Chapter 10: Queen of love and beauty
The next morning, Sansa was getting ready for her day with Jennisei's help when someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she distractedly said.
Through the mirror, she saw her sister-in-law enter the room.
"Good morning, Margaery," she greeted her, a smile lightening up her face.
"Good morning, Lady Margaery," the handmaiden said, letting go of Sansa's hair to give her a curtsy.
"Good morning," Margaery replied to the both of them. "May I?"
Sansa saw her gesture the fruits bowl on the food platter that Jennisei had brought earlier.
"Of course."
With a smile, Margaery picked up a raspberry and ate it.
"Is this a new gown?" the brunette asked. "It's beautiful."
Sansa was wearing a deep green gown that was tight around the breast and flowed down her middle and lower body, its silky fabric floating when she moved and walked: it had been made this way for her because her other gowns were too tight around the belly and uncomfortable to wear.
"Yes," she replied, "The others don't fit me anymore. This one lets me breathe freely. That's good enough," Sansa added towards Jennisei. "Thank you, I'll see you later."
The handmaiden quickly took her leave as Margaery took a bite from a strawberry.
"How are you?" she asked, a playful glee in her chocolate eyes. "Had you missed Loras?"
"Of course I had, I hadn't seen him in three months, and I had been worried sick about him. I know you did not kill Joffrey," she continued, "I know you would never have done such a thing, and I knew he had to fight for you, but the gods have taken so much from me already, I feared for his life."
"I did not want him to come," Margaery confessed.
She slowly breathed in as she sat to the table, glancing up at Sansa.
"I kept telling our father that I was innocent, and that I didn't need Loras to risk his life in my name. I wanted a regular trial, up until the day before, but Father forced my hand. Even then as I was led in the throne room I did not want to resort to the trial by combat, but when I saw how much of a front this trial was going to be..."
She shook her head.
"I looked up the throne and I saw Tywin Lannister, Kevan Lannister and some Lannister bannerman, and I thought into myself: Margaery, you are not getting out of this with your head still attached to your shoulders without Loras' help. I'm sorry that you had to fear for him because of me."
"I don't fault you for it," Sansa told her, sitting in front of her. "I told him to go back to you, I sent him. I'm sure he fought valiantly for you."
"Hasn't he told you anything about the trial?"
Sansa frowned.
"No, I did not ask, I was too excited about giving him the news - why, how did it go?"
"The queen named Ser Meryl," Margaery replied. "Poor man - even he must've known that she chose him because she did not have anyone else at her disposal. They traded blows for a while, and then Ser Meryl knocked Loras down, and for a split second I thought he was going to kill him - I got on my feet and nearly yielded for him, but Father didn't let me, and the next thing I knew Loras had his dagger to his throat."
"Did he kill him?" Sansa asked in a whisper.
A faint smile curved Margaery's lips.
"He almost did not get a chance to," she replied. "Ser Meryl was going to yield."
"Was going to?"
"Loras didn't let him finish."
"He's dead?"
"Oh, yes, most definitely."
Sansa let the information sink in: he was gone, the man who had exposed her in front of the whole court, the man who had struck her so many times, the man who held Loras to the ground as Joffrey nearly raped her, that man was unworthy of his title of knight and of his white cloak was dead.
"So," Margaery casually said, picking up another strawberry, "How did this first night together in three months go?"
"Margaery!"
"What?" she innocently asked. "Sweet girl, I am only trying to make sure my dear brother is treating you as kindly as he should."
Sansa laughed.
"He is, I can assure you. I have never been this happy," she finished with a smile.
"Can you believe the nerves of this man?"
Olenna rolled her eyes when her son angrily picked up the piece of parchment for the hundredth time.
"No, Mace, I absolutely cannot fathom it, please do tell me again, maybe you will convince me."
A raven had arrived about one hour ago bearing the news of Tywin Lannister's death, and Kevan Lannister's plea for peace and the return of the military and monetary support from the Reach, and for the last hour Mace Tyrell had been fulminating and ranting about it, as if being outraged could change the words that had been written on paper.
"He believes your grudge was against Lord Tywin," she sighed. "With his older brother deceased, he expects you to forget about the slight and return to King's Landing."
"My grudge is against Cersei Lannister who jumped on the first occasion to get ride of my sweet daughter! My grudge is against Jaime Lannister who paraded her through the throne room in iron chains, my grudge is against Tywin Lannister who sat there pretending that this would be a true trial, my grudge is against House Lannister as a whole! To hells with the Lannisters, the Others take them all! A slight - this was no slight, this was a disgrace! What kind of weak man does he take me for if he thinks that I'll be so quick to forget the way my dear Margaery was treated?"
"Good speech," Lady Olenna casually commented. "Perhaps you should write it down, it's bound to motivate the troops once they all get here."
Mace angrily slammed his hand on the wooden desk, ignoring his mother's witty comment.
"I am done playing the game of these kings," he spat. "I supported Renly Baratheon - I gave him my armies, supplies, my daughter as a wife, a queen-"
"Your daughter, whom he did not even bed," Olenna managed to add.
"- and my son to protect him and fight for him-"
"Your son, whom he definitely did bed."
"- and he managed to get himself killed in his own tent!" Mace continued, ignoring his mother's interruptions. "I offered the Reach's full support to King's Landing, I gave their child king a beautiful queen-to-be, and they how did they repay me? By throwing her in a black cell and framing her for regicide! Let them fight among themselves to figure out who'll get to sit on this ugly chair, we have more important things to deal with."
He sat down behind the desk.
"Sansa being pregnant is excellent," he said. "We need to make it known across Westeros, we will hold a tournament to mark the event. It better be a son, and a healthy one, I'm not sure if Loras will manage to get her with child again."
"You're being unfair to the boy," Olenna replied, shaking her head. "He's obviously done what needed to be done."
"I had every right to doubt after what happened, or rather did not happen, between Renly and Margaery."
"Well, Loras is not Renly."
And I'll be damned if he hasn't started to feel something for the Stark girl, Olenna reflected, taking a sip of wine.
Two weeks later came the day of the tournament held by Mace Tyrell, both to celebrate his daughter-in-law's pregnancy and to officially declare war to the Boltons: Sansa was alone with Jennisei in her room, as Loras had left early in the morning to get ready.
"The wind is chilly today, my lady, you will need this."
Sansa smiled absently as Jennisei put a silky shawl on her shoulder. The shawl had been made for her especially, and it was deep green to match her gown, with fine and elegant embroideries: the pattern alternated between the golden Tyrell rose and the silvery Stark direwolf. She wore the emerald ring and golden rose pendant given to her by Olenna after her wedding to Loras, and her handmaiden had done fantastic work curling and arranging her fiery hair. She looked absolutely stunning, but she seemed rather uneasy.
"Do you think Loras will be all right?" Sansa asked in a whisper.
"My lady," the bastard young woman replied with a smile, "Your husband is a jouster of prodigious abilities, I have heard all about it. I'm sure he will not only be all right, but bring you pride as well."
"Your handmaiden has the truth of it," Margaery's voice said from the door frame.
When Sansa turned around, startled, Margaery smiled to her apologetically. Margaery's own handmaiden, a pretty girl with golden hair and green eyes, gave her a curtsy and a courteous "my lady" when Sansa set her eyes on her, and she remained in the corridor when Margaery stepped inside the bedroom.
"I'm sorry to intrude, sweet sister, but the door was open, and I could not help but hear your worries. Loras is one of the finest knights in Westeros, and without a doubt the finest knight in the whole Reach. You have nothing to fear."
"You feared for his life when he fought in your trial by combat," Sansa commented when Margaery put her arm under hers, ready to leave.
The blonde handmaiden had a hard time repressing her laugh, and Sansa saw Margaery's lips curve in a faint smile.
"I did," she admitted. "Look at us, fearing for such a capable warrior, aren't we ridiculous? Come," she added, putting an auburn lock behind Sansa's hair, "Let's show the Reach what how beautiful the new Lady Tyrell is."
And the two ladies of Highgarden left the room, their handmaidens following in silence.
The sun was shining bright in the sky, despite the chilly wind that Jennisei had warned her mistress about: walking alongside Margaery, Sansa made her way to the tribune of honor, where Mace Tyrell was already installed, his mother sitting on his right, his wife standing on his left. As she looked around, Sansa saw many sigils that she recognized as vassals to house Tyrell, and she knew that the tribune was filled with Mace Tyrell's bannermen, their wives and children. "My ladies," they all whispered respectfully - although in her back she could hear some wondering what justified Sansa Stark's presence here - as she and Margaery walked pass them. When they sat one next to another, next to Lady Olenna, the knights entered the arena and began parading around, waving at the cheering crowd.
"Go," Margaery whispered to Sansa as she elbowed her discreetly.
Sansa got up and made her way to the front, holding the piece of metal tightly in her palm. Loras was easy to notice, riding a white horse with the Tyrell coat-of-arms and wearing a shiny armor with spectacular metalwork and a deep green cloak: when he saw her he led his horse towards her, and she smiled to him before gesturing him to get closer, which he did. She did not hear the lords and ladies behind her anymore, and she knew that all of them were watching and listening: the vast majority of them had never seen Sansa Stark, and it seemed that the news of her marriage to Loras had not reached everyone, but Mace Tyrell sought to solve this. "He will ask for your favor and you will grant it," he had ordered her the night before, "I want my bannermen to see the two of your together."
"My lady," Loras told her with a smile on his lips, "Will you do me the honor of granting me your favor for this day?"
"My lord," Sansa replied, "The honor is mine."
She pinned the silvery brooch next to the golden clasp of his cloak: his was a rose, of course, and hers was a direwolf.
"May the Mother protect you," she said, "And may the Warrior give you courage."
Gently, he took her hand and put a delicate kiss on her fingers, and as he rode off with the other knights, Sansa resumed her seat, feeling many pairs of eyes on her as she did so.
"That was well done," Olenna commented in a whisper. "Now we can only hope that Loras wins, or else we'll look like fools."
"Grandmother," Margaery sighed.
Sansa and the Tyrells watched attentively as knights after knights jousted against each others: Loras rode brilliantly every time, unhorsing every single opponent, up to the last one. At the end of the day, when Loras' final opponent bit the dust, Sansa found herself cheering happily with the rest of the crowd, including the bannermen who had all lost the tournament - and, no doubt, a lot of gold in bets - but were obligated to celebrate the victory of their liege lord's son.
When Loras was presented with the flowers crown to give to his queen of love and beauty, he took it carefully, married women and pretty maidens all trying to get his attention to gain the handsome knight's favor, but he rode his horse pass them all to the tribune of honor, where he stopped his mount.
"It is to your kindness and beauty that I owe my victory today," he said loud and clear towards Sansa, who, alongside Margaery, was making her way to the front through the vassals and their wives. "And for that, I beg you to accept this crown."
A large smile on her lips, Sansa leaned in a little so that he could put the crown of white flowers on her head.
"I name you my queen of love and beauty," he proclaimed, "You, the fairest lady of them all, and my beloved wife."
He leaned in to kiss her cheek and so that he may whisper to her ear what no one else was able to hear:
"And my queen in the North."