A/N: I don't know why I decided to forego sleep to write fanfiction yesterday. A back story for Loras and Margaery. This follows the Game of Thrones universe and not the books, so they don't have any other siblings here.
Hopefully, you'd enjoy reading.
The Gift
Loras was five when he first made a promise to protect Margaery.
They had a quarrel and he was so angry at her for taking his toy that he kicked his sister so hard that she fell off the carriage and almost got crushed by the wheel. There was so much commotion then, his mother and the handmaiden in the carriage with them had screamed so loud he thought he would go deaf.
The horses were quickly stopped and his mother was crying as she quickly got out of to tend to the younger child. The four-year-old girl was in shock then, staring at the wheel that was way too close to her face. Lady Alerie stumbled towards her and was crying as she tried in vain to pull the child's blue dress from underneath one of the rear wheels.
A couple of soldiers was quickly at their side and helped Alerie free the young Lady by cutting the child's dress loose. Margaery was quick to hug the older woman and after the shock had worn off, bawled into her mother's neck.
Loras was watching while perched at the entrance of their carriage. He could not believe what he just did. He did not mean for this to happen.
When his grandmother's carriage opened and the Queen of Thorns came out with a frown, he knew he was in very big trouble. When the matriarch came over and asked what had happened, no one dared answer. There was silence apart from Margaery's sobs.
The old lady looked at one of the soldiers as it was apparent that none of the ladies would talk. "The young Lady's dress got caught under the wheel, my Lady."
How can that happen? How can everyone here be so useless? What if my granddaughter died? Alerie, how can you call yourself a mother and let this happen? The oldest Tyrell was furious and she let everyone within earshot know about it.
"It was me," Loras' voice was so small. He jumped off the carriage and quickly made his way to his mother and held on to her skirt, clearly terrified of his grandmother. He was very hesitant to continue. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I-I kicked her out. I – I didn't mean to! She-took-my-toy-and-pulled-my-hair! I didn't-mean-to-kick-her-so-hard!" he said the last sentences so fast it was a wonder his old grandmother understood him at all.
Lady Olenna looked at the kids' mother with a disapproving and questioning gaze.
"He didn't mean it," Alerie defended.
Lady Olenna rolled her eyes and muttered something about her having to do all the disciplining in this family.
"Give me your knife," she stretched her arm out to one of the soldiers. The soldier was quick to give her what she asked for. She then gave the knife to Loras. The young boy looked unsure but took the knife he was given.
"Put Margaery down," she ordered Alerie who acquiesced and placed the young lady down. "And Margaery, stop crying!"
Margaery tried her best to stop crying, she was scared of Olenna too.
"Now kill her!" Lady Olenna ordered the young boy.
His eyes widened at what his grandmother just said. Alerie was quick to beg the Queen of thorns to stop the order and the older woman only needed to raise a hand and roll her eyes.
"You heard me, I told you to kill her. You only need to stab her a few times and she will die. You'd need to clean her blood off your shoes afterwards but she'll be gone."
Loras looked at Margaery. He couldn't understand why his Nana was asking him to kill his sister. Margaery still had tears in her big brown eyes from when she cried earlier. She was so quiet. She was looking straight at him as if waiting for what he will do.
"Isn't that what you want, Loras? If you kill her, nobody will take your toys or pull your hair. You won't have to ever deal with her anymore."
Loras looked at his grandmother then back at Margaery before his little mouth formed into a thin line as he tried in vain not to cry in front of the women of his House.
Lady Olenna leaned down and took the knife from the young boy. "I didn't think so."
"Loras, listen to me," she took him by the shoulders and turned him to face her. "You will be the Lord of Highgarden. You have a very rich and bright future ahead of you. Vassals from across the Reach will look up to you. They will be faithful to you but in return they will want protection from their Lord. But how can you be a Lord if you could not even protect your own family?"
"She's your sister, the lady of Highgarden. She is a gift. The gods do not want you to ever be alone so they gifted you with the best thing you could ever ask for, a sibling. She's yours to protect. She should be the dearest to you and you have to do everything you can to make sure no harm ever comes to her. Do you understand me?" the old Lady spoke slowly and firmly.
"But…but I can't," the boy whispered. Unsure of how to do what he was asked. Surely, his Nana didn't think he could protect her when even he was scared of the ghosts and the bad strangers their Septa often told them about.
"What do you mean you can't? You're a young Lord and you are a Tyrell. Do not tell me that you can't," she gave him a firm shake. "Family is to be loved and protected. No harm should ever come Margaery's way. Not from you, not from anyone else. We are old and will not have long in this world. You're the only one who can really truly protect your sister. Can I count on you, Loras? Can I?"
"Yes."
The young Tyrell children were inseparable. From morning lessons to afternoon playtime until it's time to sleep, they would spend the whole day together. They would do everything together if they could. They also both looked so much alike physically that people who did not know they were born a year apart often assumed they were twins.
After their morning reading and mathematics lessons the little kids would run around the castle playing all sorts of games. They would take walks through the famous castle gardens and run after any rabbits or squirrels they'd see. They'd look for spiders, keep them in little boxes and make them fight on twigs. They would make paper boats that they'd take them to the pond where they will try to put little frogs inside and race them. They'd take wooden sticks and play sword fights all over the house which usually ended up with either of them getting hurt, which would then turn into real squabbles.
Loras would talk his sister into doing all sorts of dangerous things like hunting for snakes (thankfully no one was bitten), climbing trees (she fell one time and injured her ankle) and escaping the guards to slip away into the city (they got lost and were hungry for hours.) They would both get punished for antics he usually started but Margaery never complained and would still blindly follow him in doing one foolish idea after another.
The first time that Loras and Margaery had to take separate lessons, she cried the entire time they were apart. He was sent to the training grounds for archery lessons and she was sent to a room with the older ladies so she would learn how to knit. She bawled so loud and cried the entire time they all thought she would pass out.
Loras stole lemon cakes for her from the kitchen that day, he knew they were her favorite and the cakes would surely make her feel better.
Margaery still had tears on her cheeks as she took a bite of one of the cakes he gave her. She was sitting on her bed, cake crumbs falling on the sheets. Loras wiped her cheek with the back of his hand. "I've got something else for you," he said.
She sat straighter with curiosity as Loras reached into his pocket.
He handed her a tiny bird. Her eyes went wide with delight and her lips spread into a big smile. He was very glad she liked it.
"It fell from its nest. Marcus said we should kill it fast. He said it will die eventually as it can't fly anymore, but I thought you might like to take care of it. Who knows, maybe it will live..." he shrugged.
"It will! I'll take good care of it," she held the bird with both hands and carefully leaned forward to give her brother a kiss. "Thank you!"
"Well, it's about time you stopped crying," he said as he admired the smile on her face.
Loras would come back to the castle keep everyday exhausted and angry from training. Somehow he couldn't keep his back straight enough or his swing graceful enough for his master's liking. His limbs were too thin, his hair was too nice and his face was too pretty, his master would say, ridiculing him. The other boys at practice would try to hide their snickers and he knew they were only trying to hide it because they were afraid of his grandmother.
He would walk to his sister's room to find her knitting or painting, and she would put down and stop whatever she was doing and get on the bed where Loras would be laying down, still wearing his dirt-stricken training gear and boots. Their mother would be mad at him for dirtying the bed but in moments like those, he didn't really care.
"How was training?" she would always ask as she moved closer to him. "Can I come watch tomorrow?"
"Terrible," he said that day. Bad, so tiring, the worst, he'd say on other days. He knew she didn't really care how his training went. His eight-year old sister only really wanted to know if she can come and watch. "Master wants me to cut my hair. And NO, you cannot watch tomorrow."
She ran her little hand through his hair like she did everyday. "There is nothing wrong with your hair. I like your hair as it is. Don't cut it, I'll never forgive you if you did."
"Maybe I should. At least one thing he'd stop insulting me about," he sighed. "Apparently I'm a no-good little Lord with girly hair."
"He's just jealous because he has no hair!" she quips.
He sighed and tried to massage the tired muscles in his arms. "I wish I could just stop being so bad at this. Maybe I'm not meant to be a knight."
She moved closer to him and put her gangly arms around him, not caring that he was sweaty and smelly. "Whatever he says doesn't matter, you'll be the best swordsman Highgarden has ever known." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "I know it."
"How do you know?"
"I just know it," she'd always say when asked that question. "And I'll be sure to tell your Master that when I see him."
"Oh dear gods," he laughed. "Please don't." He knew if his sister threatened to do such a thing, she'd do it. The last thing he wanted was to be teased about it.
"Why not?"
"Because it might not be true!"
"But it is!"
Sometimes he could not understand why his sister thinks he could do the things she says he could. He sat up and started to unlace his boots. She helped him out as the sooner it's done, the sooner they could take their nap together.
"The old Maester said that Ser Jeorge Gardener was able to kill armored soldiers in the battlefield with just the hilt of his sword. How can I be better than that when I could not even land a proper blow on a page boy?"
"I very much doubt that that legend is true," said Margaery who had now moved on to help her brother remove his sparring gear. "Don't you think that maybe the maesters are really just making up these things?"
Loras shrugged. "I don't know, just-just don't tell Master anything, ok? Don't even talk to him!"
Margaery looked offended.
"Please…" Loras added and that seemed to have removed the pout on her face.
"Okay, but you have to let me watch!"
"Not tomorrow!"
"It's never tomorrow…we'd be as old as Nana and I think I'd still never see you fight," she complained.
"Soon. But not tomorrow. I'll tell you when. You have to promise me you won't come unannounced," he looked at her seriously. "The wait will be worth it, I promise you."
She rolled her eyes as she got on the bed and snuggled under the blankets. "I've already promised, haven't I?"
The first time he allowed her to watch him in sparring practice, he'd been very nervous. He had to do well and not look like a fool in front of her. He thanked his lucky stars he picked a good day for when he had managed to take his sparring partner down and aimed his wooden sword at his opponent's neck, he could hear his sister cheering merrily for him from where she and their mother were watching. His sides were painful and his arms hurt from all the swinging but it was worth it.
Later that day, the two young high-born celebrated Loras' victory by skipping their afternoon nap, eating lemon cakes to their hearts' desire and escaping the castle guards to roam the markets unsupervised.
The kids were eventually caught and had to kneel on beads for an hour as punishment for their actions, but they were too happy that they didn't mind it at all.
With a frown on his face, he watched his sister pacing in her room with one of her handmaidens. They were packing her things for a trip. Their grandmother thought it was a good idea to take the twelve-year-old young Lady with her on her trip all over Westeros.
He'd bargained, argued and even cried to his mother, father and eventually to his grandmother to let him come with them to no avail. The Queen of Thorns had decided that Loras' swordsmanship and archery training were not to be interrupted and so he will have stay in Highgarden. She needed a great Tyrell knight and as it couldn't be her son, it would have to be her grandson. The old Lady Olenna warned him that he better be practicing and doing well in training when she returns.
"It will only be for six moons, Loras. You'd hardly miss me," she said when she saw him sulking in a corner.
"Six moons is such an awfully long time," he said. "I can't believe you're not even sad about leaving me!"
"Of course, I'm sad," she said as she placed more dresses inside her luggage. "I'm sure I wouldn't know what to do after just a day without you."
"Then don't go!" he shouted.
"It's Nana's wish. We can't have her travelling alone, could we?" In truth, she was excited to see the world outside Highgarden and outside the Reach. She had been very delighted with the prospect of travel but she couldn't let him know. Loras was very upset that he wasn't coming and he'd been very vocal to her about it for the past several days. There were days when she thought that maybe she just shouldn't go and should just stay, but the inquisitive side of her knew she would regret it if she didn't. She was after all, still a child filled with wanderlust and awe for the prospect of new experiences.
"Alone?" he asked. "She's gonna bring soldiers and handmaidens and even some of our second cousins. She's not alone!"
Margaery narrowed her eyes. "You know what I mean," she said. "And besides, a Lady has to learn the ways of the world and have to meet other highborns. How can I be a proper Lady if I'll only ever be here in Highgarden?"
"And a Lord need not know these things?" he was whining now. "Tell Nana to bring me as well. You're the favourite, she'd do it if you ask her!"
Margaery asked her handmaiden to leave then faced her brother.
"You are totally deaf and blind if you think I'm the favourite," she said, kneeling in front of him. "You're Lord Loras Tyrell, you'll inherit the entire Highgarden and become Lord Paramount of the Reach. You're the future of our House. Grandmother wants you to be the best and strongest Lord these lands have ever seen. You're already doing so well, you have to continue with your training."
"But I don't want to be the best. I can be a good soldier just fine, travelling with you. We can bring my master with us and I can train wherever we are!"
The girl shook her head. "Grandmother says you have to stay. Who knows, in a year, maybe you'd be the one doing all the travelling as you'd be joining Tourneys."
"They'll leave you at Dorne!" He revealed, taking her hand and leaning forward. "It won't be just six moons. They'll leave you there for another twelve, or maybe longer! It's true, I heard Grandmother and Father talking. They'll send you as some sort of favor, as some sort of pact from the Tyrells."
She couldn't fake her shock fast enough.
"You knew!" he accused her as he let go of her hands. He couldn't believe it. How could she have agreed to this?
She quickly reached up and hugged him then.
"How can you lie to my face?! How can you leave knowing these?!" he almost screamed.
"You won't notice I'm gone. I promise I'll send you letters everyday. You won't miss me too much, you won't."
"You're right, I won't!" he said standing up and pushing her hard enough that Margaery fell to the ground.
"I hate you, Margaery Tyrell! I wish you'd never come back!"
There was hurt evident on her face, "you don't mean that."
"I do! I abhor you. Stay in Dorne forever. Don't you ever dare come back!" he said, storming out and closing the door loudly behind him.
She took the nearest thing she could get her hand on, which turned out to be a candle, and hurled it at the door as she screamed in anger and frustration.
Loras did not see his sister and grandmother off that day and refused to eat dinner. He cried himself to sleep that night and for several more nights after that. Both the Tyrell kids, almost seemingly connected at the hip, had never been away from each other for more than a day their entire lives since the younger child was born. They did almost everything together. Loras did not know what to do with himself and he was so heartbroken that his sister had left him that not even a moon had passed, he was already so sickly and thin that he couldn't even attend his lessons and his trainings.
His father feared for his only son that he had called the Maester to check on Loras.
"He just needs a playmate," the Maester said. "He's just heartbroken as his world revolved around the young Lady Margaery. Give him other activities and he'd be fine."
His father was not the smartest Tyrell who ever lived and instead of sending him a proper playmate or friend, his father sent him Anita instead.
Anita was a lady of twenty, with big shapely breasts and a slightly crooked set of teeth.
Loras was only thirteen then. He was so alarmed when Anita took her clothes off and started undoing his breeches.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he held on to his clothes and jumped out of his bed.
"What your father ordered, milord," she said with no trace of shame on her face as she stood in front of the young boy with no clothes on.
"What?!"
"I assure you, milord, you'll be very satisfied. I'll give you utmost pleasure," she said stalking towards his direction seductively.
Loras took a step back.
Anita did not seem to understand his reaction. "I was told you were lonely and needed company."
"I am, but…" he sighed. "Leave! Now!" He pointed at the direction of the door.
"But your father said—"
"I don't care what my father said," his voice was louder now. "I want you to leave. Now. Please."
There was confusion on her face when she gathered her clothes and started putting them back on.
He had managed to tie his trousers up when she spoke again.
"Aren't you worried?" she asked. "About what they'll say?"
He looked at her with a puzzled look. His face turned a dark shade of red when she spoke again.
"A woman was brought into Lord Loras' bedchamber and she left very quickly and untouched. What would they say about you? The guards saw me come in."
"But—but I'm not even fourteen yet."
"You're old enough to get married, Father a child," she argued. "Milord!" she added upon seeing the murderous look on his face.
She stopped at the door. "Shall I leave, Milord?"
He pinched the spot between his eyes and shook his head. "No, stay."
Loras, still ever the gentleman even in this situation, slept on the floor and had given the bed to the woman.
He had been so furious at his father the next day and had asked him to never send him anyone ever again. They had agreed he'd stop skipping meals, do his best to recuperate and regularly attend his lessons and trainings. In exchange, his father will stay out of his affairs.
Anita, the whore, had left with double the money she was promised and had told anyone who cared to hear how good the young Lord was in bed. She had made up so many things about that night that had been passed on from one mouth to another. Loras would find it fascinating that years later, he'd still be asked by people (in King's Landing, no less) whether some of these things were true.
Loras was aware of how good-looking he was. It was very hard not to. Aside from the constant jibes from the master of arms about how 'pretty' he was, the young ladies all but fawned over him. He'd meet Ladies of other houses and they'll always compliment him for his looks. "How lovely this young boy looks, Lady Olenna. Oh, how many women will cry for this one," they would tell his grandmother. "You'd have so many girls at your picking, when the time comes. You won't be left wanting for a willing bride!" the old high-born ladies would tell him as they pinched and kissed at his cheek or as they examined his face as their cold fingers grasped his chin.
Little by little, he had learned how to take these compliments graciously. He had learned to smile and return the compliment or in some cases, lie and make up words of flattery. He had filled the time he would usually have spent playing, studying or hanging out with Margaery with trainings in axe-handling and jousting. He had become so good that he'd win in various tournaments across the Reach and word would go out across the kingdom about this handsome and brave young jouster from Highgarden.
"Have you been to the Stormlands, my Lord?" Mary Gower, a young Lady from one of the noble houses of the Stormlands asked. He was giving her a tour of the capital as instructed by his grandmother. Mary came to visit with her father and had been at Highgarden for a week. The heads of houses were talking business that day so Loras was left to entertain the young woman. She was older than him by two years but Loras was tall and well-built for his age that you'd never notice the age difference.
Loras was a bit embarrassed to admit that he had never been to anywhere outside the Reach. "I haven't been, my Lady, but I heard it is quite an astonishing place."
"It is," she said. "You should visit some time and I could be the one to give you a tour."
Loras nodded. "That would be lovely. I'm sure one day I could."
"I met your sister Margaery when she visited," Mary started. She didn't notice that Loras' arm had gone stiff at the mention of his sister's name.
Loras had no idea Margaery even went to the Stormlands. He never read any of the letters Margaery sent. He never threw them away either.
"She's such a lovely young lady," Mary continued. "I loved her dresses. The fabrics were always so beautiful and the colors always complimented her skin. She's got good taste in clothing. Looking at you, I suppose that is a Tyrell trait. The beautiful skin and good hair, too." The young lady blushed.
"You flatter me, my Lady," he said as he looked at her. "But I'm afraid our fashion taste is no match to yours. Surely you know your colors as your pretty dresses always compliment the beautiful green of your eyes." He was lying. He had not even noticed the color of her eyes until he looked at her right before he said it. Mary was not an eyesore to look at, but she was not beautiful either.
"Your sister never told me you'd be this charming," she smiled. "But she did tell me I'll like you when I meet you."
"Did she?" he whispered more to himself. "My sister talked to you about me?" he asked as he led her to the direction of a small alleyway, a shortcut to the perfume shops.
"Oh yes, she did. She said a lot of things about you," she giggled.
"I sure do hope she said good things and not anything that would paint me in unfavourable light."
"She said that you are a very good swordsman," Mary said tightening her hold onto the young Lord, feeling his strong muscles. "I suppose she's not lying. Everything she said about you had been true so far."
"Like what?"
Mary stopped walking and faced the young man. "That you have the most beautiful curls."
The way she was looking at him made him feel uneasy and he was not sure what to do.
"May I?" she asked. "She said your hair felt like silk and she loved running her fingers through it. If I may be allowed to be so forward…"
He wasn't sure what came to him and why he did it but he regretted it right after. He took the young Lady's hand and placed it on the side of his head and she took her time running her fingers through it, all the while her eyes never leaving his face.
They were both blushing afterwards. And he had never before hated his hair so much. That same night he came to supper with their guests with his hair cut so short none of his curls showed.
Margaery came back twenty-seven long moons after she first left. The city was abuzz with talks about their young Lady coming back. It seemed like everyone was excited. His mother had the chambermaids cleaning the entire house and making sure her room was tidy. The house cooks had gone to market early to have enough time to prepare the laborious meals.
It seemed that he was the only one who was not thrilled about Margaery's return. He was not sure why he was still so mad at her. Their fight had been so petty that he couldn't understand why he felt that he had to get away and avoid seeing her at all cost. He went hunting the day she was meant to arrive and made sure he came home so late in the night that everyone would have already been sleeping.
It took four entire days of Margaery being home before she and Loras saw each other. Loras had always been busy or had early training, or not hungry or too sick to join the family at the table. All reasons he could think of just to not see and share a meal with Margaery. He had even quickly ran back to his room one time he was walking along the corridors and thought he heard her voice.
The old Lady Olenna had had enough of two of his grandchildren being on a fight that she had strict orders that Loras Tyrell would join them for dinner otherwise she'd make him wish he'd never crossed her. The old woman never joked and so Loras found himself at the dinner table sitting across his sister that night.
It was true what they murmured in the streets and what the men at the training grounds had been talking about when they thought Loras couldn't hear. The young Lady Tyrell, already known for her glowing skin and thick brown hair before she left, had turned into such a woman of beauty. Her long brown hair, which she used to just comb and leave as it was, was now carefully pinned back with soft curls framing her face. He wondered how many old hags had pinched and kissed at her cheeks as well and had told her she won't be left wanting for a willing groom.
He was trying not let her catch him looking as he knew that as soon as she found out that she got his attention, she'd talk to him. He just wasn't ready for that yet. He tried to look anywhere but her face.
He knew now why their guest and family friend Andrew Caswell had suddenly asked him yesterday if he thought Lady Olenna will allow it if Andrew asked for his sister's hand. They were in the training grounds then and Loras had kicked the other man's feet from under him and said with a laugh, "no way in hell. You can't even defeat me in combat. How can you think you'd ever have a chance with her?" He had thought Andrew was joking and was just trying to rile him up. Now he wasn't so sure and he suddenly felt uneasy that their guest was sitting beside him at the dinner table with a good view of his sister.
Some things never changed it seemed and Margaery was still as talkative as ever. She was regaling them with stories from her stay in Dorne and the other places she visited with her grandmother. He was trying his best to sound and look uninterested. The Matriarch's orders were for him to show up at dinner, not for him to talk or act like he wanted to be there.
Their guest was very interested though. Andrew made a lot of comments and made sure to show with his gestures that he was intently listening and enjoying the conversation. Margaery, in turn, seemed to be enjoying it and would occasionally smile and let her eyes linger on the golden-haired Caswell. If the old Lady Olenna noticed that the young man was flirting with her granddaughter, she didn't show.
Loras wanted to roll his eyes. He would have done so if he wasn't too scared that his grandmother might catch him. He supposed that Andrew wasn't bad-looking so he wouldn't have to worry about having monstrous-looking nephews and nieces. Margaery was too beautiful, too kind and too rich for him though. Not to mention she was too young to have lecherous eyes of noble men on a look-out for prospective wives to be looking at her.
And why were his grandmother and father letting this? And at the Tyrell dinner table no less?
"Loras, I think it would be a good idea for you to accept if he invites you. I've told him about how good you are and he said he'll invite the fine knights of the Reach in the next tourney," Margaery was smiling when she said this. They have reached the part of the conversation wherein she was telling them about Storm's End and of the handsome Lord Renly Baratheon.
Loras was moving around the food on his plate, still trying to look uninterested. He just nodded in a non-committal way when an idea to stop all this unnecessary flirting going on during dinner came to his head. "I suppose I should. I suppose we should even come together."
Margaery's eyes glittered. It was the longest sentence her brother said to her in two years.
"Tell me, grandmother, isn't the young Lord Renly without wife?" he enquired.
"Yes, he is in fact without a wife. I have always found that curious. Surely such a handsome man like he should already have a wife or a betrothed at his age, but I haven't heard that he has one yet," answered the old Lady.
"Maybe he just hasn't met one he sees fit for his looks and status," Loras looked at Margaery as he takes his cup to his lips, "Or maybe he had met her. She just needs to come back to Storm's End. Perhaps with her brother. For a Tourney. Surely, the fine Lady fancies the rich Lord, doesn't she?"
He would have expected her to blush and be embarrassed like the other young ladies her age but Margaery just smirked. He had forgotten that Margaery was different from all other girls. "Aren't you quite the matchmaker, my dear brother?"
Andrew Caswell was silent after that. Whether or not the older man got offended by the turn of conversation, Loras couldn't care less.
It took time before they were comfortable with each other again. It was filled with awkward silences and even more awkward small talk at first. They didn't know what things the other was interested in anymore. They haven't talked in two years.
They'd take long walks together. At first they were orders from his mother or his grandmother that he should accompany Margaery to the capital or to the market. Margaery might have forgotten her way and might get lost, they'd tell him. Take your sister on a walk to the gardens, the day is so nice, you'd both enjoy a stroll, they'd say.
He wasn't sure at first why it had to be him when she had a handful of handmaidens and soldiers who could keep her company who were very familiar with the place. Surely in just two years Margaery couldn't have possibly completely forgotten how to navigate the streets of Highgarden.
Before long though he'd find himself looking forward to these walks, sometimes even offering to accompany her to places himself. She'd hold onto his arms like she used to when they were younger. She had so many stories and so many ideas she was very eager to share.
Margaery loved the market and would buy all sorts of things. She'd have bags full of food and fabrics before their trip was over. Then she'd make a big show of handing away the pies and bread she bought. It was like escorting a princess whenever they'd pass through the less well-off streets in the city. The men and women would greet them with a smile. Sweet Lady Margaery, they'd called her. The poor kids loved her and they'd always hand her little trinkets like paper cranes or cheap beaded bracelets whenever they see her in the streets.
She'd greet them, wave at them and talk to them about all sorts of stuff as if they were friends. He found it fascinating how much time and attention, she'd shower them. He supposed she enjoyed all the attention she was getting.
It was Loras who didn't like the attention she was getting whenever they were walking through the richer areas of Highgarden and of the Reach. As opposed to the poor fellows who knew their place and would usually look at her with admiration, the men of the richer families looked at her with poorly-hidden want. That kind of attention on her, he wasn't comfortable with.
Before she left, his sister had already hated high collars and sleeves that covered until her wrists. Coming back from Dorne though, she had been even more adventurous with the clothes she wore.
"Aren't you cold in your clothes?" he once asked.
"No. It's quite hot, actually. Don't you think so? If it gets cold I have my shawl."
"It wouldn't be so bad if you covered more of your body, you know? I'm so tired of these men looking at you like beasts."
She smirked then, "let them look. That's all they could do."
"Aren't you at least a little bit scared? Most of these filthy animals are double your size," he had told her.
"Why should I be scared when I have the best warrior in the entire land of the Reach beside me?" She held on to him then and leaned on his shoulder. "And, don't you think they'd be too scared of Nana to do anything?"
"I may not always be here to protect you, you know?"
"Sure you are," she said, tightening her grip on his arm. "And besides, you're the one who would need protecting. I am too small and too weak to protect you from the fiercer animals here. You gotta be careful where you look and smile, my brother. You wouldn't want to be wed to someone unsuitable and the catty ladies of Highgarden have lots up their sleeves."
It was indeed Loras that the other half of the population of these areas wanted. There were usually a handful of young ladies who would blush when he smiled or would for some reason or another just so happened to be chatting on the streets or having breakfast in their courtyard with their finest dresses on whenever he happened to be passing by.
"Do you happen to fancy anyone?" she asked. "I heard the granddaughter of Lord Oakheart is a beauty. You must have seen her in some of the tournaments."
How could he tell her that in the past year, he'd come to hate these girls and there could really be no other girl he fancies?
His parents had asked him to socialize and wanted him to accompany young lady visitors and to dance with highborn Ladies during celebrations and balls. As such is the way of a gentleman, they'd say, but he knew what they really wanted. His mother had been on a lookout for prospective wives for him the moment he turned fifteen.
Socializing with these women had quickly become a task he hated though. He discovered that he easily grew bored of talking to these ladies. Such was the trade-off of having lived with beautiful and intelligent women at home. You tend to look for their qualities in other women too and often you're left wanting.
He'd be planning what he will practice in the melee tomorrow or what he'd want to hunt for as he pretended to listen to them. At first he thought they were just really dull and uninteresting. Eventually though he realized that it was not that they were awfully lacking, it was just that he always found himself comparing them to Margaery.
Is Amanda as beautiful as Margaery? Is Tanya as kind? Is Olivia's smile as bright? Will Elena be as thoughtful? The way Greta's eyes twinkle reminded him of his sister's, however, Greta is not as smart…
No one was like his Margaery and he found the whole idea of socializing with these noble ladies pointless. He would never want to marry beneath him and how can he find someone suitable when his sister had already unknowingly set the bar so high for him?
He was still a Tyrell though, and he knew how to play these games. He'd be very charming and courteous and gentlemanly. The girls would swoon and all but turn into puddles when he was done showering them with compliments. They'd go home with dreams of marrying him and with only good words about the young Lord and the Tyrell house.
"I've met her," he said, referring to the granddaughter of Lord Oakheart that Margaery had asked about. "Doesn't have a good head on her shoulders though."
"Oh, Loras. What a terrible ser you are!" she smirked as she let him lead the way back home.
"Why are you crying?" Loras asked, holding her hand under the sheets.
The two siblings had often been sharing a bed again like they did when they were younger. They would fall asleep talking to each other and would wake up tangled in each other's arms.
"I'm not crying," she said. It was true. She was very close to crying but her tears are yet to fall. She was trying her best not to let it. So this was how it felt like to be left by someone you love. Her chest felt so painful that she felt so sorry that she had ever let Loras feel this way before.
"Why are you doing whatever you're doing then?" he was looking at the ceiling as was she.
"I...I don't want you to leave."
It was finalized, Loras was to be a squire for Renly Baratheon and he was leaving for Storm's End in a couple of days. Somehow Loras' little matchmaking talk from many moons back had put an idea in Lady Olenna's head and she had been working to get the Tyrell House closer to and in the good graces of the Baratheons. Loras felt he was too old to be a squire and was not sold into the idea easily. Lady Olenna can be very persuasive though.
"Haven't you heard what Grandmother said? She'd make arrangements so you can follow in a year," the young man said as means to comfort her. They survived two years away from each other, they could do one year more.
"So she can marry me off like a sack of wheat for trade!"
He squeezed her. What can he say to that? It was the curse of being a highborn. Often you do not get to choose who you marry.
When Lady Olenna wanted something, she often found a way to get it. Now she wanted for Loras to pave the path for her to marry off Margaery to Lord Renly Baratheon. And so it will happen as his Grandmother wished.
"Well I suppose he's a prince, the brother of the king," she said sighing. "Nana could have been aiming for much worse. I guess I should just be thankful that she's planning to marry me off to the handsome Prince Renly rather than some old ugly geezer from another house."
"A prince is not even good enough for you," Loras commented, casually taking her hand to his lips and kissing it. No one was good enough for her.
"And who do you want me to marry? The king?" There was a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Why not? Queen Margaery. That sounds a lot better doesn't it?"
"But the king is so old!" She laughed at the idea, "And he's married."
"He's got sons, doesn't he?"
"So should I be aiming higher and be shooting for a soon-to-be king?" The sadness was momentarily forgotten.
"You should aim for what you deserve, and you deserve only the best," he said.
She laughed and shook her head. "I can't be a queen."
"You can though. If you wanted to," he said. He honestly believed it. Sometimes it scared him how cunning and seductive his young sister was when she wanted to be. Somehow, she can always charm her way to get what she wants. How many men had been ruined for other ladies only because the Sweet Lady Margaery was bored and wanted to play her games on some young unsuspecting fool?
She turned to her side to face him and placed her head on his shoulder, the fabric of his clothes rubbing on her cheek. "But King's Landing is too scary. It's too far from you…" she said it in almost a whisper.
"I'll be wherever you are," he said rubbing her cheek with his free hand. It was ironic that he was saying this now.
"Is that a promise?"
"It is."
"And when it is time for you to take a wife, what about then?" she asked, although she wasn't overly bothered by it as she knew it would be quite a long time before her brother marries. Shortly after she came back, she had noticed it about him. How he seemed more interested in his sparring partners or in young stable boys than in ladies with ample bosoms.
Although she knew it didn't spell good news for the future of their house, a part of her was glad about this discovery. The selfish part in her welcomed it as she knew it meant she would have him all to herself for a little longer.
"You don't need to worry. Don't you remember what Nana said? How can I be the great Lord Loras Tyrell if I can't protect you?" He turned to his side and held her face so she's looking straight at him. "She was right you know? You are the best gift given to me, mine to protect."
"You do know that you're the same for me, don't you?," her gaze was serious and her voice low.
She ran her fingers through his soft hair, relishing the silky feel through her digits. He closed his eyes. He will certainly miss this.
"Don't you, Loras?"
Loras Tyrell answered her question with a kiss.
END
A/N:
And then Game of Thrones happened. All the murders, conspiracies and deaths.
I remember watching one of their scenes together, the one wherein Margaery was allowed to see Loras in his cell, and thought that it was beautiful how they loved each other so much. And so I turned it into borderline obsessiveness in a fic. =P
Leave a review if you can.