Prologue

Jorah felt a sense of relief when he heard that Robert Baratheon was dead. He had grown very fond of the young Khaleesi he had been spying upon. She was with child now, a son had been predicted. Jorah hoped it would bring her joy; the world seemed a brighter place when she was happy and smiling.

He sped his horse up to ride alongside her horse Silver. Khal Drogo and his bloodriders had left to go on raids in the area. He knew she did not like it, but this was the way of life. He bowed his head in respect to her. "Khaleesi, I'm certain he will return soon."

Daenerys gave a nod to Jorah when he approached. "Thank you Ser Jorah. As always, your optimism is appreciated."

Jorah gave another bow of his head. "As always I am at your service Khaleesi."

Daenerys gave a nod of her head to dismiss him as she continued to ride forward.

Chapter 1

Roose Bolton waited in his chair for his youngest son to arrive as summoned. He was not surprised that his impatient bastard had gone South and done something reckless. He hoped that his legitimate son, Hannibal, could turn this into the golden opportunity he saw with this alliance. A servant girl was waiting to collect the leeches from his body as he completed his daily ritual of cleansing his blood. Just as the last leech was taken away, he heard the confident steps of Hannibal approaching.

"Your brother will be returning in a few hours. It is your responsibility to make the young lady feel comfortable, safe, and to win her trust. I have arranged for her to be wed to you, regardless of the Queen of Thorns' opinion. It has taken me a great deal of time to arrange this marriage, I will not let your bastard brother ruin this deal. She will likely be nervous and wary. You are to win her over so that she pushes her grandmother into agreeing to the wedding so that it happens as we desire." He said to his son.

Hannibal gave a nod of his head in understanding. "Yes, father." He waited for a full five minutes in silence. "Is there anything further you desire of me?"

Roose shook his head. Hannibal gave a bow to his father before turning to walk through the halls of Winterfell. He had to begin making preparations to ensure that his betrothed would be safe from his bastard half-brother.

Hannibal felt the memories of this place coming back to him as he wandered these familiar halls. His father had sent him to live as a ward with the Starks after surviving for two weeks in the forests around The Dreadfort at the age of two. He had stayed with the Starks until he was twelve. He had been taught how to fight and survive by Ned Stark. He remembered roaming these halls with Robb Stark just before he returned to the Dreadfort. He knew exactly where he would keep his betrothed in order to keep her safe from Ramsay.

He climbed one of the tallest towers and opened the door. There was a large chamber with a fireplace tucked in the corner. At the back of the chamber was a tall, wooden door. He strode through the door and spotted the smaller chamber within that also contained a fireplace. This is where she would sleep. There were no windows, and Ramsay would have to get past him to harm her. He gave a whistle and servants came in; he ordered fresh linens, a bathtub, and for hot water to be prepared in the bath as soon as Ramsay entered Winterfell. The servants bowed and set to work preparing the two chambers immediately.

Hannibal left the chambers and walked along the wall of the keep. He looked out to see if he could spot the caravan of Bolton men who went with Ramsay on this unauthorized raid in the South. He briefly wondered what Ramsay was up to. His bastard half-brother had been exceptionally crafty throughout their lives, this was an unexpected play…and Hannibal did not like it in the least. Hannibal's skills with the sword were what kept him safe from a direct attack once he returned to the Dreadfort at the age of twelve. He learned quickly that he should always be prepared for an attack of some sort. Ramsay was an expert at psychological warfare. Unfortunately for him, Hannibal was far better at it. Ramsay had resorted to poisons and a variety of grotesque displays to try to break Hannibal and find a way to win Roose's approval. Ramsay had yet to succeed in either killing or breaking Hannibal. As he stared out across the snow, Hannibal wondered just what condition the fair Rose of Highgarden would be in upon her arrival.

...

Ramsay chuckled when he spotted Winterfell in the distance. It had been an absolute thrill kidnapping the feisty Rose from her own bed. She might be a bit frosty, even in the carriage, but he had given her a few options to help keep her warm. It was a disappointment that she seemed insistent to decline all of his offers. He thought being pissed upon was a perfectly acceptable alternative to freezing in the carriage. He gave a whistle to his men to speed up the pace. He wanted to be back inside the keep before dark. He was eager to show off his success to his father...and his dear brother.

Chapter 2

Hannibal could see the snow stirring up in the distance and moved away from the wall. He did not want to give Ramsay the satisfaction of seeing him prior to his arrival in the great hall at the heart of Winterfell. He had his personal guard of loyal men on standby in case his brother had anything else planned upon his arrival.

He returned to the great hall and nodded to his father. "They will be here within the hour. All arrangements have been made to ensure the lady will be quite safe." He said.

Roose nodded, "Very well. We need to keep her healthy and unspoiled. Hopefully her grandmother will not send the Tyrell army after her. I set up this arrangement to make us stronger, not to put us in danger of open war from stupidity." He said with irritation.

Hannibal gave a nod as he shifted to stand next to his father and await the arrival of his betrothed and bastard brother.

Ramsay noted that everything seemed to be running as normal upon his arrival. Not a single thing seemed to be out of place. He was curious if they would be accepting of his actions after all. He slid off of his horse and went to the carriage that contained the feisty Southern Rose.

"Welcome to your new home sister! I do hope that it is all right if I am eager to begin calling you sister." He said with a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

"This will never be my home. And I certainly will never be your sister." Margaery snapped with ferocity in her eyes.

Ramsay tsked softly in disappointment, "Now, now...that is quite rude. My poor brother will be sorely disappointed, but perhaps you are more interested in me than him after such a long journey together." He smirked as his eyes roamed over her body greedily.

Margaery glared at him with every ounce of hate in her body. "If you dare try anything, I will show you just how dangerous a rose's thorns are."

Ramsay didn't seem the least bit worried. He gave a whistle and two of his men came forward to wrestle her out of the carriage for him. He then took a firm hold of her upper arm, fully intending to leave her bruised, and led her inside the great hall.

Despite her scornful words Margaery did not struggle much, rather eager to get indoors and out of the cold. She was wearing a light dress of pale yellow that was hardly thick enough to provide any amount of warmth. There was a keyhole opening over her bosom, which proved useful when trying to distract a weak-willed man - but provided no refuge from the cold Northern air. Margaery's skin was chilled from the long ride in the carriage and her lips were tinged with blue. Still, there was fire and anger in her eyes as she was led into the great hall. Once she felt a touch of warmth upon her skin, she felt re-energized. She wrenched herself from Ramsay's grip and bared her teeth at him.

"Unhand me, mongrel!" She hissed.

Ramsay seemed unfazed at her words or actions. "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 bit frosty, but only because she did not appreciate my generosity of allowing her to ride in the carriage. Nor did she accept my multiple offers on how to stay warm."

"What I did not appreciate was a bastard snatching me from my ancestral home and dragging me like some stray peasant all the way to the North." Margaery snapped. She so badly wanted to shift towards the fire, but she was bound and determined to stand tall and unyielding before her captors. Ramsay obviously thought her weak; she would prove him wrong.

Hannibal watched from where he stood next to his father. He was wearing deep red velvet trimmed with black beneath a thick fur cloak. He watched every move his brother made, he had been instructed to punish his brother severely if he pulled another stunt like this, or if he tried to hurt Margaery. He could see that she was injured and the color of her lips caused him to be concerned that she would not last the night if she was not warmed up.

However, he did spot the spirit and fight in her - Hannibal found it both foolish and brave of her to be so bold standing before his brother.

Chapter 3

Roose gave Ramsay a look of disappointment. Something very different from his usual mask of absolute indifference. He then turned to Margaery and promptly ignored Ramsay's remarks.

"I do apologize for my bastard's rude behavior. You will not be treated beneath your station again, my lady." Roose promised before turning back to Ramsay "You did not follow the agreements we made to Highgarden." He said coolly.

Ramsay was hurt and disappointed by his father's words and the looks he received. How ungrateful! He had risked his own men and life retrieving the bitch and this was how he was thanked?

"House Tyrell was disrespecting us by keeping what was owed," Ramsay grumbled.

"How dare you speak about House Tyrell?" Margaery snapped. "You know nothing of my house!"

Ramsay turned on her to glare at the haughty bitch. "I wonder, does a wife truly have need of a tongue? Brother, perhaps you'd care to partake of your lady's tongue before I cut it out?" Ramsay reached to his belt where he kept a nice, sharp knife.

Margaery glared at the Bolton bastard. "Lay another hand on me, and you will not be using it again."

Hannibal watched the exchange, but made no moves at the idle threat from his half-brother. Of course he had heard of Margaery, but had not met her in person. She was indeed fair to look upon, and she was not a weak woman with how boldly she stood before them despite the gravity of her situation. He knew Ramsay was bluffing about hurting her to get into her head.

"She will soon be a Bolton. Boltons do not have such deformities, you know this brother." Hannibal said icily.

Ramsay shrugged and gave a lopsided smirk. "Well, she'll be a Bolton in name only, not a true Bolton by blood brother."

"Hmph, even so, I'd still be more proper Bolton than you." Margaery sneered, sticking her nose into the air. It was hardly a bragging point in her eyes, but still - it would stick in Ramsay's craw, and that was the intended result.

Ramsay's eyes lit and he made no attempt to hide the glare of pure hatred for her. That made Margery nervous, but she ignored him - or at least pretended to.

Hannibal found the fire and fight within her both foolish and attractive. He did find the fact that she refused to cower interesting. However, she should have noted her surroundings. She did not need to cower, but she should show more caution. She did strike a fair blow against Ramsay at his own game of wits, something he found rather endearing. He did not want some meek, simpering woman to serve only to bear children for him like his father had. He wanted a woman strong enough to keep up with him.

Before Ramsay could speak, a raven landed in the window and cawed. Margaery saw the Tyrell seal on the emerald green wax and smiled rather smugly to Roose Bolton. "That'll be for you and your bastard."

Ramsay growled and snatched the scroll to read it aloud. "It's from Olenna Tyrell. To Roose Bolton: You made a bargain with House Tyrell. Margaery of House Tyrell is mine and would have been released to you in due time. You and your rabid dog of a bastard are thus commanded to return Margaery to Highgarden. Else the Tyrell army will collect what is ours. Sincerely, Olenna Tyrell."

Ramsay crumpled the parchment in his fist in rage. "Surely this insult will not be ignored, father? You cannot submit to demands from such a place as Highgarden!" House Bolton had a reputation, after all.

Margaery just stood smirking, happy that her grandmother had acted quickly and refused to accept this insult to House Tyrell.

Roose held up a hand to silence Ramsay. He summoned a Maester, "Send a raven to Highgarden immediately. Assure them that the action of my bastard does not reflect the true feelings of my house. His foolishness will be dealt with here, and if Highgarden feels more punishment is needed they are welcome to send a raven to request them. Tell them that we promise to return Lady Margaery back to Highgarden. In return we expect House Tyrell to have the wedding prepared so that we can celebrate her union to my son Lord Hannibal Bolton upon our arrival. House Bolton will stay for a month after the festivities have ended so that Lady Margaery can have the time necessary to pack properly for her relocation to the North. Sign it Lord Bolton." The Maester bowed his head and left to send the raven.

As she watched the Maester leave to send the Bolton response, Margaery realized it would take some time for her grandmother to issue a reply of her own. In the meantime, she would be stuck with the Boltons…alone. Not even Loras was here to protect her. Margaery was beyond nervous, she was downright terrified. However, she wasn't about to show her fear to the men who bore the banner of the flayed man. Margaery would make good use of her time; if she was to be here, she could at least pretend to be cordial for as long as required. She had no intentions of marrying into the Bolton house, she planned on becoming Queen. But she would at least play nice with her for-the-moment betrothed. Ramsay, on the other hand, would get no warmth from her.

Hannibal continued to observe Margaery in silence. He had seen that smug look on her face and the fearlessness she had towards his cruel brother. Both he and his father were far crueler than Ramsay when provoked. However, they did not allow their emotions to get the better of them and prompt them to act prematurely. That strength of hers was growing her potential in Hannibal's eyes.

Margaery finally let herself shiver from the cold. She rubbed her hands along her arms to try and generate some manner of warmth into her body.

Hannibal saw that shiver as his first opportunity. He strode towards her, removed his fur cloak, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I have arranged for private chambers for you. There are some servants and a hot bath awaiting you, along with some warmer clothes. The servants assigned to you can adjust them to your liking. They will keep you far warmer while we prepare supplies to return you to Highgarden." He offered her his arm. "If you will follow me Lady Margaery, I will take you there now."

Margery 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 Joffrey. Fearful, and even a little 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 nodded her head and took his arm to follow him.

Once Hannibal had led Margaery out of the room, Roose Bolton looked to Ramsay with disappointment. "This insult would not have occurred had you not gone down like a rabid animal to collect something that would have been here in due time. House Tyrell is not a broken house that can be forced into anything. Your foolishness means I will now have to travel South to remedy the situation." He said coolly. There was no true emotion on his face, only disappointment in his pale eyes. He gave a nod to his guards to take Ramsay and carry out his punishment.