bakerstreet | otherwordly.

[ Robb has an army of Northerners that are going to want to go home soon, the Riverlords, who will want to also go home at some point, and (in theory), the Eyrie. If they ever responded and if Littlefinger could actually be trusted. Something that Robb very much doubted. Trusting Littlefinger was what had landed his father in deep, deep trouble. What he doesn't have is any sort of support base in King's Landing or the lands surrounding it.

And that makes life difficult, if he intends to stay here for any length of time. So striking back with a few harsh words seems to be the extent of what he can do, especially when she's seemingly put him in a very precarious position. ]

As I was very recently reminded, I do have duty beyond what I would like. I'm going to make sure that this city is safe enough for the people who live here. I am going to try and put an end to the banditry. And I will try to ensure that this city does fall apart. But I also would like to go home.

[ He grits his teeth. This conversation has become deeply uncomfortable. ]
But apparently, I need to make sure the southern lords don't fall apart or that more blood is spilled. So it seems I will have to stay here for a while yet and figure out how to make them respect me. Or at least not want to murder me in my bed.

[ He feels... lost. He does not want to be king. He does not want to rule the Seven Kingdoms. He has Winterfell in the north. But he also cannot find it in himself to turn away from all of this, not when it might mean that he would simply be dragged down here again in a few years time - or worse, forced to fend off an invasion. ]

[She's grateful that he listened to her, enough that he has changed his current plans to overseeing the stability of the city, as well as considering a basis of safety for himself. This wasn't something he could walk away from and he seemed to understand that now, even if it cost her his good will.

It didn't change, however, that he needed someone at his side who could help him. She had managed to sway his mind from disaster, but who would manage the next time and the time after that?

His mother and sister could only do so much and eventually, he would need to consider other means of alliances.]

You need to join with a southern house. If their interests become your own, then you have someone to help shield you from possible invasions or further discords. They could act as your wardens to the south.

[She's not certain how welcome her advice is at this point, but she'll give it anyway.]

You should consider marrying a member of your house to someone in the south.

My sister... is unlikely to want to marry anyone. My brother Bran-

[ Well. No one is going to want to marry their daughter to him. No one important, anyway. Even if he is the brother of a king. That leaves Rickon, although he's certain he'll want nothing to do with it. Can he really force him into this? For the sake of stability? His jaw works again and he's back to pacing, thinking, fingers drumming against the side of his leg as he considers his options.

Robb is also acutely aware that Margaery is still there, still watching, and will likely report all of this back to her family. Fine. Let them know about him and his indecision. It can't hurt him any worse. He pauses as a thought strikes him.

He is technically promised to a Frey. But even Walder Frey won't cross the Starks and the Tullys, not without someone to back him. He pauses and looks at Margaery and there is something very knowing in his gaze. His voice is a touch cool, as if he's probing her, trying to feel out a reaction. ]

Since you've already suggest so much, I don't suppose you have another suggestion on who might be willing to marry into my family?

Someday she will.

[No matter her trauma or fear, Sansa would come to want love. Her interactions with the young girl gave her evidence enough of that. Were Loras not a member of the King's guard (even without a current King), she would offer him as a possible candidate. There was Willas, but it was the same sort of life that Bran might offer a woman.

There was another option, but she was loathe to be the one to suggest it. She had pressed her luck too much already. She'd shown herself to be capable of more than passive innocence. She was capable of playing the game and she doubted he would ever fully trust her. Suggesting this particular candidate would show her completely to be a schemer and it seemed that Northern sensibilities were offended by such things, no matter how helpful it could be.

He was indecisive, that was clear, but she knew he wasn't stupid. His mind was working towards the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. He either wanted her to be the one that pushed the probable match or he wanted to catch her in her scheming. She wasn't about to fall into a trap.]

I cannot speak on behalf of anyone but myself.

[ Of course. Robb makes a noise that's somewhere between an amused snort and a sigh. He's not sure which he should be: angry, despondent, or just amused. Maybe he should laugh at the strange tale his life has turned into. It would probably help about as much as anything else. He settles himself, finally stopping his pacing (although he's still not sure what he ought to do with his hands; that's always been a problem). ]

Of course you can't.

[ She plays the game far too well. he's not sure who else there is. Baratheon doesn't really have anyone available. He's already allied (technically) to House Arryn. He knows nothing of the Martell's, aside from what his education has told him (which is relatively little). He runs through the options one by one. If this the conclusion she wants him to draw, he's getting there on his own. ]

You would be willing to take a third husband?

[ He sounds sardonic. Perhaps a touch bitter. He despises this game, after all. ]

[It wasn't exactly what she imagined or aimed for when she accepted his summons. Her main concern had been the safety of the people and the survival of her house. She had accomplished that, but knew there was only one way to seal such promises.

The same way all promises were sealed in Westeros.

He isn't entirely enthused, nor is she, if she must be honest. She's suffered through one marriage with nothing but mistrust as an inevitable bedfellow. She had been forced to navigate through Cersei's hostility and Joffery's brutality. While Robb Stark wasn't that man, it didn't mean that he would be any more affectionate.

She told Sansa once that she could put up with a great deal, so long as she had a son and knew he would rule after. It was just as true now as it was then. Whatever Robb might think or feel, so long as she had a son, she could weather through all of it.]

If the gods will it to be so, I would.

[She didn't expect or intentionally seek this out, but it wasn't the will of the gods that delivered this opportunity. It was necessity.]

If it means the safety of my family and the city, I would wed again.

[ How does this happen? How does he come to a meeting intent on simply thanking a woman for the kindness shown his family and end up seriously considering a marriage? Is this how politics always works? Getting things done behind the mask of polite pleasantries? He scrubs at his face, scratching at his beard as he scowls. He's too easy to read sometimes and he knows it, even if there isn't much he can do to change that just yet. He takes a slow breath, mulling over the options in his head. His mother won't like it and neither will some of his bannerman, but he can count on more than enough of them remaining loyal.

Walder Frey won't be happy either, but he won't want to cross the Tyrells, the Tullys, the Starks, and all of their bannermen. He'll swallow his bitterness. Or Robb will make him. He works his jaw again. He can't really do this, can he? His gaze lifts and he takes her in, trying to find a way through this confusing maze of half-truths and politeness and needs and duty. What does he do? How does he find a way out of this? Another breath, deep and slow almost a sigh. ]

To yet another king?

[ Sardonic again, more amused. Almost as if he's mocking himself. ]

I can't believe I'm considering this.

[It's far from flattering, but she says nothing to that extent. He was going to fight against the idea, even to the point of insult. It wouldn't be as great an insult as the one paid to Walder Frey, (she was more than aware that there was an existing alliance.) She knew the way to appease a man like Walder Frey and would find the means, if only for stability in the River Lands. The man was old and would die soon enough. If she found a place for his daughters and granddaughters, as well as affluent marriages, his complaints would become nothing but mutters.

It wasn't Walder Frey she was worried about, it was how the North and Robb would respond to this arrangement. Once again, she would have to approach every day with trepidation and concern. It was yet another storm addled sea to cross, and while the crown was always in her mind, it could become exhausting.

His reluctance and clear disapproval would be exhausting...at least until she had a son.]

To another King, even if that King has made his distaste clear.

[ Ouch. That rocks him back on his heels and he almost (but not quite) visibly winces. He has made his distaste quite clear. It's not really that polite of him, although he has long ago given up on politeness for politeness' sake. it's also brutally unfair to her, in a way. He has always told himself that he would be a good husband and a good father, no matter what happened or whoever he married. That he would be like his father and that he would find happiness in his marriage and find a place for his wife in his heart and in his home.

But that had always seemed easy. Especially when his prospects were the daughters of northern lords. Now, after a war, after losing and regaining much, he finds himself facing a very different prospect. One that will earn him as many enemies as allies and to start with, he seems to be making one of the woman he may end up being wed to. Another breath. ]

I... apologize. That was discourteous of me. I am simply... overwhelmed.

[ His voice drops to something quieter, more considerate. ]

Do you really think this is the best idea? I know that there will be voices for and against when I bring it up to my council.

[ Do you really think I can rule this fractured kingdom? That's what he'd like to ask, but that would betray far too much to a woman he barely knows. ]

[She forgives him the moment that she sees him visibly react. He hadn't meant to be unkind, she understood that, but he had managed to hurt her pride. Though perhaps it was only fair. She had hurt his as well when she lectured him and pushed him to take the iron throne.

Thus far, they had done nothing but clash and butt heads. It didn't bode well for the sort of life they might have together.]

I know. Unfortunately, it's something that should be considered.

[It wasn't comforting, especially to someone who seemed to think more with his heart and honor than he did with realism.]

If your council has your best interest in mind, they'd understand that you've entered into a precarious situation. My family may be a great many things in their eyes, but we are still prosperous and hold the Reach. Without us, most of Westeros would not be fed. They wouldn't advise against such a marriage.

It is me that they might object to. It wouldn't surprise me if they pressed Willas and Sansa instead.

[He could rule it all. She wanted to see it, to witness the beginning of his reign and to see him heal the kingdom, but kept silent in that regard. There were some things she wasn't comfortable revealing just yet.]

[ Another soft sigh from him as he tries to think of how this is going to play out in his council chambers. The very thought is already starting to give him a headache, so he sets it aside. Focus on the here and now and try to swallow wounded pride. He straightens and takes a few more steps. There's a stone bench here and he gestures as he settles onto it (it still feels far too warm here, in the dappled sunlight), inviting her to join him so they don't have to keep pacing back and forth. ]

I'm not willing to make my sister up and leave her home again after all she's been through. Marriage can come for her later, once she's recovered. I imagine that the solution we need is... more immediate.

[ He frowns, brow creasing. He hates thinking like this, but unless he solidifies his grip - well. Things won't go well. Especially once he make it clear he plans on staying (or at least claiming the right to rule). The Baratheons did it. Why can't he? He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks up at her. From what Sansa has told him and what he's heard, she's intelligent and she's proven that. He just wishes that he could enter into this with any sort of trust. ]

I - [ Don't falter now, Robb. He clears his throat and tries to banish indecision. ]

I'm... willing. For the sake of peace and for making sure this ends. I don't want to fight another war in two or three or four years. [ He actually laughs after a moment, rubbing at his face. It's a very rare moment of levity. A crack in his dour exterior. ]

Never thought I'd be negotiating my own marriage.

[He is trying and she sees that. There is almost a boyish quality in him, as though he were still in the process of learning how to be a man. Now coupled with being a King, it was an overwhelming situation. Adding the role of husband as well might be too much for his already weary shoulders.

She accepts the seat beside him, and after a moment of hesitation, places her hand on his arm. It was an act of comfort and understanding. He was as lost as Sansa had been when Margaery first arrived in the capital. While he may hide it well, he needed a kind friend as much as his sister. She would offer that to him, if he were willing.]

It isn't something you will have to arrange on your own, your grace. Not all of these burdens are yours alone. This alliance would be to help you, which is what I want.

[He didn't have to believe her. She meant it all the same.]

You will need to speak to my father and grandmother, but I will raise no objection. [She smiled at him gently.] This is a unique situation. I only hope it is not an unpleasant one.

[ There's that kindness and companionship his sister spoke of and it's a bit relieving for him to see it. He settles into his seat, aware of the soft touch on his arm. He's not sure whether pulling away would be appropriate or seen as rude. He opts to sit, settling himself, hands clasped as he leans forward, resting his fore arms on his knees. It helps him think. ]

I can't imagine they'll object either.

[ There's that wry humor again. A touch sardonic. ]

I get to make the choice for myself, now that I'm king.

[ He glances at her, trying to appraise her again. Why does he feel as if he's putting his head into the jaws of some great beast? Then again, he's been in over his head since this all started. What's a little more? ]

Now I can see why my sister liked you.

No. [A touch of honesty is what he is owed, as he intends to unify the Starks and Tyrells. He would see for himself who they were truly.] My family is practical. We bent the knee to Aegon when King Mern did not, just as your family did. They will understand the benefits of this alliance.

[He might not trust them and likely never would, but he could at least see the wisdom in this decision in time.]

You haven't been king for very long? Does it still seem strange to you?

[She can feel him appraising her, trying to root her out. She shields herself, as always, carefully obscuring her thoughts and feelings. Perhaps on their wedding night she'll let her guard down, but nothing is certain just yet.]

Is that your way of saying that I am not so terrible after all?

[ The conversation has turned personal and he wonders if that is a bad thing. His father died for getting too close to the people who inhabit this court, but he feels... oddly safe. If this was all some long plan to get into his good graces, then he'll deal with it. He doubts that, though. He feels tired, very tired, and a part of him wants to unburden himself to her in that moment. It would be easy to trust and to pour out his frustrations and sorrows and confusion, but he can't do that. Not now. ]

I am sure all kings feel strange when they first put on the crown. I think it gets better.

[ It's a careful answer and one he wishes he could change. There's a flicker of a smile as she continues, some humor shining through that stereotypical northern dourness. ]

That's my way of saying that I can see your kindness. Thank you.

[He is smart enough to not let his guard down. As much as she wishes to know what he is really thinking and feeling, it's wiser that he keep that part of him guarded for now. He was right to believe that this was a dangerous court. So long as he kept everyone guessing, he might survive longer than his father.]

Some think it is their right and put it on hastily, without thought of the consequences. Others try to force the crown to fit.

You might be the first King that I have seen who understands the severity.

[She bows her head in thanks.]

Kindness comes easy when it's offered to a gentle person.

[ Robb doesn't really consider himself gentle. He's been through at least a dozen battles, killed men, seen men die, executed people with his own hand (the man who passes the sentence carries it out), fought a war - he is not gentle. He almost laughs, but he doesn't. Instead, he sighs softly. The temptation to open himself is still there. There is still danger, though. Probably always will be. ]

My father tried to impress on me the responsibility that comes with ruling. It isn't about personal power. It's... You are not just responsible for yourself. You are responsible for all of your sworn bannermen, for the smallfolk who look to you for protection. It - well. You know what I'm going to say.

[ He shakes his head. ]

You probably know that, though.

I do and it was what I was trying to say very badly before.

[Responsibility always came with a price. It meant that he wouldn't be able to do as he liked or follow where his heart may seek to go. She was part of his responsibility now and that burden could weigh down on him. She knew that and hoped he wouldn't begrudge her for where the winds of fate had taken them.]

My grandmother used to tell me the same.

[ He's feeling more comfortable and perhaps that's a mistake on his part. Part of him thinks it might be. He shouldn't be comfortable with her, not yet, but she seems to understand. So he does laugh, although it's less out of amusement and more a weary, tired sound. ]

Well, we have that in common, at least.

[ He resists the urge to wring his fingers together. ]

I'll do this, though. I'll - we'll be married. [ He's made the decision. ]

And perhaps that will stop this idiotic madness.

[As he grows more comfortable, she feels her walls begin to slowly lower. His laugh is charming, likely due to its rarity and honesty. She grins in return, allowing that courtly mask to slip away and let herself be genuine.]

We were bound to have at least something in common.

[He at least came to a decision, albeit a reluctant one.]

Sansa will be pleased. [At least someone would be.]

I'd hope so. From what she told me, you ended up being surrogate sisters, anyway...

[ He scrubs his face. He shouldn't be this comfortable with her already. He shouldn't be this comfortable in a garden that is still far too warm for him. Robb breathes out in a low sigh. ]

And maybe it will bring her a bit of comfort. Again... thank you. For everything you did to make her more comfortable. I appreciate it. She was alone here. Utterly alone.

[ And it still makes his blood boil to think about what had been done to her. He trails off and then adds, almost as an afterthought: ]

How quickly do you think we should make this happen?

We even plotted to find a way to be actual sisters through marriage.

[She assumed that Sansa told him that, but it seemed like a bit of a coincidence now...or fate. She hoped that he'd at least be amused; it had taken too long to get him to be relaxed.]

I was happy to have her friendship, truly. Some of the better parts of my day were spent walking through the gardens with her and watching my brother spar with his sworn brothers.

[She considered the question thoughtfully.]

Soon. Our families and your council should be told tonight or tomorrow. I think your mother should be the first to hear...I don't wish to offend Lady Stark. She was always kind to me.

[ His mother. That's... well, not a terrible thought, honestly. Not comforting, though. ]

She's going to be... very upset. And worried.

[ She does deserve to know, though. He shoots her a wan smile. ]

This is not how I imagined this conversation going. If I may be honest, my lady.

I would expect nothing else. [It wasn't something that Margaery had much experience in. She was never coddled as a child. As soon as she could walk, her grandmother focused completely on preparing her for this world and this game. It was why she had such a talent for it, but it came with a price.] If I can help at all...?

[Considering all the trouble that he was going to for this alliance, he shouldn't have to face it alone.]

Neither did I. This wasn't I intended when I came here, truly.

Do me a favor and handle your family so I don't have to.

[ That's a bit of a joke. He does have a sense of humor under there somewhere, after all. He scrubs at his face again, trying to concentrate. ]

I suppose we've surprised each other. Is your family going to be particular about which ceremony we use-?

[ Oh, now he's already thinking about logistics and what's going to have to be politically acceptable and what his family will find acceptable and - this never ends does it? He has a look of dazed surprise on his face for a moment, as if he's not sure what he's talking about. ]

You know, maybe I'll let someone else work that one out.

otherwordly.

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/End Scene