A/N: Sorry for the later update than expected - work and school have been a bit busier than usual, and I was stuck on a small writer's block, re: The Northern Tour! I've also been thinking of updating the titles as opposed to using a GRRM-esque one, but I'm not sure if that would be a good idea - thoughts?

I'll try to update more often, but for now, the Grand Northern Tour, some shit-talking, and set-up for more! Hope you all enjoy the chapter!


MARGAERY VIII

Deepwood Motte was not that impressive of a holdfast. Yes, I know, my Reacher sensibilities kind of hit there, but seriously, it was an old castle with wooden walls and a moat, at a location that was prone to attacks by sea and by Wildlings. It was vulnerable, and even if we were at a time of peace, it still bothered me how vulnerable Northern holdfasts were to attacks, despite the size of the North being roughly the same as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms combined. I knew very little about actually improving economic conditions other than the basics, but there was surely something I could do to strengthen my future lands and set the foundation for a prosperous future for the North.

Of course, I kept those thoughts to myself as Robb and I entered Deepwood Motte, and were greeted enthusiastically by Galbart Glover, the Master of Deepwood Motte, and the rest of the Glover family. We were to stay in Deepwood Motte for a sennight, and then make haste to Bear Island, in order to get some more exposure to the conditions of the actual North, including the side of the masterly House and the smallfolk beholden to it.

Dinner in Deepwood Motte was delicious, and very much in the analogue of Scandinavian countries, featured a heavy mix of bread, vegetables grown in harsher conditions, like potatoes and carrots, dipped in gravy, and meats. Lord Glover chatted with Robb and I about the current state of the area, as well as any standard concerns that Lord Glover normally dealt with. Robb, engrossed in the conversation as he was, did not notice much of the reticence House Glover showed towards me, in the stilted replies or the dismissive looks that were sent by various members of the Glover household.

Of course, that was to be expected; I was a Southron woman who had not yet proven myself as a future lady of the North, and there was definitely a form of culture shock, where my dainty look and seemingly girlish sensibilities would have me dismissed as some fainting flower unable to handle a winter or the wilderness around them. In the North, every person is vital to the success of the household. With a Southron name, the only thing I appeared to bring to the table was my name and the Reach's dowry, which would arrive at a later date, alongside possibly suspect Southron sensibilities. Still, I resolved to prove myself as a future Lady of Winterfell, and of course, that would start by working within the North and taking stock of the challenges of the North.

Bright and early, the next morning, Robb and I would take a trip to a nearby farm which helped supply the oats and wheats to the area. I had no real advanced knowledge for farming from my last life, nor any more knowledge than a well-read Reachwoman in this life, but even I could see that the land was harsh and very unsustainable for farming, and that more sustainable soil or land would be needed for a more prosperous farm. Deepwood Motte was so resource rich in other areas that even with the cold, countries in my last life would be begging to develop here.

Beyond spending time at the farms, scouting the nearby lands, or spending time with Master Glover or his brother and wife, learning more about the ins and outs of life for one of our vassals, Robb and I got a chance to really dive into the lands we were one day going to rule, as well as plotting our shared vision of how to make the North more prosperous as a region. The North wasn't just a practical location politically for House Tyrell, but with time and direction, the North could be developed into a power of its own, and House Stark, as well as House Tyrell benefitting from it.

The second half of the week continued much in the same way as the first, where Robb and I made the effort to go to any nearby Northern settlements and help the smallfolk, and to show our faces and bolster our reputations. Wearing a lovely blue dress that I didn't mind messing up, I made full use of my grandmother's lessons as I worked around the settlement, and talked to the smallfolk: repairing buildings, donating food and provisions to those who needed it, and learning about the North. The North was, first and foremost, a cooperative environment, and though I didn't expect Northerners to start singing me praises, perhaps my work here would help my reputation and ease the instinctive distrust of the Northmen I would eventually rule over.

One night, bolstered by all the work we had done, I decided to approach Robb for a conversation long overdue in our planning for the future: children.


"Robb?" I asked hesitantly.

Robb turned to me, and gestured to his bedside, our chaperone looking awkward as he stood in his required spot in the furthest corner of Robb's guest room, knowing he would essentially be eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Still not tired of me after a long day together, Marge?" Robb japed jovially. I gave him a nervous smile. I was springing this giant conversation on him after a long day; maybe there was a better time? After I sat at his bedside, we stared at each other, his eyes searching and my eyes awkward in their nervousness. Robb sighed, and sat up on his bedside, placing an arm around me.

"You've got something on your mind, then." Robb stated seriously. "You know I'm always here to listen, my love."

"Robb, today at supper, Lady Glover and I had a conversation about her two children while you were discussing Northern politics with Lord Glover, you remember?" I started.

Robb nodded, unsure where I was going with this.

"And so she was talking about her battle in the birthing bed for her infant, Erena, and how harsh it was and how it was worth it and she asked about what our children would look, and that had me thinking about-" I fretted on.

Poor Robb looked as though he had been both expecting this moment and also had no idea what to do as my rambling got more detailed and I continued to avoid the question I really wanted to ask, but eventually he stopped me with a deep look that I couldn't help but blush over, his eyes so serious and intent.

"You worry about producing heirs and spares, as Septa Mordane puts it, is that correct, my love?" Robb asked calmly.

Trust my Northerner to cut to the chase immediately.

"Margaery, you know I wouldn't force you to do anything you did not want to, what's bringing this on?" he worried.

I had a mini-panic, as my muddied thoughts crystallized into worked-up ramblings.

"I heard the servants of Winterfell talk about it out of my earshot, and of course, Septa Nysterica says that I have to provide heirs and spares, and with Lady Catelyn facing the birthing bed so often I-"

"Seven hells, is this what her moonbloods are like?" Robb muttered to himself, which did earn him a light punch on the arm from me, causing him to yelp and hurriedly backtrack with apologies. Eventually, though, I calmed down a bit more. Robb and I looked at one another, and he began to speak.

"My love, I'm certainly not going to force you to do anything you don't want to. We will have children when the Gods bless us with them, and we cannot control when that will be. If you would like me to send a Raven to Mother telling her to delay our wedding-"

"No!" I interjected quickly. "You know I want to marry you as soon as possible, Robb, nothing would make me happier, you know that, but I just.." I exclaimed"...don't want to be giving birth to babies in the middle of the War of the Five Kings when I need to be helping my husband survive and win the Game of Thrones?" I thought, but of course, I couldn't say that because I wasn't supposed to know that. Keeping secrets from my partner was annoying.

"-want….to make sure I, uh….don't want to have a child too...early?" I stammered, lamely. I scrambled my brain trying to come up with an explanation, and grasped onto one like a lifeline.

"The Maesters have studies showing that the younger a lady is, the more dangerous the birthing bed is for her, I remember that from my reading!" I declared.

Robb gave me a look, like he knew something was up, but he didn't choose to press on it. He forged on admirably, about as much as you can when your significant other is panicking in front of you.

"We need not have a child until we are both ready - we are barely three-and-ten ourselves." Robb reassured me and he stared at me tenderly, holding my gaze. After a long moment, Robb pressed his forehead to mine, and began to speak.

"I will not risk you to any force that could take you away from me, no less the birthing bed, if you are not ready." Robb whispered softly.

I looked at my husband-to-be tenderly, our faces, so close to one another that we could feel the heat underneath the other's skin. I'm sure the affection showing on both of our faces would make any of our siblings turn away in disgust. Eventually, I decided to reward Robb with a nice kiss, one that we held very strongly, getting a little carried away as Robb cupped my head in his hands to pull me closer, until...

"ER-HEM!" Jory cleared his throat loudly from his corner. My blush turned luminescent as I jumped away, Robb staring at me, besotted, with his own blush on his cheeks. Damn hormones.

"Lady Margaery, best be off to bed now." Jory reminded us firmly. "Lord Robb, you as well. The journey will be very harsh tomorrow. You both will need your rest."

"...not nearly paid enough for what Lord Stark told me to..." I think I heard Jory grumbling but that might have also been my imagination as he escorted me off to my own bedchambers.


If I thought the people of Deepwood Motte looked at me dismissively, they had nothing on the outright glares of the people of Bear Island, and I couldn't exactly blame them. Lynesse Hightower, my technical aunt, was the cause of a lot of Bear Island's recent misfortunes, as Jorah Mormont's quest to please Lynesse Hightower not only nearly bankrupted House Mormont, it also led to Jorah, its heir, becoming a sellsword in Essos, from what I knew in the series.

Rationally, this was to be expected, as I had not proven myself to the various Houses of the North and had ensnared its heir in my thorny embrace. A good Southern Lady should be calm and graceful about it - not give them any inch to prove that they were right, and prove my worth over time.

Realistically? I'm sorry, but I was the Queen of Thorns's granddaughter, and I absolutely would not take any shit from them. They could be judgemental all they wanted, but I would prove my worth in the way that Grandmother had taught me - take no shit, and be the baddest bitch possible. Grandmother would be proud when she heard about this.

"Do Southron flowers like you even do anything but swoon at the sight of jousts? House Tyrell must spend a lot of time picking golden roses to make tapestries with. You've probably never held a weapon in your life, have you?" Dacey asked me, tauntingly, as we walked by the archery practice station.

Robb awkwardly attempted to mediate before shouting occurred, as my eyes twitched.

It was getting harder and harder by the minute not to lash out with some very disrespectful curses. He squeezed my hand in what I think was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but I accidentally squeezed back too hard and earned a yelp of pain from him. Oops.

"Of course, my feeble Southron body would never think to hold weapons in my dainty hands", I demurred, with a fake smile plastered on my face, "...but of course, certain weapons are more subtle and harder to find in Westeros. Common sense must be a premium up in Bear Island, I suppose."

I melodramatically sighed to play up the emotion further.

"House Mormont must be under the impression that my hair is spun gold and my house, Hightower, rather than Tyrell. Perhaps Highgarden could send some Myrish eyes to Bear Island as a part of the dowry to...assist, in the correction of this deficiency, perhaps?"

Dacey's face reddened.

"Words are wind, Southron. Your looks may be pretty, but will you survive the cold winds of winter, or will you wither, like your lady aunt before you?" She sneered. "Lord Stark may need a more appropriate bride for his son, and House Mormont is happy to provide. Isn't that right, Lord Robb?" Robb paled, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Oh, that was it. They could question me all they want, but my relationship for Robb? Over my dead body.

I released Robb's hand from mine, and strode towards the archery range we were at, and my hands moved to my sleeves, with the glint of steel visible from my sleeves, causing Dacey to tense.

"House Tyrell's words are 'Growing Strong', my lady," I said icily, all traces of humor wiped from my face. "A granddaughter of the Queen of Thorns will never be a fragile flower, but rather, a blooming winter rose."

A cold smirk graced my face, and my hands blurred, nights of long practice and muscle memory blending itself together as I threw the two daggers hidden in my sleeve as gracefully as I could.

"And all roses, of course, have their thorns." I finished, smirk still in place, as a loud "THUNK" occurred.

My daggers had impacted their targets, one near the center, and one halfway from the center on the right. Sloppy technique, still, as I had been aiming for the center, but passable, for what it was worth.

Dacey stared evaluatively at me for a second, staring at the daggers embedded in the target. She stared over at me in disbelief, and then at Robb, who looked as though he wasn't sure if he should be running, or if he should kiss me, and began to laugh uproariously.

"Mayhaps I had judged you wrongly, Lady Margaery." Dacey declared. "Let's see if we can make a Northerner out of you yet."

And so began my fast friendship with Lady Dacey Mormont, accompanied by her three sisters, and on occasion, her mother, Maege, when she wasn't with Robb to teach him about the problems Bear Island faced. Apparently, word had spread around after my "loss of control" that I was a very different breed of Southerner than my dear aunt, actively embracing the lands of my betrothed and unashamedly arguing back in the face of a displeased host. By confronting Dacey, I had clearly separated myself from their depictions of dainty Southern women with fake smiles and the temerity to backstab honest Northerners.

In their minds, Southerners usually spent their time in the North complaining about the "backwater savages", throwing fancy tourneys, and spending more and more money, but a Southron not only willing, but happy to learn more about Northern customs, traditions, was a future Lady of Winterfell worth following.

I spent most of the second week joining the Mormont ladies horseback riding, practicing my weaponry, and participating in other activities "worth it" for a future Northern lady. Though an axe would not work very well for me, I was finally passable with a bow and arrow, which was actually pretty fun to use.

Dacey, Alysanne, Jorelle and Lyra reminded me of my Southern clique of ladies, if they were totally disinclined towards gossip and were focused on athleticism instead. Oh, they still giggled with one another, and they were unashamedly blatant in their femininity, but they defied expectations placed upon Westerosi women and did so with the confidence of highborn women who knew that they set the standard and the pace of Northern culture. To them, using weaponry was an everyday activity, and their blunt words and lack of finery made me much more comfortable than I would be compared to the highborn ladies who would whisper behind my back about my 'bookishness and obsession with the North' in Highgarden when they thought I couldn't hear. Like Robb, what you saw was what you got, and it was fun to be able to say what I really thought, sometimes, and giving the Mormont sisters the time to appreciate the vocabulary of a noblewoman with the Queen of Thorns as her primary maternal influence.

More importantly, though, what the Mormont sisters gave me was backing within the various Northern Houses as a 'trustworthy' future lady of Winterfell, as well as knowledge on what Northern ladies were expected to learn. Northern women weren't exactly more progressive than Southron women, it was more that their roles were different, as I found out. Women in House Tyrell, for instance, got the chance to participate in courtly politics and advance the standing of their house in a subtle manner, but their power was essentially limited to their children and their relationship with its lord. Politicking did not exactly exist in the North, but women in the North, in dangerous areas, like Bear Island, learned to fight to ensure that the men could fish and gather resources for the family without worry for the children.

The history of the She-Wolves did lend itself to the belief of strength in Northern women, so long as they fought for the correct claims, and had the right blood, but at the end of the day, women in the North still were ruled by their men, and were subject to their Lord Husband's demands, as standard in a medieval society like Westeros. Robb, however, was someone that had grown up viewing his father and mother's partnership, and was thus, open to a partnership between a sufficiently clever Lady Wife and himself, which meant that I had more freedom than your average medieval lady. I could go on and on about Robb, but the proof is in the pudding, as they say.

And so, after another fun week, the Northern Tour officially ended, and the Mormont sisters, Jory, Robb, and I traveled back to Winterfell, along with our households.


Seeing the imposing gates of Winterfell took my breath away once again, and I suspect it would always take my breath away. With the light summer snow falling gently on the ground, the hearths in the distance, and the guards, it was absolutely stunning, a perfect place for a honeymoon or vacation, if it had existed in my old life. Robb smiled at my gobsmacked look, and the Mormont sisters, who had never once visited Winterfell, seemed to be as awed as I was when I first arrived.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" Robb murmured quietly, our horses side by side. I nodded, smiling back at him, as the guards let us in, and we began to ride to the courtyard, to unload, and then later on, move to the stables.

As we got to the courtyard, we heard a commotion of noise.

"-c'mon Jon, they're here, they're here!" I heard Arya shouting. She had learned about the Mormonts, both from her family, and from Sansa and I, during our shared embroidery lesson, and as our horse approached the courtyard, there were metaphorical stars in her eyes as she pointed excitedly at the women of House Mormont.

Sansa was also whispering excitedly in Jon's ear, standing on his other side, and poor Jon looked harried by the attention of his sisters. Lord Stark and Lady Stark were standing to the left of Sansa, Jon, and Arya, and I suspected that these introductions would require both of them to appear for these introductions for all of the Northern heirs. We must have been the first group here, because no other Northern nobles outside of House Stark were in the courtyard with us.

Robb stopped his horse in front of the courtyard, and I did the same, as we waited for Dacey, Alysanne, and Lyra to catch up. After they assembled, Robb lightly cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"Father, mother, allow me to introduce you to the noble ladies of House Mormont." Robb said in a clear voice. Robb introduced all four ladies of House Mormont, following procedure, and after he had done so, Lord Stark introduced himself, his other children, and the rest of his household, and ended, of course, with an invocation of guest right, the same way he did for the introduction of House Tyrell, even if I had spaced out during it. With the introductions over, Robb and I were free to dismount. I kissed him on the cheek and motioned for him to go, and he grinned at me, planting a kiss on my forehead before running off to Theon.

I went to Jon, who was still in between Sansa and Arya "Jon, I see you're besieged on all sides," I japed, and Jon laughed.

"Good-sister, please take these urchins off of my hands," Jon replied merrily. "Or, urchin, here, I'm not sure where the other one went," Jon noted, as we hugged one another with the fondness of siblings. Even if Jon was Arya's favorite, he spent a lot of time with Robb, and it was easy talking to him when he realized I would treat him the same way as I would with any of Robb's other siblings. I suspect it also made him feel more included, which was why he warmed up to me so quickly.

We both looked around, and found Arya, practically hanging off Dacey and Alysanne's every word. She chatted a mile a minute, as expected, standing next to Bran, who was conversing with Lyra and Jorelle at roughly the same speed.

Sansa pouted next to Jon, disliking this reference, but Jon, in the way that all older siblings do, mussed her perfect hair, causing her to affix him with a mock-annoyed look at the sight of her now-imperfect hair.

"Of course, of course, good-brother." I said. "Go speak with Robb, I fear he may need a little break from me." Jon grinned, releasing me, before going to speak to Robb, no doubt to question him about the world outside of Winterfell.

Sansa took the opportunity to greet me by kissing both my cheeks and to embrace me in a hug as well.

"Sister! It is so good to see you and Robb. Embroidery was so boring without you, and Septa Mordane kept griping about Arya's stitches!" Sansa complained. "How was the tour?"

We interlocked arms, as we continued to walk inside. I gossiped about my trip to her, and she was excited to hear everything, and even audibly gasped when I described my little 'incident'.

Sansa's notions of ladylike behavior had definitely been challenged by me in a good way, as something which, in canon, would have probably caused her to sniff at and call "unrefined" was met with excitement and discussion of her own, as she melded the idea of a proper Northern lady and a proper Southern lady into her own personal blend of ladyship.

Eventually, we arrived in the kitchens, with Elinor and Megga joining the two of us, as we turned to the favorite subject of Southern ladies, talk about the Game of Thrones. Robb and I had been gone for about a moon or two, and Elinor had just recently received a letter updating her about the South, as well as some of the other news Lady Catelyn told Sansa, and we spent time gossiping merrily until Sansa said something that would change the game forever.

"Oh, Margaery, speaking of good news, I have some!" Sansa started, excitedly. "Mother just received a raven about a sennight ago from Grandfather with some news. Lord Tywin contacted Grandfather after the spree of betrothals and marriages, and it turns out that Uncle Edmure was still unmarried!"

Dread filled my stomach, as my brain connected the dots, and Sansa continued, obliviously.

"Grandfather agreed to betroth Uncle Edmure to Lady Cerenna Lannister! She is Lord Tywin's good-niece; the daughter of Lord Tywin's good-brother, Ser Stafford Lannister. Now the Seven Kingdoms really are connected. Isn't that great?"

Fuck Westeros.


A/N: Oh, Margaery. You really thought House Tyrell would get away with a spree of betrothals without Tywin making his very own? Hoster doesn't care who Edmure is betrothed to, so long as heirs are made and he gets a good dowry from it, but Tywin's offer is truly the perfect offer to be had. The Game of Thrones isn't as easy as that, and there will have to be a lot more work done to win the Game of Thrones.