The atmosphere in the great hall was boisterous as the attendees celebrated the conclusion of the Tourney of the Hand. For Robb it was much more of an annoyance than anything. Earlier that day, they had watched as Loras Tyrell had yielded the joust competition to the Hound, after the scarred man had faced off against his brother, Gregor Clegane's, rage to save the Knight of Flowers from an untimely and violent death. While the Tournament Champion would normally be the focal point of the evening, Sandor Clegane seemed to loathe everyone, and everyone seemed fine to leave him be where he stood scowling next the Prince. Of course, that meant that Robb was the new center of attention. Apparently stabbing Jaime Lannister made a man popular.

Though his popularity did not extend to everyone. If the looks the Lannisters gave him could kill, he would be a dead man a thousand times over. The Kingslayer was still recovering from his wound and since Cersei was not in attendance at the feast, Robb knew she must have been providing him personal bedside attention. While the King had been eager to aid him prior to the tournament, he had been distant from Robb ever since. He had bestowed upon Robb a small golden sword and bag of gold at the ceremony following the end of the joust, but he had not spoken to him. Robb could only put it down to the fury of Tywin and his daughter.

Robb had finally managed to extract himself from a group of admirers and find somewhere to refill his wine cup, when he felt yet another presence behind him. His initial look of annoyance quickly gave way when he saw the venerable Barristan Selmy standing close by.

"I won't intrude on you for long, Stark, but I wanted to offer my congratulations on your victory," the old warrior commended. "It was well fought, especially for one with your few years."

"I'm greatly honored by your praise, Ser Barristan, but I'm afraid it was much more good fortune than anything."

The white-haired man chuckled. "Robb, I'm a good fighter, but there have been many good fighters I have either crossed swords with or fought side by side with during my lifetime. The only reason why I am still living and some of them are not is because I was lucky many more times than I was not."

"And also a very good swordsman," Robb asserted.

"Well, let's just agree to say that the amount of luck depends on the quality of the swordsman, but there is still luck involved all the same."

"I'll agree to that," Robb nodded, chuckling. "There was actually another mattere I had wished to discuss with you, but I don't think tonight is the appropriate time or place. Perhaps I could call on you tomorrow when you are not on duty?"

Ser Barristan looked curious, but nodded. "Of course. Shall I stop by your chambers?"

"That will do fine. Thank you, Ser Barristan."

"Of course. Enjoy the rest of the feast. You've earned it." The leader of the Kingsguard meandered away into another throng of guests.

"What was that about?"

Robb looked over his shoulder as his Brother approached, looking inquisitive. "I've arranged for a meeting with Ser Barristan tomorrow. We're going to need his support if anyone decides to make a move," Robb whispered.

"What about Renly? Should he not be our priority? Ser Barristan is still only one man."

"He still is," Robb confirmed, surveying the room. "I mean to speak to him tonight, if the opportunity presents itself."

"Just be cautious," Jon warned. "I fear your humiliation of the Kingslayer may have escalated things."

"Maybe, but we hold the greatest weapon...the truth. It will just be a matter of making our play before they do."

"Can I tell you how much I despise these fucking political games?" Jon asked.

"There's no need," Robb stated. "I feel much the same. I think I will only feel better when I'm back in Wintefell, secure and safely wrapped in the furs on my bed."

"I do feel the need to remind you one more time, that it is completely your fault that I am here," Jon muttered.

"And I'll acknowledge your point once again, but I think I see my chance to speak to our needed friend." Indeed, Renly had just finished speaking to some Lord whom Robb did not recognize, and was seemingly heading toward a table laden with mounds of food. When Robb reached him, the Lord of Storm's End was picking up some sort of small pastry from the table.

"It seems no expense was spared for this event," Robb commented, as he too reached for something off the table, trying his best at nonchalance.

"Ah, Robb, congratulations on your victory. I cannot lie, I thoroughly enjoyed it."

"Thank you, Renly. I don't mean to be rude, but I actually did not come to exchange pleasantries. Would it be possible to have a word with you in private?"

"Now? And miss out on the feast?"

Robb leaned closer, so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "The matter I wish to raise is of utmost importance," he insisted. "The King is in danger."

Renly instantly lost his casualness and stared hard at Robb. "Alright. Let's slip out of here quickly." Luckily the food tables were well attended, so getting out of the hall was relatively easy. Renly, having spent a much greater amount of time in the Keep navigated them, leading them to some sort of storage room filled with all matter of forgotten things. There was a window to the room that offered them their only small source of light. "So tell me your concerns, Robb."

"I've received word from my Father in Winterfell," Robb began. "My Brother, Bran, has awoken from his fall from the tower."

"Well that's excellent news is it not?"

"He remembered everything prior to his fall, Renly. He was just an adventurous boy out to have fun climbing, when he had the misfortune to stumble upon Jaime Lannister fucking his own sister."

Renly's jaw immediately dropped. "You jest!"

"About something like this, I would not dare, especially standing inside the Red Keep of King's Landing. Bran caught them in the act, and Jaime Lannister shoved him off a tower and tried to kill him. He was lucky not to die, but he'll likely not ever walk again."

"I wish I could say that I did not believe him capable of such, but we all know that not to be the case. Though, to bed the Queen is an act of treason."

"That was not the end of it though. Someone sent an assassin to try and finish the job, but they were unsuccessful."

"Why have we not had news of this? Why has my Brother not been informed?"

Robb began pacing the room restlessly. "Because my Father fears for the King's safety...and mine as well, considering I am currently stuck here. In case you had not noticed, the Lannisters fill King's Landing as if it is their own family seat. What do you think will happen when the King finds out that his Queen is laying with a member of his own Kingsguard?"

"Nothing pleasant. Robert's temper is legendary. He went to war and overthrew a King the last time he was truly upset."

"And that is just part of it, Renly. You remember our conversation from yesterday, do you not? None of Cersei's children look a thing like Robert Baratheon. They are clearly nothing but Lannister. The King has no heirs."

"Robert will have all of their heads for this," Renly frowned. "There will be no stopping him."

"Unless the Lannisters make a move against him first," Robb countered. "There is no chance that Jon Arryn died of some random sickness. He was murdered for something, and if I had to guess it was for having the same knowledge that Bran had. The Lannisters are already on edge, and they have no idea that Bran is awake. If the King suddenly dies like Jon Arryn, they can install Joffrey on the throne and make us all look like treasonous dissidents if we confront them. We would not keep our own heads for long."

"Not likely," Renly agreed. "Where is your Father, Robb? I can't imagine he is content to sit back and let the Lannisters have their way."

"He is being patient out of necessity," Robb explained. "He has already started organizing his bannerman, but once he starts gathering his army or marching towards the Riverlands, the news will reach King's Landing. We still have an opportunity to put a plan in place and be proactive, but it must be done quickly."

"What would you have me do?" Renly asked.

"We need enough loyal Baratheon men in the capital to forestall any action or possible retaliation by the Lannisters. I do not think that we can take the City Watch's loyalty for granted, so that must be accounted for as well. At least until my Father's army is close."

"I will leave at once for Storm's End," Renly responded, after a few moments of contemplation. "Give me a few days and I will have the men we need. I will make some trivial excuse up for the visit. I doubt Robert will miss me or anyone else will miss me."

"I have no authority to tell you to do this Renly, but I will ask it of you. I think once you reach Storm's End, you should contact Stannis. With things being as they are, he is the heir to the throne."

"Must I?" Renly clearly looked displeased. "King's Landing has been much less dreary without him."

Robb sighed at the older man's childishness. "I know he is not well liked, Renly, but his military skill and experience cannot be questioned. There may come a time that we need him. He knew something was wrong when he left King's Landing, knew Jon Arryn was murdered, but he was the only one at the time. He will not be alone now."

The feast was still in full swing when Robb reentered the Great Hall after leaving Renly. No one but Jon paid him any particular attention as he moved back over to his brother.

"So?" Jon questioned

"It is done," Robb answered. "We should have the men we need within a few days, if Renly is to be believed."

"Those will be a long few days," Jon muttered.

"Then you should go enjoy yourself tonight," Robb encouraged, patting his Brother on the arm. "Go get roaring drunk, or find yourself a beautiful lass to kiss. That's exactly what I intend to do." His gaze had slowly shifted away from Jon and to Margaery, who was slowly making her way through the crowd.

"Try not to bed her in the middle of the hall, if you can restrain yourself," Jon commented as he saw Robb's attention shift. "I think you've angered the Lannisters enough for one day."

"Was that an attempt at humor, Snow?" Robb mocked. "I was not certain you were capable of such a thing."

He left his Brother and pushed his way through the throngs of guests until he was situated directly behind the object of his affections. Reaching out, he gently ran his hand along the fabric of her dress that covered her back, garnering her attention. She looked back and smiled gently when she saw him standing there.

"Robb," she greeted. "I would say congratulations are in order. You fought brilliantly, though you certainly had my heart beating quickly."

"Thank you, my lady, but I think it is you I have to thank for the victory." Robb pulled up the sleeve of his tunic and showed her where her golden ribbon was still tied around his wrist. "It was only by the luck you afforded me that I came away the winner."

"I appreciate the compliment, Robb, but I think your skill and determination had much more to do with it than I. Were you hurt anywhere else?" she asked, casually running her finger along the length of the cut on Robb's cheek. Luckily it had not been deep, and the maester attending him had simply applied a paste to it to aid in healing.

"Nothing serious," Robb responded, enjoying the feel of her touch. "Just some bumps and bruises. I'm likely to be sore in the morning, but the wine is doing a well enough job of making me forget about such."

"It is a shame that we are not alone then, because I could think of other more pleasant ways to distract your mind," she teased, her smile dazzling and impish.

Robb found himself speechless for a moment, before he reached up and grabbed her lingering hand. "I will have to remember you have such impressive skills. Though, for now, would you accompany me for a walk outside? I think I need a brief reprieve from all of the noise."

"Of course, Robb. I would love a walk," she easily agreed.

With Margaery's arm through his own, Robb quickly maneuvered them through the hall and eventually outside into the night air. They passed others who were late to the feast or simply so drunk that they had simply passed out against the castle walls. The guards posted outside paid them no mind as they passed, but Robb knew they watched and reported to one of many different backers, so he quickly steered Margaery away.

Inevitably, Robb led them to the one place that gave him any sense of home in the enormity of King's Landing, the godswood. There was limited light in the acre of wood, so Robb managed to locate an abandoned lantern before they entered. The sight of the gnarled heart tree was haunting in the darkness, but they took a seat next to it nonetheless. As they sat, taking in the night air and listening to sound of the Blackwater Rush as it flowed behind them, Margaery reached out and took of his left hand with both of hers.

"Is there something wrong, Robb?" she questioned. "You've seemed distracted ever since we left the hall. I would have thought your victory would have you in good spirits. Are you certain you were not injured?"

"No, no, I am fine, Margaery, truly" Robb reassured, though he knew there was still a hint of stress to his voice. "I am pleased I won the melee, but I am afraid other things are weighing heavily on my mind."

"Is it your Brother? Has there been word of his condition?"

Robb opened his mouth, but then hesitated. He liked Margaery, and he wanted to trust in her. There were already so few people he could. His desire won out over his caution. "Aye, I received word from my Father. Bran has awoken. He'll live, but likely never walk again."

"You are fortunate then that you still have your Brother, Robb. Willas may not be able to ride or fight as he once did, but he still has his mind, and we love him just the same."

"That's very true, my lady," Robb agreed. "And I am very thankful that I will get to see him and talk to him again when I return to Winterfell."

"Then what troubles you?"

"Other news came from my Father as well," Robb confessed. "I will not tell you everything in detail, but I fear there will be war in Westeros soon."

"War? War between whom?"

"I could tell you, but I think you can guess."

"The Lannisters," she replied with no hesitation.

"Aye, the Lannisters. Things have happened that cannot be undone, and truths will be revealed that cannot be unsaid," he stated. "People are going to die, and the only question is how many."

"What are you going to do?" Margaery asked, worry clearly reflected in her eyes.

"I'm going to protect my King," Robb proclaimed. "I'm going to protect my House, and my family. I have already taken steps to secure more allies in King's Landing. Unfortunately, until they arrive, we are outnumbered here."

"Can I help?" Margaery questioned, gripping Robb's hand tighter. "You should speak to Loras. He will help you. I know it. And there are other soldiers here with our family who will as well, if Loras orders it. I could send word to my Grandmother-"

"No, Margaery," Robb halted her impassioned speech, now holding both of her hands. "I am only telling you the things I am because I want you to be safe if the worse should come to pass. Your family has had no involvement in this. These actions are mine. If things go badly, I don't want any fall out on you or your House. As much as it would have disappointed me, I wish you had stayed in the safety of Highgarden."

"Well, I am glad I did not," Margaery countered, leaning her forehead against Robb's. With her so close, he could smell the intoxicating scent of the flowery perfume she wore. "If I had stayed, then I may have never had the chance to do this." She closed the remaining distance and kissed him again.

She was finished talking and Robb had no problem with that. She was an excellent kisser. Her hands were roaming over his chest and abdomen, and on several occasions one ventured bravely down to the inside of his thigh, causing his entire body to warm. Robb took his own initiative, letting his hands wander down her back until they firmly gripped the curves of her backside. He lifted her onto his lap, their hips now practically melded together. Robb could barely stifle a moan at the new friction between them. However, if he thought he was in control, he was quickly proven wrong as he was pushed backwards onto the bench, Margaery still attached to his lips. Before things could progress any further though, one Margaery's hands found a particular spot along Robb's side that had taken a blow during the Tourney. The sudden pain caused a jolt, and Robb's body lurched forward. His lips broke away from Margaery, letting out a hiss of pain as they did so.

"Are you alright?" Margeary asked, concerned and breathing deeply.

"Yes," Robb grimaced, half in pain, half in embarassment. "Sorry, my side is still a little tender."

"It should be I that is apologizing," Margaery argued. "I told you when I got you alone I would make you feel better, not hurt you more."

Robb laughed as he reluctantly sat up and lifted Maragery so that she was once again seated next to him. "You were doing a magnificent job prior to that, my lady, as I believe you could tell."

"Yes, I very much could," she grinned, and leaned over to kiss him briefly once more.

"As much as I enjoyed it, I am glad we were stopped," Robb confessed. "I do not think the godswood in King's Landing is the most appropriate place for such things."

"And where would the appropriate place be?" she teased.

"A nice, soft, feather bed far away from this dreadful place," he responded, caressing her cheek.

"It sounds as though you are a bit of a romantic Robb Stark."

"Maybe," he laughed. "I think Sansa's obsession with stories of heroic knights and their fair ladies may have corrupted me a touch."

"Your Sister sounds lovely," Margaery smiled. "Maybe one day we'll have our own story written in books and told to children throughout the realm."

"A good one I hope," Robb muttered. "In the north, we tend to grow up on stories of giants, wildlings, and all manner of other things meant to frighten small children."

"No, I'm sure our story will be a brilliant one. The gallant and brave Lord of Winterfell, Robb Stark, and his adoring, beautiful wife Margaery. Oh, and we cannot forget their eight wonderful children."

"Eight?" Robb's eyes widened. "Why eight?"

"Well, it is so very cold in the north. We will have to do what we can to keep warm."

"Of course," Robb nodded. "What happened to becoming queen?"

"Just a girl's dream," Margaery explained. "If becoming queen turns someone into a miserable hag like Cersei Lannister, then I think I would rather be anything else."

"Then I will make you my wife," Robb promised. "If things work as we've planned, then any thought of a betrothal to Joffrey will be a distant memory."

"Truly?"
"I would marry you right this second if our families would not disown us for it."

"And how would we do that?"

Robb pointed to the great oak tree next to them. "Most northern houses don't have Septs or Septons. When we pray or say our vows, we do so here because it is said that the old gods hear us and judge us through the trees. They bear witness to our words."

"So we could say our vows right here, right now, and in the eyes of the north we would be married?"

"Yes," Robb confirmed. "As tempting as that would be, I would say my vows to you in Winterfell, in the home of my ancestors. It would not feel right here, not in this place."

"I agree," Margaery nodded, leaning against him. "Hopefully the gods are good and will grant that to us."

"Hopefully," Robb sighed, though visions of war and carnage ran through his mind.

No one had seemed to pay much mind to his or her absence when he escorted Margaery back into the feast, though Jon had simply raised an inquiring brow at him. The exhaustion of the day had taken a toll on him, and before long, and after a final cup of wine, he had made his excuses and headed back towards his chambers.

Though it seemed that things were closing in around him in King's Landing, he found himself still savoring the time he had spent with Margaery. She had a wonderful and addictive presence about her that he could not help but love. They had only just met, but he knew, somehow, that he would be happy with no other woman, not southern or northern. He still had a smile on his face at the recall of their night when he pushed open the door to his chambers. That smile quickly fell.

"Ah, Lord Stark," Varys greeted from where he was seated at Robb's table. He was wearing another of his garish purple robes, and in his hands he was casually examining a certain valyrian steel dagger. On the table in front of him sat a very large tome. "I am most glad that you have returned. We have much to discuss, and so little time it seems."

Robb quickly closed the door behind, needing to know that his back was not exposed. It was unfortunate that Grey Wind was out hunting, because Varys would not have been so leisurely sitting in Robb's room otherwise. "I am afraid you have me at a loss Lord Varys," Robb remarked. "What matters could we have to discuss at this hour of the night?"

Varys frowned, which immediately put Robb on edge, the sight disconcerting. The man rarely showed emotion. "Oh, there are a variety of matters to discuss...the future of the Seven Kingdoms...the safety of the King...why your Father is calling his banners and amassing an army in the north. Shall we start with the last?"