"That's right," said Robb, shifting his hands up to squeeze against Margaery's shoulders. He wanted to sigh in dismay, to pull her in tightly again, but if she was going to face this, she needn't add worry for him into the mix.

"In the end, my love, just do what you can if you must," he continued instead, and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. "By the gods' grace, you'll need to draw the blade for nothing more than cutting your meat."

Time was ticking, he knew, and he swallowed roughly before spinning her carefully around to face him again. "Send a message each morning and evening, yeah?"