A/N: Okay, so, a little update on how these chapters came together - a couple months ago, Anne and I had a great writing session while I was on vacation and finally posted Chapter 19 on AO3. She also came to visit me this month, so we've been doing some writing while we're on the same side of the ocean! That being said, Chapter 21 will end in a cliffhanger, so we will not be posting that until Chapter 22 is also finished. For now, please enjoy chapter 20!
Chapter 20:
"Do you really think the Tyrells will be open to an alliance, Your Grace?" Ser Davos was asking.
Stannis grimaced, but Melisandre paid him no heed. She knew that his defeat at Blackwater had shaken his faith, but that was of little consequence. "They will," she said confidently. "The Lord of Light has shown me, and he does not lead his children astray. The one we need is at the Wall." In her mind's eye she relived the visions her Lord had shown her - fire and ice, and Ned Stark's son at the centre of it, wielding a shining blade and shield adorned with thorny plants against a raging storm of winter. A triumphant cheer of 'The King in the North!', and the True King's regal posture as he walked towards the Iron Throne, his shoulders covered in dark furs. Stannis was meant to sit on the throne, but it would take Ned Stark's bastard to get him there.
She saw the Onion Knight's doubt, but the man wisely held his tongue. Melisandre was well aware that the man didn't believe, despite everything he had seen. But as long as her king followed the path the Lord of Light had set him, all would come to believe in time.
"As the Lady says," Stannis interjected. "We must keep on to the Wall." Yes, they would arrive in due time. And all their plans could come to fruition.
/*/
Loras trailed behind the Lord Commander as he led Margaery away. He kept his eyes on his sister, watching as she kept her hands curled into Jon's cloak, and Jon pulled her closer. They seemed almost unaware of his presence, wrapped up in one another as they were. If he didn't know better, he'd say they were already lovers. But he knew his sister, and she wouldn't give her maidenhood away without at least the promise of marriage. And if Jon Snow was anything like his father, the man had more honour in his little finger than most men had in their entire body. He wouldn't have touched her in any inappropriate way.
Still, as much as his mind was occupied with Margaery and Jon Snow, he couldn't fail to see how the men around them looked at their commander. There was awe there, and respect… as well as animosity. Jon was a good man, and the Wall was no place for good men.
He made eye contact with Garlan and made a quick detour - Jon and Margaery weren't likely to notice, after all. "Keep your eyes open, and see what you can find out about what these men think of their commander," he whispered quick instructions, not waiting for his man's nod before hurrying after his sister again.
Another man was waiting for them as they arrived at the Lord Commander's chambers. "Sam," Margaery breathed, finally letting go of Jon's cloak.
The man startled. "Your Gr-!" But Margaery had already wrapped her arms around his rotund frame. "Oh- oh…alright, then," the man - Sam - said, seeming flustered as he gingerly returned the hug.
"She saw Grenn," Jon explained quietly. His ever-brooding features were more solemn than usual.
Sam grimaced and tightened his hold for a moment, before letting go. "I just checked on Gilly, she and little Sam are alright. Glad to see you are as well, Your Grace," he said.
Margaery frowned. "Sam, it's still me. Just because you now know my true name doesn't mean that I want you to treat me any differently. Although perhaps you could call me Margaery, instead."
"But you're the Queen! And I'm a Tarly, I need-"
"I'm fairly certain an unconsummated marriage to a deranged boy does not make me a Queen, Sam," she cut him off bluntly. "And I am your friend first. Please. Call me Margaery."
"You're a Tarly?" Loras interjected. "Samwell Tarly? Randyll's son?" Having a bannerman of the Tyrells close by - even one who had taken the oath - might be advantageous.
Samwell bowed. "I am, Ser."
"Let's move this conversation into my office," Jon said brusquely as he opened the door to his chambers. It was clear to Loras that he was still agitated about something - likely the circumstances of his arrival. And besides, it was high time that some delicate matters were discussed.
After they all got seated inside and were handed a goblet of wine by his sister - ever the gracious hostess - they got down to business. "The dead are being burned, and most of the injured have made it to the infirmary," Samwell started. "Maester Aemon is seeing to as many as he can. The surviving Wildlings have also been contained. But we don't have the resources to keep them all here for long." He shot a glance at Loras. "Frankly, we don't have a lot of resources for anything."
Jon ran a hand through his hair. "The Wildlings only attacked because they can't stay North of the Wall." Loras frowned at that, but didn't interrupt. "And I don't intend to punish them for their desperation to stay alive."
"You intend to let them go?" Margaery asked, her voice perfectly neutral. She seemed in her element at this impromptu war meeting. Once again, Loras felt affirmed in his belief that she was meant to be a Queen.
"I intend to pardon them and let them occupy a parcel of land in the Gift, just south of here. They can work the land, and hopefully we can work with them to supply the Wall. Gods know that we could use the help."
"What help could Wildings possibly offer to the Watch? And what of the people south of here? Surely such barbarians would be more likely to pillage and burn than to become law-abiding farmers, of all things," Loras asked with clear distaste.
"The situation isn't that simple, Ser," was all Jon said.
Once again, Margaery proved to be the most level-headed of them all. "Jon lived with the Wildlings for a time. They're not as savage as we've been led to believe. And I agree with him about pardoning them, provided we can make sure they don't pose a threat to the other people living in the Gift." She turned to the Lord Commander. "Can their raiders be convinced to stand down if they have land to live on?"
"They only answer to their King-beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder. He's a man of his word; if he agrees to the terms, he'll keep them in line."
It was a difficult thing for Loras to believe, and part of him wanted to argue the point. If his grandmother were here, she likely would. But Margaery's steady confidence in Jon's decision made him keep his counsel. "Very well. You know them best. Perhaps we can spare some of our men to be stationed at the closest towns as additional incentive," Loras said.
Shooting a smile at her brother, Margaery nodded. "It would be appreciated. The Wall is underfunded and understaffed, and frankly, the way the Crown has handled its management is appalling. Working closer with the people here, and perhaps finding a way to become more self-sufficient would be a worthwhile investment."
Loras couldn't help but smile. "Still every bit a queen, even without a crown."
Samwell snorted. "Give half the lads a chance, they'd give her one," the man muttered under his breath. Loras raised an eyebrow and smothered a grin. That definitely sounded like his sister.
"I'll see that Mance is put separately so you can talk to him," Sam said to Jon, before getting up and walking out.
This left Loras, Margaery, and Jon alone in the room. He was not likely to get a better moment to discuss his plans with them.
"You're a natural leader," Loras said to Jon. "You're wasted here in the North."
But Jon shook his head. "This is exactly where I'm needed. The North is in dire need of good men. You don't know the threat we face from beyond the Wall."
"What threat is left, now that you've pardoned the Wildlings? Surely some direwolves and ice are nothing new."
The direwolf in the corner made his presence known with a soft growl, and Loras sat up a little straighter. The Lord Commander reached down and ran a gloved hand through the animal's white fur. "There are more threats beyond the Wall than anyone can possibly imagine, Ser Loras. You may think of them as bedtime stories, but I've witnessed it with my own eyes. The White Walkers are real, and they are coming."
Loras didn't know what to say to that. He could barely even remember the old tales his nurse told him to frighten him into behaving. It was something whispered between boys, as real as grumpkins and snarks. But he didn't have to believe to see that Jon wasn't lying. And it didn't waylay his plans. "All the more reason for you to leave here. Nothing will change if you stay and keep doing what Lord Commanders have been doing for centuries," he implored. "You are Ned Stark's only remaining son. Bastard or not, you're the last man with his blood in all the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother was the King in the North - as you should be, now that he has fallen. With power comes resources that can be used to shore up the Wall, and defend it from the dangers you say lay beyond." After all, Loras doubted that Jon would be able to convince anyone else that he spoke the truth.
Jon stiffened at the mention of his dead brother, but didn't refute the argument. "Even if I wanted to retake Winterfell and claim kingship of the North, I can't. My oath forbids me."
"To hell with your oath. There are more important things than words spoken before you had all the facts. Even the Gods can understand that."
"It's dangerous to speak for the Gods, Ser. And the Old Gods to whom I swore are not as fickle as your Southron ones," Jon admonished. "I cannot forsake my oath."
So he had Ned Stark's damned honour and stubbornness, too. He looked at his sister for help, but once again, her face was irritatingly neutral. There was nothing there to suggest how she felt about this argument. Which, in and of itself spoke volumes. She felt the need to hide what she desired, which told Loras that there was an outcome she hoped for.
Still, she would be of no help to him now. He'd need to come back to this later. Perhaps if he could show Jon that the Wall would survive without his presence? He needed to confer with Garlan. "Very well," he said. "I need to see to my men."
/*/
As her brother closed the door to the Lord Commander's office, Margaery couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. She knew what Loras wanted from Jon - even the parts he hadn't said. She knew Jon would never renounce his oath, but knowing the truth, and understanding his reasons didn't make it sting any less. She waited a moment. "What will you do?"
For a moment, Jon didn't answer as he stared into his wine goblet. "My duty. I'll defend the Wall and with it, the Realm. Until the Gods take me, or there is no more Realm to defend."
Of course. It was what she'd expected. But when Loras had talked to him, she had been unable to stop her heart from hoping. If Jon were to become the King in the North, he would need a wife. One who could support him, and bring him allies. He would need her. And the longer she stayed at the Wall…the harder it would be to leave him.
"And what of you, Your Grace?" His voice pulled her from her thoughts. "With your brother here-"
"'Your Grace'?" She echoed with a twist to her lips. "Haven't I always been your Margaery?"
There was a long pause. As clearly taken aback as he was, there was a look in his eyes that she knew well. Ever since she had grown into a woman, men had always desired her, had wanted to own her. But Jon… "I…I could never…you aren't mine to claim, Your Grace," he said, his eyes cast down. Jon wanted her, she could tell. But it wasn't for her beauty or her family name.
"One of my husbands preferred the company of men, and was stabbed through the heart," she said. "Another was happiest torturing animals, and was poisoned at our wedding feast. But I didn't grieve, because what I wanted from them was irrelevant. And now, the one man I want to be with is bound by oath to deny me." She almost laughed as she said, "I must be cursed."
"No. Never," Jon responded forcefully, his hand reaching out to her as his eyes bored into hers. "You're more courageous than half the men here, you're intelligent, you're caring, and beau-" he stopped abruptly. "If there's any God out there who would curse someone like you… That's not a God I want to believe in."
Those eyes… Margaery never wanted to stop looking into those eyes. Before she could change her mind, she leaned in. It was just a light touch of the lips - sweet and gentle - before he pulled away. Her eyes opened, and he was looking down again, walking away as if to hide behind his desk. "Forgive me, Your Grace; that was far too forward of me..."
Margaery kept her eyes on his and stood up. "There's nothing to forgive, Jon," she answered softly.
She could see the tortured wanting in his eyes when he looked at her again. Slowly, deliberately, she made her way around the desk, where Jon stood watching her. His eyes were still darkened with lust, and they almost seemed to drink her in as she came to a stop in front of him.
Suddenly Margaery couldn't stand the slow tempo anymore. She quickly leaned forward again, crushing her lips to his and tangling her hands in the furs over his shoulders. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, and she vaguely wondered if Jon could, too. This was a completely new experience for her - kissing a man out of want, out of desire, rather than just duty. One of his strong arms was wound tightly around her back, while the other hand was in her hair. Her hands shifted to his chest, where they nimbly slipped under his furs to reach his body. But she could feel nothing but leather until she reached up to his neck. Jon reflexively tightened his arms around her.
She didn't want to breathe, but necessity dictated otherwise. As their lips finally broke apart she could hear his chest heaving. "Jon..." she whispered, letting her hand trail down from his neck back to his chest.
"What...are we doing?" he whispered. Thankfully didn't sound like he regretted it.
She took a moment to respond. "I don't know," she said softly.
"I don't- I don't know if I can go on," Jon stumbled over his words, pulling away and turning his back to her.
Margaery had to take a moment to steady herself before she curled a hand over his shoulder. Even through all his clothes, she could feel that her touch sent a shudder down his spine. Talk to me, she wanted to say. She wished she knew what he was going through. But she also knew that he wasn't ready to talk about it, so she wouldn't push. Instead, she slowly wound her arms around his torso and rested her head against his shoulders. "I'm here," she whispered, knowing he would be able to hear her in the quiet of the room.
Jon paused. "But you can't stay here."
Margaery tightened her hold on him. "But I could," she breathed, quieter still. "If you wanted me to." And she would. The North might not be what she had imagined for herself, and she couldn't deny that she still thought she could do greater things, but… For him, she would stay.
"It's not…it's not about what I want. You're a Queen, Margaery," he said, his voice rough. Margaery wished he would turn around, so she could see his eyes. "You have to go south, and I can't leave the Wall. Roses don't bloom in the cold."
"I thought the blue winter rose thrived in it. As long as someone cares for them."
Jon turned in her arms, close enough that she still had a hold on him, his arms slipping around her again, almost involuntarily. "And I do care," he breathed. Margaery's eyes grew misty. "I love you, Margaery Tyrell. But I cannot have you."
"My life is mine to give to whom I will. And I want to share it with you, Jon." Her tears finally spilled over. "I love you."
Jon's face was pained for a moment before he pulled her in for another kiss. It was chaste but no less loving, and Margaery savoured the touch. Jon held her close as their lips parted, resting his forehead against hers. Margaery refused to open her eyes, simply revelling in the closeness they shared. For this moment - however brief - she was his, and he was hers.
"What do we do now?" Margaery asked eventually, pulling away and looking into those deep brown eyes.
"I have to stay to defend the Wall. Sansa will need protection, and she cannot stay here indefinitely either." Jon sighed.
"She's like a sister to me, of course I'd protect her," she said, hearing what he would never ask, her tears ignored for now. "But…" she hesitated, her heart warring with her mind. But she was so tired. So tired of pretending that this wasn't what she wanted. "What Loras asked- what he suggested, you could-" she cut herself off. How could she even think to ask that of him? Jon, who was easily the most honourable man Margaery had ever met, could never be happy if he broke an oath he truly believed in. "I wish you were more selfish, Jon Snow. Because then I could have you, and stay with you. But if you were, you wouldn't be the man I love," she choked out through her tears. "Gods why is this so hard? Haven't you earned the right to a little selfishness?"
Jon sighed heavily as he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, fruitlessly wiping away her tears. "Maester Aemon told me once that…how did he say it? 'Love is the death of duty,'" he recalled.
"To hell with duty," Margaery snapped. "To hell with everyone who says we shouldn't be together."
"Margaery…"
Her remaining anger evaporated at the sound of his voice. "I wish I could mean that." She sniffled, pulling back and wiping at her own cheeks. "But I know why you need to stay. And I know why my family needs me to go south."
Jon looked lost. "If things were different… if I wasn't a bastard, and if I hadn't seen the danger out there… I would… I would stay by your side for… as long as you'd have me. But you know the oath I swore. And you know that more lies beyond the Wall than you've seen."
She sighed. "It's no shame that the North needs good men. Only a shame that it needs you."
Jon reached for her, his expression as pained as she felt. But Margaery couldn't - if she let him touch her now, she would never have the strength to leave. "I have to go," she forced out, backing away from him. Jon opened his mouth to say something, but she turned without another word, leaving him in silence.
A/N: Please don't hate us...we'll try not to take another two years to update!
