A/N: So it feels (to me) like it's been forever since we last updated, but maybe that's because I just moved states! I'm settling in nicely before grad school starts!

Anyway, enough about me - here's your next chapter! Enjoy!

"I don't understand, Grandmother," Loras said testily. It had been almost a month since his sister's disappearance, and about three weeks since their whole retinue had arrived back at Highgarden. He had been interrogating his grandmother about the incident, to no avail. Now, his patience was wearing thin. "Why won't you tell me what happened to Margaery?"

"Because it's simply not your business," the Queen of Thorns replied candidly. "Why don't you go wave that sword of yours and teach our knights how to fight. No doubt we'll be drawn back into this ridiculous war before we know it. Our alliance with the Lannisters remains every bit as necessary for them as it is unpleasant for us."

"Then why did we leave the city so soon after Joffrey's death?" Loras snapped back. The Knight of Flowers sighed in frustration when his grandmother didn't answer. "At least tell me how you even knew to smuggle her out of the city. And don't deny it, no one but you could have orchestrated that. Nothing about that wedding day went the way it was supposed to."

Lady Olenna's face hardened. "Listen to me, Loras. You may not have enjoyed watching that day, but you enjoyed it far more than you would have enjoyed seeing your sister married to that beast, I can promise you that."

Loras could only scowl. She was right about that; he had always hated that petulant little brat. But even so, for him to die horribly, and for Margaery to mysteriously disappear in the same day… something was going on. Something his grandmother knew about. He strapped on his sword belt and marched off to the practice yard. He was going to get to the bottom of his sister's disappearance, no matter what it took.

/*/

It had been only a few days since the Wildling spotting, and Castle Black was an overactive hive of preparation. Everywhere Margaery looked, men in black cloaks were sprinting around - some carrying messages to the Maester's tower, others from the rookery to the Lord Commander's quarters. She tried to stay as out-of-the-way as she could, but that seemed to be increasingly more difficult. She'd just gone down to the library to borrow a book, and had managed to find one about the Age of Heroes. She knew the stories by heart, of course, but it would still be an entertaining read.

Margaery sighed to herself as her stomach growled for the third time in an hour. She needed to get something to eat. Perhaps Gilly would be in the kitchens, she thought to herself as she walked out the door. The two women had become fast friends, and if it was a heavy errand day, she knew Little Sam could be a handful for the overworked mother.

As she turned a corner, she bumped shoulders rather abruptly with a black brother turning the corner. "Oh, goodness! My apologies, Ser," she quickly curtsied. She recognized him as Locke, one of the few men who had survived the mission to Craster's Keep with Jon just after she had been brought to the Wall.

The ranger almost smirked, the facial expression highlighting the nasty scar along his left eye. "Nothing to forgive, Miss…?"

"Flowers."

Margaery thought she saw a flash in his dark, beady eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Flowers," he repeated, still smirking. "You have nothing to worry about, my lady. It's our job to keep you safe."

She forced a smile. "Thank you," she said, curtseying before she hurried on her way. Something about that man just gave her the nastiest feeling…

"Bethany!" Gilly's voice jerked her out of her unpleasant thoughts. Smiling, she hurried over to her friend. "How are you? Is the Lord Commander…?"

Margaery shook her head. "All is forgiven; you have nothing to worry about." She glanced down when she felt a tug on the hem of her dress. "Hello, little Sam, Auntie Bethany is here," she smiled, picking him up and putting him over her shoulder.

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind watching him…" Gilly started, trailing off.

Keeping a tight hold on the baby, Margaery put a hand on her friend's arm. "What is it? You can ask."

She smiled a little. "I just have some errands to run in Mole's Town; I shouldn't be long. And I'm sure you're wanting something else to wear," she noted.

Margaery sighed. Since her arrival, it had been men's clothing and makeshift dresses that Gilly had fashioned out of old uniform scraps and lined with old cloaks. They were well-made; the girl had skill. But the weather would soon be too cold for them to suffice; she would need a thicker garment. "A proper dress would be lovely, if you find one. But don't go out of your way for me." Though Margaery had to admit that the trousers and heavy cloaks were easier to move around in than her complicated southern dresses. "Some sturdier trousers would also be welcome," she said.

Gilly smiled, and turned her gaze to her baby boy. "Be good, now. I'll be back soon." She gave him a kiss, and looked at him longingly for another moment, before turning back to Margaery.

Margaery reached into the small pouch she kept on her at all times and produced a copper. Gilly looked at her uncomprehendingly. "It's for the clothes, should you find any. It's only fair I pay for it myself." Gilly blushed, but took the coin, gave Sam one last kiss and headed out.

It must have been so hard for Gilly to leave her baby, even with someone she considered a friend. But Margaery just smiled and vowed that little Sam would have the best possible time while in her care. "So, little Ser, what shall we do?" she asked the babe cheerfully. "Perhaps we should get something to eat?" she suggested rhetorically as her stomach made its intentions known again.

But for all the Lady's love of children, she'd never actually handled one before. It was always visits to the orphanage, and a few kind words before they were back in the hands of their regular caretakers. And even her various distant cousins had always been handled either by their mother or a maid - more often the latter. Nevertheless, she set the babe on her hip and walked towards the kitchen. "Hello, Hobb," she called with a smile.

The cook grunted a greeting absentmindedly, so Margaery helped herself. It was a bit challenging to balance the child and the bowl of broth - sometimes she wondered how Gilly did it - but she dished up some leftover venison stew for the both of them. Even if Little Sam couldn't chew the meat, the broth was at least something to hold him over until his mother returned from Mole's Town.

"Here we are," she said gently, sitting them down in a corner by the door. She settled Sam on her lap and tried to feed him a spoonful of broth. Of course, the babe though it much more amusing to swat the spoon away. Margaery tried a few more times - getting broth all over herself - before she gave up and simply tried to feed herself as best she could with the child still on her lap. He seemed to be more fascinated by her hair now, though.

Gods, her hair. She hadn't properly washed it with oils since the day she left King's Landing. Even with the washing it got while she was recovering, she was sure it must look a fright. It was one of her more girlish impulses, but she couldn't help it. Ever since waking up at Castle Black, she'd simply left it down, but perhaps Jon could give her a small leather string, so she could at least braid it?

A sharp pull at her hair brought her back to the present. It seemed little Sam would no longer be amused simply by looking and gently touching her hair. She needed another distraction. She remembered the book she'd borrowed from Maester Aemon's library and pulled it out of the large pockets her dress had - thank the Gods for Gilly's practicality in sewing dresses. She turned sideways on the bench and put little Sam between her legs, so he wouldn't fall off, even if she wasn't holding him. Opening the book to the first page, she began to read…

Thankfully, there were only a few Brothers in the mess hall with them. They largely ignored her, as they usually did with Gilly and Sam. But as Margaery softly read the story of Ser Duncan the Tall, and his squire Aegon, she noticed a few heads turning her way, and some of their conversations gradually quieting. She dared to glance up above the book, but the looks in her direction were far from malicious - some were curious, others even seemed to be reminiscing as they heard her reading. Privately, she was a little amused. Here were these tough criminals, defenders of the Wall, who seemed to be enjoying a tale all about heroes.

She directed her attention back to the book and the child in front of her, and did her best not to let that amusement show. She was just getting to the part where Ser Eustace got 'Dunk and Egg' involved in a dangerous conflict with Lady Rohanne Webber when someone sat down in front of her.

"You're telling it wrong," the one they called 'Dolorous Edd' insisted. She recognized him as a friend of the Lord Commander's.

This time, Margaery had no issue letting her amusement break through. "I'm just reading it from the book," she said, smiling a little.

"Well, yeah, but you've got to play up the drama. Like saying it was at midnight with the full moon shinin' down on 'em," he insisted.

Margaery held back a very unladylike snort. "That's not how the Maesters recorded it," she argued, though she wholeheartedly agreed. The book was rather dry. "But I suppose I could put in some effort." She cleared her throat and started reading the passage again.

As little Sam seemed completely taken with the story - though if he understood a word of it, no one could tell - Margaery found herself being lost in the tale herself. But when she ended the chapter, the room was a lot fuller and most of the men were suddenly pretending they hadn't been listening in.

After allowing herself one tiny smile, she did her best to ignore her amusement at the situation and looked at little Sam. The poor boy had tired himself out and was asleep, even as he leaned against her chest. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to continue the story tomorrow," she said, loud enough for most of the men to hear. Some audibly complained as she slid the book into her pocket and gathered the babe up in her arms.

But as she left the mess hall, her path was blocked by one Lord Commander Snow standing in the doorway. He looked especially handsome leaning as he was against the doorframe, a tiny smile playing around his lips. Good Gods. The man didn't smile often, but when he did… "Enjoy the story?" she asked, mostly to distract herself from thoughts she really shouldn't be having.

"I did. It was one of my brother's favourites growing up," he said, stepping out of her way.

"Not your own?" she asked as she started towards Gilly's room, knowing she should really put little Sam down for a proper nap, now that he was asleep.

"No, I preferred imagining myself as Aemon Targaryen, the dragonknight," he replied, falling into step with her.

Margaery frowned. "He defended a mad King who had a man killed for sleeping with his discarded mistress. Did he not fight one of your ancestors?" she asked.

"Aye, Cregan Stark," he said, and she thought she detected some amusement in his voice. "The man he defended might have been mad and cruel, but he was a sworn member of the Kingsguard, and the best swordsman of his age. And as a boy...especially as a bastard with nothing...it was easier to overlook his flaws," he explained, his face growing serious once more.

"I suppose I can grant you that," she said, unable to keep a small smile off her own face.

"Much as I enjoyed your retelling of the story of Ser Duncan and Aegon, I did have a purpose in seeking you out," he said.

That's not foreboding at all, she thought to herself. "Oh?"

"I've found a proper room for you and Gilly to share, if you're both willing. There's safety in numbers, after all," he explained. "And it's deeper in the castle, so it shouldn't be too cold, if you heap enough furs. Sam is installing a bolt on the door as we speak."

Margaery would be lying if she said she didn't feel a small twinge of regret. She liked sharing quarters with Jon, drinking a cup of wine - though a far cry from the Arbor Gold she was used to - and laughing and talking about every topic under the sun. She could be herself with him, which was a rare thing anywhere in Westeros, let alone hiding as she was at the Wall. It occurred to her that he was the first man she actually liked as a person, as opposed to liking what he could get her. She never had to seduce him - though she wasn't sure if his rigid sense of honour would have allowed it - but she simply never had to. She'd found an actual honest and kind man, and she'd found him at the Wall of all places.

So yes, Margaery was perhaps a tad dejected that she would no longer be able to spend so much time with him. "Oh. When will we be moving in?"

"Tomorrow morning." Was that her imagination, or did she see some reluctance in his eyes? Perhaps he valued her company as much as she did his.

"Then I suppose I should go pack up what I have. Sleep well, little Sam," she whispered as she put the baby down in his makeshift crib.

/*/

Jon held the missive in his hand for a few more moments. It would be sent to Brightwater Keep soon enough, but for now he could still second guess himself.

Part of the letter was a commision that he hoped would make for a nice surprise, but the other part…it was risky. Incredibly risky. It was the reason the letter was going to Brightwater, with instructions to deliver it directly into the hands of Lady Olenna Tyrell, and no one else at Highgarden - not even Lord Mace or Ser Loras. She deserved to know that 'Bethany Flowers' had gotten to safety, despite taking a small...detour. Jon smirked to himself. That's certainly one way of putting it.

He walked across the tower to Maester Aemon's rookery. He had to be the one to tie this note to a raven's leg and send it off. He opened the cage, and one immediately came out onto his hand, a leg stuck out. Jon chuckled at it. "Smart one, are you?" he murmured kindly as he tied the parchment on. "Fly south now, brave one. Brightwater Keep," he murmured, before sending it off into the air.

Jon found his heart falling into his stomach as he watched the black wings flying away. Gods be good. Get there safely.

A/N: Let us know what you think!