A/N: Quick turnaround, but the writing bug got me, so here it is. We're starting with Margaery's POV, and Robb's will follow next chapter, as they have many needed conversations, a few arguments, and prepare for the meeting with the banners, as the North figures out what the hell to do when a repeat of Rickard and Bran's capture occurs. Man, the name Bran really is cursed, huh?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from ASOIAF or HBO's show. Season 8 would be better if that were the case, seriously.
The day the letters reached Winterfell was the day I knew everything had changed.
King's Landing had exploded in a spectacular way, and save for the wildfire that laid below its surface, I knew that the chaos in King's Landing would not stop until a winner was declared. The Realm itself would feel the after-effects of the past few days for years.
To my horror, the help that Grandmother and I had provided backfired in a spectacular way - Ned Stark had figured out the clues too quickly, and there had been too many changes. The Freys had delayed the King's party too long for the Tourney of the Hand to occur, and the clues that my good-father had possessed allowed him to solve the puzzle earlier than expected.
We had first learned that King Robert had passed through a proclamation sent to all of the Great Houses. An assassination in the midst of a Small Council meeting, most likely by poison. That had surprised me, as in canon, Robert had been slain in the midst of a boar hunt gone wrong. Then came the bombshell of Ned Stark's letter.
My good-father had revealed everything in his letter to House Stark. The writing was hasty, the letter was rushed, but in it, he had outlined a sordid tale of plots and conclusions that could be summarized into the following:
1. The Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn, based on the testimony of Ser Hugh, and other pieces of evidence. (Incorrect, actually, but Ser Hugh was most likely Littlefinger's plant, and would, of course, feed my good-father false information.)
2. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were not of King Robert's seed, but rather, an incestuous union between Jaime and Cersei Lannister, which was why Stannis Baratheon and Jon Arryn had fled. (Same as canon, so no real difference.)
3. The Lannisters, specifically Queen Cersei, had murdered King Robert in a Small Council meeting discussing the assassination of Daenerys and her unborn child, of all things. (Ironic, but the implications of that worried me. Wasn't the assassination attempt important to Daenery's plotline, and the subsequent birth of the dragons? I would have to listen to whispers to figure out more.)
4. Loras, Renly, and Sansa had escaped to Highgarden, but Bran had not. The entire Northern household would flee as fast as possible, and would either be aboard a ship headed to White Harbor at the time of the letter's delivery, or be captured by the Lannisters. (I breathed a sigh of relief at Loras and Sansa's escape, but worried for Bran and my good-father. If the Gods were good, they would be home, but knowing the world of Planetos, they were most likely captured.)
Interestingly enough, the letter had not a word about who to declare for, when in canon, my good-father and House Stark would have been natural, almost honor-bound to become allies to Stannis Baratheon. If my suspicions were correct, Grandmother had somehow hinted at her knowledge of Jon Snow's heritage, and the threat that the Stags would most likely be to that heritage, which was bloody obvious, in my mind, but for honorable Ned Stark, must have been a difficult pill to swallow. All of this would have been fine, until the next day, where another letter had arrived.
Robb,
Our good King Robert is dead, killed from an assassin's poison. Father has been charged with treason. He conspired with Robert's brothers to steal the throne from King Joffrey and Prince Tommen. The Lannisters are treating me very well, with every comfort. I beg you; come to King's Landing and swear fealty to King Joffrey and prevent strife between the great Houses Stark and Lannister.
Your faithful brother,
Bran
All of which led me to the situation I was in currently - in the Lord's solar with Robb, Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin, discussing the contents of the letter.
"Treason? The Lannisters have captured Bran? Why would they make him write this letter?" Robb asked, incredulously.
"It is in your brother's hand, but with the Queen's words," Maester Luwin remarked calmly.
"Look, he even managed to send us a message in his letter through the inkblots!" I noted.
My clever good-brother had managed to blot the ink of certain letters much darker than the other letters in the letter, and perhaps to Cersei's untrained eye, that may have been the imperfections of a child of eight still learning to write letters. In reality, though, those inkblots spelled out a single word. A single word detailing his situation as clearly as anyone could see.
H-O-S-T-A-G-E
"It says 'hostage'", Lady Catelyn murmured, paling. "What level of depravity has Cersei Lannister sunk to, to force a young boy to write such? And she expects us to believe it? Oh, Bran…"
"Joffrey puts my father in chains, and forces my brother to write such words, now he wants his ass kissed?" Robb questioned, even more incredulously.
"If he thought this would actually work, then he is dumber than I thought," I added. "Most likely, this is Cersei's method of attempting to de-escalate, the, ah, pardon my words, Lady Catelyn, shitshow, that has been unleashed with her hasty actions."
Lady Catelyn didn't even comment, a testament to how absurd the situation was.
"This is a royal command, my lord," Maester Luwin addressed Robb. "If you should refuse to obey…"
"I won't refuse," Robb interrupted, his blue eyes hard. "If His Grace expects me to go to King's Landing, I will go to King's Landing, but not alone. Call the banners."
"All of them, my lord?" Maester Luwin asked.
"All of them. They are sworn to my father and House Stark, are they not? We will see what their words are worth."
Maester Luwin nodded, and began his walk to the rookery to write the letters. Sensing my husband;s nervousness, I grabbed my husband's hand and stood with him, my eyes firm. His hand intertwined with mine almost instantaneously, and I could feel him relaxing at my touch.
"And my Father will summon House Tyrell and the might of the Reach with them, my love," I added. "With a hundred thousand men, and the might of the North, we will write a song of House Lannister's destruction. But the implications…"
"What implications, Margaery?" Robb asked
"I should like to hear these implications as well, good-daughter," Lady Catelyn stated.
"Robert's Rebellion started with the unlawful arrest and execution of a father and son of House Stark - a great Lord, no less. And now, a generation later, the same has happened to another father and son of House Stark under the rule of the Iron Throne." I noted. "Correct me if I am wrong, but that doesn't seem like something the North would take lightly. Even if only two incidents have happened and we, let's say, assume that these are freak events, what does that tell the North about future rule under the Iron Throne? The North will not bow. Not ever again."
"You're talking about secession, of Northern independence…" Robb realized, in awe and fear.
"The North may not bow, but that does not mean we are likely to crown ourselves," Lady Catelyn rebutted quickly. "Mayhaps the North will crown Stannis Baratheon, as the rightful King under the Iron Throne."
"If Stannis is crowned, what of Jon?" I asked my good-mother, pointedly.
"Jon?" She asked, paling slightly. "What does Jon have to do with the succession?"
"Robb and I know, good-mother. We know of Jon's true heritage." I said quietly.
"We do?" Robb whispered to me, confused. I sighed. I loved my husband, but sometimes…
"Your visions, Robb. The bed of blood and blue roses, and the promise," I whispered quietly in response to him, exasperated. "You told me he was named Aemon."
"Ah, yes, of course, we do know, mother." Robb said seriously, acting as if he had known the entire time.
Lady Catelyn raised an eyebrow, but she concealed her panic well with disbelief.
"What do you think you know?"
"Jon Snow, actually Aemon….Sand? Is either the trueborn son or bastard of Lyanna Stark and Rhae-" I recited.
"Enough!" Lady Catelyn interrupted, paling. "If anyone heard, Jon would…"
"..not face any consequences, considering that we are literally planning to rebel against the Throne right now?" I finished, sardonically. "I didn't want to have to say it, but if we are going to be rebels, let us do it right."
My good-mother's face turned as white as the snow outside.
"How do you know?"
Shit. I couldn't explain that I knew because I had supernatural knowledge of, well, Westeros, and knew that R + L = J because of Jon's looks and Catelyn's treatment of him, if I didn't have any solid leads. Otherwise, that would really put me under suspicion.
Robb noticed my hesitation and stepped up to the plate, bless him.
"I...Mother, in my coma, I had visions. It wasn't actually a coma, it was green-dreams. One of those green-dreams showed Father talking to Aunt Lyanna at her death-bed, and that she named him Aemon. I told Margaery my suspicions and we connected the dots."
"Green-dreaming?" If anything, Lady Catelyn looked even paler at the thought of her eldest son becoming a green-seer.
"The day before Robb fell upon his coma, Robb and I talked to Jon on our way to see you and Lord Stark. Jon almost referred to Lord Stark as something other than "Father", but corrected himself. I had thought that it was strange, at first, and probably would have just ordinarily dismissed it as just a slip of the tongue, but then the vision placed things into perspective. Jon was about to say "Uncle", and that would only make sense if he was the baby in the vision and had been told the truth, which was likely, because he had seemed panicked when we had talked to him. I won't do anything to endanger my good-brother and House Stark, if that is what you are worried about, but staying under the rule of House Baratheon would only mean danger to Jon in the future." I deduced, giving Robb a significant look that he returned.
"Danger? It was concealed, and could be concealed still-"
"-until Jon has a baby of silver-white hair and purple eyes, detailing the classic Valyrian look." I interjected. "Jon may have gotten his looks entirely from Lady Lyanna, but that does not mean that in the future, his children wouldn't have the Targaryen look. If his child or grandchild held that look, we would be in danger."
"We could just claim that it was the Dayne look," my good-mother pressed, desperately. "Ashara Dayne was rumored to be in love with my husband, after all."
"The timelines don't match up, Lady Catelyn," I replied quietly. "Forgive me if I am telling the histories wrong, but it was said that Lord Stark danced with Ashara Dayne at the Tourney of Harrenhal. If Jon was older than Robb, it would make sense, but we both know he wasn't. I tried to work out that possibility, but anyone with knowledge of Robert's Rebellion would be able to see it. Even the suspicion of a pretender, after the incident in King's Landing, would force Stannis to act in response as quickly as possible, and most likely, declare war on the North in the process. That isn't even beginning to touch on Northern response to the outrage happening before us - what guarantees do they, and we have, that Stannis Baratheon's child won't do the same thing, another generation later?"
"You are only saying this because you want to be Queen. House Tyrell has always insisted to be connected to royalty, so you attempt to turn my son into a king for your own gain-" Lady Catelyn insisted in panic.
"Come now, good-mother. If I had wanted to be Queen, I would have betrothed myself to that fool Joffrey, rather than to Robb. I love your son, Lady Catelyn, and I want to be with him, regardless of whether he were the King on the Iron Throne, or if we were to lose everything and be forced to live as exiles in Essos together." I said firmly. "I only bring this up because we must be prepared for the backlash, and we must consider the consequences of our actions correctly, if we mean to keep our heads and remain as rulers of the North."
Lady Catelyn sighed, looking down into the ground in contemplation. Poor Robb looked as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to run away at the confrontation between good-mother and wife. Eventually, Lady Catelyn offered a shaky smile as a peace offering and opened up her arms for a hug.
I smiled, releasing Robb's hand and hugged my good-mother firmly.
"I am sorry for my words, Margaery." Lady Catelyn said regretfully. "You did not deserve that."
"No apology is necessary, Mother." I replied. "You were only trying to protect Robb, and truth be told, he could use some protection sometimes. Right, Grey Wind?"
Grey Wind barked happily before going to his master, causing all of us to laugh.
"Traitor," Robb teased his direwolf, and just like that, the mood was gone.
"What do we do now?" Lady Catelyn asked.
"We wait. The banners will come, and we can decide then." I said, and Robb nodded firmly in agreement.
"Then this meeting is adjourned. Mother, why don't you go check on Rickon? It would do you some good to be near him." Robb suggested.
"How are you feeling about these letters? Are you afraid?" I asked, later on, once we had adjourned the meeting to our bedroom. I leaned into his chest, as he wrapped me into his arms.
"I-" Robb hesitated.
"To be honest, I am terrified for Father and Bran. How could the Lannisters do such a thing?" He asked faintly.
"The cold, hard truth is that your Father, Sansa, and Bran stumbled upon plots already set in place that could undo the realm, and you know that House Lannister will stop at nothing for the Throne. They just happened to be caught in the crossfire." I replied quietly. "But even so, that does not diminish the danger that they are currently in, or the worry you feel, my love. Fear is normal in the face of such overwhelming situations."
Robb paused, hugging me tighter. I could feel his arms shaking as he hugged me, holding tightly onto me, as if he feared I would be lost to the winds too. Sometimes I forgot how young he was, how young we both were, really - even if I was mentally older than fourteen, my body, my brain chemistry, my emotions - they were all those of a lady of four-and-ten.
"Did...he, have to deal with this too? The other Robb, I mean?"
"The other Robb had to deal with the capture of his Father, Sansa, and Arya for the same reasons. He also called the banners, and I know he had been afraid when he had done so."
"And….Old Gods, the execution. Margaery, the Lannisters will murder Father. I saw it, I saw them behead him, I saw it…"
And Robb burst into tears, remembering the situation. "They could...they could do it again." he finished, in a broken voice. I did the only thing I could; I hugged him tight and let the man I love cry in my arms, soothing him with my presence and my words.
Intellectually, I knew that the Lannisters were out for blood, and it was very likely that Ned Stark would die, knowing that Joffrey would act stupidly, but knowing things from an intellectual standpoint didn't diminish from the emotion. My good-father and good-brother were captured, toys of the Lannister. And all because I had sped up the game, had warned Grandmother to take steps and act proactively. If I had just waited or confessed everything, we would be safe in Winterfell. If only I hadn't been so stupid.
I knew I wasn't supposed to cry, and that I was supposed to soothe Robb, but tears betrayed me as they rolled down my face as well. And so there we were, crying in our bed, holding one another for real life, as we processed the gigantic bombshell that had hit us. Time was immemorial in that moment - we could have been there for minutes, hours, days...who knows how long? We held onto one another, the only real thing in a cruel world, and in my gut, I know these days would come more often than not in the future.
Suddenly, I felt a furry presence on our bed, and a little snuffle. Evidently, Grey Wind had noticed our sadness, and had wanted to comfort us by nosing into us. Robb laughed at the sensation of Grey Wind licking his face, and I smiled, petting the direwolf that loved us so.
"Oh Grey Wind, we love you too," I remarked fondly, as he also happily licked my face. "Aren't you a little too big to share our bed, though?"
"Grey Wind does as Grey Wind wants," Robb answered equally as fondly. "And he'll fight with me against the Lannisters, won't he, boy?" causing Grey Wind to bark in affirmation.
"And I'll be with you every step of the way, my love. The war camps are going to be annoying, but…" I added
"The war camps? Margaery, you're not coming with me. You need to stay safe in Winterfell." Robb declared firmly.
"The Winterfell that could get raided by the Ironborn and a too ambitious Roose Bolton? And leave you in the South by yourself? No way, Robb. Not a chance." I replied, equally as firm. Grey Wind jumped off of the bed and slunk away, seemingly aware of the argument that was about to take place.
"Margaery, you can't go with me to war, it's too dangerous!" Robb cried out, incredulously. "I love you, and I know you and I are equals, but a war camp is a dangerous place to be!"
"Nobody else is as capable as I am in terms of working with my father's forces, save for my brothers, and nobody else, I remind you, has the specific set of information that I have. Your visions are inaccurate, but my knowledge gives me advance information a war strategist would kill for!"
"Yes, but-"
"...and not only that," I interjected loudly, "Robb, I love you, but you're shit at politics. Someone needs to do all the talking and politicking, to make sure that the court is running safely and the local lords aren't trying to murder one another. How are you going to deal with greedy Lord Bolton, or preventing the Greatjon Umber from murdering Randyll Tarly in a fit of rage? How will you make sure that the smallfolk don't see us as invaders looking to pillage their homes and ruin their lives? With the protection of the Reach and the North, who would dare try to murder me?"
"Margaery, I can think of no less than twenty different actors plotting to murder both of us right now, Tywin Lannister at the head of them. What would Tywin do if he invaded the camp and you were there?"
"Love, being in Winterfell is no guarantee of safety either. I could literally get attacked by the Ironborn or the Lannisters or a Wildling attack and I would die and that would be the end of it," I replied sardonically, emphasizing the things that could kill me. "Unless I am heavily pregnant with a child, in which case, I'd probably end up being at Riverrun or wherever we set our main base at, you need me down South with you!"
"Absolutely not, Margaery, I can't risk you or any future babe you and I might have." Robb answered stubbornly.
"What future babe? Robb, I haven't even gotten pregnant yet! Save it for the day I tell you I actually am pregnant to begin with!" I responded, exasperated. "Honestly, for being a genius military strategist, you are so thick sometimes. Sure, let's leave your wife and Queen in Winterfell, I'm sure that will go well. I'm sure nothing bad will ever happen when you have to talk to lords like Lord Bolton and..."
"I CAN'T LOSE YOU TOO!" Robb shouted out. "If you died, love, I don't know...what I…."
"Oh, Robb.." I comforted him. "We can't control that. There is no guarantee of safety anywhere. Why, I could be killed tomorrow because a knife flew at me wrong. We could be killed in a year from a wedding gone wrong. The Long Night is no less than three, four years away, and we could die then. The only guarantee of safety that we have is each other, and that means we need to stick together. I will be guarded at all times, and I can find myself a sworn shield if you are truly that worried about it. But I need to be with you, if we are to maximize our chances of living."
"Promise me, Margaery." Robb began. "Promise me you'll stay in Riverrun, or Highgarden, or wherever our base is the moment you find out you are with child, and stay there for me. Promise me you won't try to join the battlefield, and stay at the war camps, protected by guards and a sworn shield at all times. Promise me, Margaery."
"I promise." I murmured. "I will do our best to keep us safe and growing strong, you know I will. That includes any babe of ours as well."
Robb sighed, dropping the argument and leaning back into me.
"No more arguments, my love, and no more thinking. Just you and me." he said firmly before kissing me, and if that wasn't the sweetest sound I had heard that night, I didn't know what was.
The next day continued on with more tension as we awaited the news, and more letters arrived as the banners began traveling to Winterfell. First, Sansa's letter arrived, in which she detailed that she was safe and happy in Highgarden, accompanied by Loras's letter to me detailing the exact nature of what was going on. Grandmother had even managed to slip in a few words warning me of the aftermath and noting that we needed to prepare for war, which...well, was already happening.
Robb spent his time religiously in the tiltyard, with a fervor that could not be matched, as he realized that he would be fighting in a war soon enough, and I spent my few days reading as much as I could about military strategy, trying to extract even a single punch of useful information from my former life that could tip the balance here, and change the tides of the battle. Fuck, I should not have slept through history class as much as I did - it was a miracle that I remembered most of the Series as it was, I was terrible with names and dates.
Maybe something like the phalanx, but what the heck kind of formation was that? Or, I dunno, I remembered reading something about arrow draw weight and how it could be increased to a certain weight to pierce plate mail, like...120? 140? Either way, nothing particularly useful came out of it, and so I benched that as a mostly lost cause that I would discuss later.
Things seemed to be going mostly true to canon though, so I couldn't really complain at all about what was going on. Everything would be decided once the banners were called, and then we would march off to war, and hopefully destroy the Lannisters, with practically every realm against our side. Surely the Riverlands would side with us? Surely Lysa Arryn wasn't insane enough to ignore the combined forces of the North-Reach bloc? I kept these in my mind as the days came.
Stannis had sent House Stark a letter as well, which was a surprise, but not unexpected, as war had been brewing and my good-father's letters preempted the other lords. However, nothing, however, could have prepared me nor House Stark for the raven that would arrive in the Lord's Solar with a letter, the day before the last of the banners arrived.
To All The Lords of Westeros,
The false king, Joffrey, may sit on the throne, and other pretenders may follow him, but the true and rightful king declares himself alive, unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. My death has been greatly exaggerated.
You may have heard, perhaps, that I, Aegon VI Targaryen was murdered as a babe, smashed in the head by the Mountain. However, that was a lie - a necessary lie - but a lie. Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, swapped me with another infant before the Sacking of King's Landing, and spirited me away to Essos. As the rightful king on the Iron Throne, I stand, five and ten years after Robert's Rebellion and declare myself King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Dorne has pledged their swords, and we will take back what is ours, by Fire and Blood.
Bend the knee or be destroyed.
King Aegon VI Targaryen, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm".
How inconvenient.
