So, now you know who is the rose in this story. I'm sorry for everyone who hoped it would be Sansa, but I hope I already fill some of your hopes with my other fic. I wanted to explore a possible marriage between Tyrion and Margaery in this fic. You must also consider that I follow the show, and we are three years before Season 1. This means Sansa is only ten-years-old at this moment. She is far too young to marry and didn't flower yet. Furthermore, I don't think Ned Stark would accept to marry his daughter to the son of Tywin Lannister, even for all the gold of Casterly Rock.
I assume that Margaery was eighteen at the beginning of Season 1, so she is fifteen at the beginning of this story. Since Tyrion is twenty-two, there is a gap of seven years between them, which a very decent age gap for a medieval society.
MARGAERY I
They left Highgarden around midday for the picnic they had agreed upon while breaking their fast. While the morning was spent in embroidery, music, dance, court, writing and sums lessons, they had the afternoon for themselves and decided to wander out of the castle. It was a beautiful day, without a single cloud, the fresh breeze from the Mander caressing their faces as they went into the countryside. Some of the girls raced on their horses and mares while others remained behind, riding peacefully and slowly, enjoying the beautiful weather and the beauty of the landscape while talking, joking and laughing. Smiles were on everyone's face.
Lady Margaery of House Tyrell didn't race like some of her cousins did. She remained behind with two of her handmaidens and Alla, the shyest one. They had guards following them to ensure their safety, though Margaery doubted anyone would attack them so close to Highgarden. If they were to meet people, it was more likely that it would be to ask her for charity than to attack them. She had begun to get involved in the charity works her mother managed two years ago, and the people had come to appreciate her a lot wherever she went. They were running to her as soon as they learned that Margaery Tyrell and her friends were there.
That was the reason why Margaery had argued for a short trip on the Mander with a pleasure boat, but her cousins had been unanimous about an excursion in the countryside and she had to yield. She would have preferred to take no chance of being bothered today. Instead they rode to a nearby hill, a few miles away from the castle, Margaery hoping they wouldn't be disturbed. Elinor and Megga reached the hill before them since they were racing to arrive first. Margaery dismounted when she arrived close to her cousins at the top of the hill. Her two handmaidens started to unpack the food they brought for the afternoon and to prepare the picnic near the shadow of a tree while Margaery and her three cousins picked flowers, ran and jumped all around.
Margaery watched from the corner of her eyes her two handmaidens preparing everything. The one with black hair was diligent and placed blankets, dishes, cups, food, umbrellas and everything at the right place with perfect accuracy and convenience. Margaery seldom saw such an efficient handmaiden. The other handmaiden, the one with brown hair, hesitated from time to time about how and where to place that thing or that other thing, and moved a few objects on suggestions from the black haired one. Perhaps I should ask for more northern handmaidens. If they are all like her, I will have the most diligent retinue in the Seven Kingdoms.
When the picnic was ready, Margaery, Elinor, Megga and Alla all took place and began to eat peaches, pears, apples, melons, fireplums, bread, salmons, oysters, ham and many other things more delicious than the other. They were served wine by Margaery's handmaidens. After a moment, Margaery invited them both to sit with them and to enjoy the day. If the girls needed to take something else from the things they brought with them, everyone only had to take it by herself. They were between friends here. While the daughter of Lady Ollena's former handmaiden joined them, the one with black hair excused herself and went to the extremity of the hill, looking away in Highgarden's direction.
The girls gossiped, talked, joked, laughed, giggled, sometimes threw food at each other, and then it was time for sweets. They all went to bring some from the bags they brought and Margaery's handmaiden who steer clear of them came to help. Once the sweets were in place, she went back to observe the castle. After some more time discussing with her friends, Margaery couldn't support it anymore. She took a few honey cakes in a plate and went to see her handmaiden who stood alone.
"Mira, you should eat something at least."
"Thank you, my lady," the northern girl answered and she began to eat the first cake. "It's delicious."
Mira returned to her contemplation of Highgarden. It was the most beautiful castle in the world, and it was Margaery's home. It was all white and stood on a hill with gently slopes. Three concentric rings of crenellated curtain walls defended Highgarden, though they hadn't proved useful for centuries. The towers were slender and graceful as maidens, ivy and grapes climbing and covering all of them. From the hill where she stood, Margaery could distinguish the briar maze between the outermost and the middle wall as well as some waterfalls inside the castle. The castle sept could be seen as well from there, but Margaery thought Mira was probably looking at the only weirwood tree they could see from the three that actually composed the godswood. Mira prayed there quite often. She was the first person in decades to use the godswood of Highgarden for religious purpose instead of leisure.
"You should sit with us," said Margaery. "Even Sera is there."
"Thank you, my lady. But I'm afraid someone wouldn't be pleased with my presence."
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"Megga has some grudge against me since yesterday."
Margaery was quite surprised by this. "What happened?"
"Nothing very important, my lady. I was just walking in one the gardens when Megga started to name me almost all varieties of flowers there were here. She told me all specimens of flowers were in the garden. So I told her it was obvious she never visited the North."
"Why?"
"She told me I probably knew nothing of flowers since I came from a place where there were none. So I gave her a lesson about winter roses and ice tulips." A little smile appeared on Mira's face. "She didn't like to be wrong."
Margaery had to laugh about it. "Megga," she said with a half exasperated voice. "You must have told her something else."
"I told her she knew nothing about the North. I didn't say it nastily, my lady."
"No, I'm sure of that. Well, that shouldn't stop you from coming with us. You're my handmaiden, Mira, and I order you to sit with us and to enjoy the afternoon."
"I have no choice then." Mira surrendered and followed Margaery back to the group of girls. Margaery took back her place between Alla and Megga while Mira sat next to Sera, her other handmaiden. Mira mostly talked with the latter. Time passed as they ate pastries. Megga was the one to eat the most of them and quickly started to give her opinion about all of them.
"Honey cakes are too much sugary, too sweet. Strawberry shortcakes are better however, and pear pies are even better. But nothing beats lemon cakes. They are the best ones. We can choose whatever we want. There are sweets for all tastes. I'm sure we don't have that much choice in the North. Isn't it, Mira?"
Mira was eating another honey cake. It was her third, but along with a little lemon cake they were the only sweets she took when Megga had already taken a dozen and had many others in her plate. She was already round at nine and talked loudly. Margaery understood that Mira had been sincere before. Megga was targeting her when talking against honey cakes. The northern girl turned to Megga to answer very quietly.
"No, we don't. We have some sweets, of course, but not many. The North is a rude land. We eat what we can harvest, hunt and fish mostly."
"It seems I know more than you in that, Lady Mira," Megga said with a wicked smile.
"I can't argue with you about it, Lady Megga. I spent my time at other things than knowing all the pastries in the world. And everyone discovers very quickly you know more about pastries than anyone else in Highgarden once they meet you."
Megga had her mouth wide opened. She didn't expect this reply. Margaery had to repress a chuckle. Mira went back to speak with Sera while Margaery resumed a conversation with Elinor.
After the picnic was over, they went hawking for most of what was left of the afternoon. They came back to Highgarden a few hours later and Margaery went to her chambers in order to take a bath before dinner. While she relaxed in the bathtub filled with a fragrance of rare red rose from the Arbor, she talked with her two handmaidens. While Sera was enthusiastic about everything happening in Highgarden she talked about, Mira remained silent for most of the time, mostly fetching Margaery's clothes for the evening. Margaery knew Mira didn't enjoy gossiping very much.
"Sera, you may take your leave for the evening. I won't need you anymore. Mira will keep me company."
Sera seemed taken aback by this. "My lady, I can stay. It doesn't bother me."
"I know, Sera. I just want some time alone with Mira. Please leave us."
Sera left with a sulky look on her face. Margaery would talk to her tomorrow. Mira stood before her, her head bowed. "You wish to speak to me, my lady?"
Margaery smiled. "Yes, Mira. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable." The northern girl complied and brought a chair to sit by Margaery's side, right next to the bathtub. Margaery eyed the girl for a very long time.
Mira Forrester had arrived at Highgarden two months ago. She had black hair, green eyes, a pale skin, a slender frame and a long face, more square than round. She was the eldest daughter of a minor lord of the North sworn to House Glover of Deepwood Motte, but her mother came from an ancient house of the Reach almost entirely wiped out during Robert's Rebellion. Despite this, Mira's mother still had relations in the Reach and had arranged for her daughter to serve as a handmaiden in Highgarden, wishing Mira to learn the ways of the southern courts. Mira had come to Highgarden with four bearded men of the North in her father's service, only with gowns made of wool in her bags, far too hot for the weather of the Reach.
Mira wasn't shy, but she was reserved and didn't talk a lot. Unlike Margaery's other friends, she didn't enjoy gossiping or small talk very much. Margaery's parents and her grandmother had dined with her when she arrived to welcome her, since she was a highborn lady. Margaery had been present at the dinner as well. Although her mother and her father found Mira quite simple and somewhat mannerless, Margaery and her grandmother had found her quite intriguing and intelligent. Lady Olenna had tested the girl of thirteen with her sharp tongue, and Mira always answered to Margaery's grandmother directly, not being rude but saying what she thought while staying calm and quiet like Margaery rarely saw someone capable of doing so when facing the Queen of Thorns. The next morning, Margaery had invited Mira in her chamber to break her fast and had a private discussion with her. Mira talked about her family, about her interests and what she loved, and Margaery realized the girl was quite clever and intelligent, but also honest. Her straightforward ways were strange for a place like Highgarden, but Margaery had found them more interesting and original than anything else. She spent more time with the newly arrived lady this day and saw she was well-educated. Her embroidery works competed and sometimes outmatched Margaery's own works, she rode very well on horse and had more knowledge in her head than any of Margaery's kin. If she had been a man, Margaery thought she could have ended a maester. At the end of this day, Margaery had gone to her parents and asked for Mira to be placed among her personal handmaidens.
After two months, Mira managed to find a very good place at Margaery's side. Of all her handmaidens, the two Margaery loved the most were Mira Forrester and Sera Durwell, but Margaery appreciated Mira more and more every day. It was refreshing to see someone say what she really thought among all the liars in the Reach, but without the sharpness of her grandmother. Mira was always sincere, as much with Margaery than with everyone else, which put her at odds with some people in Highgarden. She was reserved, probably because she felt like a stranger here. Mira would reply to anyone who would imply something about her in a direct way, though the way she replied was also well-mannered, without crude language and without insult, but always turning someone's words against himself. Margaery liked it in the northern girl, but it didn't help her to make friends here. The fact she just arrived didn't help either and she spent more time reading and contemplating the wonders of Highgarden and its surroundings than talking with other people. Her lack of interest for gossiping didn't make things easier to integrate the society of Highgarden. But for Margaery it didn't matter. She appreciated Mira and her honesty.
And now this girl, who was only two years younger than her mistress, sat before her, waiting silently for Margaery to say something. Mira now wore appropriate garments for the Reach, having traded her woolen robes for lighter gown and dresses made of silk. Her clothes were quite simple, but Margaery remembered Mira once told her they were more costly and luxurious than anything else she wore during her whole life. They left her arms uncovered and there were designs of flowers and branches on her jerkin. She also began recently to arrange her hair in a southern way like the other girls here at Highgarden. At thirteen, Mira was already quite beautiful. Margaery wondered if a boy had his eyes set upon her.
"How are you, Mira?" Margaery finally asked after a moment.
"I'm fine, my lady." Margaery knew by now that her handmaiden was used to go straight to the point. She didn't lose time in compliments and only performed the essential courtesies. She probably thought Margaery had something important to tell her and waited for her mistress to tell it.
"Did you enjoy your day?"
"Yes, my lady. It was a beautiful day."
"Yes, it was." Margaery let a moment pass. "You've been here for many weeks now. Do you like Highgarden?"
"Of course, my lady." She said it as if it was an evidence. "I like it very much. It's a beautiful place."
"Despite Megga's comments on sweets and flowers?"
Mira shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Nothing can be perfect." A silence followed. "To be honest, my lady, I like Highgarden very much, but there are things that bother me. Many people seem to find me strange. I know I look out of place."
"Well, I must admit your tendency to be direct is unsettling for many people, including my parents. But my grandmother likes you very much. You're among the few people who can suffer her without losing their composure or looking confused. And you seem in rather good terms with Sera."
"Yes, Sera is very kind. We spend some time together every day. But I miss my home. Ethan playing music. Talia singing. Rodrik and Asher sparring with Ser Royland. Ryon crying while my mother tries to make him sleep. Or Gared tending a horse in the stables. Or Maester Ortengryn, talking about Essos, Oldtown, the Citadel, the Vale…"
Margaery's handmaiden looked lost in her memories. Margaery saw that she missed her family and the place where she grew up. She wondered how she would feel in Mira's place. She didn't know how she would feel the day she would have to leave Highgarden and her family, though she knew that day would come. "I know it must have been difficult to leave the people you love behind you, Mira. But you have friends here. Remember. And your mother wanted you to learn the southern ways. There is no better place for that than Highgarden." Mira returned the smile Margaery gave her. Margaery sighed. "I wish I had a sister, and more brothers. I love my little brother, but sometimes Loras can be exasperating, just like my father. I wish I had another brother. At least I have my cousins, but they can't entirely replace brothers."
"I had no cousin at Ironrath, but Gared was almost like one. My mother always treated him as if he was her own son. There were people who looked down at him because his father was a farmer, but he was no different from us. If he had been the son of a lord, no one would have spoken against him, and yet he would have been the same boy."
Margaery nodded in approval. "The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart. We could have been born peasants. My father could have been a crofter, or a miner, or a craftsman. We were both lucky to grow in a castle, Mira."
"Yes, we are."
Another silence followed and Margaery enjoyed the feeling of the water on her skin. Mira was staring at the floor, obviously lost in her thoughts, or only expecting Margaery to say something else. In the end, Margaery did. "I'll talk with Megga tomorrow. With some hope, she will forget everything. It would be a shame that she remains hostile to you only for flowers and pastries. Though I admit you replied very well to her. My grandmother would have liked to be there. I should invite her the next time."
Both girls laughed, Margaery more than Mira who laughed more lightly. Mira helped Margaery to dry herself and to don her gown for the dinner after she left the tub. She also combed and braided her hair before they left for the dining room. When they reached the doors, Margaery gave her leave to Mira who left after a curtsy to go back to her chambers. Margaery thought she had a good idea what Mira might do. She would certainly read some book Maester Lomys suggested her a few days ago. Mira read more than all of Margaery's cousins put together, though her cousins didn't read much.
The dining room was large with round marble columns along the walls, stems with flowers covering them all while tapestries on all the walls showed fountains, lakes, flowers, fruits and splendid views, some real and some out of imagination. A small round table had been placed for the evening since they would be very few. Margaery's parents were already there, whispering to each other with animosity. Her father's face was hidden to her, but she could see her mother's. Lady Alerie Tyrell looked angry, but as soon as she saw her daughter coming in their direction, she smiled and came to hug her.
"My little girl, have you spent a good day?"
"I have, mother. But I'm not really a little girl. I'm fifteen, remember."
Her mother put a hand on her left cheek. "You'll always be my little girl, Margaery, no matter how old you are."
Margaery found her mother's behaviour quite strange. She was much more affectionate than usually, and Margaery could see her smiles were forced. Her father came to put a kiss on her forehead. He looked nervous, and Margaery noticed her mother glaring angrily at him. Something was going on. The three of them took their places at the table. There were still two empty chairs.
"Where are Loras and grandmother?" Margaery asked.
"Your brother is certainly still training with the master-at-arms if he thinks he can display his prowess before someone. If not, then I have no idea where he could be since there is no other reason why he would be late." Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Mace's mother, entered the room with her sharp tongue like always. "I may be old and slow, but unlike your brother I know how to arrive in time for dinner. I'm glad to see you my dear." Her grandmother kissed her on the cheek.
"Loras surely has good reasons to be late."
"Loras always has a good reason. That doesn't mean he should be late." The Queen of Thorns took place at Margaery's left, on her father's right. "Did you enjoy your excursion this afternoon?"
"Yes, grandmother. Very. One of my handmaidens shut up Megga."
"Really? Let me guess. The northern one? What's her name? Mara? Sara? Emra?"
"Her name is Mira."
"Oh, yes, that's it. No matter. I should ask her to break her fast with me, or to take some meals with me from time to time. That would make them less boring."
Margaery could only smile and laugh at her grandmother's comments. In the meantime, her parents had remained at their place, Lady Olenna barely acknowledging their presence as she gave all her attention to her granddaughter. Margaery knew that Olenna Tyrell had a poor opinion of her son and his wife, even if he was still her son. She had a poor opinion of Loras as well, though Margaery thought Loras didn't deserve this. He was still young at thirteen, and still had time to change. Margaery talked with her grandmother while her mother and her father started again to whisper loudly. Margaery understood a few words they exchanged, like How can you do that? She is your daughter. My daughter. You should refuse. These were her mother's words. Her father, on the other side, spoke differently. I can't just tell no. I'm only considering. Nothing is decided. That could be good for us.
After almost fifteen minutes of waiting, her brother finally came in. Loras was already very handsome and half the girls of the Reach wanted him in their bed, though most of them would probably be disappointed after the first night. Margaery knew very well, just like all her family (though her father tried to ignore it and her mother tried more than once to reason Loras about it), that her brother loved one man and only man, and that his bed was for him and only for him. Margaery welcomed Loras warmly, just like their parents, but her grandmother said what she thought like always.
"You should spend less time fighting with swords to amaze the crowd and more time to arrive in time where you're supposed to be."
"Mother, please, don't be so hard on him," Margaery's father said.
"Why not? You're not hard on him at all. You let him do as he pleases. I don't intend my grandson to turn like an oaf. Should I remind you started to turn an oaf when your father allowed you to do everything you wanted, Mace?"
"Mother!" Lady Alerie almost shouted.
"Hush, Alerie. No need to cry. And don't call me Mother. If I'd given birth to you, I'm sure I'd remember. I'm only to blame for your husband, the lord oaf of Highgarden." Both Margaery and Loras couldn't repress their laughs. Their grandmother turned to them. "You, Margaery, you can laugh. Loras, stop it immediately. Next time, you arrive in time, or else you won't be allowed to enter at all and you'll practice in the courtyard with an empty stomach the following morning. Now bring us this food so we can eat like a family."
The last order was addressed to the servants who quickly brought dinner. The Queen of Thorns was feared and obeyed more than the Fat Flower in Highgarden, and all over the Reach as well. Lady Olenna Tyrell was the true leader of House Tyrell. Margaery hoped to be like her someday, though perhaps less sharp.
Discussions went about that thing and the other, from songs to harvest, from tapestries to politics, from wine to tourneys. When they arrived at the latter subject, her father seized the opportunity to talk to Loras.
"My son, I hope you will participate to the squire's tourney I'm organizing in two months. That would be a good occasion for you to be knighted."
"Nonsense, Mace," his mother interrupted him immediately. "Loras is your son and heir. He doesn't need a tourney to be knighted."
Loras stood in the conversation at this moment. "I will win this tourney. I will show everyone that I am the best jouster in the Reach. No. The best jouster in all the Seven Kingdoms."
"I'm sure you will be," Margaery said, putting a hand on her brother's arm on her right. "You will win this tourney, but don't imagine you already won before you did."
"Who could best me?" Loras asked in a mocking tone. He was really sure to win the tourney. Margaery had to admit he was probably not wrong.
"Someone you would never think about." Lady Olenna stepped into the conversation once more. "Don't be so sure you'll win. And this is only a squire's tourney. That's not as if you would defeat the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. There will be no knights in this tourney, only squires. That's why we call it a squire's tourney. Though this one may prove quite important. We will have an important guest for this occasion."
"An important guest? Who?" There was hope in Loras's voice. Margaery thought she had a good idea who her brother hoped to see at the tourney.
"Well, Lord Renly already told us he would come." Margaery's father fulfilled his son's wishes. Margaery hoped everything wouldn't be too obvious, though many already knew about her brother and Renly.
"Oh, Mace. It doesn't matter that Renly Baratheon comes. It's the other guest that matters. You know that as much as I do. You invited him yourself when you sent the reply this afternoon. Can you tell me why it took you a month to answer?" Lord Mace looked lost at his mother's words. "I know what's going on in this damn castle, Mace. We'll talk about this later. Let us try to enjoy our dinner for the time being."
Margaery found her parent's behaviour very strange for the rest of the evening. They didn't talk much, which was very unusual for her father, and often looked at each other, her father with a pleading expression, her mother with eyes that threw daggers in her husband's direction. She talked with Loras and their grandmother, but kept an eye on her parents. What was going on? They acted even more strangely after her grandmother's words, but why? Who was this important guest if this wasn't Renly Baratheon? Who did he have to send a reply to, and about what matter? Only to invite him at a squire's tourney? Margaery tried to silently question her grandmother with her eyes, but Lady Olenna refused to answer, only glancing at her son and her daughter-in-law every time Margaery tried to get some answers.
When the dinner was over, Margaery was about to leave with her brother when her father stopped her. "Margaery, please stay. Your mother and I have something to tell you."
Margaery sat again while Loras looked questioningly at their parents for a moment, then shrugged and left. Lord Mace Tyrell turned to his mother who remained at her seat, looking at one of the walls.
"Mother, you don't have to stay. You may leave." Lady Olenna's eyes didn't leave the wall. "Mother?"
The Queen of Thorns finally looked at her son. "You were saying?"
"We have something important to tell to our daughter, Alerie and I. Would you leave?"
"Why should I leave? After all, that's not as if I didn't know. Did you listen when I spoke during this boring dinner? You're deaf, just like your father. I'm staying here."
Margaery started to be exasperated. "Can you tell me what's going on? What do you need to tell me?"
Her father hesitated. "Well, you see… It's delicate. I haven't taken a decision yet, but… I think we must consider this. But you don't have to fear anything, Margaery. Nothing is decided. I only…"
"Oh, Mace, are you going to tell her, or do I have to tell her myself," Lord Mace's mother interrupted.
Another moment followed before Margaery's father spoke. He crossed his fingers and smiled under his mustache. "We received a proposal."
Margaery raised an eyebrow. "A proposal. About what?"
Before her father could answer, her grandmother answered. "Oh, shut up, Mace. When you speak you make things ten times slower than they should be. We received a marriage proposition. For you, my dear."
So, that was the secret. Margaery didn't find it worth of so much mystery. "Well, that's nothing new. If I remember, there are already many houses who asked for my hand these past years. Including your own house, grandmother, and yours as well mother."
"Yes," Lady Alerie confirmed. "Only this time, it's different, and your father thinks seriously about accepting the offer."
"But, this is no small offer, my lady," Lord Tyrell complained. "Ser Kevan's proposal is very serious and… We never received such a proposition."
"Ser Kevan? Who is it?" Margaery asked.
"Ser Kevan Lannister," Lady Olenna answered again instead of her son. "He is the brother of Tywin Lannister, the old man who died a month ago when the mast of a ship fell on him."
Margaery was quite surprised. "Ser Kevan Lannister? Well, I didn't expect being proposed a marriage with him. How old is he?" Lord Tywin had to be in his sixties, so how younger could his brother be?
"Hmm…" Her father hesitated again. "Ser Kevan didn't propose a marriage between you and him. He's already married. He proposed a marriage with another member of his family."
"What your oaf of a father has been trying to tell for almost ten minutes now, it's that he received a raven three weeks ago from House Lannister who proposed to unite our two houses by marrying you to their new lord. That is, to arrange a marriage between you and Tyrion Lannister."
Her grandmother was sharp as always. Margaery remained there dumbfounded for a moment. Tyrion Lannister? After a moment while she assimilated the new, she burst in laughter. "Tyrion Lannister? The dwarf? The one they call the Imp?" Her grandmother nodded with a smile at the corners of her lips. Margaery only laughed more. Once she managed to regain a little of her composure, she managed to articulate a few words. "Well, we receive all kinds of wedding proposals for me."
"That's not funny, Margaery. Your father wants to accept," her mother almost exploded.
"It's untrue. I'm only considering all the options," her father replied.
"You already answered them."
"Only to invite them to send someone I could speak with more about the proposal. The tourney will be an excellent occasion for this."
"Are you a fool, Mace? You consider to marry our only daughter to a dwarf? Do you know what people say about him? Haven't you heard the rumors?"
"These are only rumors."
"I can't believe you're doing this!"
Three knockings were heard on the table. For a woman about to reach the seventies, Olenna Tyrell could bang quite strongly. She had risen from her seat. "Can you tell me what I did to have such a son and such a daughter-in-law? Arguing like two little children before my granddaughter. Get out. I'll discuss with her. Anyway I'm better suited for this task than any of you, the oaf and the oaf's wife. Go."
The Lord and the Lady of Highgarden left after a moment. Before the Queen of Thorns, they were nothing. Margaery was glad her grandmother stood up. She didn't like to see her parents bickering, and her grandmother made this end on some humorous note. Lady Olenna Tyrell sat back, a sad smile on her face.
"These two ones! I wonder how our house will survive when I'll be gone." Lady Olenna took a more serious expression. "You surely have a lot of questions to ask me."
"Well, is that true first?"
"It is. The Lannisters sent us a raven proposing an alliance between our houses through marriage. And your father sent them an answer this morning, asking them to send an emissary he could discuss with. He will come for the squire's tourney in two months. For once, your father may not be taking the wrong decision."
Margaery was surprised by her grandmother's thoughts. "So you believe this could be a good idea? That I marry Tyrion Lannister?"
"Perhaps. But we cannot just say no like that. The proposal concerns one of the greatest lords in the Seven Kingdoms. We must at least show we are not rejecting their offer immediately. But the marriage may be interesting for us, and for you."
"I thought we were trying to get me married with the king, or the future king. Isn't it why we refused all the marriage proposals we received up to now?"
"Yes, it is. But in fact we refused them because we thought we could find better options for House Tyrell if we waited. However, there aren't many chances for you to become the queen one day. Robert is already married."
"But he could put Queen Cersei aside. He wouldn't be the first king to do so. Or we could arrange for me to marry Prince Joffrey, Robert's heir. We have Renly working with us."
"Renly can do nothing." Olenna Tyrell dismissed the idea. "Robert Baratheon doesn't listen to any of his brothers. He listens to Jon Arryn, and even then… Robert is not fond of Cersei as far as we know, it's true. He could be tempted to put her aside, but he looks more interested by whores than by marrying someone else. Lyanna Stark seemed to be the only woman he really loved, and she's dead. Renly won't succeed to convince the king to repudiate Cersei. Only Jon Arryn could convince him to do so, and he will never do it. That would be too dangerous, and could start a war, even if Tywin Lannister is dead. As for Joffrey, the king shows no inclination to have a Tyrell married to his eldest son. And the queen neither does. Furthermore, if we were to refuse the offer to marry you to their lord, I doubt the Lannisters would be well disposed to marry you to the queen's son. Our chances are quite low to have you Queen of Westeros one day." Her grandmother had her hand on her mouth, a finger rubbing her temple. "A marriage with the Lord of Casterly Rock wouldn't be that bad for our house. We have no links with the other kingdoms, and the Lannisters are the only ones who can compete with us in terms of power. An alliance with them would allow us to leave our isolation from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. We could even compete the alliance between the Tullys, the Starks, the Arryns and the Baratheons. And this marriage would make you the richest woman in Westeros too."
Margaery could see her grandmother's logic, though she always wanted to be the queen. But if her chances of being queen were so low, then it would be better to become a great lady. However, there were still problems. "Do you think it would be wise, grandmother? I mean, we're talking about Tyrion Lannister. The Imp. A man people say who drinks for sundown to sunup, visit ten brothels per night and is the ugliest man in the Seven Kingdoms."
"I know all that. I'm not stupid. We must consider this as well. That's why we must speak with anyone the Lannisters will send and get the truth out of him. And if we have no sufficient proof that this Imp is a somewhat decent man, or half man, then we will decline the proposal after thinking seriously about it."
Margaery saw that her grandmother didn't take the matter lightly. Perhaps her father did, but not her mother and Lady Olenna. All the same, Margaery was worried. "Grandmother, you realize that if we accept this offer, if I marry the Lord of Casterly Rock, then I will have to give up any hope to become queen."
Lady Olenna Tyrell smiled fondly at her. "My dear, there are crowns without a queen. And there are queens without a crown." Her grandmother left her chair and came to kiss her on the forehead. "Don't trouble yourself too much about that. Let's wait for the tourney to learn more about this Lord Tyrion, then we'll decide. Have a good night, my dear."
Lady Olenna left and Margaery found herself alone in the dining room. She stayed there with her thoughts for a long moment. Margaery had always wanted to become queen. Loras was trying to use his privileged access to Renly Baratheon to bring Robert Baratheon to take an interest in her. So far, there were no results. The Lords of Storm's End never had good relationships with the Lords of Highgarden because of their common frontiers and the disputes that ensued from them. Furthermore, Robert Baratheon had fought against the Reach during the rebellion. Indeed, Margaery's chances to get married with Robert were very low, and her chances to marry the heir of the Iron Throne, Prince Joffrey, were probably no better.
However, this marriage proposal could prove a great opportunity. House Lannister was the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms. They were even richer than Margaery's family. If she married the Imp, she would become the Lady of the Westerlands. There are queens without a crown. What did her grandmother mean? Did she mean Margaery would have a better position as Lady of Casterly Rock than as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? Margaery wasn't sure about it. What could be better than to be queen?
Margaery wondered what it would be to be married to the Imp. There were horrible rumors about him. There were people who said he ate children. Others said he was uglier than a gargoyle. On the other hand, Margaery had been ready to marry King Robert if she had the opportunity, even though he was reputed for being fat, whoring and drinking all day and all night. On that point, he was no different from the Imp. Surely some rumors about Tyrion Lannister weren't true, or at least not entirely true. After all, rumors always bore exaggeration with them. It was very likely he wasn't as bad as people are saying. And if he was a pervert like many claimed… Margaery wondered what it would be like to make love to a dwarf. If he visited so many brothels, he was probably quite experienced. On the other hand, rumors always had some truth in them too.
Her grandmother was probably right. It was better to wait for the tourney and learn more about the whoremonger of Casterly Rock at this moment. For the time being, it was of no use to ask questions they couldn't get answers to. Margaery left the room and went back to her chambers.
Later in the night, Margaery was trying to imagine how Casterly Rock looked like. She could become the lady of this castle one day. She would ask questions to Maester Lomys about the seat of House Lannister in the following days. What would it be like to be the Lady of House Lannister? Margaery Lannister of House Tyrell, Lady of Casterly Rock and Lady of the Westerlands. The richest woman in all the Seven Kingdoms. Margaery liked that name. It sounded well. A smile formed on her lips. She didn't have any doubt about the titles, but she had some about the husband who came with them. She had many doubts about him.
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