laughter from around. "My friends, take care of my cousin there. Her gown doesn't have that much cloth. It will come off easily. We will look after the prince. Let's see what the Young wolf is made of underneath." It was clear from the voice of the 'bedders' that they were all very drunk.

Robb stood up, making the table in front of him wobble a bit. His anger was evident from his fce, making the drunk revelers very nervous all of a sudden. "I said no bedding. And mind your tongue. We both are your leige, and anymore japes on my wedding will not be tolerated." Robb was also drunk, but thankfully had not lost his virtue.

Ned watched Arya and Sansa looking at their brother with eyes of worship, while Margaery was gazing blankly at the air in front of her.

"Come love," Robb said to his wife; making Ned's heart burst with pride. He watched Robb take her hand, and walk out of the chamber.


They walked together to their chamber in silence. "I am sorry about that," Robb said as he filled two cups with wine, and handed one to Margaery.

"Thank you Robb," Margaery replied softly, smiling courteously. "I had always felt sympathetic towards the ladies who suffered this humiliation. Thanks for sparing me that."

"Actually I am also thankful that I had the courage to refuse them." He smiled and walked towards her. "I couldn't bear the thought of your cousins seeing me in my smallclothes."

That earned him a giggle from Margaery. For a while no one spoke, and all the two newlyweds could do was stare at each other. "You must know about this," Margaery spoke awkwardly. "Why don't you start?"

"Actually I don't," Robb replied, "being the son of the honorable Eddard Stark, things are expected of me." Robb had added the last part as a joke, which Margaery took with the same sentiment. She laughed again, looking even more beautiful. Robb smiled widely as he watched her. He liked it when she laughed, it was infectious, and Robb had felt himself being drawn to it every time. He closed the space between them, and placed his lips on hers.

She responded too, and a moment later they were kissing. He put his hands on her back, but soon they both found their hands roaming around each other's body, as they deepened their kiss.

They broke apart, breatheless. Robb watched as Margaery opened her eyes, and smirked. "You do seem to know your way Young wolf," she teased.

"Why how much do you know," Robb asked.

"Not much to be true," she replied, "but I do have my cousins. We do know.. some things, based on real life experiences."

Robb's heart was swelling. She lowered the straps of her gown, which fell down sliding off her body. Underneath she was wearing a cotton shift. Robb too came out of his clothes.

"Not bad Robb," she said as she looked him, over. "Not bad at all."

"To bed," he whispered.

Margaery laid down, gesturing Robb to follow. Robb followed earnestly, and got in bed; and then both proceeded towards their wedding night.


See you soon. Take care.

TheSwordInTheDarkness310