It had taken considerable persuasion from Jon and Theon to stop him from marching to the Red Keep and attempting to impale Jaime Lannister on his sword. They had pinned him to the wall, and he had fought against them viciously to breakaway, but eventually his good sense won out. Now he stood in the godswood of King's Landing with Jon, Theon, and Jory, trying to make sense of things.

"Does Lord Stark mean to call his banners?" Jory asked Theon, from where he was leaned against a tree.

"Not yet. He was the angriest I have ever witnessed, but the risk to Robb would be considerable if he called his full strength," Theon commented. "Before I left he was preparing to travel to Last Hearth to meet with the Umbers under the guise of discussing the increased wildling attacks."

"What about appealing to the King himself?" Jon questioned.

Theon chuckled. "Of course. Walk up to the King and accuse his Queen of being in an incestuous affair with her Brother...all at the word of a small boy hundreds of miles away."

"You do not really believe that Tywin Lannister will allow my Father to seek justice against his own son and heir," Robb bristled. "Or the Queen for that matter. Add to that the fact that the King is beholden to Tywin to keep the treasury afloat."

"Lord Stark still believes the King is in danger," Theon continued. "The news of Bran's improvement is being kept concealed for the time being. No one outside of Lord and Lady Stark, Maester Luwin, and myself are aware."

"And what instruction did my Father have for me?" Robb sought.

"Patience, for now," Theon muttered sourly, clearly in disagreement with that strategy. "If you feel you are in immediate danger, then Lord Stark wants you to flee as quietly as possible. Otherwise, keep up appearances and be vigilant for any threats against the King. He will get word to you if circumstances change. He will not make a move until he is sure you are away from the Lannisters."

"And what will you do now, Greyjoy?" Jon asked

"I've secured a room at an inn up the road from King's Landing. I'm sure you passed it on the journey here. I'll be staying there for the time being. There will be fresh horses ready if you need to run."

"Theon, I can't stress enough how important it is that you keep yourself concealed," Jory warned. "I'm glad that Lord Stark trusts you, but if someone finds out the heir to Iron Islands is in the Capital, it will draw very unwanted attention."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my cloak on and hood up when I'm out."

"That also means staying out of the brothels," Robb stated. "I think Littlefinger has an interest in most of the ones in King's Landing, so no doubt the employees there inform him about the clientele."

"No matter," Theon shrugged. "Plenty of soft and pretty things have made their way to the Capital for this tournament. I'm sure one of them can keep me entertained for a time."

"Just remember to do your thinking with your head and not your cock," Jon frowned. "We're in the midst of enemies."

"I see you're still cheerful as ever, Snow."

"That's enough," Robb halted Jon, before he could respond. "We've been here long enough. From now on, we all need to operate under the assumption that someone could be listening."

Later that evening, Robb found himself seated alone in his chambers, idly twirling the dagger that Theon had brought from Winterfell. His plate of dinner sat on his table abandoned, and barely touched. The thought that someone had tried to stab his Brother with the dagger infuriated him and would not leave his mind in peace. He wanted justice; to go before the King, point his finger at the Kingslayer and let the truth of the Lannister's crimes be known. However, that was not the way of things in the south. Few men were as upright and honest as Eddard Stark, and justice was a fleeting concept.

The main problem that Robb knew he faced was that he was surrounded by enemies with few friends of his own. It was something he needed to remedy quickly. The obvious two were the King's own brothers. Ideally he would have sought out Stannis, but Stannis was gone, and he could not risk sending letters to him. That left Renly. Renly was no warrior, but that did not mean that he did not have power and influence. He was the Lord of the Storm's End and could call men to his cause. The other man that Robb was tempted to talk to was the man who would be most concerned for the life of the King, Barristan Selmy. He had had few occasions to speak to the legendary fighter, but knew that he was well respected. He could not say the same for the other members of the Kingsguard.

A sudden tapping startled him, and Grey Wind, whom had been lying at Robb's feet, immediately raised his head towards the door. Robb ran a comforting hand over Grey Wind's head before tucking the dagger away out of sight. Assuming that it was Jon or Jory, he was taken aback at the much more pleasant vision standing on the other side of the door, standing with her hand up and prepared to knock again.

"Good evening, my lady," Robb greeted as Lady Margaery lowed her hand. "To what do I your presence?"

"Oh, I was feeling rather restless at dinner," she said, flippantly. "I managed to sneak away from my Father. It can be rather tiresome when he shows me off as if I'm a prize animal."

"And you just so happen to find your way to my chambers?"

"Not on my own, no. I may have convinced one of the guards to point me in the right direction. And here I am," she smiled. "I only saw you for a brief moment when I arrived, so I figured that needed to be remedied."

"You'll hear no complaint from me my lady. I would invite you inside, but I fear your Father would not look kindly on it. It would not be proper after all."

"Ah, but my Father is not here at the moment. It would be our secret."

Robb rubbed lightly at the stubble on his chin in thought. "Well, if you swear it will be a secret, then I guess there would be no harm in it." He stepped aside and allowed her to enter.

"Oh my!" It had not taken long before Margaery had notice the figure of Grey Wolf, still relaxed on the floor. The direwolf's eyes locked onto the visitor, but the rest of his form remained still and unconcerned.

Robb walked over the wolf and knelt down on one knee, placing a hand on his head. "This is Grey Wind," Robb explained. "Don't worry, he won't hurt you."

Margaery cautiously walked over, her eye's never leaving Grey Wind's. When she was directly in front of him, she tentatively held her right hand out. Grey Wind sniffed her hand, then allowed her softly touch him. "He's wonderful," Margaery exclaimed, more confident now.

"He watches my back," Robb said, giving Grey Wind a final scratch before standing up. "Would you care for a cup of wine?"

"That would be lovely," Margaery answered as she took the seat across from Robb's at his table. "I do have to apologize though, it seems I interrupted your meal." She gestured to the untouched platter on the table.

"No need to apologize, Margaery," Robb explained handing her a cup of wine. "I'm afraid I was too lost in my thoughts to actually to actually consume anything."

"Is something troubling you?"

"No, nothing serious. I think I'm just anxious for the tourney to start." It was a lie for the most part, but he felt it was a suitable deflection.

"Oh, I'm sure you will impress everyone," Margaery stated confidently. "Loras may pretend he does not get nervous, but he does."

"Yes, well I've decided to only compete in the melee, so there will only be one event to concentrate on," Robb explained.

"But is there not more prestige and a larger prize for the joust?"

"There is. I just look at the joust, and I can't help but think that it isn't very reflective of real fighting. In a battle, two men are not going to line up across from each other in front of a crowd, separated by a long partition. The melee is madness, enemies on all sides. It will be much better practice for a real battle."

"Are you expecting to be in battle soon?"

"No, but I suppose it never hurts to be prepared. I learned that on the way to King's Landing," Robb recalled. "Speaking of King's Landing, how have you found it so far?"

"I don't think I can fairly judge it, since I've only just arrived, but it certainly is not Highgarden."

"I would say that few places could rival Highgarden," Robb argued.

"I suppose that is true. My standards may just be high. And the King has been kind, but he is..."

"A drunk," Robb finished for her, and Margaery gave him a look of surprise. "There is not any point in denying it. He may be the King and my Father's friend, but the truth is the truth."

"Yes, I'd have to agree," Margaery nodded. "Hopefully the next King will be much more principled...not that there is anything wrong in indulging every so often," she finished raising her cup.

"I would not allow my hopes to be too high on that front, my lady," Robb frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The Prince is not kind," Robb told her bluntly. "As far as I have seen, he is cruel to everyone, even his own siblings. I think I would rather have a disinterested, drunk king, than one who rules with disdain for everyone but himself."

Margaery glanced away from him for a moment and sighed. "My Father means for me to marry Joffrey."

"Your grandmother had told me as much," Robb confessed. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't think I am surprised. As a lady from a great house, you know from an early age that your choices will not always be your own. In this case, I would be a queen. I cannot pretend that a part of me would not enjoy that title, but I would also be able to do so much good."

"I am sure you would be a wonderful queen, Margaery," Robb stated. "I just fear that all those good things you would do, would never be allowed to happen with Joffrey as your king. He does not strike me as one concerned for the sick and less fortunate."

"I fear there is nothing to be done," Margaery sighed.

"You could run away with me to the north," Robb suggested with a smile. "You said you wished to see Winterfell. I would hide you away and protect you from Joffrey."

"Is that so?" Margaery laughed. "And would you take me for your wife?"

"Aye, my lady, but only if you wished it. There is no one more beautiful or kind that I could possibly think of spending my life with."

Margaery did not respond, but rose slowly from her chair. She crept over to where Robb was seated, his eyes riveted. She proceeded to lower herself until she was seated on Robb's knee. Margaery turned her body until their eyes were locked together. "I am sure I would be the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms to be your wife, Robb. Maybe if the gods are truly good, then they will make it so." Margaery reached up with her hands and place one on each side Robb's face. Before Robb knew it, her lips were on his own. After recovering from the initial shock of it, he responded quickly, his own hands reaching up and cradling the back of her head. His whole body felt like it was aflame as he glorified in the softness of her lips, the slight taste of the wine she had sipped lingering.

Too quickly, she pulled back, her tempting pink tongue running over her swollen lips. "Good night, Robb. I will be cheering for you at the tournament." She then reached into her hair and pulled away a golden ribbon, placing it in his hand. "A favor for luck, even if you will not need it."

The morning of the tournament dawned and Robb had barely slept at all. The melee was not even scheduled for the next day, but thoughts of Margaery and the previous night had kept him up. Her kiss had just added to the maelstrom of things going through his mind. He dressed quickly and met Jon and Jory outside as they made their way down to the tournament grounds. The place was already mobbed by the time they reached it. Luckily they had been afforded reserved seating in the box next to the King with the other highborn spectators.

A dozen or so were already seated in the box, including Varys, Littlefinger and Renly Baratheon. Robb climbed his way up and took a seat next to Renly. "Morning Stark. Eager for the festivities to begin?"

"As much as anyone else I would say," Robb answered. "I'm sure I will be more so tomorrow when it is my time to compete. Do you mean to ride today?"

"Ah, yes, later this afternoon. I fear it will be a rather short tournament for me. I'm to ride against the Hound. An unfortunate draw, unless his horse scares and carries him away from King's Landing."

"Somehow I doubt that will happen, but I wish you luck all the same." Robb looked down and finally noticed the King sitting on a raised dais. He had a cup of wine in his left hand while his right was half way up the skirts of a serving girl.

"You can see my brother is starting the festivities early," Renly grimaced at his brother's actions. "As if he did not have enough black-haired bastards running around the city already. And now there is no Jon Arryn to look out for them."

"What do you mean?" Robb questioned.

"Jon would look after the bastards that Robert sired. He would go see the mothers and make sure that the children were cared for. I'm sure he felt guilt for the way Robert behaves. I've one of them at Storm's End, Edric."

"And they all have black hair."

"Hmm, I believe so. All the ones that I have seen."

Robb's mind immediately began piecing things together...the Queen's infidelity, Jon Arryn's knowledge of the King's bastards and subsequent mysterious death, Stannis fleeing the Capital. All of these things had to be related. Before he could think more on them though, they were interrupted.

"Are you here to see how real men fight, Stark," Prince Joffrey exclaimed as he walked in front of them. "Pay attention and maybe you will learn something. Although it will probably be too late to aide you in the tournament. Hopefully you will not embarrass yourself too thoroughly."

"Your concern is very kind," Robb jibed. "Tell me again my Prince, what events are you competing in?"

"Watch yourself Stark," Joffrey growled. "Competitors die frequently in these tourneys. It would be unfortunate if something were to happen. It would distress my Father greatly to have to send Lord Stark his son's rotting corpse in a box."

Robb rose from his seat, and walked so that he was directly in front of Joffrey. He could feel Jon rise behind him. "Is that a threat?"

"Lannisters do not make threats," Joffrey smirked. "We make promises and always follow through on them."

Robb stepped closer, until their foreheads were practically touching. "You know Joffrey, you may want to make certain your doors and windows are closed at night. Sometimes I neglect to close my own and Grey Wind has a habit of wondering the halls. He's a natural hunter, you see. Unfortunately, there are no deer roaming the halls, so he may just start to develop a taste for spoiled, pompous, prince."

"I'll have the beast skinned and I'll sleep on a bed of his fur," Joffrey growled.

"That would be the only way something would ever warm your bed, seeing as no woman would, willingly."

Now Joffrey smirked. "Oh Stark, you have not heard the news? I'm to wed Margaery Tyrell. I had heard that you were rather close with her on your visit to Highgarden. But now she will be my queen, and I will tie her to my made and use her for my pleasure whenever I see fit. She may be appear to be my Queen, but in reality she will be nothing but my whore."

That had done it for Robb, and Jon must have realized the same, because before Robb could lay waste to the Prince's face, Jon's arms were around Robb forcing him back. "He is not worth it, Robb."

"Listen to your bastard brother Stark," Joffrey sneered.

"What is going on here?"

Robb looked to his right and saw the diminutive form of Tyrion Lannister starting at them in concern.

"We were just talking Uncle," Joffrey muttered.

"Yes, I'm sure," Tyrion frowned. "That is why Snow is holding back Lord Stark here from ripping you in two. Don't you have some small animal to torture somewhere? I think I may have seen some stray kittens outside the Keep this morning."

Joffrey looked down at his Uncle in contempt before turning and walking away towards where the King was seated. Robb watched him until he was out of sight, the blonde hair all he was able to focus on...Lannister blonde hair.

"I apologize for my nephew, Robb." Tyrion shook his head in exasperation. "He may have been dropped on his head as a baby."

Robb sat back down and watched as the first set of riders entered. Jon leaned over so that no one would be able to overhear. "You will need to be careful tomorrow, Robb," Jon whispered. "I don't think you can discount the fact that he may actually pay someone enough to slip a dagger into your neck. The melee would be the perfect opportunity to do it."

"It would also be the perfect opportunity to kill Joffrey's father," Robb countered.

Jon looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Why would you want to kill the King?"

"I'm not going to kill Robert Baratheon. I'm going to kill Jaime Lannister."