When Margaery weds Robb Stark, King in the North, King of the Trident, and Lord of Winterfell, she does so in the Godswood. Her family may grumble about heathen gods but Margaery understands more than most what it will take for Robb's bannerman to respect and trust her. Still, she cannot help but feel a sense of loss when Robb removes the velvet green cloak from her shoulders and replaces it with the white wool of House Stark.

Then again it helps stave off the cold.

Margaery wakes the next morning, sore, with her back to Robb.

She carefully turns to face him and sees that he's asleep, and for once he looks as if he is at peace. She touches a pink scar on his chest, but hastily removes it when his brow starts furrow.

She wishes she could wake him and do again what they did last night, because if she is to say anything about Robb stark it is that he is a generous lover, but she realizes that there are more pressing duties at hand.

So instead she quietly gets up from her bed and dresses, throwing furs around herself to keep off the chill.

Outside it snows and she is careful as she treads towards Maester Willem who sits with Sansa and Lyra.

'' Your Grace.'' They crow when they see her. She acknowledges them with a smile before turning her attention to the maester.

'' Maester how are our stores.'' Of all the questions that she would ask, she thinks this is the last one the Maester expects her to ask.

'' They are well stocked.''

'' Are they full?''

'' No, but the stores in Winterfell are too big-'' Margaery holds up her hand to stop him.

'' Thank you that's all I needed to know.'' She shall write Willas for more Provisions. She knows full well that the Reach can provide for the whole of Westeros and still have some left over.

She is penning her letter when Robb enters her solar.

She stands, '' Your Grace.''

He waves her off, '' we are married now, you may call me Robb.''

'' Robb.'' The word foreign and new on her tongue, but she feels giddy. She invites him to sit down and in her haste knocks her bottle of ink on her letter.

She curses. Now she will have to start all over again. Margaery wipes her inky fingers on handkerchief.

She flushes as she realizes that Robb has watched her this whole time.

'' A letter to your family.'' He asks. Her family had only stayed long enough for the wedding ceremony and then promptly left, wanting to beat the snowstorm that was on the horizon

'' Yes I'm asking my brother for more supplies-''

'' Your brother? Why not your father?'' He watches her curiously.

'' My brother is more agreeable than my father.'' Truthfully, her father was pliable to her grandmother and Willas, and Willas wasn't scared of grandmother.

'' I see.'' He mutters and she grins.

'' I also think we need more glass gardens, more wood needs to be chopped for the fires-'' She stops herself and flushes her throat. '' I'm sorry.''

Robb clears his throat, '' No please continue,'' When she hesitates he continues, '' I am as new at this as you. I need help, and I need people I can trust at my side.''

Margaery oversees the stores being filled with provisions.

Watches as three more glass gardens are built.

Meets with the lords and ladies, who wish to pay homage to their new queen, and sits with Robb as he hear grievances.

All that Margaery can do in the evenings is collapse onto her bed and fall asleep, crown and all.

'' You don't have to exert yourself so. Surely I can see oversee-''

'' Well as your family is so fond of saying; winter is coming.'' That is the end of that.

Six moons have passed since she has become Queen in the North when she first receives a letter from her Grandmother.

It inquires on her health.

Specifically her moon blood.

They come every month and soon Margaery doesn't even open them, just throws them into the fire.

Robb doesn't question it until five moons later.

Margaery is about to throw the latest letter into the fire when Robb tugs it gently from her hand. She cannot bear to watch as he opens it and instead hurries out of the room. It is cowardly but she cannot face the idea that her husband, who has come to trust her, who she has come to desire so much that sometimes her body aches with it, cannot bear to touch her.

Later that night he comes to her, she pretends to sleep keeping her sleeping furs close to her and squeezing her eyes shut.

Still, she feels the whisper soft touch of his hand against her bare arm and she nearly whimpers from need.

Gods be good when did she become so feeble?

Margaery writes a scathing letter to Willas, who is visiting Oldtown to help the old man rebuild, that if anyone writes one more letter concerning her lack of conception she will personally drag them to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

She continues to write letters to Willas.

The letters from Highgarden stop.

'' Margaery are you alright'' Sansa's tone is cautious but there an undertone of worry. It has been weeks since Margaery's last letter from Highgarden and she and Robb had come to meet on neutral ground.

They speak polite courtesies to each other, rule Winterfell together, but they never broach the subject of an heir and they keep separate chambers.

'' I'm perfectly fine Sansa.'' It's an easy lie to tell.

'' My lady.'' A knock wakes her from her slumber and she stumbles to the door, clumsily putting on a robe, and wrenching the door open.

'' Maester Willem it is the hour of the wolf-'' He hands her a letter stamped with the seal of house Hightower.

'' I'm sorry but this just arrived.'' Margaery rubs the sleep from her eyes and breaks the wax seal.

Oh gods please please no no, no, no….

She collapses on to her knees not even reading the rest of the letter. She barley hears Maester Willem's pleas.

Let this be a dream...a nightmare….just please not this...not this…

Her breathe escapes her and she gasps to try to fill her lungs.

I can't breathe….

Warm hands grasp her face and Tully eyes meet her own, '' Margaery what has happened.'' She hears Robb's voice as if she is submerged in water and so she mutely hands him the letter.

He reads it carefully a particular melancholy coming over his face, '' Maester send a raven to Stannis that Highgarden has fallen. Aegon Targaeryn and the Golden Company now roam the reach.'' Maester Willem pauses for a moment looking at Margaery, '' you may leave us, and make sure no one disturbs us.'' Robb says sternly.

The Maester bow, '' your grace.''

Once the door is shut Robb cradles her in his arms and carries her to bed. He tucks her into him until not a single inch of space is left in between.

'' They burned it Robb…they burned it...burned all of it…all of them.''

'' I know.'' He says into her hair and he lets her cry until she has no more tears.

It's curious; she thinks that such sadness, such agony, can turn into anger so fierce that even dragons would be cowed by it.

Margaery wakes in Robb's arms to find that another day has passed and it is night again. She wriggles out of his arms.

She feels empty.

Hollow.

Then ever so slowly she feels the anger start to build within her. She clenches her hands, her nails biting imprints into her palms. She scrambled off the bed and made her way to the door, clutching the handle, about to wrench the door open when a hand covers her own.

She whips around to find Robb staring pityingly at her.

I don't need his pity. I'll kill this young dragon just watch me...I'll kill them all...

Margaery grabs his tunic and pulls her to him, she doesn't mean to, but she just needs something, and if he doesn't give her this then she shall surely go mad.

'' Robb...Please.'' He regards her for a moment cupping her cheek and brushing her lips with his; touches her as if she is made of glass, but she doesn't want soft, or gentle, or loving. She needs harsh and desperate; something tangible to keep her anchored to this world. So she bites his lips, draws lines down his back, grips his hair, and pushes him onto her bed.

And he lets her do all these things without a single protest because he knows.

He knows.

When she wakes the next morning she feels a little less like she'll shatter if she's touched.

Robb shares her bed now and she doesn't question it.

'' You're not going to war.'' She tells him one night when her head is pillowed on his chest. She does not say it as an accusation or a question, but as a command. She has lost too much already and she doesn't think she could stand it he left her all alone in this icy land.

The next moons turn they receive a letter that pronounces that Aegon Targaeryn the sixth of his name is now King of Westeros and that the North is his by right, and if they would not bend the knee then he would march north to take it from them.

Robb throws the letter in the fire before climbing into bed with her. '' Let him come,'' Robb whispers his nose brushing hers, '' let him see what winter really is.''

Let his corpse be buried beneath the snows. She prays.

When two moons pass and Margaery misses her moon blood she knows she is with child.

She does not tell Robb exactly, but places his hands on her stomach and smiles as it dawns on him.

Sansa for her part could not be more excited and sets about embroidering blankets and clothes with grey direwolves, (and one very special blanket embroidered with gold roses).

Lyra winks and tells her it's about time.

Robb takes to whispering against her stomach as they lay together in bed at night. He tells stories of his childhood, of his brothers and sisters, and of his father and mother.

It's in these stories that Margaery comes to learn about him, and she takes to telling stories of her own. She does this not only for the babe that grows inside her or Robb, she does this to remember.

Margaery is seven months along when Shireen Baratheon and Davos Seaworth come to Winterfell on the tail end of a storm.

Their fingers are half frost bitten and their cheeks are hollow, but they will live, according to maester Willem.

Margaery thinks that the gods must have been with them, to survive such a journey.

It is Davos that tells them how Aegon had 'conquered' Kingslanding. '' He came in the night, he and the Golden Company; came through some of the hidden tunnels in the castle and slaughtered everyone in sight.'' He looks over at Shireen who lies with her head on Sansa's lap, '' it is only by lucky chance that my son Devan found Shireen and brought her to me.''

Margaery later finds out that Devan had died on the journey.

More and more Robb goes out to the Godswood to pray. She usually leaves him in peace, but she ventures their one morning when the sun is just rising.

She quietly sits next to him and lets the peaceful silence sink into her. It calms her, this place, far more than a sept ever has. It had made her mother shudder, she remembers, when she had looked upon the heart tree. Evil looking, her mother had called it. Margaery always found it more sorrowful, as if it wept for Winterfell and the North.

She is taken out of her thoughts as a hand brushes her own, she looks to see the somber expression on his face. Margaery reaches to touch the scar on his neck. She has never dared ask about what happened at his Frey wedding but perhaps it is time.

'' How did you survive?'' She murmurs.

Robb closes his eyes recalling the terrible memory. '' Dacey Mormont and the Great Jon dragged me from the hall, he had to carry me on his back, while Dacey cut through the Frey host,'' Margaery squeezes his hand on comfort, '' they brought me to Greywater Watch and the Crannogmen, who healed most of my wounds.'' He does not look at her but instead at the Heart tree.

It weeps for us all she thinks.

'' I thinks it's time to be getting back inside. I do not want you to catch a chill.'' Margaery brushes a kiss across his cheek. He will tell her more when he is ready, she knows, so for now she grants him peace in his solitude.

Margaery is nine moons along when Robb leaves for Hornwood. He is reluctant, but she assures him the maester predicts that the babe will not come for another three weeks, giving him enough time to get back for the birth.

He leaves the next morning

A week later Margaery sits with Sansa, Lyra, singing songs to the Lady Shireen, when she feels wetness between her legs.

As she labors she wonders if grandmother or mother had hard enough time with it, and if they did why would they chooses to do it several times over?

Margaery has her answer when she holds her baby boy in her arms.

Two days later dragons are spotted to the north.

Daenerys Stormborn lands with her dragons outside the gates of Winterfell three days later.

Everyone tells her to take her son and run, but Margaery is Queen in North and she will not abandon her people so easily. Instead, she stands on shaky knees and dons a dress of white and places her iron crown upon her brow.

She turns to Sansa who holds Margaery's child in her arms. '' If I do not return...'' Sansa nods and the rest goes unspoken.

Margaery goes down to the courtyard, where people gather; some bow, some cry, but most just stare as she orders the gates to be opened and walks out to meet the Mother of Dragon's.

She is not what Margaery expects. In her imagination she had pictured a woman of stature with weapons and men to the back of her.

Rather, what meets her outside the gate is a small woman, a beautiful woman, trying not to shiver from cold, with three dragons at the back of her.

Margaery tries to not to show her fear as smoke curls around her when the dragons breathe. '' Well met Daenerys Targaeryn.'' The woman frowns at her.

'' I have come to claim the North; it is mine by right-''

'' No the north is an independent Kingdom, ruled by the King in the North.'' Daenerys frowns deepen before a smirk covers her face.

'' And yet I am met by a Queen.'' She is both grateful and not, that Robb is here. She feels that she would feel more comfortable in her position right now if he were, but if something were to go wrong…she is thankful he is spared.

'' My husband has gone to handle a dispute with a house. Doubtless, he would agree with me in that the North is now and always a free and independent kingdom.'' She can tell that the violet eyed woman is becoming agitated.

'' So you dare to try match the power of Dragon fire?''

'' What Dragon fire? We are far too north for your dragons to produce a spark, much less a flame.'' Three yellow eyes meet hers and she suppresses a shudder.

Daenerys regards her for a moment before smiling wickedly, '' Well met.''

Margaery nods, '' although I'm sure they will serve you well in the south.''

Daenery's lets out a bitter laugh, '' you would have me as queen and not the mummers dragon.''

'' I do not take well to those who burn my home.'' The Mother of Dragons meets her eyes and for one moment they are on even ground.

Danearys leaves Winterfell the same way she came, but this time she heads south with Margaery's blessing.

When she walks back into the gates Lyra is there to meet her, concern radiating off her.

Margaery hears the gates close before collapsing onto the snowy ground of the courtyard, exhaustion overwhelming her. Lyra lifts her and they walk together, Margaery leaning against Lyra, as the younger girl leads her to her chambers.

'' Seven hells Margaery that is the stupidest and bravest thing I have ever seen. Don't ever do it again''

The door to her chambers is thrown open and Robb comes in, hairs matted with sweat and out of breathe. When he sees her something like relief flashes in his eyes.

Margaery holds the suckling babe tighter to her chest and beckons Robb over with a smile. ''Welcome home your Grace,''

He rushes to her and presses his lips to hers in a way he never has; bruising and frantic until Margaery is out of breathe. When they break apart he rests his forehead against hers.

'' I'm not even gone a fortnight-'' Margaery laughs breathlessly.

'' Indeed much has happened.'' Robb looks down at her breast where their child is suckling and lays his hand on the brown tuff of hair that lays atop their sons head.

'' What is his name?'' Margaery bites her lip. In all the chaos she had never given their first born a name.

'' Torrhen.'' There are tears in Robb's eyes as he gazes at their son, and if a few escape down his cheeks she will not fault him for it.

Margaery is relieved when two moons go by and news reaches them of Danearys Targaeryn.

Robb rocks Torrhen in his arms as Margaery reads the letter out loud to him, '' ….and it is my sincerest wish that we may maintain peace between our two kingdoms and it is noted that any second son that is born to King in the North, shall by right inherit Highgarden when he comes of age…'' Margaery lets out a peal of laughter and Robb looks up amused.

'' There you have it my love we must start on making a second son immediately.'' A flush creeps up his cheeks, even after all this time.

'' I am surprised she is letting you have Highgarden.'' She shrugs.

'' The houses in Highgarden would never move to take the seat in the South as long as a Tyrell is still alive. We are a prickly people when angered you know.''

'' I do.'' She raises her eyebrow at that, but Robb just grins.

Spring comes two years later, and with it Margaery's second child, a girl who she names Elinor.

Shireen Baratheon leaves Winterfell on her own to reclaim the Stormlands, Davos Seaworth having died from sickness.

Margaery is sad to see her go.

Robb stark never outright tells her that he loves her. It saddens her at first, but she has come to understand that he is a man of action, and in his actions she see's all she needs to.

Like when they both lay in bed sated and he peppers kisses on the freckles that are scattered across her shoulders.

To how he builds snow castles with their children, (Torrhen, Elinor, Jon, and William), or how he held her as screamed when their fifth child, Rosalyn, dies within a week of her birth.

Small touches and the gentlest of kisses tell Margaery all she needs to know, because words may be wind, but deeds are life.