33 Proper

Two weeks, that's how long it took for him to take Sarsfield. The defenders had fought valiantly and even with spotting a number of weaknesses to exploit, eventually the sheer difference in numbers gave Robb the advantage. Even so, it had not been easy.

Leaning his neck to one side, he ignored the sweet smell of Margaery Tyrell that filled his nose as she wiped away the blood from a shallow cut with a wet cloth. He had received a number of worried looks from his personal guards and the noblemen at his camp when the siege had been won. Many believing the young King would die.

He hadn't and wasn't going to, it was nothing more than a shallow cut, no deeper than a paper cut.

Though Robb had expected to receive far worse wounds, the fact that while not as bad some his previous ones, the vital area in which the strike was located was a cause for concern for him and many others. Nonetheless, Robb put it out of his mind and instead focused on other matters, mainly ignoring the soft brushes of Margaery's hand against his skin.

When he had agreed to take on Margaery Tyrell as one of his physicians, he had done so knowing full well she intended to seduce him. But he had accepted because she was highborn Lady and because he believed that due to knowing her intentions, he could resist quite easily.

However, that was proving to be a far more difficult task.

She was beautiful, perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. And despite being sixteen like himself, Margaery had a very well-developed figure something which her dresses and gowns never failed to hide but instead drew attention to it. He was just thankful that when serving as his physician in simple matters like this that she instead wore more, conservative clothing.

Even so, it did little to hide her natural beauty.

'Gods spare me.' He muttered, Grey Wind looking to him, the connection the two shared further strengthened by his recent delving into the Direwolf's mind allowing the beast to sense Robb's distress. Upon seeing that was nothing wrong Grey Wind huffed and lowered himself back down onto his paws, no doubt going to sleep.

Thankfully to Robb, someone up above seemingly took pity on him as the door opened and in stepped Lord Piper clutching a letter in his hand. He paused a moment, taking note of the discomfort on the Young Wolfs face and stifled a smile unsuccessfully.

"Your grace, my lady." He greeted the two, amusement radiating from the Lord and Robb shot the man an irate look. "A letter has arrived, from Ser Brynden." He moved forwards, handing the letter to Robb who took it with one hand, removing Margaery's hand from his face with his other.

Opening the letter, Robb read the contents a number of emotions flickered across his face, going from triumphant, to confusion, to irritation and then finally, to anger.

"Have my personal guard prepare themselves to move out at first light. You will remain here while I return to Riverrun, I want you to redistribute the soldiers of the Reach. The Crag is still holding out and I want it secured by the time I return." Lord Marq Piper bowed and then left the room.

"Good news, your grace?" Margaery asked, once again coming forwards to tend to a few of his other minor wounds. The wound on his neck had been cleaned thoroughly, but she needed to change the bandages around his side where a sword had cut into his waist. It was deeper than the wound on his neck, but far less severe and worrying.

"Aye, the war will soon be coming to an end." Margaery paused from where she had just removed the slightly bloody bandage. The was not a pretty sight and she hadn't expected to ever have to do something like this, but it was proving to be the only way to actually get close to the Young Wolf.

However, it was not due to the wound that she paused.

"Truly? So soon?"

Robb nodded his head, Margaery once again getting back to work in replacing the bandages with a new one. "Well, there's still a few more battles to come, but if things go to plan, the war should end in a few months' time."

"Then you will have won. What do you plan to do after that?"

"Find my father and sisters." It was a quick answer, one that Margaery had expected.

"Then you can be sure that House Tyrell will do their best to help you. My father and brother, Willas are already searching the Reach as we speak for any sign of your father and sisters." Margaery dutifully informed.

"I shall have to thank them for that." Robb muttered. "Have you received word on when the Reach army will be arriving?"

"No, your grace. Lord Randall Tarly has been extremely careful in ensuring the main army has not been seen. But I promise you that they will be here to aid you, your grace." Robb chuckled.

"I do not doubt your words, my lady. If you say they are coming then I am sure they are."

"Margaery." Robb looked to her questioningly. "Please call me Margaery, your grace."

"I hardly believe that would be proper, my lady."