Four Good Sisters

In a world where Rhaegar Targaryen won the Battle of the Trident and gained the daughter he had wished for, four sisters regularly meet. Arianne Martell, Rhaenys Stark, Visenya Tyrell, and Margaery Targaryen all want to maintain the peace after all. fem!Jon, Targaryen!Jon

x

"To Arianne Martell and the end of a glorious era! The Wildcat has been snared at last!"

"To Arianne!"

Three crystal flutes rung together before the reddish-violet wine was thrown back by the other ladies in the room. The bride-to-be seemed to spend a second debating the effectiveness of tossing her glass- or the decanter- at them entirely before grimacing and swallowing her own drink.

"An entire lifetime shackled to one man," the Princess of Dorne lamented, "Gods, this will be awful!"

"Not necessarily," Visenya's dark eyes sparkled. "If he's anything like his brother, then he won't exactly be lacking where it counts."

"Oh? I doubt it'll match up to my northerman, sister," Rhaenys smirked. "With my delicate, southern constitution, I need to be kept warm as often as possible after all."

Raising one brow challengingly, the young Lady Tyrell of Highgarden leaned forward and whispered a number into her sister's ear. Reluctantly impressed, Rhaenys poured them all a second- or fifth- glass.

"Now I know why you spent the next day limping then. I salute you for your courage, dear sister."

"Oh, the first two were the only ones that really needed courage," Visenya demurred. "Hmm, did I forget to mention how little I slept during my wedding night? Willas is a perfectionist, you know."

Rhaenys whistled. "It's always the quiet ones."

Visenya's wicked grin promised an elaboration before Margaery, eyes half-glassy from the wine, reached over for a none-too-ladylike slap over the head. "That's my brother, you wench!"

"And I'll have to be married to the other one!" Arianne wailed, back to her woes. "I don't- I don't- where is the Dornish sour?"

All four highborn ladies blinked and looked around numbly for the missing drink. The culprit was finally found to be an empty jug tipped over to the floor. "It's finished!"

Before Arianne could start crying, or more likely, throw the jug at one of them, Rhaenys gestured for the standing knight to bring them the other jug. Ser Oswell Whent complied with the expression of one questioning each of his life decisions and finding them all wanting.

"To Dornish Sour!" Arianne toasted.

"To Dornish Sour!" Rhaenys and Visenya half-heartedly echoed.

"I like Arbor Gold better," Margaery sulked. Arianne threw a pillow at her.

"Good. Back to my troubles," the Dornish Princess' eyebrows bunched up. "What were my troubles?"

"You didn't want to be shackled to one man for life," Visenya helpfully offered.

"Exactly! Damn Garlan and damn my father and damn all the stupid laws of the Seven!"

"You're taking this too negatively, cousin. He's a knight- gallant and all that. Smart. Trainable."

"Like how you trained your bloody Stark then?"

Rhaenys preened. "Robb's not a knight but he definitely follows the code of chivalry. All sweet and gentle until you can get the wolf's blood in him riled up. Then he becomes an utter Northern savage."

"Hey! I resemble that comment!" Visenya looked at the dwindling glasses. "Top up?"

"Yes, please." Came three near-identical choruses. The dark-haired girl poured additional wine in and then adjusted the reflective decanter on the desk.

"Aegon has a dominating kink." Margaery rolled her eyes. "I swear if we have to play dragon conqueror and his pleasure slave one more time…"

"Oh, I can't talk about Willas' near exhibitionist tendencies but you can diss my brother if you like?"

"You never actually got caught," Margaery smirked. "Not for lack of trying though, huh, screamer?"

"Voyeur," Visenya shot back. "How many punishments did you get when Aegon found out?"

"None, since he seemed to like watching as much as your husband likes being watched."

"Now, now ladies, keep the claws in," Rhaenys stated, giving them hard looks. "Everyone has their preferences. Robb likes to bite me. I think it's something to do with marking his territory?"

"How inconsiderate. Doesn't he know you need to wear shortsleeves in this heat?"

"I'd be more worried about these awful smells than any heat." Margaery stood to slam the windows shut herself, staggering slightly forward and waving Ser Whent away.

"That's one thing I miss about the North," Rhaenys sighed. "After my husband's bed but before my goodmother's nagging."

"You've charmed half the men in court to their knees," Arianne looked astounded. "How do you still have trouble with your goodmother?"

"Lady Catelyn is determined to believe that all women are unworthy of her precious firstborn, even Princesses of the Realm," Rhaenys huffed, amused. "At least Visenya's trip north showed her how much worse it could have been with the other sister."

Visenya perked up. "That reminds me, has the outer wall been rebuilt?"

"It has. They left a pile of stones besides the Godswood though. Named it the Maiden's Folly."

"Poor choice then. Willas took care of that before the trip to Winterfell."

"How did you lose your maidenhead before the wedding?" Rhaenys demanded. "Lady Alerie was watching you like a- no, wait, she wasn't watching you at all, was she? You probably walked right down the corridor to his room and no one batted an eye."

"They were too eager to have a dragon good daughter to care for any of that propriety nonsense," the future Queen of Westeros snickered, "Father would have bodily thrown Willas into her arms if it would have made the betrothal move any faster."

"I still can't believe you decided to have a marriage ceremony in the godswood, cousin."

"Well I couldn't let my dear older sister be the only heathen in the family!" Visenya replied brightly.

"Don't listen to her," Rhaenys ordered. "She heard the Starks got their hands on a litter of direwolf pups and promptly decided that she must get married in Winterfell."

"Some-one's jea-lous," Visenya sang. She leaned forward to pet the white ruff of a massive wolf. Ghost tilted his nose upwards, sniffed, and barked two times.

"Of this gorgeous beast, anyone would be," Arianne cooed. She poured some wine into her hand and let the direwolf lick it clean. "Better than any husband could ever be, isn't that right?"

Ghost nuzzled her palm in answer.

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, just dance for him," Margaery surrendered. "Garlan has a weakness for shaking hips and plush behinds and you don't seem to have any issues with using your backdoor."

"An adventurous one then?" Arianne's eyes lit up. "I can work with that. How does he feel about threesomes?"

As Margaery was exasperatedly sharing her brother's particular affectations, Rhaenys tipped her head back, squinted her eyes past the light, and gulped the wine down. A set of strategically placed mirrors showed her that the room had emptied to themselves and the ever-suffering Ser Whent.

"Okay, ladies. Room's cleared and we have business to get to," Rhaenys announced, sitting up. She put her glass down and surveyed the others with steady golden-brown eyes.

"Finally! You'd think Varys or Tywin or the rest would have better things to do than listen to a bunch of women gossip over their sex lives," Visenya grumbled. "Stand guard outside, Ghost. Bark once for family, twice for a spy. If you see a lion, don't hesitate to take a bite out."

"Unless it's the Imp," the Princess added as an afterthought. "I like that guy."

"Hard to believe he's a Lannister," Arianne agreed. "How much water did you pour into this wine anyway? I could barely taste anything."

"That's because it's water with a little pomegranate juice. No reason to water down good wine."

Margaery looked towards the Kingsguard expectantly and Ser Whent came forward with several rolls of inked parchment.

"Thank you, Ser. Now, our first order of business: Baratheon's drinking and whoring his way through the Stormlands' revenue. By year's end, he'll be defaulting on his taxes again."

"Hmm, I'd say replace him with a brother but the smallfolk will fight against Stannis' heathen fire god and Renly is a fool."

"A pretty fool. Loras is quite taken with him."

"Your brother is another pretty fool. How about his bastards?"

"Arya's rather fond of one. A Gendry, I think? Not trained to rule but he respectful of Arya well enough. And this could be a good opportunity to bring the Stormlands back into the fold, so to speak."

"Keep that idea on the backburner. For this year's taxes, I suggest…"

x

To be clear, the marriages are:

Arianne Martell x Garlan Tyrell

Margaery Tyrell x Aegon Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen x Robb Stark

Visenya (fem!Jon) Targaryen x Willas Tyrell

They're the four cornerstones of the Great Tyrell-Targaryen-Stark-Martell Alliance with three Targaryen's, three Tyrell's, three Martell's, and two Stark's involved. Visenya is the daughter of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen and her half-siblings are Rhaenys and Aegon. Robb is Visenya's cousin by blood and goodbrother by marriage, Margaery her goodsister by marriage twice over, and Arianne her goodsister by marriage and also her half-sibling's cousin. I actually drew a web with red for blood ties and green for marriage ones before writing this story and let me just say, I can understand how the European royal families got so intermarried, so quickly.

The four here meet regularly to discuss common problems in Westeros. Naturally when such powerful royals meet, they get eavesdropped on by all manner of unscrupulous folks. They mainly get around that by talking about inane topics until the area could be cleared for any potential eavesdroppers (by the long-suffering Ser Whent). There were multiple attempts to check the room for eavesdroppers, by positioning the reflective jar, closing the window, having Ghost scent the air, etc.