Chapter 4
Hannibal led Margaery through the halls and explained where they were in relation to the main hall. He wanted her to feel like she could trust him. He could tell that it would be critical for him to build trust with her to win her over.
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.
Hannibal led her up the stairs of the tower that would lead to their separate quarters. He opened the door that showed a very large room with a hot fire roaring in the fireplace. There was hunting gear along the walls that would indicate he would be sleeping in this room. He then led her to the smaller door in the back that led to a slightly smaller chamber with no windows. There was a hot bath waiting, along with a warm fire in the smaller fireplace.
"These will be your chambers until we head South. You can lock the door from the inside. Either myself or the servants assigned to you will knock and inform you of meals." He explained.
Margaery took in the sights of her bedchamber and was a little relieved to learn that she could lock the door. She glanced at 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, was Ramsay sent to kidnap me? Or was it truly all his idea?"
Hannibal found her shift to being more direct in private interesting. He chose to take a slight gamble and be more direct with her than his father would prefer.
"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 with my father following after a date was set." He said before he allowed a hint of darkness to edge into his eyes. "I assure you that he will be punished in the Bolton manner for his indiscretion. If he makes another attempt to harm you, I will put him down like the rabid dog he is."
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 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."
Hannibal seemed amused at her question. "Ironborn are only dangerous in the 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 Ironborn leader." He said as he watched her explore her room.
"Even fish out of water can be poisonous," she advised, "Or can cut through to the bone with scales and sharp spines." She pointed out. 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 admirable accomplishment. Still 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 like First Night. 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 found her bit of advice to be interesting, he had not expected such a keen observation from her. Perhaps she had more intellect than she let on. "A valid argument, but Bolton men are naturally resistant to poison." He answered before looking more serious. "I will caution you not to wander the castle alone, My Lady. My brother will be sulking since you wounded his pride with well-timed insults. Antagonizing him when you are alone would be foolish."
Margaery looked up from a small bookshelf at Hannibal's warning. 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."
Hannibal 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.". Hannibal could easily kill Ramsay if necessary. However, he had been hesitant to kill him too soon. If Ramsay made another attempt to attack Margaery, Hannibal would not hesitate. If Margaery was marred in any way, they would have a war on their hands. One they could not easily win with their current military strength.
Chapter 5
Brienne took a deep breath before stepping out onto the patio and kneeling before the Queen of Thorns. She bowed her head low in reverence to the Tyrell matriarch.
"My Lady."
Olenna let out a huff when Brienne entered. She had been told that Brienne was standing a relentless vigil along the walls since Margaery had been kidnapped. She needed the female guard to be well-rested and ready, not a shadowed husk of herself due to needless guilt.
"Dispense with that and rise, how many times have I told you not to be so formal? We are all quite aware of how honorable you are, no need to overdo it." Olenna waved her hand for the woman to stand to her feet.
Brienne stood and looked upon Lady Olenna. The fatigue was clear upon her face and in her posture.
"I apologize, My Lady. It is difficult for me to be so familiar and informal, particularly towards those I have sworn to serve." She answered sheepishly.
Olenna sighed when she saw how tired Brienne looked. "Dear Gods child, you look on the brink of death from exhaustion. Everyone needs rest, you are no exception."
Brienne's eyes flashed for a moment. "The last time I was resting, Lady Margaery was kidnapped."
Olenna was happy to see the fire still there. "Brienne, I tell you again, it is not your fault that your pig-headed fellow guardsmen were unable to keep my Margaery safe for one night so that you could get much needed-rest. I will hear no more reports of you standing on the walls waiting for a raven. I am commanding you to rest until I summon you once again. I have a mission for you, but first you must rest and regain your strength."
Brienne was surprised at the scolding and bowed her head. "Yes, My Lady."
Olenna waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, now go. Away with you."
Brienne bowed at the waist before turning on her heel to go back to her room to sleep. However restless she suspected that rest would be.
...
Margaery again turned to the bookshelf and a soft look of disappointment crossed her face. It was a lonely piece of furniture, but it did make her think. Why would they put this here if she was simply meant to be a prisoner? Hannibal noted how she looked at the bookshelf and considered what books he would tell servants to bring up for her. Margaery glanced up to Hannibal again.
"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?" Margaery was not used to being someplace not of her own free will. She would not give into her fear amongst the rabid dogs and flaying men; so long as she was here, she would try to make the best of it.
Hannibal considered her request as he took into account her current wardrobe. "It is quite cold there. You will need more than just my cloak. I can have a servant fetch some warmer clothes for you. Did you want to go now? Or wait until tomorrow?" He asked.
"I am not pressed to go right now, I can wait," Margaery nodded slowly, "Whatever is most convenient."
He gave a nod 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."
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 don't think me ungrateful."
To Hannibal's mind Margaery was not a hostage, her lodgings were for her safety. They would not prevent her from trying to run. Besides, they would be able to find her easily in the snow if she attempted to flee. "I do not consider you my hostage."
Margaery listened and ran her hands along the bed. Suddenly she realized the full gravity of the situation. She was set to marry a Bolton, and 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 being married to Renly and Joffrey, 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 how her grandmother had instructed her. Margaery could play the indulgent sex kitten well, but deep down she was the doe, gentle and soft.
Hannibal 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 the boy King even a taste of her body. He watched as she ran her fingers along the bed and saw the hesitation. He would store that knowledge for himself alone.
"It is one of the finest beds in the castle. 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. There will be additional blankets if you feel you might need them." He said with a tone of warmth in his voice.
Margaery 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.
Hannibal knew this was only a temporary arrangement. After they were wed, his father would return to The Dreadfort and he would live here with Margaery. His brother would not be able to exact revenge after their wedding, Hannibal would see to that. Her question was met with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.
"He is angered by my breathing and you being betrothed to me. You did not cower before him, that continued to rile him up. Poking at his lack of title or future 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."
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.
"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 Hannibal was simply stronger and fiercer than Ramsay? If so, Margaery was fearful that she had a problem.
Hannibal was equally as ruthless as his brother 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 looked slightly smug before he answered, "I have always been able to read my brother like a book. It has always been easy for me to predict how he intended to kill me next. I have managed to stay one step ahead of him my entire life."
So he was smarter than Ramsay, though that wasn't saying much in Margaery's eyes. That made him resourceful at least, she could appreciate that. Again, her fingers ran over the soft furs that covered the bed. Wolf pelts - she wondered with a sick feeling in her stomach if these were the wolves once kept as pets by the Starks. She prayed not.
Hannibal continued to watch how she was reacting to the room. Many people showed their true thoughts during simple moments like these. Her interest in the furs prompted him to speak. "That is wolf fur. I train them when they are pups. These are what remains of the ones that fell while trying to protect me. They are very loyal creatures. Perhaps you could meet them before we head South." He offered.
Margaery was rather relieved to know that the pelts 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.
Hannibal gave a nod, "Wolves make a far better companion than the sigil of my house."
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." Olenna had always hated the golden rose.
He had spotted that smile and the twirling of her hair. He wondered if that was an intentional play to him or if it was a reflexive reaction. "Soon enough your sigil will change and you can be respected and feared rather than overlooked and underestimated."
She pursed her lips. Margaery rather enjoyed being a Baratheon, at least in name. The stag 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 a little less macabre.
"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." Margaery chuckled. If she truly was to stay here, she would need to know when Ramsay was up to something.
He chuckled slightly 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."
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 gave a bow of his head. "Of course. The bath is hot and there are a variety of scented oils you may add to your preference. Simply ring the bell once you are done. If you need anything, either myself or the maids will answer. The maids will come with a variety of gowns later that they will adjust to you."
Margaery allowed herself a laugh and even blushed a bit. "I fear I will indeed look foolish in these northern gowns. 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 over. She would look silly, and likely be mocked upon attending dinner. She hadn't liked the look she'd received from the kennel master's daughter upon her arrival.
Hannibal's 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 as difficult as the finer fabrics from the south. The largest difference is the weight." He offered. "Rest well and enjoy your bath My Lady." He said with a bow before shutting the door.
Hannibal shook his head to himself as he waited on the other side of the closed door. She was indeed quite fair. However, the additional praises of her looks was unnecessary on his part. He would wait until he heard the door lock before stepping away.
Margaery smiled a bit brighter and bigger after the door shut. Why did his praise and compliments make her so happy? Margaery moved to lock the door after it shut. She removed her necklace and tucked it beneath the bed, hoping to keep something of value hidden in case someone came thieving while she bathed despite the locked door.
She took a long bath followed by a relaxing nap. It was still light out when she woke again.
Chapter 6
Ramsay spit the blood from his mouth as he made his way back to his chambers. He was going to make his brother pay for the flogging he had just endured. He sent his most trusted man to watch the pair of them and inform him if it looked like they would leave the castle.
...
Hannibal had remained in his chambers while Margaery bathed. He had been reading for a time. After finishing his book, he had stripped down to the simple breeches that covered his manhood and nothing else. He began to do his exercises to maintain his strength. This was part of his daily routine to stay one step ahead of his brother. He was doing a string of push ups facing the door that led to the stairs. His back was currently to the door that led to Margaery's chamber.
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 had paused his workout to drink water. There was a thin layer of sweat clinging to his muscular frame. His back was still to Margaery when she opened the door.
Margaery paused when she opened the door and saw Hannibal's muscular frame. Joffrey, still being a boy when they were wed, had never been terribly muscular. Even Renly had been more slender of frame than anything. She could obviously see the muscles beneath Hannibal's skin and the healthy glow he exuded. Her mouth watered a bit at the sight, had he planned this? Was he trying to seduce her prior to the wedding to then 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 treasure. Why not let him think the plan was working, if it had indeed been planned?
Hannibal 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. It had not been Hannibal's plan for her to see him in this state, and 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 attending 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 said as he continued to re-dress himself quickly.
Margaery's blush faded as he scolded her. She brought her hand down and her body shifted back a bit. She listened, her eyes locked with his instead of being 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 for long.
Once Hannibal was fully dressed once again, he smoothed down his hair and calmed himself down. He motioned towards some gowns that were lying on his bed. "These were my mother's. I picked a few that have a similar style to which you are accustomed in the South. Do any of these please you?" He asked, his frustration gone as quickly as it had risen up within him.
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 of the Flayed Man. "They're lovely. Northern fashion is not given proper credit."
She lifted the gown and tilted her head, examining it further. She laid it back down almost lovingly 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 Hannibal – 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 proud shoulders, and round rear. Margaery then stepped into the heavier gown to try it on. Only when it was secure did she turn to face Hannibal again.
Hannibal had noted that she dropped her first game when she was scolded. He watched her carefully as she looked through the gowns and selected one from the stack. His dark eyes did indeed take in her fair skin and body when she was bared. However, he removed the lust that stirred within him from his eyes; he refused to give her any satisfaction in thinking her game was working so soon.
"It's not much different in size as I had imagined. Heavy indeed though, it will take time to get used to it." Margaery looked up with a playful smile. "Does it suit me, my lord?"
Hannibal stepped forward to inspect her in his mother's 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, a test for the teasing rose of Highgarden. "Careful with the games you play here. You may get more than you bargained for."
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; the cut of the gown pressed her breasts together and made them swell a bit over the hemline. However, when he whispered so close to her ear, Margaery had to bite the inside of her cheek. The heat of his breath and the rumble of his voice…oh, this was going to be a challenge. Margaery reminded herself that he was a Bolton, probably used to taking whatever he wanted 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. She wondered if her skills were enough for the North.
Hannibal noticed the slight indentation as Margaery bit the inside of her cheek; he stored that knowledge away for later. Her confidence was amusing, he wondered how much of it was mere bluster. He took a few steps away from her before motioning to books on a nearby table. "I have collected a few things from my father's library. I can place any that are of interest to you in your chamber."
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.
Hannibal noted how she moved. Soon enough she would be walking just as elegantly in these dresses as those to which she was accustomed.
Margaery 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 Northern folklore that she would probably find useful. "These seem awfully important."
Her question was met with a shake of his head. "My father has no need for these books. They are yours to do with as you please."
Margaery nodded slowly and flipped through a poetry book. "Even so, I shall endeavor not to keep them occupied long." They weren't hers to keep in the long run, after all.
Chapter 7
Daenerys felt as if she had an impossible choice before her. Lose her Sun and Stars, or lose her son as a sacrifice. She did not know which path was truly right. Her heart was beginning to break regardless of her choice.
Jorah had heard the Dothraki arguing and rushed to the tent of the great Khal in his full armor. He found Daenerys holding Khal Drogo's head in her lap with a look of hopelessness in her face.
Daenerys felt a glimmer of hope when she saw Ser Jorah. "Ser Jorah...You had best sleep with that armor on."
Jorah nodded his head. "Yes, Khaleesi." He turned to leave the tent and stand guard outside the entrance. This would be a long night.
...
Hannibal moved to his door and rang a bell. Three servant women arrived, meek little things. Hannibal motioned to them. "These are your maids. They are excellent seamstresses and can adjust the dresses you like to your preference. Once you are prepared for dinner, ring the bell."
The maids collected all of the dresses and went into Margaery's chamber.
Once Margaery entered the chamber after them, one of the maids shut and locked the door. If Margaery looked carefully, she would see a variety of scars mostly hidden by their clothes, though they peeked out from her sleeves and collar. Margaery felt pity for the poor maids.
"What happened to your arm?"
The maid moved to cover her wrist on instinct. She turned to the lady and gave a curtsy. "M'lady, I refused to poison Master Hannibal. Master Ramsey was furious when I refused and he began to remove my skin."
Margaery stiffened and her eyes widened in shock at the story. "What stopped him?"
The maid looked up at her. "Master Hannibal."
Margaery began to wonder if there was more to the legitimate Bolton heir than she had originally suspected. He had every reason to be paranoid of his brother, Ramsay seemed a proper lunatic.
The maids set to work on the dresses. Margaery asked that the heavy lining of the gowns be altered just slightly to allow her more freedom of movement. The maids obeyed and altered the gowns so that the backs were open as well, per the lady's request. As they worked, the maids spoke of what had been happening in the castle. The youngest of the girls seemed to be the quietest when they spoke.
Margaery listened to every word. The youngest…the way she was so timid and sweet, Margaery tilted a brow. There was perhaps a pang of jealousy in Margaery's eyes, but she knew not why. She smiled though, and treated the maid kindly all the same. She found her curiosity piqued about this young woman. "How did you find yourself in the service of Hannibal Bolton?"
The young girl hesitated for a moment before looking up at the Lady. "Milady...Master Ramsay kidnapped me from my home. He told me to pleasure Master Hannibal, if I refused...he said he would kill my family. I waited for Master Hannibal as instructed. Master Ramsay was waiting in the shadows to watch. Master Hannibal never touched me. He covered me and sent me to work with these two. Ramsay had already killed and skinned my parents by the time I was in the Dreadfort." She seemed upset at the memory and went to get more thread.
The oldest of the maids spoke up after she left. "Sorry Milady, it is still difficult for her. Ramsay forced her to drink a tonic that made her barren. It is rumored that any man who sleeps with her becomes barren as well. It is the most cruel thing I have seen Master Ramsay do to a woman."
Margaery felt true pity for the poor girl. Perhaps those moments of kindness she had seen from Hannibal were not just a game. This was a great deal of information she would need to process. The young maid soon came back and they finished adjusting the gowns.
Margaery wasn't worried about her back freezing; she had long enough hair for that. The maids finished the dress by altering the neckline and giving Margaery the more plunging cut of gown that she was used to. Not terribly dramatic, but enough to show off the swell of her full bosom comfortably. Once she was properly perfumed and her jewels decorated her fair throat again, Margaery did as commanded and rang the bell. Somehow the thought of Hannibal being angry with her and scolding her again made her uneasy.
There was a firm knock on the door. Hannibal was standing there in one of his finer tunics. "Dinner is ready, My Lady," he said as he waited for her to step out of her chambers. He was curious how the maids had been able to alter the dress.
One of the maids opened the door after hearing Hannibal's voice.
As Hannibal called to her, Margaery left her small room, tugging at the sleeves of the gown. She hardly ever wore gowns with sleeves. This was a strange sensation for her. She looked up though and smiled, a picture of loveliness with the gown adjusted to suit her figure and tastes. Her hair cascaded in brunette waves down her back, just barely showing the flash of soft skin exposed by the new cut of the gown.
"Well? Does it suit me better now?" She asked.
Hannibal saw how she tugged at the sleeves, but he immediately noted the change in the neckline of the gown and how Margaery seemed to move in it better than before. There was genuine attraction in his eyes as he offered his arm. "Indeed it does. It nearly mimics the style they wear in the South. You might start a new fashion trend here in the North."
The additional exposed skin was nice, but tasteful. Hannibal would enjoy this evening meal quite well. Hannibal offered his arm to lead her back towards the main dining hall
Margaery saw that glint in Hannibal's eye and it gave her added confidence in her game. Gladly she took his arm and let him lead her to the dining hall. "Thank you, my Lord," she smiled and even leaned into him as she took his arm. "You're kind to say so."
Along the way, she would see the men outside already preparing a small caravan for the trip South. Roose Bolton was not bluffing when he said they would return her to Highgarden to have a wedding and pack her clothing to move back North. Margaery saw the caravan preparing for a long journey. That put her mind at ease. They would go to Highgarden and her grandmother would sort this all out. At the same time…this wasn't so bad, the way things were now. Hannibal noted her gaze moving to the caravan and saw the conflict within her eyes. He would test her true feelings before leaving Winterfell.
When they arrived at the dining hall, Roose and Ramsay were already there. Ramsay gave a haughty sneer upon seeing Margaery.
Margaery, having no time for him, lifted her nose in the air and ignored him. "Good evening, Lord Bolton," she greeted Roose with a smile and a bow of her head. Hannibal also ignored his brother for the time being. However, he would keep a wary eye on Ramsay in case of any foul play.
Roose gave a nod of approval, but his face remained as stoic as before. "I trust you saw the caravan being prepared? We have heard rumors of a large snowstorm. My men are checking those reports as we speak. If the storm is mild enough we will leave the day after tomorrow. However, if the storm is a threat to our safety on the roads, we will wait for it to pass."
Margaery nodded to Roose as she sat down. She wasn't necessarily surprised that it would take time to leave for Highgarden. It was easier for Ramsay to travel as he had before with a small band of guards than it would be for all of them in the caravan. "I understand, there's no need for senseless risks after all," she nodded. Margaery was sitting next to Hannibal on the right of Roose. Ramsay sat on the left.
Two guards brought the kennel master's daughter, Myranda, to stand off to Margaery's right. Hannibal nodded to the girl and glanced to Margaery. "She is to be your food taster."
When they brought in the kennel master's daughter and her purpose was explained, Margaery gave a satisfied smile. Though she knew not the girl's significance to her soon-to-be brother-in-law.
Ramsay didn't find it amusing. He hadn't poisoned Margaery; oh no, he had bigger, darker plans. She would suffer for irritating him if he had any say about it. "Is that really necessary?" Ramsay grumbled as he took a gulp of wine. "She needs a food taster? Really? Such high maintenance, this girl."
"I was not the one who requested it," Margaery pointed out as she lifted her wine glass to the girl for her to test. "Clearly your kin has no trust for you. That is your doing, not mine." She was determined to be ladylike and civil at the table.
Ramsay; however, did not share that view. "I've never understood the point of tasters," He sighed as Margaery drank her wine when it was deemed safe. "If you know the taster, you can always just help them develop a tolerance for the poison you plan to use on your victim. Lull them into a false sense of security when the taster eats the food and deems it safe…or drinks the wine."
Margaery glared at him over the rim of her cup and slowly set it down. Ramsay hadn't poisoned her, but she didn't know that for certain. The suggestion had her very uneasy.
Roose ignored the presence of a taster and ate his meal in silence. However, Ramsay's last comment drew a turn of his head towards the bastard. "Stop pouting that your little whore is checking the food for poison and rotten meat. Regardless of what you do to her, you would never risk her health by building her tolerance for poison. Now eat and stop this idle prattle to make our guest nervous."
Ramsay grumbled when his father scolded him so coldly, but he continued to drink and eat his meal. He made it a point to mentally note this night as another reason to kill Margaery, slowly and painfully. He considered pulling out her fingernails, her teeth and eyes and tongue – take away her beauty, and what was she? Nothing, really.
Hannibal observed the interaction and reached slowly to take Margaery's hand. He motioned to the wine. "It is perfectly safe, My Lady," he said. He knew any hesitation from the kennel girl would be a warning of foul play.
Hannibal had built up immunity to all poisons to extend his own life. Ramsay had attempted to poison him a number of times after all, but Hannibal had not even suffered so much as a mild stomach ache from the various poisons.
Ramsay smiled to himself, which was unsettling for Margaery but she took to ignoring him. She drank her wine as the girl tested her food. When it was all deemed safe, Margaery ate slowly, almost reluctantly. It was good food, but Ramsay had put her off and made her nervous. She tried not to let it show, but had minimal success.
Hannibal noted how slowly Margaery was eating and set his utensils down. He summoned one of his men forward and gave silent commands. The man nodded and bowed before stepping out of the hall. Hannibal stood slowly as he looked at his father. "Thank you for the fine meal father. My Lady requested a tour of the grounds earlier and now seems as good a time as any." Hannibal turned to Margaery and offered his hand.
Margaery was surprised when Hannibal stood up so suddenly and excused them from the table. Ramsay snorted and took a long drink from his cup, but said nothing. Margaery stood and walked with Hannibal out of the main hall.
He could tell she was uncomfortable and he was not going to let his brother sour what he had begun building with her. The young maids brought an extra thick fur cloak to place upon Margaery's shoulders as Hannibal's men placed a dark black cloak upon his broad shoulders in turn. Margaery glanced up to Hannibal with grateful eyes as the cloak was secured about her shoulders. She followed him outside. When they were in the courtyard, Margaery leaned into Hannibal a little. "Thank you…" she whispered.
Hannibal gave her a hint of a smile at her show of gratitude. He led her to his kennels. He knew some of his wolves had recently birthed pups. He wanted her to grow fond of them and for them to take in her scent to protect her, should he not be around.
Once they were in the kennels, Margaery was a little afraid - though she tried not to show it. The wolves did growl when they first entered, but Hannibal calmed them with a single whistle. She looked at the wolves with wide eyes. They were beautiful, but terrifying. When Hannibal exerted such control over the wolves, Margaery looked at him in awe. It was not just any man who could control those animals so fully.
Hannibal summoned the alpha male forward to inspect Margaery. When the alpha came forward, Margaery held her hand out assertively, but cautiously. The alpha sniffed her for a few moments before finally licking her hand. When he licked her, she sighed in relief. Hannibal saw how she took control over her fear and stood strong before the wolves.
Hannibal gave a smile, "The alpha has accepted you. My wolves will now protect you as fiercely as they protect me."
When Hannibal spoke, Margaery looked up to him with her dark eyes wide. "…will you show me? The commands you give them, will you teach me?"
Hannibal felt a bit of attraction for her when she showed such interest and requested to learn how to train them. He gave a nod of his head in response. "I can teach you. However, until they trust you…it might not work as effectively as you desire." Hannibal knew that once his scent was on her, the wolves would obey. However, now was not the time to discuss that.
Margaery nodded in understanding. She felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of learning how to train wasn't something she would have been able to do back home in Highgarden.
Hannibal taught her a few simple commands, such as sit and stay. Margaery had limited success with the females, but many of the males went along with her commands. He saw how they wagged their tails and he mused quietly in his mind that she might be in heat and not even know it. When he taught her the basic commands, Margaery was overjoyed when she was successful. She praised the wolves when they listened and couldn't have worn a bigger smile if she tried.
Hannibal led her away from the adults and towards the small pups who eagerly bounded over to lick over any part of the humans they could reach. Margaery was almost disappointed when he led her away from the adults, but when she saw the pups she couldn't help crying out in delight. She knelt down to run her fingers over their little heads, giggling when they nipped and licked her fingers.
"Would you like one to train for yourself?" Hannibal asked her. Tying her to a small dire wolf pup would likely open her heart to staying in the North quicker than Hannibal only trying to seduce her.
When Hannibal made her the offer, Margaery looked up with wide eyes. "Really? You mean it?" She grinned from ear to ear. "I would love that!" Having a pup she could train for herself, Margaery loved the idea. She might train it to pester Ramsay and relentlessly bite his kennel girl.
Hannibal saw her delight and stood behind her with a smile of his own. Most women would have run away in terror at being surrounded by a pack of wolves. She was quite strong, like the reports of her grandmother. Hannibal found himself growing more attached to her as the day wore on; more than he should be so soon.
He gave her a nod. "I truly do. We can even take the one you choose up to your chambers tonight. There are a few that are weaned from their mothers and are ready to come inside for training. I take them in small groups of three at a time," he explained. Some of his men were waiting outside to collect the pups he would choose and assist by carrying two while Hannibal carried the third. He motioned at a group of four. "These are the ones who are ready for training. Which one would you like My Lady?"
Margaery thought long and hard about how to make her selection. She tilted her head at the four pups and examined them. Margaery had never dealt much with the Highgarden hounds. That was for Loras and their oldest brother, Willas. She knew what qualities she wanted in a wolf. Strength, fearlessness, but affectionate and obedient at the same time. Margaery stood before the pups and loomed over them. Two whimpered and stepped back, another sprang forward and barked. The fourth sat down and wagged its tail up at her. Margaery smiled and reached down to pick up the seated pup. She turned and looked over her shoulder to Hannibal with a smile. "This one will do nicely."
Hannibal watched as she chose her pup. He collected the other three and gave her a nod before chuckling. "That is a female pup, but she is the leader of this small pack of four," he said in amusement.
Hannibal kept the one that had barked at her, and gave the other two to his guards to carry as he led Margaery back up towards their chambers. Margaery said nothing and cradled the pup in her arms as they walked.
They passed by Ramsay and all four pups growled and bared their teeth at him. Hannibal had trained them to hate his brother from the moment they were born. When the pups growled at Ramsay, there was satisfaction in Margaery's gaze.