Margaery Tyrell slid open the window panel of the carriage she shared with her brother Garlan and the lady Brienne. It was still raining, as it had been for the past two days. By turns the rain would mist or pour from the sky in sheets. At the moment the rain was lighter but still falling at a determined pace.

Through the rain she could see the tall, grey walls of Winterfell growing steadily nearer. So dreary this northern realm seemed to her. Perhaps it was just the weather which made her feel so uncertain about the North. Perhaps it was the reality of her betrothal finally sinking into her mind. The marriage had been as much her plan as it was Garlan's, but it had not seemed real until more recently. She had been betrothed and wed previously, but this felt different. Then again, life was different.

Life had not seemed so grim the first time she was fifteen years old and marrying. Lord Renly Baratheon was a long time acquaintance, and close friend of her brother Loras. They had wed in high spirits, with the dream of being King and Queen glimmering in their minds. But Renly had died and her family used it as an opportunity. She had not been permitted to mourn Renly, not when she could wed the insane bastard boy king, Joffrey called Baratheon.

She had disliked Joffrey from the moment she had met him. He was proud, childish, and cruel. If ever there was a complete opposite to Renly it was Joffrey. Her skin had crawled at his every touch and kiss. Her dislike of the boy had only increased after Sansa's confessions about him. Her grandmother had insisted that it was her duty as the King's betrothed to engender a better relationship than he had possessed with Lady Sansa. She had tried. She had smiled and laughed and lauded him for all to hear.

His death had been as relieving as it was terrifying. Now, in the present, his death was still a relief. He would not be able to terrorize anyone ever again. Then, at what became known as the Purple Wedding, Margaery had wondered if the poison which had killed Joffrey had been meant for her as well. The accusations which were levied against Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark had seemed erroneous from the start. No doubt Sansa had wanted Joffrey's head to be impaled upon a spike, but the girl would never have acted without help and would never have done it so publicly. Similar arguments could have been made for why Tyrion Lannister was innocent, but his trial had not been about truth. The trial had been about Cersei Lannister's rage.

It had not been until after her marriage to the newly crowned child-king Tommen that Margaery learned the truth about Joffrey's death. She had told her grandmother that she was terrified to be in King's Landing, that she might be poisoned or killed. Lady Olenna had smiled at her, and assured her that she would be safe. "You have nothing to fear my sweet one. Oh the Queen Dowager will trouble you, of that I have no doubt, but you are more than a match for her."

When Margaery had pressed further, stating her doubts about Sansa and Tyrion's involvement in Joffrey's death, she learned something close to the truth. Her grandmother's smirk had grown ominous. "Would you fear roses sweetling? I am certain that the girl is safe, and that her so-called husband will meet his end soon enough. Your duty will be to navigate the muddy waters of this city and to bear the heirs to the throne when your husband is of age. Do not worry yourself with matters which are well under control."

They had exchanged a meaningful look, and Margarey deciphered the truth. It had been her own family who had been responsible for King Joffrey's death. And from that day forward, Margaery had been forced to live with the truth while fending off the madness of Queen Cersei.

She had survived her false accusations and her trial by the Faith. Sadly, Queen Cersei had been found innocent as well, but she no longer held any power. The Lannisters had been weakened by the murders of Lords Tywin and Kevan, the poor decisions of Queen Cersei, and the many disappearances of Lannister men in the Riverlands, including Ser Jaime. The Tyrells had suffered their own losses as well. Loras had succumbed to the wounds he had received when storming Dragonstone. Margaery's father, Lord Mace, died during Aegon, claiming to be a Targaryen's, siege of King's Landing.

What a difference a few years had made to Westeros. War after war, king after king, the kingdoms were a wasteland of bodies and winter had arrived in full force. A year after Joffrey had died, Aegon had arrived with his armies to lay siege to King's Landing. Surrendering to Aegon had been the safest move. Surrendering ended the siege and allowed for the potential to regroup and perhaps even overthrow Aegon.

Margaery had taken it upon herself to secure her own position and that of her family. She had no faith in kings, especially not after Joffrey Baratheon. She did have faith in herself, faith in her ability to charm a man. So she used herself to keep her head firmly attached to her neck. It had been to her benefit that Aegon was a mostly naïve and sheltered young man. She had been able to sway him easily. She had never anticipated that he would be able to win her heart, but he did. With every day that passed, his kindness won her to him. When Queen Daenerys had arrived two years later, their arrangement did not change terribly much. The Queen was the Queen, and Margaery was the mistress. And that was how things had remained until King's Landing fell to the Others five years later.

"What are you thinking about," Garlan asked, breaking Margaery from her thoughts.

"Of all the loves I've had before," she replied cryptically. Seeing the frowns of her brother and companion, Margaery laughed lightly. "No need to fret, this new life seems filled with unique possibilities. Perhaps it is just the rain which saddens me."

Neither of her companions appeared to be convinced, but they allowed the matter to rest.

She watched as the walls of Winterfell grew until they loomed overhead and they finally passed beneath the gates. They were a vast host, and movement was slower in the courtyard. They remained inside the carriage until they reached a large tower where many other people were entering. They stopped, and the carriage door was opened. Garlan stepped out first and was followed by herself and Brienne. The rain only fell lightly upon them as they walked into the entry vestibule of the Great Keep.

The party which greeted them was small. Servants, stewards, and a wide array of people were bustling in and out of the hall, assisting with the incoming guests. Standing calmly before them were a somber looking, middle aged man, with brown hair and grey eyes, a younger man who reminded Margaery of Sansa, and a large wolf which was seated between the men.

"Welcome to Winterfell," the older man said. His voice was kind, a lord's voice. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

Garlan introduced himself, Margaery, and Brienne. Lord Stark introduced his son and heir, Robb. The men clasped hands, and kissed Margaery's hand. They greeted Brienne politely, but she was not the sort of woman one kisses upon the hand in greeting. Margaery noticed the look which passed between Robb and Brienne, the two had never met, but knew of one another.

Margaery studied he betrothed while her brother and his father were speaking. She noticed that he was observing her as well. He did have a certain appeal to him, sparkling blue eyes and fiery hair, strong features and well-muscled. She was uncertain if she was happy or upset that he bore no resemblance to Aegon. Would she ever be able to forget Aegon and accept her place beside this new man? Would she learn to feel at home so far north, in a place which in no way resembled her home?

"I apologize for such a small welcoming party," Lord Eddard said. "With the weather forcing us to welcome you in such a small, busy area, having my entire family here to greet you would make travel through this hall quite difficult. We are planning a welcoming feast in our Great Hall this evening. An hour before the feast it will be my pleasure to introduce you to the rest of my family. For the time being, you may wish to see your rooms and refresh yourselves?"

After being stuck inside a carriage for a day, the only thing which she desired to do was to walk. "If it is not an imposition, I would enjoy seeing more of Winterfell. Having been inside a carriage for so long makes one wish to walk about."

Lord Eddard looked to his son, and Robb responded as was expected. "It would be an honor to show you around the castle, my lady. I hope that you will not be offended by Greywind's presence?"

Did she have a choice? She assumed that Greywind was the massive wolf which was seated beside Lord Robb. If she were truly to marry into the family, she would need to learn to accept the presence of the wolf. "Will I be safe?"

"So long as you have no ill intent, Greywind will not seek to harm you. Here, hold out your hand to him."

She approached the direwolf. Its head was higher than her waist and the creature was still seated. No wonder Robb Stark had earned the name 'Young Wolf'. She held out a cautious hand, as she would with a dog. The direwolf sniffed her hand for a moment and then licked the tips of her fingers. She looked up at her betrothed, curious.

He grinned at her. She liked his smile, it brightened his eyes. "It seems that you are accepted, my lady."

She laughed in relief, happy that the creature had not taken off her hand. "I am glad of that."

"Lord Stark," Garlan said, "While my sister is being shown around, shall we finalize the details of our pact?"

Lord Eddard bowed his head in agreement. "Of course. Vayon, please assist with the remaining arrivals."

"Of course, my lord," a nearby man, who was slightly shorter and greyer than Lord Stark, replied.

Garlan kissed her cheek. "Enjoy your tour."

"Enjoy the paperwork," she replied with a wry smile.

He shook his head at her. She knew that he often preferred to not be the person in charge of technical political details, but the lot had fallen to him in this matter. Their father had laid that charge upon him when they met to say farewell on the way to the Riverlands. The North was too far a journey for her parents and grandmother to journey. Loras had chosen to remain with Lord Renly when they returned to King's Landing. Willas making the journey was considered too difficult given his leg. There was no political value in her cousins being her attendants in the North, so they had remained behind as well. So all the family which was left to her was Garlan, until he too returned south. Part of Margaery was glad to be away from her family, and part of her would miss them fiercely, she supposed that was the way of the world. She was always going to marry away from Highgarden and become the lady of that household, leaving her own family behind.

Garlan and Lord Stark left the room after a few moments. A whirl of men and women were still moving through the room, with various attendants of House Stark directing the arrivals down various halls. She noticed Brienne standing there, seeming lost and out of place.

"Lady Brienne, would you be so kind as to see to our rooms while I become acquainted with Lord Robb?"

The older girl's face flooded with relief, nearly smiling. The poor girl had scarcely smiled since... well since Renly had died in their first lifetime. Coming to Winterfell was duty for Brienne, but duty often had a bitter taste. She agreed, and departed from the hall with one of the young women in service to House Stark. Margaery left the entry hall upon Robb's arm a few moments later, his direwolf trailing behind them.

"Winterfell is a lovely place," she told him politely. She did think that Winterfell had a certain grandeur. It was ancient, its history was lost in the depths of time. Built by Bran the Builder during the Age of Heros, or so it was said, and it felt older if such a thing were possible. The white walls of Highgarden, the black walls of Storm's End, and the red walls of King's Landing did not hold the same type of awe which Winterfell inspired.

"That is kind of you to say. I am certain that it is nothing like Highgarden."

"True, nor is it like Storm's End or the other castles of the south. It does however feel different, older, almost sacred."

"Sacred," he mulled over the word for a few moments. "Other than our godswood, and the sept which my father built for my mother, I do not believe I have heard Winterfell described as sacred before. Though perhaps you are right. Winterfell is ancient. My family's bones for a thousand generations lie buried here."

"Which is one of the many benefits my family sees in our marriage."

He glanced down at her. "Might I ask what the other reasons were?"

To prevent the war, she thought grimly. She looked up at him and smiled. "Did you not read our betrothal pact?"

His cheeks flushed pink, a charming trait. "I must confess that I did not spend much time learning the details of the arrangement. Would you care to enlighten me?"

The King in the North indeed... She looked around the hall and could see that they were alone for the moment. "For Highgarden, the marriage will strengthen the position of House Tyrell. I come from the youngest of the Great Houses and you from two of the oldest. You are the heir of Winterfell and the second in line to Riverrun, through your mother. You are cousin to the future Lord of the Vale. Economically speaking, Highgarden will receive a reduction in the cost of lumber, quarried stone, metals, furs, wool, and a variety of other Northern products. There is also a reduction in cost for some trade items with Riverrun due to your close blood ties. The North will receive produce from the Reach at a reduced rate, as well as similar reductions in the price of spices, lumber, cloth, and so forth. Some sum of gold has been exchanged, I am certain. And the six thousand men who accompanied me and are encamped outside of Winterfell, as well as supplies have been ordered North for the improvement of the Wall. A gesture of good will to House Stark, as the Wall is considered important to your House. The men are to serve a term of ten years in the North, and may remain if they wish or they may return to the Reach when their term of service has ended."

In ten years, either they would all be dead or the Others would be defeated...

He nodded thoughtfully. "My uncle Benjen was here a few months ago and I heard him speaking with my father about the men who are to serve at the Wall. It is quite a change in the routine for the Wall, but he said that they will be grateful for the support. He returned to prepare for their arrival."

"That is good news. I do not know what your father or my brother have planned, but it might be easier to send them on to Castle Black before there is no more room for anyone to move outside the walls of your castle."

She grinned at him and he laughed. "You are probably correct."

"Are all of your lords here?"

She felt his arm tense, and looked to see that his entire demeanor had stiffened. "No, not yet. The Umbers, Karstarks, and Manderleys are still on their way, as is Lord Bolton."

He whispered the last word. She had a suspicion as to why he tensed at the thought of Lord Bolton. Though she did not know for certain, she remembered hearing that it was Roose Bolton himself who had murdered Robb Stark. She slid her arm from his gentle, polite, escort hold and grasped his hand. For a moment his seemed lost somewhere else, but he eventually squeezed her hand.

"Is there a place where we might speak without the fear of prying ears?" Speaking about some things, such as a future in which they had all lived and died, would be better where no one could hear them and think them insane.

He bowed his head thoughtfully, still tense. "I think that I know a place, if you aren't afraid of getting your clothing a little wet."

She grinned at him, hoping to set him at ease. "I do not have a fear of water, be it falling from above or rising from below."

Her tone seemed to have a positive effect upon him because he grinned at her. "The falling from above kind, but I do know a way to where we are going that will allow us to remain mostly dry."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He led her down many corridors, telling her of the rooms which they passed as they walked. They had started in the Great Keep, she was informed. The Great Keep housed the Starks and many others. She would have rooms prepared within the Great Keep, and her brother and Lady Brienne would also be housed there during their stay. They walked up a curved stone staircase and then proceeded across a covered bridge which led to the armory. They walked down to the ground level again, and out into a courtyard on the far side of the armory. The rain was still falling steadily, but there was a small, covered walkway along the outside of the building which Robb informed her was the Guard Hall. When the roof above the walkway ended, they walked swiftly along a path across the courtyard and into a building which appeared to be rather abandoned.

"Welcome to the First Keep, my lady," he said once they were inside the dark entryway of the building.

She shook the rain from her dress and cloak, a little winded from their pace across the courtyard. "First Keep?"

"This is the oldest building in all of Winterfell. It is also unoccupied and the only people who tend to come here are my siblings and I... or servants meeting for private trysts." She laughed at that, as he continued. "This is where we talk about the past the most, fewer prying ears. Although Winterfell is rather safe when it comes to secrets."

"I'm glad to hear that. It would be unfortunate for the wrong person to overhear that we remember events which have not happened, or that we should have no knowledge of."

"Agreed. Follow me, there is a room where we can sit and dry off."

She agreed and walked slowly behind him, down a long, rather dark, corridor. Near the end of the passage, he turned to the right and pushed open a door. The room was bathed in a dull grey light which came through the windows. He walked to a fireplace, picked something up from the mantle, and then knelt. A few moments later, a small fire awoke and the room illumined. He added a few logs to the fire and offered for her to sit upon some of the cushions which were near the fireplace.

She walked over to the fire and joined him on the cushions. The dryness of the room and warmth of the fire were pleasant. "Why does no one live in this tower anymore?"

"The roof needs to be repaired and there are other issues which need to be fixed. My brothers, sisters, and I have played in here and in the broken tower since we were little. Sansa suggested that this would be a good place to come when we want to have discussions about everything, and we all agreed. We brought the cushions here and the firewood, kindling, and flint."

The idea seemed sensible. Meeting where few could overhear plans was always a good idea. "How many of you remember?"

"Myself, my sisters Sansa, and Arya, my brothers Jon, Bran, Rickon, Theon Greyjoy, and my mother."

"Your mother?" Brienne would not be happy to learn that fact. What would Catelyn Stark be like now? The woman whom she had met at Bitterbridge had been strong, determined, and fearless. The woman who had died and been reborn, as Brienne had confessed before King Aegon's court, was a monster. What was she now?

He nodded slowly. "She has had a difficult time, though truthfully it has been hard for all of us."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I can imagine that it was easier to awaken here, with family who remembered then it was for me to wake up alone. I thought that I had gone insane. After a few days I thought that maybe I had just dreamt ten years of my life, but I knew that was impossible. When Garlan arrived and told me everything I was so relieved."

"It wasn't easier," he whispered. "Having Bran here to explain what had happened and why he had sent us back helped, but not really. We all died and we all remember dying. We were all together again, and that helps, but it doesn't change the past."

She bowed her head in agreement. "We all remember dying, each and every one of us. We cannot change the past, we can only hope to change the future. That is the entire reason I am here."

"I know." Silence fell for a few moments, with just their thoughts and the crackling of the fire filling their minds. Greywind had been pacing the room, but was now lying between them on the wooden floor. "Whose idea was it for us to marry?"

An interesting question, though not terribly unexpected. "Garlan came up with the idea before he arrived in Highgarden. He proposed the idea to me and I agreed that marrying Highgarden to Winterfell would be the best way for us to work toward ending the War of Five Kings before it began. So far, everything seems to be working in our favor, though if we cannot defeat the Others none of the rest matters does it?"

"No, I suppose not. I know that my father is going to the Wall after we are wed, with Jon and Bran. They have not told me much of their plan, but I believe that they will be able to accomplish their goals."

"I have faith in Bran and Daenerys. I watched Dany arrive in King's Landing upon the back of her massive black dragon. I watched her fight for the remnants of the country to survive even when there was no hope that we could win. She and your brother were able to bring us back to this time so that we could change the past. I believe that they will be able to stop the Others."

"If the gods allow." She silently agreed with his sentiment. "How did you convince your family to agree to the match and the wedding so quickly?"

"Oh that wasn't terribly difficult," she said with laugh. "They were already looking to sell me off to King Robert, a foolish scheme that did not work the first time around. So, Garlan and I mentioned that you were of an age with me. Heir to the North and second in line to the Riverlands is quite a step up for my ever ambitious family. When Samwell Tarly's letters arrived saying that your family should remember, we assumed that the match would be approved. I also told my family that I was impatient to be married, and that will make any father try to marry off his daughter quickly."

He raised a brow at her words and smirked. "Impatient to marry?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't die a blushing maiden. I had seven years at Aegon's side."

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to decipher something. "King Aegon? The one who married Daenerys?"

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "Didn't anyone tell you? Sansa knew, and Jon. I assumed that one of them would have said something."

He shook his head slowly. "Sansa and I have a lot to work through. The most she told me about you is that you are 'kind, sweet, and cunning as a viper.' She later apologized for yelling at me. It has been difficult for her, for all of us. I don't know why Jon never mentioned it, but he has been more focused on matters with the North."

"He was then too. With the Wall being breached, and needing supplies, he never rested. He would fly his dragon from the Wall to King's Landing and to the Vale. Does he want to be king?"

"I haven't asked, and he hasn't talked about it. I don't think that he is concerned with anything other than preventing all of our deaths."

A short burst of laughter escaped from her lips at that statement. All of their lives, what a small thing to be concerned with. "Then I suppose I will have to ask him at some point, discretely." She added the last word when she noticed Robb's eyes widening with worry.

"Would your family have tried to marry you to Jon if they knew who he is?"

She sighed, her family's tendency to sell her to whomever was convenient was a tiring thought. "Of course they would have. Just as they bade me marry to a deviant, an insane boy, and a child. If my father had survived Aegon's siege, I am certain that they would have sold me to Aegon as well."

"But you said..."

"That I was with Aegon for seven years, yes. I became his mistress in order to protect my family and to save my life. He besieged King's Landing and we surrendered, but the safety of our heads was not a guarantee. Garlan was being held prisoner in one of the wounded wards and I was a prisoner awaiting judgment. I decided to sway Aegon to my side, and it worked. Falling in love and remaining by his side happened slowly, and was a genuine surprise."

They fell into silence, staring at the fire.

"There are times I envy how short your life was," she whispered eventually, watching the flames dance and remembering the feeling of wildfire against her skin. She stood and walked to the window, suddenly feeling too hot.

"I was murdered by Roose Bolton," he hissed from his place beside the fire. "I had a sword shoved through my heart by my own bannerman while my mother watched. It happened because I married the wrong woman, because I sent Theon to his father. Sansa blames me for everything that happened to her. My father refuses to allow us to harm Lord Bolton, and we must host him for my marriage because he has not done anything wrong in this time. Is that something you envy?" He was half-shouting at her, his voice shaking with rage and pain.

She turned to him, careful to keep her expression neutral. She was to marry him, she did not want the beginning to be so bad. "I died by wildfire." She said the words simply, waiting a moment before she continued. "I watched men, women, and children die for years as food supplies ran low and the winter grew harsh. I saw the Others with my own eyes. Beings of ice who are painfully beautiful and deadly. I saw the dead rise and attack their loved ones. I saw people executed for eating their own children because there was no food. I wish that I had died earlier so that I never had a moment of those memories! Yes I pity you and what happened to your family. What happened was wrong and cruel and horrible. That you have to face Lord Bolton again is appalling. But we cannot change our pasts, we cannot hide from the ghosts which haunt our minds. We need this alliance. The North needs the men, supplies, and food which my family is providing."

She was shaking, crying. Her ability to smile through anything did not seem to pertain to her memories of King's Landing. He stood and walked to her. She could see that he was crying as well. He reached for her and held her hands in his.

"I know." He released her hands and leaned against the wall behind them. A moment later he started laughing. She raised a brow and just watched him, uncertain. He eventually stopped and looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. It just occurred to me that we were basically fighting over who had the worst death. I should be grateful that you are here and aren't judging me for anything that happened in the past. I should be grateful that you remember the past and will not think me insane, unlike any other woman."

She leaned against the wall as well, grinning. "Well, Princess Arianne Martell and Lady Asha Greyjoy both have their memories, as does Princess Daenerys, all of whom are eligible to marry. However, none of them could bring you the men or supplies which my family can provide."

He sighed heavily. "A good match, unlike a Frey would have been."

"Or the Westerling girl whom you married," she added quietly.

He closed his eyes, seeming far away, when he opened them he looked at her, tangibly sad. "Do you know anything of what became of her?"

"Only that she was returned to the Crag, otherwise too much was happening in King's Landing for me to keep track of the lesser nobles of the West. You loved her?"

He bowed his head slowly. "For as much as I understand love, yes. But now, after all this time... I barely remember her face, her voice, the taste of her lips." He closed his eyes again, breathing raggedly. "When we left Riverrun for the Twins, she said farewell to me thrice. Twice when we were at Riverrun and once later that day." He laughed, sadness tinging the sound. "She rode in the rain to see me. She begged me to allow her to ride to the Twins. I was so angry with her, but at the same time..."

"You loved her for it," Margaery finished quietly.

"I did, and I am glad that she was not see the horror of my murder, even though she had her own pains to face."

She agreed silently. She felt strangely relieved that they had both loved and lost. "Hopefully she will have a happier life this time around."

He bowed his head sadly. "Without me she should."

She felt an ache in her heart for him. She turned and placed a hand upon his arm. "Robb, you cannot blame yourself for everything. It will do no good. Believe in yourself. Believe in the future which we will create."

He held her hands again, and held her eyes with his own. "I may need you to teach me how."

He smiled, and she smiled back at him. "Maybe we can teach one another?"

"Will have the rest of our lives, it would seem. However long our lives may be."

She laughed. "If the gods allow, a very long time. If not, a much shorter time in which we may as well enjoy ourselves. Are you ready to show me more of Winterfell?"

"Let me put out the fire, and then I will be glad to show you more."

She agreed and waited for him to tend the fire. He pushed back the cushions and moved the logs deeper into the fireplace. He picked up a bucket which lay nearby and poured some of the water along the edge of the flames until they were down to glowing coals. When he seemed satisfied with the fire, they walked from the room arm in arm, with Greywind trailing behind them.

The rain was lighter when they stepped outside. As they walked, a direwolf and a slight figure with brown hair emerged from a ruined tower nearby.

"Arya," Robb called, stopping in the rain and looking at the child. "What are you doing?"

The girl and her wolf came closer. Her clothes were messy, stained in a variety of colors. Her hands seemed stained as well. She resembled her father, with a long solemn face and silver-grey eyes. She was pretty, and would likely grow in her looks as she grew older.

"I was spending time with Nymeria in the broken tower. There are too many people in the castle for her."

He raised a brow. "Or for you either I don't doubt. Lady Margaery I would like to introduce you to my sister, the Lady Arya."

The girl curtseyed politely, though her eyes seemed to be appraising her. Margaery curtsied to her as well. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya."

"It is nice to meet you as well, Lady Margaery," she replied.

"Come, let's get inside," Robb said, to which they all agreed.

Stopping in the rain made their clothing was wetter than when they had entered the First Keep, but it dried as they walked. Arya walked with them for some of the tour of the castle. Margaery had the distinct feeling that the girl was judging her silently. After having lived through wars, sieges, and attacks of the undead, a nine year old girl did not seem particularly frightful. Even the direwolves did not frighten her, they seemed quiet and calm, though she did not doubt that they could kill her in a moment.

The walk was exhausting, and they did not cover half the rooms of the castle. Eventually, after Arya left them to wander off on her own, Robb escorted Margaery to her rooms. The rooms were huge, and warm though there was no fire in the hearth. The tapestries on the walls depicted men and women going on a hunt, as well as animals resting in fields. There were fresh flowers upon the tables. The candles were tall and burning bright.

Her rooms were a suite. There was a main sitting room, her bed chamber, a bed chamber for two of her handmaids, a privy, and a small balcony. In truth, her rooms at Highgarden had been smaller. Her rooms in the Red Keep had varied in size, but were frequently larger than her current chambers.

She wondered if she would move to different rooms after she was wed or if this where she was meant to stay? Would Robb move to her chambers or maintain his own? Marriage... that too seemed strange. Robb was nice, she had decided. She liked his smile, his eyes, his voice. She found herself wondering what he looked like underneath his clothes. He seemed well muscled and strong, which would make his appearance appealing.

She entered her bed chamber and undressed. Her maids had already put some of her clothing into the wardrobes and chests in the room, at present they were in their bed chamber. She poured water from a pitcher into a basin and cleaned herself with the cloths which had been prepared for her. When she was finished, she scented her skin with mint, rose, and cloves. She then dressed in her chemise.

She called for her handmaids, Lea and Violet, to help her dress. Lea and Violet were two of the five girls who had accompanied Margaery from Highgarden as maids. All of them were a little older than her, and had been in her service for some years. They were all that Margaery would retain of her home, and all they would retain of their home was one another. For this was the way of the world, the highborn decided the fates of the low born. It was terribly unfair, but Margaery had never heard them complain.

They dressed her in a dark green gown with gold trim, it was similar to her travel dress but tighter and cut lower. There were roses sewn in silk at the hem, waist, and bust in a wide array of colors. Her maids combed her hair and wove it so that her hair would be intricately fashioned at the top but loose at the bottom. They clasped her jewelry and assisted her with her shoes. Hopefully she would make a good impression upon the family into which she was marrying.

When they were done, she asked them to bring Lady Brienne to her. Lea offered to be the one to find Brienne, and it was not terribly long before they arrived again. She dismissed the girls when Brienne arrived, asking them to get to know the other maids of the castle.

"How do you find Winterfell," Margaery asked her.

"I have not seen much beyond my rooms. Lord Stark seems to be a good man, as does Lord Robb. Did you enjoy your tour?"

She pressed her lips together, thoughtful. "I did. We spoke at great length about many things..." She paused, pouring water for herself from a pitcher which was on one of the tables in her sitting room. "His mother remembers," she told Brienne quietly.

The older girl's anguish was tangible. Margaery pitied the girl, she had seen much pain. "I do not wish to see her."

"But you will," she commanded, startling her companion. "You have no idea what she is like in this place, in this time, nor do I."

"The things she did..."

"You told me what she did. She killed a man who would have been executed by the next regime, a man who did wrongs against her family." Brienne began to protest, but Margaery cut her off. "Remain with me until my brother and Lord Stark go north, and then go with them. You were beyond the Wall before, you have an idea of what they will face. I do not ask for you to like or befriend the Starks, but we all need to work together for the future."

She hung her head, with a mixture of emotions flooding through her which Margaery could only attempt to guess. "I do not wish to attend the feast."

Margaery sighed. "I do not ask that you do it for me, I want you to do this for yourself. You need to face your past just as much as I do. Dress as you wish, speak to whomever you wish. From what I have learned, you may find these northerners more to your liking than southerners. Lord Stark has allowed both of his daughters to train with swords and the ladies of House Mormont are all trained as warriors. Speak with them, get to know them."

The girl forced a smile to her lips, though it was a feeble smile. "I will do my best."

Smiling genuinely at Brienne, Margaery assured her that her best would be enough. They spoke for a short while before Brienne left. Margaery then read for an hour or so until Garlan arrived to escort her to meet the rest of the Stark family.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has found, read, liked, commented, etc on this story. I am often overwhelmed by how much attention this has received.

I am sorry for the delay, there was a lot going on in my life this month. I also was originally going to do Sam now, or Arianne, but this chapter decided to be written first. I also decided that instead of making this 12k words that the next section of the welcome to Winterfell will just be a different POV.