A/N: I was originally going to write the battle clean in one chapter, but I'm afraid this conversation and the fluff got away from me for a bit so I decided to release it as a separate chapter - with the battle being the chapter for the next day. Hopefully you all don't mind the fluff interlude - but I promise, there's some plot, as well as some discussion about uplift that could be important later.
ROBB V
"Do you have any other ideas on how to resolve a hostage situation?" Robb found himself asking his wife once again as they entered their tent, straight from the War Council Meeting, and changed into his smallclothes to prepare for bed.
"My love, as much as I know you want to free your uncle and grandfather, I seriously can't think of any other ways of resolving this situation that we haven't discussed about in public or in private," his wife replied as she quickly changed into her nightgown and laid in bed.
"Are you certain? I-"
"By the Old Gods, Robb, yes, I'm certain!" Margaery groused, her patience wearing thin. "Honestly, you'd think by the fifteenth or so time, you'd know I'd have no other answers for you."
And there are her thorns, sharp and deadly as always. Robb mused, looking into her eyes. My love is certainly her grandmother's granddaughter. I should probably expect to be banished from the room and replaced by Grey Wind, if I'm not careful.
After a few moments, Margaery briefly averted her eyes, blushed, and crossed her arms defensively, the same way she always did when confronted with uncomfortable amounts of eye contact. Finally, his lovely wife relented, her eyes softening as she looked at him.
"I'm sorry, my love, for snapping at you, but-"
"But?" Robb teased, making Margaery laugh.
"Oaf," his wife replied, with only affection in her voice. "You know as well as I do that the war camps are a stressful environment, and that we've been constantly faced with challenges, so it wouldn't be a surprise for us to occasionally snap at one another out of stress.
Before he could wrap his wife in a hug and distract her, she continued. "But I really do mean what I say, love, I don't have any more answers for you - you know that hostage situations were different in my world."
"Because of the weapons made of black powder?" Robb asked curiously, his previous impulse forgotten.
"Gunpowder, actually, but I'll forgive you since we haven't a word for that yet. I suppose someone will come up with a catchy name in the future for such a thing." Margaery replied, the foreign word rolling off of her tongue.
"You couldn't exactly intervene without diplomacy when your hostages were guaranteed to be killed by a bullet if there was even a single ounce of hesitation. With megaphones and walkie-talkies" (and here she giggled at the foreign word before continuing her explanation), "it would be as if a knife was held to your hostage, ready to be plunged into their hearts for a most assuredly fatal blow at any moment, and you would be able to communicate with them standing multiple leagues from you, yet you would be next to them at the same time..." Margaery rambled on.
Despite Margaery's nonchalant explanations of some of the tools in her world, Robb found those explanations terrifying and almost magical, if not for Margaery's insistence that there was no magic involved, and only sci-ence at the helm. To think of a world where smallfolk ruled over one another after overthrowing the nobility, of small chunks of metal in a contraption more dangerous than crossbows, flown at speeds that would instantly kill another person with even a modicum of accuracy? Or the idea of weapons so powerful that they could instantly burn entire keeps and poison the earth so thoroughly that nothing would survive if they were launched?
Margaery was impossibly well-informed, despite her protests that she barely knew the scope of the information she had in her old world. Sci-ence was an impressive subject, for it could answer Robb's questions on many phenomena in Westeros, between the weather, health, the land and sea, and so on, and Robb drank up each and every explanation as the gold that it was.
Even Margaery's explanations of what she called the universe were even more fantastical, as she explained the stars, and answered higher mysteries even the Maesters had trouble solving in a clinical manner, informing him that children in the other world learned these things as early as seven. He loved her explanations of her magical world, and once again thanked the Old Gods for sending him such a boon for the North.
"Robb? You're spacing out, love."
Oh, right. Back to our previous discussion.
"So, in this case, would the sword not be the, uh…" and here, Robb found himself stumbling over the foreign word of Margaery's native language, "bull-et, that would be threatening Uncle Edmure?"
"It would, in a way, but there's a less immediate effect, right? Your Uncle can probably fight, and it's not as though we can really shout through negotiations with the Lannisters standing outside of Riverrun. We'd need a small invading force, like we talked about in the earlier council, but not too soon, because then the Lannisters would be caught unawares, and would kill your uncle and grandfather immediately."
Margaery sighed quietly, a tell Robb knew was one of disappointment on her end, and finished her thought.
"I'm afraid to tell you, love, that the only thing we can really do is just follow the path set out to us, since my knowledge won't be of much help here. I just wish I could do more..."
Robb did the only thing he could in the situation, wrapping her in his arms to her happy sighs.
"Your knowledge has been an amazing help to us so far, and have most certainly turned the tide of this war, love," Robb commented, landing a solid kiss on her. "Mayhaps you do not know the secrets of black powder and have the weapons that can level entire keeps, or solidify every battle, but we have plenty to work with here, and we will emerge victorious as always.
Margaery smiled at him in a way that never failed to leave him breathless, her face arranging beautifully as he unashamedly drank up at the vision in front of him.
"Though," Robb teased, "I wouldn't mind some of those...what were they called? Cannons?"
He found himself thinking dreamily of the power that cannons would hold in a warfront, and how much easier his campaign would be if he could just blast through any keep that stood in his way. Robb imagined Tywin Lannister's face as his solar collapsed under him after Robb lit a giant cannon, and the satisfaction it would bring him to do the same to Joffrey. They'd call him the Blackpowder Wolf and he'd never lose a battle - who needed dragons when you could just shoot them out of the air?
Of course, he'd have to learn how to invent them from scratch without blowing himself up, but he had plans - Margaery had said there were three substances that made up black powder, and that one of them had been sulfur, but she knew no more than that, so he would-
"Robb, love, you're drooling again. You and your cannons, I swear…" Margaery groaned, exasperated.
"I'm only appreciating the beauty of a powerful weapon. We could use that in the Long Night, you know." Robb replied cheekily.
"Honestly, you tell a man once that there are weapons that can win wars, and he rushes to try to invent it. Or did you forget about my cautionings of how dangerous it is, even if we knew all of the materials? The possibility of getting your arms blown clean off, or you know, dying in a giant explosion?"
Robb smirked. "Whenever did I say that cannons were the powerful weapon I was referring to, love? The most powerful weapon-"
Robb paused dramatically, before poking his wife's head.
"Is. Right. Here."
"What a flatterer, only wanting me for my brains and your access to big guns," Margaery teased her husband. "Do you say this to all the other ladies you talk to?"
"I only speak the truth, my love, with the cleverest and most beautiful of them all by my side."
"Someone's trying to get lucky tonight. For an experienced general, you're too transparent with your intentions. I fear for your luck on the battlefield if you approach everything this directly."
Robb waggled his eyebrows. "Is it working? Or do I need to lay on the charm even thicker for my lady wife? I can be very convincing, you know."
Margaery turned to him, with a mock-thoughtful expression. "Hmm, I don't know if I'm feeling very wooed right now. I'm starting to think that I'm second in your heart to big shiny weapons, you know? Makes me feel very...neglected."
"Ah, so you're saying I'm not convincing enough, then. You can share your place with the big shiny weapons I invent, just in the same way I have to share your attention with those damnable books."
"I don't think you've complained about my books before, with all of the benefits they've granted you. Can you deny that?"
And there, Robb found himself unable to contain his grin. "Oh, certainly, love, I cannot deny my benefits in this situation. Can we-"
She rolled her eyes affectionately. "Pervert. Give a man a shiny thing to be distracted by, and he'll charge heedlessly onward, it seems. Maybe you should use that to your advantage in the battle ahead."
Bells rang in Robb's head as he filed a mental note of a certain realization in his head, one that would turn the tide of the battle tomorrow, but it was unimportant, compared to the woman in front of him.
"Maybe I should. I've got two battles to face, after all."
Margaery arched an eyebrow delicately. "Are you saying I'm a battle you need to face?"
Robb suddenly paled. "Uh, I mean…"
"Uh-huh, Stark. You might want to rethink that statement, before I send you off and cuddle with Grey Wind for the night." Margaery informed him primly.
"Grey Wind wouldn't betray me like that, boy, would you?"
"Grey Wind betrays anyone who offers him enough tender loving care, don't you? Come here, that's a good boy. Who's the best direwolf?" Grey Wind leaned contentedly under Margaery as she scritched at Grey Wind's furry neck.
"Traitor. See if I give you any treats now, Grey Wind."
"Grey Wind clearly knows the superior caretaker in this relationship. You better remember that, Stark."
"Or what? You'll take care of me? Oh no, my lady wife is out to kill me, help-"
Margaery grinned, poking at him. "See if I take care of you ever again, love. Or should I adjust my treatment of you accordingly?"
"Well, I can't say I would mind more positive treatment, but-"
"I'm starting to sense a pattern here."
"Indeed, there is a pattern, good guess, love. I've got a battle tomorrow, you know, you should show your poor husband some affection before he risks his life for you once again."
"Does my poor husband deserve it?" Margaery asked, smirking at him. "He's been awfully rude to me."
"Ah, I see," Robb nodded. "I should correct his manners then. Or do you have an alternative in mind?"
"Oh, honestly, love, why do I even try?" Margaery griped. "You're like a wolf with a bone - no offense, Grey Wind - but you have no subtlety at all."
"That's what I have you for, love. I'm a Northman, we're not exactly known for our subtlety."
"Then you better show your appreciation, before I go to sleep," Margaery replied, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "And it better be-"
Robb grinned, capturing Margaery in a kiss. "Enough talking, love. I can think of a few ideas to occupy our time."
Margaery laughed, and Robb took that as his signal to shut up and enjoy the rest of the night.
Ending A/N: There's a hint in this chapter as to what Robb's strategy is going to be for the Battle of Riverrun, and I'm curious if anyone can guess the hint before I release the chapter. I don't have any rewards except maybe writing a little sidestory in the Roseverse for my winner, so there's that.
As for the uplift - I wanted to address that given the fact that even if Margaery isn't amazing at remembering history, the materials for gunpowder still exist in the world and she has somewhat basic knowledge that someone like Robb would know. Does that mean Robb and Margaery will ever re-invent gunpowder and uplift Westeros? Probably not, given the dangers - or at least, not before the ending of the War Arc - it would be more during the Long Night than anything else, but even then, it's pretty slim.
The innovations with science, though, are going to play an interesting part in the future. Just because something isn't directly related to combat or will win you wars faster doesn't mean that it can't help improve Westeros, and those Maesters are hiding their knowledge in their towers. Maybe Arc 4 will have some answers to that? I guess we'll see.
