sixthiterationlogs | Gather Ye Roses

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Gather Ye Roses

WHO: Margaery
WHERE: #4 Bungalow, Woods, the police station
WHEN: 4/3 - 4/4
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Nothing, but will update if needed
STATUS: OPEN

The Woods

The mornings were much the same as ever. With winter slowly coming to a close, it meant that many of the plants and flowers would bloom again, allowing Margaery to gather with the same fervency and delight as before. While her walk through the woods had been to collect kindling and winter fruit, she made a point to stop by many of her favored places to inspect how the plants were faring. Were there buds yet? How far along were they?

It wasn't uncommon to hear noises in the woods. There were others more often about now, many hunters or villagers exploring. When she heard a twig snap behind her, Margaery expected to see a familiar face. Instead, a deer slowly walked from the underbrush, sniffing the ground and listening for potential predators. Margaery rooted herself, hardly daring to move or breathe.

She could sense someone nearing behind her. Taking the risk, she raised her hand, signalling for them to stop. "I have never seen a doe this close before." She whispered.

The Police Station (Outside)

The usual sounds of animals protesting filled the air as Margaery opened the station doors to allow her animals out, her dog Gilbert herding them towards the fields where they could graze. There was still no large pen for her to let them roam about in, much to her chagrin. However, this was better. Gilbert had become diligent in keeping the animals in check, ushering back a sheep that strayed too far or yapping at a cow that lingered too long in the grass. It was pleasant, comforting.

She watched from a reasonable distance, scanning the fields for wolves or any other predators. She counted her animals in her head, tallying the amount she saw ever half hour. Many of the sheep were growing fat, a few pregnant with lambs. She would need to find a place for them all soon.

As someone passed her, Margaery tore her eyes away for a moment to smile at the nearby figure. "It is finally becoming warm again!" She announced happily. "We can begin planting again and think more about what we wish to do with the animals."

#4 Bungalow - Closed to Ned

It was common routine for Margaery to work on her weaving once her animals had finished grazing until the sun could no longer provide her proper light. The cold weather no longer hindered her from sitting on her porch, listening to the sounds of the world around her. She had fond memories of spinning during the summer, now she could weave during the spring. There were birds in the distance, optimistic for the coming warmth. Gilbert was at her feet, worn out from his work and napping as she lightly sang "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

It was only when she came to the chorus that she noticed Lord Stark nearing her home. They had walked together earlier in the morning, having explored the woods and simply spoken about what he needed to learn. Once they returned to the village, they had parted ways and she had left to let her animals graze. She hadn't paid much mind to what the Starks might be doing, but she assumed they'd be together. Not that it wasn't pleasant to find one Stark or another turning up at her door.

She paused in her work, rubbing her hands on her skirts. "Back so soon?"

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You had to be early or lucky to claim one of the bows from the collective cache at the inn for the day. That day, Robb had been both, heading out well before the sun was more than the faintest wash of color on the horizon. He'd thought perhaps that luck had been ill used, considering the paltry results he'd had hunting that day, but then... there it was.

Killing a doe was a bit of bad form, but gods, it could feed them all for a week or more. Arrow nocked, he'd drawn back, creeping as softly as he could, and then—

The held breath sighed softly from him as he lowered the bow with a faint creak of the string.

"I would have thought they followed you everywhere you go," he quietly replied, and slipped one of his precious few arrows back into his makeshift quiver.

She was the bane of any hunter, preferring the beauty of the creatures in the wood rather than the meat they provided. As much as she enjoyed going to bed with a full belly, the tranquility and peace these animals brought her were too precious to ignore.

Her smile was quick to spread at the good natured teasing. The doe seemed to smell the berries in Margaery's basket. Taking a handful, she spread them on the ground before stepping back towards Robb's side. Her eyes still fixed on the doe that happily lapped at the berries she had left behind.

A moment more. Gods, one more moment of this and it would be worth all of the difficulty and uncertainty.

"That would make my animals jealous. I cannot have a sulky cow." Her nose wrinkled. "My porch is overcrowded presently with an abundance of Starks."

"We do seem to be multiplying," Robb remarked as he tracked Margaery's movements from the pile of berries to his side. Months it had been since they'd last spoken; it had seemed easiest that way, less likely to crack open the wound. That she was pleasant didn't surprise him; she wasn't a woman who let a silly thing like awkwardness or distaste get in the way of playing her part. She'd apparently even won over Jon in the end.

The polite thing to do was to ask after her health, but it seemed presumptive and somehow callous; they were far beyond politeness, the two of them.

"I see you still insist on going wherever you will alone," he continued instead, the words wry, not a rebuke -- It wasn't his place to chastise her any longer, never mind that it had always seemed rather a rather pointless endeavor to try.

Months without speaking, yet seeing each other about the village. She guarded herself, returning to what she knew and how she protected herself from the uncontrollable, her heart among them. Despite what she might feel, she would never harbor ill feelings towards him, just as she knew he would not do the same. He was a good man at heart, honorable and kind. He wouldn't treat her poorly.

She smiled genuinely, finding her footing despite the awkwardness. "I am a foolish woman, incapable of learning." Somehow, it wasn't difficult to find levity in the situation. "I often walk with others during this time of day, but none were able to this morning."

Feeling a measure of bravery, she looked towards him slowly. "We could walk together for a time? If you are not occupied otherwise?" She nodded towards his bow.

Edited 2017-04-11 06:41 (UTC)

For a moment's worth of hesitation, Robb debated the wisdom of accepting her offer. He hadn't any illusions about them falling together again whilst alone, but their connection couldn't help but be strained. It wasn't an unreasonable offer, but he did wonder what good it might actually do.

But then again, his hunting was apparently doomed to go poorly, so what else had he to do? There was little excuse to be found for a graceful exit; he might as well do his part in mending bridges, if he might.

"All right," he allowed at length with a slow nod, and motioned Margaery on.

"Your livestock seems to be doing well," he added once they'd started -- Not a witty rejoinder, but at least a neutral one.

She could see the hesitation in him and knew what was running through her head. It should have occurred to her, but with her mood so bright, she had little qualms about who she was with. So long as he didn't wish to avoid her, she would welcome his company as she did his family.

Margaery looked back once more at the doe, which paused in its meal to meet her eyes. Is it blessing me? Or does it find me as intriguing? The weather was warm enough that she didn't need to keep her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Adjusting the basket on her arm, Margaery walked on, casting a few glances towards Robb.

She smiled gently, "They are, but you don't need to force small talk, Robb. You don't have to stay." There was a look of tenderness in her eyes, not simply for Robb but also for her surroundings. The day was nice enough. "I am glad to see you. I had wondered how you were, now that your family has come to the village."

Mouth open to argue, Robb hesitated and then sighed. "I was merely looking for a place to start," he admitted. He couldn't quite tell if it was sympathy he was seeing in the softness of her eyes, but he supposed he deserved the feeling of guilt it prompted regardless.

"Busy," he allowed. "I've been busy." Not that this was anything at all new. "Tending even a small household is rather more work than I had imagined it."

He'd not trade a one of them for anything, but even with Jon's help, keeping everyone sufficiently fed was a full time job, particularly with so few weapons at hand.

Her eyes remained locked on the trail ahead, well worn from the numerous visits the villagers had made to the woods. "Formalities don't really have a place in this world." She offered. "They mattered so much in Westeros, but they only feel empty and hollow here."

She wanted to speak more about it, to confess to him the questions in her mind, but it wasn't her place and this wasn't the time. In truth, she had missed her friend and the wise words he offered her, even if they ran contrary to all she wished to do.

She braved a glance towards him, "It isn't work you have to do alone." Knowing Robb, he likely was taking it all upon himself, along with the feelings of obligation, honor and whatever serious thoughts the Starks conjured in their minds. "Do you remember we spoke once of second chances? It seems you found yours."

"It seems I have," Robb agreed, his gaze dropping briefly to the worn earth beneath their feet, scattered with last season's pine needles. "But you are correct, I don't have to do it alone. Jon helps with the hunting and the girls tend the house, although I doubt very much this was what Sansa had in mind when she imagined running a household."

There was no bitterness to his tone; they were all of them lucky to be together, lucky to be free from the relentless politics that had splintered their family to begin with. But it was rather a significant change for all of them, particularly himself and Sansa.

"I expect my father will insist on doing his part, as well," he added as he glanced back up. "Although it seems to me he's more than earned a rest. I think he's met at least half the village by now."

"I imagine Sansa prefers having her family rather than the trappings of wealth and finery." She mused, her mind trailing back to the world they had shared in King's Landing. "She sits with me on occasion and seems happy, as does Arya." She paused for a moment, stooping to collect a few flowers that had managed to survive the cold. Their petals were brittle but she could press them and make something beautiful of them.

She wiped her hands on her skirts and got to her feet once more, leading Robb towards the village. The path was well worn, but even without it, she would know the way. "He has been eager to be of use, so I have been instructing him in how to care for my animals, as well as tending our crops. With my cow ready to birth, I have been in need of assistance."

Shifting her basket in her hands, she looked over towards him once more. "Are you happy, Robb?"

Knowing Margaery as well as he did, Robb understood that this was not simply a polite question, for all that it was framed as one. Happiness was a complex emotion for them both, and often difficult to reconcile these days.

"Happy enough," he answered at length, and resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't blame her at all for asking; he simply found a substantial answer difficult to parse. "Which I suppose is all anyone can really ask for, isn't it? I have my father, my sisters, my brother... Simply seeing them again is a blessing." Even if that blessing also carried a great deal of guilt.

"And you? Are you really happy tending to your sheep and roses?"

It wasn't an emotion that either of them knew well, as they had taken on the weight and burden of caring for their family. All she needed was to look on Robb's face and see the same fatigue that she possessed. It was easier to worry for him than to consider what she was doing to herself.

"Happy enough," she echoed in a soft voice. "It fills my days and gives me something to occupy my mind with." Her hand tightened around her basket as she drifted along the path, fighting the emotions that no longer wished to be concealed. "Seeing your family grow, it reminds me how...well, there is little point in dwelling on it."

She sighed, glancing up towards the canopy of the forest. "Perhaps it is better to give happiness to others? I don't know anymore what would make me happy or what it is that I desire. I only know that I prefer seeing your family thrive and smile than think about what it is I want."

AS he listened to Margaery speak, Robb could not help but find his own truth lurking within her words; he hadn't any idea of what might make him truly happy now, either, but thought perhaps that wasn't the point. Once, he could have answered with such strong surety, but now he couldn't begin to fathom what honest, unfettered happiness might be shaped like.

"Perhaps contentment is enough," he allowed. "I suppose there must be some satisfaction in not worrying overmuch about seeking happiness. Isn't there some saying about it being elusive that way?" He gave his head a slight shake. "I don't know. We are not typical people, you and I."

She knew him well enough to know that he would understand her meaning. The colors of the forest had dulled, giving way to the grim reality she had known all of her life. As beautiful as spring could be, it was fleeting, as was happiness. "Contentment, I suppose that is easier to find. So what would make you content now?" She tried to smile once more, seeking some measure of levity to brighten their moods, though it seemed forced now. They were far too honest with each other.

"You cannot say your family. You already have them. There must be something more that would make you content."

Margaery nodded. Even her brother was not the same sort of person as she was. "No, though what a thing to share." Her gaze didn't waver from his face. "Will you allow me a personal question?"

What a thing indeed. Even after all of this time and hearing so many different stories from others, Robb found it difficult to completely shake the idea that this place was some sort of afterlife. Surely not a heaven, but perhaps a holding place, somewhere to prove one's worth. Yet of people who remembered the moment of their death, he knew of only three: His father, Margaery and himself.

Not that this was something one went about advertising.

"I can be content with this," he allowed. "A doe lost but perhaps a friendship mended."

He arched his eyebrows. "I'd say we've already ventured past personal, wouldn't you?"

It wasn't a baseless assumption. The strange occurrences of this world lent credence to the idea that this place was something beyond death. Though, it was hard for her to fully embrace the thought, the gods were dead to her. Perhaps as well, she didn't wish to imagine that many of the kind and good people she met here would be forced to share such a fate.

She may belong in a world such as this, but Robb and his family did not.

His words brought a genuine smile to her face. "A friendship that is very dear to me." He was right though, they had passed personal some time ago. "Do you still hold onto the belief that you must measure up to your father? You were so hard on yourself, chasing after an ideal that was near perfection. I truly hope that you have reconciled with that."

That her comments were well-meant was obvious enough, but Robb couldn't quite help the way he stared back at her in astonishment and then stopped in mid-stride, hunching forward with breathless, resigned laughter. Oh that it were so easy.

"Margaery," he managed, holding one beseeching palm forward, hoping she understood he was not laughing at her. "I appreciate the thought, genuinely, but had you grown up a son of Eddard Stark, you might take a slightly different view on how easily one could reconcile themselves to his ideal."

That was a "no" then. She nodded, crossing her arms as though she had been struck by a cold wind. It was the answer she expected, truth be told. It was no simple matter to move past self imposed expectations, though she had hoped that Lord Eddard's presence would help alleviate that guilt. One look at Robb should have served as a better answer than the actual response.

"I don't expect it to be easy, Robb. If it were, you would have reconciled with it long ago. I merely hoped that seeing your father again would have helped." There was a side of her that could be idealistic. "I suppose it must have made things more difficult."

"Don't be cross with me," Robb pleaded, his smile chagrined as he composed himself, his eyes soft as he looked back to her. "It's impossible for you to understand. I was laughing at myself, not your idealism. I swear it."

Her arms were crossed, an invisible wall fallen abruptly between them at his misstep, and without thinking he reached out, calloused fingers squeezing imploringly against Margaery's closest forearm. He ducked a bit to better catch her eye.

"Don't be cross with me," he repeated. "You're right, of course. It simply isn't an easy thing."

She flinched at the feel of his hand against her arm. The gesture was more familiar than they had been with each other in some time. Despite her hesitation and fear, she let her arms fall away from her chest. Gently, she linked their hands, clasping his between her equally calloused fingers. "I'm not cross with you, Robb."

It was said softly, her gazed locked on him. Instinct told her to smile and return to a certain level of levity and flirtation, but it wasn't appropriate and she wanted to be honest with Robb. As hard as it was, he was one of the few (if only person) in the village who had seen her true self. She wasn't certain she even know who that was, but Robb had a better idea than she did. As difficult as it was, she would temporarily lower her walls.

"I wasn't cross with you. I was thinking of the expectations we place on ourselves. We seem to be the greatest obstacle to actual happiness or ease." With others or with themselves. "I'm sorry. I know that I'm only saying things that you already know. I do understand though what it is you are carrying."

Edited 2017-05-11 01:17 (UTC)

The image of Margaery's hands clasped over his own gave Robb pause, his eyes fixed on the image, his throat gone dry. His brow pinched as he wrestled with himself, the feeling of her fingers warm and temptingly familiar.

"Don't apologize," he said at length, and looked up to her eyes again. "You're a good woman, Margaery." Doubtless better than he ever deserved. "I know you only mean well. I oughtn't have laughed, it's only..."

He trailed off, finally extracting his hand from hers to push his fingers restlessly through his hair as his gaze skipped off to the trees. "It's the alternative to weeping, I suppose," he quietly admitted.

She overstepped herself perhaps, the gesture was familiar and she couldn't decide whether it was wise or not to push too much on him. When he extracted his hands, she took a half step back and lowered her gaze once more. They had stopped along the path, the sound of the wind in the trees was the only disruption to their conversation.

He called her good, but she didn't believe herself to be as good as others claimed. She was realistic. If she were truly good, she wouldn't have chosen to wed the Lannisters or placed her ambitions above justice. The compliment was at least kind and coaxed a sad smile from her. "As are you." A far better person than she was. His motives had at least been pure. "A better man than you give yourself credit for."

She set her basket on the ground, unconcerned with any animals that might steal her harvest. They were safe and alone in this spot and she didn't want to leave yet, not when they spoke on something deep and difficult. "Do you weep?" It was a personal question, but as he pointed out, they were well beyond it now. "Robb, you are a good man." She said it before, but it bore repeating. "You were a good king who made a mistake, as all kings do. What happened was not your doing and you are not to blame for what happened to your men. It was the treachery and unconscionable actions of three men that didn't think of the consequences."

And there were consequences, each paid a price. "Near a year and you still punish yourself. There is nothing to be gained from it, only a continual torture that will prevent you from finding happiness and, gods, that is something I want desperately for you." Even if she couldn't give it to him personally. "You are not and never were to blame. I refuse to let you think it anymore. If I must come to your house and follow you while you hunt, shouting it at you, I will." Now she was the one to laugh, letting it take the place of deeper emotions.

"I truly do know that guilt of believing you are the cause for your family's demise. I bear it as well. You are not alone in this, even if you feel you are. I will always be willing to shoulder your burden, if you let me."

Edited 2017-05-11 04:29 (UTC)

For so long, Robb had believed himself a good man. An honorable man. Never the man his father had been, but a man who could live within his shadow and continue his legacy, a man worthy of sharing the same name.

He was a Stark, and that had meant something. It hadn't been until much later, well after his father had died and Robb had put the North and his own house on the road to ruin that it had truly occurred to him that he might have what it meant to be a Stark all wrong.

He squeezed his eyes closed, listening to the sudden rush of his pulse in his own ears until he could no longer bear the images his mind wanted to conjure behind his eyelids. Once, his sorrow and regret had fueled an implacable, irrational anger, but now, it was simply exhausting. With his father here, some days it felt too great a weight to bear. That Margaery wanted to help him carry it was an overwhelming relief, even if the mere idea of it came with its own measure of guilt.

"My mother—" he began, and then stopped, his face going pinched as his throat tried to close. "I watched. I saw." He looked back to Margaery, blue eyes magnified by unshed tears. "How can I tell him?"

Theirs was a world where House came before anything else. The name they carried held weight, but it seemed the Starks carried theirs to a degree that it nearly crushed them. She had seen Robb and Jon, both stoic and grim, but merely assumed it was because all they suffered. Now in knowing Ned, it was clear that the Stark men bore the burden of honor and guilt, wearing it as though it were a cloak of the North. Even the strongest man would break beneath that weight and she had no desire to see Robb fall.

His mother. There had been talk in King's Landing of what had happened to Catelyn Tully. Lady Brienne said nothing, but Joffery was all too happy to crow about it. The image was difficult to stomach, even second hand. It wasn't hard to imagine how Ned would take the news. She could understand Robb's hesitation to inflict that sorrow. It certainly wouldn't help ease his guilt.

"I could speak to him about what happened?" She offered in a soft voice. He wouldn't be told the entire story, not the gruesome details that Joffery was all too willing to share, especially in front of Sansa. But he could at least know what happened to both Robb and Catelyn, gently and over time. "It wouldn't be wise to tell him everything at once, but I could do that for you?"

Never would Robb have ever considered suggesting such a thing, and the offer seemed so overwhelmingly generous, so beyond what he might have expected anyone to do for him that he could not find his voice to reply. It was not a burden he ought to have allowed Margaery to take upon herself, he understood that clearly. But the sheer, unfettered relief the idea brought was near enough to topple him over had he less of a hold on himself.

Margaery had the benefit of distance, and a canny hand at politesse. Could it be possible that such a thing might be better heard from her, instead of a son so broken that he could scarcely utter the words aloud?

Wordless, face pinched, he nodded, and allowing himself to move without thinking, pulled Margaery into a tight, grateful embrace.

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thekittenqueen - 2017-05-13 02:37 (UTC) - Expand

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