Chapter 22 4 страница

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. "

Margaery met the eyes of each man in turn. Prince Oberyn seemed to be just as charming as her brother had described him to be, and even though he was the one responsible for her brother's injury, she could not hold ill will against the man. Not when that same brother seemed so friendly with him. With Jon, she did her best to appear as strong as possible before him by not backing down and keeping her eyes firmly trained on his own. The North, and the Sorcerer especially, valued strength. So, she would give them strength. And to be truthful, it wasn't hard to keep her eyes fixed on Jon's. They were an interesting and lovely shade of color that she had never seen before. So dark, but with a tinge of coloring that she couldn't identify. Though when she went to meet the eyes of Lord Asher, she hesitated a moment as his name fully came to her. " Lord Asher, tell me, are you by chance family with Lady Mira Forrester? "

Lord Asher's head tilted slightly. " Aye, my lady. She's my younger sister. "

Margaery smiled at her good fortune. Not only was she able to start impressing upon the Starks by meeting up with Lord Jon, but she would also be able to start forging a relationship with the family of her future handmaiden. " Then we shall be seeing and hearing more of each other in the future, my lord. Part of our reason for coming North was to collect your sister as she will be my handmaiden in Highgarden upon our return south. "

" Oh, " Lord Asher responded, blinking and clearly not sure how to follow up. " Well, that, um…It'll be good for her. Thank you for – for taking her in, my lady. "

Favoring her future handmaiden's brother with a smile, she turned her attention to Jon Stark and Prince Oberyn. " Lord Jon, Prince Oberyn. Thank you both for your timely intervention in aiding us against these brigands. "

" Your words are appreciated, Lady Margaery, " Jon said, his voice calm yet authoritative. " It is the North who offers our apologies for this even occurring my Lady. These brigands are remnants of the Houses that attempted to usurp House Stark nearly a year ago. Instead of accepting the actions of those they served and trying to move forward, they turn brigand and we have been attempting to locate and bring them to justice for some time. It was merely ill luck that you and your family got involved. But I am heartened that we were able to arrive before too much damage was done. "

" And as for myself, Lady Tyrell, I was merely out with a ride with this strapping young man here and my niece when we ran across your column just as the trap was sprung, " Prince Oberyn explained.

Ever since she was young, Margaery had been taught all aspects of the game, including how to read those who played with and against you. So, when Jon's body went from relaxed to rigid at the mention of Prince Oberyn's niece, she immediately took note of the change. 'Strange. Prince Oberyn has only one niece. And that is Princess Arianne. And Jon's sudden shift at her name… There's some sort of history between the two. But what? '

" Regardless, both of your interventions were most timely and saved a good many lives her—"

" Oh, enough flattery, Margaery. Men are perfectly capable of stroking their own egos to the point of popping off. They don't need your help to get to that point. "

Margaery just barely managed to hold in a wince as her grandmother approached them. While she truly loved her grandmother and appreciated her blunt honesty, she also wasn't blind to the fact that her grandmother's mannerisms had slighted more than one individual in the past. And these men were not amongst those they could afford to slight. Not when the entire purpose of this voyage was to create ties with House Stark.

" Ah, Lady Olenna Tyrell. I see that age has not curbed your tongue in the slightest, " Prince Oberyn smiled, seemingly not at all surprised or put off by her grandmother's tone or words.

Her grandmother's steps didn't slow as she picked her way across the field, her twin guards taking up position beside her as she walked. " Ah, the man-whore of Westeros himself. Be careful not to stand too close to that one, Margaery. You're likely to catch some sort of rash. And you, you're a Stark, are you not? Of course you are. The wolf there speaks louder than you do. " It may have been a trick of the eye, but Margaery could've sworn the white wolf near Jon's feet tilted his head in confusion as if he could understand what her grandmother was saying and didn't appreciate it. " Now, if you men are quite finish stroking each other's ego or trying to get my granddaughter to do it for you, perhaps we can move the forward so that we can speak with one another without the stench of the dead assaulting us, hm? You agree? Good. Then get moving. Margaery, we have much to talk about, young lady. "

Watching her grandmother promptly turn around and leave, Margaery turned back to the others. " Forgive my grandmother, my Lords, Prince Oberyn. But today has been most trying for all of us. "

" No need for such apologies Lady Margaery. If I had a copper for every time Lady Olenna has insulted me, I'd be richer than the Triarchs of Volantis right now. " Prince Oberyn smiled at her. " But she does have a point. Pleasantries are best saved for when you are not straddling the dead. Care to ride back with us, Jon? I know that Arianne has been looking forward to your reunion and she would be pleased to see you sooner than she'd thought. "

Again, Margaery took careful note of Jon's posture and the slightest reddening of his ears. Something had clearly happened between him and Arianne. The only question was what? And even more confusing was the fact that, unless she was severely misreading what was going on, Oberyn seemed to be almost encouraging a continuation of whatever was between them. Most peculiar.

" Of course, Prince Oberyn, " Jon nodded, his unease seeming to disappear in an instant. " Lady Tyrell, Lord Tyrell. Castle Cerwyn is less than a half a day's ride north and Winterfell is yet still another half day beyond that. I know that Lord Cerwyn will offer his hospitality to us all for the night if you wish. Or we can press on to Winterfell through the night if you wish. "

" Castle Cerwyn would be the better choice, I feel, " her brother stated, looking around at those who were still trying to clean up after the skirmish. " We have injured and at least one of the wagons is broken. It'd be best if we don't push things too hard and take the night to recover ourselves before pressing onwards. "

Jon nodded, clearly expecting the answer. " I'll send the Wolf Rangers that accompanied me onward to Castle Cerwyn to announce our arrival. "

" You have our thanks, Lord Jon, " Margaery said, favoring him with a smile as she decided to test something. " And we will find no insult in you leaving us to join with Lord Asher and Prince Oberyn as they return to Princess Arianne and their own retinue. "

There it was again. Faint, but the signs were definitely there. The slightest twitch and the slightest turning of red at the mention of Arianne. 'He's clearly infatuated with her. But the question is whether the infatuation is returned on her end? Or is she merely playing a part to secure the Martells and Dorne the Northern Sorcerer's apprentice and permanent ties with the North? I'll have to talk with grandmother and Willias once we are out of hearing. This changes things. '

Leaving the men, Margaery quickly and quietly made her way back to the carriage where her grandmother waited. Coming to the steps, she barely gave her grandmother's two guards a passing glance as she hoisted herself up into the carriage and retook her seat directly across from her grandmother. It was only after she was seated that she noticed the thumping of her own heart beating wildly in her chest. And it was only after her grandmother took hold of her hands that she realized she was shaking.

" You did well, my dear, " she heard her grandmother say. But her voice sounded like she was talking to her from across a room instead of directly in front of her. " You showed your strength to the Northmen, and a Stark no less. And you stood strong before one of the snakes of Dorne. Very well done, Margaery. Though the arrival of the Martells is one that we should be concerned with. No doubt they are here to use their brief trade relationship and the fact that the man-whore spent time with the sorcerer to try and poach one of the wolves for their own. "

Taking a breath, Margaery did her best to put the aftermath of the skirmish to the back of her mind as she focused on her grandmother and the unexpected appearance of the Martells. " I–If they are here for that, then I believe I may know who they are trying to claim. "

" Oh? " her grandmother responded, giving her a look Margaery knew all too well.

" I believe that the Martells have their sights set on Jon Sn – Stark. "

Her grandmother leaned back in her seat and neatly folded her hands in her lap. " And what makes you think that? "

Biting her lip, Margaery took a moment to choose her words carefully. " Prince Oberyn made it a point of mentioning the presence of his niece, Arianne, several times. And each time he did, Jon reacted in a way that suggested that he…well…knew the Princess well. Just how well that is, I do not know. But something must have happened between the two of them during his brief stay in Dorne when the sorcerer and the North returned from Valyria. If the Martells are here to try and arrange a betrothal, I believe that they will try and secure one between Arianne and Jon. "

Humming to herself, Margaery's grandmother turned and stared out the window at the now retreating forms of Prince Oberyn and Jon Stark. " It is a possibility. And a likely one at that. Doran hasn't betrothed the girl to anyone yet, even though she's his heir. Perhaps one of the few good traditions I can think of that come out of that wasteland. A bastard becoming a Prince Consort isn't unheard of in that land. It's been made even more feasible now that the boy has been legitimized as a full Stark. Doing so would allow them to claim the first Apprentice to the Sorcerer himself, giving them a very powerful weapon to wield in terms of not only his supposed powers, but also through his other true-born siblings. Hmmm, if the Starks and the Martells manage to formalize an alliance through marriage, it would tie yet another Kingdom to the North, giving the wolves that much more influence. Which means that securing Sansa for Willias now means far more than it did when we left Highgarden. "

Sitting astride her horse with her riding skirt legs gently flapping in the breeze, Arianne Martell watched while lightly biting her lip as she surveyed the aftermath of the skirmish that had fallen upon the Tyrells. This was the first battle, or rather skirmish, that she'd ever seen outside of the melee in a tournament. And that paled in comparison to what she'd just witnessed. The brutality was just, gods, and this wasn't even a real battle. Just a skirmish at worst. " Looks like they are cleaning up any stragglers. "

Turning her head, she cast a glance over to her cousin Tyene, who was sitting tall in her saddle with her blond hair flowing freely in the wind. But while her cousin appeared to be the epitome of calm, Arianne knew better. Her Uncle Oberyn, Tyene's own father, was down in the thick of the fighting, as was Obara. But Tyene was stuck here, along with her uncle's paramour Ellaria, her other cousin Nymeria and a handful of House Martell guards that had not followed her uncle into the fight. Well away from the fighting.

" That it does, " Arianne nodded, her eyes searching the small mass of bodies for her uncle, trying to make sure that he was alright.

" My love is fine, " Ellaria said, nudging her horse so that it was level with Arianne. " Though, I will admit that I do not enjoy the thought of him running head long into every fight he finds. It does the heart no good. But that is just who your uncle is. And it is who Obara is turning out to be as well. All we can do is have faith in their skills and trust that they will return to us. And…it looks as if our faith has been rewarded. There is my love now returning to us. And he does not appear to be returning alone, Princess. "

Narrowing her eyes, Arianne quickly spotted her uncle, Obara and the few House guards that'd accompanied them into the fight. And at her uncle's right hand was a young man with dark hair wearing a black cloak and who had a pure white dog running alongside his horse. 'No, not a dog, ' Arianne realized, a slight grin coming to her as the approaching group got close enough for her to start making out details. 'A wolf. A white wolf. And there is only one man who is said to have a white wolf at his command. Jon Stark. My Jon. My wolf. '

She didn't know when it'd happened, but sometime after Jon had departed from Sunspear her thoughts and feelings towards the Northern bastard had started to change. She wouldn't lie; the first that had truly attracted her attention to him was the fact that he was apparently the favored student of the Sorcerer. But after getting to know him, she found that he was so much more than just the Sorcerer's Apprentice. He was, unlike any young man she had ever met. He was more skilled, thoughtful, and intelligent than most men twice or even thrice his age. Yet he was still humble and honorable. And after some time spent apart, Arianne came to the stark realization, no pun intended, that she just wanted Jon. His powers and the political advantage he could bring to her, while still important, had gone to the back of her mind whenever she thought of him. She just wanted him by her side. A fact that her cousins had teased her relentlessly about ever since she'd made that revelation to them.

'And now, I'm about to see him once more, ' she thought happily. The grin growing with each moment the group drew closer, only to falter as she looked down at herself. 'And here I am, unbathed for a week and wearing a riding dress that is completely unflattering! I'd planned on making another impression on Jon upon our reunion, one that he wouldn't be able to get rid of so easily. But now there's no chance of that happening! Though…Perhaps this is still salvageable. Ellaria always said that there are few things that can get Uncle Oberyn's blood flowing like a good fight. Perhaps I can…tempt him and leave an impression that way? Hmm…I wonder? With his blood flowing, will he take the initiative when properly provoked? Or will I have to take his hand and lead him through the dance? '

As they drew close enough so that Arianne could hear their voices, she saw that her uncle was looking incredibly smug. 'No doubt he knew exactly what I had hoped to achieve with a reunion with Jon…and he more than likely invited Jon along just to mess with me. ' " Ah, dear niece, daughters, my love, " Oberyn greeted each of them in turn as he brought his horse alongside Ellaria's so that the two could share a very…passionate reunion.

Ignoring the display, Arianne instead focused her attention on Jon. Who, she noted, seemed to be taking her uncle's antics in stride. 'It's only been a year, and I can tell he has changed. When he was in Dorne such and open display would have at least the tips of his ears turning red. But now he simply brushes it off as an everyday occurrence. And he has filled out quite nicely in that time as well. Though that beard, or what is starting to be a beard, needs some work. '

" Princess Arianne, welcome to the North. Though I do wish that our reunion was under better circumstances, it is…good to see you again, " Jon greeted her, his voice firm and warm, though she could detect just the slightest bit of shaking that he was obviously trying to keep out of his voice.

'Well, at least he hasn't changed too much. ' Arianne thought with a grin. " Jon…how many times have I told you how you are to address me? It's not hard, just my name. Now, try again properly. "

Jon blinked, then graced her with a smile that seemed to warm his face. " As you wish, Arianne. "

It was such a simple thing but hearing her name on his lips as if he were tasting a fine wine and savoring it… It sent shivers down her spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold air of the North. 'Oh yes…this is going to be a most…fortuitous journey to Winterfell. '

Pursing through the shelves that contained the Northern Sorcerer's private library, Tyrion Lannister could do little more than marvel at the rather impressive collection the man had managed to acquire in his relatively short time here in the North. The main library within Winterfell was impressive beyond measure and put Casterly Rock's to shame. And this library only added onto the already impressive collection. Pulling down a book at random, Tyrion fought down the jealousy rising within him as he stared down at the Valyrian language written within the tome. 'Of course, most of these came from the ruins of Valyria, ' Tyrion thought, cursing the fact that he'd never taken the opportunity to learn the language of the Dragon Lords, though granted outside of some parts of Essos it was pretty much useless. 'But still, each of these books are probably worth a small keep a piece. To the right people, the sorcerer could probably generate enough coin from the sale of these books to surpass both House Lannister's and House Tyrell's combined wealth. '

Putting the book back in place, Tyrion continued his way down the length of the shelf, intent on making the most of his time now that he finally had a moment to do so even after being in Winterfell for nearly five days and nights. Ever since he'd arrived in Winterfell with his uncle and niece, he had been a very busy little man. Personally, he wanted to do nothing more than just sit and read and watch the Sorcerer's lessons. But his father had pointedly informed him before he left that his going to Winterfell was not for mere pleasure. His father had given him a list of tasks he was to perform that was nearly as tall as he was. And he had to work fast as he learned on the very day of their arrival that House Lannister was not alone in it's desire to gain an 'in' with the North as both House Tyrell and House Martell were sending envoys that were due to arrive within only a few days. So, for the first few days he spent every waking moment taking constant mental notes of everything the sorcerer had done to Winterfell before retreating to his room and writing them all down so that he wouldn't forget any detail no matter how small.

The glassmaking was astonishing to watch. While in theory, now that he knew the secret behind it, it wasn't difficult. But the craftsman of the North had turned glassmaking into almost an art form. Just to see how good they'd gotten, Tyrion had commissioned a set of bowls and chalices worthy of House Lannister. The master craftsman hadn't even batted an eye at the request and had simply stated a price, which was unfortunately almost all the gold Tyrion had on him and given him the timeframe of eight days to complete the work. 'It'd be possible to start our own production in the Westerlands, perhaps a keep along the shoreline where there is sand aplenty, ' Tyrion mused as his fingers drifted along the spines of the books. 'But it will take years to catch up to the Northmen. And even then, we would only be able to do so if they remain stagnant in the craft. Which is unlikely considering how far they've come in such a short time. '

His next target was the printing press. Which, to him, was honestly the greatest treasure in the North. It was so…intricate that he'd spent a full day just observing how the thing worked and writing down everything he could. And even after that, he doubted that he got everything and didn't know whether House Lannister would be able to replicate the device or not. Then there was the 'school', as it was known. A place of learning for the young children both high and lowborn. And then the college where the more studiously inclined individuals went. Then the training regimes that the sorcerer imposed on both his acolytes, which even with Joy's help he couldn't make sense of.

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