bakerstreet | otherwordly.

[ 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.

I will. I'm not concerned about their response.

[She laughs, but it's true. His family might protest or question the wisdom of this move, but her family would see it as an opportunity. They likely would be feeling generous and offer more soldiers and money to the Stark cause.

Once again, he catches her off guard.]

No. [After marrying twice before the new gods, it might take the old gods to break her curse.] I doubt they want an elaborate ceremony either. With the war expenses, it would be too costly.

Then if it's all the same to you, I think my family would prefer the old gods.

[ And so would he, if he's honest. He leans back on the bench and stares up at the blue sky overhead, trying to figure out what there is to say now. He doesn't feel like much of a king; just very confused and tired and, sickeningly, a bit relieved. ]

Sometimes I just wish the gods would let us take a breather. Even for a moment.

[ That's another crack in his armor. A glance into the person he is behind the dour, winter king. ]

Perhaps the old gods will be kinder.

[After two deaths and little stability, she is exhausted as well. He isn't the only one who wants the war and chaos to end. Unlike him, however, she doesn't have the luxury of returning home. Home was entirely dependent on what she managed to make in the world.]

There are moments when I think they do. [There were glimmers of hope and happiness in the future. Small, perhaps, but something. Once they were married, he might find a bit of peace.] You won't have to suffer it all alone. Perhaps that will make it more bearable?

I hope it does.

[ Tired. That's all he is. He wants his old life back, but that's never going to happen. So instead he's going to have to build a new one and hope against hope for the best. Even if the gods have decided to disappoint him on more then one occasion. ]

I... should speak to my mother. And my council. So we can start preparing. The sooner the better, I think.

[ He's pushing to his feet, because he's going to do this now, while he still feels like he has the energy for it. ]

[She rises as well, sensing that not only the audience is at an end, but so is his patience. In time, she hoped that she could learn to read him and find the means to ease his burden. These were early days yet.]

I will wait to speak to my family until tomorrow. It will give you the chance to speak to your mother and council. [It would let him save face should he change his mind, which part of her expected him to do.]

Send me if there is anything you wish to discuss, your grace.

Thank you.

[ A part of him thinks he might be making a mistake. Another part of him urges him to simply press on; make this happen and make everything work out for the best. ]

I'll... send you a note once things have been decided.

[ A pause and then he bows a bit stiffly, as if he's unsure how formal he ought to be. ]

Thank you for your words, Lady Tyrell. I'll see you soon, I imagine.

[ And then he's off, mind swirling with far too many thoughts. ]

[She watches him walk away, feeling as uncertain and bewildered as him. the reason for their meeting had taken a drastic turn and this easy retreat he wanted had become so much more complicated.

Yet there was no going back for her. Her existence and her family's depended on this marriage. Whatever the others might say, she needed to become his wife and queen.

The cycle was beginning again and she had to put her trust in the gods...and in him.]

otherwordly.

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/End Scene