Chapter 10: Godswood

It was the evening, and Jennisei was helping Sansa into her nightgown, having helped her bath before bed. The sun was set, but it was not very late; still, Sansa was tired from her day. In truth, she had been feeling quite tired, lately, and was certain to go to bed soon, before Willas even came back from his day.

She closed her eyes as her handmaiden gently brushed her long red hair, feeling more relaxed at each stroke from the brush.

"My lady," Jennisei quietly said, "Will you allow me a single insolent question?"

Sansa opened her eyes, taken aback by the request. What could Jennisei possibly have to ask that she thought would offend her?

"Of course," she replied.

"When is the last time your red flower bloomed?"

Sansa blushed at the direct question. Truly, when had she last bled? Now that Jennisei mentioned it, she realized that her moon blood had not been on time. It should have come around the time Joffrey died, only...

Only it had not.

"I don't mean to pry, I apologize, it's just - I've been noticing -" the handmaiden seemed quite sorry to have brought it up now.

"It has been nearly two moons," Sansa slowly replied, not even taking notice. "You... you have been noticing things? What have you seen?"

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might break out of her chest, and she turned her glance towards Jennisei, her blue eyes seeking reassurance and confirmation.

"My lady, I help you bath, dress and undress you every day. I have noticed some subtle changes in the shape of your body lately. Nothing that would be seen when you are clothed - not yet, but... well, I have been suspecting for a little while, but I dared not ask."

Sansa's fingers were entangled with hers, almost as an anchor, and she felt her other hand go to her stomach, even though she knew she could not possibly feel anything yet. She was with child - she would give Willas a baby, make her lady mother a grandmother. In eight moons or so, she would be a mother.

The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

It was bound to be, of course; they had been married for a few moons now. Willas lusted for her her often, and it had been quite easy for Sansa to be a dutiful wife when the duties felt so good.

"You must be so happy, my lady - the gods are generous, to bless you both so soon in your marriage."

"Yes," Sansa quietly replied, a faint smile on her lips.

She was feeling so many different emotions swirling in her head - anxiety, joy, anticipation, excitement - that she felt dizzy.

"I will go to bed now - please keep it a secret? I want to be the one to tell Willas."

"Naturally, my lady, your secret is safe. Sleep well, I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Jennisei."

Once she was alone, Sansa slid under the silk sheets, but she could not find sleep. Her mind was racing; how would she tell Willas? How should she bring it up? Sansa bit her bottom lip. Would he be happy? She hoped so. Would she birth a son? Would Willas resent her if she gave him a daughter? They were young still, but Willas would be Lord of Highgarden one day, and would need an heir of his own.

Sansa sat up in the bed, frustrated at her spinning thoughts that kept her awake despite how tired she was. It was no use wondering how Willas might react to a daughter when she had just found out that she was with child; they would not know until she gave birth anyway, and that was in many moons from now.

You cannot imagine the pain, Cersei Lannister had told her. Sansa shivered as the queen's voice echoed in her mind. Mother gave birth to all five of us, Sansa told herself. I can be strong, too.

The door opened, and Sansa glanced towards it just in time to see Willas slip in quietly. It was obvious he was trying to be as discreet as possible, as to not bother her in her sleep, and Sansa found it quite sweet.

"You are awake still, darling?" he said in her direction when he saw that she was sitting up in the bed. "I saw no light coming through the door and thought you were asleep."

"I... I went to bed, but I could not find sleep."

Willas sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand with a concerned expression on his face.

"Is something troubling you? Anything I can do?"

"No, nothing like that," Sansa shook her head. "Well... I suppose something is troubling me, only... it's something good."

Her husband frowned.

"Please, Sansa, tell me."

"I..."

She took a deep breath. She had no choice now but to speak the truth.

"Please understand that I have not seen Maester Lomys about this yet, but - I've realized earlier this evening that I am with child."

There was an immediate light in his hazel eyes and his lips curved in a happy smile as her words dawned on him.

"This is fantastic news, my love," he said.

He leaned in to kiss her, and she was happy to kiss him back, digging her hand in his curly hair. She thought he might take her, but instead he laid next to her, holding her tightly in his arms as his fingers played in her long fiery hair. Her head was on his chest, and she was visibly sleepy now. He wondered if she would give him a son or a daughter. No matter, he decided. We're young still - if she has a girl, we will get sons later.

He gently kissed her forehead, quickly drifting to sleep, still holding his wife in his arms.


The next morning, Robb was sitting in his apartments with Catelyn, breaking their fast together.

"You are telling me that Lord Willas has offered you an alliance against the Lannisters, offered to help you take Winterfell back, and offered his sister's hand to solidify this alliance?" she said, shocked.

It had taken him a few days to mention it to her. He had wanted, needed to reflect on it on his own, without any influence, before he heard his mother's opinion.

"Correct."

Catelyn blinked.

"What is supposed to be at his advantage in this exactly?"

Robb shrugged.

"He claims to hate the Lannisters."

"I suppose he has reasons to - Cersei Lannister accused Margaery of poisoning Joffrey, Sansa told me. That would not have sat well with Willas Tyrell, I presume."

Robb glanced outside. It was early, but the sun was already up in the sky. It would be a warm day, and gods he was not used to those.

"Wed to Renly Baratheon, wed to Joffrey, and now her hand is offered to me. I believe she wants a crown, which makes me suspicious."

Catelyn shook her head.

"Her father wants her to have a crown, you mean," Catelyn corrected him. "Or her brother does. Margaery is a highborn girl. We do not get to choose."

"No, but I do."

If Margaery Tyrell wanted to take advantage of him, she would not be the first one to try. He still remembered how Jeyne Westerling had tried to get him to take her maidenhead, and he did not know how he had overcome the fog of grief and milk of the puppy to turn her down and push her away. If he had taken her, he would have been honourbound to wed her, to preserve her dignity.

Margaery was a much better match, of course. The Reach was wealthy and a powerful ally; she was beautiful and, by all accounts, kind and intelligent. In many regards, she was a dream come true for him. He could seldom think of a better prospect as a wife.

But she was a Southerner, and he would be breaking his vow to marry one of Lord Frey's daughters or granddaughters. The old man would not accept or forgive this insult easily - but by then, he would have Highgarden's supplies and armies with him. Would Walder Frey's wrath bother him at all? Would his bannermen loath his choice for a wife, if she brought with her the strength of the Reach to help them reclaim Winterfell?

"I don't even know her," he sighed.

"People in our position rarely do before they marry."

He lowered his gaze, but she knew he understood his duty. If he thought the union was profitable enough, he ought to accept.

"I need to go to the goswood," he said.

Catelyn simply nodded, and he quickly left the room.


Highgarden's godwoods was very different from the one Robb had grown up with in Winterfell; it was green and lush, but it had the same rawness and simple beauty that made it special in its own way. It had the same soothing effect on him - the old gods were watching, even here in Highgarden. Silently, he sat on a flat white rock, slowly breathing in, then out.

He did not know how long he had been there when he heard a noise - footsteps? - and his eyes darted open in time to see Margaery Tyrell walking in the clearing he had stopped in, coming through a tight path through branches.

"My apologies, Your Grace," she gave him a curtsy upon seeing him. "I did not mean to disturb you in your prayers."

She was wearing a beautiful emerald silk gown with a golden shawl around her shoulders, and her long, warm brown hair was styled simply and elegantly. She had a simple golden rose pendant around her neck, dangling on a delicate gold chain. She truly is a beauty, he reflected.

"Are you here to pray?" he asked, frowning.

He found it hard to believe that the daughter of Mace Tyrell would follow the old gods.

"No, Your Grace; I respect all gods, but I worship the Seven," she confessed. "I was merely coming here to read."

He now noticed that she was holding a book in her hand. He could not tell what it was, not from where he was sitting.

"I have always found this place to be so quiet and calming. This very place, actually."

She smiled and sat next to him on the large flat rock.

"It's my favourite place in the whole domain. I sit here and I read, or do needlework. Silly woman things, I know, but I find it soothing and more pleasant to do them here."

The young lady paused.

"I hope I do not give offense, Your Grace," she finished, her voice sweet as honey. "I know this is a sacred place."

"Please, you are Sansa's friend; call me Robb. And you do not give offense; to speak the truth, I was not really praying either. I was merely meditating. It's... something I could do anywhere, I suppose, but I like doing it in the godswood. Nothing can compare to the one in Winterfell, of course, but the one here feels almost the same."

"Sansa also said nothing can compare to Winterfell and the North," Margaery said, smiling. "I wish to see it one day. It must be such a beauty to behold."

Robb glanced at her sideways.

"Is that why you wish to marry me?' he asked.

She did not miss a single step.

"It is not about what I want, it is about my duty to my family. Still, so many of us are married off to old, cruel and ugly lords; if my brother wishes for me to marry you, I daresay this is far from the worst prospect to me.'

Robb had the faintest smile on his lips. He could tell, or at least suspect, that she was toying with him, but he found that he wanted to play along.

"What if I am a cruel lord?" he asked her. "This is the first time we have ever spoken, after all."

"Sansa said you were honourable, kind and intelligent," Margaery said. "I trust her."

Sansa had said that? It pleased him that she had such a high opinion of him.

"You trust my sister to be a good judge of my character?"

"Why not? She would warn me, I am sure. She warned me about Joffrey, after all, before she even truly knew me."

"And yet you wed him," the young king was looking at her as he responded.

"The choice was not mine. I am forever grateful to the gods for taking him before he could hurt me."

Robb cleared his throat.

"Are you also grateful they took Renly?"

"No," Margaery immediately replied, her voice melodic as ever. "Renly was gentle, he was a good man. He had... his issues, but he was never unkind to me."

Renly would most likely never have shared her bed, as his heart and desire belonged to her brother Loras, but she had had nothing to fear as his queen, she knew that.

Robb's sky blue eyes were still studying her. She seemed genuine, but if she had been raised and groomed to become queen, she likely was talented with politics and manipulation.

"I believe I have taken enough of your time," the young lady said towards him, getting on her feet. "I will leave you to your quiet meditation."

She gave him an elegant curtsy.

"Have a pleasant day, Yo-" she had almost forgotten herself. "Robb," she corrected with a warm smile.

"A pleasant day to you as well," he said with a bow of the head towards her.

Margaery walked away, feeling his eyes following her through the trees until she was out of his line of sight.

Not long after she had left, Robb stood up and walked out of the godswood as well, making his way back inside the castle, until he was able to find a guard and request to speak to Willas in the great hall.

He did not have to wait long until the door swung open on Willas Tyrell.

"King in the North, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Willas greeted him.

Robb gave him a pointed look, and the elegant lord waved the guards away.

"I will do it," Robb said as soon as they were alone. "I will wed your sister."

Willas refrained a smirk. Spectacular work, sister, he thought to himself. Less than a week to wrap him around your finger.

"What wonderful news - we will begin the preparations soon. We can make the other plans after you and Margaery are man and wife."

"On one additional condition," Robb added.

Though taken aback, Willas made sure to hide it, politely waiting for his guest to elaborate.

"You will not only pledge to help us against the Lannisters, you will not only pledge to help us reclaim Winterfell - you will pledge to forever support the North's sovereignty as an independent kingdom. No matter who sits the Iron Throne, if he tries to make the North bend the knee, the Reach will help us."

Willas bit his tongue. He had not expected this - but it did not go against any of his plans. Accepting would do no harm, and their families would be joined by two marriages at this point. In a way, honour already demanded that he supported the North.

"Granted," Willas conceded. "I swear it by the old gods and the new - the Reach will forever support the North's independance."

"Good."

Good indeed, Willas reflected. You are a clever one, King in the North. I will not underestimate you again.