Lady Margaery Tyrell
The court was prepared for war it seemed, the order had gone out from the King that all able-bodied men had to be ready to fight at a moment's notice, therefore the gaiety and the celebratory mood that had pervaded through the court during the initial months of her stay had changed. Replaced with a serious and a more determined atmosphere. It was an interesting thing to observe for Margaery seeing men who had previously been whoring and drinking, and enjoying their youth now making themselves get into shape. The taverns had seen a drop-in business, according to her cousin Garth, and the whore houses had stopped serving by order of the King. The King was the person she was seeing now, well, they were walking together, and Margaery could not deny that she was nervous. The King was handsome, his black hair was cut short, he had the beginnings of a beard on his chin, and his eyes were alert and attentive.
"How are you finding King's Landing, my lady? I apologise for not being able to walk with you before now, but there was much that needed to be done." The King said.
They were walking arm in arm. "That is perfectly okay, Sire." Margaery replied honestly, she had spoken to Quentyn before this and he'd given her an indication of how the King was, and what he preferred to talk about. "I am enjoying court, there are a lot of things to do here and a lot of people to meet and things to see. It has been a very enlightening experience."
The King said nothing for a moment, they kept walking, Margaery was aware that Ser Barristan and Loras were walking behind them, not far enough to be of no use should something happen, but far enough to ensure that they were not intruding. Her brother had preened when he'd been handed a white cloak, though he grumbled about not being able to spend so much time with Rely now. The King broke the silence. "Is it very different to the events that happen at Highgarden? I have been told by Ser Loras that there is a lot of colour and celebration at Highgarden, and that there are jesters, dwarves, singing and merriment almost constantly, is this true?" The King sounded almost wistful and Margaery had to remind herself that the King had grown up firstly at court, and then from the age of eight at Oldstones, where he had been trained a warrior. It was only natural that he should wish for something he would have felt denied.
Choosing her words carefully, she said. "I think my brother might have exaggerated slightly." Loras did not like the King, Margaery knew that, she knew he did not appreciate the deserved dressing down that the King had given him and Rely for their behaviour during the rebellion of the Florents. Still he served. "I think he was trying to get some ill-conceived point across to you Sire, and I ask that you forgive him for doing so."
The King laughed and Margaery found that she liked the sound. "Ah, so he is still quite annoyed with me over the dressing down I gave him then is he?" Margaery nodded and the King laughed again, it was a deep bellowing laugh. "I thought as much. I would have thought being given a white cloak would have satisfied some of that disappointment or disapproval. After all, and I hope you do not mind me saying this, but your brother's vanity is well known."
Margaery laughed as well. "I agree, Sire. My brother is quite vain; he is a good swordsman but he does not think that often before he speaks or acts. It is a failing of his, that is quite common with my father. I think that is perhaps why they get on so well." There had been times growing up where Margaery had been angry at her father for the preference he gave to her and Loras, she understood that she was his only daughter and therefore likely to get some preference, but Willas was far smarter than Loras or Garlan or her or even grandmother. He was a hard worker and he was father's heir, but because of his injury he was not taken seriously by father.
It seemed as though the King could hear her thoughts, for he then asked her. "What is your brother, Ser Willas like? I have heard from your grandmother that he is quite smart, and I know he keeps in contact with Ser Oberyn. That is quite unusual in itself."
"Willas does not hold Ser Oberyn responsible for the accident that cost him his freedom of movement with his leg. He knows that the horse was ill prepared and that he too was not ready to compete, that he only competed because he wished to impress father. But he is very smart, he is very well read and knows the political situation of the Reach far better than even my grandmother." Margaery said.
The King stopped walking and so did she, he looked at her intently, and for a moment Margaery wondered why that was, had she said something wrong? "Your father is a hard man to please, is he?" Margaery was not sure what to say, she did not dislike father, but she did not like him as she did mother, she could not relate to him, and he could not relate to her beyond the fact she was his only daughter.
"I… he… he is a kind man and he wants the best for the family, but there are times where perhaps that is not always the thing he thinks it is." Margaery answered truthfully, out the corner of her eye she could see Loras looking at her as if she'd gone mad.
The King nodded. "Tell me truthfully, do you wish to marry me? I know we are betrothed, but betrothals can be broken, if there is someone else you would rather wed, you need only tell me, Lady Margaery."
Margaery felt a lump of panic develop, she took a breath, forced down the lump and replied. "I would like to get to know you before making any decision, Sire."
The King nodded. "As would I." they kept walking and Margaery wondered whether that would be possible with everything that was happening.
Lord Eddard Stark
They had received word from Benjen, the wildlings had been sighted somewhere north of the wall, though the letter was no doubt old, Ned had summoned the banners, Bolton, Karstark, Glover, Mormont, the mountain clans and Umber, some ten thousand men in total had come to Winterfell or met them on the way to Castle Black. Ned had informed the lords of what they were going to fight and what they could expect, surprisingly only Bolton had not been surprised and Ned wondered at that, but for now there was no time to consider other implications of such a thing. They had arrived at Castle Black some three days ago, and there had been limited movement from the wildlings beyond the wall, there had been some skirmishes behind it with a force led by a big bear of a man, whose name had been Tormund. That host and that man had been killed, but there were more beyond the wall, and they were all waiting for them and whatever else might come.
They were all gathered in the lord's solar in Castle Black, Benjen had grown an even longer beard, and his hair was a straggly mess, he looked as if he'd seen several ghosts, truth be told, as he looked around the room, Ned thought they all had. He could not blame them though, after all the sight of bodies rising due to not being burned, would scar anyone. Ned eventually cleared his throat and spoke. "We know that the true threat is still out there, the dead are being controlled by something or someone and we need more answers. Of course the scouting party you sent out beyond the wall has not yet returned, Lord Commander and it would be foolish in this current climate to send more men out there looking for them. Therefore, we are at an impasse. We cannot just stand here and do nothing, but we also cannot risk losing more lives. What we need is information about what we are facing right now." He gestured loosely outside. "We know there is a wildling host of great size approaching us. We know that the party we fought under Tormund Giantsbane was just the beginning. That there are more than fifty thousand of them all gathered under Mance Rayder. The King was explicit in his command, we cannot allow them to gather beyond the wall regardless of who or what they bring with them. For whoever is forcing them to flee will no doubt be following them."
"So, what are we to do, my lord?" Lord Umber asked. "Are we to merely sit here waiting for the fight to come to us? Are we to sit here and twiddle our thumbs whilst others fight and die out there beyond the wall? There are dead things coming to life, and whilst I agree that we need to know more about them. The old maester is half blind and his assistants have not found anything, therefore how are we to find out anything through traditional means? We must find out information through capturing someone who would know where this whole thing is going. And I think the only people who would do that are those with the Weeper."
Benjen answered that. "You leave Castle Black or any of the castles along the wall, to try and find the Weeper and his men and you will not return. That man does not care who is who, or who fights for who, he will gut you and your entire army."
The Greatjon seemed to disbelieve this. "How can one man enact such a brutal thing over a host of one thousand two hundred men? What is he some sort of God?" the Greatjon was a man who had grown up fighting wildlings whenever they crossed the wall, he and the entire House Umber made their living killing wildlings and ensuring that they did not affect the fur trade that the north had going with Lorath and other free cities.
"The land beyond the wall is different to anything any of you are used to, my lord. It is at turns rugged, desert and barren, and at others, filled with plenty and filled with greenery and snow. The Weeper knows this land and he knows precisely how to use it to his advantage, he would make five men seem like five hundred men by using the land if needed. We need to stay put within the confines of our own needs. We cannot simply branch out because we have not found an immediate solution to the problem facing us."
The Greatjon snorted, but remained quiet, indeed it was Lord Bolton who spoke in his soft voice. "I think that perhaps we are agreed that the time for direct action has not yet come. To leave the wall for the lands beyond it right now, with one hundred thousand wildlings marching toward us would be madness. We can and should use the wall as a natural defence with which to break the wildlings. They cannot break through a six hundred foot structure of ice and we now know how they will try to get over it. We can be prepared."
"Lord Bolton is correct. We do not have the means to go off looking for things now, we must consolidate what we have here, and ensure that it does not stray too far from what we are expecting." Ned said.
As Benjen went to speak, a horn sounded. "Awhooooo." Riders returning. Benjen got up. Then the horn sounded again. "Awhooooo." Wildlings, they all got up and walked out of the solar down the steps and into the courtyard, where Bowen Marsh the steward said.
"Wildlings, they've brought more." Ned joined his brother in the winch cage and as they got off onto the wall, Ned saw something he thought he'd never see. There were hordes of wildlings moving as one slow monstrosity, moving and shaking and quivering, and big blurs moving with them.
Benjen swore. "Giants, they brought fucking giants."