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Secrets Spill Faster Than Bottles Of Wine

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"Okay, okay," Margaery laughs, "I'm pretty sure I have the worst fucking mother-in-law out of all of us." Daenerys makes a noise of agreement and Talisa nods from where she's brading Daenerys' hair.

Ygritte rolls her eyes but Sansa squeezes Margaery's arm. "I know what you mean," Sansa says morosely, a bottle hanging loosely from her fingers, "God, Cersei was an absolute nightmare when I went out with Joff."

"It's almost like she wants to bone him," Talisa giggles, and both Margaery and Sansa reach out to slap her with twin looks of mock insult but Talisa dodges their uncoordinated hands. "Hey, at least Joff doesn't have enough hair to sow an entire mohair rug," Talisa shudders but she's grinning too. Sansa groans.

"Jesus don't remind me," she says, "Bath time was like something out of a fucking Stephen King novel when me and Robb were young." She shakes her head. "I swear there's still clumps of that shit in the drain at my old house."

All the girls groan simultaneously. Daenerys smiles a little slyly and pours some more drink into her glass, "I make Hizdahr shave," she shrugs, and a softer smile melts onto her face, "It gets itchy but the alternative is...worse."

They're all silent for a moment, and they all remember the fierce howling of the wind and horses galloping and quietness of Daenerys in the months following the accident. They all take a drink. Ygritte speaks up. She had always been uncomfortable with silence. "It's hard to believe Jon and Robb aren't related," she muses, "Since they've both got enough fucking hair to make several rugs between them."

Talisa raises her glass. "I'll drink to that," she says solemnly, but her face cracks into an easy smile a second later. 

"It's all happened so fast," Mrycella says, and she's the only one who isn't drinking, and her blonde hair is still as neat as it was when she first arrived. "I can't...I'm going to be a wife soon, you're going to be my sister Margaery, it's all so sudden."

Margaery quirks a wry smile. "Well," she says, "Lannister men aren't known for taking it slow." They all carefully don't mention Robert. 

"I think," Sansa says, her smile becoming sticky, "I think Ramsay is coming around to the idea of a winter wedding."

The temperature in the room drops as it always does when Ramsay is mentioned. It awkward because Ygritte is too brash to comment, Talisa feels guilty because she can't tell Robb about it, Mrycella doesn't quite understand and Danaerys understands too well. Margaery is the one who always ends up taking Sansa to her bed and smoothing out her hair and singing her old family lullabies. Margaery smiles now, sticky like Sansa's.

"Maybe you can be a snow princess," she says slowly, and Sansa cocks a skeptical eyebrow but Margaery stands, wobbling slightly, "No, no, I mean it! Think about it; the snow is falling, you're in a beautiful white dress--- that matches your eyes of course," Margaery pulls on Sansa's hand until she stands, "There's lanterns and carnations and a harpist playing in the corner. The perfect wedding." She twirls Sansa around the room and then slows, holding their hands between them. "The wedding you've dreamed of."

No one blurts out that in Sansa's perfect wedding, she isn't marrying Ramsay. But Sansa smiles anyway, and it's like a glacier cracking open. "Yeah," she says, absentmindedly sitting down, "Yeah, it is."

"Robb wants a red wedding," Talisa says dreamily, sipping on her drink, "He wants red flowers and red sashays and---"

"---Red napkins and red stockings and red fucking tuxedos," Daenerys finishes drolly, and when Talisa frowns at her she raises her hands in defence, "Me and Jon were talking! We have a bet going to see how much of your wedding he can make red. Winner takes Ghost."

Yrgitte frowns this time. "He wouldn't bet Ghost," she says, shaking her head.

Daenerys grins. "He's pretty sure he'll win. Gambling streak, that one. Keep an eye out."

Margaery rolls her eyes and pats her dress down. "Well, me and Joff want a purple wedding," she gets a disquieted look on her face, "That is, if Cersei doesn't fucking take over the show."

"Tyrion will probably pay for all of it," Sansa advises, nodding, "That's what he proposed to do for ours."

"'Cos he was your unofficial sugar daddy," Talisa says, and she laughs when Sansa reaches over to tug on her hair. "I mean, from what Shae's told me, he likes to buy things for his girls."

"I was never his girl," Sansa says, and a warm smile comes onto her face, "We were friends, I don't even know why he asked me out. I literally dated his fucking nephew. Pretty sure he went out with me to get back at Joff for something."

"I still don't know how you dated a forty six year old man," Daenerys shakes her head, "I mean, I haven't got much room to talk considering Ser Jorah but---"

"Why do you still call him Ser?" Ygritte asks, "I mean, he was stripped of his knighthood and all."

Daenerys shrugs. "Habit," she says, "And you don't even believe in knighthood, Ygritte."

Ygritte laughs a full bodied laugh. "Spend enough time in the wilderness with your fiance and things like knights become foreign mysteries," she says.

"I can't believe you did that," Sansa says, grinning, "I mean, when Jon left for that job and then he a message saying he'd met someone we were all shocked." She laughs. "We all thought him and Robb were going out so I was like shit, Robb, you okay?"

Ygritte's smile curves deeper. "How are you so sure Jon and Robb never went out?"

Sansa's mouth hangs open. "Oh my god," Talisa says, and Daenerys starts laughing, Margaery joining in a second later. "Oh my fucking god," Talisa repeats, and then she stabs a finger in Ygritte's direction. "I told you I knew something was up with them!" She falls back and laughs, shaking her head. "Why didn't you just tell me? I spent ages asking really not subtle questions trying to find out if I was right."

Ygritte shrugs. "It was Robb's secret to tell," she says simply, and then, "Robb also had this thing with Theon but that was just a fling."

Daenery's laughter increases in volume. "Didn't Theon go out with Ramsay?" Sansa asks, and Ygritte grins again. "My god, Ygritte. How do you know all this?"

"Threaten people enough with arrows and they'll tell you anything," she says, and laughs when Margaery punches her arm.

"Oh my god, the only shady shit I know is when Renly fucked Loras in my bedroom when they were sixteen because I was sleeping over at a friend's house," Margaery giggles and everyone else chokes on their laughter. "I came home early and they were there and I almost fucking cried because everyone was home and my walls are thin as."

Everyone took a moment to imagine that until Talisa bursts out laughing and breaks the dam. "Lucky we're discovering this shit now," Daenerys says, and she's wiping at her eye, "Imagine we're at our five year anniversaries and we suddenly find out our husbands fucked other members of our family and no one told us. Man I am so glad Viserys is dead." They all drink to that.

Mrycella grins shyly. "Trystane's sisters were teaching me a game last time I went over," she says, and Daenerys starts snorting.

"That's flattering," Ygritte says dryly, and Daenerys pushes her shoulder.

"Shut up man, it's just, when Varys took me and Tyrion to visit them yonks ago they made me play it too," she leans forward, "Is it that ridiculous slapping game?'

Mrycella nods and laughs. "Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what kind of a family I'm marrying into."

Sansa waves a hand. "The Martells are good people. The dad, and Oberyn even, they're both great guys." Her lips tense. "I can't say much for their sister. She's kinda," she makes spinny gestures with her fingers, "Batshit insane. I hear that she gets specially made lipstick that's poisonous."

Margaery rolls her eyes. "Don't believe everything you hear Sans, it's unbecoming." She winks. Sansa's lips curl in a smile. "Plus, you're scaring Mrycella."

Mrycella giggles. "I'm not scared," she protests, "But, I will stay away from her and her poisonous lipstick." 

"I'm so drunk," Daenerys groans suddenly, "I have never been so drunk."

"You've had, like, three glasses of wine," Margaery raises an eyebrow, "Tops. How are you this drunk?"

Daenerys flaps around on the couch. "She's a lightweight," Ygritte observes, but she's smiling and they're all smiling and yeah, maybe they'll be okay.