Fandom The Dirge of Summer [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

“I don’t ever want to leave this cave, Jon Snow. Not ever.”

The words of Ygritte haunted Jon still, like the image of her fiery hair and freckled form. He’d never imagined it, unable to with those layers of clothing she wore, but now it seemed to haunt him. Every breath was a reminder, the pain of her arrows still making him tender, and the reports that came in of Wildling attacks from across the North, most recently from Mole Town.

‘This is my fault.’

The black-haired man wanted to apologize to Sam for Gilly, a thousand times over.

He wanted to apologize to all the dead of Mole Town, and many others besides, who were suffering due to the Wildlings he helped get over the Wall. He wanted to apologize to Olly, a new orphan thanks to his mistake, now a part of the Night’s Watch. ‘He’s too young for it. Aye…he still had a life in front of him.’ Now the child was blinded by his fury, and Jon was still dealing with his guilt.

He would resume his duties, though. He had finished his trial and been allowed to live, despite breaking his vows and killing Qhorin. ‘And Thorne and I finally agree on one thing.’ He thought as he shrugged on his black cloak, his black fur, as the sun was only starting to come up that day. ‘That there is nothing we can do.’ The wildlings were doing this to try and get the black brothers to leave the Wall, to try and get them to weaken the defenses of the Wall by dealing with them. ‘Robb is gone South for his war, the North is defenseless….’ He’d heard talk of Ironborn raiders, as well.

Theon had betrayed them.

It still sparked anger in Jon as he walked out of his room, Ghost coming up on his heels then. The door shut roughly behind him as he seethed in his helplessness, to go man the wall, to play lookout.

If he could only leave here, and wring Theon’s neck….

He had to stop the thought as Ghost pushed into his leg, and Jon looked down at his direwolf with a wane smile, before pausing to reach down and scratch behind one of Ghost’s ears. “We’ll get through this all right,” he murmured, and then started to walk to continue on. He would need breakfast for this shift, and the mess hall wasn’t far.

Only, he heard a shout – that familiar orphan boy, on watch: “We have a rider approaching!”

There weren’t so many near at that hour, people were moving between shifts and getting breakfast. Jon hesitated only a moment, before moving to the parapet and climbing up the ladder to join Olly besides the outer gates into the area that was Castle Black.

He saw the red hair first, and tensed up, his dark eyes immediately imagining Ygritte in place of the actual rider.

Then her visage cleared away, and he realized it was another – not Sansa, much as he may have wished to see his sister safe and sound, but Fayre Cerwyn. “Open the gates,” he spoke to Olly, and when he scrunched his face in confusion, Jon gave a gesture, adding, “That’s Lady Cerwyn.”

No doubt, with more bad news about the wildling situation. More blame for the Night’s Watch for not doing enough, for being a waste of resources…Jon would endure it. They all would. They were meant to protect the realms, they had to suffer the complaints when they failed.

Olly moved hastily to do just that, not yet in the black garb of a true Black Brother. He was able to move quicker due to it, not burdened by the heavy furs, and he quickly cranked the gate opened.

Cassia Bolton had determined one thing: she hated the South. Never mind how beautiful all the green could be, or the flowers, the sun was brutal and the attire was – well, honestly, frustrating. The Northern woman had been taken captive in furs and leathers, armor, but of course that could not last. Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, would not see her that way nor allow her to be mistreated after her words of Roose, and correspondences that had begun between the two men.

This much, Cassia was not allowed to share with others – those correspondences, but Tywin had allowed her some knowledge.

She was a prisoner, in name, but not quite in truth.

In name was enough for the current situation she found herself in, among the Tyrell host, with the ladies left behind when Loras and the others went to fight alongside the Lannister forces. She was watched over by a few guards cloaked in red and gold, but her hands remained unbound. Not that she did much to encourage them to watch her heavily.

Her shoulders were still singed red from the sun from a couple of days ago when one of the ladies wanted to talk endlessly about hawks and show her some she kept as pets, without shade. Cassia had refused all treatment from the maester, but it still stung quite a bit. She just didn’t trust the medicine, nor the people.

They were too…well, happy. It was not a bad thing, but it made her suspicious. She was not accustomed to it.

Nor the attire.

She missed the attire from being with Tywin’s party. It covered her. This…did not. The pink dress was pretty, certainly, but the cuts in it felt revealing. This was how she got her shoulders burned. Yet, she had to go out. The party had stopped near a town with a sept. Many wished to pray for those fighting, as they all knew it would have occurred recently, or was, perhaps, already over.

The boon of that, was that it was also one of the few towns with a weirwood and a heart’s tree – a reflection pool. Cassia intended to go to it. It would be one of the few spaces she would have any real peace. The guards would stay at a distance, she’d seen this already, and so, once she was certain she could tolerate being seen in the pink dress, she stepped out of the tent.

The blonde guard looked to her immediately, and her silvery eyes held his brown ones without flinching, without any indication of fear or deference. “I want to go to the heart’s tree to pray.”

Tywin’s guards were, blessedly, silent and stoic most of the time. He just gave a nod, and took her arm. She may not be bound, but she still did not have much freedom to move. She was escorted everywhere, and she accepted it, brushing some of her black hair over her shoulders to make sure they were covered in some fashion.

It was only a few minutes’ walk in silence before she was at the white tree and released. She moved towards the ancient tree, around the reflection pool, and took a seat upon one of its overgrown roots, and there clasped her hands in her lap, more to meditate than to pray. The wind blew gently in the leaves, and it was always in those moments, Cassia could swear she heard more.

 

[ShiroKuma]

"Fayre, the wildings have attacked. You're the fastest rider. Go to the wall and bring back some men."

Her fathers words rang in her ear as she and her steed, Barric, made their way toward the nearest post at the wall. It wasn't often that her father sent her to do things, but that wasn't what bothered her. Wildings hadn't been near her home in years. If they could breach the wall then, surely, the other creatures she had heard tale of could as well.She listened to the evenly paced grunts of the large brown and white horse. She looked like a chip atop him, but that was perfectly fine. Her petite size allowed her companion to bob and weave through the forest at a much swifter rate. Even though there was a clear path from her home to the wall, it was much faster cut through the forest. The path was certainly safer, but it had unnecessary detours and she needed to get there as soon as possible. Even the slightest delay could mean the wildings escape.

As she approached the wall, her long, wavy, red hair was caught by a burst of cold wind. A shiver ran down her spine. While she was used to the cold, the temperature near the wall was much more severe. Her riding gear was not near enough to protect her from the unforgiving conditions of the wall, but she had not had time to consider that when her mission was given. The gate cranked open as Barric slowed to a walk. Once the gate was open, Fayre led Barric into the rather intimidating entrance.

Once inside she stuck out like a southerner in the North. Each man was dressed especially...dull. She knew that the men at the wall were forever cursed to be completely donned in black, but she had always imagined there being a little bit of color. Fayre herself was dressed in tight, copper colored trousers, a lover sleeved black blouse with a corset that was finely detailed with leaves and tree branches on top. The corset was also the same copper color as her trousers. Atop her corset she wore a snug emerald green coat that stopped at her waist in the front, but continued down to her knees in the back. Her boots were brown leather with gold detailing on them. It wasn't a style that was often seen in the North, but she loved the way that it contrasted with the snow and how it blended with the forest during the summer and spring seasons.

As she dismounted her horse she noticed a familiar, rather grim looking face. "Jon Snow, you never smile do you?"

A sly smile spread across Farye's lips as she teased the man she was once able to call her friend. However, that was years ago. In fact, it was a miracle she had recognized him at all. He was much more grown and...well, better looking. As she walked towards Jon the snow under her boots crunched ever so slightly. She stopped dead in front of him as her sky blue eyes met with him "I have a feeling you and your companions know why I am here."

Margaery Tyrell loved the feeling of the sun on her skin and being out and about with 'common folk'. It gave her quite a rush. She was a bit of a social butterfly. She had the ability to make nearly everyone love her. Little did they know, she was decieving a large portion of these people. She certainly loved the common folk and helping them, but her ambition was to be queen and she would do anything in her power to do so. Even if it meant marrying Joeffry. He had just become king after the untimely death of his father.

Originally, she had thought that the youngest Baratheon brother would be king. He seemed to have the greatest amount of support and a much better head on his shoulders than that of Stannis Baratheon, but he mysteriously died. So, she had to make her next move. Which was traveling to King's Landing to see Joeffry and the others. In order to keep up the appearance of a doting and supportive follower, she often made sure she could be seen or heard praying. While she was a member of the faith, it was much easier to get people to support her if they saw her practicing her faith.

Today, she decided to walk a little slower and enjoy the cool breeze. It was a wonderful release from the heat. Her curly, brown, hair gently danced in small gusts of wind as she made her way down to the heart's tree. She was overly dressed for such an occasion. She did not like to be seen in an unflattering way. The clothes she donned were always elegant yet had a bit of sex appeal.

The dress she wore today had a plunging neck line that was rimmed with silver lace. The sleeves of the dress cut off just before her shoulders ended. The color was a light shade of pink that beautifully brought out the green in her eyes. The silk her dress was made of moved like water around her as she gracefully made her way down to the tree.

Before she made it all the way down she saw a well curved figure sitting in front of the tree praying. This brought a smile to her lips as it was rare to see too many people down at the tree during this time of day. She slowly walked up to the person and leaned over so her head was level with the girl's. "Hello, do you mind if I join you?"

 

[Lucyfer]

​

Were it not for the tension of her arrival, Jon would have thought to joke that Fayre looked ridiculous. She did not, of course – not so far as appearances went. The red-haired woman had grown like Sansa into a beautiful lady, the corset making it clear she was no longer a little girl, even she remained relatively short. Her hair was waved, though a part of Jon wondered if that was from the humidity or the ride. He swore it had once been straighter.

So much could change when one grew, though.

He was actually surprised that she recognized him, the Bastard of Winterfell, and he knew it showed in his expression as both of his eyebrows rose once he left the ladder to approach. He paused with the joke, before a slight smile did tug at his lips, as if to prove her wrong. “There hasn’t been much to smile about, Lady Cerwyn,” he noted as he resumed walking towards her, a fact he knew was soon to be confirmed.

The smile was already melting away, the joy of familiarity fading with the fact she was not there for a pleasant visit. He gestured back with his hand, and Ghost stayed where he was, not approaching, not disturbing the horse.

He looked down into those blue eyes, the somber expression stuck in place. Still, his dark eyes didn’t turn away or flinch, as he answered, “Aye, I can guess what brings you so far North, and dressed in such a ridiculous attire.” He already found himself shrugging off his cloak, and moving to offer it to her. After such a ride, in such brisk winds, “You must be freezing,” he’d be fine. He was still wearing plenty of heavy leathers, and so it was no hardship for him to offer it. “Let’s get your horse in the stables, and see you inside. We can talk about what’s brought you here in the warmth, and let your horse get some rest before his next trip.”

Before she would have to go.

He would reach for the reins of his own accord, to see that the horse was put away first. She would know where the stables were then by virtue of accompanying him, and he could then see her inside the mess hall. Food, drink, that would help her after such a trip, and he could get the briefing from her, before seeing to Thorne…and he could try to find some way to explain that there was nothing the Night’s Watch could do.

The wildlings wanted them to leave. They could not give them what they hoped for, and hope to hold the Wall against an even large host.

He had explained it to others, but he was not quite sure how he could explain it to her – to someone he knew, however briefly. He did not want to disappoint, and it was easy to think of the large scale, when it was not so personal. Her presence reminded him that others he knew, friends and acquaintances alike, were in danger due to the Wildling attacks, and it was not at all a pleasant reminder. Gilly had been bad enough.

The approach of a stranger was heard, but Cassia was intent to pay it little mind. They might go away if she ignored them. When that seemed not the case, and she heard a voice in her ear, she let her eyes flutter open to look upon the one who had arrived. It was not who she expected, and certainly, not someone who ought to be wearing pink. Not that the color was offensive in any way – it was flattering upon her – but it was not the Tyrell house colors.

Nor Baratheon.

Lady Margaery Tyrell was known to the Lady Bolton, not through meeting her, but seeing her, and hearing those obnoxious handmaidens speak of her. Margaery was praised to the heavens and back, and oh-so in love with Joffrey, from all rumors.

Cassia did not answer immediately, eyes assessing the other woman, dropping and following the path the dress made in its cut - impossible not to with the way the lady had bent forward - and continuing down, seeming to assess whether or not she was a threat, before returning back to those green eyes that seemed to exude warmth and curiosity. “I did not think you followed the Old Gods, Lady Margaery,” she spoke quietly, a measured tone learned from Roose to betray little.

She shifted all the same to allow Lady Margaery room, all the same. She was a prisoner, there’d be no denying the Lady if she wanted to pray, or stay in her presence, unless she wanted to leave the Heart’s Tree early…which, currently, she did not. Margaery was a woman of rumors, and someone worth knowing if she was going to marry Joffrey. “I do not imagine His Grace will be pleased to hear you have prayed at a Heart’s Tree,” though her tone betrayed nothing, she did allow her lips to curve in a subtle smile, the implications written into it.

Margaery must have known it couldn’t be good to be seen at a Heart’s Tree, when Joffrey Baratheon was at war with the North. The Old Gods, and their faith, were tied to the Northern region, and almost nowhere else. The rest of the world had moved on to follow the Faith of the Seven instead. Cassia had no intentions of moving away from the Old Gods. They may not have great power here, but she did not need them here.

She would return to the North.

She would be Wardeness of the North once things were settled, and she would have all the power she needed, then. “I shall not tell him, though.” As if others wouldn’t see, or know. All that Margaery did seemed to be known – or at least, all the good that she did. Her little handmaidens never shut up about it. They were good little birds, at least – anyone could fall in love with the image they had painted of the future queen.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Farye didn't like to admit that she was in a state of weakness, but Jon was right. She was frozen nearly down to the bone. It was cold enough without the crisp winds created by riding. She let out a soft, embarrassed, huff of air before accepting the cloak that was offered to her. It nearly engulfed her. She didn't expect it to be so warm. Nor did she expect the smell that wafted off from it to make her heart beat faster than normal. Sure, Jon was an attractive man, but she hadn't seen him in year and had no interest in him. He was a site for sore eyes though. Most of the suitors her father had attempted to present her too looked like toads. Thankfully, her father was unwilling to wed her to someone she did not wish to be wed to. At Jon's comments she let out a soft scoff "One might say you look ridiculous, Jon Snow."

She followed quickly behind Jon, smiling as she watched him take such good care of her trusted companion. Most stables boys would have simply locked him up without another thought. Her smile quickly faded as she entered the mess hall though. It reeked. A rather putrid smell of body odor and dead feet was wafting off of the men within the room. Clearly, they didn't have nearly as good hygiene as Jon did. She found herself drawing further into the cloak in an attempt to distract herself from the stomach churning smell.

She politely picked at the food that was placed in front of her, but in all honesty, between the smell and the matter at hand, she didn't have much of an appetite , but she did not want to be rude after the kindness she had been shown. It was much more than she had been expecting. The Night's watch didn't necessarily have a reputation for being the kindest bloaks.

After she felt that she had appeared to eat enough, she cleared her throat and her eyes once again met Jon's. Her heart skipped a beat, perhaps because she found them unatturaly beautiful eyes or perhaps it was because the reality of the situation had finally settled in. She softly cleared her throat and spoke with a soft, almost frightened tone. She was not easily scared, but the wildlings had never reached her home before. "Jon, wildlings are quickly approaching Cerwyn Castle. They have been raping and pillaging their way up through our people's land and homes. Men were sent to deal with them, but few have returned."

She paused for a moment to allow her words to sink in with Jon, but also to calm her shaking voice. It was a combination of anger and anxiousness. "With the war going on, all of my father's best men have been sent to fight against the South. If the wildlings reach the gates of our castle...we won't be able to defend."
Again she paused, but this time it was to give Jon a pleading look. She was unsure of how much help he could provide her with, but she couldn't return empty handed.
"My father is requesting that the Night's watch send down some men to help with the problem. Just four or five to help handle the matter. He said that it was the Night's Watch's responsibility to keep the wildlings out, and now it is their responsibility to fix the problem. If you don't, Cerwyn castle may cease to exists within a matter of weeks....and I along with it."
The final comment may not have been necessary, but Fayre was a relatively dramatic woman. Usually, it helped her get what she wanted though. She reached over and gently brushed the top of Jon's hand with her finger tips before withdrawing her hand. She wasn't sure if it would work or not since she wasn't the greatest at the 'feminine arts', but the ladies within her castle always told her to try and appeal to a man's softer, more loving side if the request was difficult. She didn't really like it, but asking someone to put their life on the line was a relatively big request.

A small giggle escaped her lips as she settled herself down on the seat next to the young woman. She looked over her for a moment as she calculated her response. Most people wouldn't think to question her actions so openly. It was brave. Especially when most people know that Margaery would soon be the queen. Yes, in fact, most people did their best not to question her at all. They likely hoped to gain something once the vows were said and the marriage consummated. She ran her hands gently over her the silk sitting on her thighs and looked over to the girl. She had raven black hair and snow pale skin. She was quite beautiful, but the burns on her skin was quite distracting. Margaery gave her a kind, sideways smile before turning her attention back to the tree "It is not often that someone questions what I am doing, but if you must know, I find that in times like these, we could use all the help we can get."

She ran a hand through her soft hair and sighed "It certainly might upset Joeffry, but when he finds out I was praying for his safety he will accept my actions."
Margaery wasn't entirely sure if Joeffry truly would accept her antics, but she had to tell herself that in order to maintain the level of courage she had to keep in order to deal with him.

Margaery nodded her head sweetly to the young girl "I must thank you for not telling him though. I must say, my maids don't exactly have the tightest of lips so, someone who can keep a secret is quite a relief."

Margery leaned back stretching her chest and neck out before relaxing once more "I also would like to show the people of the North that I have not forgotten them. If Jeoffry is ever to regain their support then they need to know that they are respected just the same as the southerners. "

She let her eyes run over the girl curiously again before beginning her own interrogation "Based on the burns on your skin, I'd venture to say that you are not a southerner. Tell me, what brings you here...to our happy little caravan , I mean."

The sweet smile never left Margaery's lips, but she in fact was being as calculating as ever. This girl was brave enough to question her so, it made her stick out enough, but it was also clear she was a northerner. This made her seem interesting to Marfaery, but she was unsure of whether or not this girl was harmful to her or a potential ally.

​

 

[Lucyfer]

Fayre seemed engulfed in the black. Despite being of the North, the black cloak took over her, as if she hadn’t learned how to live in furs and leathers, heavy dresses and the like. He wondered if it would have engulfed Sansa just the same. ‘Or Ygritte….’ His thoughts kept trailing there, to the influential red-heads in his life. He’d think of Cat, but he never liked to think of Cat for long. He did not resent her…but she was a painful reminder he had been rejected by a false mother, as well as a real mother.

He took care with the horse, making sure to untack him a bit, though he did not stay to brush him down, he was quick to assign someone to the task of seeing the horse fed and brushed down, before he would lead on to the mess hall.

By then, talk of the woman would have spread. Someone, no doubt, was going to be alerting Thorne to it. Until then, Jon would sit with her in the mess hall, and listen. He found an empty spot at one of the long tables, and took a seat across from her with his own bowl of brown and warmed milk. He’d grown a taste for it up here.

He kept his gaze easy on her, though he noticed her discomfort under it, and thought the steady gaze was briefly intimidating. He darted them away, and she began to speak then, so he slowly brought them back over to her, and listened, as she explained exactly what it was he thought it would be: wildlings. The fact that she thought 4 or 5 would help was almost laughable and hinted that they had little idea how severe the situation was. Or didn't know the sorts of men in the Night's Watch. Perhaps if they were all so skilled, 10 could handle it, but that was not the case.

His heart went out to her, and as he drew a breath to speak, he felt the light pressure of her fingertips on his palm. He would have jolted, were his hands not covered in gloves. Instead, he closed his fingers into his palms and drew them back to his side, annoyed he had them upon the table between them in the first place, opened in a gesture of trying to appear open himself.

He'd been burned not long ago by a woman with fiery hair. He was not keen to feel it again, and he lowered his gaze a moment to gathered himself once more. He was sure Fayre had only meant it as a gesture of solidarity, familiarity.

"We are aware of the wildlings, but unfortunately if we come to House Cerwyn's aid, or any other, we will be creating a larger risk. There is a host of wildlings just across the Wall, waiting to hear that the guard is lowered here. We cannot risk it." His own advice, and for once, Thorne had agreed.

He knew she would not like to hear it, but he did not lower his eyes in shame. He had to own this. "Perhaps we can help host and protect those of your lands. We would have to seek approval for it, but it may be possible." An alternative though Jon doubted Thorne would approve it readily. Still it may work to their favor of they could gather many to one spot - though the lands may suffer from being pillaged. So close to winter, he knew that in itself could be a death sentence.

"I'm sorry, Lady Fayre."

‘No, of course they do not.’ Cassia did not say that aloud as the lady settled herself down. It was no surprise to her that she rarely found herself on the end of questions. She was a Noble of the Tyrell family, with a reputation preceding her for her beauty and her grace, her generosity. If her title alone didn’t cause others to let her do whatever she wanted, the other aspects did.

Lady Bolton was accustomed to a degree of it as well, though intimidation had more to do with why the majority of people did not question her. They knew the reputation of the Boltons, and did not wish to end up on their bad side.

Cassia said nothing about the Old Gods not being so generous as the New. If Margaery wanted to seek their aid, and wanted to believe they might, she was free to believe so. The North knew better.

Cassia turned her eyes back to the tree, no more breeze blowing through its leaves. It almost brought a smile to her lips, the small confirmation. Coincidence or not, the tree was silent. Perhaps it was listening, or perhaps it was ignoring them entirely. It was no longer speaking, at least.

“I have noticed. Your maids talk endlessly about all sorts of things,” Cassia noted then, though was quietly pleased that a few had not thought to speak of their efforts to see or speak with herself. If they had, it wasn’t enough to identify her before Lady Margaery, who did not seem to know who she was, or why she was part of the caravan. Pity.

She kept her gaze off of the other woman. It was easier that way, not to look upon her and speak, though she could see that sweet smile out of the corner of her eye. “I am the Lady of the Dreadfort, Cassia Bolton, Lord Tywin Lannister’s prisoner,” she answered, “left here as he went to fight at Blackwater with your brothers, among others,” the answer was simple fact, no indication of which side she favored. It was not as if Stannis meant anything to her.

It would likely be left to believe that she and Margaery would not be praying for the same things beneath that tree.

She did favor Tywin, though.

If he won, things would move forward with Roose.

If not, she became a new hostage for the Tyrells, and she did not quite know what that would mean. She had no illusions that the Lannister guards would be able to take her to Casterly Rock if the Tyrells decided to keep her as a tool against the North. “Forgive me if I do not consider it so happy, Lady Margaery,” there was a wry twist of her lips, “I am sure under different circumstances, your caravan would be a delight, but joy outside of a cage is only a fuel for bitterness.”

 

[ShiroKuma]

At Jon's words Fayre's discomfort slowly melted away and a seething anger began to take its place. Her usually bright eyes quickly darkened and any sign of hope or happiness was replaced with an fury that most did not know that she could hold within her petite body. She bit down on the inside of her cheek as she waited for Jon to finish the bull shit that he was spewing. How dare he.

She thought carefully before she spoke as she raised her hand slowly to her temple. She couldn't quite understand how they could simply say no. The wildlings were their responsibility. She let her hand drop rather dramatically to the wooden table, making a loud thump as it did so. Before she spoke she let out a soft even breathe in an attempt to control her growing rage.

"I don't think it is quite as simple as you thing, Jon Snow."

Venom dripped from Fayre's words. She certainly didn't intend to sound so cruel, but this was her people that they were talking about. She wasn't the lord or lady of the house, but she certainly felt responsible. They were relying on her and this person who she thought she could trust was telling her that he couldn't help.

"Whether there are wildlings on the other side of the wall or not, you all let the others in. "

The more she spoke the more unsteady her voice became. One could practically see and hear the rage coming off of her. She stood up and placed her hands firmly on the table below her and stared down at Jon. She was no longer going to be able to play nice. Even if she desperately wanted to.

"If we had all of our men there would be no need for you and your friends. Unfortunately, all our young and able bodied men are out fighting a war for your family and in honor of your father. So, if your men can't help us, then you damn well better figure out a way to. The knights watch failed the North and if you ever expect recruits from my people or any of the neighboring house, then I'd suggest you figure out a way to help."

The smile on Margaery's face grew. She quite liked this girl. She was rather cheeky. Margaery tucked some of her long locks behind her ear and shifted her body so she was further facing the girl "They certainly do talk a lot, but they are sweet and I'm sure they mean well. It is quite frustrating not being able to have someone to share secrets with...in fact, it could drive someone mad."

Margaery listened intently to Cassia's words and even nodded a few times to show she was listening. It was interesting that she thought she was caged. It was true that Margaery hadn't seen her often, but she did notice the guards constantly. However, cage were not that restricting. At least they weren't in her mind. There were many things that could be done inside a cage. Whether they were good or bad, the things would be interesting.

"Birds in a cage still sing just as beautifully as those in the wild. In fact, those outside the cage often admire those within. This is not because of their status, but because of what they do on the inside."

Margaery hadn't quite measured the intelligence of her new friend, but Cassia's striking eyes hinted at a deep intelligence. Even though Margaery's little speech was rather cryptic, she was certain Cassia would comprehend what she was attempting to say. After all, she was a Bolton. They seemed particularly witty.

"If you like, you can join me and my little birds. Although, you're more like a hawk than a simply song bird, aren't you?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Jon knew he was responsible, personally, for helping the wildlings get in. It did make her jabs more personal, but he tried to keep his face from showing it. He was certain he failed as he felt himself lean back, and felt his face start to contort in anger to mirror her own. It would be pointless to rage, or to even ask when the last time was that any of them sent able-bodied men who weren’t criminals to the Wall.

He doubted it had been recently. Few went to the Wall nowadays, which was why it suffered, and why they could not defend those of the North from the wildlings.

He knew she was angry. He understood it, and was helpless before it. It hurt that he’d use her family against him, and that was when he rose, pulling his own height card on her as she’d tried to do in looking down at him, and speaking to him like an inferior, “Do you think I want to be here while my brother is fighting a war to avenge our father?” He snapped, feeling a pang of disappointment in himself, both for the words, and how he was using them then, against her, when she had every right to her anger, every right to complain to the Night's Watch. He shouldn't respond this way, and yet, she had chosen her words to make it personal, “Do you think I want to be here, while those in the North are suffering, while my brothers Bran and Rickon are missing? Do you think I wanted to be here when Theon betrayed us and took Winterfell?”

His fingers curled into fists on the table, “I am bound by my oath and I am a man who keeps it,” he had broken it, but only for the cause of the Night’s Watch. That was the lie he told himself, over and over, as eyes fell on them due to his own rise, his own hushed anger.

At least this was sincere, and not the bullshit, “We have the concerns of the North in mind when we say we cannot leave the Wall to help, my lady,” he used title alone to add distance, “If we leave, far more will come over that Wall, and there will be none to deal with it. We are waiting them out. I have offered what I can,” and even that was more than he’d been able to offer before – to let those people come to the Wall and be protected near it while the wildlings raided elsewhere.

“If you want to continue trying, you can speak to the acting Lord Commander. I will escort you to him.”

It was Alliser Thorne for now, as Jeor Mormont had not returned from beyond the Wall just yet.

Cassia arched a single dark brow at Margaery’s words of what ones did inside a cage. It was true, the Bolton woman had already made her moves from within the cage. Lord Tywin Lannister had reached out to her father, a calculated risk, but one he’d taken all the same. Her father was as much a bird in a cage as she, kept by a wolf – but he was far from docile. He would break his cage and assume lordship over all the North, soon enough. The Boltons knew how to feign subservience in their cages.

It did not mean they liked their cages, though, and her intrigued manifested in the slight curve of her lips in a smirk as Margaery thought to flatter her by referring to her as a hawk instead of a songbird. “You would not make such a comparison if you heard me sing,” she did not deny it, of course, only noted that Margaery saw beyond, already.

She was good with the singing, good with the harping, and while it could give the illusion she was a woman who had learned the lady’s ways, she had been found in leathers with a sword in hand. There would hardly be any true pretending that she didn’t belong among the predators.

“I do not think I would mind joining you and your little birds much at all, however,” she consented. The little birds might annoy her, and Margaery might prove a bit difficult in that scene at times, but it would certainly allow her to observe more of the Tyrells and see how to move in this particular cage. “I’m not so accustomed to cages, so it may be useful to learn from those who seem to admire them and know how to make themselves enviable within them – to achieve larger cages that almost taste like freedom.”

Was that not Margaery’s goal? To marry the king, and have the largest cage of all, in the guise of his Queen – a beautiful sight before all the people, but one ever watched. She would have power and influence, of course, but she would also have to answer for everything witnessed, and in such a large cage? There was much to be witnessed.

 

[ShiroKuma]

​

When Jon rose Fayre intimidated. It wasn't everyday that a man had the guts to act like that toward her. Perhaps she had been overly sheltered by her fathers status. She had been trained to fight and to be a lady, but other than to roam in the wilderness, she hadn't been out much, as a result she wasn't used to people standing up to her. She definitely didn't like this feeling. She clenched her fist and did her best to stand tall next to him. Unfortunately, even though Jon wasn't the tallest man in the bunch, Fayre herself was relatively small. So, she couldn't be sure if her movement was even noticed.
"I know you would be with them if you could, Jon. I admire your desire to keep your oath, but part of that oath is to protect the North. "

​

Her face was nearly as red as her hair at this point, but she still did her best to maintain her calm as she continued to match Jon's gaze.

"Fine...take me to him. I'll convince him to help."

In order to make her point and show how determined she was, Fayre took off the coat that Jon had bestowed upon her. She held it out in a rather snooty way. Holding the coat on one of her fingers as she held it out to him without looking. She wasn't typically this ridiculous, but she had a point to make and a goal to achieve.

"Very well, take me to him.....bastard."

Fayre hated to refer to Jon as a bastard, but he called her a lady. Despite that being her title, it stung. Jon was never one to call her that when they were little. In fact, he was one of the few to treat her like a normal human being, but apparently this situation didn't allow for that. She straightened her posture and waited for Jon to take her there and introduce her and her dilema.

​

Margaery let out a soft scoff and gave her thighs an amused pat. " I highly doubt that you would sing. At least, not the way my little birds do. They have a purpose. I want them to sing. With you, I am just curious. Your a very pretty little hawk."

Cassia had an air to her that most the people she encountered did not have. It excited Margaery. Getting the little king to do her bidding was all good and fun, but Cassia had a mission of her own and Margaery wanted to see what would happen. She doubted that the Boltons were interested in going against the current king. Well, at least not yet so, they posed no threat..for now. Margaery reached over and rested her hand atop Cassia's shoulder.

"You have much to learn. Cages have the most freedom of all. Everyone has their eyes on you so they think they know what you will do...and you can use that. "

Margaery then took her dainty hand and touched it to her own nose before letting it drop "Know this, never underestimate what you can do within a cage." She smiled and switched back to her playful, sweet side. The guards were too far away to hear what was going on, but she heard her little birds off in the distance coming closer. "If you like, you and I can go and talk some more. Away from the eyes of the guards. Perhaps I can teach you."
Margaery looked back to the guards and gave them a sweet wave and a smile. She could easily get them to leave her alone with Cassia. Practically everyone was wrapped around her little finger.
"Cassia, come with me to my chambers. Tell me of the dreams that hawks have. I can help you get away from the dogs watchful eyes if that is what you desire."

 

[Lucyfer]

‘No, it isn’t.’ Nowhere in his oath, was he sworn to protect the North. He was sworn to protect the realms of men, and that was exactly what the Night’s Watch was doing. Going down to help with the wildlings, while in another time, may have been their duty, it was not now. Not with so few, and not with a larger threat looming. They had to side with the realm of men, and the immediate danger of the wall being overcome by the wildlings, who would take them down.

That could leave the way open for things far worse than the wildlings, things Jon did not want to think on, but things he had seen.

Though she spoke calmly, she was red-faced, and clearly angry. At least, she spoke calmly for a moment. Jon started to move, nodding in agreement that he would take her to Thorne. He stepped from the table, and then heard the rest of her words – a rephrasing of her order, with his cloak held out.

He showed more disgust with her than anger. He heard ‘bastard’ often enough among the wildlings and Night’s Watch, so much so the word itself had no more meaning to him. Yet, he had not expected it from her. He had expected some semblenace of respect to remain, but it seemed she would only be that way when she thought she would get her way.

He snatched his cloak from her and then strode off, silent. She would follow, or she wouldn’t, but he had no more words for her. He’d fulfill his duty and leave her with Thorne, whom she couldn’t mock as a bastard or force to do anything through sentiment. He wouldn’t even mention the offer he’d made to have her people brought here.

Perhaps it was petty, but he felt the heat of anger in his throat as he fitted the cloak around him as he walked, and was greeted with the cold.

And Ghost, who was waiting outside for his treat.

“Sorry, boy,” Jon had forgotten. He’d remedy that later.

He kept on, and the white wolf fell in step with him as he trekked across the yard to where he knew Thorne would be at this hour. As acting Lord Commander, he had made a habit of seeing Maester Aemon in the morning to go over rations and much else – paperwork he despised.

He wrapped his knuckles hard on the door once he arrived to it, and before he could shout out for Thorne, the door was pulled open and the man was sneering down at him, “What is it, Lord Snow?” The mockery still came easily to him.

Jon just gestured back to Fayre.

No, Cassia would not sing as Margaery’s birds did – she had meant it quite literally, but it often served to make many think of her as they must have thought of Margaery’s birds, as some simple lady who sought nothing more than a good husband or children, a simple life. Such was not for her, and she was not completely certain if she was being mocked or flattered as Margaery called her a ‘pretty little hawk’.

Her cheeks did take color with it. She was used to people making a point not to deride her or offer such easy compliments.

Her eyes followed Margaery’s hand as it rested on her shoulder, tensing immediately under the gesture, but not removing the hand. Her gaze returned to Margaery soon enough, for it was difficult not to follow her every gesture, like how she touched her own nose. It was all made to draw attention and to keep it just where she wanted it. It was, indeed, fascinating, even if it also kept Cassia on the edge of suspicion for it all being overly friendly. Margaery knew what she wanted.

Secrets.

What hawks dreamt…some of it, was not to be shared with Margaery, and some she’d been told by Tywin not to share with others, but she may find she could play it. Depending…apparently there was much to learn, indeed, more than she’d learn sitting by the Heart’s Tree and hoping to hear her brother’s voice or be reassured in her father’s safety. “I think you have me intrigued enough, Lady Margaery.” She’d thought briefly to use a nickname, but it would not come.

She was never so warm, never so loose with flattery – but she was intrigued, and Margaery was certainly succeeding in that regard. She had yet to offend the Lady Bolton, despite walking that thin line of being overly friendly to the point of becoming quite suspicious.

But, Cassia could not help but be drawn in a bit, despite knowing that was exactly what Margaery was hoping for. She wanted to imagine that being conscious of it would help her not to lose sight, anyway. The girl was good at what she did – it would be useful to see just how, and if there was any of it she could incorporate into her own ways, her own masks.

So, the woman rose, but offered Margaery a hand up as well.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre let out a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes as she followed behind Jon. Her anger was still there, but after seeing Jon's reaction to her use of that word, she began to wonder if perhaps she went to far. After all, she was one of the few people who had never called him that. She couldn't let her guilt get in the way of her mission though. She watched curiously as Jon interacted with his dire wolf. It was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. A small smile spread across her lips, but she quickly had to return to her serious expression as they approached the area where Thorne was hiding himself.

Despite having argued with Jon, Fayre didn't like the tone Thorne had towards Jon. Fayre believed she was responding with malice in self-defense, but Thorne appeared to be doing it just to be a miserable human being. She was not entirely surprised though. Her father had told her and her brother about Thorne. Lord Cerwyn used to visit the wall quite often. She wasn't entirely sure why, but her father brought back some incredibly interesting stories of Thorne. Simply seeing Thorne left Fayre with a foul taste in her mouth.

"I think if my father knew you were Lord Commander he would never have sent me...." Fayre walked around Jon and positioned herself in front of his so Thorne could see her fully. She once again had her cocky attitude that she arrived with. However, the respect she has for Jon was not there for Thorne and she wasn't entirely sure she could hide that.

"I'm sure you are aware of the situation in the North. Wildings are quickly approaching Cerwyn Castle and other Castles. People are dying. It isn't a large band, but most of the able bodied men are off fighting a war. We need some support. "

​

Margaery let out a gleeful laugh as she took Cassia's hand. Despite her slightly cold attitude, her hand was quite warm and soft. Something that Margaery deeply enjoyed. She loved the touch of other human beings, but Cassia was different. Her warmth was deeper than just a touch of the hand. Margaery wasn't entirely sure if the warmth was a violent fire or something more welcoming. She certainly wanted to find out though.

Margaery rose with the same amount of grace that she sat down with. Her pink dress danced around her before settling down around her sculpted body. She released Cassia's hand and dropped her own down to her side before turning and glancing at the guards "Boys, I will be taking her with me for a bit. You can take a break. I'll call for you once your are needed."

Margaery's tone was sweet, but underneath that sweetness was a threat. It said that if they attempted to defy her there would be consequences. She then turned back to Cassia and tilted her head to show the direction "This way."

As they were walking Margaery decided to take a path that not many took. It had overgrown trees and bushes. It may not have been the easiest to walk on, but it was beautiful and she knew her little birds would not dare follow. "Cassia, there is no need to call me lady. You're my little hawk and I won't have you stand on ceremony. "
Once they reached the chamber doors, Margaery pushed them open and motioned for Cassia to enter "after you."

 

[Lucyfer]

Alliser Thorne listened to the woman with only a raised eyebrow, as she did not introduce herself, nor did Jon. She spoke of some father with no reference, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to her prattle on about needing support because of the wildlings. He huffed, but despite the trickle of amusement that caught in his eyes, he could only say, “So do we,” in regards to needing support, “We haven’t the men to spare, whoever you are.”

“Lady Cerwyn,” Jon offered then.

“Doesn’t matter,” names, titles, lords, ladies, smallfolk. “We’re dealing with a war right now as well, and unfortunately we can’t afford to send a skirmish party to go help. I’m sure there’s some women who Stark didn’t take with him, like yourself. Put some swords in their hands, aye, or go to Lady Lyanna Mormont – I hear one of her men are worth a hundred of anyone else.” He spoke in a dismissive tone.

He’d seen enough orphans and others come to the wall due to the wildling party. This one hardly impressed him more than the rest. “Is this all you have for me Lord Snow, another beggar girl? Is it because she’s a red-head?” He couldn’t help but ask. Jon had confessed the story of Ygritte, and though Jon never said it, he knew, when Jon had let slip that she was considered ‘kissed by fire’.

Thorne knew enough of wildling talk to know what it meant. “No, Commander, she was insistent and should be heard by the highest among us, to know why we aren’t going to assist.”

“It isn’t our job, and we don’t—”

“Commander!” There was a shout from higher up on the wall – or rather, the elevator, which was lowering, “Men have been spotted coming to the wall – night’s watch!”

The conversation with Fayre was immediately abandoned, as Thorne moved towards the lift, pushing by Jon to do so.

Cassia’s hand was accepted with mirth and grace, as the young woman rose with a swirl of pink skirts and moved right to the guards. ‘Same hue.’ Almost. The shade the lady Bolton wore was a bit darker than the light pink that Margaery donned, but she noted it again, and wondered once how ignorant Margaery truly had been about her identity and location.

It almost seemed too well planned, and yet, Cassia did not ask any questions right then, but let Margaery speak to Tywin’s guards.

There was no argument, a glance to Cassia, but then a nod to Margaery to let it be known they would leave her be – but she would be taking the blame if the woman acted rashly and decided to stab the Tyrell woman through her throat.

Tywin told them that Cassia could have some freedoms, as Sansa enjoyed in King’s Landing.

She walked the path easily enough – she wasn’t unaccustomed to rough paths, after all, and maintained her balance as easily as she did upon a horse. Margaery told her there was no need for ceremony, professing that she was already her little hawk. Possessive thing. “I am not yet yours, my lady,” she spoke that with a certain emphasis, a certain play, as she stepped into those chambers, “Thank you,” for the passage, of course.

She paused not far within, both for Margaery to enter, and to take a moment to look at the scenery. Much could be gleaned about a person by what they owned, after all, and what they kept near. Of course, she did turn back to look upon Margaery, “You were aware from the outset of where I would be, weren’t you?” It all seemed far too suspicious, not that such was necessarily bad – hardly, someone who planned was good to have around, but that meant Margaery had been thinking of how to reach out to her for a while. Unless it truly was all coincidence.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre was taken aback by the attitude of Thorne. She wasn't used to people talking like to her nor was she used to people not knowing who she was. She supposed it made sense though. It's not like she had ever been to castle black. Despite this, she still felt the red heat of anger move through her body and come to a rest on her cheeks. Not only was he disrespecting her, but he was being unnecessarily rude to Jon. Fayre was aware she had just been particularly rude to Jon, but Thorne was especially vile. No wonder her father hated this man. He was particularly slimy.

"Thorne, you can dismiss me all you want, but I won't be leaving until I get what I need. My father sent me here. I can't return empty handed!"

She attempted to follow behind him, but he was faster and had a longer stride so, she stopped once she was close to Jon once more. Since entering Thorne's den, her anger with Jon had subsided and seeing him being treated the way he was made her realize that she certainly, as a friend, stepped over the line. Jon was likely used to the word 'bastard' by now, but she herself had never said it and it likely bothered him more than he let on. Even if it didn't, she still felt she had done Jon wrong. She did not look at him for she was ashamed, but her spoke softly. It wasn't often that she would speak in such a manner to someone and wasn't often that she apologized.

"For what it is worth, I'm sorry. "

Fayre didn't specify what she was sorry for and didn't offer anything else. She hated apologizing. It meant that she had done something wrong and that was something she hated. With that, she continued following after Thorne. She watched as the events unfolded before her waiting for opportunity to annoy Thorne once more. Something her brother always complimented her on was incredible ability to annoy people so badly that they gave into her in some way or another.

​

Margaery chuckled at Cassia's reaction. She was a cocky young woman. It wasn't just being rude or sarcastic, she had a wit to her that was unmatched by any of Margaery's birds. She stepped into her room and took in a deep breathe. She had vases of flowers scattered throughout her room. She found the scents soothing. Often times while travelling the smell of shit was everywhere. So, she decided to drown it out.

As she listened to Cassia speak with a wry smile spread across her lips. She poured two glasses of wine and held out one of them to her new companion " I knew of your existence , but I cannot lie. I did not know you were at the tree."

Margaery gracefully moved over to one of her velvet covered lounging seats. She laid herself out and stared Cassia down "Feel free to sit anywhere you like. The seats are covered in velvet. It makes them feel particularly nice on the skin."
She took a large gulp of wine. Much larger than she would normally be seen drinking in public. In her times alone she enjoyed acting a little less lady-like. She had a feeling it was safe to act this way in front of Cassia. Even if she went and told everyone of her behavior, no one would believe the girl. Margaery had built up her reputation and a girl who was technically a prisoner wouldn't be able to tarnish it. At least not so easily.

"I must admit, I was looking for a way to catch you. You caught my attention. It isn't everyday that people show indifference and no interest toward me. " She took another large drink of wine "I knew that you weren't exactly free like the others so, I wanted to know your story."

She let out a soft sigh and set down her glass and forced herself to sit up "So, tell me your story....or at least the one you've fabricated. " Margaery had a feeling Cassia wouldn't right out tell her what she wanted to know, but she also knew that the story she was told would certainly be clever.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘You do realize he can kick you out, or throw you in a dungeon cell, right?’ Jon did wonder if he ought to warn Fayre that such outcomes were likely if she persisted in annoying the Night’s Watch with her pleas for aid. Rather than be aided, she’d be thrown into a cell, and not get to return home at all, or not until she actually agreed to go home.

He did not get to say as much before she spoke an apology, and then strode off after Thorne, who was going to the gate as it was opened for the missing Black Brothers. Jon sighed as he saw Ghost step into his vision once more, head tilted up so he could see those red eye easily, “Aye, I know,” he agreed.

He should at least make sure Fayre didn’t end up thrown in a cell…somehow. Thorne was likely to make a point of continuing to call him out for a certain softness towards her.

Still, he followed after, and couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips as he saw Grenn and Edd there, and the gate soon closes behind them. Edd starts to open his mouth to speak a greeting, but pauses, a frown crossing his lips as he notices the clearly out of place woman in the cold winds, “Who’s this?”

“Never mind her,” Thorne dismisses, “Where are the others? What happened?”

“We stopped at Craster’s Keep on the way back,” Eddison begins, “We were coming back like the others, but there was a mutiny – I’m sorry, Jon,” there, he looked to him, “Lord Commander Mormont is dead.”

Jon did feel his heart clench at that, and his hand went down to Longclaw, the sword given to him by Jeor, but he said nothing. He gave a nod for the story to be continued.

Thorne spoke, though, “That mutiny was a while ago, accordin’ to Lady Piggy,” Jon glared at Thorne’s back, “he didn’t mention Lord Commander Mormont’s death. What happened with you all then, why did it take so long to get back?”

“We were held captive by our so-called brothers,” Grenn answered.

“Why didn’t they just kill ya?”

“I don’t know,” Edd stated, “but they didn’t, and we got free. Karl led the mutiny. We need to do something about this!”

“Bah. We don’t have the time or men to waste on this – as much as we don’t have the time or men to waste on her problem!” Thorne gestured carelessly towards Fayre. By now, plenty of others had come around them, to see the returned brothers Grenn and Eddison.

“With all due respect, Thorne,” Jon left off Lord Commander. With Jeor gone, there would need to be an election. “Karl and the brothers at Craster’s Keep present an immediate threat to our safety. They know our numbers. They could reveal that I overestimated them to the Wildlings.”

“And the wildlings are going to believe a bunch of mutineers, eh, Lord Snow?”

The flowers were pleasant to the senses, both scent and vision, and Cassia did admire the décor, enough to miss that Margaery went to grab wine. A cup was offered, and though she accepted it, she had no plans of drinking it. Wine never appealed. No alcohol did. No matter what Margaery knew of her, it was not that.

Not that she’d had much of a chance to make that fact known to others.

She moved after Margaery, noting how the woman reclined more easily now, openly, almost. She took to a chair near the lounge that Margaery occupied, and set the glass down near to her, as well, “You will not need to rise for another glass, I do not partake in alcohol,” she noted, before taking her seat.

She could feel the velvet in the places where the dress revealed flesh, but she tried to ignore it. It was nice, like satin or silk, but it also reminded her of the cut of the dress, and how immodest it was. Not that she minded it much on Margaery, but she wasn’t accustom to it upon herself, in front of another person.

“Lies are not so useful, they are found out, and resentment breeds. I hope not to earn your resentment, so you will simply have to forgive my omissions in my desire not to lie to you, my lady.” She liked that, for now – continuing with it, for now, until she had figured out her opinion of Margaery, and whether or not they could be allies of a sort. Roose Bolton would want such an alliance, after all, the Reach did supply the North with food in winter when their stores ran out, and everything was pointing towards a long winter.

“My lord father took me with him when Lord Stark called his vassals to go to war against your betrothed. I am as good with the harp as the bow, so it made sense,” also if he let her stay, he knew she and Ramsay would come to blows. Only Ramsay would call it an accident. “When Ser Jaime escaped captivity, I was sent to hunt him down. Instead of Ser Jaime, I found Lord Tywin,” a simple shrug, “and so I am here, as Lord Tywin and my father work out the details of my return. My father cannot be without an heir, and I am to have the Dreadfort.”

More than that – the North. She’d never let that bastard take any of it from her. “The details of that, I am afraid, would require some persuading,” Cassia couldn’t help the coy smile. Margaery had mentioned how frustrating it was not to have someone to tell secrets to. Cassia could trade, potentially – some secrets, anyways, for secrets. “I do apologize for making it difficult for you, and not allowing wine to loosen my tongue, my lady.”

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre listened intently to the dilemma that was being presented to the Night's Watch. It seemed that Thorne was absolutely worthless. Any person with even a smidgen of intelligence would know that having mutineers near the enemy could be detrimental to them. Fayre scoffed as Thorne wrote off Jon and stepped forward with her hands on her hips in a rather mocking way. "A wise man would be able to see the dangers that mutineers posed. They killed their lord commander. That right there is reason enough for them to believe them. "

Fayre let her arms drop to her side and stared at Thorne with an incredibly unimpressed expression etched on her face. The disrespect Thorne showed toward his men and her was enough for her to stop trying entirely.

"You can always send a small group to take care of the issue. I'll even volunteer to help. If you allow me to go with say..Jon Snow..and a few others I can learn the skills necessary to teach my people to defend themselves against the wildings and I might even be able to convince my father to start sending people to the wall instead executing them or cutting a hand off."

She paused for a moment. Her father always told her Thorne was a man who needed credit. If it didn't benefit him he wouldn't do it. "I'd even tell him and the other Lords that the credit is all to you. "

Fayre crossed her arms over her chest, mainly to keep herself warm , but also to show her determination to get any kind of assistance. Her firey red hair whipped around in the unforgiving wind. She nearly betrayed her face of determination, but she attempted to look as strong as someone like her could. She glanced at Jon from the corner of her eye in hopes to get some sort of support, but she wasn't entirely sure if she was forgiven or not. She hadn't exactly waited to hear his response.

​

Margaery listened intently to what Cassia said. It was clear that she was withholding information and she was very open about the fact that she was not telling everything, but Margaery was pleased to see her open up. She let her wine cut rest just atop her lips as she watched the young lady intently. The light colors of Margaery's room complemented her skin and eye color wonderfully. Instead of a winter beauty stuck in the heat she looked like someone who was born during spring time.

She slowly lowered her glass and let out a bit of a cackle " You are a clever little hawk. Most birds would drink every last drop of my wine and tell me every little secret they had. You have not disappointed me. In fact, this is the most fun I've had in ages...well, the most natural fun. I'm quite good at faking it"

After a moment of thinking Margaery gave Cassia a quizzical look " You have a brother...he may be a bastard, but how do you expect to obtain the Dreadfort? All your father has to do is recognize him as a legitimate heir. what would you do?"

It was certainly true that Ramasy Bolton was an awful little man, but it made more sense for their father to give the Dreadfort to a son as opposed to a daughter. As much as Margaery hated the idea of this, it was simply how things were done. Men tend to get the more powerful roles...or so they think. Men tend to be too foolish to realize they were being manipulated. This is why Margaery aspired to marry Jeoffry. He was too much of a fool to realize she was making decisions not him. He was certainly easier to control than most men. Perhaps it was because he was young or perhaps it is because he is such a fool.

 

[Lucyfer]

“If we had a small group to send after them, we’d have a small group to send to deal with your problem, wouldn’t we?” Thorne sneered, seeing a reason to call him as a liar from Fayre’s words. “We have to stay here. I doubt Mance will even go see Craster, and if he does, more likely he’ll end up in a fight there and handle the problem for us,” Thorne stated, “Now, all of you, get back to your duties – and you should go home.” He stated before turning to walk back to his meeting with maester Aemon, who was waiting not far with a bemused look on his face.

“Asshole,” Grenn muttered under his breath, earning looks from both Jon and Edd – thankfully, Thorne was out of earshot.

The others around looked uneasy. Thorne’s words had done nothing to inspire hope in them for the upcoming fight they all knew was to come with the wildlings. It only made them more conscious of it, and imagined their capabilities less than what they were – Jon could see it. Many were thinking of running.

“Hells,” Edd gave voice to it, “What has been going on, Jon?” Other eyes shifted to Jon, as well.

“We’ve let Lord Thorne act as commander for too long,” he stated, then added, “We’ll get him to change his mind on this.” Little did Jon know, maester Aemon was already intending to work on that. "For now, we have to resume preparations and reinforce the Wall, and get back to running drills." He looked to Fayre, "You should go home before you get thrown in a cell," at least now he'd warned her. He offered no title, no sign of recognition, this time.

He was still wounded, but she didn't deserve to rot away in a cell.

What humor Cassia may have shown at Margaery’s pleasure, what good nature, faded at the mention of Ramsay as her brother. “My only brother is dead, my lady,” she corrected, for in truth it was how she felt. Ramsay took him, all because Domeric wanted to know what it would be like to have a brother. It wasn’t enough that he had a sister. He was too trusting, too kind hearted, and he suffered for it.

Roose may indeed legitimize Ramsay, and this Cassia knew, but did not care about. Roose would at least be smart enough to wait until he was on his death bed. At least, she hoped so – otherwise Ramsay would send him to it once he had no more use for Roose, which would be right after a legitimization. “As for Ramsay Snow,” she made a point of the surname, “he has to be alive to be legitimized, and with the way he has chosen to live, I doubt that will be long.”

She would make sure that it was not long, but that was a detail not to be spoken. It was heavily implied, though. She had no doubt of that, but professing a desire to be a kinslayer was never smiled upon. Here, she could plausibly deny it, claim he made plenty of bad life decisions besides killing Domeric.

Not that Roose didn’t, but, well…she was biased.

“My lord father may yet marry again and have another son, and should that be the case, I am sure we will come to some sort of arrangement,” if Roose’s plans went as he suspected, he would have two pieces of land to divvy up anyway, two titles – the Warden of the North at Winterfell, and the Lord of the Dreadfort, and she would happily take over the Dreadfort and maintain it.

“Lord Bolton is not entirely so foolish as some men – I am allowed more than most women, allowed to hunt, to fight, and do much else besides the…womanly arts. Not that I think them lesser, only that I find a person should be allowed to pursue their whims, regardless of gender.” She smiled, just a bit, then, “The North is progressive in some respects, and in some families, like the Mormonts.” Lyanna, ah Lyanna…she would be quite the woman in a few years.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre felt slightly panicked at the idea of going home empty handed. She hadn't entirely been honest with her reasoning for coming. Bringing home some sort of assistance was a condition for her staying at Cerwyn Castle. Her father was threatening to send her away if she didn't start "acting right". The fact that she was the fastest rider was only a bonus. Fayre had acted like a rebellious adolescent for quite some time and even though she was skilled in a variety of things her father was tired of it. He wanted her to learn how the real world worked...one way or another.

She bit down on her lip and walked over to Jon her face was relatively calm, but her eyes showed exactly how fearful she was. "If I go home empty handed there is no telling exactly what will happen if I go back....There might not even be a home."

Fayre paused for a moment tucked her hair behind her ear and then rested her arm at her side. "If I end up in a jail cell then that is fine. It's better than what awaits me if I don't succeed and at least it means that I have tried."

She turned to the two men that had rode in and informed Thorne of the situation " I am Fayre Cerwyn. I came her to seek assistance, in any form, to help deter the wildlings that are heading toward castle Cerwyn. If I can't have a group of men to help defend my home then I'd like to go with you to Caster's keep and learn....something...anything really. "

Fayre sounded much more helpless than she had previously. She had come to the Night's Watch under the impression that she'd be able to get assistance and be on her way home. She thought her name alone would get her what she needed, but apparently that's not how things worked. She was beginning to regret not paying attention her daily lessons. Perhaps if she did, she wouldn't be in her present situations.

Margaery listened and nodded as she spoke. Cassia was much more than she had expected. She thought that the girl would be a spy who had good information, but she turned out to have actual aspirations. Aspirations she was ready to kill for. This girl was much more valuable than Margaery had ever thought possible. How interesting.

" I agree with you. A person should be able to persue their desires no matter the gender. Unfortunately, much of the south does not agree. I do love and admire the north for their respect for women. I hope that the South will one day take after that. I'm certainly glad your father allowed you to act in such a matter. I doubt you would be a hawk if he had you focus on just the womanly arts. "

Margaery leaned over and grabbed the glass of wine that was intended for Cassia. There was no sense in letting good wine go to waste. "I never particularly liked Ramsay. I met him once before. I can't quite remember why, but he was just awful. So, I can assure you that my support is with you. "

She cleared her throat and and leaned back on her seat once more. Thoroughly enjoying her relaxation time. " I am sorry for you loss, by the way. It's a horrible thing to go through. "

Margaery was trying to figure out a way to keep Cassia close to her and it finally dawned on her "You said you could fight. Would you be able to defend someone if their life was ever in danger?"

She stared intently at Cassia. She looked relatively slim...not very strong, but looks could be deceiving. Sometimes wit was more valuable than strength and Cassia seemed to have plenty of that to spare.

 

[Lucyfer]

​

There was a renewed fear in Fayre’s eyes that was impossible for Jon not to notice in her blue eyes. She had calmed in her mannerisms and tone, but the fear was almost as wild as her anger had been – and that had done her no good. She certainly hadn’t been taught like Sansa to be a good and polite lady in all situations, though Jon was not certain that would have done her any better with Thorne. He was difficult no matter what. ‘But it won’t stay that way.’

“Grenn. Just Grenn,” the younger looking man introduced.

“Eddison Tollett,” the fact he had a surname meant he was a lord, once. The other, of course, was not – just a man of the smallfolk, “everyone calls me Edd,” he added. His lordship meant nothing here.

“Let’s try to keep you out of a jail cell, aye?” Grenn added, “I don’t know how long it’ll take for Thorne to realize we need to go out there, but he’ll see it – and maybe then we’ll be able to assist you with your problem.”

Jon did consider, but didn’t speak to that. He was still wary of splitting up – wary that the wildlings would have a way to send a message out that Mance would see, and he would attack the Wall while its defenses were weaker. “Right now, we have to drill the men. If you want to learn a bit, you can join for that.”

“Alliser won’t like that.” Edd noted.

“Alliser doesn’t like anything,” Grenn countered. “I’ve known enough girls in my day who could fight, I don’t think she’ll hold us back anymore than the kids.”

‘It is not so common in the North.’ All that Cassia heard suggested that Dorne was still far more advanced and progressive so far as those matters went, but she hardly knew how it was in the Reach. That she heard nothing caused her to imagine it was much like the Westerlands, or even the Riverlands. It would not be a place she’d wish to be from – ignoring the heat of it.

At least it was much cooler here, and she observed Margaery take up the second glass. She idly wondered how many it might take before Margaery was one who started to rattle off secrets. She did not make a point to ask if Margaery would need more – it’d be too obvious what she hoped for, then.

“Should our kingdoms be reunited, I do hope your support will turn to action,” if Margaery had influence on the king, all she’d need to do would be to make sure he never legitimized Ramsay. It required a king’s approval, after all. “I can only imagine you met Ramsay because my father was once considering such a thing, and his desires to strengthen ties with the South back then were well known. When winter hits, it does hit the North hardest, and it is the Reach that supplies most of our food. A pragmatic man would consider such an alliance.”

And Roose was nothing if not that, besides his brutality.

She didn’t acknowledge the words of loss. Even if she’d hardly had time to mourn it, Margaery was hardly the person she wanted to dwell on it with. She didn’t know her nearly well enough to acknowledge such weaknesses still remained.

At the query, Cassia arched a brow, “If I can defend myself, I do believe I can defend others.” Not that she was a guard or had a desire to be one. She was a Lady, heir of the Dreadfort. She had guards. “Why?” It was a curious question to come out of the blue.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre lit up at the words of the men. She was honestly surprised that the men were willing to teach her to fight. She expected to be told to go home. The fear was still in her eyes, but much less than before. In fact, they had hints of excitement in them. Not only could she help her people, but she was going to learn something that actually interested her. "I was taught how to use a bow and arrow. I'm quite good at it, but my skills with a sword are lacking. I won't be a burden though!"

Fayre wasn't entirely sure if this would go well or not, but it didn't matter- It was a chance. "When can we start?"
Grenn gave a wry smile. This girl was certainly naive, but she could be taught. Or so it seemed. "It's too late to start tonight, but as soon as the sun rises on the morrow we can start. I'll show you a place where you can sleep...There might even be some warmer clothes that are small enough to fit you."

Grenn jerked his head in toward a small area that was parallel to the barracks. It wasn't much, but it had a bed and would shelter the girl from any wind.
Fayre gave Jon a glance before following off after Grenn. He did not enter the room, but pushed it open for her to enter "You will know then it's time to get. No one sleeps in here."

Fayre nodded a quiet thanks to him and watched as he walked off for a moment before retiring to the room.

Grenn was not lying when he said no one slept in. The men were all incredibly loud in everything they did. She was used to being in the far corner of her home where the sounds of the day beginning could not be heard. She let out a groan and rolled out of bed. She had switched out her normal attire and into something more appropriate. Grenn had managed to find clothes small enough to fit her. Gone were her bright green clothes. They were replaced with a plain white shirt that she wore her brown corset over and a thicker pair of trousers. The trousers themselves were a little looser than she would have liked, but it was all they had. She was gifted a large black cloak as well, but she wasn't entirely sure if she could wear it as long as the others did. It was so heavy that it weighed on her small frame. It was a challenge to walk in.

She sauntered outside to where Grenn and Edd were gathered. Both the men were looking at her with contorted facial expressions. It was clear they were trying not to laugh at her. She was certain she looked foolish, but she didn't think it was that bad. "You go ahead and laugh while you can. I'll be taking those smiles away fairly soon."

Edd let out a hearty laugh "You are a cocky lass. That might hurt you in the future."

Fayre rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest like a spoiled young girl would do "I'm sure. Anyway, when will we start training? I need to get as much help as I can."

Grenn was the one to answer this time "Well, we figured Jon would be the one to handle your training. After all you two know each other... he just hasn't come out yet. Probably tending to that beast of his."

Fayre bit down on her lip nervously. She was sure Jon would be an excellent teacher, but she wasn't sure he'd want to teach her "I don't really think he would want to teach me."

"Well, I wasn't going to give him much of a choice. In fact, I already told him you would be training him. Didn't give him much of a chance to reply though. I left right after I said it. If you want you can talk to him about it yourself though. Here he comes now."

​

Margaery shrugged nonchalantly at Cassia's question "I simply hate have those big guards follow me around all the time. They are quite the nuisance. Someone like you would be much less obvious. " Margaery paused for a moment and tilted her head "Besides, if you were to say...work for me, then both of our guard problems would be solved. You wouldn't have to be followed so closely because I'd be here to observe you and I wouldn't have to worry about those boring fools bothering me"

Margaery was aware that Cassia could easily turn on her, but that wouldn't be wise. After all, if Margaery turned up dead with Cassia as her guard it wouldn't take long at all to figure out who did it. The girl would be dead before Margaery's body was cold. "I could easily convince Jeoffry to allow you to stay at my side. He isn't very hard to convince. "

It might have been unwise to speak of the king in that manner, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Cassia did not care. She seemed more interested in the issues in the North than the South. "I can also assure that I would lend assistance in any squabbles the Boltons might have. So long as I can convince Jeoffry that he would benefit from it. "

Margaery wasn't entirely sure that Cassia would agree to be a guard, but it was worth a try. If she didn't want to that was fine, but she would continue to be stuck with the men in their shiny armor with their oversized swords. "So, what do you say? I can even offer you some form of payment. It wouldn't be much, but you could buy yourself clothes that you felt suited you more...or other things."

Personally, Margaery thought her proposition was a great one so, she didn't give Cassia much time to think. Instead, she stared at her with one of her famous sickeningly sweet smiles and an expecting look. In her mind, they were helping each other.

 

[Lucyfer]

Jon was surprised at how late it had gotten – he swore he hadn’t woken up that long ago, and already it was evening. No matter, he was off to bed, imagining he must have spent too long in it the other day and feeling disgruntled at how many duties he must have forsaken. So, he made sure to wake earlier that day to begin to set things up in the yard for the many recruits. He barely heard Grenn tell him he’d be teaching Fayre.

He expected he’d be teaching many that day, after all.

Word was also passed down through the ranks that the evening dinner would come with an announcement. Jon was certain that meant movement towards selecting an actual Lord Commander, but he didn’t dare to hold his breath.

When he was certain there were enough arrows and targets for the archers, as well as enough blunted swords to train with, he went to find some of the others who had agreed to assist as teachers, and soon came upon Grenn and Eddison, speaking with Fayre. He couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled at his lips at the gathering, “You two need to stop procrastinating – Olly needs help with the bow and no one’s there.”

He gave Eddison a meaningful look, and Edd scoffed, but then smiled, “All right, I’ll get to it,” he walked off, waving to Fayre, with Grenn not far on his heels.

Jon gave a nod to Lady Cerwyn then, keeping his mind focused more on the formalities of this. For now, there was no issue – no one had complained of her staying, nor had anyone spoken of her training, not that many knew. He doubted it would last. Soon enough, Alliser would catch wind of it – but for now, he could offer what he could, and hope it would be enough to help her back home.

“Let’s go to the training yard, lady Cerwyn,” he motioned for her to follow him, to where others would finally be arriving to begin their own training and sparring matches.

Margaery’s request was a curious one, but Cassia did not allow her expression to show the depth of her thought. The brow that had arched earlier, lowered as she spoke, expression thoughtful, as it should be as a listener, but no more. She did not reveal if she thought it a good idea, nor a bad idea. She only found it made her more curious as to why Margaery wanted her around, knowing so little about her.

She also made the offer clear – that she would assist in any familial squabbles that arose with the Boltons, and she’d stated earlier she would favor Cassia. Payment was offered, as if she were poor – she almost laughed at that, but of course, she didn’t.

She didn’t have any funds on her. What wealth she had was in the North.

Margaery tried to stare her down with that sweet smile of hers, but Cassia wasn’t buying it. There was too much offered, too easily, for someone Margaery didn’t know well – not that Cassia intended to protest it, but there were matters slipping Margaery’s mind. Cassia let her lips quirk briefly in a smirk, before a chuckle escaped her, and she rose, but only to slip into a kneel before the reclining woman.

It was a mockery of a knight’s gesture – Cassia would never be that. It required faith in the New Gods, but there was some humor to all of this that couldn’t go unacknowledged, “Even if I were to give my agreement, my lady,” she lifted a hand to idly rest upon one of Margaery’s, “It is not my say. This hawk is currently in the possession of Tywin Lannister, or have you forgotten already? You will have to buy me from him, and even then,” she canted her head slightly, “when my lord father has secured my freedom, a guard duty is not going to keep me here in the South. Not that alone.”

The smile returned, smaller but no less wry, “I am not opposed, as I am sure in getting to know each other, you may learn the prices needed to keep me here for longer, but your first obstacle is not my desire – it is Tywin Lannister’s.”

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre couldn't help but smile when she saw Jon had a slight tug of one on his lips. For a moment she thought it had even been directed toward her, but as soon as his friends left, the smile was gone. She couldn't hide her disappointment, but she had screwed herself over. She cringed slightly when he addressed her formally instead of by name. It confirmed that he was still angry at her and rightfully so. He had called her Lady Cerwyn before, but this felt much colder. She probably had no place to ask him of this especially with how she had acted before, but it was worth a shot.

"Jon, please don't call me Lady Cerwyn."

She followed behind him listening to the sound of metal clash with metal. A sound she could avoid back home if it bothered her too much, but here it was constant. She didn't know how the men could possibly stay sane in these conditions. So much more cold than her home, louder, and some of the men were just awful. The gazes she received sent chills down her spine. She was certain that even though her figure was completely covered that they were thinking of dishonorable things. She quickened her pace to the point that she was now walking next to Jon instead of behind him. Being the lady of her castle she hadn't quite expereienced this kind of behavior. Any one who even thought of harming her could end up executed.

"Being here makes me realize how spoiled I was....I suppose father was right..."

She didn't quite explain what she meant because she was more so thinking aloud than to Jon, but words of comfort would certainly be welcome. Not that she deserved it. She tugged nervously at the hem of her new over-sized cloak wondering if she would off in some corner training or if it would be where the men could continue to watch her like some sort of hungry beast.

​

Margaery almost waved off the mention of Tywin Lannister. He was a stubborn and calculated old man, but it wasn't as though Cassia wouldn't be completely out of his sight. "I can handle Tywin Lannister. He may be a controlling man, but he isn't a fool. "

Margaery paused as she stared with a rather unimpressed expression etched onto her. She thought the mock kneel was cute, but she hadn't decided if it was intended to mock her or the knights who promised their life to the ones they served. Either way, it didn't matter her offer was quite serious. "I don't aim to posses you. I simply aim to give you more freedom. I remember what it was like to be locked up and unable to do anything except what the guards allowed me to do. That's why I learned to act a certain way. "

Her warm smile returned once more as she stood up and stretched. She loved her lounging chairs, but too long on them make her body feel stiff. " Tywin Lannister is no obstacle. He will have no reason to deny you. I am not allowed too far from the guards myself, but far away enough that you could enjoy a little more freedom. Besides, discreetness means that less people are to notice who I am and in turn remove some of the danger that surrounds me. "

Margaery let out a little giggle. Nothing too major as it could have easily com across as rude or even spiteful. She did not want to insult Cassia. She was the first interesting person she had encounter in long time. "You don't know how long you will be here little hawk. After the battle Tywin might require your father to do other things to prove is loyalty to the king and more importantly Tywin. Your freedoms will likely lessen in the castle unless of course, you were at my side. There are many things we can teach each other in the time that you are at be caged."

It was true that the more important person was Tywin. Jeoffry was wrapped around many peoples fingers and he hadn't realized it yet. He was a daft young man, but that just made it easier for Margaery. If Roose truly wanted his daughter back, he would have to do more than fight along side the king at one silly battle. Or at least that was her opinion. She didn't think he was too trusting of a man. Despite that, she was certain she could convince him to let Cassia be her gaurd.

"Once we get to the castle, I will speak directly with him and request you as a personal guard. If that doesn't work I can bring Jeoffry into the equation. He doesn't always listen to his grandfather as well as you might think.

 

[Lucyfer]

Jon heard her words, but he wasn’t yet certain if he intended to relent. He offered no immediate response to them, just kept walking. It was true, he was still touched by anger from how Fayre approached. When he’d known her, she had never seemed so entitled, or perhaps, he was just so used to the easy life himself that there was never any reason to see such a side to her.

As they came to the training grounds, where men of all sorts tested their mettle with the blade, she seemed to come to a similar conclusion: the Night’s Watch was far different than where she was from, and showed her another side of life that was no so kind. Being spoiled did one no favors here. Not that many came by choice in the first place. Some had to learn that the hard way.

“You’re a lady,” Jon said, adding hastily, “I do not mean that as any insult, but Sansa, even Arya, would find themselves out of sorts here." This was all men, for one reason. Some here for being rapists, others still, who hadn't been with a woman in ages and gave such pleasures up unwillingly. He was no stranger to their looks - they had done much the same with Gilly and Craster's daughters. It was no surprise they'd look upon a beauty like Fayre in such a way. "You weren’t ever meant to be in this kind of place. No lady is,” Jon pointed out, not sure if it would help her much to know that it wouldn’t be just her who felt out of place, “No good lord, either.”

He wasn’t a good lord, though. Just a highborn bastard who learned some fancy tricks with the sword, thanks to his fortune of being taken in. “I’m sorry. I was cross with you. I am cross with you,” he supposed it hadn’t quite settled, and he should be honest about it, as he grabbed two swords, a longsword for himself, and a lighter short sword for her. It’d do no good to tire her with too much weight on a blade.

He held it out to her, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, and neither of us are in a good place right now. You may not understand it, but it’s no lie that our situation is as dire as Thorne claims, even if he doesn’t go about it in the best way – and if I could, I would help. So I’ll help you here, as best I can, and if we can go to Craster’s, you may learn a bit about actual combat, though I’d ask you to stay back.”

When Fayre would take the blade, he would step away from her to occupy a position across from her, out of striking range.

Margaery saw Tywin as no threat. Cassia did wonder if it was arrogance, or a sincere belief that she could talk Tywin into what she wanted. No matter, it would serve Cassia if she did. Roose would want better relations with the Reach, and through Margaery that could be done. A friendship with Lady Margaery would have its perks, of course, though she knew her father would want something more solid.

Marriages always tied things up nicely. There were certainly Redwyne men available, second sons who needed prospects – and Margaery would have those ties. Loras was unlikely – the Knight of Flowers would not leave it behind for the North, and from what little Cassia had seen of him, she didn’t think he had the mettle.

Not like Margaery.

She rose when Margaery stood, eyes following her as she stretched, and claimed she did not wish to possess her. “You aim to possess something,” if it was not her, it was something she had, “I daresay it is just my ability to keep quiet on your thoughts of your beloved Joffrey.” Though that was certainly a perk, “I do not need to know just yet,” perhaps Margaery did not know, “I aim to gain, just as well.” Margaery had made no secret of being aware that Cassia wouldn’t be bought with only words and friendship.

She offered money and freedoms, after all. “I will consent to being your guard, should Tywin Lannister be convinced, and after that, we will see, but you should not underestimate my father so,” that wry smile remained, “My father is not going to fight a battle for Lord Tywin – he is Lord Stark’s personal advisor,” and there, she added, “My father is going to win the war.”

That in and of itself would be enough for one daughter – especially one daughter who established the connection in capture. A small secret, but Margaery had been offering tidbits of her actual views that were dangerous, so she thought her deserving enough of it. She wasn’t apt to run and tell Robb Stark he was going to be fed horrible advice until his untimely end.

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre was taken aback by Jon's response. She knew he was a kind soul, but she had not only pushed him, but insulted him on a personal level. She listened carefully to what he said. She nodded quietly. She definitely was not equipped for such a place, but for the good of her people and her own good, she needed to get used to this. Or, at the very least learn how to ignore the distasteful stares. "I realize that I am not exactly the best person to be here, but I have to. I can't go home empty handed. Not only would that be bad for my people, but it bad for me."

She paused for a moment wanting to speak carefully so she did not insult Jon any further than she had "You're right I don't understand the severity of your situation here and I am grateful for the little assistance you are able to offer me. However, you also don't completely understand my situation. "

Fayre wasn't going to go into any further details or continue talking about the situations that either of them were facing. At least not while Jon had a large sword in his hand. She didn't think he'd harm her, but he was larger than her and if she blocked a swing fueled by anger it could spell bad for her. She grabbed the sword that Jon passed to her. Despite the handle being wrapped in leather, it was cold to the touch and heavier than she expected. She had never really tried to handle anything heavier than a dagger. She preferred to fight from afar, but that didn't seem to be an option. She shifted the blade so that she could see her reflection in it. She saw the nervousness in her eyes, but also a determination.

"You don't need to apologize. I was particularly awful to you."

She paused and shifted her gaze up to him. Her blue eyes would lock with his dark brown nearly black ones. She readied herself tightening her grip on the handle of the blade. "It has been a while. Maybe we can catch up properly later, but for now, you have a few things to teach me...don't you?"

Margaery smirked as Cassia guessed, rather poorly, at what she wanted. Information was certainly something that Margaery desired, but it was more than that. Cassia was entertaining and seemed like she could be a better friend than her little birds. Margaery was constantly surrounded by people. However, those were not true companions. In fact, she was either using them or they were using her. It got quite tiring, but Margaery would never tell her that.

Margaery nodded fully understanding what Cassia meant. She really didn't need further explanation. She had no doubt in her mind that the south would win the war. Not because the North was weak, but because the Lannisters had funds that seemed to never end and Robb Stark was not the leader he needed to be. In fact, he was incredibly naive. He seemed to go more with emotions that with than with logic.

"I have no doubt that your father will help win the war. After he is very talented. I just hope that there won't be too much suffering"
She was very much so aware that this was war, but there was no need for innocent people to be harmed. It was true that Margaery used people to help her gain, but she wanted to use her gains to help the little ones. She genuinely cared.
"Well, it is getting late little hawk. I'm told we will be moving out tomorrow. You can stay here tonight if you like or, you can go back to your tent if you like."

 

[Lucyfer]

The topic of their respective situations, thankfully, did not continue. It was not a good conversation before combat, as either of them were liable to let their emotions take over their senses. He observed instead how she held the blade. It was clear he may have given her one too heavy, but there were not lighter options. There were daggers, but he didn’t see the point in giving her one. A dagger would not help her much unless she wanted to wear herself out evading.

She needed to be prepared to retain her energy. A fight beyond the wall would sap it from the sheer cold, wearing down anyone’s agility. That, and those beyond favored heavier weapons like axes and the like. A dagger was not a good weapon choice for anyone in such battles.

He didn’t respond to the words of apology, or need. Perhaps he didn’t, yet it still felt right to do so. He wasn’t sure how encouraged he felt with the thought of catching up, but he nodded. He wouldn’t really know how he felt unless they pursued it, but he wondered if they even could stay on such an easy topic with such heavy burdens upon them.

“Aye, I do,” he agreed, “and I need to see what you know already, so I want you to come at me. I’m only going to block or dodge,” he reassured, “I want to see your stance and your swing, and how you respond,” he noted, to explain why he would want that.

Then, he would wait, checking her stance, and unable to help himself as he thought, ‘I wonder if she knows about the pointy end.’

Gods, how he missed Arya.

‘No, there won’t.’ Roose Bolton may be a sadist, but when he put his mind to something, he was subtle. The moment would be quick, like a snake’s bite, and over just as quickly. Robb would barely have time to realize he had been betrayed, because Roose knew what would happen if he failed. He would be dead, instead.

“We all hope for a quick, and mostly painless, end,” Cassia could agree to that, though her thoughts lingered over the smirk of earlier, a smirk that told her she had not fully understood Margaery. In truth, she never would have guessed Margaery sought a true companion in her. She was just as used to using people as Margaery, the wound of Domeric still too fresh for her to consider an actual companion that could come close to what he had been to her.

Her view had become quite jaded, in general, after what Ramsay did, and what she’d been taught. She was not so manipulative as Margaery, but her view of others was just as dim, in general.

At the offer to stay, she only shook her head, even if there was a part that wanted to linger, “As tempting as that offer is, you still have to make your impression on Joffrey,” and a whisper of her being so close to a prisoner, and a Bolton, would not do her any good. It was also better than stating that while the offer was tempting, it was just as repulsive to the part of Cassia that wanted to remain so jaded and untrusting, that wanted to see the worst in others to make it easier to use them.

And so, she would leave the tent, and return to her own to rest, waking with the light when it came, and traveling along with the rest of the caravan as the news spread that Lord Tywin Lannister had won against Lord Stannis Baratheon. King’s Landing was secured.

That first day should have been without issue, and it seemed so until the evening, as Cassia sought permission to use the nearby river to bathe. It was some freedom from the guards, and was meant to be some piece of mind for herself, and yet, it seemed she was not the only one who thought to head nearer to the river. Her attire was dressed down a bit - no point in wearing one of those dresses only to have to take it off, so she was able to grab a long tunic and slacks. They did not fit her so well as the dresses, but given the purpose to be quick to get out of and quick to get on, it worked well.

Of course, dressed like that, she woul dsee the Lady Margaery Tyrell, and she found herself mentally cursing the plain attire.

And then she saw a few men who were, quite clearly, not guards, and decided this wasn't so bad, after all.

Cassia did not linger on the outskirts nor intend to observe long, she broke from her intended path to approach, not masking it, speaking out, even, “My lady, who are your friends?”

 

[ShiroKuma]

Fayre nodded as concern began to creep into her. She was no longer excited to do her training. She was fearful that she would fail herself and Jon, but she was also worried about that safety of Jon. What if she hurt him? It was true that she wasn't exactly the strongest lady in the North, but she couldn't imagine having a sword swung at her would be fun or safe...or easily avoidable. Perhaps she was giving herself too much credit. She attempted to push her concerns to the side though.

Fayre readied her stance by spreading her feet apart. At this point, her feet were lined up with her shoulders. She slightly bent her knees so that she would be able to move quickly and put force into her blows. She placed both hands on the grip of the sword, but instead of allowing space between them, she gripped as tight as she possibly could and pushed her hands as close together as possible. It was apparent that she was a beginner. She took a run towards Jon, but mid-run she stopped in her tracks. Obviously, this would have been fatal in battle, but she allowed her concerns to get the best of her

"Jon, I know that you are trained well and all, but...um...what if I hurt you?"

She paused for a moment with concern washing over her face. She bared her teeth in a nervous, unintimidating way. It looked as though she had words that she wanted to say, but she had forgotten them or she was thinking carefully in order to not insult Jon.

"You know...even if this blade is dull, it will still hurt if I hit you with it. "

Margaery was dressed in a white dress that fit her loosely. She intended to take it off to bathe in the river, but had not started yet. She was in the process of undoing the intracate braids in her hair as Cassia approached her. She greeted her with a pleasant smile. The reflection of the sun on the river behind her making her look all the more beautiful. Her body highlighted by the light that surrounded her. It almost looked as though she was glowing.

"Ah, little hawk, I did not expect to see you."

Margaery examined her companions attire and was slightly shocked, but Cassia was of the North and she likely didn't expect to see anyone at the river. So, it was dismissable. Oddly enough, the drab attire allowed Margaery to see the true beauty of the girl before her. Which forced an even wider smile on Margaery. It was a shocking yet pleasing sight indeed, to be able to see someone beautiful even in the worst clothing possible.
Upon hearing Cassia's question, Margaery turned to see a small troop of large, intimidating men standing off to the side. Her heart sank. She did not know them, but she had a feeling their intentions were not honorable. "Cassia, I do not know those men and I fear they are here with less than desirable intentions. "
She gently grabbed hold of Cassia's arm and would begin to attempt to casually walk away, but the men caught onto her sshrade. Within a blink of an eye, they were bellowing down towards them and Margaery was frozen with fear.

 

[Lucyfer]

​

Jon readied himself mentally for Fayre’s forward assault, noting how she placed herself, both her feet and her hands. He would have to instruct a bit on the latter, in particular, but for now he reminded himself to first see how it played out and not mess with her confidence before she even started. He had already braced himself when she rushed forward, but then, she came to a dead halt.

It did cause a quizzical expression to cross his face, but she explained herself before he could ask…and then he laughed, unable to help it.

“Aye, I expect I will get hurt,” he agreed. A sword was still a weapon that could hurt someone even in the hands of a three-year old, even blunted. He knew that from Rickon. “I’ve been hurt by the likes of Rickon and Bran, even Arya, I expect I’ll be hurt by you. It comes with the territory of learning to spar. You have to anticipate being wounded.”

Did she not expect to get hurt? His own posture relaxed a bit. “You are prepared to take injury yourself, aren’t you?” Was it a stupid question? It sounded like it to his own ears, but she had just stopped out of fear of hurting him. Perhaps she was not, in fact, ready for the reverse at all, or expected that somehow she would not be hurt.

She would be. There was no helping that, no matter how much Jon didn't want to wound her. And he didn't - no matter how angry she'd made him earlier, he hardly wanted to see her wounded or upset.

There had been a glow to Margaery on the approach that might have stilled some lips in contemplation. She was truly meant for the sun, and to be highlighted in such a way. It added color and vibrancy to her hair, and the white made the glow seem all the more, but it was not where Cassia could linger, no matter how she may have wanted to.

Practical concerns were more important.

Margaery did not know the men, and seemed to understand the potential for danger, just as they realized their prey was attempting to escape them. Perhaps if Cassia had been a knight, they would have let it go, but as she was just another woman – well, she hardly intimidated them, and they decided to rush ahead.

Margaery froze. Cassia did not. She brushed Margaery’s hand off her arm, moved a bit closer to the river, and took a few of the smooth rocks out from it. She didn’t have a weapon, but she could make do with what was around her – the men seemed bandits in piece-meal armor, and no helmets.

The first rock struck home to one man’s head and he faltered back, before Cassia launched all that she’d picked up in a wide swing, catching the remaining three in the burst. “Get’er!” One of them shouted, no doubt the leader.

One man peeled off as Cassia bent to make it appear she wanted more rocks. He came behind her and yanked that arm back, pulled Cassia from the river, and received her other hand’s palm up against his nose, a slam that caused blood to spurt and clearly disoriented him.

He released her arm, and Cassia had his sword in the next second, and him impaled on it as she rounded on the others, hoping the death of one would be sufficient to send them running, but if not – well, it was good she was doing this before her bath.