Author's notes: A bit of flashbacks in this one, as well as Willas and Margaery POV.

Chapter 4: Thorns

Willas woke up early, as usual; Sansa was still deeply asleep, though in her sleep she had rolled off him and was on her other side cuddling a pillow. She looked peaceful and content; he figured she had not felt that way in a long time.

Reaching for his cane, he got up, quickly tossing a silky robe on his naked body. He headed for the balcony; one of the perks of getting up so early was that he could see the sunrise on the gardens, and Willas loved nothing more than to see the golden light bring life to it. It was so quiet and peaceful; he had always enjoyed the tranquility.

He sat on the wooden bench of his balcony, admiring the view. Soon, his eyes lingered on a specific spot in the gardens; it was somewhat isolated from the main path were people took their usual stroll, a table with chairs under a wooden canopy, surrounded by thick rose bushes. It was there that he and his grandmother had had so many discussions - here they planned many things that would serve the future of House Tyrell.

He smirked. It was there they had set their plan to end Joffrey, which would come to fruition soon now.

Willas was furious as he sat down in front of her at the table. It was a rare sight indeed, to see him lose his usual cool and be so livid, especially at his father. She could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times she had seen Willas lose his temper. Though she found that sight to be quite entertaining in its own right, Olenna needed him to calm down.

"I can't believe - has Father lost his bloody mind?" Willas spat between his gritted tears.

"Can something that has never been there be lost?" his grandmother pondered.

Her light tone in such a grave situation gave him pause. She took time to take a bite from a fig taken from the fruits platter set on the table before continuing:

"A question for philosophers, I suppose."

"Grandmother, this is no laughing matter! If even half the things we have heard about him are true-"

"Then Margaery will be wed to a monster," Olenna conceded.

"This is folly - Grandmother, you have to talk him out of it."

"Impossible - Mace has made his mind already, he has given his word. The word of the Lord Oaf of Highgarden is all but final."

Willas was positively seething. His father would not even raise the taxes without asking him his opinion on the matter, yet he decided to promise Margaery's hand to this half-crazy boy king without so much as warning him? What in the seven hells had possessed him?

"This cannot happen," Willas said firmly as Olenna took a sip of tea. "This will not happen."

His voice was firm - Olenna could tell that he was angry still, but his outburst was over. Now he only had cold, ice cold anger. The old woman put down her cup of tea calmly. She could work with cold anger.

"Oh, I agree."

She shrugged under his confused gaze.

"Or it will not remain, anyway. She will marry him - on that front Mace has been clear, and even she is pleased by the prospect."

Willas had no difficulty believing it. Margaery was ambitious, she had always been this way. Even when they were children, she strived to be the best at everything she did. She wanted prestige; she wanted to be queen long before she had wed Renly Baratheon. Of course she was happy that she was to marry King Joffrey, and she probably was confident that she could wrap him around her little finger, as well. Willas loved his sister dearly, but if the rumours about Joffrey were even half-true, she was foolish to think he could be tamed completely. He would turn on her eventually, hurt her.

Willas' hand clenched in a fist. She was his beloved sister. He had always been closer to her than to his brothers, given that both Garlan and Loras were valiant knights, whereas he and Margaery were politically inclined. He would never let this mad boy lay a hand on her - he did not care that this was regicide.

"They will wed - but he will not live long enough to bed her. Not if we have our say."

She gave him one of her rare smiles, faint but sincere. Those were reserved to Willas and Margaery. She loved Garlan and Loras dearly, of course, they were her grandsons after all, but she was closest to Willas and Margaery, who shared her mind for politics.

"And we will have our say, regardless of what your father wishes. Don't we always?"

The plan had been set in motion not long after. They had decided that Margaery would come to King's Landing with as many people as she possibly could; of the main family, only Willas would remain in Highgarden. Mace, Alerie, Garlan, several cousins and even Lady Olenna herself would be with her, not to mention Tyrell guards and several handmaidens. Loras would be appointed in the Kingsguard so he could watch over her at all time.

If the things they had heard about Joffrey's treatment of Sansa Stark were true, they fully realized that these things had happened to her because she had been alone. This was no fault of her own, of course; but she had been alone and vulnerable. An easy target for a cruel tormentor. They would not make the same mistake with Margaery. The Lannisters needed the support of House Tyrell, and Margaery would constantly have allies and protectors in her vicinity.

Still, this would not protect her forever, hence their need for a more permanent solution, but this paired with her charm should keep Joffrey in check until the wedding. It was all they needed; once Joffrey would be out of the way, no doubt the Lannisters would offer Tommen as a replacement. He was much younger, and thus more pliable - Margaery would have no trouble at all bending him to her will, they were certain of it.

For some time, Olenna and Willas had disagreed on whether or not Margaery should be aware of the plan. Willas believed she should not be made aware - they could not risk her refusing, and her reaction would look far more genuine if she truly was shocked. When his grandmother had brought up the counter-argument that they were speaking of poisoning a chalice that she would have access to, and that they could not reasonably risk her taking a sip of wine at the wrong time, Willas had relented.

When she had been told, Margaery had tried to protest at first - then when she had understood that it meant she would then be Tommen's queen, she had smacked her brother on the arm for nearly keeping her out of their plot.

"What is my part?" she had then asked.

"Your part is to do absolutely nothing," Willas had replied firmly. "Aside from not drinking from the cup. We cannot risk giving the Lannisters any reason to think you are involved."

"Maybe cry a little," Olenna had added with a smirk. "For good measure."

Willas' eyes moved from the table to the horizon as the memories quietly faded away. Every piece was set, carefully planned for months. Just a few more weeks, and it would be dealt with.

Margaery's day had begun extra early; her handmaidens had bathed her, and brought a food platter for her to break her fast. Margaery thanked them, but she disregarded the food; there were to be seventy-seven courses at the feast, there truly was no need to make it seventy-eight. Wearing a silky emerald robe, she filled and brought a cup of water with her as she sat at the vanity. Her handmaidens were working on her hair, styling the deep brown locks elegantly.

Margaery's eyes moved to the crown, rested on a red silk cushion. It was gold and diamonds, elegant and feminine, with rose thorns around antlers. It was absolutely stunning - almost a shame that it had been made to be first worn at a wedding that would be so short lived. It was for the best, of course; her grandmother and brother were right. Her life would be far more comfortable as Tommen's queen, and he would be much easier to gain full control of. He was younger, and she could tell from their short interactions together that he was a far gentler soul than Joffrey, though this was hardly a difficult feat.

He's a monster, Sansa's voice echoed in her mind as a handmaiden took the crown and began arranging her hair around it. The plan had been set in motion even before Sansa had revealed the truth - Olenna and Margaery had simply sought confirmation - but she and Sansa were friends now, and it pained her to think of the ways Joffrey had tormented her. Margaery almost wished Sansa could have attended the wedding to see Joffrey die; but if she had stayed a single more day in King's Landing, she would have been forced to marry Tyrion Lannister.

Her hair was done now, and she stood up, allowing the handmaidens to remove her robe so they could start dressing her. The gown was beautiful beyond words, light green silk with golden threads, diamonds and emeralds; it truly was fit for a queen, but Margaery's thoughts were not on that.

Joffrey had been condemned long before Margaery had met Sansa, but befriending her had given her yet another reason to want to see him dead. Of course, she had become Sansa's friend in part to bring her to their side and make the match with Willas possible, but her care and affection for her were genuine. It had not been difficult to befriend her and bring her over to her family's side; Sansa had been so sad and lonely, she had quickly clung to Margaery as soon as she had treated her with kindness.

Poor girl, Margaery had thought to herself when Sansa had revealed some of the things Joffrey had done to her. Without a doubt, she would be happier as Willas' wife, even though Margaery knew that her friend had immediately thought of Loras, not Willas, when she had mentioned marrying her brother. Perhaps she would have preferred him; he was younger, and more handsome, but unlike Willas, Loras would never have preferred her. It was all for the best.

Her handmaidens were bringing the jewels now, the bracelet, the gold earrings, and the necklace her grandmother had chosen for her. Margaery knew that they were about to leave when the maiden cloak, thick green velvet with a golden rose, was brought and placed on her shoulders. She gave herself one final look before nodding in approval and taking her leave with her handmaidens.

She could feel all eyes on her as her father walked her through the Sept of Baelor and towards Joffrey. He was handsome, clad in gold and red; he wore his crown, gold stag antlers with rubies set in them, and held a cloak in his arms. Even from where she was, halfway across the sept, Margaery could see the red and she knew it was a Lannister cloak, not a Baratheon one. She was certain Cersei had had her hand in this. She did not care; this was a mock wedding. A farce to get to her true wedding to become Tommen's queen. Nothing Joffrey or Cersei did would matter.

They had finally reached Joffrey; he was especially handsome today, and he looked sweet and charming, but Margaery knew better. Still, she smiled warmly and a bit dumbly to him - Joffrey liked her dim-witted, sweet and innocent, she knew it, and today more than ever she had to play her part.

"You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection," the High Septon said towards Joffrey.

The king walked behind her, unclasping the golden rose that held her Tyrell cloak, and he let it slid down her shoulders to the floor. Margaery could have slapped him if she had not been groomed by her grandmother to always be in control and keep her masks up. How dare he treat her father's sigil with so little respect? He placed the Lannister cloak on her shoulders and resumed his position next to her as the High Septon spoke to the spectators. She joined hands with him as the old man tied them with a golden ribbon.

"Now," he told them, "Look upon another and say the words."

And Margaery turned to him, all smile and honey, and said the words in unison with him. She felt his hands on her cheeks, heard his voice proclaim his vow and love, and then he was kissing her as the crowd applauded and cheered for the royal couple. Margaery's only satisfaction was to feel Cersei's eyes glaring at her with so much intensity and hatred that it felt like she was burning through her.

Just a few hours and you will get your comeuppance as well, Margaery told herself as she walked down the steps, a smile plastered on her lips.

The feast had been going on for a while and by now, Margaery thought that if the next act was yet another interpretation of Rains of Castamere, she would strangle Joffrey herself to end it; she soon regretted her thought when the participants entered the stage.

Dwarves, all of them - Margaery felt a pang of sadness for Lord Tyrion. Choosing dwarves had been Joffrey's choice to mock him, humiliate his uncle, she knew it. Margaery knew him only a little, but he was kind, intelligent, and certainly did not deserve public humiliation during a royal wedding.

But even worse were who the dwarves represented; a mock version of Robb Stark - Margaery truly was glad Sansa was not here - on a wolf, a mock version of Stannis with his red witch, and of course there was a Joffrey, golden and good looking. The last one took all of Margaery's restraint to remain stoic. It was Renly, she could tell - and she could also tell he was riding a (very crude and only roughly accurate) impression of Loras. She was appalled at the cruelty and poor taste of this insult to both her brother and late husband.

As the dwarves fought - Joffrey defeating all of them one by one, mocking them - she sought the eyes of Loras; he was standing nearby, his face nearly as white as his cloak, his hand tight on the grip of his sword. Not a word, she implored him with her eyes, Don't say a single word, don't react. He nodded, though his jaw was visibly clenched.

Her eyes then slid to her grandmother, who was doing a spectacular job remaining calm, but she could tell she was furious at the disrespect. Briefly, Olenna nodded, and she figured it meant the poison was planted and it was only a matter of time now. Next to her, Joffrey was cackling at the scene, but Cersei was the only other person laughing. Even Tywin Lannister seemed angry at the distasteful display, and now Tyrion was nowhere to be seen.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Joffrey gulping down large sips of wine, and she hoped that whatever poison it was would act swiftly. The dwarves were clearing the stage now, and the performance had clearly put a damper on the mood. It seemed only Joffrey and his mother were vile enough to find this entertaining; straight in front of her, Margaery could see Prince Oberyn sitting at his table, visibly seething. His paramour was holding his hand and whispering to his ear, no doubt trying to call him down to avoid a scene.

"Look," Margaery said cheerfully in an attempt to change the mood and redirect everyone's attention. "The pie!"

People cheered as Joffrey cut the first slice, and she played the part of the doting new wife by feeding him bites of it. Such large pigeon pies tended to be dry, hopefully he would keep on drinking more wine.

He did. Again, and again.

And then he started coughing. A little at first, and she touched his arm gently, making sure her face looked concerned; he was coughing more and more, his face becoming redder and redder, drawing increasing attention to them. Now was the time to play her role.

"Oh gods," Margaery gasped as his red face started turning purple, "He's choking! Please-"

Joffrey half walked, half fell from the wooden dais where the table of honour was, falling to his hands and knees, coughing and retching.

"Someone help him!" she shrieked.

She saw a knight in a white cloak run next to her and rush to Joffrey, trying to get the king to pass whatever he might have choked on, and at that she turned away, finding solace in her grandmother's arms. Tears were streaming down her face as she sobbed, Cersei's desperate screams and wailing telling her all she needed to know.

"You," she heard the queen's trembling voice in her back, "You did this - you scheming bitch, you killed my boy!'

Margaery opened her mouth in shock. This they had never expected - neither she nor her elder brother or her grandmother had ever considered that Cersei might cast the blame so publicly and on Margaery. House Lannister needed their alliance too much - so they had thought.

"Seize her!" Cersei shrieked towards Lannister guards.

"Your Grace-" Margaery started, but she felt Lady Olenna's grip tighten for a brief second around her arm.

"Don't say a thing," she ordered her in a murmur.

Before she could realize it, Loras was in front of her, his hand on the pummel of his sword, shielding her from the Lannister guards. He had not drawn his sword or said a word, but the message was clear enough - make one step in my sister's direction and there will be blood. She saw the guards hesitate and look towards Tywin.

"The queen mother is very distraught and shocked," Tywin said sternly. "She does not mean it. Please, Lord Mace, my ladies, Ser Loras, accept our apologies."

"Oh I do mean it," Cersei spat, "This two-faced doe-eyed whore killed my son! I demand-"

"You do not know what you are saying," her father said firmly, loud enough to cover her voice, "Guards, take the queen mother to her chambers. She needs to rest."

Cersei was taken away from the scene, her loud protestations audible long after she was gone.

"Watch every gate, seal the harbour, search every ship - no one leaves this city," Tywin ordered to several guards.

The guards quickly left to carry out his orders, and Margaery felt Olenna taking her hand as she began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Tywin's cold voice said in their back.

"I am taking my granddaughter to my chamber," Olenna quickly replied. "She needs rest, and comfort - can you not see how shaken she is? To have seen her new husband like this - and then be accused so wrongly by your daughter - unless you also foolishly believe that she played a part?"

"Oh course not," he assured her. "You may leave."

The two ladies walked away quickly, Olenna briefly glancing at her son and grandson - all understood that they were to meet them there as soon as they could.

"We are leaving," Olenna said as soon as they were in her bedchambers, alone for the time being.

Margaery's jaw dropped to the floor.

"What? But what about - the rest?"

She meant being Tommen's queen of course, but would not say it out loud here, with spiders and little birds all over the castle. The door opened on Loras and Mace, who quickly closed the door behind them.

"The rest, as you put it, has been destroyed by Cersei Lannister, or did you not hear her accuse you of murdering her son?"

"Lord Tywin does not believe it," Margaery reasoned. "No one does, I am sure."

"She does," her grandmother retorted, "And that is dangerous enough on its own. She is mad with grief, petty and vengeful, and she still holds a lot of power - Tywin Lannister might be Hand, but she will be Tommen's regent now. There is no guarantee that Tywin can control her. We are leaving."

Loras looked confused

"We? Does that include me?"

"Of course it does," Olenna replied, "I would never leave any of you behind."

"But I'm sworn to the Kingsguard," he objected.

"You being part of the Kingsguard was part of the alliance for Margaery to marry Joffrey," Mace spoke for the first time. "If she is no longer to be queen, and if Cersei Lannister spat so publicly on our alliance-"

"Exactly," Olenna said. "Mace, send ravens to all of our bannermen - summon them back to Highgarden. Everyone pack your belongings, we are leaving in an hour - not you," she added towards Margaery.

Margaery frowned.

"You are staying here with me. Your handmaidens will gather your belongings."

Margaery knew there was no sense in protesting or arguing, not when her grandmother was like this. She nodded in silence and her father and brother quickly took their leave, also realizing that obedience was the only course of action.