Author's Notes: Thank you so much for continuing to read this fic and give your support! As you can see, this is a pretty special chapter with three POVs! I hope you enjoy!

Catzrko0l continues to be a fantastic beta. In fact, it has officially been a year since they agreed to beta TDR! You are as steady and unmoving as a mountain. Thank you so much for your dedication to this fic and all of your hard work!

Chapter 75

Margaery III

"I am very much looking forward to marrying your brother. He has been naught else but a gentleman. I also look forward to seeing Highgarden. Do you think I might be able to visit before the wedding?" Sansa asked with a bright smile.

"I don't see why you couldn't. My family would never allow harm to befall you. We are so very excited that Willas is finally getting the match he deserves," Margaery said to Sansa, who only seemed to grow happier at her words.

Sansa was a sweet girl, but she had a tendency to walk on clouds. Margaery was a tad concerned about what being Lady of Highgarden might do to her because her grandmother would never allow such indolence and naiveté. Sansa was in for a harder time than she imagined, but Margaery felt confident that she would rise to the challenge. She just needed a bit of work.

Margaery was a bit disturbed that Sansa had not yet had the veil of true knights and courteous ladies lifted from her eyes. Neither Lord Stark nor Robb seemed to have an inclination to pull back the cover to reveal its ugly secrets beneath. Whenever Margaery voiced this concern, Robb would always laugh and say, "Is the world so different? Let her be. Time enough for her to grow up between now and then."

So Margaery had done what she could to hint at the hidden, dark underbelly within the Red Keep, but she wasn't quite sure if it had penetrated Sansa's pretty head yet. If this coup happens as expected, then it won't be long now, she thought with pained sadness and she struggled to keep up her lighthearted demeanor. She was not looking forward to what might happen. It could be snuffed out before it even started—as she hoped—or it could be drawn out into a protracted war for the throne, yet again. Living during such dire times was difficult and painful. She would have to worry about the safety of her family, particularly her brothers and father.

Most especially, she worried for Robb. Lord Tywin needed to crush the Starks to achieve his aims and that would undoubtedly include executing her husband. From what her grandmother implied, they wanted to free her from the bondage of marriage and bind her to someone else. But she wanted no one else. Robb was not perfect, but he was sweet. If there was any wonder as to why Sansa still believed in true knights, it likely had to do with Robb. He teased Sansa, but it was always brotherly, much in the way Margaery's brothers teased her. Although he was not without mischief, he was the height of chivalry and honor. She had been disappointed that she would not find herself in a more powerful position than Lady of the North, but she had made her peace with that.

For the briefest of moments, her hands grazed across the flat plane of her stomach. It would not be so flat within a matter of months. Her moon blood had yet to arrive since her first shedding right after the wedding. There had been some mornings where she felt too ill to rise but did so anyway. She was waiting to confirm it with a maester until she was certain there would be no adverse consequences. Her grandmother knew she had refused Moon Tea. She had made her intentions quite clear without voicing them and her grandmother was wiley enough to understand the message. As far as she knew, she was pregnant and she intended to keep it that way.

"Do you think you will be heading back North after too long?" Sansa asked with a troubled look in her eyes.

"One can never know. Robb and Lord Stark may yet be here for some time after, but that does not necessarily include me, though I hope it would. I don't know how your lady mother managed when her husband left immediately for war after the wedding. It's difficult to imagine how lonely that would be. It has been such a treat to be with Robb and everyone else," Margaery replied, giving Sansa a warm look that immediately put the smile back on her face.

"I hope it is still long yet. I would love for you and Robb to attend the wedding."

"We shall s—"

"Ah, Lady Margaery, Lady Sansa. I hope you are having a pleasant walk in the gardens."

Both women turned to their left to find the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, trodding over to them with a wide smile.

Margaery felt her eyebrows rise in surprise but then schooled her expression. A meeting like this was never a coincidence.

"Tyrion, how lovely to see you," she said, then turned to Sansa who she could see was struggling to stay courteous. "Have you met Tyrion? Lady Sansa, this is Tyrion. Brother to Lord Jaime Lannister."

"Pleased to meet you," Sansa said with a delicate curtsy.

"You as well, my lady. You both are looking lovely this fine day. Lady Margaery, I was hoping you might assist me?"

"I must warn you, Tyrion, that I am sworn to never assist anyone who goes against my brother in Cyvasse. I can't be giving away my secrets to victory," Margaery replied.

Tyrion laughed. "Keep your secrets! I intend on challenging you one day. No, but if you'll recall a couple of weeks ago, you spoke very highly of a book, The Rise and Fall of the Targaryen Dynasty. I was wondering if you had finished and would be willing to hand it to me. It sounded like a fascinating read."

"Of course, Tyrion, though I believe I returned it to the archives. I'll show you where it is," Margaery said. She turned to Sansa. "Pardon me, Sansa, but I must help Tyrion. I shall see you at dinner tonight."

"Of course, Margaery," Sansa replied with a bob and a wholly innocent smile.

Margaery watched her go with a wistful look. That poor, dear girl, she thought.

They made idle chatter as they headed towards the archives. Tyrion made offhand jokes about day drinking and Margaery spoke about the history that she had learned in the book, though it had in truth been months since she last had it. They smiled at the acolyte in charge of keeping the archives, who nodded at them cordially. He was familiar with both of them. Their words fell away in the quiet of the archives. Margaery listened for any movement outside their own and heard nothing. It was uncommon for nobility to be seen in the archives since few had an interest in reading.

Tyrion led her to a corner where he frequently propped himself up with a good book. He made himself comfortable and she found a little stool to sit on.

"Let's not mince words, Tyrion. You're here on behalf of your brother."

"Indeed. I'm pleased that nothing gets past you. This will make things easier," he replied as he cocked his head at her with curiosity.

She frowned at his scrutiny but did not speak.

"We have it on good authority that our lord father is on the cusp of making a move. He would not be so bold were it not for your family. He must have a guarantee of some sort."

It took every bit of schooling that her grandmother had coached her to keep her face still, but she felt her heart pounding beneath her dress. Although the language that she had been taught was subtle, her grandmother would pick up on the true message. Was there a chance it had been misinterpreted? Or was her grandmother playing a different game altogether? As Tyrion suggested, Lord Tywin could not hope to have his coup without the support of the second most powerful kingdom, the Reach. His ambitions lived or died on her grandmother's whims. She could just imagine the sort of joy her grandmother would get out of torturing Tywin Lannister with indecision.

"I thought I had made my intentions quite clear. Robb Stark is my husband."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes further at her, no doubt trying to understand her meaning. He was quite an adept player of Cyvasse and would frequently tease Willas to make sudden moves. It rarely worked on Willas, but Tyrion would pounce like the lion of his house when it did. She hoped he was skilled enough to tease her meaning.

"There may be some confusion. My brother wants it cleared up. At least for him."

Margaery quirked an eyebrow at him. "Things might be clearer had he not been such an ass to the Lady Brienne. I gave her hope she held his heart, but he stomped all over hers. I do not appreciate being made to look the fool, even to one lady."

She supposed she shouldn't have expected Tyrion to show chagrin on his brother's behalf, but the smug smile startled her. "Your words are like a hot brand, my lady. I would like to see them applied to my brother. He is a hot-headed fool. But an honest one. I was actually hoping you might do him a favor on that account."

"Oh?"

Tyrion reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. "Circumstances being what they are, he can't be seen delivering this. It would cheer him greatly if you could pass this on to Lady Brienne."

Margaery took the paper and promptly allowed it to spill open so that she could read it. Her eyes narrowed as she read the message and nodded, feeling her ironclad demeanor slip. Things were far dire that she had ever imagined. She looked up at Tyrion with alarm. If he had taken offense at her blatantly reading a private message, he didn't show it.

"I will do this for Lady Brienne," she replied, folding the paper once more and sticking it into the top of her dress. "If that will be all…"

"Not yet, my lady. You seem to know where my brother's loyalties lie. You are not mistaken. However, he is not free to speak with whom he pleases lest suspicion is cast on his presumed loyalties."

Margaery's eyes widened a hair and then she nodded. She remained quiet.

"Would you be able to get messages to the rest of the Northern lords and possibly the Riverlands?" Tyrion whispered. "They need to know their king is in danger. They need to know that Jaime remains true."

So Lord Jaime intends to set a trap for his father, she thought and felt a shiver run through her. It was inconceivable that someone would go against their family. The idea of turning on her father and her brothers made her want to tremble with pain and fear. However, if Lord Jaime's note to Lady Brienne was anything to go by, Lord Tywin had designs for Westeros that Lord Jaime disagreed with and had every intention to circumvent.

Margaery cast her eyes down as she thought. They could prevent a coup as long as her family remained loyal to the King and, by extension, the Starks. The Riverlands and the North were still in the area. The Vale was in chaos without the steady hand of Lord Yohn Royce to guide them. It was unclear yet who controlled them. She wouldn't be surprised if their loyalties split. The Northerners were a proud lot, but even she knew from speaking with them that they remained suspicious of Lord Jaime and the idea that he might go against his family was, again, unheard of. She would have to prove to them somehow that Jaime was still loyal to the king, but how? What was demonstrable enough proof that he would support King Aemon Targaryen?

He had been governing the kingdom under the ideals of the Starks, though she felt that Aemon might disagree with the lack of mercy for liars. Despite winning the Keep bloodlessly, despite keeping his promise to her family that Loras would remain unharmed, the shadow of his kingslaying still loomed large in the minds of most of the lords.

Margaery twisted her mouth into a doubtful frown and said, "I trust your brother, but I am unclear how I am to prove to the other lords where his loyalties truly lie."

Tyrion quirked his mouth at her and replied, "He sent our Uncle Kevan away with a significant portion of the Lannister army. It was not due to the convenience of the Westerlands being a target of the Ironborn."

She remained unconvinced. "I see your point, but it is because of that convenience they still might not believe."

"Tell them to be ready on the night of the next full moon," Tyrion replied. "It's the only day that makes sense."

Fear shot through her heart and she allowed it to show on her face for the first time. Her mouth felt dry as she opened it to answer, but she was too wellbred to be caught wetting her lips. "I will do that."

When she stood and walked away, she glanced at the shelves and did not see the book they had originally come into the archives for. "I believe, Tyrion, that I found the book over here." She came to the new row and perused the tomes that rested well above her head height. Her finger stopped on a blue leather bound book with frayed gold leafing where only the word 'Dynasty' remained whole.

"That is most kind of you, my lady. Give your brother my regards."

"Of course," Margaery said with her usual bright smile. She was grateful that it was almost the hour of lunch and that she would be expected back at the quarters she shared with Robb. Just the thought of him nearly made her smile falter. He was in grave danger, but she dared not reveal how serious the threat was. As fond as she was of him, the Starks were too open and honest to keep such a secret; she feared he would do something rash against Tywin that would only clinch the Starks' fate. Lord Stark's Targaryen nephew was clearly the exception and not the rule. She would have to quietly prepare the Northern forces without his knowledge.

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Brienne VI

She turned the page of the book and felt her temper flare as the paper caught on her sling. Again. She was ready to tear the page and fling the book across the room, but she was certain the maesters would take glee in flogging the skin from her if she damaged their precious tomes. Although she was not confined to her rooms, she hid away after Lord Jaime had embarrassed her at her own duel. Once again, she had been made the fool.

The slice on her arm had stopped stinging as soon as it was wrapped, but the pain in her heart was an agony that had not allowed her to sleep the first night. Later in the day after the duel, a servant arrived with a vase of flowers and a note from Lady Margaery. The note had bid her well and gave soothing platitudes, but it said nothing about Lord Jaime Lannister. Brienne had been in such pain that she'd taken the flowers and thrown them onto her fire before retreating to her bed once more.

Lady Maege and Lady Dacey visited every day. They learned quickly not to discuss the fight or Lord Jaime. She merely hummed or grunted at them in acknowledgement as they chattered about Lady Arya, Lady Lucille, and Edric Dayne during their training. They also spoke of their home in greater detail and reminisced about how little Lady Lyanna would've loved to join Lady Arya and her friends in their training.

Lady Dacey had captured her attention when she mentioned that Lord Jaime had ensnared himself into his own duel right after hers. Brienne frowned, wondering if this was somehow in retaliation to stabbing Ser Osmund Kettleblack, but apparently a knight had taken offense at being deemed a liar by Lord Jaime. She would not lie that her fingers twitched at the thought of seeing Lord Jaime's duel, but even as Lady Dacey had suggested it, Brienne abruptly turned her eyes towards the fire. She drew her mouth into a stubborn line and had refused to speak anymore about the matter.

She had briefly left her quarters when all of the lords and ladies left for the tourney fields to watch the duel. It was peculiar seeing the grounds so empty save for the servants, but the peace was short-lived when she heard the chatter of a large number of voices when they returned just a short time later. She faded back into her room once more.

Much to her consternation, she still had a week until the maesters were willing to allow her back onto the training grounds. She grudgingly conceded to them. Training with an injury only had the potential to increase the odds of injuring herself further. She had decided to start going to the archives for reading material and found a book on the history of the Kingsguard and the best knights of the realm. She had particularly enjoyed the recount of Ser Duncan the Tall with his squire, Prince Aegon. She lamented that his life was cut short by the tragedy at Summerhall.

A knock sounded at her door and she stared at it with suspicious eyes.

"Lady Brienne, I am a servant of Highgarden. Lady Margaery Stark has an invitation for tea, my Lady."

She couldn't keep the snarl from her face and she growled, both in annoyance and that Lady Margaery would have the audacity of believing her presence was wanted. With a great sigh, Brienne set the book aside and opened the door a crack to peer at the middle-aged woman who stood there bearing a plate with a single envelope on it.

If the servant noticed her ire, she showed none of it and simply beamed at her. "The invitation, my lady," the woman held out the plate to her with her head bowed. Brienne reluctantly snatched up the envelope and shut the door with a decisive snap.

Brienne was tempted once more to simply throw it in the fire. But while the unaccepted gesture of the flowers would go unnoticed, a rejection of a tea invitation would not. She still could not risk the chance of an insult and started opening it. She pulled out the carefully folded parchment and then started when she noticed an even smaller slip of parchment fall out. She bent to pick it up and saw an untidy scrawl that bore no resemblance to the exquisite penmanship of Lady Margaery.

She opened up the slip of parchment:

My dear Lady Brienne,

Apologies are in order. I should not have snapped at you the way I did. I am truly sorry. I caused you further pain. It is Ser Osmund who should suffer for his actions, not you. When it is safe, I will give you a proper apology.

I love you. I wish to spend the rest of my life with you. I enjoy sparring with you. I miss seeing you and I hope we will be able to spar again soon. I intend to marry you, if you're willing.

There are forces that I cannot control that are attempting to keep us apart. Ser Osmund was one attempt and I fear there may be more. My father cannot be trusted. Do not trust any of the Lannister forces. All will be made clear soon. Burn this immediately.

Jaime

When Brienne sucked in air, she nearly choked on a sob. The paper trembled in her fingers and very nearly fell out, but she held onto it. Was it another trick? She had never seen Lord Jaime's writing before, but she had heard rumors that he was poor at it. Could she trust in this or was Lady Margaery creating yet another joke at her expense?

She thought back to Lady Margaery insisting that Lord Jaime Lannister appeared to want to marry her and this spelled it out in plain terms. Yet there was caution in his words as if she was in danger. He seemed to suspect that Ser Osmund was set up to marry her to keep them apart. The thought reminded her yet again of Margaery explaining how peculiar it would be for the Heir of Casterly Rock to marry the lowly, uncouth daughter of a minor lord from the Stormlands. It hadn't taken long for the facade to be pulled back from Ser Osmund's ugly intentions in the middle of the duel. Whether Lord Jaime had loved her or not, it had been imperative that she win that duel, for the sake of herself and Tarth.

Brienne shivered at the thought that an entire army might have ill will towards her by virtue of their lord being Tywin Lannister. Everyone knew of his cruel and violent nature. Perhaps it was not so farfetched that he'd arrange for something horrible to happen to his son's choice of bride if he didn't approve.

But how are we to be together then? She thought with some frustration.

She stared at the flames and back at the note still trembling in her hand. Before she could second guess herself, she tossed the paper in and felt her throat clench as the words went up in smoke. It's better this way, she soothed herself. If it was a horrible joke, it was her secret.

With a heavy heart, Brienne once more picked up the invitation and brought it to her eyes. She sighed and resigned herself to the idea that she was due for tea with Lady Margaery the next morning.

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Arya IV

She eyed the Tower of the Hand, sizing it up. She had drawn her expression into a terse frown, but her heart pounded like a frightened rabbit's. Kicking herself for her fear, she stepped in before she could have any further doubts.

Despite what Edric said, she wanted to try and warn someone. Her family wouldn't believe her, she was certain of that. Lady Margaery had been kind to her, but she was not a Stark, and she was too much like Sansa for Arya to believe she wouldn't do anything but scoff. Jon had always had her back, but now he was gone. If he had been here, she would not have hesitated to go straight to him. He was still in Dorne with Father and they weren't expected back for some time.

However, Lord Jaime Lannister was ruling in Jon's absence. She stood by her words to Edric the day before. Jon would not put someone he did not trust as his Hand. Edric seemed certain Lord Jaime was put there for political reasons, which greatly confused her. What was the point of giving positions to bad people? Father had always insisted that bad people were punished. Clearly, despite being known as the Kingslayer, Lord Jaime was not a bad person or he would have been punished. She was aware that Father didn't like him, but Jon didn't let that bother him. She trusted Jon, so she would trust Lord Jaime.

Yet, she was still uncertain about whether she could tell Lord Jaime what Edric had told her. Her friend seemed certain that family did not go against one another, but then Jon had very nearly seen her married against her wishes. All was forgiven now, but she was prepared to spend the rest of her life hating him for the injustice of forcing her to marry. As much as she loved her mother and father, she continued to resist their efforts to turn her into a lady. Both of them had lectured her about how marrying and providing children to her husband was the only role she would be expected to fill and she needed to stop with her nonsense about fighting. At least Jon had never tried to take that from her.

But could she go against her family? It was not a thought she had considered. She had remained certain that she could persuade her father—or Jon—to let her be. What would've happened if they hadn't budged? Could she run away? Leave her family? Just the thought repulsed her, an impossible idea, but… at the point she would be sent to her future husband, she wouldn't be running away from her family. She'd be running away from her future husband. She would have already left home at that point.

And still, her Aunt Lyanna had run off with Prince Rhaegar. A war was fought for her. Her grandfather and Uncle Brandon were dead because she ran away. She still remembered her own father asking her if she'd prefer that he and Robb risk their lives in a war because of her resistance to the idea of marriage. The thought had pained her.

Her next thought had been: But why would there need to be a war because of one, stupid marriage? Would her not marrying put her family in that much peril? She could not wrap her mind around it. And ever since Jon rejected her betrothal, she hadn't once given it a thought. She deliberately had wanted to put that behind her. She was training, she was playing with her friends. That was all that mattered to her.

Until now. Now, she wanted to safeguard her family.

Arya slowly made her way up the stairs, the top of them seemingly ever more beyond her reach. A couple of servant girls passed her on the stairs, carrying sheets or food trays. Arya heard voices through a door off of one landing, but she knew full well it was not the Hand's solar due to the lack of guards. She found the double doors of the place she was looking for on the very next landing, blocked on either side by two stern guards in Lannister red cloth and the dull gray coloring of undyed metal. Their eyes fell on her immediately and she tried to hold her head high as she approached. As soon as she stepped up to the door, both men moved to block her entry.

"What is it you need, girl?"

Arya tried to draw on her best impression of her mother. "I am Arya Stark and I'm here to see the Hand."

"Did you hear that, Geryl? She's here to see the Hand," the guard said.

"Aye, fancy that. And I'm about to be raised to a bannerman by Lord Lannister. You're not getting in, girl."

"I am the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark. I demand to be let in," Arya shot back. She curled her own fists in the fabric of her shirt to keep them from trembling. She was becoming increasingly nervous as the guards stalled her. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, she thought.

Both of the guards looked her up and down, their expressions becoming more sneering by the moment.

"How do we know you ain't some filthy commoner, acting high and mighty? T'aint no ladies who dress like that."

"I'm not a lady!"

"Then you're not going in. The Hand is busy. Run along, girl."

Arya gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath to yell at the guards more for being as thick as bricks when one of the doors gave away and Lord Jaime himself popped his head out. "What is the meaning of this?" He snarled. He looked at both the guards before his gaze fell on her. The irritation on his face morphed into a puzzled frown.

"This here girl was trying to sneak in to see you, m'Lord," the guard named Geryl said.

"No, I wasn't!"

"That 'girl,'" Lord Jaime began in a similar mocking tone, "is Lady Arya of the House Stark. The next time I catch you disrespecting a lady, both of you will stand in the stocks for a week. Is that understood?"

Both guards stammered as they tried to make excuses, but as Lord Jaime continued to glare at them, their voices bled away until they had nothing left but to shut their mouths. They fell back to their original posts and stared shamefaced at the floor.

"Now, Lady Arya, what is it that you needed?"

Although Arya had watched in satisfaction as both men were put in their place, she found that words failed her as she opened her mouth. She looked at the guards, bit her lip, and blurted out, "Are you going to return to the training grounds again?"

He blinked at her and then he relaxed and at the same time he suddenly appeared far older and exhausted. "Not until your cousin, the king, returns, my lady. There simply isn't time these days."

"Lady Dacey and Lady Maege keep turning us away. They also say they're too busy."

Lord Jaime couldn't seem to resist smirking at her and he shook his head. "We all have a lot on our minds these days. Hopefully, they'll be more up to it once Lady Brienne makes a full recovery." A shadow passed over his face and he became grim like her father.

"Are you going to teach us those moves you did during your duel with Ser Lyn?" Arya asked, peering into his face for an answer. She wanted to trust him.

"Perhaps. Though you have to be a bit bigger and stronger for them to work," Jaime said. There was a twinkle in his eye and he seemed pleased at her interest.

"Errm, thanks," Arya replied and began back down the stairs.

"Is that all?" Jaime called after her, puzzled once more.

"Yes, that is all," Arya replied quickly and began making her way down the stairs. She gave a startled yelp as she ran nearly headlong into Podrick Payne, who had shrunken back against the wall and held the tray high above her head to keep from tipping it.

"There you are, Pod. Come in," Jaime said from the doorway.

Arya skittered down around the corner of the stairwell to rid herself of their stares. She scolded herself, Stupid, stupid. That was stupid! Edric's right. It was better not coming here. He had seemed sincere, but the guards mocking and sneering had put her on edge. She hadn't wanted to speak what she knew in front of them. It was only as she had been standing in front of him that she realized how ridiculous it would sound. While she didn't think he'd mock her like he had the guards, she was certain that he would tell her she had misheard. And if he had asked for more information, she wouldn't have been able to say without giving away there were passages in the walls. That was hers and her friends' little secret and she wasn't about to give that away.

I can only trust in Edric and Lucille. We'll be safe in the tunnels, no matter what happens. No matter how much she tried to assure herself, she couldn't dismiss the tug of guilt she felt at not including Robb and Sansa. But Edric was right; no one would listen to her.