Warnings: Language, smut, angst, and just a touch of fluff.
Chapter 1: If you think this has a happy ending...
The gardens in King's Landing were not so lovely as the ones in Highguarden, none so well-kept as Olenna Tyrell's, but they were by far the most pleasant of settings in King's Landing. At least, they were so in Olenna Tyrell's opinion, and she did not have a very high opinion of King's Landing.
And Margaery seemed to agree with her on that, if the girl's insistence that they meet here was any indication.
Olenna picked at her cheese, gazing shrewdly at her granddaughter and gauging her reaction. Much had changed in the past days, and she knew that Margaery was not holding up so well as she allowed others to believe.
The girl picked at her food, not meeting her grandmother's eyes and barely responding when the servants asked if there was anything more they needed.
Olenna knew now that her cupbearer was under the employ of Varys, and so she sent them all away before broaching the topic for which she had summoned her granddaughter to begin with.
"It must be disappointing," Olenna muttered after a few further minutes in silence, and Margaery glanced up sharply. "To think that, two days ago, you were to be the Queen of Westeros."
Margaery shrugged, an action not altogether befitting of a royal lady, but then, Margaery had always known she did not need to keep up appearances in front of her grandmama. In fact, the woman despised such things. "I still can't believe it. The way he died...It was horrible."
Olenna took a sip of wine, wondering at the genuine emotion in her granddaughter's voice. She herself had not found the boy's death nearly painful enough, considering the little beast that he had been while he lived. In fact, she considered it a mercy, and she would know.
Poison was an art that she knew almost as well as the young Prince of Dorne, who was said to be a master at the subject. Perhaps one day he wouldn't mind discussing it with her.
"Have you seen your betrothed yet?" The Queen of Thorns asked, changing the subject abruptly.
And her granddaughter stiffened, wouldn't meet her eyes as she dipped a piece of bread in the sauces Olenna had ordered specifically because she knew they were Margaery's favorite.
"No. Have we even agreed to the match? Father tells me nothing." She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh with these words, and her grandmother felt a spark of pity.
Olenna pursed her lips in disapproval. "Oh, House Tyrell is very eager to keep roots in King's Landing, though you may rest assured that I argued against this match. It would have been more beneficial to push our luck with Tommen and make you Queen, but the moment the Lannisters took that off the table, your father was flailing for something, and now you are stuck in this horrid situation, my dear."
"Tommen is very young," Margaery tried, though her words sounded weak even to her own ears.
It was the same excuse that Tywin Lannister had given, when he had gone to Mace Tyrell with his new proposition.
Mace Tyrell, who claimed, not so very long ago, that he would not leave King's Landing until his daughter was its Queen. It was the second major decision that Olenna disagreed with her son upon. He had caved on that issue in several hours' time, and now Margaery was to be the Queen of Nothing.
Her brother Loras would have a better position than her, as the husband to Cersei Lannister, Queen Regent.
Granted that the blasted woman did not stab him in his sleep, or suffocate him with her pillow with the first week of said marriage, whenever it did take place.
"This has nothing to do with his age, my child, and make no mistake," Olenna chided. "If it were, your father would argue that your betrothed is too old. And I am sure the thought of a claw in Tommen's back that was not his own had Tywin Lannister determined to find another solution the moment Joffrey started choking."
"Grandmother!" Margaery near-yelled, though Olenna reflected that her daughter should not have been at all surprised by her grandmother's audacity, not so late in the game.
"At any rate, you came to King's Landing to marry the King and now find yourself saddled with a crippled Kingslayer, rumored to have spawned the very boy you were to have married." Olenna took a sip of her wine, finding it bitter; but then, everything in King's Landing was.
She would be glad to return to Highgarden soon, though she would regret leaving Margaery here.
"You shouldn't pay attention to such vile rumors, Grandmother," Margaery muttered softly, glancing down at her plate with a far-aaway expression. "They do not always make a man."
Ah, yes, how thoughtless of her. The rumors surrounding Renly Baratheon had not been true; well, all but one. And Loras had loved him, if what he confided in Olenna was any indication.
All the rumors regarding Joffrey were true, and if he was truly a Lannister, than Olenna could only assume that the ones regarding Ser Jaime Lannister were true, as well.
Not that it mattered. The Lannisters were so wicked that she doubted these dark rumors could make them appear any more so in the eyes of the smallfolk.
Olenna shook her head. "If they were just rumors, I wouldn't." A sigh. "I wish I could do something to rectify the situation my dear, but your pigheaded father is insisting that the marriage go through. Well, I suppose it could be worse."
Margaery looked up hopefully. "How so?" And she looked so hopeful in that moment that Olenna almost regretted her jape. Almost.
"You could be marrying his brother the Imp, like the last poor girl the Lannisters wished to dispose of without any unnecessary bloodshed. Fortunately, that isn't a possibility now," she tried to sound amused by the prospect, but even so, could not bring herself to tease further with the fate of the Imp hanging over her head.
"Grandmother!" Margaery admonished, scandalized, but she couldn't hide the slight curve of her lip at the words.
Olenna laughed, a loud, deep-throated sound, before her expression turned once again sympathetic.
"Third husband, and all with some defect or another. I wasn't originally meant to marry your grandfather Luthor, you know. He was engaged to my sister, your great-aunt Viola. I was to be given to some Targaryen or other. Marrying a Targaryen was all the rage back then."
Margaery gave a small smile at that.
"But the moment I saw my intended, with his twitchy little ferret's face and ludicrous silver hair, I knew he wouldn't do. So the evening before Luthor was to propose to my sister, I got lost on my way back from my embroidery lesson and happened upon his chamber. How absentminded of me."
Margaery snorted.
"The following morning, Luthor never made it down the stairs to propose to my sister 'cause the boy couldn't bloody walk. And once he could, the only thing he wanted was what I'd given him the night before."
She paused, gave Margaery a meaningful look. "I was good. I was very, very good. You are even better. But your husband is not, if the rumors are true, a blushing virgin easily controlled, nor is he interested in your brother. You must sink your claws into him quickly and surely, for he's been a Lannister far longer than Joffrey. And I doubt that the Queen Regent will be pleased when she returns from her mourning to discover her brother married to the woman who was to marry her son. Of course, she is rather distracted at the moment, mourning her dear departed boy. And accusing her other brother of his murder, which he didn't commit."
"Well, he could have," Margaery pointed out.
"He could have done," Olenna agreed lightly, "but he didn't."
Margaery quirked an eyebrow, a sudden doubt creeping into her eyes. "You don't know, Grandmother."
It was almost a question.
Olenna paused, glanced around as if, for the first time in many years, she was worried that her words might be overheard. Fortunately, the servants were hanging back, trying to stay away from Lady Tyrell and her sudden temper.
"But I do know." She gave Margaery a meaningful look. "You didn't think I'd let you marry that beast, did you?"
Margaery's jaw fell open. "Wh-What? I don't understand."
The servant reappeared then, holding a jug of wine and looking rather discomfited. Of course; Olenna had yelled at him earlier.
"Shh, my dear. Don't you worry yourself about all that. You are to be married in two days' time to the Lord Commander of King's Landing, and Lord of Casterly Rock. If I were you, I would find out just what that entails. Talk to the serving girls and the other Kingsguard if you have to. I'm sure someone knows something rich about him, besides his two most famous titles of sisterfucker and Kingslayer."
Margaery groaned. "This is all happening so quickly. If I were truly the loving betrothed of Joffrey, wouldn't it look suspicious to marry me off so soon?" She glanced up hopefully.
Olenna raised a brow. "You must set aside your greivances and do what is best for Westeros," she said, feigning sympathy. "Best for your father's ego, more like."
Margaery sighed. "I can only hope that this Lannister is more tolerable than the last," she said, lifting her chin.
Olenna shrugged. "One thing is much clearer now than before," she smirked. "You and Loras are going to be brother and sister twice over now."
The girl groaned, shoulders slumping.