Chapter Text
A squire came into his study. "Lady Olenna of House Tyrell is outside, seeking your audience, my King."
Ned put the quill down and leaned back onto his chair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Is a day without anyone wanting to see him too much to ask for? "Send her in."
The squire nodded and marched back outside.
An elderly woman entered and walked to the table and reached out her hand. Ned stood up and roughly kissed the wrinkly hand. Olenna wrinkled her nose at the lack of grace but she didn't say anything. Instead, they sat down.
"King Eddard, I heard your boy got married a few days ago. I'm saddened that I never got the invitation to the wedding."
He scoffed, probably inappropriate, "To make you feel any better, I did not receive an invitation either."
"Remember what you promised, King Eddard."
Fifteen years ago, at this very room, he promised Lady Olenna that his granddaughter, Margaery will be Queen one day. Logically, his eldest boy, Crown Prince Robb would wed Lady Margaery once they were at a mature age. That agreement caused so much grief within his family. His Queen wouldn't speak to him in the month the engagement was set in stone. Catelyn couldn't understand that they were at war and desperately needed the Tyrells to be their allies. In exchange for the alliance, Eddard agreed to the marriage.
He never hid the engagement from his son. Robb always knew he was promised to someone already and he accepted his fate, but he never expected to fall in love. After Margaery's eighteenth nameday, both houses planned the wedding to be in the upcoming Spring.
Two months before the flowers start blooming, the northern province was under attack by a large band of bandits. The young Crown Prince needed to join this expedition to prove his worthiness as the future ruler. The wedding was postponed.
Turned out, the bandits in the northern province were much organized and larger than they anticipated. Robb stayed there for two years. During his time in the northern province, he met a healer from Esso. He knew at that moment that he had to break a promise for once in his life. In a small town, with only his close friends as witnesses, he married Talisa Maegyr.
Ned was furious when he saw his heir standing in the middle of the court with his newlywed wife next to him. For 23 years, Robb had never disobeyed him. Oddly, in some ways, he felt proud that Robb deified his order and followed his heart. That day his boy became a man. Whoever this woman was, made his boy stronger.
"Lady Olenna, I apologized for what my son did but you know a marriage is sacred and can only be broken by death."
"A promise is sacred too." Olenna retorted back.
Ned sighed. He felt a bit of resentment toward Robb for putting him in this situation. "Yes, but Robb-"
"You promised that Margaery will become queen. She doesn't necessarily need to marry to your eldest to obtain that title."
In disbelief of what he just heard, he asked cautiously, "What are you saying?"
"Your Grace, you have four other children. Either one of them can be the future ruler. Hurry, Lord Tywin's grandson Joffery just turned nineteenth and looking for a wife."
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"Ned, have you lost your mind? Robb has been your heir since the day he was born!"
He told his wife what Lady Olenna suggested, and she snapped. She paced back and forth behind the seat that was previously occupied by the older woman, reminding him of fifteen years ago when he told her that he agreed to an engagement for Robb.
"I know that, Cat!" He slammed his fist hard against his desk but quickly regretted it.
Catelyn stopped pacing and slammed her hands onto his desk as well, hovering him with her small frame. "Just let her marries that bastard," she spat bitterly.
She knew they can't do that. The Lannisters had been gaining power after the death of his dear old friend, Robert Baratheon. If they lost the Tyrells, a powerful ally to the Lannister, House Stark would be left vulnerable.
He turned to his son, who hadn't spoken a word. "Robb, do you regret it?"
Robb stood up straight, looking right into his eyes. "No. Marrying Talisa was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't care if I have to step down from being your heir."
"Robb!" Catelyn hissed.
"Mother, my only regret is letting you and father down. I accept my consequences. I will renounce my position as the Crown Prince and return to be a loyal soldier." He could see the fire behind his boy's determined eyes. Robb meant every word he said.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself to make one of the biggest decisions he ever made that no doubt would change his family once more. "Very well. Robb, finish whatever duties you have left before your renunciation."
"Yes, Father." Sparing his mother one last guilty glance, Robb exited the room.
"That woman changed him." Catelyn finally spoke after the squeaky sound of Robb going downstair was heard.
"Aye, but for the better."
"He would've made a great King." She said with so much regret and disappointment. He knew how much effort Catelyn invested in Robb. Ever since Robb was born, she had been paving the road for her son. She made sure he's friendly with other houses' heir. She made sure he knows how to interact and negotiate with lords and ladies. She made sure he had all the traits of what a king needs. She wanted him to have a smoother road as King.
"I know. It doesn't matter now." Ned grabbed his wife's hand, wanting to comfort her, but Catelyn stepped away. She crossed her arms defensively.
"Then who will be your new heir, Ned? Rickon is just a babe. Bran is only twelve."
"Many boys are married at his age."
"No! You took Robb from me fifteen years ago. I won't let you take another boy from me!" Her eyes reddened with tears threatened to spill.
"What do you want me to do, Cat?" He huffed frustratingly.
"Please, Ned. Bran is a free spirit like Arya. Being your heir will crush him."
"Then Sansa?"
Marriage between two women is not uncommon but having a daughter to be the next to the throne is rare. Two centuries ago, the Gods blessed women to able to reproduce with one another without the help of men. This led to a surge of marriages between women.
"My first daughter, Ned?" Catelyn asked brokenly.
"Cat, you better choose. We both know Arya will jump off a tower before going through an engagement."
"May the Gods forgive me! Make Sansa your heir!"
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The news of his royal highness renounced his position as the Crown Prince spread faster than wildfire. Many rumors were made. Some liked to romanticize the story of Prince Robb sacrificed his throne for the woman he loved. Nonetheless, many were saddened by the announcement. Prince Robb was a good man. He could've been a great King.
A few days after the news of Prince Robb, Sansa Stark was named as the Crown Princess.
"Have you seen the Stark girl?"
"No. Sansa is just given a huge responsibility. I don't want to bother her."
"You better hurry. Her mother doesn't like us very much. She will turn her against us as soon as she can."
"Yes, grandmother."
The next day, grandmother arranged a carriage to bring her to the palace. She didn't expect behind the carriage, there were wagons of her belongings. Her grandmother didn't just want her to visit the palace. She wanted her to live in the palace.
Margaery felt lost. She lived in the palace before. In her early years, she spent weeks in the palace to bond with Robb. Once she turned eighteen, she stayed in the palace to prepare for the Spring wedding while Robb was away. She never expected the honorable Robb decided to ruin everything for love. His foolishness costed her.
Ever since she was five years old, she was raised to be Robb's wife, from learning his likes and dislikes to understanding the duties of a queen. Now she had to marry a girl that she knew nearly nothing about.
She met the Stark girl a few times but they never got the chance to talk aside from the polite greetings. She remembered a ten-year-old Sansa sitting across the table in the great hall. She had the famous Tully hair and the prettiest dress that Margaery had ever seen. Her eyes sparkled with hope and excitement while talking to her friend about fairytales. At that time, Margaery found the younger girl a bit dull so she turned her attention back to her intended.
The next time she visited the palace, Sansa was already gone to the west. Robert Baratheon and his wife Cersei Lannister fostered her for a few years. Cersei refused to let any of her children out of her sight so she sent Lord Robert's bastard son, Gendry to the Stark household instead. This act was scandalous and highly disrespectful to the royal family, especially to the princess. How could a princess be worth the same as a bastard? For the old friendship's sake, King Eddard didn't question the decision.
After Lord Robert's death, the princess was immediately sent back to the palace. Rumors from the palace staff said the princess changed drastically like she became a different person. She no longer sang songs about knights and fair maiden like she used. She became quiet and reserved. Everyone knew something happened after Lord Robert's death but no one dared to say it. Even King Eddard kept his mouth shut at the funeral when he watched his friend's widow looking uninterested and unbothered.
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Sansa stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like shit. It was Tyrion's fault. If only last night he didn't toss her a raggy shirt and a trouser that he probably stole from a soldier and dragged her out of the castle for a late drink at the tavern that newly hired a few foreign women from Esso.
The whole night she sat at the counter, watching Tyrion drinking into his oblivion and flirting with any woman that would give him a sheer of attention. For a while, a big drunk man sat next to her, sobbing into his large cup of ale, telling her about his horse was getting too old and he needed to end its life after getting his courage drink. Tuning out from her new companion's wailing, Sansa drank the sweet wine in front of her that the bartender kept refilling without saying a word.
She wondered if she would still able to come here with Tyrion in the future. She looked around, the drunk, unfiltered commoners, the hole on the rooftop that never fixed, the dirty tables and chairs that probably never clean. She would miss all of that. She kept drinking her sweet wine until her vision went completely black. The last thing she remembered was a couple of Kingsguards march into the tavern.
When she woke up, she was already in her bed with her head was pounding. The strong scent of the wine she spilled onto herself last night made her want to throw up. She ordered a hot bath, giving her servants time to change the stained sheet. Her relaxing bath came to an end very quickly when her servant informed her that Lady Margaery had left High Garden for Winterfell.
Her eye bags were showing, no matter how many times she powdered. The excess powder on her face made her look lifeless like the Night King from the stories her Septa told her as a child. She added a bit of pink powder to bring some color back to her face, salvaging whatever there was left. Washing her face and redo the makeup would take a much longer time, and she didn't have time. In less than a candle, her fiancée would be here.
A servant knocked on her door, reporting that they had spotted a carriage nearby. Sansa groaned and drank a cup of water, hoping it would magically stop the pounding in her head. It didn't. She quickly finished the final touch before following the servant down to the courtyard to meet her fiancée.
Outside, the sun shined brightly onto her lifeless face, deepened her misery. The beautiful Tyrell carriage entered the gate as Sansa self-consciously fixed her dark gray dress that her father insisted on her to wear for the family portrait. He wanted the whole family to wear dark gray leather clothing to make them look strong. Gods, she was strong. She stood at the same spot, not moving for many candles before the painter decided to call it for the day. The next day, she went back to do the same thing.
A servant rushed over to the carriage and opened the door. Another servant appeared at the side with his hand reaching out to support his mistress. Lady Margaery stepped out of the carriage, and Sansa wanted to vomit again. Whatever fragrance the other girl used did not release her from the immense pain inside her head. It worsened it.
Sansa took a deep breath to take back control of her body. She forced a tight smile, "My Lady."
"Your Highness," Margaery did a perfect curtsy. Unexcepted, the older girl reached out and grabbed her hands and smiled seductively, "Please call me Margaery since we'll be married soon."
In all her willpower, she managed to stop herself from pouring out all her stomach content. She always knew Margaery could be quite forward and affectionate sometimes but she wasn't ready for her fiancée to be forward and affectionate to her, especially now. "My- Margaery." If she wasn't feeling so miserable, she would've enjoyed how the name sound without the title. "Margaery," she repeated louder, hoping it sounded more enthusiastic.
"Yes, your Highness," Margaery smiled back playfully.
"Please call me Sansa. There's no need for the title between us."
"Yes," Her eyes glinted with mischief as she leaned forward against her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Sansa. I'm absolutely famished from the travel. Have you eaten anything yet?"
The strong scent of roses assaulted her nose into her sensitive stomach. She could feel the wine she drank last night rushing up. Quickly stepping back from the other girl, Sansa forced herself to spit out an excuse. "My apologies... I just remember I have something important to attend to. Please enjoy yourself in the dining room." Before Margaery could say anything, she had already bolted into a quiet hall.
She found a vase on display. Without much thinking, she poured all her stomach content into the hole. Hugging the vase, she slid down against the cool wall. She swore to herself that she would never go out drinking with Tyrion again.