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Chapter 76

Margaery IV

She was pleased as she walked back to her rooms after her tea with Lady Brienne. The poor woman was confused about Lord Jaime's expectations for her and Margaery couldn't blame her in the slightest. It would be a step too far to explain the dangers, even with Butters the Fool screaming his melodies mere feet away, but Margaery did her best to assuage her fears. The situation between her and Jaime was surprisingly complicated and for the first time Margaery was grateful to have a straightforward alliance between two lord paramounts of relatively equal status. It chilled her to the bone to think about what Lord Tywin would do to keep his son from marrying a woman of such minor importance as Lady Brienne.

Under normal circumstances, there would be some grumbling and huffing and the lord paramount would remind the minor house of their good fortune, perhaps. But this was Lord Tywin. A man who obliterated Houses Reyne and Tarbeck for laughing at his father's back and refusing to pay their taxes. Even the innocent had suffered in that affair. Her own father was bumbling and blustering and entirely too self-important at times, but he rarely showed his temper. His pride for his children knew no bounds and Margaery was grateful for it more than once. Her grandmother could be snappy, but Margaery had no doubt she loved her children and grandchildren.

In some respects, she could understand how Jaime's sister, Cersei, had bowed under the pressure of being Lord Tywin Lannister's daughter and the very thought of feeling compassion for her made Margaery feel ill. But it seemed there was no room in the House of Lannister for courtesy and charm. There was only duplicity and hate. Even just the few mentions of childhood moments from Tyrion made it clear that even the favored golden heir saw little in the way of affection and love. Did Lord Tywin love his children? She honestly couldn't be sure.

A shiver ran through her, but she quickly got her emotions back under control. She could never appear anything other than thrilled and sweet to anyone who was looking. The Starks' lives depended on it. As much as she enjoyed them, she wasn't yet sure she could trust them with the knowledge of what was about to come.

Margaery had collected the servants of the Reach together and gotten tea invitations for the ladies of the North and the Riverlands who were present. The ladies were then expected to inform their husbands of the dire portents the letters concealed or, in the case of Lady Maege and Lady Dacey, covertly pass on the information to their fellow northern lords.

Since information was so important to control, she and her grandmother had whipped the servants of Highgarden into shape. Any servants that had ever slipped were banished from Highgarden, condemned to a life of poverty and pain. She could trust that her letters would be delivered and the likelihood of them either being intercepted or purchased was small. They used treats and coin as needed, but were not afraid to dismiss any at the slightest whiff of betrayal. It was not one of Margaery's duties that she particularly liked, but it had been of the utmost importance that there should be no doubt. Though she wasn't so foolish to actually tell her servants the contents of the invitations she sent out every day. She had a long-ingrained habit of creating her own tea invitations to give the recipient a sense of personal attention.

When she entered her rooms, Robb was working on the personal correspondence for Winterfell. He smiled at her and said, "I hope you enjoyed your tea with Lady Brienne."

"I did. She is such a sweet woman. You might consider training with her some time."

He happily threw down his quill and sat back in the chair, clearly bored with the task, and turned his attention to her. "That's not a bad idea. I know she's been getting a lot of training from Lord Jaime. Perhaps I could learn some of his tricks through her."

"Too afraid to ask for training by Lord Jaime?" She teased, squeezing his shoulder.

"Of course not! But he hasn't been seen training since Jon and my father left. It seems clear he's not up for training."

"I don't know. Judging by the duel with Ser Lyn, he's eager to knock heads."

"Yes, maybe I don't want my head knocked. I know that's what he'd do."

She laughed and was ready to pick up her embroidery when she heard a knock at the door. Since she was the closest, she opened it and gave Domeric Bolton a puzzled smile. His face was closed but his pale eyes observed her with an unnerving grimness.

"Good day, Domeric! Are you looking for Robb?"

"No. I'm looking for you," he replied in a solemn voice. He held up the folded tea invitation.

Her smile lessened and she arched a questioning eyebrow at him before opening the door wider. "Do please come in."

"Domeric? What are you doing here?" Robb asked. Though his frown was puzzled, he exuded boredom.

Margaery grabbed a chair and placed it in the middle of the room, then she gestured for him to sit. There was a moment of hesitation before he sat.

"Do you have questions?" Margaery asked and gestured Robb over as well. It is time you learned, she thought even as a pit of dread was forming in her stomach.

Domeric fixed them both with an urgent stare. "So you know? You know what Lord Tywin is up to?"

"What do you mean?" Robb asked.

Margaery closed her eyes and prayed to all the Seven for guidance. She grabbed Robb by the elbow and said, "Robb, please be serious for one moment and be silent. Do not say anything. The invitation?" Domeric placed it in her hand and she gave it to Robb.

She watched Robb's confusion morph to shock and then fury. He opened his mouth to shout and she immediately slapped her hand to it. "Robb," she whispered furiously, "you cannot shout! The walls have ears. Stay calm, stay focused. Let's listen to what Domeric has to say."

"Do you know what this means?" Robb whispered with equal fury. "The Lannisters can't be trusted after all! The whole lot of them are snakes."

"Will you just listen?! And you're wrong, but we'll come to that later. Now, be quiet," she snapped. Her attention turned to Domeric and she narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you know?"

"I never wanted to be a part of this. I want to make that very clear. I argued with my father against this, but he wouldn't listen. He said the Long Night would indeed return before a bastard wolf pup could outwit Tywin Lannister and that we were better off standing on the side of the devil than in his path," Domeric whispered with a cold fury.

Margaery felt the blood chill in her veins and her eyes widened. The Boltons had turned. I sent a tea invite with the secret plans for the coup to an enemy! I am such a fool, she berated herself. She thought back to the wedding between Domeric and Lady Alysanne formerly Lefford. Hot fury ran through her veins and she felt her knuckles crack at the cold look Lady Alysanne had given her. With the sudden crack of a lightning bolt, she now understood that Lady Alysanne had been plotting to take the North out from under her this whole time.

"I should've known! You fucking Boltons have never been trustworthy! Would that my ancestors had rooted you—"

"Robb," she snarled once again. "Stop right this instance. He's here to fix this." She turned to Domeric again, leveling a highly critical stare. "Or so you want us to believe. Why should we trust you now when the Boltons have been feuding with the Starks for thousands of years?"

Domeric nodded. "I have proof. My father has taken Winterfell out from under you. It's no longer under your control," he said.

Robb's eyes widened and his mouth actually fell open in flabbergast. Margaery thought her heart might have stuttered to a stop before starting again.

"No, he hasn't! I just received the latest missive from Maester Luwin. Everything is as it should be."

Domeric sighed. "Don't be a fool, Robb. Do you really think my father wouldn't supervise the letters your maester writes? He cannot say anything to give it away. And aren't maesters supposed to serve the lord of Winterfell? My father has all but supplanted your little brother."

"But how did Lord Bolton take Winterfell?" Margaery whispered.

"He made use of guestright. Lord Bran can't deny him entry. Now that Winterfell has been left with a skeleton crew, it would've been child's play."

Even in her shock and dismay, Margaery saw Robb sway on his feet before eventually sitting on their bed, staring numbly at the wall.

She used all of her training to take hold of her emotions and once again focus on Domeric. "So what price bought your lord father? Lady Alysanne was one bit."

He nodded. "Of course. Winterfell and the Warden of the North was next."

"The North would never submit to you," Robb said, shaking his head. "They will not forget this betrayal."

"If all had gone well here in King's Landing, most of the Northern lords would either be dead or imprisoned. There'd be no one to stand for your Starks. Whatever allies left would be held at bay with the help of Lord Tywin and yours and your father's deaths. Bran Stark would serve as a fine hostage."

Margaery saw Robb growl and clench his fist. She stepped between the two to stop him if it was necessary. "Stay calm. We can make it through this."

"My brother is being held captive by Roose Bolton," Robb managed to whisper in a fierce tone.

"Your brother is more valuable to him alive than dead," Margaery replied, but her voice felt hollow. It hadn't been too long ago that Loras had been holed up in the Red Keep with an army bearing down upon him and Renly. Even with the assurances of Lord Jaime that he would be safeguarded, she was certain her brother would throw himself into battle in a bid to find glory. It was to her everlasting surprise that Jaime had completely removed the temptation by sneaking in and grabbing Renly Baratheon. "We have to trust Lord Jaime."

Robb turned furious eyes to her. "You believe that cock and bull that he's actually trustworthy."

"I know he is," Margaery said. "He is true to King Aemon. He can stop his father."

"I don't believe it," Robb hissed.

"Jaime's bastard son is also at Winterfell and he is also at the mercy of Lord Bolton. Do you honestly think Lord Tywin would harbor a bastard born of incest and rape?" She said.

The words seem to finally get through to Robb, but he still stared at her with anger and suspicion. She turned back to Domeric, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "Domeric, you said you were against this from the beginning. Why? You would go against your family?"

He regarded solemnly and nodded. "I have never had a personal encounter with Lord Jaime. He's haughty and petulant. Just like a Lannister, he looks down on us all. But I had never seen anyone so happy as when King Aemon arrived at King's Landing. He has true respect for the king. His success and pride in bringing him allies suggests a loyalty that is as entrenched as a big old oak is to the ground. Lord Tywin won't see it, but I can.

"And lately he has used his position at court to chip away at the army. He didn't even know what was being planned and yet… it seems that he did," Domeric finished.

Margaery released a sigh and felt the tension that had tightened her shoulders let go. "You will fight with the north then?"

"As long as I get the Dreadfort, I will fight with the North," he replied.

"Robb?" Margaery prodded her husband. There was a warning note in her voice as Robb continued to be sullen.

"The Dreadfort will remain yours. This is the last time we'll grant you Boltons any mercy. Do not attempt to betray us again," Robb said through gritted teeth.

Domeric drew his mouth into an irritated line, but he gave a curt nod.

"It's best you leave now. But wait…!" Margaery headed to her trunk and pulled out a dress and gave it to him. In a more normal voice, she said, "It was so kind of you to drop by. Lady Alysanne asked to borrow this some time ago and it is finally clean enough for her. Do give her my best." It was the ugliest dress that Margaery had, made cheaply with less fine cloth and beaded with impure topaz. She used the dress to visit Flea Bottom and the orphanages. It would give her infinite pleasure to see Lady Alysanne wear it out of a sense of propriety to not insult.

As small as her opinion was of the Boltons now, Domeric gave her a meaningful look and said, "Thank you, my lady. I am sure she will be overjoyed."

At least someone in the North understands subtlety, she thought. With a great sigh she turned back to Robb who was still sitting on the edge of the bed fuming. "Robb, my sweet—"

"You knew? You knew there was a coup forming against my cousin and you didn't tell me?" The look of betrayal cut through her and she felt her mask slip ever so slightly with the wound.

But then she pulled it back up. Her face, usually so soft and warm with care, was now stony and unforgiving. "Yes, I knew. I've been laying the groundwork for retaliation to protect King Aemon's throne," she whispered. "I did it for you and him. Because I love you."

"But not enough to tell me," he muttered bitterly.

"Because you don't play the game. I know you Northerners think we're just a nest of vipers down here and you'll sooner stay out of it, but if you don't become one, you'll get bitten. Refusing to play the game doesn't mean you aren't still a part of it. But none of you know how to play. Only your cousin, King Aemon, has shown a deft hand among you northerners. I don't know how or why he understands, but he does. Now, you need to understand too. You have to hide your pain and your anger or you will doom us all."

Robb stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. She supposed to some small extent, he was. He vaguely shook his head.

"There are spies everywhere, Robb. If you go stomping out there into the training yard after Domeric Bolton has just seen us, which conclusions do you think the enemy will draw?"

"If Lord Jaime knows—" Robb began to shout before Margaery clapped his hand over his mouth and gave him a furious look. He glared at her but continued in a more measured voice, "If Jaime knows what his father is doing, why hasn't he arrested him for treason?"

"Words are wind. What proof do you think Lord Jaime has? He wouldn't be able to hold him on his personal testimony alone and then his father would slip through his fingers and continue to be a threat in the background. He has to be caught in the act."

Robb was quiet as he stewed. His brow was furrowed and his face was a thunderstorm as she watched him think through what she said. Already, she could see the anger lessen. He stared up at her with a marked glare. "Did you really mean it, when you said you loved me?"

Margaery felt herself breathe a little easier and she gave him a small smile. "Yes, I do. I could not have asked for a more charming, caring man to be my lord husband. And it is because I love you that I will not allow you to walk out that door until I am certain you won't give the game away."

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Tywin IV

Although his footsteps were measured, a muscle was working in his face as he marched his way up the Tower of the Hand. His fists clenched and his rage boiled beneath the surface. He hadn't felt this sort of anger since the Mad King Aerys rejected Cersei for the match to Prince Rhaegar and snatched Jaime for his Kingsguard.

If the idea weren't foolish, he would start to wonder if the Mad King had somehow infected Jaime's mind and poisoned it during his tenure in the Kingsguard and it was only now rearing its ugly head. He never imagined his son would have the gall to get in the way of his orders. He had used soldiers of Ser Addam Marbrand to guard the city gates. Despite the messenger being on Lannister orders, they had seized him and the letter he carried.

This was a boldness that mirrored the time Jaime stormed into Casterly Rock and demanded a private meeting to chastise him for not following Jaime's orders to march to King's Landing. Normally, Tywin would think that the role of Hand was going to Jaime's head—and perhaps it was—but that was a boldness that Tywin had worked to ingrain into him for years. He just hadn't expected it to be turned towards him.

Tywin had always been certain with the path he had chosen and the decisions he had made. There was no room for regret for the Lord of Casterly Rock. He would do what he needed to position his family favorably in the game of thrones. But just as he was about to take that first action to secure the throne, the ground began to turn to quicksand beneath his feet. Just as suddenly as the rumors of the murders brought about by King Aemon had surfaced, so had rumors of a coup.

He made it a point to not make himself available to just any lord in King's Landing, but Baelish had sent him terse letters about leaks within the Red Keep that spoke of a coming coup directed by the Lannisters. Tywin had initially paid them little mind; no one trusted the Lannisters. He could at least credit their enemies for not being complete fools.

It is past time this record was set straight, Tywin thought. Podrick Payne shrunk away as he pounded on the door. "Jaime, open this door!"

"What is it now, Father?" When Jaime opened the door, he was surprised to find him still in court dress. Night had already fallen and he had expected his son to be readying for bed. He was glaring, but there were clear lines of exhaustion on his face.

"Inside," Tywin replied through gritted teeth.

Jaime stepped back, leaving the door open and fell into his chair. Tywin hastily closed the door and crossed the distance to his desk and met his glare. He expected Jaime to speak, but as the silence dragged on, he finally said, "You stopped my messenger."

"Yes, I did. Good thing as well. Daring to counter my orders yet again? I told you that Uncle Kevan was not to be recalled! Undermining my authority makes me look weak, as you know full well," Jaime replied.

"Your uncle is required here! The Ironborn are not a threat to our lands. Leave them to pillage the Riverlands."

"We will need the food on those lands for the coming winter, Father. As you should recall, a long winter stands to follow a long summer. We have to save every last bit of food. We cannot afford to have it plundered or the lands salted and burned," Jaime shouted.

"Land can be reworked, but we have this one chance for the throne. I will not squander it," Tywin announced.

He was surprised when his declaration was met with silence. As they stared eye-to-eye, Tywin felt there was something peculiar about his son's gaze and he furrowed his brow. He could not grasp what was different about this expression and instead said, "I see you've used Ser Addam Marbrand and co-opted his soldiers for your use."

Jaime quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you disagree with that? I am a former Kingsguard and Hand to the King. I have gone without a named contingent of the Lannister army long enough. I need my own protection."

"Good," Tywin said. "You may be the best swordsman in Westeros, but even you cannot face an army alone." He drew in closer so that Jaime had to pull slightly away. "But if you meddle in my affairs again, boy, I'll whip you bloody."

Jaime actually dared to smirk at him. "If you try to whip me, Father, I'll beat you until your teeth fall out. I am no longer a child you can punish."

"Then act like it," Tywin snarled. "You are not Lord of Casterly Rock yet. I still have much to teach you. For the time being, you will stay here."

It was only when Jaime's face twisted in confusion that Tywin realized the peculiar quality in Jaime's original glare. There had been no heat in it. A deadness had been on Jaime's face that chilled Tywin. He appeared… resigned. If that meant Jaime was done fighting him on this matter, then so be it.

"You wish for me to stay here while you ransack the city?"

"There will be no ransacking," Tywin shot back. "No need to destroy a city that will be ours for the reaping. I need to know that you will be safe." And out of my way, he thought. In Jaime's bid to be a good ruler, he had undone much of the Lannister army. But while it was at half-strength, once it was joined with the might of the Tyrells, it would be more than enough to march over the other remaining armies. He just needed one night to kill the Stark heir and then his path to victory was clear.

"You need to know that I will be safe? Am I not the greatest sword in Westeros?"

"Have it your way. You are hereby under house arrest. I will not have you continue to interfere with my plans," Tywin snapped.

"Arresting the Hand of the King, your own son, and for what?" Jaime replied.

"This will happen, with or without you. I will have a host guarding your door if need be. As we've established, not even you can defeat an army."