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Sitting up tall in his saddle, or as tall as the saddle contraption that held him in place would allow, Tyrion Lannister did his best to keep himself from marveling at the sights around him as he, his Uncle Gerion and the contingent of Lannister men who were in formation around the small carriage containing his cousin Joy made their way through the large double walls that served to protect Winterfell under the midday sun. While he certainly did not consider himself the best military mind in the realm, he could and did appreciate fine works. Casterly Rock, his home, had never been impregnated by an invading force due to its strategic placement and the death trap that was the Lion's Maw that led into the Rock. But Winterfell, despite not having the most defensive placement in the land, was perhaps just as impregnable with the double high walls and separating moat. 'If only they could add a bit more color to the place,' he thought, trying to find any imperfection in the wonder that was Winterfell. 'I know House's prefer to keep after their House colors. But the wolves take white and grey. Such dull colors. Though I suppose it also fits with the temperament of the North.'
Making their way through the closely placed buildings that made up Winterfell, Tyrion found himself taking a breath to steady his racing heart as the main keep came into view. Though he couldn't help but be…disappointed and elated at what he found waiting for them in the yard before the keep. The disappointment stemmed from the fact that it appeared that no members of House Stark deemed to greet them upon their arrival. Lord Stark was no doubt holding court given the time of day, so his absence was understandable. But neither his heir, nor his other children were present. Some would see such a move as a slight, his father certainly being chief among them, but Tyrion figured that the children more than likely had lessons and were not able to greet them. But while he was disappointed at the lack of a Stark greeting, he certainly was not disappointed in the woman who stood before a dozen Stark guards to greet them.
Tyrion had been with more women in his lifetime than perhaps anyone else in the realm save for the king himself, so it was safe to say that he had a good eye for beautiful women. And the woman who stood before them was certainly one of the more beautiful he had ever seen. Her dress, while simple, hugged her curves in all the right places showing off her almost perfect form. Her face was flawless, and heart shaped with long dark hair that was braided elegantly and strung over one of her shoulders. And the only piece of jewelry she had on her was a single wolf broach that was pinned on her chest. 'It is far too soon for Lord Stark to have married once more,' Tyrion thought as his uncle urged his horse slightly ahead of Tyrion so he could take charge of the introductions. 'A high-ranking servant perhaps? Whoever she is…her beauty is remarkable. Perhaps a fair bit of gold might encourage her to my chambers for a night?'
But before the Lannister's could dismount and introduce themselves, the mysterious beauty beat them to the point. "Lord Gerion Lannister, Lord Tyrion Lannister. I am Lady Nyra Nox, Stewardess of Winterfell and Lady wife to the Northern Sorcerer, Lord Alim Nox.. Lord Stark apologizes for not greeting you in person but matters of the North have taken his time as of late and his children are currently in lessons with my husband, Lord Nox."
The fantasy that'd been running through his mind of taking this beauty to his chambers came to a screeching halt as her name and title reached him. 'She…She is the former serving girl who became the wife of the sorcerer?!' Tyrion thought, desperately trying to curb any inappropriate fantasy he might've had about the woman as his uncle dismounted his horse. 'I can see why the sorcerer went for her. Even though she was low born, her beauty is not something one finds every day. And from what little dealings we've had with the North and her through ravens, her mind matches her beauty. Damn it all to the Seven hells. Why do the perfect women always go for someone else? Oh, right. Dwarf.'
Undoing his legs from the harness holding him in place, Tyrion swung his legs over his saddle and expertly dismounted despite the long drop down to the ground. At least, long for him. "Lady Nox," his uncle greeted the woman as another guard opened the carriage door to help Joy dismount. "Your husband often told us tales of you on our return from Valyria. And may I say…his tales were, if anything, understating your beauty."
Lady Nyra smiled, a smile that made her even more beautiful and tempting. 'No! Stop Tyrion! No thoughts like that about her! Last I need is a jealous sorcerer on my ass for thinking about his woman!' "I thank you for your words, Lord Gerion. But I know such platitudes are expected for any woman of rank you meet. Even if she has the face that would put even a pig's ass to shame."
'And she has the wit to match her mind and her beauty! Gods damn it all the Seven hells! She's perfect! And taken!'
"Aye, they are," his uncle smirked, beckoning Joy and Tyrion forward to join him. "But in your case, they are more than true, my Lady. Now, if we have such empty platitudes out of the way, allow me to introduce my nephew, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and my daughter, Joy Lannister."
Lady Nox gave Joy a smile and a warm greeting before turning her attention to Tyrion. He expected her to react as almost all women, save for those he paid, to react to his presence. But, instead, she just smiled at him and greeted him warmly. "Lord Tyrion. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I do hope the journey here was not too difficult?"
"Not at all, my Lady. But whatever difficulties there might have been were worth it to see your beauty in person." 'Damn it all, Tyrion! Stop trying to get under her dress! The Sorcerer! Remember she belongs to the Sorcerer and save yourself some pain for once!'
Her smile never left her face as she turned her attention back to Gerion and Joy. "As I said, Lord Stark is currently dealing with matters of the North and regrets that he is not here to greet you in person. But should you wish, I can either bring you to your assigned rooms or I can bring you directly to my husband who is currently training his acolytes."
It was all Tyrion could do to keep his mouth shut. A chance to watch the sorcerer's training methods?! Many a lord, his father included, would kill for the opportunity. And it was one that he couldn't afford to pass up. He'd have to write down what he saw the moment he got back to his room while it was still fresh in his mind, but it was an opportunity that House Lannister could not pass up.
Perhaps fortunately, his uncle spoke up first but with an entirely different reasoning behind his choice. "I would prefer to watch Nox's training, especially seeing as how there is a chance my daughter will soon be added to his list of acolytes for a time."
"Understandable," Lady Nox nodded before stepping aside and sweeping her arm across her body to point towards the largest tower within the walls of Winterfell. "Then please follow me, I will lead you to my husband's training grounds."
As they walked, Tyrion did all he could to try and calm his racing heart. He was about to meet the sorcerer himself! A practitioner of actual magic! Not just sleight of hand tricks that fools like to perform to amaze an audience. He could hear a steady thumbing in his ears, which he first thought to be his heart. As they rounded another building and came into view of the base of the tower, he found himself mistaken. The thumbing wasn't his heart, rather the steady knocking of training swords against one another. Yet it wasn't the training that caused the brief faltering of Tyrion's steps. But rather the who that was practicing.
There were four boys of varying age that were lined up and practicing their sword strikes against an opponent just as he'd seen Jamie and the men at arms in Casterly Rock do countless times. But what was surprising was the fact that their opponents were…well…girls. Young girls. So young that the one he assumed to be the eldest with long braided red hair looked to be only a few years older than young Joy at best. And if that wasn't surprising enough, then the fact that one of the girls, the smallest, was going against two of the boys…and winning, if he were to be any judge of it. While he was all for the empowerment of women, the idea that a young girl would not only be practicing the blade but also be good enough to hold her own against two boys her age and older was just…gods. If the sorcerer could bring out such skill in a young girl like that, then what could he do with a boy? Or better yet, just how much was Joy going to change from the shy little timid thing she now was? 'The Stark children. And one of the girls must be Stannis's daughter Shireen. Which means that one of the young men is one of the smallfolks the sorcerer had taken an interest in when he was in King's Landing.'
"Hold. Sansa. You need to keep your grip tighter. If Jon were to put some weight behind his strikes, your sword would be on the ground. Jon, stop holding back. You do your sister no good if you coddle her all the time."
Tyrion heard the names and immediately placed them as the eldest Stark girl and the Stark bastard that his father had his eyes on as the best target to acquire. But he did not focus on them as his eyes sought not those who were mentioned, but rather the one who was doing the talking. And the moment he did he felt his heart hammer and the breath freeze in his lungs. The sorcerer was a tall man with straight silver-white hair that was pulled back and tied together at the base of his neck, a black cloth covered his eyes and went through his hair, and he was certainly a comely enough man just as the bards' sang. But all that together wasn't what gave Tyrion pause. It was the aura. The man radiated an aura that demanded he be respected and listened to, even more so than Tyrion's own father. And for just the briefest of moments, Tyrion had the fantasy of seeing his father and the sorcerer square off against one another, only for his father to end up pissing his boots.
"—break for now. Then Jon will lead you lot through midday exercises before your lessons with Lady Bethany and Luwin."
Tyrion started to question whether the man was truly blind as he turned on his heel and marched directly towards their small group while easily stepping over or sidestepping any obstacle in his path. 'So, the rumors are true. He uses his magic to see where his eyes cannot.'
"Gerion, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," the sorcerer greeted his uncle while reaching out his hand towards them. "It seems that you have managed to recover completely from your ordeal in Valyria."
"It wasn't the easiest road to travel, but it is thanks to you that I was even given a chance to in the first place," his uncle greeted the sorcerer back, grasping his arm as if they were old friends. "You have my condolences, Nox, and you as well Lady Nox, on the loss of your child at the hands of those traitors. Had I been here, Nox, I would've been right by your side helping you punish those responsible."
It may have just been a trick, or perhaps a cold breeze, but Tyrion felt for the briefest of moments the air seemed to grow so cold to the point it was almost suffocating. 'That was…What was that?' "Your condolences are appreciated, Gerion," the sorcerer nodded, his face remaining completely devoid of any emotion, though with that cloth covering a good portion of his face it was difficult to get any type of read on the man. "And I take it that these two are your nephew Tyrion and your daughter Joy?"
"Aye," his uncle nodded, motioned for Tyrion and Joy to step up. "This is my brother's youngest son, Tyrion Lannister. And this little ray of sunshine is my own daughter, Joy Lannister."
"I–It is an honor to meet you, my lord," Joy stuttered slightly while curtseying to the sorcerer.
For his part, it was all Tyrion could do to keep his excitement out of his voice as he took his turn in greeting the man he'd been waiting to meet for years. "Lord Nox, it is…It is an honor to meet one such as yourself."
Even though it was impossible to tell where the sorcerer's eyes were pointing, for some reason Tyrion just knew that the man was looking directly at him. "Tyrion Lannister, your reputation precedes you."
"Oh? Have tales of my prowess and conquest in brothels reached all the way to the North? I'm flattered." Tyrion smirked, trying to keep his tone light and jovial.
Which was an utter and complete failure as the sorcerer just continued to stare at him. "I was referring to your love of books and the few interactions you've had with my wife via ravens. But if you prefer to be known here in the North as a whoremonger, then I won't stop you. Just know that value of the latter is much diminished compared to the former here in the North and in my eye."
Tyrion could do little more than curse his wit for potentially ruining his first impression on the sorcerer as said man turned his attention away from himself and onto Joy. "And you, young lady…Hmmm, yes. You are your father's daughter." Tyrion had absolutely no idea what was going on, and given his little slip earlier, he decided for now to keep his quiet as the sorcerer raised his hand and held his palm out a few hand lengths from Joy's face.
"Well, Nox?" his uncle asked after a few moments of silence. "Does she…?"
"She does," Nox nodded, lowering his hand. "Your daughter is Force sensitive. Perhaps not the strongest I've ever come across. But should she have the will and the drive to succeed, then in time she will become a force to be reckoned with."
Tyrion didn't need to look up at his uncle to know that he was beaming with pride. And while Tyrion did feel elated for his cousin, he still couldn't help the slight pain of regret that swelled within him as well. Now that it was confirmed that Joy had the same power as the sorcerer, that just meant that she would be even more involved in whatever scheme his father had in mind to increase the standing of House Lannister.
"You…You mean that I am like you, my lord? I–I can use magic too?" Joy's voice was full of wonder and joy. He hated the day that would come soon when the truth would be revealed to her and her joy would fade.
"Aye, you do, young lady," the sorcerer said, squatting down so that the two were on level with one another. "But I will tell you now, it is not an easy path to walk. And many before you have faltered and failed. I will push you to the point of breaking and then force you to go beyond. There will be days where you will curse my very existence and the day that your father brought you here to me to be trained. There will be days where you will be unable to lift your arms due to exhaustion or pain, but I will make you continue regardless. And at the end, when I have deemed you have learned the basics, I will have turned you into a being that even the Mountain-Who-Rides will be wary of. Do you understand, girl?"
Joy was clearly not expecting that as fear began to show on her face. But after Gerion put his hand on her shoulder, the fear disappeared, and a look of determination came over her face. "I can…and I will, my Lo – my Master."
The sorcerer's lips twitched. "We will see. Arya!"
"Yes, Master!"
The younger girl, the one that'd been sparring against two boys, separated herself from the other children and ran over to where they were standing. 'This is the other Stark girl?' Tyrion thought, giving the girl a once over. 'She certainly has the Stark look to her. And she seems to be taking to this training far better than her elder sister. Something to keep in mind, I guess.'
"This is Joy Lannister," Nox said, introducing Tyrion's young cousin. "She will be joining us in our training from here on out. Show her to her rooms in the Tower next to Shireen's. Then have her get changed and come back down immediately to rejoin the others."
Joy went wide eyed, as did Tyrion. Though, Gerion seemed like he expected it. "Umm, not to judge your training methods, sorcerer," he said, trying to let the sorcerer give his cousin sometime to rest after such a long journey. "But we have just traveled nonstop from Casterly Rock. My bottom has taken the shape of a saddle and I'm sure that—"
The words died on his lips as he once again felt the sorcerer's invisible eyes fall upon him. "It–It's okay," Joy said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "I – I can do this. I will do this."
"Good, keep that mentality, girl. You're going to need it," the sorcerer stated as he rose to his full height. "Now, get going. I have little patience to begin with. And even less with my acolytes."
Joy gave the sorcerer one last curtsey before hurrying off after the youngest Stark girl without question. "Nox," Gerion said lowly as Joy disappeared into the tower with the Stark girl. "I – I understand what you are hoping to accomplish. But, as a father, I—"
"I understand," Nox countered, cutting Tyrion's uncle off. "You believe that she has limits. But if she is to truly become a Sith, a Force Adept, then she will have to learn to leave those limits behind. And the process to do so is…not pleasant. Though in comparison what I went through to become what I am was hell compared to what I'm putting my acolytes through. But still, there is a reason why Stark does not frequently watch his children train under my guidance. But just know that while my training might seem torturous to many, there is a reason for everything that I do."
Gerion still looked uneasy, but he nodded his acceptance. "I owe you much, sorcerer. The least I can give you is my trust in training my daughter. But I hope you understand that I will be staying for a time to make sure that she is doing alright under your tutelage."
"We expected nothing less, Lord Lannister," Lady Nox interjected for her husband. "Rooms within the guest hall have been prepared for the both of you. If you will please follow me, I will show you to your rooms and send some servants to see to whatever needs you might have."
"Thank you, Lady Nox," Gerion bowed, and sensing the dismissal Tyrion followed suit.
But just as they were turning to leave, the sorcerer called out to him specifically, "Lord Tyrion." Stopping, his heart thundering in his chest and praying to whatever gods might be listening that the man hadn't heard his wanton thoughts about his wife, Tyrion turned back towards perhaps the most feared man in all the Seven Kingdoms. "I understand that you are quite the learned man and enjoy books. Perhaps just as much as you enjoy women and wine if the stories of you are true. The Winterfell library and my own personal library within the tower are yours to enjoy while you are here. And if you wish for quiet as you read, I suggest that you visit my personal library at this time of day when I and my acolytes are in the midst of our daily training."
Swallowing, and feeling like he'd just dodged the headsman's axe, Tyrion nodded. "I will take you up on your offer, Lord Sorcerer. I look forward to perhaps seeing some of what you brought back from Valyria."
Not wanting to press his luck further for the day, Tyrion quickly turned tail and made to catch up with Lady Nox and his uncle as fast as his legs could carry him. 'Not the best introduction ever. But it was still an introduction. Now I just need to start mapping out how the sorcerer has managed to turn the North from a barren wasteland into a prosperous region in less than a decade while not stepping too far out of line that the sorcerer feels inclined to shorten me by a head… No pressure.'
Letting the cool night air of the North wash over him, Ned Stark stared out into the night sky, his eyes tracking from one star to the next as his mind raced. 'How does one come to terms with learning what I have learned?' he pondered, frowning as the same question ran through his mind that'd been plaguing him night and day since Nox revealed the truth of his origins to Ned, his sons, and Nyra. 'How does one just accept the fact that life as one knows it is but just a single grain of sand amongst a desert that is the…galaxy? The fact that there are more planets with life out there, that there are more types of intelligent beings out there than there are people in the North. And then the fact that Nox wasn't just a ruling member of a single world, because that wasn't enough. No. Nox was in fact a ruling member of an Empire that spanned dozens perhaps hundreds of worlds just like this one. How does one come to an acceptance of these facts?'
Shaking his head, Ned did his best to try and force such thoughts from his mind. Nox's revelations were amazing and frightening. But as the man had said, it was more than likely that neither his Empire nor their adversaries the Republic would ever find this world. And if they did, then Nox would do everything in his ability to protect this world and it's people from what and who was out there. So, for now, there was no reason to worry about what might happen. There were plenty of problems that were happening. And some of them far too close to home for his liking.
The most pressing issue was one that he had been informed of after returning from the south. A good number of those that were still loyal to the now disgraced and exiled Northern Houses of Bolton, Ryswell, and Whitehill had abandoned their duties and honor and had gone brigand. He'd sent out ravens calling for the men to be brought to justice, but these were no ordinary bandits looking to make quick coin by praying on travelers. These were experienced men of the North. His Lords had sent out hundreds of men trying to find them, but it was like trying to find one of Sansa's needles in a haystack. Even the Wolf Rangers had been unable to find them. Though they were able to determine that the brigands were apparently staying close to the King's Road somewhere between Winterfell and White Harbor. Which, while it narrowed down his field of search, was still several hundred miles of road and surrounding land to search. Not the easiest of tasks. But it was one that was extremely necessary considering he'd received word from Howland and Wyman that the Martells and the Tyrells had crossed into the North and were now making their way along the King's Road towards Winterfell. While he was confident that both Houses would bring enough to defend themselves, any harm that fell upon them would be placed on his shoulders. And he had enough weight on them as it were dealing with the normal issues of the North, Lannisters in his hall, and waiting for word from the Night's Watch about his overtures to the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Hearing a knock, Ned didn't need to ask who was at his door at this hour as he'd summoned him just a short time ago. "Come in, Jon."
The door to his room opened, allowing his son in all but blood to enter. "You wished to see me, father?" Jon asked as the door shut silently behind him.
"Aye," Ned nodded, hating that he was having to resort to this. But Jon was no longer a boy. And he was the best option he had short of sending Nox himself out. "Lord Cerywn sent a raven stating that his men have found traces of the brigands making camps along the King's Road between Winterfell and White Harbor. No doubt hoping to disrupt trade between us. And while this is concerning and must be dealt with, we have another issue that has arisen because of their suspected placement. Word has reached us that both the Tyrells and the Martells have entered the North and are traveling along the King's Road towards Winterfell."
Jon caught on quickly as his eyes widened in understanding. "We have to send word."
"Aye," Ned nodded. "Lord Manderly has already warned Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne about the danger. They are proceeding North in the accompaniment of Asher Forrester and the freed men and women sent over from Essos by Domeric. But we have been unable to send word easily to the Tyrells. There is a chance that the two groups will cross each other on the King's Road, but it is a chance that I am not willing to take. Therefore, on the morrow I am sending out all the Wolf Rangers we have currently in Winterfell south along the King's Road to ensure their safety. And I want you to lead them. Your abilities to track using the Force proved invaluable when I sent you out last time with the Rangers to hunt down the sellswords from Essos. I want you to use those same abilities to make sure that our guests arrive here safely."
Ned felt a surge of pride fill him, as well as sorrow, as Jon didn't even hesitate before nodding. "Yes, father. I will do you proud, I swear it."
Smiling, Ned placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "You already do, son. And I know that your mother would be proud of the man that you have become."
Jon's eyes moistened at the mention of his mother, a topic that, despite now being known between them, was one that was still rarely spoken of aloud. "Thank you, father," Jon nodded, clearly fighting back the emotions warring within him as he kept himself together. "Do we have any idea about how many have turned brigand?"
"Unfortunately, no." Ned answered honestly. "Our best estimate puts their number between fifty and one-hundred. Even with all the Rangers currently in Winterfell, you will be outnumbered. But I trust in both you and the rangers to be able to handle the brigands without issue."
"Of course, father. We will handle these brigands quickly." Jon stated. It wasn't a boast, he knew his son well enough to know that he didn't boast. He was simply stating a fact.
"Good," Ned nodded, "then get some rest tonight. You'll be heading out at first light with the Rangers to bring justice to these brigands who dare defy the laws of the North."
Watching the scenery pass her by from within the comforts of her carriage, Margaery Tyrell of House Tyrell marveled at the beauty of the land. A beauty she honestly did not expect given the general view of the North that was held by most of the noble houses south of the Neck. This wasn't a land of barbarians and bloodthirsty, godless heathens. It was a land just like any other. It was wild and untamed to be sure. And the morning chill was often cold enough so that she could see her breath on the air. But it was still beautiful in its own right. "House Manderly. What is their importance to the North?"
Turning her attention away from the landscape, Margaery refocused herself and turned back to the other two occupants of the carriage she was riding in. Her grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell, the 'Queen of Thorns', was staring at her expectantly as she waited for Margaery to answer her question. The other occupant, her eldest brother Willias, was also staring at her as he waited for what she had to say.
"House Manderly claims the city of White Harbor as their own and hold their seat within New Castle. And have done so since their house was forcefully removed from the Reach by the Gardener Kings several centuries before the arrival of the Targaryen's. As they control White Harbor, they hold a substantial number of ships which are used for both trade with Essos and other kingdoms within the Seven Kingdoms. Their current Lord is Lord Wyman Manderly and they are staunch supporters of House Stark and their loyalty is without question. They are also perhaps the richest House, besides House Stark, in the North and the city of White Harbor is perhaps the fifth most populous city in all of Westeros."
This had been the norm for both her brother and herself ever since they'd left Highgarden. Their grandmother would pass the time by quizzing them both on matters related to Houses and politics around the realm with an emphasis on those related to the North. And while Margaery was still young, almost four-and-ten namedays, she knew exactly what her grandmother doing and why she was doing it. Her House, just like any other House, was a very active player in the Game. And their end goal, just like any other House, was to see her as the next Queen of Westeros.
But unlike most of the other Houses or Highborn girls throughout the realm, Margaery didn't want to become queen just so that she could have the title. No. She had goals and ambitions. Things she wanted to see done that she couldn't do as just a Highborn Lady of a Great House. She didn't want to just be a Queen that sat back and basked in her power and did nothing. She wanted to reach out and help those who needed help the most. She didn't want to just be another queen in Westeros's history. She wanted to be remembered along the likes of Queen Rhaenys, Queen Visenya and Good Queen Alysanne by the time her end came. But before that could happen, she had to become queen first. Which was why her and her family were currently riding across Westeros to speak personally with the eldest family in all of the lands.
The Starks held much sway in the land, perhaps more so than they even realized. Lord Eddard Stark was brothers in all but blood with the current King. And perhaps just as importantly, the Starks held the loyalty of the Northern Sorcerer. A loyalty that seemed to be absolute now that the sorcerer had taken a Northern woman, who was now the Stewardess of Winterfell, as his wife. An alliance between House Tyrell and House Stark was crucial for Margaery's family's long-term plans. If they could boast a marriage between Stark and Tyrell, then those Houses in the Reach that were starting to question her family's Wardenship would be quieted for a long time and it would also serve as the beginning of a mending of ties between the Reach and the North. Which, after recent events with the failed marriage between Ser Jorah Mormont and Lady Lynesse Hightower and the debacle with the Maester's, was sorely needed. And most importantly, by marrying the eldest Stark girl, Sansa Stark, to her brother Willias it would remove perhaps the primary competition Margaery had for the Crown Prince's hand.
While her whole family agreed with this course of action, she knew her eldest brother well enough to know that he had more than one reservation about the match. Though not for the reasons most people would assume. It wasn't that he presumed that Sansa was not good enough for him, but rather that he was not good enough for her. All because of an accident at a tourney when he had an unfortunate draw that brought him up against the Red Viper of Dorne, leaving him lame in one leg and forcing him to rely on a cane to walk properly. It was, in her opinion, a ridiculous notion. Just because he couldn't ride or fight like other men didn't mean he wasn't desirable. He was Heir to Highgarden, the future Warden of the South. And even if he wasn't a knight, he was still very handsome. She just hoped that the Stark girl would be able to look past his cane and leg and see the wonderful man that was her older brother.
Just as Margaery's grandmother was about to ask them another question, they were spared as her other brother Garlan and his squire Dickon Tarly rode up alongside their carriage. "Grandmother, brother, sister. An outrider from Castle Cerwyn has been spotted by our outriders. We should reach the Castle walls by nightfall at the latest. It would probably be prudent of us to rest for the night and continue on to Winterfell on the morrow."
Their grandmother tilted her head back in thought for a moment before nodding. "I would prefer reaching the Starks sooner rather than later. But we must be of fresh minds when we go to deal with the wolves and the sorcerer. Send a rider ahead and announce our arrival to House Cerwyn. This will be a good chance for us to feel out the waters regarding the Northern political climate after the attempted coup by those idiot Maesters and Lords. Now shoo."
Garlan, well used to their grandmother's antics, didn't hesitate before nodding and snapping the reins of his horse, spurring the warhorse back towards the front of their column. "If we wish to make a good impression on the Northmen, grandmother, perhaps it would be best for us to set up camp outside of Castle Cerwyn's walls. After all, we cannot expect Lord Cerwyn to provide for a column as large as this one with no notice of our arrival. And considering Lord Cerwyn only recently came into his inheritance after the death of his father at the attempted Northern coup, should we really be putting so much on a new Lord?" Willias stated once their brother had ridden away from them.
He did have a point. Their retinue was quite a large one. There were perhaps a dozen supply wagons filled to the brim with foodstuffs meant to be distributed during their stay as well as no small amount of coin to pay for that which they used while at Winterfell. Then there were the wagons containing those destined for the Night's Watch, both the volunteers and those who chose the Black over the block. Then there were all the guards of House Tyrell that'd come North with them to guard over them. Then they had also managed to bring along a highly sought-after group of minstrels and one of her family's favorite fools for entertainment while they were in the North. In all, their retinue consisted of perhaps close to a hundred and fifty in total. Not an extraordinary amount. But not a small one either.
"I'm sure that Lord Stark did that upon returning to the North earlier and upon learning of our coming was to inform every Lord that lies between us and them of our passing," Grandmother responded plainly. "Lord Cerwyn knows of our coming, Willias, of that I guarantee you. And better the boy learns what is expected of him now that he's a Lord sooner rather than later. And – oh for gods' sake, what is it now?"
Frowning as their carriage lurched to a stop, Margaery tried to peer out through the shuttered windows, only to see several guards in Tyrell livery running back and forth and yelling to one another. Leaning towards the door opposite from Margaery, her brother Willias opened the carriage and called out to the first man he saw. "You there! What is going on? Why have we stopped?"
The young guard, for he couldn't have been older than Willias, swallowed at being called upon as he took off his helmet and lowered his eyes. "Forgive me, milord. But Lord Garlan called for a halt. One of our outriders returned and – and he had an arrow in his back. And the other who went with him, he didn't return, milord."
Margaery felt a shiver run through her at the thought of one of their men having died and another heavily injured. 'What…Who…Bandits? Or – Or no. It couldn't have been Wildlings…could it?'
"Wildlings?" her brother asked, giving voice to her own thoughts.
The young guard merely shook his head. "We don't know, milord."
Still standing in the entrance to the carriage blocking most of her view, Willias turned his body so he was facing north with his good leg supporting his weight on the step just outside the carriage door. "Go to the front of the column and tell my brother that I want to speak with him now."
The guard blinked, then hastily nodded. "Yes, milord, I'll go th—"
With a sudden, pained grunt, the guard lurched forward and fell into her brother. "Shit! You two stay in the carriage!" Willias yelled loudly as he jumped out of the carriage, bad leg and all, and slammed the door shut. But not before Margaery got a good look at the young guard. Her heart thundered in her chest as she saw a river of red blood running down from the young man's eye, which had the tip of an arrow protruding from it.
"Get away from the window, Margaery!" her grandmother yelled, forcibly pulling her back down into her seat as five men in Tyrell livery took up positions on the side of the carriage where the young man fell.
Swallowing, Margaery tried to see what was happening outside the carriage, but between her grandmother keeping her away from the carriage windows and the men who placed themselves around them, her sight was extremely limited. She had no idea how long they sat there, neither her nor her grandmother saying a word. But eventually they heard dozens of horses galloping off into the distance as the men surrounding their carriage moved aside slightly. The door to the carriage opened, and Willias pulled himself back in before quickly shutting the door behind him once more, their guards reforming their circle the moment he was within.
"What in the hells is going on, Willias?" Grandmother asked with narrowed eyes.
"The outrider was bait," Willias answered, shooting her a sympathetic look before continuing. "He and the other he was with ran across a group of bandits a fair distance to the west. The bandits killed one, then let our other outrider survive so that he would lead them back to the main caravan. Garlan has taken a dozen of our best to hunt them down while we make haste towards the safety of Castle Cerwyn."
Margaery found herself letting out a breath of relief, but at the same time she felt a pang of fear for her brother. This wasn't the first time he'd ridden out to take care of bandits or brigands or whoever else might be threatening the land. And the only other who seemed to even be able to give Garlan a challenge in the yard or with a lance was their brother Loras. But that didn't mean she never stopped worrying for any of her brothers whenever they put themselves in harm's way.
"Good," Grandmother sighed, straightening herself. "Then let us get a move on before those idiotic fools decide to press their luck again. Honestly, attacking a caravan the size of this one with knights acting as escorts…Perhaps I was incorrect on those of the North having mostly sound minds."
Margaery had to agree with her grandmother on this point. It was foolish for an apparently small group of brigands to attack such a large train like their own. From what little she knew of military matters, when it came to brigands they preferred to only fight when the odds were in their favor and would often avoid such large numbers. So then, why did these brigands in the North attack them so readily despite being outnumbered?
Just as she was about to give voice to her question, a movement out of the corner of her eye beyond the carriage caught her attention. Turning away from her brother and grandmother, she stared off into the woodlands perhaps a hundred paces or so to the east of the Kingsroad. However, there was nothing there besides trees and grass. But as she began to turn back around, she saw it again. A dark shape amongst the tall grass near the tree line. Frowning and narrowing her eyes, she focused in on the spot. Only to have her eyes widen as a man stepped out from behind a tree with a bow in hand and an arrow drawn. As he started to raise his bow, no less than perhaps two dozen other men, all carrying bows, stepped out from behind the trees.
"There's more of them!" Margaery shouted, pointing towards the tree line just as the man she'd seen let loose his arrow, along with the two dozen others who'd stepped out of the trees with him.
She felt her brother's hands grab her by the arms just a moment before she was thrown to the floor of the carriage. A moment later, several loud thuds sounded within the carriage as the arrow's found their mark, but mercifully failed to pierce through the wood ceiling or find their way through the windows.
"To the east!" she heard her brother shout from his spot above her, his body covering her own like a shield. "All men to the east! We're under attack!"
Looking up, she saw her grandmother on the floor of the carriage next to her with Willias's arm draped protectively over her back. "Stay here and stay down!" Willias yelled as outside the carriage men started yelling and horses began crying out as steel rang against steel.
"Where do you think you are going, young man!" Grandmother shouted as Willias's weight left them both. But instead of answering, her eldest brother ducked out of the carriage before quickly shutting the door once more as he began yelling out orders to the men around him. "Bloody fool! He's not a warrior with that leg! He should leave the fighting to those who can fight properly! This is no time to be a bloody hero! Idiot! I thought he was smarter than his father!"
Margaery wanted to yell at her grandmother for talking about her brother and father so, but she held her tongue when she looked up at the woman who helped raise her. She was scared. And that, more than anything else, scared Margaery too. Her grandmother, the iron Lady of House Tyrell, was never afraid. But now, here she was, scared as the two huddled together in a carriage while around them the sounds of battle raged. Margaery had been to many tournaments in her life, so she was no stranger to the sound of steel ringing against steel or the sound of war horses running at each other. But this…? This was so much different than what she had experienced before when watching any melee or joust. This was…so much worse.
Feeling the carriage rock, Margaery risked a glance up, and immediately regretted her decision. A man, who looked to have not seen a proper bath in perhaps a moon turn or more, was peering in on the two of them. A wicked smile on his face showing his yellow crooked teeth.
"Well, well…" the man crackled, holding onto the carriage with one hand as he used the other to bring a dagger up to his mouth where he proceeded to lick the blade. "The old hag ain't much…but ya, lass…? I bet ya have a tight little cu – ahhh!"
Margaery had no idea what happened. One moment the man was standing there and the next he was…simply gone. The only clue she had to his sudden disappearance was a white blur that'd passed by the open window of the carriage where the man had been standing, along with a strange noise that was almost like a…humming sound. And—And cheers of victory as she heard the unmistakable sound of horses racing past her carriage once more. 'Has Garlan returned!? He must have! And we've routed these…these brigands!'
Summoning all the courage she had within herself, Margaery edged towards the window and dared a glance through it. She could see the men of House Tyrell racing around and chasing after some of the brigands who were now trying to flee. But she couldn't see either of her brothers. 'If not Garlan…then who came to our aid?' she wondered as she started to notice several men in thick grey cloaks mingled within the men of House Tyrell, aiding them against the brigands.
Hearing a snarl and the strange humming again, Margaery angled herself to try and see where they were coming from and felt her heart hammer in her chest. Standing amongst the men in grey cloaks and her own family's men was a young man of age with herself. He had long dark hair that was tied back behind his head in a simple braid and he was wearing almost all black. He was…very handsome in a rogue like manner. But what truly got her heart thundering was the sword the young man was using. The blade was white and – and glowing. He wielded it with a skill she had only ever seen in her brothers. But most peculiarly was the white dog that was staying close by his side.
'No. Not a dog…a wolf,' she realized, her eyes widening as she put the pieces together. 'A Stark! With a wolf and – and one of the Sorcerer's blades. For that weapon could be nothing else. And he's leading these men in the grey cloaks. And given his looks…that must be Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark's son and heir. But what is he doing here?'
The brigands must've realized that there was no chance of victory and began to cry out to flee. But the moment they did so she heard another shout as a new set of heavy horse steps reached her ears. Turning her head, she had to stifle a gasp and put her hand over her mouth as she watched one of the brigands get speared right through the head by a man on horseback. Following the path of the spear, Margaery felt first elation, then confusion tinged with the slightest bit of anger as she saw the man on horseback wearing all red leather armor with the sigil of a sunspear displayed on his chest. 'The Red Viper of Dorne…Prince Oberyn Martell himself. The same man who lamed my brother Willias…What is he doing here?'
Almost as seemingly as quick as the fighting started, it was ended as she watched the Red Viper of Dorne raise his bloodied spear and give off a yell of victory, which was quickly taken up by all of those outside the carriage, both of the North and those who came with House Tyrell.
Forcing herself up, Margaery ignored her grandmother calling for her to stay put and threw open the carriage door and stepped outside. She'd been prepared to see the worst… But what she saw was worse than anything she could imagine. There were dead men and even some dead women, some of whom she had talked to this very morning, laying around the various wagons and carriages that made up their convoy. 'The North respects strength, Margaery,' she told herself, forcing herself to step down from the carriage and into the aftermath of the battle. 'If I am to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day, I need the North to support my claim. And to do that, I need to show them that I am worthy of being their queen!'
Keeping her head held high, Margaery did her best to not openly stare at the dead around her or let her unease show as she made her way around the carriage and towards Prince Oberyn, who was now off his horse and standing beside Stark, her brother Willias, and another man with dark blond hair that she didn't recognize.
"—owe you our thanks, Prince Oberyn, Lord Jon, Lord Asher. If not for your timely arrival, then I shutter to think about what might have happened."
Margaery's steps slowed but she kept moving towards the small group, being careful to avoid any unpleasantness on the ground while she ran each name through everything she knew of the North and its people. 'Lord Jon…Not Lord Robb. But he is definitely a Stark, with the wolf and the sword he could be no other. Which means that this young man isn't Lord Stark's heir, but rather his bastard son. The Sorcerer's own apprentice and the man who at the age of thirteen managed to win a Trial by Combat against a full-fledged member of the Kingsguard. And the other, Lord Asher…I don't recognize the name. But he is definitely a man of the North.'
As she came upon them, her brother was the first to notice her, his eyes widening as he obviously wasn't expecting her to get out of the carriage. "Margaery, what – It isn't saf–!"
"Safe?" Margaery finished for her brother with a note of challenge in her voice. "I stand here before the Red Viper of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Lord Jon Sn – Stark, himself. And a very capable Lord of the North who I have unfortunately not had the pleasure of hearing about. What safer place could there be? And as you all are so casually exchanging courtesies with one another, I assume that it is safe to say that the threat of these brigands has been dealt with, no?"
Willias looked more than a little uncomfortable, which made Margaery stand up all the straighter. 'No wonder grandmother acts like she does and says what she says.' "My lords, this is my sister, Lady Margaery Tyrell. Margaery, this is Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Jon Stark, and Lord Asher Forrester."