A pleasant evening with the Tyrells

Margaery sank into the warm, lavender-scented water with a small sigh. She turned to her handmaiden.

"Thank you, you may leave me now, lay out my lilac gown for me, please; I will not require help dressing for dinner."

The girl curtsied briefly and left.

Margaery had spent the afternoon at one of the orphanages in Flea Bottom. King's Landing's poor recognised her very well and more than once, while she was on the visit, she had heard cries of "Gods Bless Queen Margaery." They already think of me as their queen. The thought brought her no joy whatsoever. She scrubbed her hair and skin and then fell back into the warm water. There was no need to hurry with her preparations. Tonight, she would be taking her evening meal with her family in their apartments; Tywin Lannister had declared that he needed private counsel with Cersei, Tyrion, and Joffrey. Margaery was glad to be spared a dinner with the Lannisters: after all, she would have to endure Joffrey's mother and grandfather almost constantly after her marriage. My new family. Margaery wondered if this was how Sansa had felt prior to her marriage to Jaime. She imagined not. Sansa had felt guilty for betraying the Starks: Margaery was playing her part in the family plan. Sansa had conflicting feelings for Jaime, but feelings none the less. Certainly, Sansa had not been in love with another man…

The water grew cold, and she raised herself out of the bath. She dried herself, threw a robe round her shoulders, and walked into her bedchamber. There, she pulled her chestnut curls into a braid at one side of her head and donned the clothes her handmaiden had left for her. She walked into the family solar and found Loras sitting near the window. His face wore a sullen expression, and she assumed he was dwelling on that morning's family discussion.

After Tyrion had alerted them that Cersei had been in communication with the Florents, Margaery and Loras had gone straight to their grandmother with this information. Margaery had not been lying when she had told Tyrion more than one household in the Reach resented the Tyrells' possession of Highgarden, and the Queen of Thorns had ensured they were not without informers when such were required. When confronted, the young lord of Brightwater Keep had quickly capitulated. Cersei Lannister had, indeed, written to him, asking for his help in a plot to kill Loras and make it look like a hunting accident (Olenna had remarked on the woman's lack of originality). In return, she had offered him gold and support to press his claim to Highgarden when Mace died without an heir. She had assured him that she would see to it that Joffrey did not seek to claim the title for any children his marriage to Margaery produced. It was clear that someone amongst the young lord's retinue had realised how risky the scheme was and had kept the queen's letter as a means of insurance. Currently, Lord Florent claimed he had refused involvement and had simply been waiting for Mace Tyrell to return to Highgarden, so he could inform him of the situation in person.

"Sadly, we have no way to prove the sneering little brat is lying, so, for now, there is nothing we can do about him." Olenna had remarked.

Loras stared at her in disbelief.

"We are doing nothing?! He has conspired to end my life, and we are doing nothing?!"

"I am glad to see your ears at least work, Loras! Yes. What would you have us do? No, dear boy, I don't actually want you to answer; I have no doubt it would involve a lot of men jumping on horses and charging about, trying to stab each other in the belly! We cannot act against the Florent, boy, as we cannot prove he did more than receive a letter. Now, this could be a way to get you out of that damn betrothal to Cersei Lannister: thank the Gods we will soon have the letter."

Loras' jaw clenched.

"What of Margaery? This shows what the Lannisters are capable of; we cannot leave her to their tender mercies."

"Margaery will be queen!"

"Oh yes, thank you for reminding me, grandmother. Do you think she will derive as much joy from that as Rhaella Targayern or as Elia Martell?"

Margaery turned to her brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Loras, grandmother is right. This does not give us sufficient reason to break my betrothal to Joffrey." She desperately wished that it did; but her brother was her immediate concern. She knew he lacked the mindset to control Cersei. She had been more and more anxious over the last weeks about what this marriage would mean for Loras, and if she could ensure it never happened, then she was more than willing to. He may be the knight, but I am the one who must be our champion.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Then, Margery's father had reached for her hand and looked at her, a baffled expression on his face.

"Do you not wish to marry King Joffrey, daughter?"

Had it not been for the tension in the room, Margaery would have laughed. She knew her father was not a clever man; she knew that he was puffed up with pride and had ambitions far beyond his abilities; but he loved her and Loras in his own way, and he genuinely thought he was doing the best for them. Having observed the Lannisters over the past months, she knew this was not to be taken lightly. Before she could respond to her father, Olenna cut in sharply:

"For gods' sake, Mace! It has been obvious to anyone with wits for quite some time that she finds Joffrey deficient in many aspects: chiefly, that he is too tall! However, she understands that she has come too far down this road to turn back now. The wedding ceremony will take place next week, and that is the end of the matter."

Loras had shaken his head and left the room. Margaery had noted that her grandmother had chosen to speak specifically of the wedding ceremony rather than the marriage, and she wondered if the Queen of Thorns was more active than she was letting on. Or maybe, Margaery was just clinging to any hope she could find.

Now she approached her brother with a sympathetic smile:

"Are you feeling calmer now, brother?"

Loras looked at her solemnly.

"When we arrived here, I told you this place was rotten to the core. It is worse than I ever imagined. Margaery, I know you are cunning, and charming, and all that you should be, but this will not be enough to protect you."

Hearing her younger brother voice her own fears made her stomach clench.

"And what would you have me do, brother?"

Loras looked her straight in the eye.

"You should run away. If you asked him to leave, he would go with you, I am sure of it."

Margaery knew whom her brother referred to. They had spoken of this before, and now she simply shook her head. Loras may be certain of Tyrion's heart, but she was not. He had spoken to her of his former loves – maybe one of those women still held his heart? Their last conversation had not ended on warm terms. Besides, how could she ask him to take such a risk? Leaving with her so close to her wedding was not far off treason. Nevertheless, the idea was certainly tantalising. Margaery was fully aware of the ridiculousness of her predicament; she had spent so long trying to make herself queen, and now, almost on the eve of her wedding, she was day dreaming about turning exile with Tyrion Lannister. She remembered his bitter toast to her. Even if Loras is right, and he does care for me now, how long will that last? How long can I stay by Joffrey's side before he despises or pities me? She did not know which would be harder to bear. From her first proper conversation with the little lord, it had felt crucially important to her that he saw her in a positive light. She realised now that his regard had come to mean more and more to her as her respect and admiration for him had grown. She wanted him to see her as more special than any other, because that was how she saw him. The idea that all this could be lost made her curse herself for ever wishing to place the crown on her head. Her turbulent thoughts made her irritable, and she looked at Loras sharply:

"It is not that simple, Loras, and you know it! People do not just run off to the Free Cities as they please! The Lannisters would have our heads before our ship left port!"

Her brother sighed.

"I knew you would say that. I have done all I can to try and protect you; be assured you can count on me."

Margaery looked at him warmly, but, at the same time, she wondered what he had meant. Before she could ask, Mace and Olenna arrived, and the family sat down to their meal. Margaery could not help but notice her father throwing more than one concerned glance her way; he seemed on several occasions almost about to speak but then thought the better of it. Instead, he attempted to engage Loras in trivial discussion, but her brother merely gave one word answers. Margaery herself found she had very little to say, and the meal passed in a decidedly subdued atmosphere.

When they were almost finished, Loras spoke up:

"Father, Grandmother, I spoke with Tywin Lannister today. I asked him whether there was a possibility of my being called to the Kingsguard. I know he had mentioned it to you when my betrothal to Cersei was first discussed."

"He said it to threaten us, you stupid boy! Do you think for one second we want to see you married to that woman?! I told you earlier: we can use the Florent plot to get you out of the marriage!" Olenna's exasperation was palpable. Loras was not subdued.

"Do you think for one second I want to marry any woman? Besides, someone has to protect Margaery: if I am a Kingsguard, she can keep me close, and she needs protecting from the King."

Olenna shook her head in disgust. Margaery squeezed Loras' hand.

"You do not have to do this, brother."

He gave her a smile.

"It is what I want anyway, Marge. Maybe before Renly, I could have gone through with some marriage, but not now."

"Well done, Loras! You have found a way to do exactly as you like whilst dressing it up in chivalric notions!"

Olenna levelled a glare at her dining companions before signalling to the girl who was serving.

"You girl, go to the kitchens and fetch me some cheese. If I am to endure morose company, I see no reason why I should not eat as I like." The girl nodded and left. Olenna looked around the table once more, and smiled crookedly:

"Well, what a delightful, stimulating evening with my family! Shall I send for a bard to complete the festive mood?"

Margaery attempted a smile, which she knew was brittle.

"Why not grandmother? And have him play 'The Rains of Castamere.' "

Her family looked at her with various degrees of concern on their faces. She managed another forced smile – it was that or start crying, and Margaery was not prone to tears, even now, when she felt as if she had been tense enough to snap for days.

At that moment, the door opened and the maid returned. She was weeping, and there were two guards at her side. Margaery stood up, a feeling of foreboding rising within her.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I am sorry, my lady, but you must all stay within your chambers. Guards have been sent throughout the keep. There was an incident earlier, in the Tower of the Hand."

" 'An incident?' What is that supposed to mean?!"

Olenna's sharp inquiry was followed almost immediately by the tolling of bells. Margaery looked at her brother, whose expression of shock, she was sure, was mirrored in her own face. The King is dead. Joffrey is dead!

No Purple Wedding but we've still got rid of Joffrey. More on that in the next chapter.

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