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As Willas walked her through the sept, Margaery supposed she should be grateful for this fourth wedding, grateful that the uncle of the second most powerful woman in the realm would consent to married the thrice-crowned queen, as she had heard the servants call her when they believed she could not hear. But instead, she felt only a vague sense of disappointment. The Sept at Riverrun was nowhere near as grand as the Sept at Highgarden, let alone the Sept of Baelor, her husband-to-be simply the Lord Paramount over muddy fields and slowly thawing rivers, rather than a presumptive King over Seven Kingdoms.
Still, Margaery could see the benefits of Edmure Tully over her previous husbands. “I’m not planning to kill this one, Margaery thought as she took the final steps towards the red-haired man, nor is he in love with my brother, nor still a child.” As the Septon began to recite the ritual Margaery had heard so many times before, she took in Edmure Tully’s face and thought, “No, I can make this marriage work.”
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As Margaery danced with one man after another, Edmure did little but drink. He supposed he should be glad for this wedding, arranged by the niece he could barely look at without remembering his sister. While he knew Sansa had something of her father in her, heard how she had not flinched when her husband took Littlefinger’s head, but whenever he talked to her, he heard only Cat. He supposed he should be grateful, that something of his sister remained, but she was so similar it hurt to look at her.
He supposed that was part of why he had agreed to this marriage. Both Catelyn and Sansa had spoken of duty, of continuing the Tully family and protecting the Riverlands. And while the Tyrells had no reason to betray them, nothing to gain and everything to lose, Edmure could not help but fear that everything would go wrong once more.
“Everything always does,” Edmure thought as he drained another goblet, “I defeat Tywin Lannister in the field, only to lose my seat to the Lannisters anyways. I get married, only to become a prisoner. I come to love my wife, only to lose her.” Lost in his thoughts, Edmure did not notice Sansa come to sit next to him.
“You should dance with your bride, uncle,” she said, bringing Edmure back to himself. “It will give you a chance to leave without the bedding. I think Lady Margaery would much appreciate that.” She smiled Cat’s smile, and Edmure could do nothing but offer her his hand, and guide her back to her husband, before approaching his wife.
“My lady, may I have this dance?” Edmure asked, with a smile, because for all that he had not wanted this wedding, he could not deny that Margaery was a beautiful woman. She merely nodded and his took his hand. As they danced, the other couples making way for the bride and groom, Edmure took in Margaery Tully’s face and thought, “No, I can make this marriage work.”
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When Margaery awoke the next morning, her husband was already gone. It was Sansa who guided Margaery to where her husband sat, watching his daughter. The girl, with her brown hair and eyes, supposedly was the image of her mother, but never having known her Margaery could not say for sure. “My lord,” Margery said softly as she approached her husband, “I hope I am not disturbing you?”
“Not at all, my lady,” Edmure said as he turned to her, a smile on his face. “I hope I did not offend you be leaving so early this morning. I simply wished to check on Cat.”
“I understand, my lord,” Margaery said as she looked at the small girl. “How is she taking all the excitement?”
“Well,” he said as the small girl began to stir. As soon as she opened her eyes, she giggled and hugged her father.
“Papa!” the young girl said, “I had the best dream last night! I…” It was then the girl noticed Margaery, and her smile died. “Oh, Lady Margaery.”
Margaery smiled a small smile, still unsure about how to interact with her husband’s daughter. “Please, Catelyn, just call me Margaery. What was your dream?”
“Oh, well, it was my own wedding! It was big and grand and everything was beautiful!”
Edmure just laughed and picked up his daughter, “Of course it was! Only the best for my little Cat!” He twirled her around, then put her down on the ground. “How why don’t you get dressed and go and get something to eat. After all, what’s a wedding without a grand feast? Me and Lady Margaery will see you in the great hall.”
The girl only nodded and walked over to her wardrobe, while Edmure offered Margaery his arm, which she took as they walked out of the room.
“You may also call me Margaery, my lord. We are wed now.”
“If I am to call you Margaery, you must call me Edmure.”
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Edmure was besides himself with worry. He had lost one wife in childbirth, and now he feared he would lose another. Maester Vyman had told him repeatedly that Margaery was perfectly healthy, that he need not fear, he could not help himself. That is what that damned Lannister Maester said, but Roslin was still lost.
Now, 9 months after their wedding, just as with Roslin, Edmure’s wife was in labor and he was not allowed in the room. Last time, it had been because the guards had taken him away to make any possible execution easier, while now it had been because the Maester said his worry was distressing his wife. He would be allowed in once the child was born, and no sooner. His only company was Cat.
“Is Margaery going to be okay, Papa?” Cat asked, her small face betraying the same fears that Edmure felt but couldn’t voice. “She isn’t going to die like Mama did, is she?”
Edmure knelt down to be on his daughter’s level, looking into the eyes that so resembled her mother’s, and smiled. “I’m sure she’s going to be fine, sweetling. And soon you’ll have a brother or sister to play with. Aren’t you excited?”
Before Cat could respond, the sounds coming out of the room where Margaery lay came to a sudden stop. Edmure felt his heart sink into his stomach, wrapping Cat into a giant hug, preparing to comfort her, for the child had come to love Margaery as a mother, when he heard the child start to cry and sounds of a conversation, in tones he could not make out. As he held Cat in his arms, he couldn’t help but remember Roslin, how tired and drained she looked, how she was just barely able to hand the child to Edmure, how she could only weakly smile and say, “I’m glad you shall be able to live to look after our daughter, my lord,” before closing her eyes.
Edmure was brought out of his thoughts by his daughter, who was attempting to wriggle out of his hold. “Papa! Papa! Margery is calling for you! I want to go meet my new sibling!” And it was just as Cat said, with Edmure looking up to see the Maester at the open door, waiting expectantly.
Edmure bounded into the room, placing Cat on the floor by the bed where Margaery lay, holding the babe, tired but undoubtably alive. She held the child out to Edmure with a smile and said, “Edmure Tully, I would like you to meet your son.”
“Ed. Call me Ed.”
“If I am to call you Ed, you must call me Marg,” his wife said as he held his son in his arms for the first time.
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Margaery sat on the banks, minding the twins while Ed and Cat were in the river, teaching Hoster how to swim in the early Summer light. Cat, as usual, was swimming circles around her younger brother, whose Tully red curls kept getting in his eyes. “It’s no use!” the young boy pouted, “I’m never going to learn to swim.”
Ed simply laughed and swam lazily towards his son, grabbing him as he tried to get out of the water. “Hoster Tully, you will learn to swim, it just takes time. No Lord Tully has ever not swam, and my son shall not be the first.”
“I don’t know Papa,” Cat said with a laugh, “I think Hoster might take after Margaery’s rose more than your trout.”
Ed simply splashed his daughter and said, “I seem to remember a certain little girl who refused to even take baths because she was so scared of the water who seems perfectly capable of swimming now.”
Cat’s only response was to stick her tongue out at her father and get out of the water. She lay down on the ground by Margaery, Loras, and Lysa, and was immediately jumped on by the twins.
“You were scared of the water?” asked Loras.
“You refused to take baths?” asked Lysa.
Margaery laughed. “She certainly was. It wasn’t until your father promised her lemoncakes that she would go anywhere near the water. Isn’t that true Ed?”
“Indeed it was. Now what should I promise you, little boy? Perhaps some archery lessons?”
“Really Papa?” Hoster asked excitedly, “Do you mean it? I thought Momma said I couldn’t start until my next nameday.”
Before Marg could react, Edmure laughed and said, “If there’s two things any future Lord Tully should know, it’s swimming and archery. I’m sure I’ll think of some way to convince your mother.”
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Edmure sat at his seat in the Great Hall, watching Marg talk with the young Targaryen Prince and his daughter, who seemed quite taken by Rhaegar Targaryen. He always loved to see her at work, charming people with her considerable graces. She shot him a smile from across the room as she left the two teenagers and walked back to where he sat, pausing briefly to check on Lysa and Alerie.
“I do believe you may get a raven from King’s Landing soon, husband,” Marg said as she sat to his left.
Edmure raised his eyebrow, “Indeed? On what subject, wife?”
Marg leaned in conspiratorially, “Well, it seems to me that the young prince is quite taken with your daughter. And as the Queen and King seem to spoil their Prince so much, it would not surprise me if they let him marry exactly who he wants to.”
Edmure watched as the prince kissed Cat on the hand, then went to join the other young men in the room, his companions Mace Tyrell, who according to Margaery looked just like his father Garlan at that age, and Eddard Arryn, who had his father’s dimples and his mother’s red hair. Hoster and Loras were listening raptly to their tales, with Lord Commander Duckfield sitting nearby and laughing at the young men’s tales.
Cat was walking as calmly as she could, but Edmure could tell she was excited about something. She sat to Edmure’s right, occupying the seat that had earlier been Prince Rhaegar’s. “Oh papa, he’s just so wonderful. Please say you’ll accept his betrothal when asks.”
Before Edmure could react, Marg laughed. “Don’t worry dear. I’ve made sure to teach you everything any future Queen should know. I’m sure I’ll think of some way to convince your father.”
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Many, many years later, standing next to her children as Hoster fired an arrow at a barge on the river, Marg thought back on her years with Edmure Tully. They had raised 5 wonderful children, even if one was not hers. Cat was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Hoster was now the Lord of Riverrun. Loras had joined the Kingsguard, the best way to ensure his brother accepted his refusal to marry, while Lysa had married Eddard Arryn and Alerie was married to the heir of Casterly Rock.
Marg remembered her hesitance to wed again, how Edmure had won her over with how he treated Cat, with how he worried over her while she was pregnant. She remembered long swims and arguments that often ended with new children being produced. She remembered how he had cared for his smallfolk through harsh winters, how he grew frustrated with Brackens and Blackwoods and Mallisters and Pipers and how he would always let her suggest solutions. But most of all Margaery Tully remembered how much she had loved her husband, and how they had made their marriage work.