A/N: I reformatted some of the earlier chapters. Nothing new plot-wise has been added, but about 10k words of corrections and elaborations was added to smooth out the choppiness of the earlier chapters, and add some more to the quality of the fanfic itself. This chapter, however, is a very real and deep descent into the plot of the story, with politics, plot, and magic shenanigans, and will have a much different tone than the chapter before it. Hope you enjoy it!
Also, as a sidenote and a disclaimer, I do not own GRRM's works, or else I would certainly be richer for it.
ROBB II
"...when he will wake," Robb heard himself saying. He felt himself deliberately shifting his voice in a more lordly manner, to emphasize something important. "Bran, I promise you, whatever might happen I will not let this be forgotten," he intoned. Let what be forgotten?
"What will you do?" he heard Bran ask, in a small and fearful voice. Bran was on a horse, but Robb noted a very critical difference between the Bran here and the Bran he knew; Bran's legs weren't moving at all. He wanted nothing more but to embrace his brother and protect him from whatever made him sound so scared, yet, he knew he had no control over himself at this point. Theon reined his horse besides them, and Robb was momentarily relieved to see a familiar face.
"Theon thinks I should call the banners," Robb replied. The banners? What on earth would require him to call the banners? The realms were at peace, weren't they?
"Blood for blood." Theon intoned, but Theon's face though, it terrified Robb, with a dark, hungry look to his eyes, as if Theon himself was thirsting for revenge.
"Only the lord can call the banners," Bran noted.
"If your father dies," Theon said, "Robb wll be Lord of Winterfell."
"He won't die!" Bran screamed, as if willing to deny the truth. But why would Father die? Father was healthy, he was Lord of Winterfell, he was in Winterfell. So what could he be hearing about…
As he thought this, his dream vanished in a blur of grey mist, words and impressions and things Robb could not name filling him until it settled onto a sunny day and a Sept, surrounded by people. His father was...in chains? There was a High Septon, a woman dressed finely in red and gold, knights, and a boy with a crown. Joffrey? Sansa stood with Joffrey smiling, but why was she smiling if their father was in chains?
Joffrey opened his mouth and began to speak.
"My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father." Father, taking the black? Sansa, having to beg for mercy? Impossible!
And then he looked at Sansa and smiled, but then Joffrey turned back to the crowd.
"But they have the soft hearts of women." Joffrey continued. "So long as I am your king, treason will never go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!"
Sansa fell to her knees, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably. No, this wasn't real. This wasn't happening, Robb thought dimly as he struggled, he ran towards Ser Illyn Payne, attempting to do something, but he was trapped. Sansa's screams echoed in his ears as he vainly tried to help.
Arya's form appeared in the crowd, slashing and moving, until she was stopped by an old man. Sansa was still screaming, and he saw the sword. Ice! He struggled further, and further, getting nowhere as he watched the blade descend down onto his father's head.
No. This wasn't real. It was just a dream.
His father's head rolled off his shoulders in a spurt of blood.
Nonono. No no no no no. NO! NO NO NO NO! THIS CAN'T BE REAL! IT CAN'T! THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!
He screamed as he strained his mind, trying to do anything her could do to stop this from happening, to interfere in any way he possibly could, to turn back time and save his father, ANYTHING!
Robb felt tears rolling down his face in grief as his mind comprehended the events, and he screamed and struggled for a timeless moment, recoiling as the trap only grew tighter and tighter.
"Soon, Very soon." Robb heard a voice declare thoughtfully. "Do not fall too fast, Young Wolf. All will be in time."
"Get. Me. OUT!" Robb screamed at the voice, straining himself in exertion. "LET. ME! LEAVE!"
Something like glass cracked into many fine pieces, and the sound pierced his ears, as the grey mist suddenly separated.
And Robb awoke in his bed with Margaery, his eyes filled with tears, breath leaving Robb in harsh gasps as his mind attempted to make sense of what he just saw.
His wife had been reading a book, but the tear tracks on Robb's eyes as well as the harsh gasps had been noticed by his beloved wife, who had hurriedly closed her book, placed it on the nightstand nearby, and took him in her arms. He settled in her grasp, his head in her bosom as a rivulet of tears flowed silently down his face.
"Robb, love, what's wrong?" Margaery asked, panicking. Robb's tears only increased at the comforting lilt in her voice, as he stained her nightdress with his tears, and she held him even more securely in her panic.
"Father….father, he…." Robb babbled senselessly, trying to make sense of what he had seen. "They cut his head off, the King, Joffrey, my sisters, I…" and he paused, "...he took my father's head and called it mercy," Robb felt himself intone blankly, though where it had come from, Robb did not know.
Margaery shushed him, soothing her husband with soft whispers and running her hands through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. The feel of her presence in his stopped Robb from having a full blown panic attack, but his breaths were still harsh and ragged to their ears.
"Shhh, love, it's not real, it's not real," Margaery repeated soothingly, but her voice was distant and dumbfounded, he could tell. "Your father is still in Winterfell, he's still here, he's still alive."
Robb could tell that she was trying to convince herself about as much as she was trying to convince him. Her eyes were distant and shocked, his eyes were filled with tears, soaking her shirt, and both Robb and Margaery held each other as the storm in their heart threatened to overwhelm them.
After an hour or so, maybe two, he felt himself ease in the arms of his wife, and her, the same, in his arms. He laughed shakily as they cuddled one another.
"I am sorry to break this moment, but today is the last day before everyone leaves Winterfell," Margaery noted quietly. "We must make a move on to spend as much time with everyone we can before they go."
Suddenly, Robb's mind recalled exactly what was happening today. The king's contingent was planning one final hunt before they were to leave to Kings's Landing, the Tyrell contingent also among them.
"What are we to do?" Robb asked, his voice muffled by his position, in his embrace with his wife.
"We are to spend time with our family, before the hunt starts in earnest," Margaery replied quietly. "You are to join the hunt with Jon, Theon, Domeric, and Arya. Sansa and I are to sup with Willas and Arianne as you all are hunting."
"I…" Robb stammered.
"I don't know if I am up for the hunt after this morning." Robb confessed. "I might stay here, and convince Jon to do the same."
"Whatever you do, you mustn't let Bran out of your sight today, even if it means that you have to take him on the hunt with you," Margaery whispered, fiercely. "I will do my best, but he needs to be accounted for today, of all days. I can't do that alone. You are his older brother, and a person that Bran will follow much easier than Lady Catelyn or I."
There was a strange hint of warning in Margaery's tone. Fear, too, in her tone, which was strange, for she had worried about their siblings, but never before in such a blatant manner, or in that strong of a tone. She grabbed his hand as he looked up into her beautiful brown eyes. She touched their foreheads together, emphasizing her point.
"Repeat it after me, Robb!" Margaery hissed frantically. "You will not let Bran out of your sight today."
"I will not let Bran out of my sight today," Robb repeated dumbly.
She nodded quietly, capturing him in a passionate kiss as a reward. Robb's mind was pleasantly distracted by the sensation. He thought of something else.
"We do not have to sup for another hour or so, correct?" Robb asked curiously, as he held onto his wife. His panic was forgotten in the arms of his love.
"That would be correct," Margaery responded, wryly. She smirked at him with a specific kind of look that set his heart aflame. "Why, do you have plans for us?"
Robb grinned wolfishly, capturing her lips with his.
"Why yes, love, I do indeed have a plan for us."
Robb chuckled lowly at the sound she emitted as a result, and thus, the hour was spent in a much different way than the hour before.
"Bran, you'll be with me today," Robb said, taking Margaery's words into account. He had decided not to go to the hunt today, his mind still somewhat fatigued and traumatized from his horrible dream, and so he decided to stay with Bran. Jon, Theon, Domeric, and Arya were to go on the hunt together, but Robb was perfectly happy with a respite.
He could hunt at any moment, especially as the delegation going North would still be in the North after the departure tomorrow, but he could not spend time with his siblings going South.
It had been decided by Robb's father than Sansa and Bran would be going to King's Landing with him, as a future Queen and knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa would stay in King's Landing until her wedding to Joffrey once they were grown. Bran would squire under Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, alongside Tommen Baratheon, as they grew as knights and young Lords until the day Bran finished squiring. Then, Bran would travel to Greywater Watch to meet his betrothed and prepare for his role as the future Lord of Moat Cailin.
Arya, newly betrothed to Domeric, would foster with Lady Barbery Dustin alongside her betrothed instead of joining her father and siblings south, as Robb's mother had wanted, to get to know the responsibilities of Northern ladies better, and grow into her role as the future Lady of the Dreadfort. Robb's mother had firmly put her foot down at the idea of Arya fostering at the Dreadfort so young, but Lord Bolton had disagreed at the idea of Arya fostering in Bear Island, so Arya and Domeric had given both parties a compromise by fostering under Domeric's beloved aunt, Lady Barbery. Mother had still insisted on guards, as it was somewhat well-known that Lady Dustin had no real favor for Catelyn Stark, but the terms were easily haggled with, so they had agreed.
Finally, the biggest surprise had been Jon Stark, newly legitimized on the order of the king. Robb's words had truly been prophetic, as the moment the Stark-Tyrell wedding had ended, Jon's official legitimization had been announced, as well as his betrothal to Lady Wynafryd Manderly of White Harbor. Jon had wept openly at the declaration, profusely thanking Father and Mother and swearing repeatedly to serve House Stark to the best of his ability. He was to spend time working with Lord Wyman and Ser Wylis Manderly, to learn about the responsibilities that came with a Lord Consort of White Harbor, and Wynafryd and Jon would decide amongst themselves as to which responsibilities they would undertake in ruling White Harbor, because of the unconventional nature of their relationship.
Though Sansa had been a bit put out that Jon would not go South and become Sansa's sworn shield and Kingsguard, as Sansa had originally planned, Jon assured his sister that there were plenty of men willing to take up the same role and to protect her better than himself. With that, Lord Manderly necessitated Jon to foster in White Harbor to learn the skills he would need to assist his betrothed in ruling White Harbor, and developing a reputation in his own right.
Of course, other agreements between House Tyrell and House Baratheon were forged in the aftermath of the wedding. King Robert had grudgingly agreed to a betrothal between Ser Garlan and Princess Myrcella Baratheon, with the stipulation that Myrcella was to foster in Highgarden under the careful supervision of the Kingsguard knights Arys Oakheart after six moonturns from the arrival of House Stark to King's Landing. In this way, it would give Myrcella time to prepare for her leaving King's Landing, and it gave Garlan time to prepare for the future. Robb's good-father had been absolutely ecstatic, puffing up every time someone mentioned the union between Tyrell and Baratheon, but only time would tell as to how that would turn out.
His wife had been particularly unsurprised at the union, and only smirked when she heard the news, which Robb knew meant that it had been a part of her plans. As to what end those plans were for, Robb did not know, but he supported his wife as best as he could, in those endeavors.
Still, it meant that House Stark, the Pack, was separating. Father, Sansa, and Bran were going South; Jon and Arya were staying North but fostering somewhere else, and only Mother, him, Margaery, and baby Rickon would be in Winterfell, still, but even Mother would be leaving after six moonturns to join Father in King's Landing, when she felt as though Margaery was ready to take over her duties from her. That thought left him with a sense of melancholy, but Margaery had assured him that they would fill the halls with their own children soon enough.
With the knowledge that House Stark would be separating to fulfill their given duties, each of the Stark siblings took great pains to spend time with one another before each sibling would embark on their own journey to grow into the people they wanted to become.
Because of this, Bran was very pleased to soak in as much time with his older brother as possible before he left. Bran had no problem with this at all, chatting eagerly with Robb about the sights he would be experiencing in King's Landing with Tommen, and how eager he was to see the new world opening up for him, and to become a knight of renown and valor.
Robb leaned down quietly to his brother to whisper in his ear.
"Sansa, Margaery, and I are to sup with Willas and Arianne soon, when the King's party leaves for the hunt. I hope you don't mind that." Robb whispered quietly.
"Of course I don't mind, Robb, it'll be so much fun hearing about Dorne!" Bran exclaimed cheerfully. "Besides, I'm sure the king will have loads of hunts in King's Landing."
"Good," Robb said, ruffling his younger brother's hair. "Now, let's get a move on to greet the departing party, we've got a lunch to attend."
"Ooh, the lamb has a bit of a spicy kick to it!" Margaery said bashfully, her face reddening as she tasted some Dornish food prepared by the cooks at Princess Arianne's request. Grey Wind, Lady, and Bran's as-of-yet unnamed direwolf stood attentively when they weren't gnawing at the meats the cooks had prepared for them, watching their owners vigilantly.
Princess Arianne laughed at Margaery's comment, her voice almost tinkling like bells as she leaned into her husband.
Willas and Arianne were a well matched couple, in Robb's eyes. Robb's good brother was tall, with a shade of skin more tan than Robb's wife, but he shared the same brown eyes, brown hair, and fair look as his sister. Willas still held a very fit physique, with years of hawking and running giving him light scars on his shoulder, somewhat covered by his shirt. He had a calm, placid disposition honed from years of experience, seeming like he would be relaxed even in a dangerous situation, but that disposition hid the same kind of gleaming eyes Robb saw in Margaery when she planned something devious.
His wife, Arianne, was a different story entirely. Arianne was short, but she was beautiful, with olive skin bronzed in the Dornish sun, dark eyes, and dark hair. Her curvaceous body was only enhanced by the finery of the clothing she wore, as she effortlessly maneuvered around the lunch. Arianne's confidence was clear, and her boldness and extroversion complemented well with Willas's internal calm, even if both were the same type of calculating.
At a casual glance, the only indication of Willas's condition was Arianne's tendency to move things around for her husband, and almost imperceptible winces of pain that occurred when Willas held an object, like a spoon, for too long. It was clear to see the ease of interaction the pair had with one another, and the warm comfort of a long marriage was a thought that filled Robb's heart as he stared fondly at his newlywed wife.
Will we be as comfortable as those two, one day?
"Just like your brother said," Arianne japed at Willas. "A bit of a kick! Well, his tongue certainly burnt and did a lot more when we really got a chance to test the Dornish kick."
Robb's face went aflame, understanding the implications of Arianne's words. Willas smiled at his wife, a twinkle in his eyes as she got his message to tone it down. His arms shook, reminding Robb of the accident that had befallen Willas as a child.
Mayhaps I will need to cover Bran's ears through all this.
Sansa sighed dreamily. "You must be so happy with your husband, Princess Arianne, and you rule over such an important part of the Seven Kingdoms too?" She gushed.
Arianne grinned. "Why, Willas certainly keeps me happy in Dorne, and between that and helping Father rule Dorne, I am certainly blessed. Any proper lord husband should take tips from mine own."
She smirked at her good-sister, lightly rubbing at her belly, before shooting a heated look at her husband that he returned. Willas lightly touched her arm with his, attempting to mask his equally heated look toward her with a pleasant smile, and calm demeanor.
By the Old Gods, it is certainly awkward sitting in the same room with them, the way that they flirt with each other. They must do things very differently in Dorne.
"What do you think, Margaery?" Arianne asked provocatively, leaning her body across her husband to stare at her good sister. "Does your Wolf need some tips from Willas? We can certainly arrange for it."
"Arianne!" Margaery said, exasperated. "Robb certainly keeps me happy! There's no need for...ah..that." Her already red face turned crimson out of embarrassment, causing Sansa to giggle.
"Embarrassed, sister?" Arianne asked teasingly, moving her arm to casually flick Margaery's nose. Robb's wife groaned in annoyance, trying valiantly to keep calm and not die of embarrassment. She leaned into Robb, burrowing her face into his chest, allow Robb to appreciate the warmth of her body by his.
Good. I am glad Margaery is...ah, happy, with my performance.
Robb's face turned crimson to reflect that thought.
"Robb? What exactly are you all talking about?" Bran piped up, curiously, with the innocence that only a child of seven name-days could provide. "Shouldn't Margaery already be happy with you? Or do you need to make Robb happier in Winterfell?
At the absurdity of the statement, and of Bran's innocent take on the situation, everyone else burst out into uncontrollable laughter.
Tears leaked out of Margaery's eyes as she laughed so hard she pounded the table with her fists, crying. Robb threw back his head and laughed, and Sansa along with him, hurriedly wiping away her tears of mirth. Willas shook with mirth, steadying himself on his wife, who was also well on her way to sobbing laughter. Poor Bran stood there watching his siblings and good siblings laugh, unsure of what he did to cause it.
Eventually, Sansa wiped away her tears. "Seven, I needed that," she said, still giggling. "I will need to come to Dorne one day, if all lunches are like this."
"We would love to host you, Lady Sansa", Willas responded lightly, looking askance at his lady wife. "Any family of my sweet sister's is blood of my blood, after all." Arianne nodded at Willas, and affixed her gaze to Sansa.
"Speaking of hosting, you are to leave to King's Landing, correct?" Arianne asked with falsely-light cheer.
"Why, yes, I—" Sansa began, but Arianne cut her off.
"You know, Loras will be in King's Landing, and I know he aims to be a valiant knight." Arianne remarked.
Sansa brightened. "Oh yes, Loras—"
"King's Landing can be a very dangerous place for princesses, Lady Sansa, and not all knights can protect you," Arianne continued, her voice taking a dangerous undertone Robb wasn't sure he liked. "I say this not to scare you, but to warn you. My Aunt Elia was in King's Landing and she found out the hard way, you know."
"Your Aunt Elia? As in La— Princess Elia Martell?" Sansa asked, her voice suddenly becoming small.
"Yes, Lady Sansa, my aunt, Elia Martell," Arianne murmured sadly. "As we are all one big extended family, I want to make sure that you are safe and prepared. I think everyone knows the story of Elia Martell, no?"
Sansa nodded quietly, listening to Arianne speak. Something in the atmosphere had changed, growing more and more tense with every moment. Robb stood quietly and listened, unsure of what he was to do, and Bran curled quietly into his brother.
"Allow me to refresh you, if you will." Arianne began. "My aunt Elia was murdered by the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, her guards nowhere to be found. The sacking of King's Landing was a terrible thing indeed, and the dragons, all gone."
Robb saw Sansa's face rapidly paling at Arianne's reminder, as she stared at his sister very intently.
"My cousin, Rhaenys, was found under her bed, stabbed with half a hundred thrusts of a knife." Arianne hissed, her voice passionate and lost in grief. "And the babe, his head—-"
"Arianne, that's enough!" Willas commanded her firmly. Arianne cut her statement short, looking at Sansa and appearing to be profusely apologetic at the state she had driven Sansa too.
Arianne gently grabbed Sansa's hands to soothe Sansa, who was, at this point, on the verge of tears.
"Neither Willas or I would want to hear about the next Princess-to-be suffering a similar fate, especially another princess so near and dear to our hearts," Arianne cautioned. "You must trust us and allow us to help you as best as we can, if anything happens at all. House Martell looks out for our own, and by virtue of Margaery, you are one of ours now, for better or worse. Do you understand, Sansa?"
Sansa nodded weakly, squeezing Arianne's palms in assent. Even if Sansa wasn't technically a princess, Sansa had apparently received Arianne's message. It was clear that between Margaery's repeated warnings and Arianne's speech, she was shaken.
Margaery sighed forlornly as she saw everyone's tense postures.
"I'm sorry, this was supposed to be a peaceful lunch, and here we have gone and ruined it," Margaery noted sadly.
"No, I—" Sansa interjected. "It's okay, Margaery, Arianne is right."
Sansa squared herself up in determination before releasing a shaky breath. "These are things I need to know."
Margaery nodded sadly.
"If we were able to avoid this, we could, but we cannot, for it is the unfortunate truth of our world", Margaery murmured quietly. "If there is any one final piece of advice I could give you and Bran before you are to leave to King's Landing, it is this:"
Sansa and Bran perked up at attention.
"Trust no one, save for your family, until you are absolutely certain of their loyalty towards you," Margaery said fiercely. "Nobody, Sansa, not even the Queen or Prince Joffrey—"
Sansa's lips opened in protestations, and Margaery easily cut her off.
"Or even Prince Tommen, Bran—"
Bran looked at the ground, contemplating this new piece of information.
"The Game of Thrones is a brutal thing; it opens its maw and spits anything and everything out," Margaery lectured. "There is a reason your Lady Mother has prepared all of those political lessons for you, Sansa. Your father will protect you, and Loras, when your father is not available, but you must trust in their judgement until you are married, and skilled enough to play the Game in your own right, for it may be the difference between life and death one day. Do you understand?"
Sansa nodded, and Bran mimicked his sister's actions. Willas's eyebrows raised.
"You've taken lessons from grandmother in lecturing, I see," Willas commented lightly.
"Yes, I have, brother." Margaery affirmed. "Robb, could you escort Sansa and Bran outside? There are some things I need to discuss with Willas and Arianne alone."
Robb wanted to protest this, but Margaery shot him a desperate look, hinting at the fact that she would explain the situation later, but that Sansa and Bran needed to be out of the room and supervised. With that same look, Robb nodded quietly, quickly kissing his wife, before he motioned for Sansa and Bran to follow him out into the tilt yard. It would be good for them to explore more of Winterfell before the end of the day today.
After that disquieting lunch, Robb, Sansa, and Bran spent their time exploring Winterfell, before Sansa and Bran were to leave. Bran wanted to climb around Winterfell to practice his "scaling" skills, or what Robb privately thought that was just Bran's excuse for finding his favorite spots, but between Robb and Sansa, they escorted Bran through many adventures that did not require Bran to climb.
At one point, Bran had gotten away from him, and Robb, mindful of Margaery's frantic warnings, went with Sansa to look for their wayward younger brother, They found Bran, about to climb the Broken Tower in the First Keep, but Robb shouted at Bran to come down and to come back to Robb and Sansa before he could actually climb the Broken Tower. Bran shuffled guiltily at the stern look at Robb's face, running back to his brother, and Sansa led the way to escort the two brothers to the kitchens to supply her with her customary habits of sneaking out lemon-cakes.
Eventually, Robb ended up escorting Sansa and Bran to say goodbye to everyone else in Winterfell, as the responsible older brother her was, giving them the chance to visit Old Nan (who told him to be wary of crows), Mikken, Hullen, Maester Luwin, and he even got a chance to bring them both down to the crypts to let them honor the Stark Lords of old. One momentous pause in the crypt allowed for Robb to sneak behind a statue and appear out of it to frighten Sansa and Bran just like in the days of old, causing Sansa to shriek loudly and slap Robb's shoulder and Bran to clutch onto Sansa, terrified.
Robb then escorted his siblings to their rooms, reminding them to pack before they were to sup, but all three siblings were distracted when the hunt arrived early.
They ran out to the courtyard to greet Arya, Jon, and Theon, flushed with the victory of the hunt. Apparently, King Robert had found a boar much faster than usual, and proceeded to kill it swiftly, with the help of his Kingsguard. It was a larger boar too, or so Arya boasted, large enough to serve as a feast. Theon had lamented that it had taken too long with such a large group of people, but Robb laughed and reassured him that there would be more chances to hunt boar in the future.
Margaery had rushed out too, her talk with Willas and Arianne long finished. When she joined Robb, she kissed him in elation, which wasn't something Robb hadn't minded, at first, but it had confused Robb.
"He's safe! Oh, good job, love!" Margaery exclaimed to Robb as she hugged him.
"Safe? You mean Bran? Or did you mean the hunting?" Robb asked in confusion.
"Never mind that, love, do not worry your pretty head about it. Let us sup in the Great Hall to celebrate this joyous occasion!" Margaery exulted.
Robb sighed, looking at Margaery. It was clear that there was something she wasn't telling him, but—
"The things I do for love", Robb heard a voice speak again, as his brother screamed and a sickening crack filled Robb's ears.
Robb stared at his environment, alarmed. He looked quietly at Margaery.
"Did you hear someone scream?" Robb asked hastily.
"I—" Margaery stammered. "No love, I did not, is everything alright? You've been off all day."
"I—" Robb took a shaky breath. "Let's just go to the Great Hall," he said, defeated. He began his walk, until he saw Father, who had been walking quietly by King Robert, move to approach Robb and Margaery.
"Robb, Margaery, you will arrive at my solar after dinner. There are a few things we need to discuss with the two of you," Father told him and Margaery.
Both Robb and Margaery nodded.
"We will do so, Lord Stark," Margaery said.
Father laughed nervously. "You are free to call this old lord Father if you'd like, Margaery. You are also free to call his young, beautiful wife Mother as well."
His wife beamed at her good-father.
"Thank you, Father!" Margaery responded happily.
They walked to the Great Hall to celebrate the hunt.
"I wonder what your father is calling us for," Margaery pondered curiously.
"I'm not sure, but I suppose we are to find out," Robb answered quietly, as they waited in front of the solar. Grey Wind loyally waited besides them, nuzzling Margaery's legs and causing her to giggle as they waited.
Suddenly, the doors opened, and Robb's brother, Jon, walked out of the solar, pale-faced, and shaken, almost as if he had heard something secret. It could very well have been, for the doors of the solar were thick, did not carry much sound, and were well-guarded, something that Robb had known from experience when he had tried to spy on his father's solar to ensure he would be betrothed to Margaery. Suddenly, his mind rebelled at the sight of Jon, and a haze descended over Robb.
"Promise me, Ned," Robb heard a voice saying weakly, faint as a whisper. A bed of blood and blue roses flashed before Robb's eyes as he saw a man looking like Jon shaking his shoulders in grief.
Grey Wind pawed nervously at Robb, and as Robb felt his direwolf's touch, he shuddered, snapping back into reality. Where had that voice and vision come from?
At this point, Margaery had been speaking softly with Jon, and his face gained a less pallid disposition while he considered her words. They embraced one another, allowing Robb the chance to easily join in on the embrace between Robb's brother and Robb's wife, and they all held one other for a long while, until Robb heard his father speak.
"COME IN!" Robb heard his father speak. He reluctantly untangled himself from the pile of hugs, and Jon and Margaery did the same.
"Onward you go, Stark," Jon muttered quietly. "Un—"
Jon stopped himself in the middle of his speech, paling, before he corrected himself. "Father has a need for you, it seems", Jon finished half-heartedly.
Robb looked at his brother comfortingly. "Go on and pack, Stark. You've got a long trip tomorrow."
Jon nodded, and waved at them, and turned back around to head back to his quarters. He had been using Uncle Benjen's old quarters, since Mother had begun to treat Jon like another son, and so he had to pack his stuff for his trip to White Harbor.
Robb and Margaery took this cue to enter Father and Mother's solar, greeting them. Robb noticed that his father and mother's eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed, and he gave his beloved wife a look that she returned. Both of them knew something suspicious had happened, but neither commented.
"Son. Good-daughter." Father began, "As you know, I am to leave to King's Landing tomorrow, and your mother will stay here in Winterfell with you."
"However, as you both know, I am only to stay in Winterfell until you, good-daughter, are prepared to take up the mantle as acting Lady of Winterfell, in the same way as Robb will be taking on the mantle of acting Lord of Winterfell," Mother continued, with Robb and Margaery both nodding in assent.
"With that being said, we wanted to call you both to the solar to discuss a few things of note before we slowly transition you two into a position leading Winterfell and the North," Father added. "Both of you are already very prepared, but we must talk about your new schedules and your new responsibilities." Robb, you will stay here with me. Catelyn, would you mind talking to our good-daughter separately about her new roles and responsibilities?"
Mother nodded, and she motioned at Margaery to follow her to the adjoining room, next to the solar. Him and Father sat across from one another alone, a table separating them. Father sighed.
"How are you feeling, Robb?" Father asked wearily.
"...I'm scared," Robb admitted. "Even wedded and bedded, I still feel as though I am a green boy. Ruling over the North is a daunting prospect."
Ned nodded at his son.
"Fear is normal, son." He said. "I was the second son to my Father, and I was hardly ready, myself, to inherit the role of Winterfell. But I know you can do it, and I know you will be prepared to uphold the mantle of the Stark of Winterfell."
Robb nodded hesitantly.
"I just wish we didn't all have to go." Robb admitted softly. "But I know we must, to fulfill the roles we were trained to and bring honor as Starks of Winterfell. But why does that make it so hard?"
"It is perfectly normal to feel uncertain in the face of change," Father noted calmly. "But as a father, and as a Lord, I am certain that you are ready to find your way, at least until I get back. Your mother and your clever wife will help you along the way."
Father paused briefly, seemingly coming to a decision before Robb's eyes, and began to speak.
"With that said, as I am going south to King's Landing, I will be entrusting you with our ancestral sword, Ice." Father explained solemnly. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and you will be the Stark in Winterfell as of tomorrow. Please unbuckle your sword and place it on the table."
Robb nodded, standing up and hurriedly unbuckling his sword and sheath from its place, to lay it comfortably on the table.
"This sword was my sword before Ice," Father reminisced fondly. "It certainly served me through a great number of battles. It'll be good to wear this while I am South."
Father handed Ice, in its sheath, and smiled at his son.
"You will wear this as the Stark of Winterfell, at least until I get back," Father said. "Take good care of it, my son."
Robb nodded, and his father outstretched his arms for a hug that Robb happily took. Eventually, the door to the adjoining room opened, and Mother and Margaery walked in.
"Father, before we go, I need to tell you some things you will need to know before you go South," Margaery told Ned.
Ned looked at her curiously, and Margaery took this as her cue to speak.
"Grandmother says to be wary of Lord Baelish—"
"Little Petyr? But certainly not, he's like a brother to me—" Mother interrupted her, before Father raised his hand in an interjection.
"Peace, Catelyn." Father replied. "We must hear what she has to say."
"Lord Baelish is not the man you once know, Mother, he is dangerous," Margaery elaborated wearily. "As you know, Lord Baelish is the Master of Coin. The Iron Throne currently owes more than 1 million golden dragons to House Tyrell, and more to House Lannister, by Grandmother's last count—"
"One million golden dragons? Surely Petyr wouldn't allow Crown finances to come to that!" Mother interrupted.
"Unfortunately, it has. Loras has also told me of terrible rumors about Lord Baelish in King's Landing, about his brothel businesses."
"Brothel businesses? The Petyr I knew would never do that!" Mother asked, horrified.
Robb's wife sighed. "Yes. Lord Baelish runs a chain of brothels, and Loras said he wasn't certain if the ladies of the brothels were there willfully. I am not certain, Mother, that Lord Baelish is the same man you may have once known. As for the other bit…" Margaery continued.
There's more?
"Grandmother says that whatever you are looking for, into House Lannister, House Tyrell will help as best as we can, given the circumstances," Margaery stated calmly. "Personally, I have told Loras to assist you in any way he can. You are our family now, Father, and we will not allow you to enter King's Landing defenseless."
Mother and Father gave one another a look, before Father nodded.
"You have given me a lot to think about, good-daughter," Father replied, tiredly. "I will keep this into consideration. Now, why don't you two get some rest? Tomorrow will be a long day, after all."
The next day came bright and early, filled with tears and smiles alike, and the combined Stark-Tyrell-Martell families, alongside the King's delegation, were scheduled to return to the South.
"Please stay safe, brother. I could hardly bear it if you were not," Robb told Jon seriously.
"Don't worry Stark, I will be safe and happy in White Harbor," Jon replied, as they clasped one another in a hug. "Besides, I need to prepare for you becoming my liege lord, isn't that right?"
"I'll call the banners to get you home if anything goes wrong," Robb teased his brother.
Margaery was saying goodbye to her brothers tearfully, and Mother had accosted Sansa and Bran for a proper goodbye. Eventually though, all goodbyes had to come to an end, and it was Robb, holding Margaery, as his throat constricted into an unsettling feeling as he watched his siblings, good-siblings, and Father move Southward. Mother held Rickon as she cried, watching her whole family leave save for him, Margaery, and Rickon.
"I will be going to the Godswood to pray for the continued health of our family," Robb told Margaery, quietly. He had never been particularly pious, but he hoped that the Old Gods would bless his family and keep them safe with his prayer. "Would you like to come along?"
"Certainly!" Margaery replied, kissing him and interlocking his arms with her. She furrowed her brow as they walked, and her free hand touched his forehead, noticing how high of a temperature it was.
"You're burning up, Robb, are you sure you're alright?" Margaery asked, hastily.
"I'm fine, my love." Robb replied. He hadn't even noticed how high his temperature was.
Once they entered the Godswood and sat near the Heart Tree, Robb began his prayer.
"Old Gods, please protect my family in the South from the dangers of the world, and bring them back to Winterfell safely. Let Jon and Arya find happiness at their destinations, and let Margaery and I live our lives in peace and harmony. Give me the strength to create peace for House Stark, if necessary," Robb prayed.
Suddenly, Robb felt a strange calling.
"It is time, Young Wolf," the voice that haunted Robb's dreams said. "You are ready".
And Robb felt himself falling, and falling.
"Marge—" he stammered, suddenly feeling dizzy and like he was about to collapse. "I'm not—"
He swayed, as the alien awareness filled him, and the grey mist filled his eyes, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
"Time to fly, Young Wolf," the voice said smugly.
"Feel—" he panted dizzily, "Well—"
"ROBB!" he heard Margaery scream distantly, as he collapsed in front of the Heart Tree in Winterfell's Godswood, sinking himself into the grey mist.
END OF ARC 2: WINTERFELL
A/N: Every action in this story has an equal and opposite consequence, and Margaery's preventing Bran's fall has led to an equal and opposite consequence in Robb contracting a deadly fever and replacing Bran by taking on a role necessary in the Seven Kingdoms anyways. Bloodraven had plans for Bran, and unfortunately, all plans can collapse. Expect the next arc: King's Landing, to begin offering contrasting storylines, as the Starks struggle to grapple with the changed world they have been thrust into, and its consequences. Next, an interlude from Sansa!
