Chapter Three: Margaery
As she left the King in the North's tent, Margaery did her best to keep a level head and a passive face. She began strolling leisurely back to her tent, just a short walk away. It worked, of course, as no one looked at her strangely or whispered whilst looking at her. Lady Olenna would be proud; her grandmother had drilled it into her that courtesy was a woman's armor and a blank face was the ultimate form of denial.
But there was no denying to yourself.
When Renly had initially been married to her, she thought herself the luckiest maiden in the Seven Kingdoms. Renly Baratheon was a fantasy come alive; his sweet words, kind disposition, handsome face, long jet-black mane, and most of all, his gorgeous blue-green eyes that seemed to differ from day to day. Their wedding day was a splendid affair, the kind she had dreamed about since she was a young girl. It was the happiest day of her life…until her new husband spent their wedding night with her brother.
It was a paper marriage, nothing more, and Renly now had the numbers to take King's Landing, which would make her the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not just of the Stormlands and the Reach. Still, from time to time, she could not help her feelings and would wish that Renly would be interested in her, would love her. Her stroll had taken her to Renly's tent, and she stepped inside, as Lady Brienne, who was standing ever dutiful outside the pavilion, bowed to her as she passed.
She entered Renly's tent that he had no doubt been sharing with Loras until moments ago. But Margaery did not mind, even as he attempted to spare her feelings by claiming he was too drunk with wine to perform properly.
"You look very beautiful, Your Grace. That's a lovely gown," Renly said, subtly trying to divert her attention.
"You think so?" Margaery asked. "I can't decide how I like it better…this way…or this way." Margaery had undone her corset and bared her breasts for her royal husband to see.
"You certainly don't need it," Renly said, but there was no true love in his voice as Margaery leaned in to kiss him. "But some say… the beauty most desired…is the beauty concealed."
Margaery held her hand to his lips and surged forward again. Tonight will be the night. She had fondled with his cock through his breeches but was dismayed to feel nothing. No arousal, no stir, nothing.
"Must be the wine," Renly said apologetically.
Margaery was undeterred. Even if he did love her brother, his duty as a king and as a husband was sire a child with her. A prince for the Seven Kingdoms. "Allow me," she said softly. She began to unlace his breeches with her hands as she kissed him over and over. Yes, tonight will be the night.
But when Margaery had looked up at her husband's face, he looked like he was going to be sick. It was clearly taking all of his resolve not to run away or throw up. At last, Margaery gave up and stepped slightly back.
Renly suppressed a shudder. "I'm sorry."
Margaery watched him sadly. "Do you want my brother to come in and help?" Why would you say such a thing, he is still your king, your husband, you are mocking him!
Renly whirled around in shock. "What?"
"Oh, he could get you started, I know he wouldn't mind. Or I could turn over and you can pretend I'm him?" Margaery said innocently.
Grandmother would be proud. The Queen of Thorns always spoke her mind, and Margaery was starting to get weary of playing around. She did not mind that Renly loved Loras, but he still had a duty to her, to the realm. It fell to her to remind him of that.
But Renly, like most men, played dumb when exposed. "I don't know what you're talking about." And he had sat down on the featherbed.
Margaery straightened herself. "There's no need for us to play games. Save your lies for court, you are going to need a lot of them," she said seriously, sounding more like an advisor than a wife. She sat down next to Renly and grasped his left hand with her right.
"Your enemies aren't happy about us. They want to tear us apart. And the best way to stop them is to put your baby in my belly." Margaery said it so pragmatically, so obviously, that if another were to overhear them, they would assume Margaery was talking about battle strategy. "We'll try again later," she continued. "You decide how you want to do it: with me, with me and Loras, however else you like."
Margaery gently pulled Renly's face to look directly at her own. "Whatever you need to do. You are a king."
And with that, Margaery quietly got dressed and headed off to her own tent. She put on her nightgown and slipped under the sheets but lay awake for some time after. The situation she had found herself in seemed hopeless. A king who loved her brother more than he would ever love her. He may care for her, but at sixteen, she was doomed to a life of eventual unhappiness. Right now she might be okay with it now, but she wondered if she were to wake up in a year, or ten, or fifty and still be okay with it.
Margaery did not remember falling asleep or dreaming, but the next thing she knew, Renly was in her tent at mid-morning.
"Rise, my queen. I trust you slept well." So, I suppose we are just going to pretend last night never happened.
"Fine, my king. I am rather famished. Perhaps some bacon or some fruit. I cannot decide what I want."
"I shall have the cooks send over whatever it is your stomach desires." My belly desires your prince. "Yes, my king, that will be fine. But enough on me. You are going to take back your home today. Storm's End will once again be yours, truly, once you have defeated your brother, the false claimant."
Renly smiled. "I hope my brother sees sense. He's a military man, a battle commander. Surely, he knows the side with the larger number most often wins. And when the larger number is three, perhaps four times the smaller, they always win, do they not?"
"Of course they do, my king."
Renly glanced at the wardrobe in the corner of the tent. "My lady, it is my wish that you accompany me to the parley today."
That caught her by surprise. "Why, my king? It was my understanding that war is more so a man's job. What place would a woman have at a parley?"
Renly smirked. "Stannis is bringing his wife and that fire priestess we keep hearing about. I suppose if I had so few men willing to fight and declare for me that I would attempt to bolster my numbers with women too. If you come, it will show Stannis that I am everything he has and more."
Margaery smiled. "It would be my honor, my king."
"Good. And, um, about last night…"
"You have nothing to apologize for, Your Grace. You weren't ready. We'll try again when you are."
"When? Not…if?" Renly seemed utterly unconvinced that he would ever be ready to give her a child, but Margaery knew her duty. If Renly was to take the crown, he would need to have an heir. A strong family. The words of House Tyrell were 'Growing Strong'. Their marriage needed to grow stronger with a child.
"You will be ready to take me, Renly. One day. When you are ready, we shall have a child."
But Renly looked away, embarrassed. Margaery was about to speak again when Renly turned back to her. "I had a thought, my lady. Your brother makes me happy. Perhaps you can be happy as well with someone else."
Margaery was shocked. "I am the queen. You are the only man I desire."
"Why not? Kings and queens take other lovers all the time. Robert had a different whore every night of the year. And we all know that Cersei preferred her twin brother to the king. Why should you be denied that same pleasure?"
"I am not Cersei Lannister. My place as queen is by the side of the king."
Renly suddenly got a sly look on his face. "If you prefer to be by the side of a king, why not take pleasure with Robb Stark, the King in the North?"
Suddenly all those thoughts that Margaery had been trying so hard for the past week to push down in her head came roaring back up to the surface.
When word had reached their camp that Robb Stark, Eddard Stark's eldest son, had amassed a host of 20,000 Northerners and was racing for Riverrun, Margaery had envisioned a stoic barbarian with a dangerous wolf for a mount racing for doom at the hands of the more experienced Tywin Lannister. Then they had received reports that the Starks had actually lifted the siege of Riverrun and Robb himself had captured Jaime Lannister. Then, barely two weeks before his arrival at Bitterbridge, Renly had received word that Robb Stark had been named King in the North following his father's execution.
She hadn't known what to think when Robb had sent word that he was coming to treat with Renly and form an alliance. Her lord father, Mace Tyrell, had fought on the side of House Targaryen during the rebellion. He did so more out of loyalty to the crown prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, than the Iron Throne, but she remembered how he used to tell her about Lord Eddard Stark, the quiet wolf-man who had come to relieve Storm's End's siege. The man with a frozen heart and a head only for justice. She tried to imagine what his son would be like. She had braced herself for the wolf-boy and his cold, barbarian demeanor. What she got was indeed a warrior, but also a boy of her age with a quiet disposition and a warm heart. Some of the other women Margaery had tea with back in Highgarden used to gossip that the Northerners were all belligerent brutes with no mind for anything but fighting.
Robb Stark had a mind for warfare, but he was also kind and gentle. His wolf, the one that had killed many Lannisters in the field and probably had a hand (or paw) in capturing the Kingslayer, was absolutely adorable. Robb had mentioned that Grey Wind liked the smell of her; that might have been the perfume she wore, the essence of lavender that Renly had gifted her. Or perhaps her natural scent was appealing to the direwolf. But more so than that, she felt happier when she was with Robb Stark than she had ever been with Renly Baratheon. He made her laugh and made her feel like all of his attention was on her whenever they spoke, rather than an attempt to divide between her and her brother. And when she had stirred, felt something for him and was certain he felt the same, he had backed off, twice, rather than dishonor her marriage. When she had found out that he was betrothed to another girl, she had felt a slight pang of jealousy stirring in her chest.
But there was no way she was going to say such things to Renly.
"No, my king. I only have desires for you," insisted Margaery. "I find pleasure only in your company. When you take King's Landing, I will bear your royal children and usher in a true Baratheon dynasty that will last a thousand years."
Renly gave her a quizzical look, but smiled nonetheless. "As you wish, my sweet. Forgive me, I was only thinking of your happiness. Will you dine with me and mine lords, or do you prefer to eat alone today?"
"I would eat with you, my king. They are my lords as much as they are yours."
When Margaery stepped into the banquet pavilion, she saw her father, Lord Mace Tyrell, the Hand of the King, breaking his fast with Renly, Lord Paxter Redwyne, Lady Arwyn Oakheart, and a few others. There was an open place to sit next to…Robb Stark. The Young Wolf was barely eating, and likewise his wolf at his feet ate little. Next to Robb, a knight who had come south with him with talking to him animatedly, but Robb seemed distracted. As Margaery quietly sat down, she caught the tail end of the conversation.
"Lord Karstark wishes to move on the Westerlands, Your Grace. He awaits your return so they may plunder Lord Tywin's strength. Lord Bolton is amassing a host to move on Harrenhal, all you must do is give him the word."
"I would wait to lead the vanguard on these attacks myself, Ser Wendel."
"Of course, Your Grace. But we must press eventually. How long before Lord Tywin attacks Riverrun to rescue the Kingslayer? This is no fight of ours, Your Grace."
Margaery was about to open her mouth when Robb stood suddenly. "I thank you for your counsel, Ser Wendel. But we are late to leave for the parley. Send word to the Blackfish that I shall return to Riverrun, alliance or no, within the fortnight."
Robb strode from the pavilion and Grey Wind, who had stirred at Margaery's arrival and licked her hand affectionately, followed. Even now, when the other lords and knights had grown slightly more accustomed to Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind running would usually send one lord or two into panic. Today was no exception, for when Grey Wind had raced after Robb, the generally stoic Lord Randyll Tarly had jumped, causing Renly, her father, and few of the other lords to laugh.
After breakfast, Renly donned his armor and readied his horse. Margaery did the same, as she rode side by side with Renly to the gates of his childhood home, Storm's End. She could smell the salt on the wind, which was blowing fiercely today. I wonder if being home will give him cause to give me a child?
Upon seeing the great castle properly for the first time, Margaery thought the castle had been improperly named. There was a storm brewing, not ending, at the castle gates. The reason was not hard to see, for standing at the gates were Robb Stark and Grey Wind under the grey direwolf banner of House Stark; Renly's castellan of Storm's End, Ser Cortnay Penrose; and facing them was none other than Lord Stannis Baratheon, having a chilly discussion with the King of the North. Neither of them had noticed Renly's arrival.
"I had not thought to find you in the Stormlands, Lord Stark, least of all at my own castle." The blunt, cool words of Stannis were exactly what Loras and Renly had forewarned her of. The man had no humor, no love, only a rigid sense of duty and justice. He saw the world and everyone in it in black and white, the good and the bad. Margaery thought about Robb Stark and his father; they were driven by honor, justice, and duty as well, but the wolves could find it in themselves to be forgiving and friendly at times. The Lord of Dragonstone clearly could not.
Robb had held up a hand to Ser Wendel, clearly stopping him from correcting Stannis on his title. "I had not thought to be here, Lord Stannis."
"I am sorry for your father's death. Lord Eddard was an honorable man, even though I bore him no love. A false charge of treason was an insult to him and those who truly knew him. When I take King's Landing, I shall give you justice for your father's murder. If your sisters are found within the capital, I shall send them to you." Courtesies do not come easy to Lord Stannis.
"Forgive me, Lord Stannis, but why are you here? Dragonstone lies closer to King's Landing than it does to Storm's End?"
"I see that your father's tact was passed onto you. Very well, to take King's Landing and my rightful throne, I need the support of the storm lords. My brother Renly has them; I need them. That is why I am here. But why are you here, Lord Stark? Have you pledged the North to my brother? Have you forsaken your father's memory?" Now he has gone too far, thought Margaery. Indeed, Robb's face was twisting in anger, but Stannis wasn't done yet.
"Your father named me Robert's heir, convinced me that the signs I had seen in the queen's children were correct. Your father supported my claim, yet here you are, sitting beside a pretender, lecturing me on warfare strategy when you've done naught but capture the Kingslayer."
"I am the King of the North, Lord Stannis." Robb's tone was carefully checked. It seemed to have been taking all of his willpower not to chastise Stannis for his insults. "I do not bend the knee to either of you. I am simply offering a hand of friendship to all who will help me defend my home, rescue my sisters, get justice for my father."
"If you fashion yourself a king, let me offer you some advice," Stannis said flatly. "Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
Renly, who had been watching quietly with curiosity, moved his horse forward. "And brothers!" he called cheerfully. Renly moved past Stannis and moved to stand next to Robb, who was still staring daggers at Stannis. Margaery moved her horse past Stannis as well, and fell into line beside him, standing across from Stannis' lady wife Selyse Florent. Loras, Brienne, and the lords who Renly had brought did the same.
"Lord Renly," Stannis greeted coolly.
"King Renly, actually. Can that truly be you?"
"Who else might it be?" frowned Stannis.
"When I saw your standard, I couldn't be sure. Whose banner is that?"
"Mine own," answered Stannis.
"I suppose if we used the same one the battle would be terribly confusing. Why's your stag on fire?" questioned Renly with ease.
Margaery looked up in surprise. She hadn't thought to look at Stannis' banners, but of course they would be different from Renly's. Furthermore, Renly was correct; Stannis' banners were gold, but the black stag of Baratheon was indeed enclosed in a red heart and seemed to be in flame. Suddenly, a woman garbed in red rode a single pace forward.
"The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light."
"Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about," mused Renly. "Mmm, brother. Now I understand why you've found religion in your old age."
"Watch yourself Renly," snapped Stannis. Margaery could see out of the corner of her eyes that Robb, Loras, Brienne and the other lords were suppressing laughs.
"No, no, I'm relieved. I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes. But not a godly man," quipped Renly. He does this with such grace. He will be an excellent king.
The Red Woman spoke up again. "You should kneel before your brother. He is the lord's chosen, born amidst salt and smoke."
"Born amidst salt and smoke," repeated Renly. "Is he a ham?" More laughs were trying to be suppressed, this time on both sides. The man to Stannis' right covered his mouth and gave a cough, most likely to cover a laugh. Well, it is rather funny.
"That's twice now I've warned you," harrumphed Stannis.
"You know, my lady mother would lock me and my brothers in our bedchambers if we behaved like this until we remembered that we were in fact brothers," interrupted Robb. "We all share a common enemy: the Lannisters. They thrive on our divisions."
"The Iron Throne is mine by right. All those that deny that are my foes!" Stannis said it with such emphasis, Margaery knew in that moment that he would never yield to Renly.
Stannis looked directly at Robb again. "Your lord father knew the Iron Throne was mine. His last act was to offer it to me. Did he not teach you how to kneel before your betters, Lord Stark? The North is one of my Seven Kingdoms. Kneel before me, usurper, or I shall destroy you."
Suddenly, Grey Wind, who had been quiet until this point, bared his teeth and growled very loudly at Stannis. Margaery was pleased to see that Stannis and his entourage were suddenly rather nervous, all except the Red Woman, who eyed the direwolf with interest. Robb leaned down from his horse and patted Grey Wind's head. "Easy. Lord Stannis was simply making a request."
Renly cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. He looked at Stannis with a mixture of amusement and pity. "The whole realm denies it, from Dorne to the Wall. Old men deny it with their death rattle and unborn children deny it from their mother's wombs." Margaery realized that Renly was at last speaking seriously. "No one wants you for their king."
"I came to treat with you on the idea that you would come to your senses and remember your place as the younger brother. Speak, or I shall leave," snapped Stannis.
"Very well," Renly shrugged, an ambiance of ease setting over him again. "Dismount your horse, strike your banners, bend your knee, and swear me your allegiance."
"Never."
"And why not? You served Robert, why not me?"
"Robert was my elder brother. You are the younger brother. As well as a thief and a usurper."
"The Targaryens called Robert 'Usurper'. He got over it. I'm sure I will too." Renly nudged his horse forward again and Stannis mirrored him. "You never wanted any friends brother. But a man without friends is man without power. My friend Robb Stark here has been fighting the Lannisters and defeated them time and time again. Soon, I will take the field and give the Lannisters the pleasure."
Stannis scowled. "For the sake of our mother, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners, come to me before dawn, and I will grant you your old seat on the council back. I'll even name you my heir, until a son is born to me." The Lord of Dragonstone said this last bit with a sideways glance at his wife. Standing directly across from her, Margaery could tell that this was a touchy subject by the way her large ears reddened. "Otherwise I shall destroy you."
Renly looked squarely at his brother. "Look across those fields, brother. Do you see all those banners?"
"You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?"
"No. The men holding those banners will make me king." Renly raised his hand to his mouth…and bit into a peach. "Would you like one, Stannis? From Highgarden. You'll never taste anything so sweet; I promise."
"I did not come here to taste fruit!" fumed Stannis. "Storm's End, the storm lords, the Iron Throne, they are all mine. You have no right to take them."
"Suppose you, Jon Arryn, and Eddard Stark are wrong about Joffrey. That would mean you also have no right."
"We are not wrong in that regard. I had my suspicions before I departed the capital. Jon Arryn was close to uncovering the truth, and then that damnable Lannister woman had him poisoned before he could tell Robert."
"I thought he died of old age," said Renly.
"No, he did not. Soon after, Eddard Stark comes to be the Hand after Robert passed me over, and he too is killed. But his final act was to inform me of Cersei and the Kingslayer's incestuous bastards who sit my throne," said Stannis impatiently.
Robb leaned forward. "My mother took the Imp captive and brought him to the Eyrie. She accused him of the murder of Jon Arryn, she said."
Renly waved it off. "The Imp is crafty, all Lannisters are crafty. The point is, your host will either desert you for me or be destroyed in total. You don't have a chance."
"We shall see, Renly. Come the dawn, we shall see." And with that Stannis and his host galloped away. The Red Woman alone lingered. "Look to your sins, Lord Renly. For the night is dark and full of terrors." Then she too followed Stannis.
"Would you believe I loved him once," growled Renly, dropping his smile as he watched Stannis gallop away. Then he turned to the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose. "I trust you to keep the castle and the boy, ser."
"Don't worry, Your Grace. Stannis will never have either. I will die before I hand him over to that woman." Ser Cortnay whirled about and headed inside the gates, while Renly, Robb, Margaery, and the rest of their retinue galloped back to their camp.
Loras rode alongside Renly, so Margaery found herself riding next to Robb. The Young Wolf looked weary, but his bright blue eyes were alert as ever. "Who's the boy Renly's guarding inside Storm's End?" he asked.
"Edric Storm. One of Robert's bastards with a Florent girl he bedded the night of Stannis and Selyse' wedding," replied Margaery softly.
"Why is Renly so insistent on guarding him from Stannis?" whispered Robb, just as softly.
Margaery glanced back at the retreating parley. "The Red Woman. It's rumored she makes sacrifices, especially ones with royal blood." There weren't many things that scared Margaery, but the Red Woman was definitely one of them.
Robb seemed to understand and said no more. Margaery thought back to the conversation she had overheard him having with Ser Wendel at breakfast. She found herself wishing that he did not have to go, but it was selfish. He had come for an alliance, no more than that. He had his own kingdom to fight for, his own betrothed to eventually marry. But still, talking with Robb was far more enjoyable than the sycophants and flatterers that often swarmed her, hoping to get on the good side of her and her husband.
Margaery pushed the thoughts out of her head and instead thought about the parley and Stannis' words. She had known, of course, that Stannis, Jon Arryn, and Eddard Stark believed that Joffrey and his siblings were bastards born of incest between Cersei and Jaime Lannister. When Stannis' letter had arrived, Renly had had a good laugh and showed it to his lords present. She could definitely see where the idea might come from. According to Renly, Edric Storm, Robert's bastard, was a boy with jet-black hair, bright blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw, just as Robert, Stannis, and Renly had. Joffrey was known to have golden hair and emerald eyes, like his mother, his uncle, and his grandfather. So did his siblings. It makes sense if you know what to look for, she thought.
When they returned to the camp, the sun was fast setting. It seemed impossible that the parley had lasted longer than twenty minutes, but it had been hours. Renly summoned all his lords, his Kingsguard, and Robb to his tent. They all emerged an hour later, chattering amiably and boasting of how Stannis would fall by each of their hands.
Only Robb looked rather unhappy as he exited. Margaery knew why. He had come to forge an alliance to help his own people, not fight a war between the Baratheon brothers. She walked up to him just as Ser Wendel hurried away.
"Your Grace, you look troubled."
It was Robb who had spoken first, and Margaery was surprised that he, who was clearly tired and troubled, was asking about her.
"I am fine, Your Grace. I was just thinking about how thankful I will be tomorrow when this battle is over, and we can once again turn our attention to the capital. But why are you so unhappy?"
"Your husband does not give me leave to return to Riverrun. He wishes me to join him in the battle. But my bannermen are awaiting me, they will not be patient much longer. Tywin Lannister is still at Harrenhal, I must draw him into the west, I must rescue my sisters, I must…" Robb sagged. "Forgive me, I pray I have not kept you from your duties. I think I might get some sleep. He will have another council in a few hours, no doubt planning to strike before the dawn."
Margaery took his arm. "Sleep would do you much good. Might I walk you?" And without waiting for a response she started walking with him back to his tent. By then night had fallen, and the fires were the only source of light. But the camp still buzzed with activity.
"The battle will not be a long one. Renly would have our forces see Stark and Baratheon fighting together as one. Besides, there is no beast fiercer than Grey Wind. I wouldn't be surprised if he kills Stannis himself."
Robb smiled at her, but it quickly faded, and he returned to his thoughts. Margaery could see the turmoil that was raging within, the pressure and responsibilities that were aging the Young Wolf faster and faster until he would look well beyond his years. So young to be this old. He's my age, and yet he seems so much older. She wondered if she would look like that once she officially became queen.
They arrived at Robb's tent and Margaery escorted him inside. There were no candles lit, so the tent was pitch black. The only source of light were the eyes of Grey Wind, who had stirred at his master's arrival. Margaery guided him over to the bed, and they sat down. The tired Young Wolf still wore his armor. Perhaps that is just as well. Soon battle will come, no sense in taking it off just to put back on in a few hours.
In the dark, Robb's features were difficult to make out, but Margaery could tell that he had turned to her when he spoke. "Thank you, my lady. Your gratitude is appreciated, and I thank you for helping me. I wish I could return the favor."
Margaery shook her head. "Your thanks are not necessary. You may return the favor by surviving the battle that approaches on the morrow and defeating the Lannisters."
"I can promise that, my lady."
"I thought I told you to call me Margaery, Your Grace?"
"And I told you to call me Robb, did I not, Your Grace?" Both of them laughed at that, and then fell silent.
The entity in her chest stirred again, though this time it roared. Without thinking, Margaery leaned forward, and to her pleasant surprise, Robb had done the same. Their lips met in a warm, tender kiss. For just a moment, everything was right with the world. Tywin Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, Cersei, and Joffrey all seemed like insignificant specks in the world. They were all that mattered.
Then, just as suddenly as it happened, both Robb and Margaery broke away. Without a word to each other, Robb fell back on the featherbed, giving a very convincing snore. Margaery hurried from his tent, slowing her pace to a steady walk as she strolled back to her pavilion.
But Margaery did not realize that she had been observed the entire time by the one man she ought not to have been so careless around. Had Margaery turned around during her walk back, she would have seen the dark eyes of Littlefinger boring into her.
Disclaimer: No, I am not George R.R. Martin. If I were, I might be trying to finish my books in such a way that doesn't make everyone hate it.
Favorite, follow, and review and all that. Cheers.