A/N: Wow, thank you all so much! Such positive reviews and over 100 follows on the first chapter has told me that you guys definitely want me to continue with this. So, here is another chapter for you, hope you enjoy it. I really appreciate all you guys for such encouragement, and I'm going to do my very best to keep updates regular.

THANK YOU ALL!

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II

Permission

"Perhaps we should ask Loras to join us," Margaery suggested, eyes cast downwards.

"No," Renly replied firmly.

"But -" she began.

"No!" he almost snapped, and she lifted her head to look at him. "I'm sorry," he apologised, and she shook her head, rising up to her feet.

"If it's what it takes for you to be able to -" she began again.

"Margaery, I said no," he said, an edge to his voice that told her not to push it any further.

"Why don't I pour us some more wine?" she asked brightly, changing the subject and crossing to the sideboard where a flagon and two cups rested. Renly didn't respond, and so she went ahead and poured them both a measure. This wasn't the first night of doing such a thing, and she knew how it would end.

They would both drink too much to try and mask their awkwardness, then he would clumsily kiss her and half undress her before pulling away and claiming he could not take her because he had had too much wine. Margaery knew it was untrue, but if she did not stay and drink with him then he would soon find a reason to ask her to leave. She had to be here, just in case there was the slightest chance that his desire would stir for her.

It had to. She knew it. He knew it. The whole court knew it. She had heard them whispering behind their hands. The common folk would blame her for the lack of a child, but the lords and ladies Renly surrounded himself with would know the truth. Margaery still hadn't decided which would be worse, judgement from those who didn't know, or pity from those who did. She hoped she would never have to find out. If Renly could just do his duty until she was with child then she would be satisfied.

She eyed him as she returned to the seating area with their drinks, handing him his before taking the chair opposite him and fixing her gaze on him.

"Don't," he said after a moment, gulping down several mouthfuls.

"We cannot keep on like this," she said.

"When we take the Capital, things will be better – I will be less tense," he said, unconvincingly.

"Are you tense with Loras?" she asked him sarcastically, and he narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I just want to be a good wife, a good queen, and how can I do that if my husband cannot even bear to lay with me?"

"It's not you," Renly said quietly. "You know that, don't you? Do not think I am blind to your beauty. Those who say you are the most beautiful woman in the kingdoms are not wrong, and you cannot understand how much it shames me that I cannot appreciate you."

"Renly…" she began softly, not even knowing what else to say.

"Women have never tempted me Margaery," he shook his head. "And if you cannot, then I fear no woman ever will."

"But, you are king, you need an heir," she stressed.

"I know," he said. "Believe me, I know."

"And you must also know, that I will do anything, anything at all to make it easier for you. To make it work, to make us work," she implored him, holding his eyes.

"I know," he said softly, "but you deserve better than this. Better than trapped in marriage to a man incapable of ever satisfying you. I wouldn't blame you, you know, if you were to…" he cleared his throat. "If you…wanted to, with another, I mean."

"Take a lover?" she asked him in an astonished whisper.

"You would have to be discreet," he said warningly. "And you could not risk falling pregnant."

"Renly! I couldn't!" she said, aghast.

"Of course you could, if you wanted to, you would not be the first queen and doubtless you will not be the last to do so," he said quickly.

"But it is your bed I should be sharing!" she insisted.

"And when we take the Capital, I swear we will try, whatever it takes," he said.

"And I will wait," she said stubbornly.

"Very well, I will not force you," he said tiredly. "But if you change your mind, I will not judge you."

Margaery said nothing, sipping on her wine, her mind spinning. She could not believe that Renly had suggested such a thing, but she supposed he was right in part. Queens had had lovers before, though she doubted they had ever been taken after such willingness on their husbands' part. She knew it was guilt rather than anything else that drove Renly, he hadn't really wanted to marry her but how could he pass on the opportunity? Her family brought wealth and thousands of men to bolster his own numbers. Unless something went spectacularly wrong, Renly would take the Iron Throne, and she would sit beside him – the queen he had never wanted. Perhaps his permission was his way of apologising?

"There are some handsome men at court," he commented when she lowered her cup again.

She rolled her eyes in response.

"Obviously I only have eyes for one," he teased, and she couldn't help but smile. He truly did love Loras, and Loras returned the feelings just as strongly. Perhaps in another time or another place they would have been allowed to be openly happy. She sighed.

"I must say, Robb Stark is far more handsome than I imagined he would be," Renly said, watching her carefully.

"He favours his mother, I think," she said nonchalantly.

"Smiles slightly more than Ned," he added.

"I wouldn't know," she said.

"Same sense of honour, though," he continued.

"Yes," Margaery agreed. "Though I think there is a sharpness there, an awareness of the south that perhaps his father did not possess."

"I hope so," Renly said, looking at her curiously. "You enjoy his company."

"Well enough," she shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind -" he began.

"Don't," it was her turn to stop him, and he inclined his head in agreement.

"Just don't think you cannot spend time with whoever you please," he said.

"It's innocent," she said firmly.

"I know," he soothed, raising his cup to his lips and taking a long sip. "But it doesn't have to be."

Renly's words haunted Margaery to the extent that she hid herself away for the next day, only venturing from her tent when the men came to dismantle it. It was warm out, but there was a slightly cooling breeze and so she had her handmaiden fetch her a light travelling cloak. While she waited she cast her eyes suspiciously about camp. It was mostly packed away now, the royal tents were the last to come down. Renly's had already gone, as had Robb Stark's. It appeared only her own and the one occupied by Lady Stark were still erected.

As her eyes fixed on the tent opposite her own the occupant made her way out. She offered Lady Stark a smile, and received a rather strained one in return. Lady Stark mourned her husband; that much was obvious. Margaery did not think she had ever seen a more defeated looking woman. Perhaps she had just been sheltered from reality for too long. Perhaps all women ended up looking that way in the end. Margaery could certainly feel defeat in her own bones, but she hoped it did not yet show on her face. Her grandmother had taught her to always guard her emotions – to never let too much of the truth seek out.

She had been careless lately. The long nights with Renly, drinking until the small hours, they had made her tongue looser. He was unguarded with her. It made it too easy to be the same with him. The irony was not lost on her that they likely rubbed along better than most married couples. If only they could rub along just as well between the sheets. She scowled, hoping that no one could see her. It was testing, to say the least. She didn't feel trapped. She enjoyed Renly's company and no woman could ever say that he was not a handsome man. Plenty of women likely envied her marriage. If only they knew…

Her thoughts drifted to his suggestion again. It had horrified her, the ready way in which he had suggested it, as though it would not bother him in the slightest to know that she was being fucked by another man. But then, why would it? He had no interest in her, he treated her as a trusted friend, almost like a sister. Perhaps he loved her, in some way, but no desire came with it. Nor, she would only admit this to herself, was there any desire for him on her part. Yes, he was handsome. And, yes, she enjoyed his company, but he did nothing to the speed of her heart. He did not make her stomach flutter, or her head spin. He was as much a friend to her as she was to him. The difference was, she was willing to try and be more.

She sighed and slowly made her way to where she knew her horse was being saddled up. What if she did heed Renly's suggestion? Even just thinking it had her glancing around guiltily, as though someone could read her thoughts. No. She could not. Margaery determined to forget what he had said as she reached her horse, speaking politely with the stable boy for a moment before she took the reins in her hands and prepared to mount the mare.

"May I help you, my queen?" his voice was instantly recognisable, and had she not been her grandmother's granddaughter then she would have flushed in an instant. It is only because of what Renly said, ignore it.

"You're most kind," she said neutrally, desperately trying to ignore how the warmth of his hands through the thin material of her dress made her skin tingle. Damn Renly. Curse him. She hadn't felt like this when Robb Stark had touched her at the feast, had she? She blinked. Had she? In the next moment she was settled in her saddle and sending him a customary smile. "Thank you," she said politely, before determinedly looking away from him.

That was a mistake too, for she instantly found her husband's eyes. He sent her a sly smile and she glowered at him. Renly turned away then, clearly stifling a laugh, before he hauled himself up atop his own horse. She assumed he would be riding with the northern king, and so she determined to stay behind them and amuse herself with her ladies. One of whom approached now, with her travelling cloak.

"My queen," Tessa bobbed into a curtsey before offering up the cloak.

"Thank you," Margaery took it, throwing it around her shoulders and fastening it carefully.

Renly, saddled up ahead of her, looked back and around in the next moment, clearly checking that everyone was ready to depart. Obviously he was satisfied, as a moment later he was shouting the order to leave. His banner bearers went first, and he trotted after them, Loras on one side of him and Brienne on the other. Margaery pressed her heels gently into her horse's side and eased her into a light trot, settling a few lengths behind Renly. For a moment she rode alone, but then he drew up beside her, keeping his horse to the same pace as hers. It was irritating, but at the same time she felt slightly pleased with herself. Bury it, Margaery.

"Are you not riding with my husband?" she asked him pointedly when he offered no words.

"I rather think he is sick of my company as we spent most of yesterday having a war conference," Robb told her in an amused tone.

"Indeed," she said. It came out more coldly than she intended, and she had to remind herself that she was queen, and that she ought to be more gracious. "Forgive me, we have a long journey ahead of us and I am finding it rather daunting. This is my first time away from Highgarden for any extended time."

"I am in the same boat, my queen," he said sympathetically. "I had never left the North until I marched with my banners."

"You must have travelled much of the North, though?" she inquired.

"Much," he nodded in agreement. "With my father, as he taught me how to be a lord. Though, there are parts of the North even I have never seen."

"Such as?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"The Wall," he said almost longingly. "I envy my brother, in some ways. I would so like to see the Wall."

"Your brother?" she raised a brow.

"Half-brother, I suppose," he said, clearing his throat slightly. "Jon."

"He took the Black?" she asked, concluding that he must mean his bastard brother, and deciding not to draw attention to it.

"Yes," Robb answered her, his jaw tightening for a moment.

"You must miss him," she said softly.

"Yes," he said again, and she decided to change the subject.

"Will your men be joining us at Storm's End?" she asked.

"Yes," Robb answered with what suspiciously sounded like false enthusiasm. "They are a mere days ride behind us now, depending how long Renly has us marching each day, they may catch up to us before we reach Storm's End."

"Do you suppose your Northmen ride harder than Renly's southerners?" she teased him.

"I have fewer men, they are quicker to organise," he replied tactfully.

"You are tactical on and off the battlefield, I see," she said pointedly, and he laughed.

She enjoyed his laugh, and cursed herself for noticing it. Damn Renly, clearly this was all his fault. Her previous conversations with Robb had felt entirely innocent, and there had been no tingling. Had there? She was questioning herself again, and she shook her head to try and clear it of sinful thoughts. Renly is your husband, concentrate.

"Are you alright, my queen?" Robb asked her in concern.

"Yes, just a little light-headed for a moment, I did not have much of an appetite at breakfast – likely I didn't eat enough," she made her poor excuse, but he seemed to accept it without question.

"You must say, if you need to stop," he told her seriously, and she nodded her agreement.

"May I ask you something?" she turned her head to look at him properly.

"Of course," he invited her at once.

"Do you really have no desire for the Iron Throne?" she asked. "Have you never even, thought about it?"

"No," he said, his face a picture of honesty.

"Why?" she asked, despite herself, a frown furrowing her brow.

"Winterfell is my home," he said simply, and all she could do was smile slightly.

"You're not like most men," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Most men cannot help themselves," she said. "They want more, even if they shouldn't."

"Well, I am king, when by rights I should only ever have been a lord," he said teasingly.

"True," Margaery agreed with a laugh. "What made you take the title?"

"You haven't met the Greatjon yet, have you?" he said, raising a brow.

"No," she replied, lips tilting up into a half-smile.

"When you do, you'll know why I accepted the title," he told her, and she laughed again.

She laughed many times that afternoon, even the discomfort of riding for so long could not dampen her spirits. Every now and again she caught Renly looking over his shoulder, a knowing look in his eye. She dismissed his looks, he was wrong, his mind wandering where it ought not to. All she was doing was enjoying the company of the King in the North. It was friendship, and that was all it would be. All it ever could be. She would not compromise herself and allow it to ever become more, to even think of it becoming any more.

Catelyn watched as her son danced elegantly with Renly's queen. He seemed to have struck up an easy friendship with the girl. She supposed it wasn't all that surprising, they were the same age and likely had much in common, not least being far from home for the first time in their lives. Robb had had to grow up far too quickly for her liking, so had all her children. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of them. So far away. Without her. Lost and afraid. She closed her eyes and took a breath to compose herself. Now was not the time to let her mask slip. Her clothing showed her grief, she could not allow it to show so readily on her face. She had to be content, at least. She was, really, Robb had quickly allied with Renly, and so long as he held the Kingslayer she was reasonably assured that her daughters would be safe.

"Catelyn Tully," a crisp voice addressed her and she looked up, her eyes widening.

"Lady Olenna!" she said in surprise.

"It's been many years," Olenna Tyrell said, a smile quirking her lips.

"Please, sit," Catelyn gestured to the seat next to her. "Would you care for some wine?"

"It would be a delight," Olenna returned.

Catelyn beckoned over a cupbearer before turning her attention back to her new companion.

"I must say, I did not expect to see you here," she said honestly.

"I did not expect to be here," Olenna said drily. "I am far too old for this, but my son is an idiot. I cannot trust him to do the right thing and so I must be here. Besides, I am very fond of my granddaughter, Highgarden is not as joyous without her."

"I am sorry to hear that," Catelyn said.

"My troubles are nothing to yours," she said, shaking her head. "Eddard Stark was an honourable man, I am sorry to say that that is doubtless what killed him. Though, I am sure there are some who could have prevented it – who did nothing, and said nothing. Cowards and rats make up that city, a man like your husband had no chance, I am sorry to say."

"I begged him not to go," Catelyn admitted.

"Of course you did. You're a shrewd woman and no fool. You should have gone with him, stopped him being so damn honourable," Olenna almost snapped.

"Nothing and no one could have prevented Ned doing what he perceived as the right thing. As much as it pains me, I never would have changed him," she said quietly.

"Quite right," Olenna said, turning away to sup down some wine. "That's your boy, there, is it? With my granddaughter? He has your look, but his father's honour, no doubt?"

"Yes," Catelyn agreed, "Robb is his father's son. But what happened to Ned has hardened him, he is no fool, Lady Olenna."

"Good, my son is fool enough, I will not abide any more of them," she said tartly, a sour look on her face. "Margaery is nothing like him, thanks the Gods."

"She has been very gracious," Catelyn allowed.

"She will be a proper queen, a queen the people will love," Olenna said, pride now lacing her tone.

"I don't doubt it," Catelyn said.

"Have you heard what Cersei Lannister has done at the Capital?" Olenna snapped.

"No," Catelyn said, trying to calm herself. She had only met Lady Olenna on a handful of occasions, but each time she found herself constantly on edge. Not for nothing was she dubbed the Queen of Thorns.

"She has had all Robert's bastards rounded up, and murdered," Olenna told her, a look of disgust on her face. "From grown men and girls to babes at the breast. Murdered. In broad daylight with no shame, all done by the Gold Cloaks. By the Gods, I have heard some things in my time, but that woman truly is a disgrace to our sex. You know why, of course?"

"I can well imagine," Catelyn's voice shook with disgust and rage. This was the woman holding her daughters hostage. A woman capable of ordering the deaths of innocent children. It was enough to make her shudder.

"Of course, you're a clever woman. Cleverer than that sister of yours, and your brother for that matter," Olenna said. "Slow witted, the pair of them – no offence."

"You believe it, about queen and her children?" Catelyn asked.

"You mean the bitch and her bastards?" Olenna corrected. "I have no doubt. That boy is wrong, by all accounts. The younger two I hear are good natured, but the boy who unlawfully sits that throne is a monster, make no mistake. It's the risk you take, you know what they said about the Targaryens? Each time one came into the world the Gods tossed a coin."

"There are some who would say that Renly is unlawfully claiming the throne," Catelyn dared say.

"And to them I would say, would you prefer Stannis?" Olenna chimed. "I do wonder if he has gone quite mad – they say his priestess is a witch who burns people for sport. He is not right for these kingdoms, and he has no son."

"Neither has Renly," Catelyn pointed out.

"He soon will have, of that I have no doubt," she said smugly.

"I pray the Gods are good," Catelyn said dutifully.

"The Gods have little to do with it," Olenna said drily.

"Perhaps not," Catelyn said.

"Your son seems happy enough to be pledged to Renly," she commented after a moment.

"Robb is allied with him, as an equal," Catelyn said, stung.

"Of course," she said dismissively. "But one kingdom is hardly equal to six."

"But one is all Robb wants, all he has ever wanted," Catelyn said slightly heatedly.

"Funny, I hear he is named King in the North and of the Trident," Olenna shot back.

"Yes," Catelyn agreed defensively. "My brother, Edmure, pledged himself to Robb after he broke the siege of Riverrun, and he will remain pledged to Robb until such a time a man worthy of being a true king sits the Iron Throne!"

Olenna cackled at that, and Catelyn took a calming breath. "It was fun sparring with you, dear," Olenna said, patting her knee. "We shall have to do it again sometime," she continued, before draining her wine. "But for now you must excuse me, I must speak with my granddaughter."

Robb was disgruntled at having his dance with Margaery cut short, though he had been rather proud at escaping from the Queen of Thorns without any scratches. Lady Olenna Tyrell had a formidable reputation, and he had no desire whatsoever to tangle with her. Instead he had bowed and kissed her hand and enquired after her health before quickly excusing himself with a warm smile, telling how nice it was to have made her acquaintance. She had looked amused by him, and he imagined that she, like so many others, had immediately dismissed him.

It didn't bother him, he knew he had many more battles to win before he could call himself a warrior. No one could deny that he had made a good start though. He sighed, taking a full cup of wine with thanks and moving through the crowd of people who had gathered at yet another feast. Try as he might he still could not fathom how Renly was able to throw such lavish banquets every night they stopped to rest.

"Enjoying yourself?" the man himself asked from behind him and Robb turned and smiled.

"I cannot fault it," he said truthfully. "I must confess, I will be sad indeed to miss these feasts when this is done with and I return to Winterfell."

"Come now," Renly chuckled, clapping him on the back. "Northern food cannot be that bad, surely?"

"I have never thought of it as bad," Robb told him. "Though now I have come this far south I wonder that my tastes have likely been spoiled."

"Or broadened, perhaps?" he asked in a teasing manner.

"Aye, perhaps," Robb agreed with a chuckle. He found himself liking Renly more and more the more time he spent in his company. Any lingering doubts he had had over following him over Stannis had swiftly evaporated.

"Come, sit with me a moment, I have something of importance to discuss with you," Renly was suddenly serious, and Robb's brow furrowed as he agreed, following Renly to a dimly lit corner and sitting opposite him.

"What is it?" Robb asked concernedly when they were both settled.

"Your pact with the Freys," Renly said.

"Oh," he took a breath of relief, thankful it was nothing more serious.

"Would I be right in thinking it would not have been your first choice?" Renly asked.

"Nor my second, if I am honest," Robb replied with a wry smile and his companion chuckled.

"Perhaps there is something to be done about it," Renly said.

"I'm all ears," said Robb, hoping he did not sound too eager or desperate.

"Walder Frey is a lord of the Riverlands," Renly began. "When I sit the throne your uncle will have to come to me and beg forgiveness for not bending the knee sooner, all for show of course," he waved his hand in an unconcerned manner. "However, that show could well get you out of your marriage pact. After all, would I really want you, the King in the North, taking a wife from the country you also once claimed? What if you tried to claim it again?"

"I see," Robb said in an amused tone, and Renly grinned.

"I think you see where I'm going with this, Robb," Renly said. "Walder Frey will have to come to me, tail between his legs, just like all the other lords who didn't support me from the start. Now, I will accept his fealty, but what I cannot accept is him being rewarded with a queen for a daughter. No, I will sleep much more easily at night knowing that you are married to a southern girl from a great family that I trust implicitly. And I don't doubt you too would sleep easier, or perhaps not," he winked.

"A southern wife, you say?" Robb said with a smile, reclining back easily in his chair.

"You can have your pick, of course," Renly said, waving his hand again. "They will all be at the Capital for the coronation – which of course, you would stay for."

"Of course," Robb agreed readily.

"And there you will choose your bride, name her and so long as she is free, she is yours. Her family would not refuse a direct order from me, and of course, it would all be my idea – you would have no choice in it whatsoever," Renly was almost laughing now.

"You're too good to me," Robb chuckled.

"And don't you damn well forget it," Renly joined in his laughter, clinking his goblet against his. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal," Robb agreed, grinning from ear to ear. It was all he had ever wanted, some choice over his future wife. Now Renly was giving him the choice of all the eligible women in the southern kingdoms. He glanced towards Margaery and his smile faltered for a moment. He pushed the thought from his head. It could never be so. He drank deeply from his cup and tried to forget he had ever thought it.

"And you haven't managed to entice him yet?" her grandmother asked bluntly.

"No, grandmother," Margaery replied, cringing back in her seat.

"Humph," she grumbled. "I am not entirely surprised, of course, but I would have thought you would have made some progress by now."

"I try, every night, I try," Margaery insisted. "I would be trying right now if you had not insisted I be here instead."

"Watch your tone, girl," her grandmother snapped.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "It is just so frustrating! I have tried everything, I even offered to have Loras help, to begin with, but Renly will not hear of it."

"He cannot bury his head in the mud forever, he needs a child, and he will not get one from Loras!"

"He knows that," Margaery said calmly. "He has promised me that we will succeed when he takes the throne. He knows he needs an heir."

"I knew this wouldn't be easy," her grandmother said icily. "But Gods be good, I thought you of all women would be able to entice him. If only Renly was as easily captivated as that Stark boy."

"What do you mean?" Margaery asked her sharply.

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "The boy is completely infatuated with you. The whole world can see it, and the whole world cannot fathom why your husband does not look at you the same way."

"I have done nothing to encourage such a thing," Margaery gabbled.

"Of course you haven't, you're not that stupid," her grandmother said dismissively.

"No," Margaery agreed quietly.

She had wondered whether to tell her grandmother what Renly had said to her, about the permission he had given her. After hearing that though, she resolved to keep it to herself.

"He's a handsome boy, though," her grandmother said slyly, and Margaery sighed.

"Yes, I suppose," she said in what she hoped was an unaffected manner.

"I imagine it must be tempting, given that he shows you the kind of attention that your husband is unable or unwilling to provide you," her grandmother went on.

"Renly pays me plenty of attention," Margaery said irritably.

"He treats you as a beloved sister, no more," her grandmother said tiredly. "The Stark pup must make you wonder what it would be like, to have a true relationship with your husband."

"Robb is a friend to me, I enjoy his company, no more," she said adamantly.

"You can lie to yourself all you want, Margaery," her grandmother said, her tone softer now, and almost sympathetic. "But you cannot lie to me."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed guys. I have no idea if Catelyn and Olenna ever met, but I like to imagine that they might have done many years ago - perhaps before the rebellion. Anyway, I will get another chapter out to you as soon as I can.

:)