Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, read and alerted my story! I'm going through a bit of a writer's block (UGH) and this chapter resisted me every step of the way, with every scene, conversation and description. I tried waiting a few weeks to see if any new ideas came to me, but they didn't. I hope that you guys understand. If you have any advice or suggestions on how to get through this, feel free to share them with me! Hopefully I'm just being too hard on myself.

Chapter 18: Seeds of Doubt

Today is my one year wedding anniversary, was Maliya's first thought when she rolled over after yet another night of fitful sleep. As soon as the thought registered in her mind, a somber, solemn blanket enveloped her, one that she could not seem to shake.

She should not be here, so many leagues away from her husband, about to negotiate with a potential enemy during the middle of a war. They should be home at Winterfell with not a care in the world. She could almost picture that simple, care-free life. They would be tangled in the bedsheets, having a picnic in the glass gardens or enjoying the peace of the godswood. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon would all be there of course, growing up under the loving, watchful eyes of Lord and Lady Stark. No family was perfect, of course, but this vision in her head was as near perfect as she was like to get.

Except that if things were as they should be, she would have been a Targaryen Princess and it was entirely possible that she would never have even met Robb. Nothing was more confusing than the realization that she could not have had it both ways, that she now didn't know if she would pick her true family or her new one.

A year, she thought again, a picture of her husband's handsome face appearing in her mind's eye. Despite everything that her and Robb had been through and against all odds, they had made it a year. When she thought about the person that she had been a year ago, she couldn't even recognize herself.

Her hatred for the Lannisters and the Starks had burned bright along with the resentment towards her father, her new husband and her strong desire to return home. And now… now she loved that husband and his family more than she would have thought possible. Even though her hatred for the Lannisters was stronger than ever, she was fighting alongside the Starks and his men. So much can change in a year, she thought as she wearily climbed out of bed. If we survive this war, where will we be next year?

She missed Robb, she was mad at Robb, she loved Robb and resented Robb. She had hoped that some distance between them would help things, but truthfully it only served to confuse her all the more.

Maliya chose a dark gray, long sleeve dress for this morning, pairing it with her bronze crown. They were drawing close to Bitterbridge, where it was rumored that King Renly and his army were camped. She wanted them to respect her as both a Stark and the Queen in the North. She knew she would have to leave her sword with Shadow, but she had both of Nymeria's gifts, one strapped to her thigh and the other hidden in her boot.

Maliya exited her tent and made her way to over to the small campfire. Ser Wendel Manderly, a man both tall and large with a giant mustache, was sitting and stringing his bow while another man who she believed was called Shadd was stirring something in a pot. Both men stood as she approached and bowed. "I've made some porridge, if it please you, Your Grace," Shadd murmured, holding out a bowl.

"You are most kind," Maliya answered, accepting the bowl with a smile before heading over to where Lady Stark was seated with her own bowl of porridge. "Good morning, my lady," she greeted, sitting next to her good mother. "How did you sleep?"

"Well enough," Lady Stark answered, though Maliya suspected that wasn't entirely true. Lady Stark looked more weary than Maliya had ever seen her. Although she held herself as a lady should, her face was pale and she was more withdrawn than usual, understandably so. She had just lost her husband and her family was split across Westeros. "Ser Wendel has informed me that we should reach the upper Mander today. King Renly won't be too far beyond that."

Maliya nodded in response before focusing on breaking her fast, conscious of the ears always listening to their conversation. Robb had sent twenty of his best men to accompany them, all good, loyal men, but they were always close by.

A silence fell over the both of them, leaving Maliya to wonder if it was only awkward for her. The Lady of Winterfell seemed preoccupied by her thoughts and Maliya was at a loss for words. Truthfully, she had never really felt comfortable around her good mother, not like she had been with Lord Stark. Maybe it was because of the silent judgement Maliya had felt from her when they had first met, or maybe it was because of their disagreement over Jon. Either way, Maliya was never entirely at ease.

She waited until Ser Wendel and Shadd joined the others in deconstructing their camp before speaking again. "What is Renly Baratheon like?" She asked in a curious voice, wanting to know what they were walking in to.

"As I told Robb, it has been many years since I've seen him." Lady Stark stared down at her now empty bowl as if she was confused how it came to be that way. "But as a boy, he was always laughing and running through the halls. Even at that age he was more charismatic than either of his brothers."

"Do you think that he will agree to Robb's terms?" Maliya pressed, her porridge forgotten. "Robb is using him for his army and will ally with him if he acknowledges the North as an independent state. Even so, Stannis is the rightful king and Robb knows it."

Lady Stark sighed. "I cannot say what Renly will or won't do, but we must do our best to negotiate an alliance with him. Come," she said, putting her bowl aside and standing. "It is time we were away."

Their belongings were packed and their horses resaddled within the hour and it only took half a day before their scouts rode back informing them that a group of men were approaching. The men were mounted and clad in their mail. The knight closest to them, the one with a bluejay on his surcoat, nudged his horse forward. "Greetings, my lady." His eyes flickered to Maliya's crown and he frowned before grudgingly adding, "…Your Grace. I am Ser Colen of Greenpools. These are dangerous lands that you cross." Unfortuantely, he spoke the truth. Though they had attempted to stay far away from towns, they still came across bands of armed men. Maliya had tensed each time, her hand drifting toward her sword but the men never attacked them.

"We have important business to discuss," Lady Stark answered, her shoulders straightened and her voice clear and strong. "We come as an envoy to Robb Stark, the King in the North, to treat with Renly Baratheon, the King in the South."

Ser Colen didn't even bat an eye. "King Renly is the crowned King of all the Seven Kingdoms," he pointed out, much to Maliya's displeasure. It didn't seem to be a good sign for this so called alliance. It was apparent that the man had only called her 'Your Grace' as a sign of resigned respect, not because he believed her to be a queen. "But I would be honored to escort you both to meet with the King." Before Maliya or Lady Stark could answer, Ser Colen gestured to his men and formed two flanks on either side of their group. Lady Stark shot Maliya a quick look as she opened her mouth to speak, and subtly shook her head.

So Maliya swallowed her words for the time being and stayed silent as they began their march towards Renly Baratheon's camp. It took them nearly another hour to reach it, but once it came into view, the sheer enormity of it was overwhelming. The sounds reached her first, the normal sounds of an army's camp, just magnified tenfold. She heard men shouting, steel crashing, horses neighing. Her eyes flickered around to see siege engines lined up, tebuchets and rolling rams on wheels. Thousands of men milled about between thousands of tents and thousands of campfires.

Banners fluttered high in the wind. The golden rose of Highgarden, a fox and flowers, a striding huntsman, oak leaves, cranes, a cloud of black and orange butterflies, nightingales, sea turtles, and dozens more. She wasn't quite sure how many men had answered Stannis Baratheon's call, but it seemed that most of the South had flocked to Renly.

Ser Wendel rode up next to them, a frown visible on his large face. "Do you hear that?" He asked in a hushed voice.

Maliya tilted her head to the side, listening until she heard a dull roar above the sounds of the rest of the camp. "Is that…..?" She trailed off, certain that something was wrong with her ears, because there was no way that she was hearing this correctly.

"Cheering," Lady Stark confirmed in a grim voice. Sure enough, when they reached the top of the hill, they could see what appeared to be a melee in progress below the small castle. Hundreds of men were gathered in a circle, shouting, cursing and drinking ale. Two armored soldiers were fighting in the middle of the circle, of which the ground was torn and littered with bits of armor and lances. Ser Colen mentioned something about going to introduce them to the King and pushed his way through the crowd. Maliya's wide, disbelieving eyes, drifted to the opposite end of the circle where two figures were seated upon a raised, makeshift throne.

It was a shock to Maliya's system when she laid her eyes upon Renly Baratheon. He was a younger version of his brother Robert, a vision of what he must have looked like before he grew fat. Strong and fit with an easy smile, Renly Baratheon cut a handsome, confident figure with that golden crown of antlers and roses upon his head. Next to him must be Margaery Tyrell, his new wife. She was a beautiful, delicate looking young woman, with large, brown doe eyes and soft brown hair. "Loras!" She shouted, cheering the Young Knight of Flowers on. "Highgarden!"

Maliya leaned closer to Lady Stark, speaking loud enough in her good mother's ear so that she would be heard. "Please tell me that this is some sort of deranged dream," Maliya shouted, her brown eyes dark and stormy. "Please tell me that an army of one hundred thousand men isn't really camped here, drinking and participating in tournaments and mock fights."

"Would that I could." Maliya couldn't hear the words muttered under Lady Stark's breath, but she could read her lips and interpret the grim expression on her face well enough. Most of her attention was focused on the two men fighting in the center, both clad head to toe in armor. One apparently was Loras Tyrell, whose skill with a blade was well known throughout Westeros. She wasn't sure who the other fighter was, but at the moment she found she didn't care. Her eyes were on the fight, but her mind was trying to grapple with her sudden rage and frustration.

These men were laughing, drinking and shouting while the men in her husband's army were fighting for their lives, surrounded by death, losing limbs and losing their lives. What game did this pretend King think he was playing? Why was he allowed to wait off to the side while the Stark army did all the work and killed all the Lannister soldiers?

Muttering spread through the crowd and Maliya refocused, realizing that the shouting had diminished and the fight had ended. The winner, Maliya realized with shock, was what looked to be a woman, the tallest woman that Maliya had ever seen. Her shoulders were broad, and short, straw colored hair clung to her head once she knelt and her helm was removed.

Maliya tilted her head to the side as she examined the woman who she gathered was Brienne of Tarth, or as the men in the crowd mockingly called her, 'Brienne the Beauty.' She watched, detached, as King Renly admitted her into his Rainbow Guard at her request, though she felt slightly indignant at the obvious disdain everyone seemed to have for her. She wasn't a good-looking woman by any means; her nose looked like it had been broken more than once, her mouth was wide and flat and when she beamed at her King, she saw that her teeth were crooked. Yet she was a woman and a good fighter so Maliya couldn't help but understand what she has had to deal with.

Ser Colen swung down off his horse once Brienne of Tarth was adorned with a Rainbow Cloak. "Your Grace!" He called, bending down to one knee. "I have the honor to bring you Lady Catelyn Stark, an envoy sent by her son Robb, Lord of Winterfell and his wife – "

"Lord of Winterfell, and King in the North," Lady Stark interrupted pointedly, dismounting off her horse and moving to stand beside Ser Colen. "I have the pleasure to introduce you to my good daughter, Maliya of House Martell and Queen in the North." Lady Stark looked back at her and Maliya took this as her cue. She handed Shadow's reins to Ser Wendel and slid from her saddle, picking up her skirts to avoid the mud as she made her way across the circle.

"Well met, Queen Maliya," King Renly greeted, watching her carefully through impassive eyes, which she noticed were a deeper blue than Robb's. "Lady Catelyn, I am pleased to see you again," he welcomed, his voice lighter as his eyes focused on her. "May I introduce my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell?"

"You are both very welcome here," Margaery smiled, her voice soft and somehow angelic sounding. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

Maliya hid a grimace at the words, noting the sudden tension in Lady Stark's shoulders. While the words were conveyed with a sadness and warmth, Margaery Tyrell had likely never met Lord Stark and therefore, her words were empty. "You are most kind," Lady Stark answered automatically.

King Renly raised his voice for all to hear. "My lady, I swear to you I will see the Lannisters answer for your husband's murder. When I take King's Landing, I'll being you Joffrey's head."

"It will be enough to know that jutice was done," Lady Stark responded, inclining her head.

"Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?" A heated voice demanded. Maliya's eyes flashed at both the tone and the question as her head snapped around to see the Knight of Flowers standing behind them, an arrogant expression on his face.

"Why do you ask?" Maliya questioned, her voice as sharp as one of Obara's whips. "Are you waiting to see the outcome of the battle before you decide to actually join the war?"

A furious expression crossed his face but Lady Stark spoke before he could, throwing her a warning glance. "I apologize for my good-daughter, it has been a long and tiresome journey."

The pretty Knight of Flowers, however, wasn't ready to let his anger go. "If Robb Stark," he continued, spitting his name disrespectfully. "Wants to make a pact with us, he shouldn't have sent his wife and his mother, he should have come himself."

Maliya's barely controlled temper flared to life once more and she found herself struggling to resist the urge to break his nose on his too perfect face. Before she could even entertain the idea any further, it was Lady Stark who spoke, her face calm but her voice strained with anger and exasperation. "My son is fighting a war, not playing at one."

Maliya's gaze flickered to King Renly at the slight, but he smiled at her after a moment. "Don't worry, my lady," he assured her, standing and offering a hand to his young wife as they decended the steps and stopped in front of them. "Our war is just beginning." He looked between the two of them. "Come, I will lead you both to your tents."

The soldiers around them bowed as their small group walked off. Lady Brienne fell into step behind King Renly and Lady Stark, leaving Maliya and Queen Margaery to bring up the rear. Maliya started in surprise, looking over at the other queen when she slipped her arm through hers, her innocent, doe-like eyes shining with happiness. "I cannot tell you how nice it is going to be to have another woman stay with us," she chatted, a bright smile on her face. "I have my brother here, of course, and Renly, but camping with an army can get quite lonely, can't it?" Maliya made some vague noise of acknowledgement, but it didn't seem to deter the younger girl. "Do you know what they call your husband? The Young Wolf. They say that he has the ability to turn into a wolf, that he eats the flesh of those that he kills."

Maliya couldn't hold back her tinkering laugh. "And who is this 'they' of which you speak?" She questioned, her voice light. "Do they also believe in snarks, grumpkins and unicorns? I can assure you, Your Grace, that my husband does not turn into a wolf and howl at the moon."

Queen Margaery shook her head, waving her other hand dismissively. "Please, call me Margaery, I insist. We are both queens, and the use of our proper titles seems both silly and confusing." Maliya nodded in response and blinked at the beaming smile Margaery sent her. The girl seemed friendly, open and innocent and Maliya felt her senses sharpen and her distrust grow. They stopped in front of two identical tents and Margaery let go of her arm. "You must promise me that you'll stop by my tent sometime soon and have a cup of tea with me."

"I should like nothing more," Maliya lied, plastering a smile on her face, still trying to puzzle out if this girl was as innocent as she appeared or if the entire act was fake.

Lady Stark thanked their hosts for their generosity, waiting until they were out of sight before putting a hand on Maliya's back and gently pushing her into one of the tents. Frowning, Maliya pulled away from her, glancing at her over her shoulder in confusion. "My lady, what - ?"

"Are you trying to get us imprisoned or killed?" Lady Stark hissed, blue eyes flashing.

Maliya gaped at her, hurt and confusion spreading through her. "Of course not! Why would you – "

"You had best learn to control that temper of yours, Maliya," she warned, shaking her head, and Maliya knew her well enough to know that she was on the verge of a lecture. The older woman paced in front of her in agitation, throwing her a disappointed glare every once in a while. "We are in the middle of a potential enemy's camp, surrounded by one hundred thousand of his men and you think that is the appropriate time to challenge him?"

Maliya crossed her arms, her shock fading as the heat of her anger spread through her body again. "That pretend King out there sits on his arse, watching tournaments, while our people are fighting in the battles! And that insolent little prick thinks he can insult Robb and question his decisions? I will not let him get away with that."

Lady Stark took a deep breath, stopping to stand in front of Maliya and placing her hands on her shoulders, bending slightly to catch her gaze. "We are guests here, Maliya, treated so because of the power our names hold. However, if you continue to insult Renly Baratheon, he could very easily take us prisoner and use us as a bargaining tool against Robb. You need to keep your defenses up and you need to be smart about what you say and how you say it." She sighed and stepped back. "Honestly, I had expected a Princess of Dorne to know better than to behave as you just did."

"I do!" Maliya insisted, realizing the dangerous position that her temper had put her in and feeling ashamed all the more for it. "I do know better," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor and her voice lowering. "It's just… I don't think as clearly about anything pertaining to Robb."

"I apologize for being harsh with you, Maliya, I've let the pressure of our mission get to me." Lady Stark smiled a soft smile, reaching a hand out to place on Maliya's cheek. "My son is lucky to have you in his life. But right now he does not need his wife to defend him, he needs his queen to help him lead. Do you think you can help me with this?"

Maliya nodded determinedly, trying to chase away her embarrassment while berating herself at the same time. She had been trained as a princess, her father had personally tutored her in how to control her facial expressions so she wouldn't betray what she was thinking! And then she fell in love with Robb and suddenly it seemed that she couldn't think straight with matters that pertained to him. It was a serious problem and it was something that she was going to have to work on – as unexpected as it was, she was a queen now and most of the time, that came first. "I apologize, my lady, I promise it won't happen again. Lady – Queen Margaery has invited me to her tent for tea, maybe her husband shares his plans with her and she'll let something slip."

Lady Stark looked thoughtful. "It's a good idea, just make sure the girl doesn't draw suspicion from your questions. It will have to wait, however, Renly has told me there's to be a feast tonight. But the sooner as we accomplish our goal, the sooner we can get back to Robb."

Robb slowly walked amongst his men, threading his way between the tents. He clapped a shoulder here, murmured an encouraging word there, trying to show his face and lend his support. A strange feeling spread through him, bringing with it a sad realization once he realized what it was.

He was lonely. He was surrounded by thousands of men, his own men in his own army, and he was lonely. Maliya and his mother were south with Renly Baratheon, Theon was dealing with his father on Pyke and even Grey Wind was away at the moment. He had disappeared into the woods yesterday to hunt, and was usually gone for a full day before he came trotting back, content. Usually he was back by now, but Robb wasn't too worried; he knew Grey Wind could take care of himself.

He's probably still by that stream in the valley, came the unbidden thought. He frowned, his stride faltering as his stupid dream from last night surfaced to the front of his mind, yet again. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, flashes of the dream kept coming back. The strength in his legs as he ran, the sights and scents of the forest and the taste of the meat as his teeth clenched around his preys throat. It was just a dream, you idiot, Robb scolded himself furiously. You were thinking about Grey before you fell asleep, which was why you dreamt about him. You do not actually know where he was or what he was doing.

Forcibly shoving the matter from his mind, Robb put a smile on his face as he stopped to talk to a passing soldier who was walking by on crutches. He tried to focus on the conversation he was having but he was too easily distracted. Something caught his eye over the man's shoulder and Robb frowned. "I'm sorry, will you excuse me?" Robb asked quickly, interrupting the man mid-sentence and then walking away before he could respond.

Robb forgot the man as soon as he was out of sight. A deep frown had crossed his face, his heart leaping in his chest. His eyes were glued to the woman with the long black hair walking ahead of him, not paying attention to where he was going. He bumped shoulders with people, he tripped over a spare shield lying on the ground and nearly impaled himself on a sword but he didn't care. What in the seven hells is she doing here? He thought, a strange mixture of anger, frustration and relief washing through him. Did she somehow sneak past my mother and twenty guards to make her way back here? He mentally paused, acknowledging that it was probably exactly something she would do.

He called her name as he caught up to her, eyebrows narrowing when she ignored him. "Maliya!" He growled in irritation, reaching a hand out to grab her elbow and spinning her around. "Why aren't you answering – " He froze in astonishment, blinking stupidly down at a face that was most certainly not his wife's. Now that he was aware of his mistake, he could see the differences. While they both had black hair and brown eyes, and they were both the same height, her hair had none of Maliya's natural curl, her eyes didn't have Maliya's twinkle for life, her face was longer and her dress was plain. She didn't quite have Maliya's delicate, exotic beauty. "I am so sorry," Robb apologized profusely, yanking his hand back immediately, horror in his eyes. "I thought – I thought you were – "

"Your wife the queen?" The woman asked, quirking an eyebrow. Robb took another comfortable step back; even her accent was wrong. "I'm flattered, Your Grace."

"Yes, well, that was still highly inappropriate and I have to apologize again," Robb responded, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know why I mistook you for her, I know that she's not here."

"You miss her," she replied simply, shrugging. "Even though you know she isn't here, you saw what you wanted to see."

Robb knew she was right. Maliya's absence was a terrible ache in his chest, as if she had taken his heart with her when she left. He missed the way she curled against him when she slept. He missed the way she looked at him the way she looked at no one else – with those warm brown eyes and that expression that made him feel as if he could do anything. He missed her counsel and their late night conversations. He missed her lips and what she could do with them. He missed her more than when he left from Winterfell and he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake in sending her away.

"What's your name?" Robb asked, trying to focus.

"Talisa," she replied, smiling softly when he made an expectant expression. "Talisa Maegyr."

He frowned, not recognizing her family name. "Where are you from, Talisa?"

"Volantis." She paused as someone at one of the medical tents called her name. "Excuse me, Your Grace, I have to help pack up the supplies. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Talisa," he murmured as she smiled at him once more before walking away from him.

Fingers laced together, back straight, Maliya stopped in front of the guard standing in front of Margaery Tyrell's tent. "Good evening," Maliya greeted with a polite smile. "I believe Her Grace is expecting me?" The guard gave her a solemn nod before pulling the tent flap aside so she could enter.

Maliya did so, each and every one of her defenses raised. She ran through all of her father's lessons once she received Margaery's invitation, determined to try and get as much information as possible without alerting the other girl to her intentions. There was one thing that was glaringly obvious to anyone who lived in that camp. Margaery and Renly didn't share a tent, and Maliya couldn't figure out why. She had spent the past few days quietly digging around the camp, listening to the men talk, who seemed to gossip just as much as the northern army. She didn't know if it was true, but the men sniggered and joked that Margaery was still a virgin.

"Maliya!" Margaery cried enthusiastically, gracefully rising from her chair and grabbing her hands with a warm smile. "You don't mind that I call you that, do you?" She asked, her smile fading and a sudden worried look crossing her face. "I know I asked you to just call me Margaery – "

"It's perfectly fine, I assure you," Maliya interrupted, matching her warm tone and reassuring smile. Margaery returned her smile, releasing her hands and gesturing to the small table where a pot of tea and two cups were waiting. Maliya looked around the tent, taking in the opulent finery of the tent, the expensive carpet, the large bed with its silk curtains. It seemed a little excessive in her opinion, and it must be a terrible pain to set up and take down each time that they moved. "Your tent is lovely," Maliya complimented in a light voice as she took a seat and crossed her ankles. "And so clean! You're lucky. Robb is always leaving his boots in the middle of the floor or his armor is all over the place when he's not wearing it."

Margaery sighed, giving her a knowing look and a slightly disappointed smile. "You don't have to pretend with me, Maliya, you've been here for several days now. I'm sure you're well aware that Renly and I have separate tents."

Acknowledging the fact with a nod of her head, Maliya had to grudgingly give her a small amount of respect for calling her out instead of pretending otherwise. She put down her tea cup gently, leaning forward with an earnest expression on her face. "I do hope you'll forgive me, Margaery, I just couldn't contain my curiosity." She feigned a chagrined look. "My father always said it would get me into trouble."

Margaery reached over and patted her hand reassuringly. "It's alright, I understand! Renly and I do not exactly have the most conventional marriage, to be sure. Then again, I never quite imagined getting married in the middle of a war," she laughed prettily, brushing her hair over her shoulder. Maliya couldn't help but notice how she neatly sidestepped the reasoning behind the separate tents. "Truth be told, I hope this war ends soon. Can you imagine raising a child by yourself while your husband is off fighting in battle after battle?"

This was not exactly where Maliya pictured this conversation going, and she desperately hoped that her smile didn't appear as forced as it felt. "I imagine it would be quite difficult."

Margaery didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "I know women have been dealing with this issue for centuries, most with more than one child." She shook her head with wonderment and sighed. "As queens it will be doubly important for us to learn, since we will be raising the future princes and princesses of Westeros."

Maliya took another sip of tea, though she would have much preferred a cup of Dornish Red at the moment. "You and Renly have talked about having children already?" Haven't they been married for all of five minutes?

"Yes, of course!" Margaery exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised. "Every king needs an heir to prove the legitimacy of his claim to the throne, especially in times such as these." She paused, looking at Maliya over her tea cup. "How long have you and your husband been married?"

Maliya was impressed all over again. She honestly couldn't decipher if Margaery was just politely curious or if her question was part of a deeper, alterior motive. She was willing to bet it was the latter.

They stared at each other for a moment, the Queen in the North versus a Queen in the South, both of them acknowledging this meeting for what it was: a chance to learn what they could about the other – motives, information, strengths and weaknesses. A part of her wished that they could drop the façade and speak openly, but Maliya knew that this wasn't how this little dance worked. They would test each other, pushing and prodding until one of them let something slip, delivering compliments and insults alike with a smile.

"Robb and I have been married for a year now," Maliya answered, subtley straightening her shoulders.

Margaery's expression fell into one of sympathetic concern. "A year? How are you handling it? I would be a terrible wreck, you must be so strong."

Maliya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How am I handling my marriage? I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning, I love my husband – " She broke off, realization dawning in her eyes, as a strange, uncomfortable feeling swooped through her stomach. "You aren't talking about my marriage. You're talking about the fact that I haven't produced an heir yet."

Margaery looked at her, hesitating for a moment before deciding to say what was on her mind. "I know it takes some women longer to conceive than others… but a year? Aren't you at all worried about possible complications? Don't you want a child of your own? What if – what if you can't – "

Maliya forced herself to smile despite the fact that the other queen was basically insulting her role as a woman and a wife. "Robb and I will conceive a child when the gods grant us with that gift," she told her, knowing that this response is hardly one that could be argued with. "I know that the reason I don't have a child isn't because my husband doesn't love me or desire me, and for now that's all the matters." Something flashed across Margaery's face, but it was gone before she could decipher what it was. "I wouldn't worry so much about my marriage, especially when we could be focusing on the reason that Lady Stark and I are here in the first place."

"Ah yes," Margaery nodded, picking up her tea cup again and taking another sip. "Because you want to form an alliance with us."

Maliya leaned forward, her eyes bright. "If we joined forces, the Lannisters wouldn't stand a chance against us. We would easily be able to defeat their army and we could overtake King's Landing."

"And what would happen when we do win?" Margaery asked, leaning back with a raised eyebrow. "There would be two kings and two queens – how would we decide who gets the throne?"

"That's simple enough," Maliya shrugged. "Neither Robb nor I have any desire to sit on the Iron Throne. If we win the war, we only ask a few things in return. The Riverlands must be protected and treated fairly, and then we will return home to the North, which will be completely independent from the rest of Westeros. You and Renly will remain king and queen of the south and our relationship will be as equal allies."

Margaery's face was carefully blank. "So he will be Renly of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm? You would have us rule a broken kingdom?"

"Robb did not claim himself to be King when his father died," Maliya murmured softly, with her head tilted to the side, knowing that this was exactly what Renly did. "His own men crowned him the King in the North and it's for them and his family that he's fighting this war in the first place. If Renly and Robb ally in order to win this war, then yes, I would have you rule over six kingdoms instead of seven. Tell me, why would we fight for northern independence, win the war and then allow ourselves to be put back under the thumb of the south again?"

"You bring up some fair points, Maliya, and I can understand where you and your husband are coming from. Ultimately, however, the decision to ally with the north lies with the king. It will be Renly that you need to convince, not me."

"Did it seem like Queen Margaery would be on our side?" Lady Stark asked when Maliya visited her tent later that night. "From what I've been able to gather, Renly was able to crown himself king due to the support of Highgarden. Margaery Tyrell could prove to be incredibly influential if she would support our cause."

Maliya sat, suddenly exhausted, though her mind refused to stop spinning. "I'm not so sure she would," Maliya admitted in a low voice. "She said that she understand where we were coming from, not that she would help us in any way. She didn't seem entirely pleased with the fact that the north wants to keep their independence. In fact, her exact words were, "You would have us rule a broken kingdom?'"

"From what I gathered, Renly is of the same mind," Lady Stark sighed, crossing her arms. "He's entirely too focused on losing the north."

Lady Stark continued speaking, but Maliya couldn't focus on her voice. She thought that she had gone into that meeting prepared, but in the end she felt as if she were on the defensive for most of the conversation. Margaery's words were bouncing around inside her head, bringing with it a seedling of doubt that seemed to take root for the first time. Every king needs an heir… Don't you want a child of your own? That same feeling went through her stomach at the thought. "Maliya?" She blinked, refocusing to see Lady Stark who was now sitting next to her, a hand on her arm and a look of concern on her face. "Is everything alright?"

Maliya hesitated, struggling with the need to hide any weaknesses and her sudden insecurities and doubts. "Lady Stark, have you…" She trailed off, before taking a deep breath and plowing ahead. "Have you thought it… odd that I haven't become pregnant yet? Margaery mentioned something about possible compilcations and asked whether I was worried." Why do you care? Maliya asked herself in confused bewilderment as she watched Lady Stark's expression soften. Not having children is your choice. What do you care what other people think? Maliya looked up into the her good-mother's face and saw Robb's eyes looking down at her. ...because maybe for the first time, you're realizing the effect this has on him, a tiny voice said in the back of her mind.

"If I'm being completely honest, I have thought about it a few times," Lady Stark admitted in a cautious voice.

"Then why haven't you said anything before?" She asked, puzzled.

"You and Robb didn't seem that concerned. It's a delicate subject, Maliya, and conceiving a child isn't an exact science, it differs from woman to woman. If you don't mind me asking, do you know if your mother had any trouble conceiving or suffered any miscarriages? Sometimes these complications can be passed down from mother to daughter." Maliya shook her head, knowing she was talking about Mallario. "What about your aunt?" Lady Stark suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening. "It was known throughout Westeros that Princess Elia had trouble recovering from the births of her two children. I wonder if she had trouble conceiving…" She muttered to herself, frowning.

Lady Stark saw the startled, stricken look on Maliya's face at the mention of her real mother and misinterpreted it. "Oh, my dear, I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it. Both you and Robb have been under incredible amounts of stress these past couple of months and that can have an effect on these things." She paused, surveying Maliya through those all knowing blue eyes. "Do you want children, Maliya?" She asked gently.

"Of course!" Maliya answered immediately, spouting the answer that all of Westeros would expect to hear. "It is my duty as a woman and a wife to give my husband a son – "

Lady Stark gave her a small smile. "I didn't ask why you had to have children, I asked whether you wanted them." Maliya looked down at her hands at her words, suddenly feeling very young and unsure. Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision and bringing a wave of homesickness with it. She missed her father and her uncle, Arianne, Trystane and all her Sand Snake cousins. Lady Stark put her hand on her arm again, drawing her attention. "I know I'm not your mother, but you've been my good-daughter for a year now and I do consider you part of the family. I'm here to talk if you ever need to." To say Maliya was astonished would be an understatement. She must look pretty miserable if her good mother was attempting to be close to her for the first time since she married her son. Lady Stark chuckled at the expression on her face. "Well, don't look so surprised! I've been… a pretty absent mother to my children these past couple months. Robb loves you and I can see that you love him too. And you helped look after Bran and Rickon when I was away."

Maliya fidgeted slightly, looking down at her hands before taking a deep breath. "My mother left when I was very young, shortly after my brother Quentyn was sent away to be fostered with the Yronwoods. The only female influences I had in my life were my older sister and my cousins and none of them ever married or had babies of their own. I never really had any interest in having children and I'm not sure what kind of mother I would be, but with Robb… he would be such an amazing father."

"Yes," Lady Stark murmured, her expression softening at the mention of her eldest child. "Robb has really grown this past year, not that he was given much of a choice," she added under her breath. "He would be an incredible father."

"It's just, with everything that's going on – "

Lady Stark shook her head quickly. "No, no, don't you do that Maliya, don't you be afraid to live your life just because we're in the middle of the war," she told Maliya fiercely, her blue eyes a mixture of determination and sadness. "Nothing is certain in our lives anymore and if you pull back or hesitate, you could miss out on something incredible and by then it could be too late."

Maliya didn't have to ask what she meant by that. She could see the agony of losing her husband written all over her face. "Thank you, Lady Stark," Maliya whispered, reaching for the older woman's hand.

"I think, dear girl, that it's about time you start calling me Catelyn," Lady Stark grinned, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are family, after all."

Robb,

Coming home to Pyke didn't exactly go as I had planned. It's been hard to remember what my father was like during these nine years away from home, but I never expected his reaction when he saw me. It was as if he was angry his only son and heir had finally returned home, and to make matters worse, it appears he's raised my sister up in my place. He's rejected your offer and says he will pay the iron price for his crown.

You need to send men north as soon as possible. My father knows most of the men went south with you and he's planning an attack.

He's questioning where my loyalties lie, Robb, and I fear that he's right. I'm finding myself torn between you and him and I don't know what I'm going to do -

Theon abruptly stopped writing with a frustrated noise, slamming the quill on the table and ripping the parchment into tiny pieces, hating how much he sounded like a whiny cunt. Grabbing a new piece of parchment, he wrote:

Robb,

I hope this reaches you in time. My father has rejected the offer and plans to attack the north, raiding the shores and taking Deepwood Motte. Mobilize your army and make for the north before it's too late. I'll write again when I can.

Theon

He nodded once in approval after reading it over again and went to go seal it when he was hit with another moment of doubt and uncertainty. Ever since he had come home, he felt as if he were being torn in two directions. On the one hand, he knew he should warn Robb of what his father was planning, he knew that his plan put Robb's little brothers at risk. He swore an oath to Robb on the night he was crowned King, and he did view Robb as a sort of brother.

But then he thought back to the look of absolute digust on his father's face when he saw him for the first time. He mocked his clothes, which he didn't pay the iron price for and all but accused him of going against the Greyjoy name. He remembered that incident with that thrice damned sister of his and how she had taken his rightful place by his fathers side while he got stuck with eight measly ships. He was ordered to do reaver's work with his uncle to oversee his progress and Dagmer Cleftjaw was sent to basically nominalize his command. And then Theon was furious all over again. It wasn't his fault that he had been taken as a hostage all those years ago! It wasn't his fault that he had to abandon the Ironborn ways so that he could survive all those years in the North! And it certainly wasn't his fault that his father thought his allegiance lay with the Starks.

His mind had flip flopped constantly since returning home. One day he was determined to warn Robb of the impending attack and the other he vowed to stay silent. Now that the time had come to make a final decision, Theon knew what he must do. With a dark expression on his face, he picked up his latest letter and held it above the candle flame, watching as the parchment caught fire.

I'll prove to them that I haven't forgotten what it means to be Ironborn. I'll show my father and that bitch sister of mine that I have no loyalty to the Starks, that they were just the people who held me hostage. Robb will have to understand – I'm doing what is best for me and for my family. The Seastone chair is mine by rights and by the time I'm finished, father will call me his heir instead of Asha.

He knew just how to begin proving his loyalty to his family too. He would be baptized again in the name of the Drowned God and then… then he would prove his worth.

Author's Note: Well, there it is! This little trip is forcing Maliya to examine herself in a few different ways. She thought she was pretty smooth with politics but her conversation with Margaery didn't go as she had planned and now she's beginning to doubt something she used to be pretty certain on. As for Theon.. he's being an arrogant, insecure idiot, but that's nothing new.

Hopefully next chapter is easier to write. Littlefinger comes for a visit, Maliya meets Stannis and Melisandre and the reinforcements from Dorne finally arrive! If you guys feel like helping me out, leave a review and let me know anything that you think or want to happen! Sometimes when I read through some of your suggestions, it triggers something that I can add to my story.

Thank you all for being so understanding. Your support means everything to me.

Guest 1: Thank you for reviewing and for your help! I'm assuming from your review that you hate Littlefinger haha and I understand how you feel! I'm also fascinated by him if I'm being honest. He's so manipulative and deceitful that I'm left constantly wandering how his brain works.

Guest 2: Thank you, I'm glad you liked the scene between Jaime and Maliya, and I definitely think they have an interesting dynamic, which I hope to further explore! I'm not so sure Melisandre is crazy. Personally I think that she has some type of power and I think she genuinely believes what she's seeing. Her motives aren't entirely clear yet and her mystery makes her intriguiging!

Guest 3: I'm glad you liked the chapter, thank you for taking the time to review. Yes, I believe that Jaime and Maliya will talk again soon! I hope you enjoyed the scenes between Margaery and Maliya.

Guest 4: Glad you liked it, hope you like this one too!

Guest33: Thanks for reviewing! I have big plans for the dragon and they will be coming into play soon, don't you worry. Hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 5: Thanks for your review, here's the update!

Guest 6: Thanks for the review, glad you love the story so far. I hope you like where I continue to take it!