Margaery Tyrell

[ If there is one thing Robb is good at it, it is most definitely not social maneuvering. He’s probably more personable then in his father in some ways. He’s young, fairly handsome, and he’s inherited some of his temperament from his mother. On the other hand, he’s still a northerner, born and bred and struggling to get out from under his father’s shadow, and he maintains the typically dour face that northerners present when they’re at court or dealing with people they find disagreeable. He also tends to be a bit blunt, even if he is well-spoken.

Certainly no diplomat.

For all that, he has a good heart and he believes I justice and right and wrong. Then again, some would call that a disadvantage. A liability in a court and a world where loyalty can sometimes be bought. He shakes his head in answer to her statement, brow furrowing as he nurses another sip from his cup of wine. ]

I probably would be. But that’s not how I intend to rule. Winter is coming and you cannot let people starve. Especially not the people who rely on you for protection and who we rely on for food.

[ Among other things. The lords cannot exist without the smallfolk, just as the smallfolk look to their lords and kings for protection and justice. ]

…you know, this is the first wedding I’ve been to, I think. At least as an adult.

[ For some reason he finds that darkly amusing. ]