Chapter 20 - Late Night Talking

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the world appearing in this story, they are creations and property of the fantastic George R. R. Martin. I’m not sure if I can claim my OCs as my own, so I’ll play it safe and dedicate them to GRRM.

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The following contributors deserve thanks for their support in making this chapter possible: frimorigo, Siva Chandan, Adam Daw and Higg Ygyyfd. Your support means the world to me, and I am truly grateful.

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[Year - 298 AC]

She supposed it was a bit presumptuous to have assumed without having been aware of everything that had happened, but was it really such a severe crime as to have warranted being utterly ignored for days on end?

There were conversations happening across the hall on various different topics – it was rare for so many lords to gather at a single location after all. However, her eyes unwittingly found him, as he teased Leonette while simultaneously throwing shade at Garlan. She could see just how irritated Garlan was, but he was keeping mum in lieu of swearing owing to his wife’s presence.

"Garlan can be a bit shy, Leonette. All that bravado only ever comes out on the field," he said, sliding a hand around Garlan, who in turn tried to wiggle it off. However, Harry's grip stayed true. "He might have wedded, but you'll have to show him how to go about the bedding."

“Harry, stop! He can do so well enough when he wants to…” Leonette said with a chuckle, peeking at the blush adorning her husband’s face. However, she realised the slip of her tongue the moment she uttered the words.

It surprised Margaery to learn just how close they must be for Leonette to not wrinkle her nose at the crass talk. She prided herself on being outspoken and clever at divining such things, and she had a very lively relationship with her goodsister. Hence, it shocked her to find them on such close terms without the topic ever having gained much momentum in their talks. Oh, she’d talked about Harry before, but only ever in context to Garlan and not of their own relationship. The past few weeks had had her questioning whether she even knew her own family.

“Can he now…” Harry said as he nudged Garlan, “that’s certainly news to me – seems like a sword is not all that he knows how to us–”

Garlan’s fist moved to punch him, and Harry jumped out of the way, trying to escape. A plate clattered to the floor as he inadvertently bumped into it.

“Oh sod off,” he told Garlan, picking up the plate and passing it to a maid as she moved hurriedly; within moments she’d replaced it with a new plate. Harry thanked her as he sat back down and Margaery could see the girl smile as she ran off.

“Anyone here can take some ribbing,” he said, returning to the conversation, as he indicated to each of them seated nearby, motioning towards them one by one with his head as he met their gaze with a crooked smile. His eyes barely met hers before he moved on to Talla Tarly as the girl chuckled at his antics. Her hands clenched below the table.

"You can take it, right?" Harry asked with mirth in his tone, having focused on Samwell Tarly, who in turn went red. She wondered how the boy could manage to blush so much that even his hands were coloured. She hadn't seen even girls blush that much, and she had seen many of them do so when it came to Loras – and Harry as well since his arrival.

“That’s enough, Harry,” Lord Tarly said, his expression one of distaste, from his place near her father. His attention must have turned to them when the plate fell. “Do you have to bring such crass talk to the supper table?”

“I’m merely worried for my friend,” Harry replied in tune, showing no discouragement. “He’s without child even years into the marriage, is it not my duty to worry?”

Lord Tarly must have been in quite a lot of arguments with him; because he conceded almost immediately. Turning back to her father, he continued whatever talk they’d been having.

Chuckling, Harry went back to taunting Garlan.

She turned her attention back to her bowl, which had gone cold since being served, and she did not have an appetite large enough to ask for a refresh. Bringing her hand to the spoon, she was surprised to find it still clenched. Her eyes flicked back to the lively group to see Willas laughing at something Harry had told him while Garlan peered at Loras and Prince Renly. His face had the same look he often wore these days. Noticing what she had, Harry pulled Garlan out of his reverie with a slap to his head, and they both descended into a quarrel yet again.

Scooping up some of the soup and bringing it to her mouth, she allowed her gaze to flow across the hall. It was fuller than it had been in years.

In addition to her own family, the most prominent addition to supper this evening were the Dornish, surprisingly, and not the Tarlys. The Daynes from Starfall in addition to a small party from Blackhaven were to join them on their trip to King’s Landing. Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven was betrothed to Lady Allyria Dayne and was the one caring for the remaining Daynes since the previous Lord Dayne’s passing. Her gaze found the young lord as he intimately conversed with his betrothed at the corner of the room, not minding anyone. Margaery wasn’t too fond of the man. He was nice and courteous enough, but there was something odd to him.

Towards the end of the room, the young Edric Dayne was conversing happily with a boy around his own age. Garlan had told her that the boy, Harmon, was an addition to Harry’s retinue from his trip to Starfall many years ago. She wondered why the boy merited being picked up.

Closer to her on the table were the party from Horn Hill. While Lady Tarly was seated with her mother, Lord Tarly’s children were seated closer to her.

The girls were conversing with some of her cousins, while the boy, Dickon, kept to himself, all the while sneaking peeks at Harry's group, wanting to join them. The youngest girl, Ryene Tarly, was talking to Alla, but was not having much luck in getting a lot from the shy girl, while the oldest, Talla Tarly, was talking with Elinor. The middle one was the most interesting, however, for she was also looking at Harry, but it was more of a glare in scorn than admiration. Margaery felt that she probably also had the same look in her eyes.

As Margaery absentmindedly kept her eyes on the girl, Selyse suddenly huffed and turned away. Shifting her gaze to Harry, she saw him looking at Selyse with an awkward expression while Samwell muttered something in his ear. Turning away, his eyes locked with hers for a second before they moved away instantly without any acknowledgement. Her anger returned once again, and she focused it on the soup in front of her.

Through the corner of her eye, she could see him bidding her father and Lord Tarly as he left the hall with Samwell. That was exactly what she had been waiting for since witnessing their secret meeting the previous night.

Quickly drinking whatever soup that was left, she said her goodbyes and exited. Reaching the passageway outside, she looked to both sides wondering where they could’ve gone. Taking a leap of faith, she took the path leading to the part of the castle leading to their chambers. It was a challenge to move quietly while also quickly enough to not miss their rendezvous.

For all her efforts, it still took her a long time to find them. They were standing in an alcove that hung off a floor above. It was a good spot to not be overheard – the entrance to the alcove was an open hall, they’d see anyone loitering nearby and the floor above and below were far enough for their voice to not get carried. Not having any choice she went to stand directly below the alcove.

Five and ten years she’d spent in the realm and she’d never had to stoop so low. She wondered why she was doing so now.

The wind carried down soft murmurs, igniting a spark of hope in her. She stood there for what felt like hours – simmering in the hope of finding something, anything, but all she’d caught at the end were loose words with no meaning to them – ‘...was a spy…’, ‘...promised my aunt…’ and ‘...can start mining by…’. Interesting words they were, but of no use to her nonetheless.

It took a few more moments before their conversation ended, and they parted to go their separate ways. Presented with a choice, in the heat of the moment, she chose to follow Harry in lieu of withdrawing.

She cursed herself as he made his way straight to his room. It seemed there were no more detours for the day. Wondering if she should just leave, she hesitantly put one leg in front of the other, all the while trying not to make a sound and keeping herself within the shadows.

Suddenly something was flung onto Harry just as he neared the room. It took her a second to realise that the something was a person.

"I've been waiting for you, milord," the girl said. The first thing that crossed Margaery's mind was the serving girl from the hall, which caused a burst of anger, but as she sidled nearby, she could see that it was someone else. She couldn't identify the girl, which made her an outsider, and the lack of Dornish features meant that she couldn't be from Starfall or Blackhaven. The girl was from Horn Hill.

"Alyssa," he said, holding up the girl, "I wouldn't have expected Selyse to have included you in the retinue."

Margaery couldn’t see him from behind, but she could see the girl, who smiled shyly at the comment.

“It was Lord Samwell, milord,” she said, keeping him close. “He asked Lady Tarly to pick me for a handmaiden.”

“Samwell did?” Harry said, and she could hear the smirk that must have appeared on his face. “He’s getting brave now, isn’t he?”

The girl only hummed as she tried to catch his lips. With a sigh, he placed her down and bent to kiss her. It lasted longer than Margaery would have expected, following her experience, before he pulled back.

“I can’t, Alyssa,” he said, his tone sounding a little sad. “Selyse is already put off with me, I can’t draw her ire any more.”

“One last time, milord,” the girl said, trying to pull herself up to him. “Jocelyn told me, she did. That you wouldn’t return from the tourney.”

“Jocelyn did, did she?” he said, the grin reappearing in his voice. With a teasing tone, he continued, “How did she find out, I wonder.”

The girl blushed. Whatever the reason had been for the information leak, it hadn’t been proper.

“She slept with a northern soldier, milord,” she muttered.

Leaning down, he kissed her once. “For one more you’ll give me a name.”

“I would if I knew, milord,” she said pleadingly, “but I don’t. She never did tell.”

He stared at her for a moment before giving in. Letting out a long breath, he caressed her face.

“Just today,” he said. “You wouldn’t want me to keep thinking about you throughout the trip, would you?”

“You can take me with you,” the girl suggested.

She was sly, Margaery would give her that. Either she or whoever was advising her, probably this Jocelyn. The girl herself didn't look too bright, to be honest.

"My uncle would send me back if I were to bring a girl with me," he said with a laugh. Margaery was impressed; she wasn't giving him enough credit.

The girl moved to reply, but he picked her up as she squealed and walked into the room, swiftly closing the door behind them.

She stood there, mildly overcome by the events and contemplating what she had witnessed. She’d not gotten anything that she’d sought out, but there had been some interesting occurrences nonetheless.

“Krrk – croak!” she heard to the side as she stood lost in thought.

Startled, she turned to find a bird sitting on the parapet. The darkness kept it hidden, so she moved a little forward to get a good look at it in intrigue. After all, nightfall had passed some time ago, and birds don't usually fly this late. The startled bird took flight as she got closer but not before she got a look at it. It was a raven, a black one, but it didn't look to be doing too well. Bending down, she picked up a fallen feather. The barbs on the shaft were all broken and weathered. By the look of the feather, the bird had to be quite old, and the state of the barbs didn't foretell a long life ahead of it.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Why care for a bird when there were many more things that she ought to think over? She was no closer to figuring out Garlan's issue nor was she any closer to finding out the reason for her permittance in attending the tourney.

Once again, she heard some sound to her side, but this time through the wall. Quickly gathering herself, she left to ponder over what she'd learned.

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“Margaery,” she heard from behind as she made her way to break her fast. She had already turned halfway when she realised just who had called out to her. Elinor nudged her, which she promptly ignored.

“Harry,” she greeted with a small bow.

“It’s a good morning, isn’t it?” he asked, gazing at the sky, a hand to his head.

Margaery had roused at her usual time, as she did every day, so he must have been awake for hours by now.

‘What does he want?’ she thought to herself, but she was also surprised as to why he would talk to her after days of cold-shoulder.

"It certainly is," she agreed, and continued with a slight hint of curiosity, "I don't see Garlan with you...?"

“I made do with some of the men,” he answered as a smirk bloomed on his face. “He must have had quite the late night after what I’d put him through.”

“It would be nice to have a nephew to dote on,” she answered cordially, not in any mood to jest, while the others chuckled at the statement.

His smile dimmed at her lack of enthusiasm.

“May I get a moment?” he asked her cousins. It took them a moment to understand what he’d meant.

"Oh yes," Elinor said, "we'll move along and wait for you."

Pulling along the others, Alla a little reluctantly, she ushered them away to the hall.

"Right..." he said awkwardly, "I heard you'd come by – last night, that is. Did you have something to say?"

‘I was spotted!’ she thought in shock. It caught her completely off guard that she nearly trembled in trepidation. Thinking back to all the places she could have been spotted, nothing came to her mind. And any guards that might have seen her wouldn't have reported to him – grandmother maybe, but not him.

‘Just how much does he know,’ she wondered as she gazed at his expression, but he gave nothing away.

“For what we’d talked of earlier… er – about Garlan,” she replied cautiously, as he motioned for her to answer.

He pressed his lips together, forming them into a thin line as his expression conveyed his disbelief. Gradually, his expression shifted to a blank visage as he held her eye. She had seen him do this on various occasions before; it was captivating.

Just as suddenly as his expression changed, it quickly reverted back. Taking a step forward, he pushed her behind a pillar, and she didn't dare complain, for there was a glint in his eye as if he knew something.

“I’ll tell you, Mar,” he said, coming close within earshot. “Maybe you really do deserve to know this – he’s your brother after all... both of them are.”

“What?” she asked rather unintelligently. None of what he said made any sense.

“The issue with Garlan – it has to do with Loras and Renly,” he said slowly with measured words. “Now do with this information as you will. I only hope this will clear out any enmity between us.”

She nodded blankly, her mind whirring with what she’d learnt.

With the usual smirk adorning his face, he pulled back. He didn’t leave, however, as he kept close and observed her almost as if he knew everything that was going on in her mind, and she returned the gaze throughout, wondering what he was going to do.

Almost suddenly something changed as he moved a little closer. She didn’t pull back.

The kiss was short, almost soft even, compared to what he had given the maid the night before, but it nearly pushed away what she had learned.

Moving away from the kiss, he pulled back completely, and with a wink, he was gone.

It hadn't meant anything, she was sure of it – he had done it to rattle her, but why? Or was she wrong? And what did Garlan find issue in with Loras and Garlan?

There were two avenues she had to figure out at the moment, and she knew which one to go about to begin with.