BARBARIC. Margaery Tyrell

007

Margaery sat around the campfire, wrapped in her large blankets and coats in the morning sun, watching as one of her guarding companions cooked breakfast, the smell of bacon and eggs alluring everyone out of the tents. She thanked them as he passed her plate, placing it over her lap as she picked at the food, her manners forgotten as she hadn't dined at a table in some time.

She remembered the previous night in bed with her husband, the ache between her thighs, and the bruises on her neck, and blushed as she looked down. The men did well to keep their conversations about what they wake up to at night in their tents to themselves; instead, they would only knowingly smile at one another and immediately stop when Dayron was around out of respect. 

Margaery didn't mind because she was from Highgarden, where everyone talked about one another, and she even enjoyed gossiping but she enjoyed seeing Dayron jealous even more.

As they passed her to retrieve a plate, she felt a protective hand touch her shoulder. She smiled up at her husband, who was always tentative toward her. She blushed even more when he sat next to her on the log and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. 

"Saw anything last night?" Dayron asked one of the men, since he had been absent throughout the night. "Not much; we did hear a pack of dogs, there must be a hunting party nearby," they replied, shaking their heads and shrugging. Dayron's brows furrowed as he thought before continuing to eat.

>>

It was at the edge of the clearing, where the tents had previously been, but had now been stored for another time. As the men prepared the horses, she hummed to herself. She is so beautiful, Dayron thought to himself as he smiled and adjusted his saddle. Being such a woman as she was not what he deserved. She ought to have been married to a king, not a lord's son.

Margaery fiddled idly with the huge fur of her cloak as she tucked stray hair strands behind her ear. reflecting on her time on the journey. She was beginning to develop a deep admiration for the North and its customs. She dove to the ground as she heard the sound of swords being drawn out of their sheaths, but she did not feel anything nick her ear as it swiftly sped by like the wind.

She turned her head to see an arrow planted in the tree behind her, shocked. She heard a scream as the dogs' barking could be heard around the clearing. Screaming for Bloody Mary, a young woman emerged from the bushes with her dress in shreds and her hair short. The woman came to a complete halt while glancing over the armoured men and fainting straight forwards. Margaery, out of instinct, ran over despite hearing Dayron scream her name and pull the girl towards her, overlooking the large bruise on her forehead. A large pack of hounds approached Margaery in the same direction as the girl and growled at her as drooling and froth poured out of their mouths, and they looked angrily. Dayron raced forward, preparing to slash the dogs' skulls with his sword.

Someone cried out, "Come on, guys! Do we have her?" The sound of a woman's voice could be heard. A man and a lady emerged from the undergrowth as a pair. The girl with reddish brown hair smiled alongside him, the man with black hair that reached his shoulders and a pale face. Their smiling faces fell at the sight of Dayron and Margaery, and the dogs returned to their sides. The man kneeled lowly, "My lord stark."

Dayron recognised the face of "Ramsay Snow, Lord Roose's bastard," and Ramsay's brows twitched at the name. The lady beside him quickly followed him by kneeling. 

"I am so sorry to frighten you with the dogs, my lady; they are merely hungry." Something disturbed Margaery about his tone of voice and his smirk as he finished the sentence. She looked back down at the woman in her arms. Ramsay set his bow and arrow aside as he raised his head. As Dayron informed them, his voice still tinged with perplexity and rage: "You may stand." He demanded to know, "You nearly murdered my wife. What are you doing out here?"

The girl responded, her sneer matching his evilness, "The girl took food from my room, we were simply executing justice."

"Take us to Dreadfort and we'll settle this out there," Margaery said, brushing the girl's hair in her lap off of her face.

>>

Margaery stood in the rooms given to them by the Lord of the Dreadfort. It felt strange to be surrounded by stone walls for the first time in weeks, especially after spending them in tents and the wilderness. She ran her hands down her waist, feeling the material of the dress Lord Roose's servants gave her.

The heavy pink fabric looked alright with Margaery's complexion; she's definitely been in better-looking skirts. She looked behind her at the woman who was called Myranda, Ramsay's lover. When the two women's eyes met, she was in the middle of changing the bed linens and fluffing the pillows.

"Why were you hunting that girl?" Margaery inquired as she approached her, her gaze drawn away from the mirror. Myranda responded with a sly grin on her lips, "She was the daughter of the previous cook; she stole from Lord Snow; she shouldn't have done that; she had to be punished." There are other ways to carry out justice besides hunting her with dogs, Margeary thought as she ruffled her brows and stared at the girl with concern.

"They will be waiting for you Lady Stark, you should go down," Myranda advised. Before leaving, she bowed. Margaery very much disliked it here. Margaery murmured a thank you before turning back to face the mirror and draping her hair over her shoulders. She exited the room and descended the stairs to the dining hall.

The hall was lit up by candles all over. The maester bowed as he noticed her arrival, and Dayron sat at the table next to Lord Roose, conversing with him. Margaery sat down at the table, nodding towards Dayron, who smiled back. 

"Thank you, Lord Bolton; your servants have been most gracious and welcoming," Margaery told Lord Bolton. "I'm glad you think so, lady Stark," Lord Roose responded with a small smirk. "We were unprepared for your and Lord Stark's visit," Something was off about him, and Margaery didn't like it. Like his son.

"It's a good thing Ramsay found you when he did," he said, adding, "Ramsay enjoys hunting as much as he does archery." Margaery and Dayron exchanged glances. What they saw wasn't right; that poor girl was terrified. "My lord, we were going to visit you anyway because my lady and I are visiting the lords of the North; we've also come with a proposition for you," Dayron explained, grabbing his tankard and taking a sip.

Hearing the word "proposition," Roose Bolton leaned forward, his ears perking up. The maester walked forward and stood behind Lord Bolton, ready to give his advice. "We are requesting that every lord send men to take the black; the wildlings have figured out a way to get over the wall," Dayron explained. Roose Bolton appeared disinterested for a brief moment. "Is that all?" he inquired. Margaery and Dayron both nodded. "I'd have to think about it, Lord Stark. The wall is not an easy task." Roose said as he twirled his knife on his plate.

Writer's notes: Roose Bolton is one scary mf. Margaery is smart to know not to trust them. I have some drama planned...