Margaery Tyrell (
tyrelltempest) wrote in
randomosity2016-06-12 09:41 pm
[For Hannibal] Alliance of Fire
Renly Baratheon was dead, leaving his claim to the throne empty and his wife Margaery Tyrell a widow. Roose Bolton, of course, could spy an opportunity a mile away. He sent a raven to Highgarden, to Lord Mace Tyrell. Roose proposed that his youngest son and only legitimate heir be married to Margaery. Mace agreed, rather quickly as well - likely out of fear for the Bolton name.
But of course, Olenna Tyrell wasn't about to let that agreement happen. At least not on any terms but her own. So the agreement was made, but a time for delivering her to Winterfell had not been determined, and Olenna was not about to agree to one.
Ramsay Snow, wanting to be useful to his father and acknowledged as a true Bolton, decided to take action on his own. He took a small band of Bolton men and rode to Highgarden - he knew Margaery was there, after her day-long marriage to the late King Joffrey had ended. He kidnapped the Tyrell heiress and rode back to Winterfell. When he arrived, he dragged Margaery in with no amount of mercy or delicacy. He found his half-brother and father in a sitting room going over charts and battle strategies. Margaery, clad in a light dress with a keyhole opening at the front showing her cleavage and wrapping around her lower back, showing off the curves of her back and the lean muscle beneath her skin. Her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps, her lips slightly dark and a light shade of blue. But all the fire and anger was in Margaery's eyes. She wrenched herself free of Ramsay's grip and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth.
"Unhand me, mongrel!" she hissed.
"Dear father, brother - see what I've brought? We'll not have the Tyrells welching on their agreement any longer," Ramsay grinned. "The flower is a little frosty, but only because she did not appreciate my generosity of allowing her to ride in the carriage."
"What I did not appreciate was a bastard snatching me from my ancestral home and dragging me with no proper clothes into the North," Margaery snapped.
She so badly wanted to shift towards the fire, but she was bound and determined to stand tall and tough. Ramsay obviously thought her weak, she would prove him wrong.
But of course, Olenna Tyrell wasn't about to let that agreement happen. At least not on any terms but her own. So the agreement was made, but a time for delivering her to Winterfell had not been determined, and Olenna was not about to agree to one.
Ramsay Snow, wanting to be useful to his father and acknowledged as a true Bolton, decided to take action on his own. He took a small band of Bolton men and rode to Highgarden - he knew Margaery was there, after her day-long marriage to the late King Joffrey had ended. He kidnapped the Tyrell heiress and rode back to Winterfell. When he arrived, he dragged Margaery in with no amount of mercy or delicacy. He found his half-brother and father in a sitting room going over charts and battle strategies. Margaery, clad in a light dress with a keyhole opening at the front showing her cleavage and wrapping around her lower back, showing off the curves of her back and the lean muscle beneath her skin. Her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps, her lips slightly dark and a light shade of blue. But all the fire and anger was in Margaery's eyes. She wrenched herself free of Ramsay's grip and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth.
"Unhand me, mongrel!" she hissed.
"Dear father, brother - see what I've brought? We'll not have the Tyrells welching on their agreement any longer," Ramsay grinned. "The flower is a little frosty, but only because she did not appreciate my generosity of allowing her to ride in the carriage."
"What I did not appreciate was a bastard snatching me from my ancestral home and dragging me with no proper clothes into the North," Margaery snapped.
She so badly wanted to shift towards the fire, but she was bound and determined to stand tall and tough. Ramsay obviously thought her weak, she would prove him wrong.

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"The animal," she replied. "Blood, violence, it has never bothered me very much."
She used to watch her brother fight in duels, which often resulted in him getting a broken nose or being hit hard somewhere that resulted in him losing a great deal of blood. It had never bothered her.
Again she turned away as the wolves ate the rabbit. She didn't want to watch. "I'm sorry...I feel so foolish," she whispered, brushing the snowflakes from her hair. How was she to prove that she was a proper huntress by behaving like this?
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He placed an arm across her shoulders as he turned her to face him. He tilted her chin up once again and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Not everything that appears innocent is My Lady. When it comes to animals such as that they are for the most part innocent. However, I have seen a few rabbits up here in the north that have attacked a full grown man. They bit him and he went mad. I know it is difficult to take a life. However, you must not be afraid to do so. You may never know when that innocent life is corrupted by something else and needs to be killed." He explained to her. "Those are decisions that every ruler must make." He said.
This had turned into a greater test than he had thought. She had not flinched, fainted, or cried out when he shattered multiple of his brothers' bones. She had strength within her. Likely she was not privy to matters of life and death very often. "Perhaps when we go to Highgarden you might ask your Grandmother of these things." He suggested. He knew Margaery was close to her Grandmother and respected her advice and council.
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"You're right, I know it," she sighed. "I just...I don't know. It wasn't how I expected. But then...I'm not certain what I expected either." Her mouth grew crooked as she looked up at him. "I am sorry...I'm being silly."
She turned up the collar of her fur cloak, growing suddenly cold. Margaery considered asking her grandmother as Hannibal suggested, but all she could hear was her grandmother berating the Boltons and telling her that she had no business hunting with a Bolton, husband or not. She could have ended up dead. But Margaery had no fear, not here with Hannibal.
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"Do you feel up for another rabbit? Bringing one back with a clean kill would indeed get under his skin." He said with a bit of light in his eyes.
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A rabbit was fine, but in all honesty she didn't want to kill another one. A pheasant would also do, but Ramsay hadn't been able to bring in a deer? Margaery wanted to bring in a deer, if not a bear.
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His men mentioned a few deer and some sort of large cat. He turned to Margaery. "Which would you like to pursue?" He asked her.
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"Do you have to ask? I should think it obvious," the idea of having a necklace made of a predator cat's teeth was of great interest to her.
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They immediately began to track the large cat. He looked at Margaery. "Do not hesitate with your first shot." He warned her.
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She notched another arrow as they tracked the cat. She nodded when he warned her and she kept as alert as possible. One of the guards pointed out a large track, they were getting closer.
Margaery tensed as she heard a low growl to the left. Her eyes moved but her body didn't. Slowly she moved and aimed at the brush to the left. All she saw amidst the brush was a pair of golden eyes. She didn't hesitate, Margaery loosed the arrow and hit between the cat's eyes.
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Hannibal could smell the cat and also had an arrow prepared as they moved. He saw Margaery move and listened as her arrow whistled through the air. There was a loud yowl when the cat was hit. The wolves bared their teeth and prepared to keep their masters safe from the cat. After a moment that sat down with their ears perked up and their tails wagging. Hannibal smiled proudly at her as he sent his guards to collect the dead creature. They left the arrow sticking out of the cats eye. "Well done, the eye is the perfect weak point in a predator to strike the brain and kill the animal." He said.
He ordered the guards to tie the dead creature down upon her horse. "It is your clean kill My Lady. I am the only living Bolton to have killed a large cat with a single shot." He said as he helped her back into the saddle. "We should return to Winterfell." He said.
He could feel the storm approaching.
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Margaery got into the saddle with Hannibal's help and smiled down to him. "All the same, it's a satisfying kill indeed." Her first real kill on a hunt, a large cat from the North. She felt strong, powerful.
But she nodded when he said they should return. "Yes, agreed. Quit while we're ahead, no?" She smiled. "I'm ready."
She was practically wiggling in excitement. She'd proven herself an able huntress.
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The wolves went straight to their kennel. Roose Bolton had heard the wolves and was curious what they had captured. He saw that the rose carried the trophy. Perhaps the thorns were more lethal than many assumed.
Hannibal gave a bow to his father. "You have picked a fine bride for me father. She is a natural huntress that is fearless." He said as genuine praise.
Roose gave a nod before looking at Margaery. "Well hit My Lady." He said flatly before turning to return indoors.
Hannibal dismounted and reached up to assist her out of the saddle as well. "That was high praise from him." He assured her.
Hannibal hoped hoped his brother was watching this. His men removed the body. "What would you like as a trophy from your prize My Lady?"
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Margaery tipped her head to acknowledge Roose's compliment. "Thank you my Lord, your son taught me well."
After a moment Ramsay sneered. "Hardly sporting, brother, putting your kill on the lady's horse!"
Margaery narrowed her eyes at Ramsay. "Difficult though it may be for you, I did indeed kill this beast on my first hunt. I couldn't very well return empty handed, now could I? What sort of hunter returns from a hunt with no prey?" Margaery smirked.
Ramsay pouted, and growled some curse before stomping off. Margaery smirked, pleased with herself as she moved to slide from the saddle with Hannibal's help. She thought on his question a moment. "The teeth and claws - and anything else you yourself deem useful, my Lord."
Margaery glanced to the cat, then to Hannibal. "Forgive me but...might we visit the crypts now? The Stark land was kind enough to give me good game, I should like to pay the previous residents proper thanks."
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Hannibal heard her request and bowed his head in agreement. He glanced up at the sky and noted the clouds forming above them. "We can indeed My Lady. We should not longer there for long. It looks like the storm will strike sooner than later." He noted.
He took a small leather pouch to tuck into his belt along with two small flasks of ale. He then offered his arm to lead her to the crypts.
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"Thank you for teaching me," she smiled up to him. "I'm very glad that I was able to take down such formidable prey, but I would not have been able to do so without your help."
The crypts were dark and dank, and Margaery very much felt like an intruder, as though all the eyes of the Kings of Winterfell were glaring at her.
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He picked up a torch at the entrance to the crypts. He led her slowly through the maze of the crypts. He took her to the most recent tomb and lit it up. "This was the sister of Ned Stark. She is the last Stark that was properly buried." He explained.
He bowed his head in respect to her stone likeness. "Soon those that have followed you will be where they belong." He said to the stone. He had sent agents out secretly to recover the bodies and store them at Harrenhal in a secret crypt he had set up while they were camped their earlier in the war. He assumed that Bran and Rickon Stark were still alive since he had not located their bodies. Nor had he found Aria Stark's body.
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After a few moments she released his arm and moved deeper into the caverns. Her dark eyes swept through the stone faces. Margaery pulled the fur cloak tighter about her as the caverns grew colder.
"Even in Highgarden we have nothing like this..." she whispered.
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He would remain close to her, there was nothing living down here. Even his wolves were wary of coming down here.
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Margaery felt cold and unsettled here. She looked up to Hannibal, rubbing her arms for warmth. "Shall we leave the deceased to rest in peace?"
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He could hear the air shifting beyond the caverns and noted a chill in the air. He hoped the storm wasn't too strong so that they could move into the castle safely.
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He could not see a clear path, but his men knew they were here. They would create a chain of bodies to guide the way to the main hall. It would take them a bit of time to do so carefully. He moved to sit her in a covered alcove near the main entrance. He produced one of the flasks. "Would you care for some ale My Lady? My men will have a path for us to follow soon. We will not be here for long." He promised her.
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This was one aspect of the North that she could live without.
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She heard the footsteps and tensed against Hannibal. In her logical mind, she knew it was just the guards coming for them. But deep inside she feared that it would be Ramsay's sneering face that broke through the wall of white. So she kept her face buried. Margaery wasn't aware, but she wrapped her fingers around his cloak and kept him close.
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