A/N: Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter guys, I really appreciate all your thoughts and your well wishes. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and I promise I'll get you another one out as soon as you can.

:)

V

Sworn

Margaery had not slept a wink all night. She had sat up in her chair with a cup of wine in her hand. It was still full, she had only managed a few sips all night. She knew she would have to get up eventually and see Robb. See her grandmother. She didn't know which one she ought to see first. Did it matter? Loras seemed to think she could wrap both of them around her little finger. Loras seemed to think that it would be easy. She swallowed hard, looking at her cup of wine for a moment before raising it up to her lips and draining it down in one.

"Margaery!" the unmistakeable bark of her grandmother came from outside.

"Come in," she sighed. It seemed the choice had been taken from her.

"Sleepless night?" her grandmother asked and she nodded. "I feel your pain, I have been entertaining Lord Baelish. He has some very interesting ideas."

"And do these ideas involve me marrying Joffrey?" Margaery asked dully.

"How did you guess?" she asked crisply.

"Don't make me marry him," Margaery couldn't help but burst into tears.

"Oh, come now," her grandmother approached, kneeling before her despite her age and pulling her into an embrace. "Come now, child, hush. Hush, now."

"Please, please don't make me," she choked on sobs. "There is another way, you just have to trust me."

"And what way is that?" her grandmother pushed her back and met her eyes suspiciously.

"Robb," Margaery whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

"That boy doesn't want the Iron Throne," came the dismissive answer.

"Yet," Margaery said firmly, meeting her eyes.

"I knew I should have stamped out your friendship before now," her grandmother sighed.

"It is more than a friendship," Margaery whispered.

"Tell me you have not taken this too far," she said warningly.

"I'm sorry, if I had known what would happen to Renly," the tears began again.

"You fool," her grandmother shook her head. "Do you have any idea how hard I am going to have to work to get your father to agree to this?"

"Agree?" Margaery wiped her tears away, hardly daring to believe.

"You will make that boy change his mind," her grandmother said warningly. "You will be queen of the Seven Kingdoms, nothing less. He will take the Iron Throne, and our family will aid him."

"It could take some time," Margaery swallowed hard.

"Just make sure it gets done," she said. "I will speak to your father, and you best speak to the Stark boy. You will have to stay away from one another after the announcement is made. We cannot have people whispering. You will observe a period of mourning, and in that time you will not go near him, do you understand?"

"I understand," Margaery agreed.

"Good, now go and make sure he understands as clearly as you do."

Robb had never felt such relief as he did when Margaery entered his tent. He was up at once, enveloping her in his arms. It had been his plan to seek her out but he had been putting it off, afraid that she would never consider his proposal. "Are you alright?" he murmured in her ear as he held her close to him. She nodded against him and he squeezed her tighter for a moment.

"I have just spoken with my grandmother," Margaery said. "Lord Baelish had a proposal to put to her, a pardon for our family in return for aiding the Capital in the war against Stannis, and…you. To seal such a thing they want a marriage arranged between myself and…Joffrey."

"What?!" Robb's heart pounded in his chest. "No, you cannot, that is madness! He is an abomination, Margaery, how can your family consider such a thing?!"

"Without Renly, we are lost," she whispered, shaking her head.

"You cannot want this," he shook his own head.

"Of course I don't!" she burst out furiously, slapping his chest. "There is only one thing I want, now that Renly is gone. My grandmother was furious, but I had to tell her. Please don't be angry with me, I had to do it, they would have forced Joffrey on me otherwise."

"What did you tell her?" he asked, stroking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"About you and I, the other night," she whispered, and he took a deep breath.

"And?" he asked.

"And likely I said too much, I assumed…" she bit her lip. "I shouldn't have assumed but I panicked, and now…I'm sorry, Robb. She is going to my father, to convince him that you would be the better man to follow. But, if he agrees then you know what he will demand – that you take me, as your wife."

"That's all I want," he told her meaningfully, clasping her upper arms firmly.

"Truly?" she asked him, her eyes huge on his.

"I must speak with my lords, though I am sure they will approve," he said.

"What about the Frey girl?" she asked fearfully.

"The Freys will be dealt with, somehow," he sighed, pulling her against him again. "That is not for you to worry about, you are what I want."

"I worry about your sister," Margaery whispered against him.

"Sansa?" he questioned her.

"Yes," she nodded against him. "They spoke so easily of Joffrey marrying me, when he is supposed to be betrothed to her. I know you would rather she not be, but you cannot deny that she is safest while still holding such a position. It worries me what would have happened to her if I had had to take her place."

"But you will not take her place," Robb kissed the top of her head. "You will be my queen, and I will protect you, and when the time comes we will invade King's Landing and free Sansa from him as well. I will not rest until I have all my family back and safe, and that will include you soon."

"Yes," she pulled back from him. "Soon, but until I have observed a period of mourning for Renly it would be unseemly for us to be seen together. We need to avoid whispers and rumours being spread about us. When the arrangement is made I must stay away from you, and you must stay away from me, until the wedding can take place."

"I would marry you tomorrow," he breathed.

"Yes," she smiled, "but it would not be proper and you and I both know it."

"Very well," he sighed. "Well shall do it your way."

"It will not be for long," she assured him, "and then we can be together for the rest of our lives."

"I cannot wait," he said honestly, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead. "Perhaps you should leave the back way," he smiled when he pulled back. "I ought to go and see my lords, they need to know about this arrangement. My mother will not approve, but I need them on my side."

"And what if they are not?" she frowned.

"They will be," he assured her. "They will not be able to deny that you are a far better match. They would be fools to insist I uphold my agreement with the Freys. Even if the Freys abandon me their number will be more than made up for with support from your family and the Storm lords."

"I should let you get on," she murmured, resting her head against his chest for a moment before pulling back. "I expect my father will keep me informed of arrangements from now on."

"I expect so," he agreed, reluctantly letting her go. "I only hope plans proceed quickly."

"As do I," she smiled at him before quickly making her way to the back entrance of the tent. She slipped out and he sighed as she disappeared from his sight. Gods, selfish as it was, he hoped her family would not insist on a long period of mourning. He knew they had to be respectful, but at the same time they were in the midst of a war. The sooner the agreement was finalised with a wedding, the sooner they could march on the Capital and end this.

Robb sighed when he was left alone. This was a huge risk, and he knew it. He could only hope that his lords would react better to his proposal than his mother had. There was only one way to find out, he supposed. "Olyvar?" he called out, and his squire appeared in the next moment.

"Yes, your Grace?" Olyvar asked politely.

"Gather the lords, it is time to sort out this mess," Robb instructed him.

"Yes, your Grace," he bobbed a short bow before heading out of the tent.

Robb poured himself a cup of wine when left alone, drinking it down steadily to try and work up his courage. His lords had followed him and trusted him this far. He could only hope that they could keep faith with him, and trust him once more. With a heavy sigh he drained his cup and slammed it down on the side table before he marched out of the tent and towards the smaller war tent with the direwolf banners flying above it.

It said a lot that all his lords were already present when he entered. Seemingly they were just as desperate for answers as he had been the night before. He had some sense of clarity now, but he needed them to confirm that he was indeed doing the right thing. They looked at him expectantly, and he tried a smiled. He was sure it came out as a grimace, but hopefully the action reassured them slightly as he marched around the table and took his seat as the head of it.

"My lords, thank you for gathering so promptly," he began.

"Is it true our alliance is lost?" the Greatjon asked.

"Renly is dead, that much is true," Robb told him, his confirmation followed by groans. "But that does not necessarily mean the alliance is dead. I have a proposition for you, my lords."

"What is it?" Lord Karstark asked him.

"Renly's dying words were to urge his men to follow me," Robb began. "However, there are already mutterings that half of them would flock to Stannis. There is a chance we can stop them, if we can get Highgarden on our side."

"What could we have to offer that would keep Highgarden with us?" the Greatjon frowned.

"In short, me," Robb answered, and brows were raised around the table.

"What about the Frey girl?" Lord Bolton inquired.

"Hang the Frey girl!" the Greatjon boomed. "Do you know what the Tyrells can offer us?! I assume, your Grace, you mean to offer yourself as a husband to the widowed Margaery Tyrell?"

"Aye, I would, with your approval, my lords," Robb said carefully. "I am mindful that we are in the midst of a war and that I have given my promise to Walder Frey. However, I cannot ignore the fact that marriage to Margaery would be far more prosperous, not just for myself, but for the North."

"It would be foolish to pass on such an opportunity," Lord Cerwyn said.

"Aye," Lord Manderly agreed. "We will find a way to make peace with the Freys in time, but with Highgarden onside we would be a far more attractive prospect to the Storm lords."

"I agree," the Greatjon said, and Lord Flint nodded vigorously. "You should approach her father, your Grace, before this meet tonight."

"Aye," it was Robb's turn to agree. "I intend to, and with the luck of the Gods we will keep this alliance intact and lose no more men."

"If this alliance remains intact, what will be done about Stannis?" Lord Bolton asked. "They are saying it was his witch who murdered Renly, with some kind of shadow magic."

"Blood magic, I heard," Lord Flint said.

"Whatever the magic it is dangerous!" Lord Karstark spat. "What is to stop her trying to get rid of you in the same way, your Grace?!"

"Nothing," Robb shrugged. "We can only hope it cannot happen again."

"You would be safer with a son," the Greatjon said.

"Aye," Robb agreed. "Then the sooner my wedding is planned, the better."

"Then best you go and see Mace Tyrell, and don't take no for an answer!" the Greatjon boomed.

Robb did not need telling twice.

Catelyn sat at the back of the war tent seething as one by one the lords of the Reach and the Stormlands knelt before Robb and offered him their swords. In principle this was a good thing. He was increasing his own army by one hundred thousand. Even the Lannisters would not be able to stand against him with such a force. What he didn't seem to understand, though, was that this was all coming at a cost. He did not understand, the way that she did, what Walder Frey may be capable of. All her life she had been warned that he was not a man to cross.

There would come a day, hopefully, when Robb would want to cross the Twins again. By breaking his promise to Walder Frey he was putting himself in danger when that day came. By doing this he was making a powerful enemy – far more powerful than he seemed to realise. Already he had shrugged off the inevitable loss of the Frey forces. Robb knew they would desert him but he did not care, because all he could see was the gain of Renly's men, and the riches and armies of the Reach. He would get a beautiful, rich, wife and powerful allies.

What he didn't seem to grasp was what it might cost him. Robb had been adamant that he only wanted to be King in the North. He didn't seem to realise that that would not be enough for the Tyrells. They had not married the Rose of Highgarden to Renly only to have her end up as queen of only one kingdom. Catelyn would wager anything in this world that Robb's pretty new wife would soon be whispering in his ear. What she would be whispering Catelyn knew all too well. You are the right king for all the kingdoms, not just the North. You are the king the people deserve.

Margaery had something of her grandmother about her, and it scared Catelyn. It scared her because her son was marrying her primarily because he cared for her, her wealth and her family's army was secondary. Robb was an honourable man who believed in love. She wondered if Margaery Tyrell believed in love, or if it was all ambition to her. Her son did not deserve such a thing. He may not have been happy to marry the Frey girl, but at least he would not have to worry about her scheming and plotting behind his back. Margaery was dangerous, but it seemed that Robb was completely blind to it.

"Thank you, my lords, all of you," Robb stood now, his crown sat proudly atop his dark auburn curls. "Your support is invaluable to me. I swear to you here now, as your leader, that I will not rest until we have avenged the death of King Renly. I will not rest until we have broken the Lannisters' unjust reign of torment. Until our families are all free and safe to sleep soundly in their beds at night. And to seal this alliance, in ten days from now I will take Margaery Tyrell as my wife, and we will celebrate a new beginning. But for now, my lords, it is time to mourn. Time to lay King Renly to rest with the dignity he deserves, and reflect on the legacy he has left behind."

Robb stepped closer to the table and picked up his cup of wine. For a moment he seemed to hesitate before he lifted it high. "To King Renly," he declared clearly. "Taken from the world too soon, he will be missed, and he will be avenged!"

"To Renly!" the cry was called out, cups lifted aloft. "To vengeance!"

Catelyn's blood seemed to run cold as they rejoiced, the smile on Robb's face doing nothing to soothe her. She was uneasy. She did not agree with what he was doing, even now with all these powerful men pledging their allegiance to him. Robb had called himself their leader, carefully avoiding the title of king. How long it would last she did not know. She lifted her own cup to her lips with a shaking hand and gulped down several mouthfuls of wine. The thought of her son being forced to sit the Iron Throne made her feel sick, but what made her even sicker was the fact that there was nothing she could think to do to stop it.

"I thought you would have been happier, dear," Lady Olenna slid into the seat beside her.

"This all seems rather too good to be true," Catelyn said honestly.

"I don't suppose your son can believe his luck," Lady Olenna said tartly. "He came here with twenty thousand men and a pact to marry a dowdy Frey girl. Now he will march away from here with one hundred and twenty thousand men, and a beautiful, rich, Tyrell bride."

"Quite," Catelyn said.

"But still, you seem unhappy, Lady Catelyn," Lady Olenna. "What is it that displeases you so much? Do you not think my granddaughter good enough? I can assure you, Renly was never able to consummate the marriage if that's what you're worried about. Your son will be the only man who ever knows her."

"That is not what troubles me," Catelyn said. "I am sure your granddaughter will make my son very happy."

"Then what troubles you?" Lady Olenna frowned.

"I do not think he should cross the Freys so lightly," Catelyn told her.

"You think Walder Frey more formidable than I, dear?" she asked in amusement, and Catelyn couldn't help a wry smile.

"It is not you that has crossed him though, is it?" Catelyn responded.

"We will be family soon, Catelyn. Your troubles will become my troubles," she said, uncharacteristically serious. "The Gods only know, Walder Frey cannot possibly cause me as much irritation as my son does. Fear not, if he becomes a problem he will be swiftly dealt with, I can assure you of that."

"Thank you," Catelyn said, reassured but still somewhat uneasy.

"You're welcome, dear," she said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and let Margaery know that everything has been agreed. She will need a new gown for the wedding, it will not be seemly for her to wear the same one twice."

Margaery did not know how her grandmother had managed it. If anything, the silks were even more beautiful than the ones that had been obtained for her marriage to Renly. She ran her hand along the fine ivory, unable to help the smile that came to her face.

"Do you like it, dear?" her grandmother asked.

"It's beautiful," Margaery breathed. "I will not ask how you managed to acquire it."

"Best not," she said crisply, coming closer and laying her own hand over Margaery's. "I have also ordered a thousand pearls to be sewn into the bodice. It will be a push to get it done in time, but I will make sure it is."

"You really don't have to go to this much trouble," Margaery said guiltily.

"Nonsense," her grandmother said at once. "Just because this is your second wedding it does not make it any less important. If anything, this is more important, we cannot afford to lose again, Margaery."

"Then we must pray Stannis does not resort to the same tactics as last time," Margaery said.

"Quite," her grandmother agreed. "You two!" she barked at the two handmaidens. "Take this silk to the seamstresses and have them begin work at once."

"Yes, my lady," the curtseyed in unison before carefully folding the reams of silk. With that they curtseyed again and Margaery offered them a smile before they went on their way.

"Now we are quite alone," her grandmother commented. "You can tell me exactly what your feelings are about this marriage."

"I want to marry him," Margaery met her eyes as she said it. "This time it is what I truly want, but…with the war still raging I am afraid of what will come next. More than anything I just feel guilt."

"Guilt?" she frowned.

"This all seems so soon, after Renly I mean," Margaery said, and her grandmother nodded her understanding. "I know it must be so, that it is all agreed upon, and as I said, I want it more than anything…"

"But?" her grandmother pressed and she sighed.

"I know I will soon be persuading my husband against his better judgement," she confessed. "I know it will be more prosperous for him to become king of all seven kingdoms, but it doesn't feel right to be considering coercing him in this way."

"Who will seat the throne if he will not? You and he will only be safe if he obtains the ultimate power," her grandmother insisted.

"I know that," Margaery shook her head. "Though, even if we manage this, will we ever be safe?"

"You will if you surround yourself with the right people," her grandmother soothed her. "And you will surround yourselves with the right people because you, my dear are cleverer than you know, and Robb Stark does not seem entirely brainless."

"High praise indeed, grandmother," Margaery said wryly.

"He has more wits about him than Renly, I can give him that," she said.

"Renly wasn't stupid," Margaery said reproachfully.

"He was in certain aspects of his life," her grandmother said pointedly. "Speaking of which, you need to be careful. I do not think Robb Stark will be abstaining from his marital duty once you are wed."

"What do I need to be careful of?" Margaery asked her with a frown.

"Now is not the best time for you to find yourself with child," she told her sternly.

"What?" Margaery asked, aghast.

"Think about it, this is already your second marriage and you are only sixteen. If Robb Stark falls in battle you will be widowed twice over and no longer a maid. Of course, you have your beauty and the wealth of your family to still draw an appropriate match. A man may well overlook the fact that you are no longer a maid, he will not overlook the fact that you have another man's child," she explained.

"You just assume that Robb will die?!" Margaery demanded angrily.

"Of course not, but it is a possibility that we cannot deny," her grandmother said. "It will not be forever, only until he takes the Capital. Then you will be free to give him all the sons he desires. Until then, however, take this," she slipped a small bottle from up her sleeve and handed it to Margaery. "One drop each morning when you break your fast."

"This is poison," Margaery's hand shook as she clenched it around the bottle.

"Only if you take too much," her grandmother retorted, "take it as I instructed and it will do you no lasting harm."

"This isn't right," she whispered, shaking her head.

"It is only for a short time, with these numbers the Lannisters will be finished in no time," her Grandmother patted her shoulder. "Promise me you will take it, Margaery. Each morning after he beds you. Promise me."

"I promise," Margaery swore, her lips trembling.

"Good girl."

"You look very handsome," his mother's voice pulled Robb's head to the side, and he smiled at her. She smiled back, though it looked somewhat forced. The tailor stuck another few pins in the velvet doublet before stepping back to appraise him.

"How do you like the fit, your Grace?" he asked him.

Robb lifted his arms, and tilted his torso from side to side slightly before he gave his answer. "Just right, thank you," he smiled.

"Very good, your Grace," the tailor nodded. "If I can take the pieces now I will have them properly adjusted."

"As you wish," Robb said, slipping carefully out of the doublet, and the fine shirt beneath. The sumptuous material was a far cry from the simple leather doublet and cotton tunics he usually wore. Lady Olenna had insisted, though, and he had thought it best not to argue. He pulled one of his usual tunics over his head as the tailor gathered up the materials.

"I will have them returned to you when they are properly made, your Grace," the tailor bowed to him.

"Thank you," Robb inclined his head in return and the tailor turned to leave, bobbing his head to his mother on the way out.

"Very different to what I usually see you in," his mother said wryly as she moved to take a seat.

"I ought to make some effort for my wedding, don't you think?" he returned as he poured some wine.

"Of course," she said lightly, thanking him when he offered her a cup.

"But?" he asked her in an amused tone as he took the seat opposite her.

"I only hope that you will not think to change too much, just to appease the Tyrells," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown.

"Only that they are an ambitious family, far more ambitious than you have ever been," she warned.

"I am king, or had you forgotten?" Robb asked her, a cold edge to his voice.

"I meant no offence, only that you should be on your guard," she soothed him.

"With all the Tyrells? Or just the woman who is soon to be my wife?" he asked.

"All of them," his mother said insistently, her eyes widening.

"I know you are against this marriage," he sighed.

"It isn't that -," his mother began, but he cut her off.

"You would rather I kept my twenty thousand men and married the Frey girl I have no name for," he said bitterly. "You cannot see that this is better, not just for me, but for the North. With a force such as this we can do almost anything, and we still have the Kingslayer. The Lannisters will not want to meet us in the field, and they cannot afford to threaten us with the lives of Sansa and Arya while we still have the Kingslayer. Why can you not just be happy for me?"

"I would be, Robb," she told him in a pained voice. "I would be truly happy for you if I could be sure that the Tyrells would just let you walk away from the Iron Throne."

"No one will make me take it against my will," Robb said defiantly.

"No," she agreed sadly, "but that does not mean your will cannot be bent to suit their desires."

"I think you have said enough now, mother," he said, fighting hard to keep his tone light.

"As you say," she bowed her head in compliance.

"So," he decided on a change of subject. "Has Lady Olenna demanded you see the seamstress yet?"

"Not yet, I think she has quite enough with the demands of the bride's dress," his mother said. "I hear the finest Dornish silks have been acquired, along with a thousand pearls. The poor seamstresses will be working their fingers to the bone night and day to get it done in time, without me adding to their burden."

"I will make sure they are rewarded for their hard work," Robb assured her.

"You're very thoughtful," his mother appraised him for a moment. "I do not want it for you, Robb, as you do not want it for yourself, but you would be a king the people could be proud of."

"I have enough on my hands trying to make the North proud of me," he said tiredly.

"They already are, Robb," she smiled properly at him. "How could they not be? You are your father's son, after all."

Loras sat on the headland, opposite the low rising mound of earth which was the only clue that the man he had loved rested here. He fisted his hand in the dirt, hoping that it would somehow make him feel closer to the man he had lost. It still didn't feel real, that Renly would never saunter up to him again with that boyish smile on his face. He had always been carefree and happy. Perhaps that was a legacy in itself. Loras closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to banish the feelings of guilt that had been plaguing him ever since Renly had fallen.

It had been he, Loras Tyrell, who had convinced Renly that he would make a better king for the Seven Kingdoms. Renly had been ready to declare his support for Stannis. Without Loras' interference and persuasion then Stannis might be safely sat on the Iron Throne by now, with Renly in his usual place on the council. Gods, he had let his ambition run away from him, allowed the ambitions of his family to take everything over. He opened his eyes and prayed that they would not make the same mistake again. Prayed that they would not back another ill-fated king.

It had killed him to lose Renly.

It would kill Margaery to lose Robb.

It would kill his entire family if Robb lost this war.

Soft footsteps in the grass pulled him from his despair, and he looked around, his eyes widening when he saw his sister walking almost uncertainly towards him. He smiled to put her at ease, and she returned his smile, though she still had a slightly wary look in her eyes as she hesitated a moment before kneeling down beside him.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked her as she settled. "Shouldn't you be resting, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Yes," she agreed. "Another one, and so soon. It has been less than two moons since I married Renly, did you know that?"

"How could I forget," he sighed heavily.

"I should never…" she shook her head and he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

"You did your duty, and tomorrow you will do your duty again," he said. "Only, this time, you can at least take comfort in the fact that you truly want him. That he truly wants you."

"Grandmother is already talking about him dying," Margaery said bitterly and he sighed again.

"Grandmother isn't known for her tact," he said.

"That is an understatement," Margaery snorted and he couldn't help a short bark of laughter.

"It is all for our own good, though," he soothed.

"Is it?" she asked, staring out into the distance.

"What has she said?" he coaxed her gently.

"She gave me something a few days ago," she told him in a dull voice. "Something that will prevent me getting pregnant with Robb's child. She claims it need only be done until we take the Capital, but I don't understand… She was constantly in my ear about having a child when I was wed to Renly, why does she not want me to have Robb's child?"

"I imagine she has her reasons," Loras said. "But this is not her choice to make, Margaery. She cannot ask this of you. Is this why you cannot sleep?"

"One of the reasons," she said, leaning her head down against his shoulder.

"What else is there?" he asked.

"I just wish I could see Robb before tomorrow, that's all," she said. "If I could see him then I know everything would seem alright again."

"I think you have your answer," Loras smiled.

"I didn't realise I had asked a question," she lifted her head and half returned his smile.

"No one can stop you having Robb's child if it is what you want, not even Grandmother," he said.

"No, perhaps you're right," she agreed. "But I am still expected to convince him that he wants to be king of all seven kingdoms."

"Do you think he would be a bad king?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "No, not at all. I think he would be wonderful, that he would do truly good things for the people."

"Do you think there is anyone better, now that Renly is gone?" he continued.

"No," she shook her head again.

"No," he agreed. "You can live with persuading Robb to take the Iron Throne because you know that he is more than up to ruling. What you cannot live with is grandmother's insistence that you prevent a child taking root inside you. So agree to her first demand but do not give in to the second, not if you cannot live with it."

"She won't be pleased," Margaery said wryly.

"She doesn't need to know," Loras insisted. "And by the time she does know it will be too late, and Robb will more than likely already be sitting the Iron Throne. She could not be angry with you then, especially not when you deliver her a great grandchild to dote upon."

"Thank you," she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You always did know how to speak sense to me."

"Do you think you will be able to sleep now?" he asked.

"Not quite yet," she answered him. "Not until you come back to camp with me and I know you are safe in your own bed. Renly wouldn't want you feeling this guilt."

"I persuaded him to declare himself king, Margaery. None of us would be here if it weren't for me," he sighed, and she smiled sympathetically.

"Renly loved that idea," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He would not have agreed to do it unless he was in total agreement. You are not that persuasive, brother. Renly made his choice, and if he had to make it again I am sure he would make the same one. Come back to camp with me, and have a drink with me before bed."

"I suppose we do have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," he smiled slightly.

"Precisely," she smiled widely in response. "Now, let's get back before someone discovers the bride has disappeared the night before her wedding."

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! I'll get more out to you as soon as possible!

:)