A new chapter... already. I think this is because I feel guilty for leaving you off the hook for over an entire month last time.

I know many people were eager to see Tyrion and Margaery again. Well, here you are served. I hope you'll enjoy seeing the power couple of this fanfiction after such a long absence.


MARGAERY XXII

The wind whipped her face. Despite the warmer gown she wore, she felt cold out there, the gazebo carved into the cliff of Casterly Rock offering no protection where she was standing. Her hair flew over her face. The heavy sleeves hit her chest, unable to entirely protect her crossed fingers.

She stood there over two years ago, in the exact same position, while darkness fell upon the Westerlands just like today, but with a lighter robe. Back then, Tyrion had just revealed the truth about his first wife. Margaery had come here to be alone, and she did it for the same reason today. She was thinking of Tyrion again, if not for the same reasons.

Jaime and Cersei were dead. It had been confirmed. The Kingslayer died at the end of the battle, at the feet of the Iron Throne where he murdered his king twenty years ago. As of Cersei, she was executed, her head cut off her body. Within a few months, half the royal family was killed. King Robert, Renly, Joffrey and Cersei were gone. Only Tommen remained here at the Rock, along with his sister Myrcella in Dorne, and Stannis and his wife and daughter.

Tyrion was mourning, just like Margaery was. They both lost members of their family. Margaery didn't know if Tyrion only mourned his brother, or if he also mourned Cersei and her son. He wasn't sure himself. When she asked him, he said he was definitely not mourning Joffrey. He didn't say he wouldn't mourn Cersei. Margaery had not pressed the issue.

In some way, Margaery was mourning not only her brother but also her brother-in-law. She regretted more the impact it had on Tyrion than the actual death of Jaime Lannister, but she found it enough to somehow mourn the man, even though he didn't deserve it. Tyrion said he mourned her dead brother too, so that was something she owed him in the very least.

The journey from Deep Den to Casterly Rock had been anything but merry. The ambiance was dark and silent. They only arrived two days ago. She and Tyrion slept in separate rooms. He left her the lord's chambers, preferring his former rooms, back when he was the second son of Tywin Lannister, the son whose existence he barely acknowledged. He kept himself busy with discussions about war, and she managed to keep her mind occupied by helping Sansa to settle in. The Stark girl seemed to get a little better as they travelled, away from the place where her father died and away from the people who murdered him. However, her mood turned darker as the news reached them. Sansa had become very good at hiding her emotions, but she didn't grow in an environment where court intrigues were the main occupation of a normal day like Margaery did, and she wasn't taught by a master like Olenna Tyrell. The Lady of Casterly Rock knew how to decipher the smaller signs of emotions and feelings.

She spent a lot of time with Sansa lately. The girl needed someone to talk to, even though Margaery suspected the real reason why she dedicated so much time to the Stark girl was because she wanted to stay away from her husband. They crossed each other's path every day, but their former relationship was gone. They were unable to rekindle it. Margaery could barely try to comfort Tyrion over his loss, even though she wanted to… as much as she wanted him to comfort her. She thought about her parents, who just lost their son. They could rely on each other. Why couldn't she and Tyrion do the same?

Because he lied to me.

"My lady."

The voice she wanted to hear, but at the same that she didn't want to hear. She gulped, then turned to face him. Just like her, he wore black. Everyone in Casterly Rock wore black, and so did many people in Lannisport. Even Sansa did. Margaery knew she didn't want to do anything to indispose her hosts, but she had no doubts Sansa might be using the opportunity at the same time to mourn the people in her family she lost. She never had the chance to mourn them in King's Landing, not with Joffrey and his kingsguards threatening her at every corner. It was probably for the better that they all had someone to mourn.

"What do you want, my lord?"

She noticed a small scroll of paper in his hands. She felt that other bad news were coming. Judging from his behaviour, it had to be the case. Her husband looked down. He was just as uncomfortable with her as she was with him.

"I know you wanted to be alone and that this is your private place, but I thought you ought to be the first to know."

He raised his hand with the scroll to be taken. She approached him, resigned, and took the parchment. Her hand lingered on his for a moment. It didn't last long, but these were the kind of small gestures they did to try to show each other's support. When she looked at the paper, she noticed immediately the seal, all black, displaying a tree with a sword inside.

"It came from Ironrath."

Tyrion stated what she had already guessed. Her reading made her fears come true.

My dear Mira,

My dear, dear Mira,

A raven sent by your father just arrived at Ironrath. There was a great battle near King's Landing. Your brother Rodrik died on the battlefield. Your father is still alive and well, though he is heartbroken, just as I am.

Please, stay close to Lady Lannister. This might be your best chance now. The North might be lost.

I love you.

Your mother

She wondered if Elissa Branfield truly believed that her daughter would be safer at Casterly Rock, or if she knew her messages were being read and she wanted to give the impression her daughter would never leave Margaery's side. Maybe both. It was true that with the battle Stannis recently won over the Starks and the Tullys, where they lost half their forces, and that now he was chasing them through the Riverlands, the odds were fairly against Robb Stark. The reign of the Young Wolf wouldn't be long. Mira was better off to stay in the Westerlands.

"You read it?" she asked.

"Creylen told me the content. He reads every raven that flies in and out. I just… thought you'd like to know. In case you would like to tell her yourself. I know Mira is important to you."

"Yes, she is."

They stayed like that together, for a moment, together but not really together. Finally, he walked away after wishing her a good night.

Margaery remained at the gazebo for a little while longer. She spent a lot of time thinking about everything that happened these last few months and she had come to a conclusion. There was just something more she needed. But first, she had to visit a friend to tell her grievous news.

Mira wouldn't be in her personal apartments at this hour. She would be waiting in Margaery's chambers, to prepare her for the night. As she walked through the corridors of the Rock, she noticed the increased number of soldiers and guards. Tyrion placed more inside the walls of the castle.

She followed an empty corridor, the torches casting dark and long shadows on the walls, the floor and the ceiling. She heard whispers, impossible to understand first, but getting clearer as she moved forward.

"Ser Pounce! Where are you?"

She stopped. Margaery knew that voice, and she knew the corridors of Casterly Rock well enough to be certain of where the voice came from. After hesitation, she kept moving. A boy wouldn't frighten her. The whispers turned into voices soon enough.

"Your Grace, we've searched everywhere. He's not here."

"You're wrong. He's here, not far."

At the turning of a corner, she found them. She remained hidden, her black attire providing helpful camouflage. Tommen was in the middle of the tunnel, Ser Barristan and Ser Preston with him. The knight of House Greenfield looked bored, while his Lord Commander seemed a little amused by the situation, though tired as well. The king was looking all around, in every corner, to find the only knight who was authorized to sleep in his own room.

His gaze wandered from place to place, until it stopped at one specific spot, a hole in the wall, at the level of the floor. Tommen plunged his hands and arms into the hole and came out of it with a ball of furs, meowing.

"We found you, Ser Pounce. You cannot hide."

The smile on his face and the shining of his eyes were impossible to miss.

"Congratulations, your Grace, but I fear you must rest now," Ser Barristan said, his voice heavy from the lack of sleep. Margaery could only pity the old knight. He hadn't filled the ranks of the Kingsguard yet and took most of the burden on his shoulders.

"Are you still tired, Ser Barristan?" the king asked.

"I'm afraid I am, your Grace. I was just as young as you are once, but not anymore. These old muscles of mine are getting rusty. I confess that I probably want to go myself to bed much more than your Grace."

"I'm sorry, Ser. I didn't want to exhaust you."

"No worry. Let me escort you, and then I'll rest."

"Of course, Ser. Let's go back to my chamber."

If Barristan Selmy had dared to tell Joffrey he was tired, the arrogant boy would probably have called him an old man, at best. Now they headed in her direction. She turned the corner and met them face to face.

"Aunt Margaery!"

Tommen was all smile, his cat buried into his arms, as he looked at her. He didn't even wear a crown right now. Margaery looked at him and saw no king. She didn't see a bastard born of incest either. There was only a boy, a boy with his favorite cat in his arms. He once told Margaery Joffrey had threatened him to skin the poor beast alive and mix his innards in Tommen's food. Maybe she should have been disgusted by him, but all she could feel looking at Tommen were sadness and pity.

"My lady." Ser Barristan bowed to her, and so did Ser Preston. She forced herself to smile, something she did so often in her life that it turned into a second nature.

"Auntie, we just found Ser Pounce."

He showed her the cat who stirred, showing the same signs of exhaust than the other people around. Margaery barely hesitated before she ruffled his fur, earning purrs in return.

"I believe everyone here is good for a little rest. I'd better let you go back to your chambers, your Grace," she said.

"Yes, auntie. Have a good night."

They walked away. She looked at the boy slowly disappearing and resumed her path, her mind troubled by renewed thoughts that plagued her for days.

When she reached the doors of their chambers, she thought that nothing had changed. It was still Casterly Rock, the greatest castle in all the Seven Kingdoms, the castle whose lady she was… the only difference from the last time she was there was how things were with her husband.

She found Mira, Sera and her other handmaidens ending the preparation of the chamber and the bed she shared with Tyrion for over four years. She just reached her sixteenth name day when they met, and now she was twenty, a woman by all standards. So much time had passed, and yet… So much more could still happen here.

"Thank you all. You can go and rest. Except for you, Mira. I need to talk with you."

The other girls all left. They didn't wonder why Margaery sent them away without preparing her for the night. They were used to this late behavior from their mistress. It had been like this ever since she came back from her journey in the Stormlands. Some glanced at Mira, with fear or sympathy in their eyes. They must be afraid she was about to remove Mira from her service. She would do no such thing, though she wondered if that wouldn't have been kinder news for her northern friend.

"Mira, please sit. I need to tell you something very important."

Dutifully, the northern girl obeyed her command. Margaery took place in front of her.

"We just received news from your family. Bad news."

Her handmaiden had remained impassive up to now, but her brows raised at the mention of her family.

"Has something happened to them? Is it the Ironborn? Is Ironrath in danger?"

"No, it's not Ironrath, Mira. Nothing happened to your mother or your siblings in the North. It's about the battle that took place near King's Landing."

She had all the attention of her friend now. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then she said it.

"Your brother Rodrik is dead. He was killed during the battle."

In an instant, Mira's face fell down. Her lips moved, but no word came out of them. She gulped so hard that Margaery hear the noise. She looked everywhere, as if she was searching some help, then her eyes went back to her mistress.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was strangled. "There's no chance that he might…"

Margaery shook her head. "I'm afraid not. We received this raven from your home. I'm sorry we opened it before you, but Tyrion has every raven coming in and out read."

Mira didn't reply right away. She ignored the scroll of paper Margaery handed her. "I understand."

Margaery saw the tears coming to her eyes. She stood up and came to her friend's side, placing her hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry, Mira. I know what it is to lose a brother." She let some silence settle between them. "I can give you a day of rest tomorrow, if you want."

"No, thank you, my lady. I… I'll just go to bed. I'll be back in the morning… to attend you."

"If that's what you want… You may go, Mira."

Slowly, her friend raised and walked to the door.

"Mira." She stopped when Margaery called, but she didn't turn to face her. "If there's anything you need, just tell me. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, my lady."

She resumed her path. Margaery supposed she was crying and didn't want to show it to her. Maybe she should force her to rest tomorrow. She just lost a brother. Margaery knew only too well what it was, to lose someone you love and to not be able to mourn him.

She remembered the first time Mira celebrated her name day at Highgarden. There wasn't much of a celebration for it. Such events were only celebrated for important people, such as kings or queens, or lords and ladies and their children, and mostly when they were at home, in their castles. Handmaidens, no matter the family they came from, had no right to feasts or anything resembling for this occasion. At most, their names were mentioned by the lord at dinner, and a toast was given, but nothing more.

Margaery, just like her mother and grandmother, made a tradition of offering gifts to the people close to her the day they added one more year to their age. When Mira turned fourteen, Margaery had offered her a brooch that once belonged to her grandmother. The Queen of Thorns herself suggested that gift. A few gifts had also come from her family in the North. Her eldest brother sent her a very rare book about the history of House Manderly. To help you remember where you come from, while not forgetting where you're heading, the word accompanying it read. The choice of this house was no coincidence. The Manderlys had been lords in the Reach once, before they were welcomed by the Starks on the western coast of the North.

Mira's eyes had been shining as she looked at the gifts her family sent her. Margaery could see she missed them and that it caused this reaction far more than to receive these presents. Her handmaiden appreciated the presents Margaery and a few other people at Highgarden gave her, including that of her cousin Willas, a book on Dornish poetry. However, none could replace her parents, brothers and sister. No matter what Margaery would do, she couldn't make Mira forget about her brother's death. All she could do was to be there for her and help her the best she could.

She wondered a moment how she and Tyrion could have helped each other, had there not been his lies concerning Jaime and Cersei. She told herself for a long time that without this, maybe Loras would still be alive. Though, what would have happened if Tyrion told her the truth? Would he still have wanted to protect his siblings? What choice would she have made then? Margaery realized with horror that she didn't know. Back then, if she had been placed in a situation where she had to choose between her husband or her family…

She thought about Loras, who was ready to kill the man she loved. Did it really matter for him that Joffrey was a bastard or not? He sided with Renly early in the war, probably even before he knew who Joffrey was, maybe not even caring whether Stannis told the truth or not. Did Renly care? He didn't seem to care much about the rights of succession. He rose in rebellion against his elder brother. Did the fact Joffrey was the result of an incest truly matter?

"Stop."

She said the word aloud. That was enough. She knew why she was so upset when Tyrion finally confessed the truth. She was angry because he hid the truth to her, because he didn't trust her with something like that. She noticed tears falling on her cheeks. She wiped them, got rid of her clothes and went to bed without further preparation.

A man was being carried on a wagon. His hands and feet were tied to it. He only wore a simple shirt. People in the courtyard and on the battlements looked at him as he crossed the distance to the stage. Everyone was silent. Arrived at the steps leading to the stage, the gaolers untied him. Four knights escorted him. Margaery was very close. She had waited this moment for so long, and finally it came. Jaime Lannister stood, his walking uncertain, his face empty. Their eyes met as he slowly walked ahead. When he tried to take the first step to the stage, he missed it and stumbled. A man helped him to not fall. The man was his former Lord Commander.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan. But when I come down again, let me shift for myself, as well as I can."

The old knight nodded, a grim expression on his face, a mixture of sadness and disappointment. Ser Jaime resumed his climbing, the shadow of a smile on his lips. When he reached the top, only the High Septon and the executioner, Ser Ilyn Payne, stood with him. He was about to speak with Ser Barristan climbed on the stage as well. The two men exchanged a look. Both nodded to each other. The Kingslayer turned back to the crowd.

"I've never been good with speeches, but since this is my last opportunity to make one, then I better do it. I ask you to bear witness with me that I shall now suffer death for the love I bear for a woman."

His eyes seemed to wander in the crowd, looking for someone. His lips quivered and finally his gaze fell upon her, where they remained.

"I beg you earnestly to follow my brother, and to pray for him if you think it's worth it. And tell him I died the lover of our sister, but his brother first. Tell my brother… that he is a hundred times the heir our father wished I was. And tell him… that I always cared for him… more than I ever cared for Cersei."

As it became clear he wouldn't speak further, Ser Ilyn knelt before him. For the first time, Margaery thought there was sadness in the eyes of the executioner.

"Ser Ilyn is asking for your pardon and blessing," Ser Barristan told her brother-in-arms.

Ser Jaime did something Margaery did not expect. He took the executioner by the shoulders and forced him back on his feet.

"I never had the chance to tell you, Ser Ilyn, but you are a good man. One of the best my father ever had. You will give me this day a greater benefit than any mortal man can ever be able to give me. Pluck up your spirits, and be not afraid to do your office."

People began shouting, some asking for blood, others begging to let him live. There were also people who remained silent. Jaime Lannister, resigned to his fate, knelt and pressed his elbows on the execution block. He looked at her all this time. The High Septon recited prayers while Ser Ilyn prepared to deliver the final blow. People prayed with him all around Margaery among the shouting of the crowd. Slowly, her husband's brother lowered his head on the block. Margaery could see his eyes. They were shut. He opened them, then raised his arms.

The longsword fell in one sweep on the knight's neck, cutting it clean from his body. Jaime Lannister was dead.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

Far away, someone screamed like Margaery never heard. It faded as the blood coming from the lifeless body of the Kingslayer poured on the stage and down in the courtyard.

The world vanished all around. A complete darkness surrounded her. Light began to emerge from it, coming from a long but tight window, so high she could only see the grey sky through it. She was in a dark room, comfortably furnished and arranged, but a dark room all the same. A prison.

The crowd roared outside. It would happen soon. Desperate, she looked around. She had to see it. She noticed a huge box in a corner. She struggled to move it to the window, each movement being difficult. She then added a stool before the box, so she could climb on it.

Outside, the crowd was gathering. It would happen in the same courtyard and on the same stage where Ser Jaime was executed. Only this time it wasn't Tyrion's brother they brought forward. It was her own, Loras, dressed exactly the same way as the Kingslayer. Many people were present, many of whom were present the last time, including Ser Barristan Selmy, the rest of the Kingsguard, Lord Varys, Petyr Baelish, Pycelle, Ser Kevan, Genna, Sansa and even Mira. Margaery had asked her to be present at the execution since she couldn't.

Two men brought Loras roughly to the execution block. Unlike Ser Jaime, who seemed to show some honor and dignity, none could be seen in Loras. Perhaps it was only because the crowd didn't show him any respect. Where some had observed silence or begged to spare Ser Jaime, Loras was only insulted and mocked. She knew what was going to happen. She knew her brother behaved in such a way that it was a likely outcome, perhaps an inevitable one, but she hoped still against all odds that something might save him in the very end.

"I say to you…"

People didn't listen to him as he spoke. Margaery placed a hand on the window. She wanted to get through, to hug her brother one last time, to save him, to do anything but to stay there, far away from him, while she watched him die.

"I say to you trust in the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Crone, the Warrior, and the Smith. Do not trust in the vanities of this world, for if I had done so, I think I would still be alive, as you are now. In the very least, I get to die for the man I love. I just wish I could live with him."

People kept insulting and mocking him as he mirrored Ser Jaime's movements, with the exception that his head was forced on the block by the executioner and he wasn't given one last chance to pray if he wanted. His head was turned to the side, unlike Tyrion's brother who was looking to the ground when he died. Ser Ilyn touched his neck three times with his blade to be sure it was well aligned. Then with one swift blow, he cut off his head from his body.

Margaery burst into tears, looking at the headless body of her brother from afar, shaking, what remained of his life leaving it. She cried and screamed, the pain in her heart as lively as if she was stabbed. She didn't have the courage to see the four other people who died under the same sword used by the same arms, her brother's blood still on it. In the end, she stumbled and fell to the floor.

She woke up in the bed, sweating and gasping. She felt cold. The temperature had fallen since the last time they were at Casterly Rock. She quickly put on a nightgown to protect herself from the cool air and sat on a nearby chair. She continued to shiver, shaken by the dream she just made.

It's only a dream.

She remembered that when Tyrion made nightmares, she used to be there for him when he woke up. Instinctively, she looked around to find him, but the bed was empty. They didn't share it anymore.

Out of nowhere, she cried. She cried a lot these past weeks, only when she was alone, to not show eventual weakness to the others. But her world was crumbling, falling apart, and so she was. Her brother's blood was everywhere. The shadow loomed over her, threatening her family and everyone else she cared for, all the people she loved.

The shadow. A long shadow, taking all those she held dear. The shadow who ruined her life.

Slowly, she dried her tears and swept away what was left of them. She clenched her fists. The time had come to face her demons, and for the man responsible for her brother's death to pay. She stood up and, determined like she had never been, Margaery Lannister of House Tyrell went to see the man she married.


I don't know if some of you noticed, but the dream Margaery made is inspired from the TV show "The Tudors", where Margaery's actress plays the role of Anne Boleyn. Jaime's execution is mirroring that of Thomas More, while Loras' mirrors that of George Boleyn. Note that I do not see Margaery as an equivalent of Anne Boleyn, and that I see Tyrion even less as an equivalent of Henry VIII. I just liked the execution scene of Thomas More so much that I wanted to include something similar in this fanfiction. Plus, I thought the executions fitted in some way the different fates of both characters in this story. Jaime might have died in a more honorable way than Loras, and George Boleyn happened to be homosexual just like Loras. I loved to adapt Thomas More's final speech for Jaime, replacing his double loyalty to the Church and the king by Jaime's loyalties to Tyrion and Cersei.

We'll get to see the power couple together much longer in the next chapter.

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Next chapter : Tyrion