“Robb…” she breathes, his name sounding foreign on her lips. For a moment she believes she’s dreaming of him as she has many times before, but his smile is all too real. “Robb!” she yells, standing from her chair and running towards him. She flings her arms around his neck as his own find her waist, nearly lifting her off the ground. She laughs into his neck. “You’re wearing your furs,” she whispers in his ear, and she can feel his grin against her cheek.
“I suppose it’s much warmer here, isn’t it, my lady?” he asks, pulling back so that his eyes can dance over her face.
Her cheeks flush pink, and she leans in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He slowly turns his head so that their lips can meet, and she smiles against them, letting his warm arms and wintry scent envelop her. It takes a little while for them to pull away from each other, and by the time they do his face is almost the same colour as hers.
"I’ve missed you," Robb confesses shyly, his eyes on Margaery again, "I also thought it was about time I saw for myself your home that I’ve heard so much about."
“I’ve missed you, Robb,” she says in reply, though it does not seem enough. She counts the days until they’re to be married, saves his letters and reads them over when she aches to be in his arms again, and wears the cloak he gave her when she visited Winterfell for the first time even when it is warm outside. She knows it is silly and her brothers tease her mercilessly for being so enamored with her betrothed, but she thinks herself incredibly fortunate.
Her grandmother was the one to suggest the alliance between the North and South, though her father was more reluctant to marry his daughter off to the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark. He had told her the story of her aunt and Jorah Mormont many times, but it does not deter her. She is not sure her heart could belong anywhere else, not after meeting Robb.
“Come inside,” she says, finally breaking from their embrace so that she can run a hand over his back and give him a warm smile. “I will have the cooks make you something special, and we can dine in my chambers, just the two of us… I still cannot believe you made the journey here.”
"I cannot believe I didn’t come here sooner," Robb counters, his arm moving to mirror Margaery’s so that his hand can rest against her back. They walk inside arm in arm, causing one or two of the servents to comment that they already look like the married couple they will one day be.
~*~
Margaery’s warm welcome ultimately ends up being a stark contrast to the manner in which her father receives the heir to Winterfell. Though Mace Tyrell’s demeanour is perfectly polite, it’s evident in Robb’s face that he notices how often Mace brings up how his daughter is admired by men all across the seven kingdoms, including the king himself. Robb listens and smiles courteously as a noble young man should, but it’s easy to tell that something is bothering him.
His mood seems to improve immensely when he and Margaery have the chance to dine alone later, and he tries not to let on that Mace’s words keep echoing in his head, making him worry that Margaery’s father seems to think his daughter can do better. Margaery isn’t blind to the way her father responds to Robb, and by the time they are finished with supper, she can see the issue is weighing heavy on her betrothed’s mind. She moves her chair closer to his and takes his hands in her own, bringing them up to her lips so that she can kiss his knuckles. “Thank you for visiting me, for surprising me,” she says, giving him a sincere grin, “you’ve made me so happy, sweetheart.” The term of affection falls from her lips before she can even hope to think about it, and her cheeks grow pink again. Her gaze drops to the floor, and she thinks that even if she cannot brighten his spirits tonight, they will have a good amount of time to spend together in the place where she grew. She’ll sail with him in the pleasure boats on the Mander and take him to the swings in the garden and kiss him until the two of them are breathless. She sees surprise register in Robb’s features, almost as if he never imagined to be called ‘sweetheart’ by anyone, and even more evident is the smile that lights up his face. He gives a gentle tug on her hands, beckoning her to sit even close to him, and looks at her with adoration.
"I’m so very happy to be here as well," he admits, and he looks as if he means it. He then falls silent for a moment and presses his lips together, looking pensive. "Margaery, you don’t think your father…you don’t think there’s any chance he might change his mind about our betrothal, do you?" he asks her quietly, "If there’s anything I can do that you think might impress him…"
“Shhh,” Margaery urges gently, pressing a finger to Robb’s lips. She stands so that she can take a seat on his leg, resting her hands on his shoulders. “He won’t do anything to change the agreement between our families. Not now. He’s just… I suppose he’s a bit reluctant because he is marrying his only daughter off to a man who is foreign to him. He knows you are good for me, though. I can see it in his eyes, how they warm when I speak of how happy I am with you. Give him time and he will be better.”
She leans in to kiss him again, sighing softly against his lips and letting her mouth open under his. She thinks it’s thrilling and wonderful to be around her betrothed but somewhat dangerous as well. “We should head off to bed…” she says as she pulls back, shaking her head at her poor choice of words. “I should, I mean… I’m sorry. You… you make me lose my senses,” she admits with a giggle, sliding her arms around his neck to embrace him. She thinks she knows exactly how she will reassure him on the morrow that they will be married.
~*~
Robb wakes the following morning thinking of his future wife. He had gone to sleep thinking of her as well, and of how much he was looking forward to being married to her and having her around all the time. It had been difficult to separate from her the night before when he had walked her to her room, each of them taking barely a few steps before they found themselves in another passionate kiss. Robb had remembered how it had felt to have Margaery sitting on his lap, and her mistaken suggestion that they go to bed together had seemed very tempting. Ultimately, however, both of them agreed in a whisper that they were looking forward to their wedding night, and Margaery had disappeared behind her door while Robb had returned to his own chambers with her on his mind.
Now, morning has arrived and the sunlight streams in through Robb’s window as he dresses for the day. He’s already planning on going in search of Margaery, but she beats him to it with a note that is delivered to him by a servant of the castle. “Meet me in the garden,” it says in her elegant handwriting, and after giving a smile that’s exactly where he heads.
Margaery is rarely a creature of nervousness, yet she finds herself worrying her bottom lip as she waits for her betrothed in the gardens, a rose clasped between her fingers. A flurry of excitement or anxiety floods her stomach – she isn’t sure which - and she occupies herself with braiding a strand of her hair until she sees him.
She greets him with a hug, wondering if she’ll ever be able to stop herself from smiling whenever she’s in his presence. “I want to make sure all of your doubts and fears from yesterday disappear,” she tells him, pulling back to look at him. She holds the rose up, giving a small laugh at the expression on his face. “I am yours, Robb Stark. From now till whenever the gods see fit to take us from this world, which I hope is a long, long time from now. I look forward to every moment with you.” She pauses, reaching for his hand with her free one. “I love you,” she whispers, her heart giving a leap in her chest. She takes a few steps forward and tilts her head up to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Robb thinks it just as well as Margaery kisses him, since her words leave him momentarily speechless. When she pulls away from him his gaze shows a mixture of strong affection and something close to disbelief. “I love you, sweetheart,” he says, his fingers still gently holding the rose she gave him, “If it were up to me I would marry you tomorrow.”
Margaery did not know what it would feel like to have Robb return her words, and before she spoke them she was not even sure he would be saying them back. Her heart swells with love as she looks up at him, and she wraps her arms around him once more. “Soon, my love,” she replies with a smile, feeling his heart beat against her cheek, “we will not have to wait much longer.”