A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been nearly a year and I can't believe how fast that time has gone. I hope there are still some of you out there who remember this story and haven't given up on an update!

As far as excuses go I think becoming a mum is a good one, baby is doing so well and she's absolutely amazing. I've very recently started writing again while she naps, now my brain doesn't feel like total mush anymore.

Anyway, I can't promise you regular updates but I can promise you that's I'll do my best. I will finish this story, it just might take a while! I'm going to do my best to update my other stories as well. I have posted a chapter for Wolf Pact already, but I am a little stuck on United We Stand so it may take me a little longer to get that chapter out. It's coming though, and hopefully the wait won't be as long for another one.

All I can do is my best, thanks for you patience. Hope you enjoy the chapter, apologies for any mistakes - it's been so long since I've written I'm not sure what my editing skills are like at the moment!

Thanks to all who've been patiently waiting, you're all awesome! :)

VII

Planting Seeds

Margaery sat at the table, watching Robb carefully as he un-stoppered the small bottle and dropped a few drops of the rabbit's blood onto the sheets before he threw the covers back over them. He replaced the cork in the bottle then before slipping it into his doublet and smiling in her direction. She returned the gesture, and Robb moved towards her, coming to take the seat opposite her.

"Breakfast will be here soon," he told her. "I called for it while you were bathing."

"Wonderful," she smiled widely at him. "How are you getting along with Luthor?"

Robb had taken on one of her cousins as his new squire since the Freys had marched back to the Riverlands after he broke their marriage pact. For the most part Robb had been unconcerned about losing four thousand of his men, but he had been rather out of sorts that he had lost his squire. Margaery was aware that Olyvar had become more of a friend to him than anything else. She knew that he likely would have knighted Olyvar at the end of the war should the Freys have remained with him. There had been no reasoning with them, though. Even her grandmother had tried and failed.

"Well enough," Robb told her lightly.

"I know he is not Olyvar," she told him sympathetically. "But he is young and eager to please you. I'm sure in time you will get used to him."

"I'm sure," he agreed with her.

"I hope the servants will soon come with my things," Margaery said. "It would not do for me to wear my wedding dress again."

"I will ask Luthor to remind them when he arrives with breakfast," Robb told him, looking towards the entrance to the tent as someone called out for him. "Which appears to be now," he smiled. "Come!"

The flap was pulled aside in the next moment and Margaery smiled as her cousin led in two servants carrying trays of food while he himself came forward with a flagon and set it down on the table. "Watered wine, your Graces?" he asked politely, and both she and Robb agreed. Luthor moved to the side table then to bring two cups to the table, before he filled them both.

"Thank you," Robb said, the trays both being laid down, and a plate set before each of them.

"Is there anything else you need, your Graces?" Luthor asked.

"If you could remind the servants that the queen's belongings need to be brought here," Robb told him.

"Yes, your Grace," Luthor bowed deeply before he took his leave of them.

Margaery waited until she was sure he was gone before looking at Robb and raising her brows. "He is eager," she commented, and he chuckled. "That you cannot deny."

"I suppose not," he agreed with her before helping himself to some bacon, blood sausage and a large slab of bread.

Margaery chose a selection of fruits for herself, before sipping down some of the wine. When she replaced her cup on the table she saw Robb eyeing her strangely. "What?" she asked him suspiciously, and his eyes dipped towards her chest. She let her own eyes follow his gaze and saw that her robe had loosened slightly. "Really, husband?" she asked. "Even after this morning?"

"Can I help it if you are truly irresistible?" he responded.

"You ought to eat your food before it gets cold," she mock scolded him. "And then you must be away to the lords. I expect they will be wanting to know when you are planning on marching, and where you will be marching to."

"I expect they will," Robb agreed. "I intend for us to march tomorrow, towards Bronzegate. From there we will wait until we hear news of Stannis. Renly was intent to wait and allow him and the Lannisters to decimate one another before we made our move. I may have been more impatient than he was, but I believe he was right. We will await the victor, and after that we will move against them before they can lick their wounds. Then I will have my sisters back."

"Then you will have King's Landing," Margaery said, meeting his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose I will, for a time. I cannot just leave the rest of the kingdoms in chaos – that would be beyond selfish of me," he said.

"So, you intend to choose someone as a ruler?" she asked carefully.

"Perhaps, or perhaps a council of sorts," he said.

"It is an idea to consider, certainly," she said carefully. "But I imagine the people would feel more secure if they had a king. I know I would, if I were in their position. I would not want us to head into the winter with such uncertainty."

Robb said nothing, he merely nodded his head as he had a mouthful of his breakfast. She would say no more now. Small steps. That is what she had promised herself. Robb was a clever man, doubtless he would realise it himself soon – that he was the man who was meant to sit the Iron Throne.

"I should go," he said, throwing the rest of his wine down his neck as he finished up his breakfast. "I cannot keep them all waiting, I suppose, as much as I would rather stay here with you." He stood up, moving round the table before bending down and pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head. "Doubtless they will be along with your things soon."

"Then I shall make sure it is all put away before you return," Margaery told him and he smiled at her before he moved towards the entrance of the tent. She returned his smile, turning back to her own breakfast as he disappeared from view. Gods, she hated this. They had been married for less than a day and already she was feeling awful for deceiving him.

She had to remind herself that she was doing this for his own good. For her own sake and the sake of both their families. Her grandmother was right, though it pained her to admit it, they would both be far safer if they ruled all the kingdoms as opposed to just one of them. She supposed the Riverlands would remain with Robb, and she also supposed that the Vale and Dorne would stay out of it. With the Lannisters and Stannis destroyed perhaps they would be safe at Winterfell. She sighed heavily. Gods, all this thinking was making her head hurt.

"My queen?" thank the Gods, a distraction.

"Come," she called.

A train of servants trouped into the tent at her word, each carrying a large trunk. She had packed them all the night before her wedding as she had been unable to sleep. Most merely contained clothes or jewellery, but there were a few trinkets from Highgarden amongst them and some of her favourite books. Not that she imagined there would be much time for reading now. She had a husband to keep happy, and she also had to make sure she was always aware of his plans. He was a wonderful tactician on the battlefield – but she was yet to see if he fared as well politically. If he did not then she would have to enlighten him as to how things were done here in the south.

"Thank you," Margaery said as all the trunks were placed down on the ground.

"Would you like us to unpack them, my queen?" one of the serving girls asked.

"No, thank you," she replied. "But if you would ask my handmaiden, Tessa, to attend on me in an hour I would be most grateful."

"Of course, my queen," she returned.

They all curtseyed then before making their way from her presence. She turned her attention to the trunks when she was left alone, intending to pack all of her things away before Tessa arrived to help her dress and fix her hair. They may be in the middle of a war camp but she intended to make Robb proud by always looking every inch the perfect queen.

She sifted through one of the trunks and found a silver-blue dress. It was about the closest to Stark colours that she could find, and was especially well cut. As soon as she could she would have to employ a seamstress and have new dresses made. She had to show Robb, in every way she possibly could, that she was completely on his side in everything. Carefully she set the dress to one side before also putting a pair of blue shoes with it. The weather had been dry since the wedding, so she was hopefully the ground would have firmed up enough for her to risk something other than boots.

Margaery tightened her robe around her waist a little more before turning attention back to the trunks. Putting her clothing away took no time at all, there was barely anything in the wardrobe, just a few cloaks of Robb's. She assumed his clothing was in the dresser, and she confirmed it whilst looking for a spare drawer for her small clothes. There were two free, though she only needed one. Now all that was left for her to go through were her trinkets and books.

She had a jewellery box which she placed carefully on top of the dresser before she started pulling the books out of the trunk. There were not many, but she needed a safe place to put them before all the furniture was packed up on the back of the wagons ready to depart. She opened the door of the side table and found it was occupied by spare parchment and ink. A sigh left her. Surely it would make more sense for these things to be kept in the door of Robb's desk in the corner.

Straightening up she moved to the door of the desk, opening it. She sighed again, aside from a few letters it was empty. Gods, men. Was it impossible to be efficient? She moved back to the side table and removed the parchment and ink, moving it to the desk before returning to her trunk and beginning to stack her books into the newly acquired space. She was sure that Robb would not mind her moving things, it was not as though she had disturbed any of his personal belongings. It was just some writing materials. He would be fine about it, she was sure of that.

She closed the door of the side table when she had finished, looking in the trunk and seeing just a silk shawl left in the bottom. Gods, she hoped she would still be able to wear silks, no matter where she and Robb ended up living. She knew winter was coming but…she fingered the shawl, but she supposed she was just not ready to let go of summer just yet. Margaery only remembered one winter, and it had been incredibly mild in Highgarden, just a few light showers of snow and far too much rain.

She sighed, pulling out the shawl and hearing a thud against the wood at the bottom of her trunk. Laying the shawl aside she peered down, her stomach clenching when she saw the little bottle that her grandmother had given her. Somehow she had almost forgotten about that. She pulled it out, turning it over in her hand, her mind racing over it once more. Her grandmother could not possibly be right about everything, could she? A child would be a good thing for her and Robb. Besides, it would not be long before Stannis moved against the Capital, and once he was done Robb would make his own move.

No, her grandmother was wrong about this. Besides, she may not fall pregnant right away, sometimes it took women months – years, even. It was best she didn't take the foul poison. Her grandmother may have told her it was safe, but how could she possibly know that? Margaery had heard whispers of moon tea amongst the servants, and she knew that if it was made wrong then it could ruin a woman's chance of ever having a child. She could not risk that – especially not now that she was married to a man she genuinely cared for. Not to mention the fact that Robb was a king, a king that would need an heir to secure the destiny of his family.

Gods.

She closed her eyes and closed her hand around the bottle. Best she never thought of this again.

"My queen?" she jumped on hearing Tessa's voice outside the tent. Hurriedly she tossed the bottle to the back of the cupboard and slammed the door shut as she called out for Tessa to come in. Standing up and turning to greet her handmaiden as she made her appearance.

"Shall we get you dressed, my queen?" Tessa asked her with a smile.

"Yes," Margaery returned the smile. "And I have already picked out a dress, so it should be far less time consuming than usual."

Olenna had her most comfortable chair brought outside her tent so she could sit and observe. It was one of her favourite pastimes, observing. She had always enjoyed it, ever since she was a child. Before she even understood how much you could learn about a person from merely observing them. Sometimes you could tell more from merely watching someone than you could from speaking with them for hours on end. People were often guarded in speech, which was a good discipline to learn early in her opinion, but were rarely as aware of their movements.

The look on someone's face said much. For example, as Olenna eased herself back against the cushioned back of her chair, she could tell that one of the guards stood outside the war tent had had far too much ale the night before. She could also tell that his partner on duty was somewhere else entirely. The Gods help the lords in there should anyone try and storm there meeting. With the incompetence of those outside a well organised bunch could kill at least three of them. She sighed. Still, that might not be such a bad thing in some of their cases.

She was suspicious of the meeting, that was one of the reasons she had demanded her seat be brought out here. A small band of the Storm Lords were in there, one of her serving girls had informed her. Unfortunately, she had not been able to inform her of who exactly they were. Olenna would have to make sure that that was rectified. Anyone in her service needed to know exactly who everyone was, even those who were considered unimportant. What people often underestimated was the fact that everyone had something of significance – even if they seemed thoroughly insignificant. Especially if they were thoroughly insignificant, in some cases.

Still, this series of events had been thoroughly unpredicted, and so she could not blame the girls in her service for not knowing everyone, yet. It would be remedied – and quickly. Just as soon as she had completed her observation. Of course, she had had a man join them. Tarly had insisted. The man was big and brash but he was also a wonderful leader of men, and completely loyal to House Tyrell. Olenna doubted that if treachery was indeed afoot, that the Storm Lords would divulge such information in front of him, but it would at least delay any such plans.

Somehow she doubted treachery though. Men who were up to no good rarely discussed things so openly. Which was foolish, really. Such a bold move would make them seem far less conspicuous. Olenna often made her more dubious plans completely publically. That way no one could ever suspect her of doing anything underhand. Not that anything she ever did was that underhand. All she did was for the good of her family, and the good of the realm. There could have been no other reason for her to push for the alliance with Robb Stark.

He was still just a boy, really, but he had a good head on young shoulders and she would be foolish to deny that she was impressed with his military exploits. If only Mace had ever shown her the same potential, it would have saved her having to be here now. She was getting too old for this, being dragged around from camp to camp in preparation for war. What she wanted was to return to the comfort of Highgarden. Which she would, in time, just as soon as Margaery succeeded in her endeavour.

She had every faith in Margaery. The girl was like her, even better, perhaps, not that she would ever suggest such a thing to her. She and Robb together were a smart match, even if he did not bring much wealth or a vast army. The Tyrells had provided that, and he provided the sense and the planning to win the Iron Throne. More than that, to keep it. If the pair of them played things right then they could not lose – they could be the beginning of a dynasty even greater than the Targaryens. Olenna would be content if she lived long enough to see the beginning of it.

As she thought of her granddaughter, she saw her emerge from Stark's tent. He himself had already left, she had seen him several minutes ago setting off on a tour of the encampment with the Greatjon and Karstark. Two fine generals, the pair of them. Brash and northern, of course, but what more could she expect? They would get the job done, and once the Capital was taken, they, and the other loyal lords of the North would ensure Stark's homeland was well run in his absence. She imagined the king would want to visit Winterfell regularly, though she knew that Margaery would be able to curb that when she began birthing heirs. It was dangerous to travel with young children, it would not be difficult to convince a cautious Stark of that.

She watched keenly as Margaery made her way towards the war tent. Raising a brow she wondered if her granddaughter would enter. She paused at the entrance and snapped the day dreaming guard to her attention. Both then clumsily bowed, and Olenna rolled her eyes as she imagined the stuttering fools falling over themselves to gain some approval from the new queen. Margaery spoke to them both for a short time before she turned away, her long-time handmaiden at her side. Perhaps Olenna would borrow her? Tessa was a sharp girl, though she played dim-witted and meek very well, Margaery had taught her well. The handmaiden would no doubt be able to teach her own girls what was what within the camp.

Yes, she would speak to Margaery about that later. Right now she was happy to continue her observations. Margaery spoke to Tessa for a long moment before her handmaiden bobbed an elegant little curtsey before walking away. She did not rush, looking completely unfazed. The girl was good. Olenna would bet her fortune that she was away on some important fishing expedition for Margaery, though. She hoped it would prove fruitful. Margaery, meanwhile, walked calmly towards the tent of her good-mother, head held high.

Olenna knew that walk. That was the walk of a woman who was on a very important mission. She could guess what it was, and she was proud of her granddaughter for picking up the threat so quickly. Olenna was determined to let Margaery work things out for herself, and only interfere should she absolutely need to. It seemed she had made the right decision. Margaery paused outside Lady Stark's tent, waiting there a moment before she was presumably called to come in. Olenna couldn't help but lean forward slightly in her chair, a smirk playing about her lips. What she would not give to overhear that conversation…

"I was not expecting you, the day after your wedding," Catelyn said carefully as Margaery walked into her tent. There was a disturbing air of confidence about the young woman. Had Catelyn been in her shoes she imagined she would have been more apprehensive, more nervous about spending time with her new good-mother. Still, they were not the same person, and everyone had their own ways of dealing with things.

"I hope you don't mind," Margaery seemed to be observing her surroundings. For some reason the scrutiny made Catelyn feel nervous. Surely it ought to be the other way around? "Robb has walked out to check on the periphery defences, and I was rather bored," Margaery continued. "I thought you might be too, should I pour us some wine?"

"That would be lovely," Catelyn said, trying not to feel put out that she was being offered wine in her own tent. "I must say," she sat herself up a little straighter, determined to be polite. "That is a beautiful dress you are wearing – and the colour is most unusual."

"I can only praise the dyers and the seamstress at Highgarden," Margaery returned. "But thank you, you are most kind to notice."

Catelyn smiled, noting the way Margaery swung her hips as she walked closer, holding out a cup of wine. She thanked her before sipping on it gingerly. Margaery sat herself down without permission. Catelyn felt irked, but she could hardly scold the girl. She was now above her in rank, and, more importantly, was kin. She supposed she ought to be glad that the girl was so comfortable in her presence, but she did not. It just unnerved her.

"You must miss Highgarden," Catelyn offered when she felt the silence had grown too long.

"Oh, yes," Margaery agreed. "Though my place is here now, and I would not be away from Robb for all the world. You must know how it feels though, I expect you miss Winterfell very much."

"I do," Catelyn agreed, nodding stiffly.

"Oh," Margaery placed her free hand over her heart. "How tactless of me to mention it. I should have known better. Of course, it is not just your home you must miss, your sons are still there, are they not? Forgive me, my lady, I did not stop to think."

"You were being kind," Catelyn forced herself to smile. "Besides, if the Gods are good then Robb will soon end this war and I will have my girls back, and when that day comes we will all return to Winterfell as a family. I do hope that you will make yourself at home there, it will be quite different to Highgarden; I am sure."

"I'm certain you're right," Margaery smiled sweetly. "But home for me will be wherever Robb is. You should not feel such obligation though, my lady. I hate to think of you miserable here when I don't doubt you would be much happier at Winterfell with your youngest boys."

"I could not leave Robb while he still needs me," Catelyn said firmly, determined to keep her temper.

"Of course you couldn't," Margaery's sympathetic simpering made her want to throw the girl from her tent. It was unkind of her, not the kind of thoughts she should be having about her good-daughter. Gods, she had never imagined mistrusting Robb's wife the way she did, but she could not help it. There was just something about her that had Catelyn constantly on edge. "I was only saying," her good-daughter continued, "that I am sure that should you wish to go home, that he would understand."

"Of course he would," Catelyn almost snapped. "He is my son."

"Yes, and he is kind and compassionate, and clever," Margaery smiled. "And I must thank you for that, my lady. I am a firm believer that children are the model of their parents – their mother's, especially, I think."

"Or grandmothers, in some cases," Catelyn said darkly, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"Of course," Margaery laughed. It was impossible to tell if it was genuine or not. "You're quite right, my lady, of course."

Did nothing phase this girl? By the Gods it was far worse than Catelyn had feared. It would have been one thing for her to be openly scheming, but she was far cleverer than that. The Gods help Robb, what in the seven hells had he got himself into by marrying this woman?

Robb returned to his tent to find a vision awaiting him. Margaery turned from pouring wine at his entrance, taking his breath away. Her dress was cut almost to her navel, and he swallowed hard as his mouth dried in an instant. Margaery's lip curled up at one side, appraising him for a moment before she turned back to the side table and poured another cup of wine. She picked up both cups and came towards him, and he could not help but stare at the hypnotic way she swayed her hips as she walked. By the Gods, now he understood exactly what a dangerous woman was.

"Is something wrong, husband?" she asked him teasingly as she handed him his cup.

"Only your dress," he replied. "I am not sure how I will ever concentrate on anything in your presence."

"How was your day?" she asked him, perching herself down on a chair and looking up at him expectantly.

"Uneventful," he said after taking a sip of wine, taking the chair opposite her.

"I heard you were wandering camp with some of your lords," she said.

"Do you have spies trailing me, wife?" he asked her with a raised brow. She pursed her lips in response.

"I merely take an interest in our campaign," she told him reproachfully. "Were you quite satisfied with how the men have themselves organised along the periphery?"

"Yes," he confirmed, eyeing her for a moment. "Do you really wish to speak of such trivial matters?"

"There is nothing trivial about it," she told him, her eyes huge. "Every little detail is important if we are to win this war. Minor problems can develop into catastrophic problems if they go unchecked. You do well to keep an eye on those seemingly mundane things. As popular as Renly was with the men, he never troubled himself with anything he deemed trivial. You're different, far more aware."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"I suppose you learned such care and attention from your mother and father," she said, her eyes still fixed on his.

"Yes, my father especially," he agreed with her. "He was always full of wisdom. The most important thing he ever taught me is that it is alright to be afraid. He worried about everyone, he said that was the greatest challenge of being a lord – knowing that so many people were in his charge. He said it was like having thousands of children – and you never stop worrying about your children."

"I suppose you and I will find that out soon enough, if the Gods are good," she smiled at him, and he returned it. "Your father sounds like a most remarkable man, I wish I could have met him, though I will be content just to hear your stories of him – whenever you wish to share them with me."

"Thank you," Robb told her meaningfully. "That would be wonderful. I still cannot believe he is gone sometimes. I do wish I could speak about him more, but until I found you there was only my mother, and speaking about him only seems to upset her."

"It must be so terrible for her," Margaery's eyes were shining with tears. "I cannot imagine the pain she is in. I cannot bear the thought of losing you and we have only known one another for a few weeks – so many years and so many children together must make her loss near unbearable. It is no wonder she seemed so out of sorts when I visited her earlier."

"Why? What was wrong with her earlier?" Robb asked, instantly concerned.

"Oh, we were just speaking, sharing a drink," she shrugged one shoulder. "Talk turned to home, she was very kind to me; making sure I was not missing Highgarden too much. I assured her I was not, and to be polite I asked her the same of Winterfell. I did not mean to upset her, though she hid it well I could tell I should not have said anything. I do believe she is missing home very much, your brothers as well, of course. Being parted from most of her children must be heart-breaking, but she is so strong, she did her best to hide it from me. She only seemed concerned with my own comfort."

"That sounds just like my mother," he smiled slightly. "By the Gods, I had no idea she was missing home so terribly."

"I don't doubt that she has not said anything because she does not want to worry you," Margaery reached forward and placed one of her hands on his knee. "Oh, I should not have said anything, I am sure she would be just furious with me if she knew I had caused you to worry. You won't say anything, Robb, will you? I don't want her to mistrust me, imagining that I return to you with all the details of our conversations, I so want us to get along."

"Relax," he placed his own hand over hers and rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand in a soothing manner. "I will not say a thing to her if that's what you want. I cannot forget what you have said though. Do you think perhaps I should speak with her? Perhaps let her know that she should not feel like she needs to stay here with me?"

"If you think that's what is best," she returned. "Though, I would miss her should she choose to leave, I feel as though we are only just getting to know one another."

"If you rather she stayed…" Robb began.

"No," Margaery shook his head, her nails pinching into his knee slightly. "I mean, if she wanted to, then of course. But, if her heart is at Winterfell then I would not be so selfish as to keep her here when she does not want to be. You should speak with her, Robb. Let her know that it's alright with you if she wishes to go home. We will all miss her, but this is about what is best for your mother. Don't you think she has suffered enough?"

"Yes, you're right, of course you're right," Robb smiled at her, before leaning forwards and brushing his lips against hers. "I will speak with her on the ride tomorrow. By the Gods, what did I do to deserve such a clever and intuitive wife?"