randomosity | [For Hannibal] Alliance of Fire

Margaery did her best not to flinch when Hannibal approached. In a way, this was not unlike how she had felt when she had been betrothed to Jeffrey. Fearful, timid. But she simply looked up to Hannibal with wide eyes. Margaery paused for a long moment, taking in his features. He was handsome, certainly, but he could not be as generous and kind as he seemed.

He was a Bolton, after all.

Still, she pulled the cloak tighter around her and mumbled her thanks. She bowed her head to Roose Bolton but paid no mind to the bastard Ramsay. Margaery followed Hannibal and took in the interior of the castle, once the proud seat of House Stark. This wasn't right. She knew little of the North but she knew that a Stark always had to be in Winterfell.

Margaery took in the sights of her bed chamber and was a little relieved to learn that she could lock the door. She glanced to Hannibal and got right to the point, now that they were alone.

"You're to be my husband then?" She tilted her head, keeping her tone light. "Tell me truthfully, then: Was Ramsay sent to kidnap me, or was it truly all his idea?"

Hannibal was indeed a Bolton. However, he still had the capability of tenderness unlike his father.

He noted how her glances were to play a part she created in her mind to play. However, acting too much like prey would indeed turn her into prey for his brother.

He noted her quick change to being direct once they were alone. "My brother is constantly trying to prove himself my better and worthy of being called a Bolton. Kidnapping you was entirely his foolhardy plan. I was preparing to ride south to set terms with your grandmother and then my father following after terms were set and we had picked a date. My brother will be punished. If he makes another attempt at you he will be put down like the rabid dog he acts." He answered her truthfully.

Roose did have an intention of forcing the Tyrell's into following through with their agreement. However, not in this manner.

Margaery pursed her lips and nodded slowly at his words. Ramsay was a desperate man, that much was obvious. Hannibal seemed to be telling the truth, but she took his words with a grain of salt. Margaery stepped into her chamber, running her fingers along the stone walls.

It was strangely warm; she remembered that Sansa had once told her that Winterfell had been built over hot springs, which heated the castle even in winter. It seemed laughable then, but now it seemed true enough.

"Was it difficult, taking this place?" She spoke softly. "Theon Greyjoy had been in possession of this castle, had he not? Ironborn are not so easily dispatched."

As much as it sickened her having any House besides Stark in Winterfell, Margaery had to admit that defeating the Prince of Pyke would have been an admiration accomplishment.

Still, every word was brought from fear. She didn't want to marry, not in the North, nor to a Bolton in Highgarden. Not when she'd heard tales of northern customs. Her grandmother had assured her that she would not allow such customs to come to pass for her.

Just as she had not allowed Margaery to stay wed to Joffrey Baratheon for longer than a few hours.

Hannibal chuckled at her question. "Iron born are only dangerous in he water. They are as vicious as fish out of water upon land. Theon knew the castle well enough, but his men didn't respect him as a true iron born leader." He said as he watched her explore her room.

The Bolton's did not hold true to many of the oldest customs of the North. They were far more similar to the southern houses than those of the North.

His tone became more serious, "I will caution you not to wander the castle alone. My brother will be sulking and you wounded his pride. Antagonizing him when you are alone would be foolish." He said as warning.

"Even fish out of water can be poisonous," she advised. "Or can cut through to the bone with scales and sharp spines."

Margaery looked up from a small bookshelf when his tone darkened. She blinked a few times, then smiled softly with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I think if I had the choice of being alone with the mongrel or dropped alone north of the Wall, I would much prefer to take my chances with the latter."

Margaery again turned a disappointed glance to the bookshelf. It was a lonely piece of furniture. But it did make her think. "I should like to see the crypts, where the Stark ancestors are buried, to pay my respects. Sansa Stark was a good friend of mine, you see. Do you think that might be arranged?"

A hostage making entertainment demands. Margaery was not used to being some place not of her own free will when she could not leave at her leisure. But she would not give into her fear amongst the rabid dogs and flaying men.

Hannibal saw how she looked at the bookshelf and made a mental note of it. He showed mild amusement at her answer. "I think I would pick the same. I feel I have a better chance against the white walkers than my own brother when he is enraged." He said. He could easily kill his brother, but he did have a slight hesitation about doing so. One that would not exist if he attacked either himself or Margaery. Her returning marred would start a war.

He thought of her request. "It is quite cold there. You will need more than just my dues to go there. I can have a servant fetch some warmer clothes for you. Did you want to go now? Or wait until tomorrow?" He asked. She was a hostage, but part of her lodgings were for her safety. They would not prevent her from running. They would easily be able to find her.

Margaery gave a soft chuckle. She readily agreed. Margaery had heard rumors that a son had been born before Hannibal and after Ramsay; that the bastard had poisoned the babe and left himself the sole male heirs, even if he wasn't legitimate. Now having met the mongrel, Margaery could see that happening, easily.

She held her question for later.

"I am not pressed to go right now, I can wait," Margaery nodded slowly. "Whatever is most convenient."

Margaery ran her fingers along the bed and suddenly realized the gravity of her situation. She was set to marry a Bolton, here she was in a Bolton house. At any time, she likely could expect to be taken hard by one of them. That scared her; even with Renly Margaery had never known a man's touch before. She knew how to please a man from observing Loras and Renly when they thought she wasn't looking, and from what her grandmother had instructed her to do.

Margaery could play the indulged sex kitten well; but deep down she was the doe, gentle and soft.

She was correct that their was another sibling that did not survive to become full grown. He gave a nod of his head at her answer. "I am to look after you and to entertain you as preparations are made and carriages are loaded. It is not inconvenient of you to ask to look around the grounds. This will be our home soon, it would be good for you to learn it well." He said.

He had done his research on both her and her family. House Bolton was well aware of Renly's preference for Loras rather than Margaery. Her marriage with Joffrey was not even long enough to have given him even a taste of her body. Hannibal suspected that she was still a maid and put on the show of knowing what to do. He watched as she ran her fingers along her bed and saw the hesitation. There was an honest glimpse of her true thoughts, but he would store that knowledge for himself alone.

"It is the finest bed in the castle. There is even a special heating pad to be placed beneath the bed to keep it warm during the night. These rooms offer the most natural warmth in the entire castle. There are no windows for cold or snow to leak in and the heat from the lower levels drifts up here as well. There will be additional blankets if you feel you might need them." He said with a tone of warmth in his voice.

Margaery gave a perceptive smile and tilted her head to the side. "You mean you're to monitor me to make sure I play nicely and make no attempt to escape," she pointed out, teasingly but with no less sincerity. "All things considered there are kidnapees who have done much worse, so please don't think me ungrateful with my teasing."

She smiled as he described the room. Yes, there were no windows for cold or snow to leak in; but nor could the sunlight nor warmth of summer slip in either. However, he had said that there were no restrictions on going outside, so she was grateful.

"Your brother, did I truly wound and anger him with my words?" she tilted a brow, curious.

This was only a temporary arrangement. After thy were wed, his father would return to the Bolton estate and he would live here with his wife. His brother would not be able to exact revenge after their wedding, Hannibal would see to that.

At the question, Hannibal gave her the slightest hints of a smirk. "He is angered by me breathing and you being betrothed to me. You not cowering before him continued to role him up. Poking at his lack of title or future of title is one of the things that sets him into a frenzied rage. Your words wounded his pride, a dangerous thing to do to a creature with no sense of right, wrong, or natural boundaries." He said. As he spoke his tone turned more grave.

Margaery couldn't help but laugh. "Then gods help him should he ever come across my grandmother."

She knew Olenna would never allow Ramsay Snow to step foot inside Highgarden ever again. So that comforted her. Again, her fingers ran over the soft furs that covered the bed. Dire wolf pelts - she wondered with a sick feeling in her stomach if these were the dire wolves once kept as pets by the Starks. She prayed not.

"I'm curious...if he hates you so, and since he has no remorse in killing it would seem," Margaery looked to Hannibal with a curious expression. "Why hasn't he killed you?"

Could it be that he was stronger, and more fierce than Ramsay? If so, Margaery was fearful that she had a problem.

Hannibal continued to observe her to see how she reacted to her environment. He found her continued interest in the furs. "That is dire wolf fur. I train them when they are pups. These are what remains of the ones who fell while trying to protect me. They are very loyal creatures. Perhaps you could meet them before we head south." He offered.

At her other question he gave a slight smirk. "I have always been quite clever. My brother is easy to read and I have always managed to stay one step ahead of him every time he has tried to kill me." He answered with pride.

Margaery was rather relieved to know that the peeks hadn't come from something sinister. Of course, that was only if she took Hannibal at his word. Which she was inclined to do, he seemed sincere enough. There was a certain irony to it, however. "Taking the Stark home and sigil, a little insulting, don't you think?" It was a tease, and she smiled almost playfully as she looked to him.

So he was smarter than Ramsay, though that wasn't saying much, in Margaery's eyes. But that made him resourceful at least, she could appreciate that.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to teach me his tells, and how to get under his skin further? Surely as his brother you would know all about that," she chuckled. But if she truly was to stay here, she would need to know when Ramsay was up to something.

Hannibal gave a nod, "Dire wolves make a far better companion than the sigil of my house." He answered back with a lighter tone.

Hannibal was also equally ruthless when the time called for it. She should not fully underestimate what he could do to a man if he had a mind to do so.

He gave the softest of chuckles at her second request. "It would be difficult to get much further under his skin." He began. "However, if he is acting remarkably smug you should be cautious." He said.

Margaery laughed at that. A hand came to her mouth in a delicate gesture. She smiled to Hannibal and twirled a lock of her soft brunette hair around her finger. "At least your sigil is one that inspires fear, as sigils were intended. Unlike mine, it depicts us as weak, delicate flowers."

She had always hated the golden rose. Olenna had always hated the golden rose.

But Margaery noted the warning and nodded slowly in understanding. "I mean not to be rude, my lord, but it has been a long day indeed, might I have some privacy so that I may rest?"

Hannibal found the fact that she was not fond of her own sigil to be interesting. "Soon enough your sigil will change and you can be respected and feared rather than stared and smelled at." He said.

Hannibal gave a short bow of his head. "Indeed, there is a bell should you need anything or desire some company. After your brief rest, I can arrange for a bath to be brought to your room if you would like to wash yourself off after such a long journey." He offered. He was slowly backing towards the door.

She pursed her lips. Margaery had rather enjoyed being a Baratheon; the stage was a noble sigil and one that commanded respect in a way that wasn't so obvious as a lion or dire wolf. But the flayed man? She would prefer something more noble.

But she wouldn't be so foolish as to vocalize that; outnumbered by Boltons as she was.

The offer of a bath did make her smile. Margaery wondered if they had any scented oils here in the North, or if simply being clean was considered enough. "A bath would indeed be divine, thank you. The servants might also then take my gown for measurements, to make adjustments to the more climate-friendly gowns you offered?"

Margaery allowed herself a laugh and even blushed a bit. "Though I fear I will indeed look foolish. I'm not certain I would know how to move in wool and furs." She was used to silk and satin, ribbons and fine jewels or nothing at all. Finery, and luxury that the North usually scoffed at. She would look silly, and likely be mocked upon attending dinner.

As it was, she hadn't liked the look she'd received from the kennel master's daughter upon her arrival.

Hannibal gave her a hint of a smile as he gave another bow. "After you have rested everything will be prepared for your bath. I will introduce to you the serving women whom you can trust."

His eyes looked her over for a long moment before he shook his head in disagreement. "I do not think you would look foolish. Moving about in such clothing is not so difficult as the finer fabrics from the south. The largest difference is the weight." He offered. "Rest well my Lady." He said before shutting the door behind him.

He paused on the other side of the door and shook his head at himself. She was indeed quite fair. However, the additional praise of her looks was unnecessary on his part. He would remain standing just on the other side of the door until he heard her lock the door.

Margaery smiled a bit brighter and bigger, why did his praise and compliments make her so happy? "You're kind to say so, thank you."

Once he shut the door, Margaery moved to lock the door. She removed her necklace and tucked it beneath the bed, hoping to keep something of value hidden in case someone came thieving while she slept despite the locked door.

It was a good long while that she slept, but it was still light out when she woke again. Margaery moved to unlock the door and opened it carefully. She didn't feel brave enough to venture out, but at the very least if someone were watching, they'd know she was awake.

Margaery just prayed it wasn't Ramsay.

Hannibal made multiple preparations for Margaery's bath. The golden tub was in his room and ready to be moved into her chamber once she awoke. He had a variety of oils that he had checked for poisons in his chambers that he was keeping an eye upon. He would have one of the maids test the water to be certain his brother did not try something himself or through his whore from the kennels.

Hannibal remained in his chambers while she slept. He had been reading for a time. After finishing his book, he had stripped down to his pants. Even his feet were bare. He began to do some sport exercises. When Margaery opened the door, she would see his bare back as he drank water. There was very little sweat, but she could easily see the muscle that covered his frame.

Margaery paused when she opened the door and saw Hannibal's muscular frame. Jeffrey, being a boy, had never been terribly muscular; even Renly had been more slender of frame than anything. She could obviously see the muscles beneath his skin and the healthy glow he exuded. Her mouth watered a bit.

Had he planned this? Was he trying to seduce her prior to the wedding to force her into it? Two could play that game; she wasn't about to be swayed so easily.

"Pardon, my lord. I did not mean to interrupt," Margaery looked away and even blushed a light pink. Her dark eyes flashed up though, as though she were peeking at some forbidden act or treasure. Why not let him think the plan was working, if it had indeed been planned?

It had not been Hannibal's plan. He had thought he would hear her ring the bell rather than just open the door. He turned to face her as he reached down to put his tunic back on. There was mild frustration in his eyes as he saw the blush on her cheeks. He was not fooled by her game.

"You should have rang the bell before opening the door. It is a good thing I remained here instead of pertaining to business with my father. There will come a time when you are safe from my brother. Until that day you should be more mindful of your actions." He was re-dressing himself as he spoke to her.

He smoothed back his hair once he was fully clothed again and motioned towards the gowns hanging nearby. "These were my mothers. I picked a few that have a similar style to what you are accustomed to. The innermost later is silk. Do these please you?" He asked.

He ignored her game for the moment. He would watch to see if she would continue that game as their time together progressed.

Her blush faded as he scolded her. Margaery brought her hand down and her body shifted back a bit. She listened, her eyes locked with his and not turned down in submission as he spoke. When he finished she closed her eyes and bowed her head a little.

"You are right. Please forgive my foolishness, I shall try to take better care in the future," which hopefully would not be long.

When he mentioned the gowns, Margaery stepped forward and examined them. She turned through a few and found one with a bodice of leather inlaid with fine stitching, even if the design was the Bolton crest. "They're lovely. Northern fashion is not given proper credit."

She lifted the gown and tilted her head, examining it further. Lovingly she laid it down upon Hannibal's bed and moved to untie her own dress. It was a thin gown, so it fell away and pooled at her feet with minimal movement, leaving her bare before him - it was another move in her game; she pretended to ignore him, yet made sure her breasts were kept hidden from his view so that he only saw the slender curve of her lower back, her pristine shoulders and round ass. Margaery a stepped into the heavier gown to try it on.

Only when it was secure did she turn to face Hannibal again. "It's not much different in size as I had imagined. Heavy indeed though, it will take time to get used to it."

She looked up with a playful smile. "Does it suit me, my lord?"

Hannibal watched as she dropped the game at his scolding. He watched as she took the gown to his bed. His dark eyes did indeed take in her fair skin and body. However, he removed the pure lust that stirred within him from his eyes.

He stepped forward to inspect her in his mothers dress. "It seems a bit tight around your bust." He noted as he moved behind her to examine the fit of the dress. He leaned in to speak lowly into her ear. "Careful with the games you play here. You may get more than you bargained for." He said with a slight rumble in his voice.

He took a few steps away from her before motioning to the books on a nearby table. "I have collected from my father's library. I can place any that interest you in your chamber of that would please you."

Margaery glanced down when he commented how it fit her bust. Her fingers ran along the collar and bust line. It was a bit tight, and pressed her breasts together and made them swell a bit over the gown. But when he whispered so close to her ear, Margaery had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. The heat of his breath and the rumble of his voice...oh, this was going to be a challenge.

But she reminded herself that he was a Bolton, probably used to taking what he wanted, just like his father. She glanced over her shoulder to him. "I enjoy a challenge."

She played the game of thrones well enough at King's Landing. But she wondered if her skills were enough for the North.

Margaery moved to the books rather stiffly, not used to the heavy gown. She lacked a great deal of her grace and sensual movements. But with Ramsay lurking about, she was probably better off.

She found books of poetry and history, and promptly set them aside. "Your father will not mind me keeping these for a bit?" She found a book of maps and North folklore that she would probably find useful. "These seem awfully important."

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