Margeary's POV
Many years ago, I did not even expect a completely different fate awaiting me than I had dreamed and planned, and most importantly, that it would make me happy. Since childhood, I have used to thinking that marriage is a contract, and, according to the saying, a woman must be a neck that shakes a head of a family to wield power - no matter, a peasant or a noble. Still, deep in my heart I was hoping that my marriage would be as good as the marriage of Catelyn Stark of House Tully, for example.
At the very beginning Loras and I were going to Winterfell for the Feast of Souls filled with faith in the success of the mission, which was to establish double bonds between Highgarden and Winterfell - Sansa was to marry Willem or Loras, me Robb ... I thought I could have hit worse, but I wouldn't have liked to move north. Who could have predicted that Mother and Maiden would have completely different plans for all of us, and that holydays would turn everything upside down?
Anyway, we arrived as soon as possible, considering the distance. There were at least half a dozen competitors to Sansa's hand. Everybody flattered Frey's eldest son, but no one took him seriously -on the opposite, if Roslyn had married Robb, Old Frey would had climbed to the next level in the hierarchy, and Direwolfs would have been guaranteed free passage South at least until Robb's life. Apart from one of my brothers, only two mattered. Everyone hated Bolton, but we were afraid of Lord Dreadfort and his naturalized son. Robb did not speak to them except forced courtesy, he demonstratively showed sympathy for Jon, while bastard brother despised by Sansa was giving Ramsay such murderous glances that I began to wonder what this quiet and clumsy in relations with girls boy hided everyday. It is interesting that Bastard Bolton, as I called him in my thoughts, bypassed me wide - maybe he knew that I could recognize the sadist when I saw one.
I've grown to like Sansa from the beginning. Though she seemed silly, she had a good heart and was just and human for servants, like her mother. She did well over time, but before she outstanded Lady Catelyn in many matters, she became a hero of song and even art because of Ramsey and Jaimie. I would not wish such a fate even this hag Cersei, but the reward makes nightmarish dreams cease over time. I also deserved a few scenes in a long, beautifying real events, but tasteful play written in white poem.
That autumn I decided to spoil the perfect young lady a little. I had absolutely no complaints about the upbringing that Lady Stark had given her, but life at Winterfell did not prepare her for life outside and what was to happen to her. First, I started talking to her about people. I warned her against Baeylish, whom she trusted too much, though her mother tried her best to keep him at a distance. I managed to convince her that even people like King Robert - especially King Robert - and Old Lion, as well as Littlefinger have their weaknesses and we, women, can exploit them in our favor. Finally, when she mourned her innocence a little and I shook her vision of the world a little, we started talking about men.
Breaking Bolton's ranks was extremely easy, I've had literally all Stark brothers on my side since Bran saw and described Rickon how Ramsey beat the servant's bloody, blasting him as a trifle when Sansa quickly passed unwanted suitor with the indifferent: "Good day.". Lord Stark, of course, could not interfere in matters between the Boltons and their service, but he somehow endured the presence of Lord Dreadfort only because of his famous honor. From the beginning, Sansa felt instinctive dislike for both of them, and thanks to me, she began to learn the difficult art of avoiding Ramsay so as not to irritate this beast.
As for the happier stories and teachings, she wondered again and again, how do I know this or that and whether my mother or grandmother told me about it? With a benevolent smile, I nodded, though it wasn't entirely true. All this caused that I completely conquered Arya's heart - in her eyes my sister gained - and Robb Stark began to look at me suspiciously ... As long as I was watching Bolton and flirting and retorting with him and Theon, everything was fine, but Sansa was another story! Poor thing, he did not manage to inform his father that I was spoiling his innocent little sister. He didn't make it, because three days before the All Souls Day the third major competitor arrived.
Celebrating the Festival of Souls is a typical tradition of the North. At Highgarden, for whose abundance we thank the Seven, we stop at Harvest Festival, but the Northmen are superstitious. It is hardly surprising, since they deal with dangers that we have never dreamed of on a daily basis - out of real threats it is worth mentioning skirmishes with savages. It seems that the difference in the lands they inhabit has influenced the preservation of a peculiar custom.
When the Maesters observe that the days are getting shorter, they traditionally mark the day of slaughtering the pig and Farewell Day. When the harvest is over and the barrels and pantries are full of salted or dried meat, the Northerners go to the godswoods and set symbolic feasts for souls who, they believe, come that day to look closely at relatives, give wise advice or on the contrary - mischief. Because some souls are able to hurt and even posses the living, everyone is wearing masks after sunset, dressing up, or at least dirty faces, so that the ghosts do not recognize them, and also try not to leave the house, cover the windows, and inside homes burn as many candles as possible to scare away evil. This day is - for the paradox - considered to be very successful for making engagements, but not weddings, as with all contracts - planning are traditionally finalized during the winter solstice. Not surprisingly, when Sansa grew up to the age of sixteen, Winterfell fell to guests from all over the North for the Festival of Souls.
Three days left to All Souls Day, when I nabed my brother with Baratheon. Renly Baratheon, who also came to try to get Sansa's hand, and in any case for a wife, came up with the idea that my bedroom would be a perfect meeting place with my brother and the best time would be a quater after I left. The sight I found having returned for a shawl cost me a loss of appetite at the thought of the consequences that might have happened to Loras. Thanks the Seven for both of them not having a time to undress completely. Renly tried to ask me out, but with malicious satisfaction I waited for them to embrace and leave themselves. I asked both of them what they thought I should do, and since they did not answer, I measured them with "Granny Ollena's gaze" and said that I had to think about it all well. I turned on my heel and went for a walk.
When in an hour later I heard that the Kingslayer decided to join this crazy company of the ceremony, my head ached for the first time in my life.
Tyrion's POV
Whatever we do, dear reader, we must first of all try to treat others as we would like to be treated ourselves, deepen knowledge and take care of the family. Considering blood ties, I have to agree with my father: family is everything and for this reason, and not because of a bunch of crap feudal principles, it should take the lead before everything. Without a family, a small child will not survive and will not go out to people equipped with knowledge, even the most modest goods and education. Between all Westeros Great Houses Tullys prevail in that task, but my father, with all his twisted sence of loyalty, was the second best.
These rules helped me to survive the bad times that occurred that fateful autumn when we came to Winterfell.
Winterfell and Wintertown, thanks to priceless skills of lady Catelyn, somehow accommodated all the gentlemen - some with families - and their service. Thanks to our status a mounted messenger assured, that all of our party – except travelling actors – will be provided with quarters in the castle. We've send back polite words of gratitude and we've informed, that we will officially come at noon.
Before that, I left my Golden Brother with the trouble of choosing new armour, as he left this of White Guard in capital. We were going to stay North for a while, and I wanted to do two things – make a piss from the Wall and see the most famous Godswood alone.
Who could have thought that I'll find a small family gathering and one spy there! Almost like King's Gardens!
Hidden at the hill, I saw a graying warrior sharpening his family sword, deeply in thought. I understood his need of solitude, because even my head was bursting with thinking about the issue of Sansa's marriage. If only this wicked Ramsey didn't come up with the idea of running for Sansa's hand! Helas, when the message from Jon Arryn came, Lady Stark decided to talk to her husband right away and I saw her too, walking hurriedly down the path. Just behind me the one end only lady Margeary Tyrell was looking from behind the bushes. I suppressed laughter.
- Catelyn, what does all this mean? – Ned Stark asked dumbfounded reading the enigmatic lines. - "Friend, the sons of Tywin Lannister are coming to you. Take young lord Jaime's not as the Kingslayer deserves, but like a man seeking peace and wanting to redeem himself. Do not send them away, but hear them both favorably for the good of the Seven Kingdoms and for reasons I cannot write about. Jon Arryn" - he read aloud.
I felt a wave of indescribable, various emotions, ending with unexpected relief. Lady Tyrell literally bite her own hand.
- Eddard, Ser Jaime will ask for Sansa's hand.
- Catelyn, what are you talking about ?!
- Something very serious must have happened that Arryn stood at Old Lion's side.
- Cat, can you hear yourself ?! Kingslayer?! My son-in-law ?! I would be angry if it wasn't so ridiculous!
- Ned, calm down. First of all, still many lords call Robert a usurper. Secondly, the Mad King's children are still alive, and ... you know what I can't say loudly. Third, it will be a great match! They basically go together, and the Lannisters need some good blood. And finally, we will get rid of the Bolton house. After all, no one would dare to refuse Old Lion ... may it be only Jaime, not Tyrion, because Tywin is ready to come up with the idea that Tyrion will marry Sansa, and Jamie will marry Margeary. By the way, if Dwarf were not ... well, a Dwarf, Margeary should marry him - everyone says they are the two greatest minds of the young generation.
Dear reader, I would give not only give a penny, but a gold dragon for Tyrell's Rose that moment!
- Cat, you're crazy. – lord Stark concluded in a manner of a man who reassembles his vision of the world.
- No. If it is true that Ser Jamie has shed white, as the Seven Kingdoms are already roaring about, why else would he come here? Tywin could have sent Tyrion himself.
- Cat ... but Sansa among the Lannisters?
- Why not? We can handle it. Let's go. This is not a good place to talk, and I have to write to Ollena, since you mentioned it ...
I recognized, that for some reason lady Catelyn was trembling at the thought about the future of her daughters. Besides, on a contrary to appearances, a Kingslayer was great party for Sansa ... Where it will be safer for Sansa than in Casterly Rock with, if the Gods are gracious, grandson of Tywin? I knew she had to convince Edd and Benjen ... and get used to calling Jaime other way than Kingslayer.
In a meantime lady Margeary got up and brushed the dress of grass and leaves and turned around massaging her temples. When she saw me, I could swear, that she had thought that some ghosts were really mocking her. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she looked a second time my short, stocky figure did not disappear.
Despite my will, I smiled.
- Lady Margeary, didn't your grandmother, Lady Ollena Tyrell, teach you that it's not nice to eavesdrop on?
- Lord Tyrion, you know as well as I do that she taught me that what is unsightly can be very useful and valuable."
I laughed heartily at this retort and hidden allusion.
- At least I won't be alone with this jumble and there will be someone to play cyvasse with. – I offered her a hand as I was experienced courtier and shuddered a little, when she accepted. I always thought she had good eyes and a noble heart, despite, say, playful temper. When pugnacious fought for better with amazement on my face, she blushed.
- It is an interesting idea indeed, that you, lord Tyrion Lannister and me are a good match.
Belive me, dear reader, I didn't see a hint of disgust or concern on her face, but I was sure that the best course of action was not to comment this statement.
- Will we go, my lady? – I said in a hoarse voice. I cleared my throat and looked at her calmly, as if nothing had happened. – My brother is waiting for me a mile or so from here, we haven't officially greated our hosts yet.
- Of course, my lord. – "If you prefer, may it be so." - said her eyes.
We headed towards the path to the castle.
- Lord Tyrion, was Lann the Wise tall? – she asked out of the blue.
- Why are you asking, my lady?
- Oh, for no reason! Just ballads are silent about it. - I changed the subject immediately. - Well, I feel sorry for poor Loras, but maybe it will be better this way? So how are you going to get Sansa for your brother and whose idea was that?
- I will surprise you, my lady, he came up with it himself.
- You, the sons of Old Lion, are definitely underestimated. He'll spin Sansa around one of those beautiful, long fingers, right? Just what will happen if Lord and Lady refuse?
- Oh, believe me, we've got an ace up our sleeve. - I replied dryly, in a tone that cut off the discussion.
- What about Ramsay?
- I'm afraid it can't go without a duel.
- Ramsay can't be challenged. He's too smart for that. He rather won't poison you, it's not his style, but beware of him. Folks and some lords say he killed Domeric. You could try to prove it, but somehow I don't see the possibility. I would also advise against anyone sending a spy to Dreadfort. We have to think about it, but in the meantime you need to welcome the hosts.
- That's very nice, my lady.
- What is nice?
- This "us." Why do you want to help me?
- Consider it a fad of a bored noblewoman. – clearly it was her turn to change the subject. - Leave it! Tell me which dance is popular at the court now?
- Ah, my sweet friend, you won't belive it!
- Try me!
- Neither more nor less – VOLTA!
- You've got to be kidding lord Tyrion! Pray tell, how does all these old ladies manage with that?
- They pretend they don't watch and doing a poor work with that! As for my sister, she forbided Myrcella AND Tommen to dance it until their fifteenth nameday!
Everything happened three days before the Feast of Souls, when trouble literally came out of the earth.