I figured out LINE BREAKS! YEAH!
Let's cut to the chase.
Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire
Robb said nothing, instead staring down at his scuffed boots and with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Anger pounded through her veins and Margaery felt like an outsider looking into her body as she marched forward and stood not inches from Robb, looking him directly in his now north frozen eyes.
"What. Did. You. Do?" she demanded in a slow voice, an angry pulse pounding in her mind in the beat to the chaos that had erupted throughout. Robb was going south. Robb was going south.
Robb was going to wed Daenerys. The Dragon Queen. Wed the one who imprisoned him and tortured him for days.
He was going to wed her by choice. Wed his enemy for her, a girl he barely knew.
She felt her cheeks flush crimson as Robb remained stoic and silent in front of her, refusing to answer her question. One question.
Before she could stop herself, she had gathered what strength she had and slapped him across the face, her palm stinging. Outside of her control, tears welled, but she refused to let herself cry. She was angry, furious with this stupid, oafish, stubborn child. She would not cry.
"What in the seven blazing hells did you do? And don't tell me you did it for me, because if you do Robb Stark, I swear, lord or not, I will-"
She was cut off as she felt someone tugging on her arm, pulling her back from Robb. She glanced back at her brother and pulled herself roughly from his grip, glaring daggers at Lord Stark.
Robb heaved a sigh and finally spoke. "I am sorry. I only do what I must."
The righteous anger that had been roaring through her blinked out like a candle in a snowstorm, and a small voice whispered to her "What would you do if you were in his place?"
If she had to wed a Martell and live in the lifeless deserts of Dorne for all her life to save one of her brothers from Arianna Martell, she would do so in a heartbeat. If it saved Robb from a marriage to the poisonous viper and allowed him to return home as well, she would say her vows that very minute.
Could she truly blame Robb for making the same choice she would.
Arya was still red faced with anger, streaks of tears across her crimson cheeks and her dark hair in wild disarray. She pushed past Robb to Sansa, who stood like a beautiful statue of ice, frozen in horror and shock. Her heart ached for the poor girl whose battered soul had to take so much punishment. Arya moved to Sansa and stood unsure for a moment what to do, but Sansa knelt before her sister and pulled her in a tight embrace, and the younger girl buried her face in Sansa's flaming hair that fanned over her shoulder.
Sansa looked over at her, with a look in her eyes that spoke of shattered glass that had been shattered one to many times, in pieces too small to be put back together again. Margaery's heart broke in two and the tears slipped down her cheeks in silence.
"Take my sisters and Lady Margaery to their rooms." Robb said in a hoarse voice and Margaery noted distantly that two Stark men in furs and with grey direwolves over their breasts had entered the room, gently picking up the Stark girls and leading them from the room. Loras remained at her side, standing at her left shoulder.
"Robb-" she tried to speak again, but Robb raised his hand and said "I will speak with you soon. I promise."
He turned on heel and left the room, a silent Grey Wind beside him falling into step beside him with only an empty yellow glance in her direction before his tail turned the corner and he disappeared alongside his master.
She was speechless, and she hung her head to stare at her hands, wrung together and tugging at her fingers.
"Take me to my room Loras." She finally said in a cracking voice, and Loras pulled his arm over her shoulder and lead her out of the room where her life had just fallen to pieces around her.
She sat on her bed and stared at the stone wall, her heart torn to pieces like a pack of wolves tore apart fresh kill. Loras had left her in silence at her own bequest, and she had been staring at the rough-hewn stone wall for what felt like all of the Long Winter. Anger flared briefly in her heart from time to time, screaming at the injustice of it all and that Lord Stark was a blind fool.
But then her mind would ask why she was angry when she would have made the same choices, the anger flickered out and faded until all she felt was a sharp ache in her heart.
Winterfell was suddenly cold and hostile, already feeling the loss of its Lord, the howling northern winds outside sounding like a pack of wolves were sitting outside her window, no doubt the North would respond with a hot fury when word came of the dragon trapping the alpha direwolf. Margaery almost felt herself smile at the trouble Daenerys and Aegon would have on their hands once the ravens were sent declaring Daenerys and Aegon's proposal.
Unable to sit passive and submissive to Aegon's plans, she threw herself to her feet and paced the length of her room, her dark purple skirts fanning around her. Her black cloak hung on a wooden peg at the door, a single silken red head of the Targaryen dragon almost smirking at her in victory. She wrenched the cloak from its peg and grabbed the iron poker sitting beside her fireplace. She stabbed at the coals until a bonfire was blazing, and threw the cloak into the flames.
The black wool caught easily, the black fur going up with barely a minute passing. The red silken dragons caught last, burning away to nothing as Margaery watched.
Dragons killed by fire. If only real dragons would die so easily.
Leaving the fire roaring, she paced around the room again and again, walking what felt like leagues around her bed and watching only her brown boots take one step and then another as fury bubbled in her heart, wrapping around her mind like a poisonous vine.
She was not sure what had brought forth this anger, but it was like a wildfire, uncontrollable until it burnt itself out. She threw open her trunk and pulled everything Targaryen from its depths, throwing it onto the bed until everything had been rooted out.
Almost like she was weeding the roses back in Highgarden, tearing out anything that would dare harm the beautiful roses of a hundred different colors. She was weeding out the Targaryens.
One after the other, the red gloves lined with black fur, the black bodice beaded with the roaring dragon head, the black silken cloth she had been stitching in King's Landing, everything with the house colors was fed to the flames, the orange tongues of fire eating away at them all until only a pile of black ashes remained and the flames died to only glowing coals. She took the bowl of melted snow that Robb had used to clean her cuts and scooped the ashes into the bowl, stalking towards the window. She let the wind cool her flushed cheeks for a moment, staring out over the courtyard blanketed in a glittering layer of white snow. Without ceremony, she tossed the ashes into the air, letting the wind take them where the wind went, just as long as it was away from her, and away from Winterfell. She placed the bowl back down on the stone and hung her head, letting her loose brown hair fall in waves around her face. Her hands were blackened from soot, and the bowl was stained as well, but Margaery could care less. A single droplet of water plunked to the bottom of the bowl when she realized she was crying.
She spun on heel and away from the open window cooling the stifling room, clenching blackened fists together and bit her lip, cursing everything that came to mind. The Seven gods of the south, the old gods of the north, the Targaryens, Robb Stark, Winterfell, even Grey Wind. Anything and everything that came to mind which she could burden her blame on so it weighed less on her heart and shoulders. She wanted to both scream her anger at the injustice of the world and hide forever in her room, where no one- good or bad- could touch her. She refused to let the outside world touch her, and she needed to escape the Targaryens and the Starks and everything before she went mad, took a spear, and tried to murder those dragons for herself.
Her eyes fell on the blue winter rose that lay on the small oaken table in her room, and her mind's eyes saw only Robb Stark's handsome smiling face.
She cursed his name in ways that would have made her mother call her a milkmaid and her brothers proud.
She still touched the blue rose gingerly, stroking the velvet petals as lightly as she could and she felt herself give an involuntary small smile.
Lots of young men had given her roses since she had turned ten, calling her beautiful and delicate and the sweetest rose, and other words that were just noise in the wind. She had flaunted in the affection and attention and had taken their roses and sweet words, flirting as she had been taught all the while. Why was Robb Stark and his rose so different from others?
She set the rose down to find black streaks staining the pale petals grey from her sooty fingers, and cursed herself for not cleaning her hands on the snow outside her window. She took the rose gently in her hands and went to the window, gently wiping away all the Targaryen ashes from her hands and the rose as if both were made from glass. As soon as the rose was cleansed, she placed it in the pocket of her second cloak that hung on the peg, the one that was a light shade of green from Highgarden, the one her mother had gifted her before her leaving.
"Remember that color and light exist." Her mother had told her as she handed her the cloak, with a delicate golden chain at the neck.
Margaery had smiled and said "I am sure there is color everywhere, even in the barren north. Maybe it is hidden under all the snow."
Her mother had smiled and embraced her tightly.
"I am sure there is color my rose, but still…don't forget your words. Your words by birth, not your words to be." Her mother had said them along with her, covering both her hands as they held the cloak.
Margaery smiled and let her thumb softly run over the golden rose embroidered over where her heart was, and a pang of homesickness struck her.
The walls were closing in around her, pressing tightly as if to crush her and restrict her breathing.
She needed to leave. To escape the walls that had suddenly turned from sanctuary to cell walls.
She threw the green Tyrell cloak over her shoulders and stormed out of her room, never mind anyone else or the anything. She needed time to think and escape and just breathe air that was clean and not stinking of heavy smoke.
She fled down the stone halls, walking dignified whenever she passed a servant or another living being, but when she was alone she ran with her vibrant purple skirts in one hand like when she was a small child.
Until she had reached the entrance to the godswood, she had not even known where she had been heading. Stepping slowly into the eerily haunting place of prayer, she felt small cold flakes of soft snow falling into her hair and dotting her cloak. She moved swiftly, knowing her way to the heart tree at the center and without the restrictions of heavy snow to wade through.
The old face had remained unchanged, but that was to be expected. When the passage of hundreds of years and hundreds of generations of people had not touched the heart tree's face, a few days was barely a moment in time.
It was comforting that something had remained unchanged even with the passage of time.
She sat at the foot of the tree, leaning her back against the stark bone white trunk, and tilted her head till it rested against the wood as well. Even with the cold all around, the tree was almost warm to the touch, like a fire was glowing warm and hearty underneath the bark.
The peaceful silence was unbroken around her, like there was a wall around the godswood that kept out the noise of Winterfell and the noise of her thoughts that had been buzzing like a hive for days now. To sit and relax with some peace was beautiful. To escape the heavy weight on her heart and mind of Robb leaving and wedding Daenerys left her feeling light enough to fly.
Willas would have liked the godswood. Her brother was quiet and scholarly, and would have found peace here alongside her. Garlan would have been squirming like someone had dropped a spider down his shirt, and Loras would most likely be sleeping with his eyes open pretending to be awake. But the ruse would have ended once he gave a hearty snore.
Margaery smiled at her imagined brothers' antics, the longing to see Willas's face, her grandmother, her parents, Garlan and his sweet wife, made the pang of homesickness a sharp ache, almost mirror to the ache in her heart at the thought of Robb going south with Daenerys.
"I thought you would come here."
She opened eyes she didn't realize were closed and saw Robb standing before her, wearing only light clothes as if it were summer forever here instead of a blizzard shaking the stones of the walls.
"It seems you have found my haunt my lord." She said, moving over as he sat beside her. Grey Wind lay at his feet like a large dog, tongue lolling out and swiping at his paws.
Silence reigned only a moment before Robb spoke again.
"Margaery, I am sorry. I wish there was any other way, but there isn't. This is the best I can do, and I will not blame you if you are furious with me."
He gave her a sidelong glance, as if waiting for her to stand and scream at him, accuse him and blame him and insult him till her voice failed.
"I was mad at first." She started slowly, testing each word on her tongue "But I understand. If it was my brothers in the place of your sisters, and I could save them from wedding some Martell and living in Dorne, I would make the same decision as you."
I would also marry even the most horrid, evil man in all of Westeros if it meant you would remain here with your sisters. I would say the vows in a minute and throw the cloak over my shoulders myself. She added to herself only in her heart.
Robb nodded and the silence came again, but less weighted, as if Robb had relieved himself of a great weight that had been pressed down on him.
She supposed there had been a weight pressed on his shoulders. A weight that suddenly came with crushing force the moment word came to the north about Eddard Stark's death. A weight that had only grew heavier as time went along and the War of Kings started and ended and all responsibilities fell to him and him only.
She saw his hand laying between them, and before she could tell herself how foolish she was for thinking this, she slipped her hand in his and twined her fingers through his. The rough callouses from years of holding a sword scraped against her hand. His hands told a story of hardships, even as Renly's and Joffrey's hands had been soft and smooth as hers, a life of ease and luxury. Aegon's hands she had never touched, as he had never been alone with her for any length of time longer than a few minutes.
She pulled Robb's hand until it rested in her lap and she asked "What was your life like before?"
It seemed foolish to ask before what. Everyone referred to life before the war and King Robert's death as just before.
Robb hummed something, rubbing his thumb against her hand, and finally said "I didn't have responsibilities. I practiced at swords with my brother Jon and Theon. I helped my little brother Bran with archery and went riding in the Wolfswood. Arya and Jon were as close as blood siblings, but she and I practiced as swords whenever she could escape her Septa. Sansa was afraid of storms before, and always asked me to tell her stories of princesses and brave princes to help her fall asleep. Rickon followed Jon and Theon and I around and we played with him and watched him."
Margaery smiled, and said "You sound happier then. Like a boy and less a battle hardened man."
Robb nodded, and asked "What of your life in the south? I am sure you were a perfect little lady for your Septa."
Margaery laughed softly and said "I learned my lessons, as any young lady does in the end, but I also escaped a few times, when the weather was nice. I watched my brothers during practice with their swords and I played a princess taken by an evil king, and my brothers would rescue me with their wooden swords and shields. I went riding with Garlan in the Reach, read stories with Willas and learned how to hawk from Loras. I played games and had fun and I loved to pick roses from the garden to keep in my room, tied with a ribbon from my collection."
She sighed, her heart longing to go back to those days.
Robb had shifted closer to her at some point, close enough for their shoulders to be touching and for his breath to warm her ear. Without forethought or even a single thought in her mind at all, she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of pine and smoke and Robb that always lingered.
"Do you ever wish to go back to the time before the Targaryens and the war?" she asked softly, glancing up at Robb to see his blue eyes as bright as a clear sky glanced down at her.
"I wish for my family to be alive and well and together now, but I do not wish to go back to a time when we were naïve to the ways of the Lannisters. It was foolish to think that everyone in Westeros shared the same standards on honor as we did." Robb whispered, hiding his face in her hair. She wondered faintly if he could smell the roses Renly had claimed she smelled like always, even leagues away from Highgarden.
She sighed deeply and asked quietly "What will happen now?"
Robb echoed her sigh, his breath warming the top of her head, and sat upright again.
"I will prepare Sansa as best as I can for ladyship, and then pack to return to King's Landing. Then I will leave with the Targaryens and wed Daenerys in the south."
Margaery felt her older anger flicker back to life, just as it was dormant.
"You mean you will not try and find some way to escape this trap the Targaryens have caught you in? You will just submit to them and follow like a dog with tail between legs?" she asked.
Robb looked down at her and said "There is little else I can do, unless you want the Targaryens to take you and Sansa both down to King's Landing, and then Sansa even further to Dorne."
He suddenly turned from his seat against the heart tree and took her face in his hands, rough thumbs brushing over her cheek bones.
"I couldn't save Sansa from Joffrey's torments in King's Landing. I couldn't save J…Jeyne from the Targaryens. I can save you. And I will Margaery, I won't let anyone else suffer for me." He said, setting his jaw stubbornly.
He kissed her then, but this had nothing sweet or gentle at all. Fire ran through Margaery, but it was not an angry fire. She kissed him back just as forcefully, letting her hands clench his hair in white knuckled fists. One of his hands tangled with her hair, the other pressing against the small of her back, pushing her closer until she was pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and she knew that he could feel her heart hammering against her own ribs just as easily. Slowly, Robb pulled away and the fire drained slowly from her finger tips down to her feet and melted away like ice under a southern sun.
Robb still held her close against his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin as he took long breaths. His heart was still racing, she could hear it thundering in his ears.
"It will be alright." He whispered, almost to himself, as if to assure himself that his decision was the right one. He kissed her chastely on the top of her head before moving to stand, and she rose to stand alongside him.
"Before someone finds us." He told her easily, a smile flitting across his face for a moment, and the heavy weight of everything that happened suddenly slammed back down on her with crushing force. She swallowed and nodded, stretching up on her toes to kiss his cheek before he turned, smiling to herself.
He nodded his farewells and strode back down the path out of the godswood, Grey Wind lingering to watch her, eyes flickering between her and Robb.
She let her fingers run through the soft fur around his ears, and said "I promise I won't let him get away. He's staying right here with his family, because how does a wolf protect his pack when he's not there with them?"
Grey Wind locked eyes with her for a moment, looking almost humanly intelligent for a moment before he blinked and his tongue lolled out of his mouth to lick her fingers before trotting off after Robb.
She wouldn't let the Targaryens win this easily. She would find a way, because Robb deserved better than Daenerys Targaryen.
Margaery was a Tyrell, and she had been taught the game of lies and shadows and schemes from her grandmother, and she would put her skills to use to protect those she loved.
The Starks were family now, and she would not let Robb Stark walk away without a fight.
I don't know so much about that last bit, but whatever.
I don't really like how this chapter went, but considering I've rewritten it about six times since I last posted a chapter, this is the best that I feel it's going to get. Sorry if you no like.