[ The last few days have been a bit of a blur for Robb as well. Despite arguments with several people (including his mother), he'd stuck to his decision. Thankfully, there had been those among his council who believed it was actually a good idea. Most of them were less thrilled with the idea of him trying to take the Iron Throne for himself and he'd promised to... reconsider that particular aspect, although he wasn't sure how he was going to really avoid that. Maybe he could make someone king in all but name and leave them in charge and hope that it would work itself out.
Or not.
Regardless, after the decision was made things had moved surprisingly quickly. There wasn't going to be an elaborate wedding feast or ceremony; this was going to be small. Muted. It seemed somehow inappropriate to throw a gigantic party when the city was still recovering and resources could be better spent elsewhere. There would still be a feast, but it would be relatively small; northerners and Tyrell bannermen, family, and members of his inner council. And his direwolf, of course.
The day of, Robb went through the motions. He was going to have a wife. Not a Frey, but a Tyrell - a beautiful woman, even if she'd been married twice already. Was she going to sink her claws into him? Was this some sort of ploy to simply make him vulnerable? He wasn't sure. Didn't know. All he could do was try to trust that it would work out and keep himself guarded. At least until he knew where Margaery truly stood.
In a bit of contrast, Robb looks slightly out place, even if he does manage to look like king, complete with the simple crown that was fashioned for him ages ago (or seemed like it) when he'd first been called King in the North. And now he's being married in the godswood in the Red Keep. He takes a deep breath and doesn't allow himself to betray his own nervousness. Not here, not when he's surrounded by his own sworn bannermen and his 'king's guard' - loyal companions who have followed him since the beginning. Certainly nothing as formal as the true Kingsguard.
As she approaches he extends a hand a steps forward. ]
My lady.
[ He inclines his head, feeling as if he's a puppet on strings. ]
Welcome. You look... radiant. As ever.
[ He's trying to make this go as smoothly as possible. What's going to come next is a simple exchange of vows, a witnessing before the old gods, and the exchange of cloaks. It should go off easily enough. Right? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2016-10-10 04:54 am (UTC)Or not.
Regardless, after the decision was made things had moved surprisingly quickly. There wasn't going to be an elaborate wedding feast or ceremony; this was going to be small. Muted. It seemed somehow inappropriate to throw a gigantic party when the city was still recovering and resources could be better spent elsewhere. There would still be a feast, but it would be relatively small; northerners and Tyrell bannermen, family, and members of his inner council. And his direwolf, of course.
The day of, Robb went through the motions. He was going to have a wife. Not a Frey, but a Tyrell - a beautiful woman, even if she'd been married twice already. Was she going to sink her claws into him? Was this some sort of ploy to simply make him vulnerable? He wasn't sure. Didn't know. All he could do was try to trust that it would work out and keep himself guarded. At least until he knew where Margaery truly stood.
In a bit of contrast, Robb looks slightly out place, even if he does manage to look like king, complete with the simple crown that was fashioned for him ages ago (or seemed like it) when he'd first been called King in the North. And now he's being married in the godswood in the Red Keep. He takes a deep breath and doesn't allow himself to betray his own nervousness. Not here, not when he's surrounded by his own sworn bannermen and his 'king's guard' - loyal companions who have followed him since the beginning. Certainly nothing as formal as the true Kingsguard.
As she approaches he extends a hand a steps forward. ]
My lady.
[ He inclines his head, feeling as if he's a puppet on strings. ]
Welcome. You look... radiant. As ever.
[ He's trying to make this go as smoothly as possible. What's going to come next is a simple exchange of vows, a witnessing before the old gods, and the exchange of cloaks. It should go off easily enough. Right? ]