The Stranger denied me the pleasure. It's just as well. My family has never been overly-fond of the hunt. Grandfather was mad for hawking though. T'was a sad day when he chased one of those birds right off a cliff.

[At least that's how her grandmother tells it. The so-called Queen of Thorns had many a barb on her tongue for her late husband as well as her son. "The Lord Oafs of Highgarden," she called them. Margaery took it all in good stride. After all, the Lady Olenna always saved a smile for her as the favored granddaughter.]

Besides, there's much to see and hear at court if you know how to smile and curtsy and preen. Very much like a hunt all its own.