A/N: Yes, I might actually be insane. ANOTHER fic. I have to confess I started this when I had absolutely no motivation to write my other stories, and ended up writing A LOT. So, considering how much I have written of this already I figured I should post up a chapter and see what people think. It would be great to get some feedback and see if people think it's something that's worth me continuing with before I spend any more time on it.

So, basically, have a read if this appeals to you and do let me know what you think. I'd be grateful for any feedback.

This is my first Robb/Margaery fic, and I've always wanted to write one, so hopefully people will enjoy!

:)

I

First Impressions

Robb dismounted, glancing around suspiciously. He caught his mother's eye and she offered him a thin smile. Her eyes were wary and she fidgeted with her hands as one of the stable boys took the reins of her horse from her. Robb looked away, towards the heart of Renly's camp. He hadn't wanted to come, it had been against every instinct to ride away from the majority of his army with only three hundred men. His lords had tried to insist he take more, but he had refused. He did not want to draw unnecessary attention, and he most certainly did not want to leave his army too depleted.

If he had had his own way then his mother would have conducted this negotiation alone. She had refused though. What she wanted was to go back to Winterfell, but he had needed her help with Renly. Despite his pleas, though, she had refused to go without him. He will see it as an insult, you sending me in your place. He had protested, but she had had more to say. I went alone to Walder Frey. You were not happy with the price then, I would not have you displeased with me again, not when it is this important.

She'd had him then and he had agreed to go, grudgingly. His lords had been supportive, though they were all full of contradicting pieces of advice. He had left them in charge of his men and ridden ahead. His army were following, though he had commanded them to make camp out of sight of Renly's army. Robb could not know how the negotiations would go, and Renly had five times his number. If anything went wrong, he could quite easily lose everything.

He handed his own horse's reins to his squire, Olyvar, managing a grim smile for his new companion. Despite his distaste at the deal his mother had made with Walder Frey, he was pleased at least that he got along well with Olyvar. As for the rest…well, he would not have to think of that until the war was over. With luck, Renly could help him with that.

Before he could think of what to do next two men with stags emblazoned across the chest plates of their armour came towards him. Guards, he assumed. They did not look worried, nor hostile, and their blades remained sheathed as they came closer. Taking heart from that, Robb stepped towards them and offered a small, amiable smile.

"Lord Stark?" one of them enquired.

"Aye," he confirmed. He knew he should have corrected them, he was king now, but he did not think it best to begin by squabbling over titles.

"His Grace is being entertained at a tourney, he would be honoured if you would join him," the man continued. "However, he understands that you may wish to wash up and rest after such a long journey. A tent has been set aside for you, and there are places for your men."

"That is most kind," Robb responded. "If you would show me to the tourney, I would introduce myself."

"As you wish, my lord," he bowed shortly. "Please, this way."

The pair of them turned in unison and marched back the way they had come. Robb exchanged a glance with his mother as she came to fall into step with him, and he noticed that she had a slightly amused look on her face.

"What?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she responded. "I was just surprised that you did not correct him, you have a new title now after all. The Greatjon would have been furious with his greeting."

"And that is exactly why the Greatjon isn't here," he replied. "There is only one man here I want to hear name me 'your Grace', and it is not that man."

"I wish I could tell you what kind of reception you will have," she said seriously.

"So do I," he sighed.

He said no more, and neither did his mother, as they approached the make shift tourney ground. It didn't sit well with him that Renly was just sat here putting on tourneys while the kingdoms fell into war around him. He had one hundred thousand men. If Robb had been gifted that force himself, he would have used it by now.

Still, he did not have time to brood over what he could do with so many men, he was being led round to the side of the tourney ground and the clashing of steel wrung in his ears. The two guards leading him there halted and he came to a stop between them, his mother waiting just a pace behind him. Robb's eyes drew first to the two men fighting in the tourney space, noting the fine armour and quick footwork of the smaller knight.

He tore his eyes from the bout after a moment, searching for the youngest Baratheon. Renly wasn't difficult to find, sat up on a raised platform with a crown atop his head. Even from a distance Robb could see it was well made and fitted. It suited the man who wore it well, Robb could tell that he was tall and well-built even though he was reclining easily on a throne. His beard was neatly cropped and his hair had been combed tidily.

Robb wondered how he would appear in contrast. Perhaps he ought to have taken up the offer of a wash and a rest. He was about to murmur as much to his mother when his eyes slid to the woman sat next to Renly. She was a beauty, and no mistake about it, soft brown curls tumbling enticingly down her shoulders, and big brown eyes. Her dress was made of fine silks and far lowlier cut than he had ever seen adorning a woman of the North. Robb cleared his throat and lifted his eyes from her exposed flesh, feeling a tinge of heat on his cheeks.

Almost in the same instant the girl was on her feet, her own cheeks flushed. The pinkness making her even more beguiling. Robb was enraptured as she practically bounced on the balls of her feet. She clapped her hands together, calling out encouragement for Highgarden. It occurred to him then who she must be – Margaery Tyrell, he should have known. Of course Renly would have taken a queen from a powerful family. It is what Robb himself should have done. His fist clenched slightly in bitterness – he would get a Frey girl and there was nothing to be done about it.

Still, he could not help but watch Margaery as she watched the bout. She was married to the man he hoped to make his ally, and he was betrothed elsewhere, but there was no harm in looking. He looked back to the fight as her excitement faded, seeing the smaller of the two men falling to the ground. The larger man pulled a dagger from a sheath, straddling the fallen man and putting it to his exposed throat.

"Yield! Yield!" the fallen knight conceded, and the larger stood up and offered a hand.

Robb noted the gilt roses on the defeated man's armour, and his sullen stance as he removed his helm. He looked astonishingly like Margaery, and Robb could only assume he was beholding Loras Tyrell – famed Knight of the Flowers. Curiously he looked towards the man who had beaten him, seeing his helm still firmly in place.

"Well fought!" Renly was on his feet now, with a wide smile on his face. "Come forward, come; remove your helmet!"

The man did as he was bid, walking to the platform and kneeling before Renly and his queen before rising up to his feet and pulling the helm from his head. Robb did a double take then, and he was not the only one. Many murmured around him, and there were a few sniggers directed towards the scowling Loras Tyrell. Robb had to supress a slight smirk himself at the sour look on the handsome man's face as it dawned on him and all those watching that he had just been defeated by a woman.

"Lady Brienne, you are even more fearsome than I heard tell," Renly was all smiles. "You are our most worthy champion, now you must name your prize, and if it is within my power to give it then it is yours."

Robb watched keenly along with everyone else, curious as to what this Lady Brienne would ask. She was silent for a moment, and the crowd all seemed to wait with baited breath. She went down on one knee before Renly again in the next instant, raising her head to look up at him.

"I only ask, your Grace, that you allow me the honour of protecting and serving you at all times," she spoke clearly. "Would you honour me with a place in your Kingsguard?"

Robb's eyes flickered to Loras Tyrell at the request, a look of annoyance on the young knight's face as he seemed to shake his head slightly from side to side. He moved his gaze back to Renly, seeing the King bite his lip for a moment before he clapped his hands loudly together.

"Done!" he declared happily. The crowd clapped his declaration, and Robb joined in politely.

Renly's eyes then slid towards Robb for the first time. He at first seemed to frown slightly in confusion before his gaze slipped to the side and clearly landed on Robb's mother. Recognition replaced confusion then, and Renly held his arm out to beckon them forwards. The same two guards flanked them as they approached the platform. Robb tried to keep his gaze away from Margaery but he couldn't help a sly glance. She was even more beautiful up close, and he wondered if it was wishful thinking that had him seeing a curious look in her eyes as she looked back at him.

"Presenting Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and Lady Catelyn Stark, of Winterfell," one of the guards announced clearly.

"Lord Stark," Renly's smile was wide as he appraised Robb for a moment. "And Lady Catelyn," he bowed his head towards his mother. "So wonderful to see you again after so many years. May I present my queen, Margaery, of House Tyrell."

So Robb had guessed rightly there, at least.

"A pleasure," his mother bowed her head in return.

"You are most welcome here," Margaery spoke warmly. "Both of you," she added, her eyes meeting Robb's for a moment. "I am so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he and his mother both spoke in unison.

"I promise you here, now," Renly spoke again, "that I will get justice for Ned. I will deliver Joffrey's head to you, my lady, you can be assured of that."

"There was me promising my mother that same thing," Robb said, raising one brow.

Renly fixed him with a look for a long moment, and Robb's heart hammered hard against his ribs. He relaxed though as Renly began to laugh heartily. "Quite right, quite right," Renly rose up from his throne and reached his hand out towards his wife. Margaery placed her hand in his and he turned and drew it up to his lips for a moment. "If you will excuse me, my queen," he continued. "Young Stark and I have much to discuss. Perhaps you could show Lady Catelyn to her tent?"

"Of course, my love," Margaery returned with a smile, rising to her feet.

"I trust you will be most comfortable, my lady," Renly nodded to Robb's mother. "Would you walk with me, Robb?"

"Certainly," Robb returned. He was unsure how to address him, so he said no more, merely falling into step with him as he came down from the platform and gestured Robb to accompany him.

"I am sorry, about your father," Renly said as they walked away from the crowds. "He was probably the least treacherous man I knew. I warned him about Cersei and Joffrey, I offered him men to help take them into custody when Robert was dying but…"

"He wouldn't have thought it honourable," Robb could see it all too well. Honour had killed his father.

"Yes," Renly agreed. "I am sorry I left him at the Capital, but there was no more I could do for him. If I had not fled when I did then I would not be here now. I would be languishing in the cells, or more likely, have met the same cruel fate as your father."

"I don't blame you for what happened to my father, if I did, I would not be here," Robb said.

"And why are you here, may I ask?" Renly returned.

"I think you and I both know the answer to that," Robb answered him, and Renly halted.

"You want an alliance, and I'm your best option," Renly said astutely. "Who can blame you? I have one hundred thousand men behind me, and the might and wealth of Highgarden."

"Exactly, who could blame me?" Robb shrugged, and Renly grinned.

"I like you already," he chuckled. "And I liked your father, very much. He was a good friend to me, and he did his best to be a good and just Hand – Robert didn't make it easy for him, but he did what he could. I truly do want to avenge his death, though, not as much as you of course."

"I want my sisters back, and I want my father buried with dignity," Robb said.

"And you want the North," Renly said, meeting his eyes.

"My lords named me King in the North, and I accepted the title," Robb said calmly.

"And the Riverlands have declared you their king too, haven't they?" Renly raised a brow. "You are quickly collecting Kingdoms, Stark. I will have nothing left to fight for at this rate."

"I won't give up the North," Robb said quietly, but defiantly.

"But we can put the Riverlands back on the table?" Renly asked, meeting his eyes.

"When this is over with, yes," Robb said. The River Lords had only followed him because of his uncle Edmure, and he knew Edmure would happily bend the knee to Renly if Robb assured him it was the right thing to do. What he needed was time to see if it was the right thing.

"And what do I get in return?" Renly asked.

"You have the Stormlands and the Reach behind you already. I can give you the North and the Riverlands. Dorne has no love for the Lannisters, they will keep out of this. The Vale will not march, believe me, my mother has already tried to persuade Lady Arryn. In short, we combined can easily best the Lannisters," Robb concluded.

"And my brother?" Renly raised a brow.

"You cannot deny he has the better claim," Robb said honestly.

"You cannot deny my numbers will crush him," Renly said, and Robb smiled wryly.

"I suppose not," Robb conceded.

"You have heard what he's done, haven't you? On Dragonstone?" Renly asked seriously.

"My attentions have been rather focused elsewhere," Robb answered.

"Of course," Renly nodded. "But you ought to know this, by the Gods, all the Seven Kingdoms ought to know this. Stannis cannot take the throne – better claim or not – not when he would destroy the Gods themselves."

"What are you talking about?" Robb asked, a frown creasing his brow now.

"In here," Renly gestured towards the tent they had come to a stop beside. Robb entered ahead of him at his insistence, assuming it to be Renly's own tent given how finely it was decorated. "Wine?" Renly asked from behind him, and Robb turned.

"Aye, thank you," he replied.

Renly poured them both a cup and handed Robb his before raising his own. "To friendship," he said, and Robb knocked his cup against Renly's, repeating the sentiment before taking a long sip. He was beginning to feel the ride here now, but he sensed Renly wanted to tell him something important, and he also sensed that he may be closer to an alliance than he had dared to hope he would be on the way here.

"You wanted to tell me something about Stannis?" Robb prompted after a moment.

"Yes," Renly nodded, looking troubled. "I have spies on Dragonstone, of course, and their latest reports have been disturbing to say the least."

"What..?" Robb began.

"Stannis has taken up with a priestess, or witch, may be a more appropriate term for her," Renly said, and Robb frowned again. "She had effigies of the Seven burned on the beaches, and has been preaching against them – claiming her own God, R'hllor, is the one true God. She has named Stannis a prophet reborn and he is allowing her to conduct this madness. If he takes the throne, Robb, worship of the Seven will be outlawed. How can we allow that to happen? How can we expect the people to forsake their Gods? We cannot allow it, Stannis must not be allowed to take the Iron Throne – better claim or not."

"Gods…" Robb wasn't sure what else to say, so he took another long gulp of wine.

"I know, it is madness," Renly shook his head. "Stannis was never pious, but I never thought he would turn his back on the Seven like this. This witch must have bewitched him well. But what worries me most, Robb, is where it will lead. Do you suppose this woman will be content with burning effigies? How long before it is Septons and Septas on her pyre? Or merely those who refuse to renounce their faith?"

"If that is truly where it will lead, then I agree it must be stopped. We need tolerance, no matter our differences in those we worship," Robb said.

"Precisely!" Renly drained his cup and set it aside, clapping his hands together. "Just look at you and I, negotiating in complete civility and harmony despite you worshipping the Old Gods, and I keeping the faith of the Seven."

"So, we are negotiating?" Robb asked with a hint of a smile.

"I do not think there is much left to say," Renly returned. "I want the Iron Throne, you will help me win it in return for the North. You know, I have never been to the North, never wanted to. The cold does not agree with me. Allowing you to keep the title of King would not stop us remaining allies, would it?"

"I never wanted a war, and when this one is done I will not be seeking another," Robb said.

"Nor will I," Renly chuckled. "I much prefer the gaiety of peacetime, and the food is much better. Not to mention the wine – not that I will shy away from this. The throne must be won, and I must do my part to show the people that I am their best candidate."

"And do you think your allies will be satisfied with you severing the North?" Robb asked.

"After lengthy and tough negotiations you and I agreed on a compromise, you could keep the North – with tough restrictions and agreements on trade put in place. You fought for your own currency but I would not hear of it. Nor would I hear of you taking the Riverlands, though you were insistent on it, I would not back down, and in the end I broke you," Renly smiled. "Though, of course, you may tell your lords the exact opposite of that scenario."

"Of course," Robb chuckled.

"I have neither the heart nor the stomach for lengthy negotiations, Robb," Renly shook his head, pouring more wine. "Take the North and surrender the Riverlands and I will be content, just promise me that you and your men will help me crush the Lannisters."

"Gladly," Robb nodded, accepting another cup of wine. "Though might I ask that you leave Joffrey to me?"

"Call it a gift," Renly tipped his cup towards him.

"Perhaps I can offer you a gift in return," Robb inclined his head.

"Pray tell?" Renly raised a brow.

"I have the Kingslayer," Robb told him, and he grinned like a child.

"I had heard the rumours, so it is true?" Renly asked him, eyes alive.

"Aye," Robb nodded, a grin on his own face.

"Then we will have something to drink to tonight at the feast," Renly looked delighted. "I will hold you up no longer, doubtless you will want to rest and bathe beforehand. Your tent is opposite mine, I trust you will find it comfortable."

"Thank you, I'm sure that I will, your Grace," Robb bowed his head.

"I shall see you in a few hours," Renly bowed in return, "your Grace."

Robb fastened his doublet slowly, feeling his stomach churn in slight nervousness. Having seen the grandness of Renly's camp, and how the southern man adorned himself in finery, had made him rather aware of his own appearance. He had no fine clothes, had never had any need of them. At Winterfell boiled leather and simple fabrics were more than sufficient. He took a breath, there were far more important things than fine clothing. Renly was no doubt more interested in his prowess on the battlefield, not how fancy his attire was.

He straightened the front of his doublet and ran a hand through his hair a few times, trying to calm his unruly curls. His effort was in vain, if anything he had only succeeded in making himself look more untidy. With a sigh he gave up, turning away from the looking glass. As he moved he caught sight of Grey Wind skulking in through the tent entrance.

"Decided to turn up, have you?" Robb asked him with a raised brow.

Grey Wind merely furrowed his own brow, before sniffing at the air hopefully. Robb rolled his eyes and moved to the table where a serving girl had deposited some hard bread and cheese for him earlier. He had declined to eat it, his stomach had been too unsettled. Now he was calmer though, it was starting to snarl at him. Still, he would be attending the feast soon enough, so he tossed the bread to his grateful wolf who caught in with a snap and gulped it down in an instant. Robb sighed and threw him the cheese, which he caught gracefully and devoured.

"Can't be bothered catching your own dinner tonight, I assume," Robb said drily as Grey Wind licked his chops. His wolf seemed to take no notice of his tone, padding further into the tent and sticking his nose into every corner. Robb watched him with a half-smile on his face until his wolf finally seemed satisfied with his inspection. He came closer to Robb and nudged his hand before climbing up onto the bed and settling down on the end of it, yawning widely.

"Don't get too comfortable," Robb warned him, before he straightened his doublet once more and made to leave the tent.

Outside he breathed in the fresh air, his ears hearing the familiar sounds of camp life. Renly's camp was undoubtedly more comfortable than his own, but the murmurs and laughter of the men was the same. It was the sound of an army who were confident in their leader, and willing to fight for him. It was a sound that filled Robb with confidence, a sound that allowed him to push away the lingering uneasiness at allying with Renly ahead of Stannis. Though, having heard what Renly had to say about his elder brother, he could not help feeling he had made the better choice. The people also seemed to rally around him and adore him in a way he knew they never would with Stannis.

He took a breath, his father would have understood. He had to believe that.

After a moment lost in his own thoughts he pulled himself together and set off towards the vast tent where Renly was entertaining his bannermen and most prominent lords and generals, and their families. It seemed everyone was here at his camp. Where Robb had few women in his camp, he had seen several here. His mother had told him that it was likely the remnants of the wedding party, as he was only recently married to Margaery Tyrell, and she thought it likely they would all soon disperse back to their own homes.

Robb also thought it likely, more than that, he hoped it likely. Renly seemed comfortable here, perhaps a little too comfortable for Robb's liking. There were battles to fight and a war to win, and they could do neither sat here at Bitterbridge observing tourneys. Robb knew he shouldn't push, their alliance was mere hours old, but he was impatient to know what Renly's plan was and when he was considering implementing it.

Still, tonight was not the night. Tonight he would feast and drink and smile and make sure he showed Renly what a good ally he would be. Tomorrow though…

He shook his head. Tomorrow was another day, hopefully one in which a real plan would be put in place. Now he resigned himself to focus only on the rumbling of his stomach as two guards bowed at his approach and pulled back the heavy tent entrance to allow him to walk through. He inclined his head to them in thanks as he did so, hearing the flap dropped back into place behind him.

"Ah! Robb, come and join us!" Renly hailed him at once, and Robb could feel the eyes of most of those in attendance on him as he walked up towards the high table. Renly looked pleased to see him, his smile and eyes as warm as ever. Margaery was sat on his left, looking even lovelier in an even lowlier cut dress than before. Robb decided to keep his eyes away from her, keeping his attention on Renly as he moved closer, noting that Renly was gesturing for him to take the empty space on his right.

"Thank you, your Grace," Robb said politely as he took his place.

"Renly, please," Renly corrected him. "We are equals after all."

That seemed to catch the attention of those sitting in close proximity. Robb swallowed hard as he waited for a bad reaction, managing a smile and a nod of acceptance for Renly as he settled in his chair.

"Wine?" Renly asked.

"Please," Robb replied.

Renly beckoned a cupbearer forwards and Robb soon had a healthy measure of a rich red in a finely engraved goblet. The cups in his own camp were made of either wood or animal horn, but it would not have surprised him to learn that Renly's were solid gold. Despite feeling rather out of place amongst such finery, Robb did feel himself begin to relax a little as he let the wine slip down his throat. It was heavenly, as was the smell of the food that was just beginning to be brought in by the servants. His mouth was watering just thinking of it, and he accepted a healthy serving of roast ox and rich gravy without hesitation.

Once that was before him he could think of little else other than his stomach for several minutes, only resuming all his senses when Renly called for his wine cup to be refilled. Robb thanked the older man, and Renly raised his own goblet to him.

"To a long and enduring friendship," he toasted.

"A long and enduring friendship," Robb repeated.

"I'd like us to get to know one another better, Robb," Renly said. "But you must forgive me a moment, I do believe there is a message for me. I will leave you in the capable hands of my wife."

"Of course," Robb said.

Renly stood then, kissing his queen lightly on her temple before he made his way down between the tables to the entrance of the tent where Loras Tyrell was stood, half bathed in shadow. Robb watched them as he supped down more wine, the conversation between them looked intense even from such a distance. Renly looked back towards the high table a few times, the look in his eyes almost panicked. Robb wondered for a moment if he should go over there. If something had happened then surely he ought to know about it?

"My husband has never been to the North," Margaery piped up before he could act on his wish to join Renly and Loras. "I asked him about it earlier," she continued when Robb turned to give her his attention. "I hoped he might be able to tell me something about the kingdom he is so willing to sever, but he could not. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"You think he is being rash, allowing me to keep my title?" Robb asked her in return, ignoring her question.

"You have met my husband, have you not? His entire nature is rash, he is like the late King in that regard, I believe," Margaery said, a half-smile tugging her lips.

"It could be worse, he could have given me the Riverlands as well," Robb said drily.

She laughed at that, a tinkling, musical laugh that seemed to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed hard, taking another sip of wine to try and keep his composure.

"He assures me he had to fight you hard to make you give it up," she said playfully.

"I have never come up against such a highly skilled negotiator," Robb replied.

"Indeed," the look Margaery gave him was searching, but she was soon smiling again as Renly approached the table. Robb felt irritation at his reappearance despite himself. He had been rather enjoying his unexpected conversation with the queen. Still, he pushed it aside and turned his attention to her husband.

"Is everything alright?" Robb asked.

"Of course," Renly smiled, re-seating himself. "Just news from Dragonstone, Stannis has set sail."

"To King's Landing?" Robb asked him, brows raised.

"I can only assume so," Renly replied.

"And what is your own plan?" he tried to keep calm as he asked, irritated by Renly's apparent nonchalance at Stannis' movements.

"I outnumber Stannis, I will easily beat him in the field, but why should I not let him diminish his own force and the Lannisters force beforehand?" Renly asked with a grin. "Stannis and the Lannisters can slaughter one another, and when they are finished I shall finish them, and the throne will be mine."

"You will strike the Capital when it is at its weakest," Robb nodded, understanding.

"Unless you have a better idea?" Renly asked, raising a brow.

"It's your throne," Robb returned, and Renly grinned.

"Yes," he agreed, letting out a long sigh. "Yes, it is."

"Will we stay here much longer, my love?" Margaery spoke softly, though her eyes were keen.

"We will leave for Storm's End the day after tomorrow," Renly replied, and she smiled.

"I cannot wait to see it," Margaery said.

"Do not fall in love with it, your place will be at the Capital soon enough," Renly told her.

"My place is with you," she returned, and Robb busied himself with his wine. "Would you indulge me with a dance, my love?"

"I wish I could, my dear," Renly replied. "But I must speak with your father about these hastened arrangements. Perhaps our honoured guest would take a turn with you?" Renly turned to look at him expectantly and Robb swallowed his mouthful, placing the empty goblet down.

"If her Grace wishes it," he said, not knowing what else he could say.

"There, Margaery, a willing partner for you," Renly smiled.

"My queen?" Robb stood, and offered his hand.

"I'd be delighted, your Grace," she returned politely, placing her hand in his and rising up.

Her skin was warm and soft, and the feel of it on his own was all that Robb could think about as he led her into the open space where several others were dancing. He had never been much of a dancer, but his mother had insisted that they all learn the most popular styles – both northern and southern. Never before had he been grateful for that insistence, but he was silently thanking her now as he and Margaery began their dance, mirroring one another almost perfectly. Thankfully this particular dance did not involve him touching any more than her hand. The last thing he wanted to appear was inappropriate.

"You dance well, your Grace," she sounded surprised, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"You can thank my mother for that," he responded, and she smiled in return.

"There is more to you than meets the eye, I think," she said.

"What makes you say that, my queen?" he asked curiously.

"I asked my grandmother about your father, I assumed you would be like him," she said. "And, though I think you are, in many ways, from what I have heard and observed, I think you understand certain things better than he did – the Gods bless him."

"And what would they be?" he frowned slightly.

"You understand that not all men share your honour," she said. "You expect treachery, and, I think, would recognise false courtesies and promises."

"You flatter me," he smiled slightly.

"You've surprised everyone, it is not often my grandmother admits she is wrong," Margaery smiled back.

"Let me guess, she imagined I would be dead by now?" he raised a brow.

"Something like that," she said, taking a half-step closer to him as they continued to dance.

"I imagine Tywin Lannister thought I would be too," he said.

"I imagine he would have hoped, especially after your continued success against Lannister forces," she smiled more widely.

"You know about that?" he questioned.

"Of course, my grandmother knows everything," she said.

"But not about the Kingslayer?" he pressed.

"We dared not hope to believe that that was indeed true," she said smoothly. "You can forgive us for thinking it to be a gross exaggeration, though I am delighted to hear that it was, in fact, a true account. You are truly a warrior to be feared."

"You flatter me again, my queen," Robb said, feeling his cheeks warm at the look she was giving him.

"Only the truth, again, your Grace," she said in a slightly teasing manner.

"You must forgive me, I did not properly congratulate you on your marriage," he said, clearing his throat. "Nor did I bring a gift, as I ought to have done."

"Thank you," she said serenely. "Though you would have had no way of knowing since you were travelling here at the time. I am only glad you did not miss all the celebrations."

"I'm honoured to be a part of it," Robb told her politely.

"I hear you will soon be wed yourself, your Grace," she commented. "There will be no excuse for myself and my husband not to get you and your bride a gift – since we know of the coming union well in advance."

"There is no need to trouble yourselves," he said, unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

"What is her name?" Margaery asked.

"Did you not hear that, as well?" he asked in return, smirking slightly.

"Evidently not," she said, pursing her lips to clearly avoid smiling.

"I don't know her name, I have yet to make my choice," he told her after a moment.

"Goodness! Spoiled for choice!" she exclaimed teasingly, and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure about that," he said honestly.

"You did what you had to do," she said, suddenly serious. "Just as I did. I am sure that you will be very happy together."

"Thank you, I only hope I am as lucky in my marriage as you are in yours," he said warmly.

"You're very kind," she smiled, though for a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of uneasiness.

It was gone in the next moment though, and they transitioned into another, livelier, dance, which left them little room for anymore conversation. Robb did hope, however, that he would have further chance to speak with Margaery alone again, as he had enjoyed her company very much and found himself wanting to know more about her. After all, she would be queen of the southern kingdoms, it was only right that he should be curious, surely?

A/N: So there you are, first chapter of my on-a-whim story is done. Let me know what you think - do you want more?