#rcsethcrn

Renly had fallen - to who, the world was not entirely sure as of yet, but his mother insisted it was at the hand of his own brother. As they returned to the Reach, Robb took the opportunity to send a rider their way and offer the option of another ally should they be in search of one. It was a long ride for his man, but after weeks of waiting, it seemed to have been a fruitful decision. The Tyrell host had set up camp in the south, and sent a small contingent north to discuss the finer details of any possible association between the two houses. After days of talking and diplomacy, Robb felt longed for solitude. He took a horse and Grey Wind, went to the edge of the camp and went for a ride with his companion. He didn’t spend an hour, but it was enough to give him some peace of mind. It was on his journey back that he saw Lord Mace’s daughter, Renly’s queen, walking through the camp, some Tyrell guards accompanying her. Before he could think of anything more, Grey Wind bounded towards the strangers in curiosity. Robb frowned, knowing not everyone was overly pleased at having a wolf the size of a horse running towards them, though he suspected his faithful friend meant no harm. “Grey Wind!” he called, riding after him.

Robb had never carried any ill will toward the Tyrells, and yet here they stood as enemies; he had taken King’s Landing--by all means, he’d won the war--but this was not how or who he’d expected to conquer. Joffrey had been killed before he’d arrived, Sansa had fled, and by the time Robb’s armies took the castle, it was a boy king and his rose-wife they were unseating, not Jeffrey.

He didn’t need his mother’s whispers that the Tyrells were an unloyal bunch--they had switched sides so quickly after Renly’s death; but they were also a powerful house, a smart ally. And yet it was the boy king who worried him the most. Joffrey, at least, had been Robb’s own age, and though neither of them should have been crowned king so young, Tommen was a true child. Innocent. Kind. Scared. He reminded Robb of Bran, and seeing him on his throne, a kitten in his lap, had done very little to make him feel better about any of this.

And so he met with the queen. He had imprisoned Cersei and Tywin in the cells beneath the castle, but Tommen he had locked in his bedroom with a guard outside the door, the same to the queen and her family--at least until she was escorted back into the throne room.

It seemed they had both had the same idea. Tucked away in this closet, hiding from the paparazzi on the other side, Robb and Margaery barely dared to breathe, pressed chest to chest alongside a handful of mops and broomsticks that shoved their way into the small of Robb’s back. She was very beautiful up close--even more so than her pictures in the paper had suggested--and with her this near, he was starting to find the whole situation far more amusing than annoying.

She had not had a much better week than he had, he knew that much. When her boyfriend’s affair with her own brother had come to light, the press had hounded her at every stop. At the same time, Robb had found one of his campaign advisers laundering money and bribing city officials and had publicly dismissed him, casting doubt and shadow upon his entire campaign. A campaign to sit in the same seat of government as her boyfriend had been pursuing, the seat Robb’s own father had advised years before his  (and the then prime minister, Robbert’s, untimely demise).

“I’m not- not going home. Fuck that, no. You can... yu can leave cause I’m not finished and... I don’t know who called you but... no. I’m... exactly. You can leave now, good bye. Bye!” 

               They’d called her to the gates, saying that there was a woman asking for her. Lots of her people called her ‘Lady Sansa’ rather than ‘Lady Stark’, but the girl claimed to Margaery Tyrell. No one had claimed that name since she supposedly died in the explosion of the Sept of Baelor. Sansa turned the corner and saw the girl. Long brown hair and and a regal stance.