Chapter Text
Margaery had to hold back the angry tears that threatened to fill her eyes as she stood tall in the king’s private audience chamber, refusing to meet Renly Baratheon’s gaze and shaking her head. It was almost hard to believe that earlier in the day she had wept tears of pure joy in the Tower of the Hand, when she had told Robb Stark that she was carrying their child and his reaction had been to break into the brightest of smiles and draw her into an embrace to kiss her. The two of them had subsequently spent the afternoon talking about names, and Robb had even told Margaery which set of chambers he thought would be suitable for a nursery in Winterfell. By the time they had realised they needed to tell Renly, they had both been so giddy that neither of them had quite been prepared for his reaction. Margaery thought that she barely recognised her husband, in fact, stern and unforgiving as he was stood before them. Renly is not your husband, she reminded herself, her hand resting on her belly. Your true husband is standing by your side.
“How can you say such things?” Robb addressed his king with a furrowed brow, “After all Margaery has done for you.”
“After all she has done for me? And what of all that I have done for the both of you?” Renly snapped, “I permitted you to be with this man, Margaery. I gave you consent to seek what I could not give you and you repay me by depriving me of an heir?”
“I tried to give you an heir, your grace,” Margaery pointed out, “Clearly I am fertile. If you are childless it is no fault of mine.”
“Yes, it is. It is your duty as my wife to bear children for me,” Renly stated plainly, “And so you shall. When this child is born, they will be raised as my own, as a prince or princess. It is a far better life than to be the Hand of the King’s bastard.”
“Our child is no bastard, and I would never give them up to you,” Robb told him, “We were married with the gods as our witness.”
“So you’ve told me,” Renly said coldly, “And so again I ask you: do the old gods not frown upon a lady taking another husband when she is already in a marriage?”
“What marriage?” Margaery questioned, looking incredulous, “I did my duty as your wife, Renly. I pleaded with you and I waited for you and I was even silent when you came to my bed drunk and treated me the way no woman deserves to be treated. But gods help me I will not live the rest of my life waiting for you to get drunk enough or desperate enough to try to put a child in me, nor will I let this child grow up thinking you are their father. They already have a father, and he is a thousand times the man you are. I would wager he would be a thousand times the king as well if he were sat on your—”
“Watch your tone when you speak to your king!” Renly interrupted, his voice loud enough that it made Robb instinctively take a step forwards. Margaery caught a glimpse of Robb’s hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and she placed her own hand on his arm to reassure him.
“I am disgusted that the both of you would betray me as you have, and that you’d have the audacity to demand that I take part in your further deception,” Renly stated, “Consider it my gift to you that I am letting you live. But when this child is born he or she will be named a Baratheon or I will execute you both for treason.”
“You would kill a newborn babe’s mother and father?” Margaery breathed, unable to blink back her tears then, “I do not know how it is that my brother bears as much love as he does for you. You are nothing short of a monster.”
All at once Margaery was turning on her heel and hurrying out of the king’s chambers, and all at once she realised from Robb’s expression that she had inadvertently revealed her king and her brother’s most closely guarded secret. She felt almost as though she should be afraid, and yet of all the things that were troubling her at the moment it seemed like that issue was the one she least had to worry about. She trusted Robb, and she knew he would never put Loras’s life at risk. The other matters on mind, however, seemed far more difficult to solve.
“This was his plan all along,” Margaery gasped amidst sobs once she and Robb had returned to the safety of the Tower of the Hand. Her husband – her true husband – had his arms wrapped around her and she felt safe in his embrace, but she feared for the child that was growing inside her. “There I was thinking he allowed us to be together out of the kindness of his heart…all he wanted as an heir,” she added, “I won’t let him have our baby, Robb. I won’t.”
“Neither will I,” Robb affirmed, his hand running soothingly over Margaery’s back, “Our child is to be raised by the both of us in Winterfell, I promise you. Just as we had planned.”
“But what of Renly?” Margaery questioned, “You heard him. He won’t…”
“I have an idea,” Robb explained, to which Margaery gently pulled away to look up at him. The small, reassuring smile he gave filled her with warmth and she blinked curiously as she waited for him to elaborate. “Gods be good, it may be just the key to getting your plans to come to fruition…and perhaps it might even bring your brother some happiness as well.”
There was a full moon shining brightly above her head on the night Margaery waited for Robb’s return, tired from having given birth only the day before but alert and eager to see her husband again. Her surroundings were far more modest than her quarters in the Red Keep, though she was aware the manse she was staying in would be nothing short of luxurious to many who lived in King’s Landing. For her part she was very pleased to be there, and she found that she did not miss the chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast that she had recently said goodbye to forever. Her brother, who was stood by her side, was looking at her rather strangely due to the simple clothes she was wearing, but she hoped even he could see how happy she was. The only person that could make her smile even brighter was soon at the door, and he was carrying a baby bundled up his arms.
“Hello, sweetheart. Good evening, Lord Commander,” Robb said, keeping his voice down, “This little one has been so well-behaved. He didn’t cry at all on the way here.”
“Either he is well behaved or you are simply already proving yourself a skilled father, my love,” Margaery commented with a smile, “He looks very content in your arms.”
Robb blushed, a proud smile of his own appearing on his face. “I should give him to his real father, though,” he commented, stepping forwards and gently passing the baby over to Loras.
Margaery had wondered before if Loras had ever even contemplated the idea of being a parent, but when she saw his face light up as he held the baby boy in his arms she knew she and Robb had made the right decision. The kingdom needed an heir, Loras and Renly needed a child, and this baby needed a loving home.
“Did you have any trouble at the orphanage?” Loras asked, gently cradling the boy who gurgled softly.
“None. There are so many children here…I think they were pleased somebody wanted to take one of them into their home,” Robb explained, “Apparently they found him abandoned in the streets a few days ago. They have no idea what happened to his mother and father.”
“He’s beautiful,” Margaery commented, “He will make a fine prince. Have you and Renly decided on a name yet?”
“Steffon,” Loras answered, “After…”
“Renly’s father,” Margaery finished for him, giving a small smile which Loras returned.
“Sister…” Loras said softly, “There are no words to thank you for everything you have done.”
“Do not thank me. It was Robb’s idea,” Margaery pointed out, “But if you wish to show your gratitude then show it by keeping your promise. Mother and Father can never know I am alive, and neither can Willas or Garlan or Grandmother anybody else.”
“As far as they will be concerned, you died in childbirth,” Loras declared with a nod, “And I hold your son in my arms. I am just sad they will never get to meet their…other grandchild.”
Margaery gave a small nod as well, tears pricking her eyes. Robb immediately made his way over to comfort her, and she let her head rest against his warm chest. “Tell them I love…loved them all very much,” she requested of her brother, “Reassure them that I am happy where I am now, for it is true and will be true. I wish there was another way.”
“So do I. I am glad I at least got to meet sweet Karine,” Loras commented, and not a moment later the soft sound of crying could be heard coming from the bedchamber, “Speaking of whom…”
“I think she may need changing,” Margaery told Robb, “She only just fed.”
“Can I change her?” Robb asked, and Margaery gave a small laugh at his slightly shy tone before nodding eagerly. One of the advantages of being hidden in a manse in King’s Landing was that she and Robb had been able to tend to their daughter themselves in these first few days of her life. Margaery knew that had she been in the Red Keep Karine would have been looked after by wetnurses and many other nurses besides, and she found she enjoyed being able to breastfeed her and change her and care for her herself.
“I think she’d like that,” Margaery affirmed, “She’s so very partial to you already. She always goes quiet when you’re holding her.”
“Probably because she knows I have no milk for her,” Robb commented playfully. He soon disappeared through the door behind Margaery, and came back holding his fussing infant daughter. The small girl was rather red-faced from crying, which only seemed to make it even more evident that the small tuft of hair on her head was the same auburn as her father’s.
“Shhh, sweet girl,” Robb whispered soothingly, pressing a kiss to Karine’s forehead before laying her down on the table, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I should take this one back to the castle,” Loras commented of the boy he was holding, “He’ll need feeding before long. When are you leaving, sister?”
“Soon,” Margaery answered him, “We want Karine to grow a bit stronger, but we also don’t want to wait too long. She is a Stark, besides. Robb made the journey to Winterfell when he was but an infant and Karine will follow in his footsteps.”
“And what of you?” Loras questioned, “I am concerned for your safety as well.”
“You need not be,” Margaery affirmed, “I will have Robb with me…and I am a Stark as well.”
The walls of the Great Keep of Winterfell were made of granite in a shade of grey that many would have deemed dull, but Margaery thought the castle itself was the exact opposite. When she had come to the North she had brought very little by way of luggage and so not long after arriving she had made many seamstresses happy by visiting them and asking them to make several dresses. She had many made in grey and white, the colours of her husband’s house and of hers, and some in green as well to honour her family. She also had a collection of fur pelts made from the animals Robb often caught on the hunt in the Wolfswood. Folk called her a most elegant Lady of Winterfell, and it pleased her beyond measure that Robb’s people had been quick to accept her and her story that she was the daughter of a southron lord whom Robb had married in King’s Landing. She had of course taken a few measures to ensure they did so, including taking Karine on outings to introduce her to the smallfolk, and making sure to spend her coin in the nearby winter town as often as possible. Even though Catelyn had been somewhat sceptical of her at first, she had soon taken to her when she saw how she managed the household and gave Robb council whenever he needed it and took care of her infant. In truth, Margaery was almost certain Catelyn would have forgiven her anything if it meant she could spend time with her first grandchild. Margaery had in fact left Karine in Catelyn’s care that very evening, as she had a small surprise in store for Robb.
Margaery thought the hot springs beneath Winterfell were a blessing as the warmth inside the castle meant that she and Robb could often spend time with very few clothes on at all. The one shift she had sewn for her was rarely used, as there were few things she enjoyed more than feeling Robb’s skin against hers when they slept. On that particular morning she had woken to the feeling of his scratchy beard on her thighs before she’d guided him between her legs and leant back to let him pleasure her with his lips and tongue. The gesture had made her want to do something for him in return, and she had soon hit upon the idea of waiting for him that night dressed in nothing but one of his cloaks. His reaction when the door opened and he caught sight of her told her that her efforts definitely hadn’t been in vain.
“Seven hells,” Robb commented, kissing her deeply on the mouth after staring at her for a good few minutes with wide eyes. “I married a goddess, not a maiden,” he declared playfully.
“Hush. What would the gods say of such words, Robb Stark?” Margaery teased, giggling against his lips, “I thought we could continue our efforts tonight, although I suspect I may be carrying our second child already.”
“It never hurts to keep trying until we know for certain,” Robb agreed, already starting to undress himself with his wife’s help.
Margaery wondered sometimes if the gods had always planned for her life to end up as it had, or if she and Robb had made it so. All she knew for certain was that she did not regret anything that had occurred from the first night she had spent with Robb to the long journey to Winterfell to now, where her days were happier than they had ever been. There were days when she missed her family, it was true, and on such days Robb would go with her to the godswood where they would pray together for the health and happiness of the Tyrells. The sadness she felt on occasion, however, was nothing compared to her life at King’s Landing. In Highgarden they had called her a rose, and now she thought they might have been right to. Like a rose she thought she had proved she indeed had thorns, and like a rose she also knew she needed her share of water and sunlight to bloom. Ever since she had met and then married Robb, though, it felt as though he had awoken another living being inside her that she didn’t even know had been there.
“She-wolf,” Robb murmured to her after they’d all but collapsed into each other’s arms with shallow breathing and satisfied smiles. His comment was prompted by her nipping at his ear, and it made her laugh.
Margaery had held many titles, some commonly known and others in her head, from Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to adulteress, and she knew Robb had also been everything from Hand of the King to lover to the Lord of Winterfell once more. The title her husband had just given her, however, was the one Margaery decided she liked most of all.
“Happy to be,” Margaery declared, “If you will be my wolf.”