Rob VIII

Robb followed the giant twins through the camp towards an area that was mostly green and gold. The colors of House Tyrell.

Even though Robb and his companions had joked about how unfit some of the men looked for war, there were some groups that the northern king saw that looked like they were preparing for battle. The warriors owed loyalty to some of the more powerful houses in the Reach; House Hightower, House Rowan, House Tarly, and House Redwyne.

The one group that impressed Robb the most were the men bearing the sigil of House Tarly of Horn Hill. These men were constantly drilling and were the most disciplined group of soldiers Robb had ever seen. It's said that the best warriors came from Horn Hill, a place that bred fighters. This rumor was made all the more true when one considered who commanded these men. Randyll Tarly was highly regarded as one of the best fighters and commanders in all of Westeros. The only man to defeat Robert Baratheon during his rebellion.

"Lady Olenna is just inside." One of the giants said, shaking Robb from his thoughts. The tent was nearly as elaborate as Renly's. A mass of green and golden roses.

Robb ducked inside, a hand falling to his sword. The interior of the tent was well decorated and comfortable, with an obvious design of golden roses and green. A brazier glowed in the corner, filling the room with warmth. Just as with Renly's, food and wine seemed to be abundant.

"Oh, no need for that, my lord. I assure you, I am no threat." A voice tutted from the side of the room.

Robb turned to see an old woman sitting alone at a table, a platter of cheese and fruit in front of her. She was small, really the size of a child, with white hair and a wizened face. A cane was leaning against the table within easy reach of her spotted hand.

She patted the chair next to her. "Come, sit," she ordered, popping a date in her mouth.

Robb raised an eyebrow, but took the proffered seat. "Thank you," he said slowly. "I take it you are Lady Olenna."

The woman's smile was unique to Robb. It was innocent, but at the same time mischievous, like there was an inside joke between the old woman and Robb that only she knew.

"I am. And you are Robb Stark, the King in the North," she said with a mock growl when saying Robb's title. "I say, it has been many years since I have met a Stark. You don't look much like one."

Robb frowned. "I take after my mother, but that makes me no less a Stark, my lady," he answered stiffly.

"Aye, winter runs through your veins, it's not hard to see," the old woman said, shrugging. Glancing down at Greywind, who had laid down next to Robb's seat. "As is the giant wolf by your side." She clasped her hands in front of her, a regretful expression on her face. "It's a tragedy what happened to Ned Stark. He was a good man."

Robb raised an eyebrow. "You knew him?"

Olenna shook her head. "I can't say I knew him well. I've only ever seen him once, during the Tourney at Harrenhal. He was a serious boy, much different from his brash older brother and passionate sister. From what I heard, it seemed like the years had not changed that." She explained, putting her hands back in her lap. "However, what can not be disputed was that Late Lord Stark was a man of honor."

Robb gave the woman a brief, grateful smile. "He was." He said. "I assume you asked me here to do more than offer your condolences?"

Lady Olenna laughed. "My word, you certainly are a northman. No time for southern pleasantries." She popped another date in her mouth, looking at Robb with shrewd interest as she chewed. "I understand you are looking to ally with us. I wanted to know the kind of man we might ally with," she explained. "I must say, you have shocked us all, Robb Stark. Even Tarly's impressed. You are winning the war, why come to us?"

"The war would be over sooner if Renly would get a move on. He's wasting time." Robb answered bitterly.

Lady Olenna sighed "We agree on that matter. Renly has been ignoring his council's advice, spending his time with tourneys and feasts instead of planning for war," she admitted. "Not that my son has any problem with that."

Robb looked at her. "Why? He has the manpower to easily sweep away all competitors. Why does he not see this?"

Lady Olenna shook her head. "I wish I had an answer for you. From what my granddaughter has told me, Renly believes that you and Tywin will tear each other apart, leaving him to walk in and claim the throne himself." She then leaned forward slightly. "Unless you have any plans about that?"

Robb scoffed. "I told Renly that my offer is on the table until tomorrow night. If he doesn't take it, then I will deal with Tywin and Joffrey myself."

Lady Olenna raised her eyebrow at the iron in Robb's voice. "And what are your terms?"

"I don't want the Iron Throne, Renly, or whoever takes it, can have it. All I want is what was taken from my family back." Robb explained. "Once I have those, then the North and Riverlands will become independent from the Iron Throne."

Lady Olenna raised an eyebrow, impressed. She nodded to the crown sitting on Robb's head. "You mean to keep your kingship."

Robb nodded. "My men have declared me King of the North. I can not and will not take their oaths of loyalty and sell them."

"But your men did not proclaim you king of the Riverlands?" Lady Olenna pointed out.

"The Riverland lords kneeled just as the Northern lords did. That means I'm their king too." Robb replied with a shrug.

Their conversation was interrupted when Lady Margaery, Renly's wife, slipped into the tent. She looked up in surprise when she saw Robb, instantly dropping into a curtsey. "I am sorry King Robb, I did not know you were present." She apologized. She made to leave, but Robb caught her before she could.

"It's quite alright my lady. Your grandmother and I were just talking." Robb said easily, getting up to pull out a chair for her. "Please, you may join us if you wish."

Margaery smiled and took the seat. Robb pushed her back in and returned to his seat.

"I hope my grandmother has not scared you too much," Margaery said with a slight smile, plucking a grape from the vine.

Robb grinned easily. "No, not yet."

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when Greywind also decided to introduce himself to Margaery. The giant wolf padded forward, pushing his nose onto Margaery's lap, sniffing her hands and person, looking up at her with curious golden eyes.

Margaery gasped, leaning back slightly, obviously scared of the wolf. Robb snapped his fingers.

"Down Greywind!" He ordered. The wolf sat back on its haunches but did not leave his spot in front of Margaery.

The young queen laid a hand on her lap slowly, allowing Greywind to lean forward and sniff her. When she passed the wolf's test, he pushed his head under her hand. Margaery laughed, relieved, and began to run her hand through the wolf's fur, marveling at the fact that she was petting a real direwolf.

"He's magnificent." She breathed.

"He's a big puppy when he wants," Robb said with a soft chuckle. "But he's quite a sight in battle. Scared more than a few lannister horses and the knights on them."

Margaery nodded. "I can imagine. My brother Willas breeds hounds, but none of them compare to your wolf."

"There's none like him south of the Wall." Robb pointed out. "Besides his littermates, of course."

"There are others?" Margaery asked.

Robb nodded. "All my siblings have one. Including Jon, my natural-born brother."

"Are they like…." Margaery began to ask, then realizing she didn't know the wolf's name.

"Greywind." Robb helped. "I would imagine so. I saw my brother Jon before I came south, and Ghost was just as large as his brother here."

"Where are the other's?" Margaery pressed.

"Ghost is with Jon in Riverrun, Summer and Shaggydog are with my youngest brothers in Winterfell, and Nymeria and Lady I have no clue. They belong to my sisters; Arya and Sansa." Robb answered.

"How big do they grow to be?"

"Bigger than ponies, or so the maester of Winterfell tells my brother," Robb responded with a laugh.

"Lord Stark and I were talking about his conversation with Renly." Lady Olenna said, bringing the conversation back on track.

"I trust your talk with my husband went well?" Margaery asked, becoming a bit more business-like, although she kept one hand petting Greywind at all times.

Robb noticed the little shift Margaery made in her attitude. She was going to take their discussion seriously and not make stupid comments, much like her grandmother hasn't. He looked closely at her, noting the intelligence that she hid rather well in her eyes. She was certainly more than a pretty face.

"I did not get the answer I hoped for, but I will get it tomorrow night no matter what," Robb answered honestly. "I have given Renly a deadline. I will have my answer by tomorrow night, and if I do not receive one, then I leave regardless the next morning."

Margaery raised an eyebrow. "Why so soon?"

"I've been away from my men for too long," Robb replied firmly. "I am fighting a war, my lady."

"Surely you have commanders who can lead your army for you?" Margaery questioned.

"Aye, I left my men under the direction of my great uncle, the Blackfish. A fine commander of men, but they are my men. I should be leading them." Robb replied.

Margaery nodded, glancing at her grandmother for a moment before bringing her gaze back to Robb. "I have heard many interesting things about the North from my brother and father, but have never actually met a northerner," she said thoughtfully. "You're not at all what I imagined."

Robb smiled slightly. "I hope that is a compliment, my lady," he said with a chuckle. "Though now I am curious. What did you imagine?"

Margaery hesitated. "I thought northerners were….more barbaric." She admitted. "Your companion, Smalljon, you called him, is what I imagined."

"Though the man was anything but small." Lady Olenna commented drily.

Robb laughed. "We call him Smalljon because his father is the Greatjon, and both are probably closer to what you think is a stereotypical northerner," he explained easily. "Do you find me barbaric, my lady?"

Margery shook her head slightly. "Not at all, my lord," she replied quietly.

Robb smiled. "We northerners are just different is all. We have no time for fancy language when there is a harvest to collect and firewood to cut. The words of my house are 'Winter is Coming', and we in the North must always be ready."

"A fine lesson." Lady Olenna complimented. "My dear, you said your father and brother told you this?"

Margaery nodded. "Yes, Grandmother."

Lady Olenna scoffed. "Forgive my family, Lord Stark, my son and youngest grandson are quite foolish and speak without thinking."

Robb waves aside the apology. "Think nothing of it, I have heard worse. There are those who believe that I changed into a great grey direwolf and snapped up the Kingslayer with one monstrous bite."

Margaery giggled, causing both Robb and Olenna to look towards her. "Forgive me, my lord, that is also something that my father mentioned."

"If that is what your father believes, then I am sorry if I fall short of the mark." Robb chuckled. The northern king rose to his feet, Greywind instantly at his side. How bowed to both Margaery and Olenna.

"Thank you, my ladies, for your company. As enjoyable as it was, I am afraid I must return to my friends. I would hate for them to worry."

Margaery smiled, looking at the same time a little sad that Greywind had walked away. "Of course, my lord. We appreciate your time. Hopefully, we speak again."

Robb grinned. "I hope so as well," he said, bowing once more before he strode out. Greywind looked once more at Margaery before following his master.

Line Break

Margaery

After the northern king left, her grandmother bit into a piece of cheese and chewed thoughtfully. "He likes you quite a bit my dear," she commented casually, watching to see how her granddaughter reacted.

Margaery shrugged, pouring herself wine and cradling the glass in her hand. "It's not like that matters." She replied, not hiding the bitterness in her voice.

"It might," Olenna said. "He's young, handsome, successful, and the most eligible man in Westeros."

"I raise my glass to whatever lucky girl gets him," Margaery said, taking a drink of wine.

The Rose of Highgarden was not happy in her marriage, although many who saw the 'royal' couple would beg to differ. They played their parts very well; Renly the charming king and Margaery his dutiful queen. But away from prying eyes, the marriage was nothing more than two strangers who didn't even sleep in the same bed. Renly was everything Robb was in appearance. Tall, muscular, handsome, well-spoken, and charming. There were two distinct differences between the two men. The first was that Robb was a warrior. He had fought in battle and earned his spurs. Renly had not. The youngest baratheon did not care for war, only the power that it would bring him. That's why he had men like Randyll Tarly, Mathis Rowan, and Bryce Caron. They would lead his army, and he would take glory for the victories.

The second difference between the two men, and perhaps the most important, was that Renly was not exactly attracted to the fairer sex. He loved a Tyrell, but not Margaery. No, Renly's love and affection belonged to Margaery's brother Loras, who had been Renly's squire and secret lover for years. All of Loras' family knew, but they knew that he was happy with Renly, and chose to never say anything. Now, his love had trapped House Tyrell to Renly's cause.

Robb Stark was everything Margaery had hoped Renly would be. He was charming and gentlemanly, with a masculine nature that wasn't overbearing. He also didn't seem to mind discussing important matters with women, something he had just displayed not a few minutes ago.

He was also quite handsome, with curly auburn hair, deep blue eyes, and a rugged handsomeness paired with a natural confidence that made girls want to throw themselves at the young man.

Olenna noticed the look in her granddaughter's eye. She had seen it from time to time, whenever a passing minstrel or knight visited Highgarden.

"You fancy him."

Margaery hesitated, but nodded. "I do." She admitted gently, tapping her finger repeatedly against her glass.

Olenna shook her head sadly. "You are married my dear, and we have made our bed with Renly Baratheon. Now we must lie in it."

"He will not lie next to me." Margaery joked. "But I see your point."

Olenna looked at her granddaughter. She had not intended to put her into a loveless marriage. Olenna's own husband hadn't been exactly the sharpest sword in the armory, but he was actually attracted to her.

"I want you to get close to Robb Stark," Olenna said finally.

Margaery raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "For what purpose?"

"Robb Stark does not intend to lose this war." Olenna explained. "It might prove advantageous to build a good relationship with him. Do not forget, the North and the Riverlands are not the only kingdoms in Westeros who are angered by the passing of Eddard Stark. The man was loved in the Vale as well."

"But the Vale hasn't joined with the Riverlands or the North." Margaery pointed out.

Olenna pursed her lips. "A curious situation to be sure, but there is a very good chance that they will in time."

Margaery nodded. "I will do as you ask."

Olenna smirking. "I have no doubt of that, my dear, and I'm sure you'll have some fun with that. After a few weeks with Renly, I bet it'll be nice to have a man pay attention to you."

Margaery laughed. "Robb Stark is just a friend, grandmother."

Olenna nodded to her protege. "That's my girl."