Chapter Text
With the ending of Summer and the approach of Fall, the Riverlands were plagued with cold winds and unending rain. Margaery Tyrell wished for the sun of the Reach as she rode through the drizzle.
It had been six months since she had ridden north with Garlan and a host of five and ten thousand to support Robb Stark in his campaign through the ravaged Riverlands. Two months after, he had been crowned King of the North and the Trident, and Margaery had become a traitor of the crown. Then two moon turn ago, Stannis found his host crushed against the walls of King’s Landing by Tywin Lannister. That was when Mace Tyrell had finally relented and declared for Robb, making him the King of the North, the Trident, and the Reach.
Margaery and Garlan were the leaders of the Reach force, and she took pride in riding at the head of their column, clad in riding leathers that Dacey Mormont had gifted her, and a cloak of deep green, trimmed in grey fur, a gift from her grandmother, no doubt to catch the King’s eye. When her grandmother, the infamous Queen of Thornes, had sent the present, she had included a note. The Rose of Highgarden had ridden north with noble intentions. However she would ride south as a Queen.
But, despite her whole life grooming her to a position of influence, Margaery had no designs on the King. True, Robb Stark was handsome, with his auburn curls and powerful build, but his eyes held only ice. His words to her were kind enough, but stiff; there was no warmth in those blue eyes. Besides, Margaery had left her heart behind in Highgarden, with her dear brothers Loras and Willas, and her grandmother who taught her all she knew. She was loath to imagine seducing the Winter King, when there was a war to win and a family to return to.
It was currently drizzling, a respite to the constant downpour that had accompanied them as they traveled back to Riverrun from the campaigns in the West. They had spent almost three weeks at Golden Tooth, waiting for the host Mace Tyrell had sent. With Robb having led a successful assault to Ashemark and the Crag, he had decided to focus his attention towards King’s Landing, leaving the Western campaign in the hands of Lord Karstark and Randyll Tarly.
Margaery pulled her cloak tighter as a particularly strong gust of wind pulled at her long braid, chilling her through the wool and leather. Garlan grinned at her, and surely had a jape for her, but his attention was caught by a pair of riders approaching them. Despite their distance, Margaery did not have to guess at their identity, for the massive dire wolf that preceded them was tell enough. She bowed in her saddle as the King stopped before them. Laityn Rivers, Robb’s companion, recently knighted the Knight of the Coast for saving this King’s life, shifted uncomfortably in his own saddle at the nod of respect Garlan sent him.
“Your Grace, is something amiss?” Margaery asked, all courtesy, hoping he just wished for a report of their forces before taking his leave.
“No my lady, everything is quite alright. I had hoped to travel with you and Ser Garlan for a bit.” Margaery gave him a quizzical look. Not having to keep a constant face of placidity was by far her favorite part of being with the Northern host. “I am embarrassed to admit that I know very little of our southern allies. Something I wish to remedy.”
Garlan responded before Margaery could.
“You are most welcome to join us, your Grace.” With barely a nod in agreement from her, Robb slotted his horse beside Margaery’s. Laityn took up beside Garlan, no doubt wanting to discuss with him his recent knighthood, and the four of them continued their ride.
“My lady, months ago, I was so quick to accept you and your men into my own ranks, that I fear I did not ask into you intentions.” The King said after a moment. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks above his well trimmed beard.
Margaery let her answer roll over her tongue, wondering if she should speak the truth or the flowery response she had practiced. Northmen valued honesty and honor above all.
“From the day I was born my life was not mine to decide on or control. When we heard of the atrocities committed against your family in King’s Landing, my family was outraged. However my father refused to act, something I could not abide. It was then I decided I would no longer let others choose my path in life. It was with the help of my brothers and grandmother that I was able to muster the host I did. The plan was to assist you in saving your sisters from the Lannisters—”
“But then I was crowned King.” He interrupted, a tender look on his face that Margaery could not identify.
“A man crowned King by his own people, against his own wishes. The singers of the Reach will have inspiration for decades to come.”
“By all rights you could have left then. You could have saved yourself and your men from becoming traitors.”
“My family may be known for our ambition, your Grace, but we are no turncloaks. Men of the Reach are also known for their honor.”
“Robb.” He said suddenly. “Please call me Robb, I do so hate the formalities.”
“The crown of a King should never sit easy. But if you insist.” She smiled, finding she liked when he was relaxed and informal. “You must call me Margaery then. The Northern disposition towards plain speech agrees with me.”
“Margaery.” He practically drawled. She liked how he said her name like that. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Now it was her turn to flush pink.
They fell into a brief silence before another strong wind sent Margaery shivering.
“Right now the North should be having the first snows of the season. Certainly a change from the warmth of the Reach.” Robb said with a curl of a smile. ”Let us hope the roses can withstand a bit of frost.”
“You’ll find we are quite resilient. Besides, I hear that Winterfell is also known for their roses. Blue winter roses.”
“Blue as the sky on a clear day, yes. But there is a secret to their success.” He leaned towards her conspiratorially.
“Oh?” She leaned in as well.
“You see, Winterfell is built atop a network of hot springs. We are able to grow many flowers in the glass gardens because of the warmth. The waters also keep the castle warm, even during the strongest of blizzards.”
“That is a very damning secret. If the southerners knew, you Starks would lose all of your reputation. Imagine the outrage when the cold as ice Starks are found to be lovers of flowers and hot water.” She left out a chuckle. “You know there is a rumor in the Reach that Starks only bath in snowmelt.”
Robb feigned shock. “My dear lady Margaery, I am appalled. To think that you engage in such gossip.” They both laughed. “In actuality, it is not uncommon to find children playing in the Godswood in the hot pools. The gods know my mother was wroth when she found myself and my siblings in them instead of at our lessons.”
“I think I would like to see these springs.” She said before she could catch herself. Seven, she was bold today. Robb looked at her a moment, studying.
“Then I shall take you to them.” He said softly.