A/N: I've been on a bit of a writing spree - so let me know what you think! This chapter adds a little bit of a worldbuilding on a very interesting subject. Alerie Tyrell is the younger daughter of Leyton Hightower, yet she marries Mace Tyrell instead of her older sister, Malora, who seems like she would be closer in age to Mace? That, and the strange dislike Olenna has of Alerie (or at least her increased likelihood to snap at her perfectly friendly and kind good-daughter), so I had to theorize a bit. Also, Margaery sets the stage with the oldest and greatest weapon the Westerosi use...plain old manipulation. Will it work? Only time will tell.
MARGAERY III
"-Tourney! Marge, a real tourney! And there'll be lists! And Willas said he was going to put his names on the lists, and, and father was so pleased when he heard that-" my excitable brother of seven, almost eight, namedays excitedly babbled.
I loved my brother, but there were only a finite number of times a person could hear their sibling gushing about an event that everyone knew about, particularly an explosive tourney that would be a major event in the history of Westeros. This latest exultation would make seventeen, and so, I tuned out most of Loras's excited babblings as we walked around the garden, trying not to think of the implications of Willas's first tourneys, or the horrible anxiety at the pit of my stomach at the thought of the outcome. The Tourney of backstory fame, where Willas meets Oberyn, goes up against him, and cripples himself in the process. This tourney was a major determinant of Willas's fate, and could literally be the difference between life and death for my poor brother, if I did nothing about it.
If I warned him and he didn't participate, the Westerosi butterfly effect could sweep in and give him an even worse injury later, or he could escape from the tourney unscathed, become a knight enter a battle that would kill him in wars that were almost inevitable. At least a "cripple", by Westerosi standards, wouldn't have to go out on the battlefield. Seven knows there were no shortages of battles in the future, which might be a safer option for him. Of course, if the battle got too close to Highgarden, he would be defenseless if he were crippled, but at least he wouldn't be leading suicidal charges down a battlefield.
Yet, if I didn't warn my older brother, he'd be in constant pain his entire life or the Tourney could be worse because of my presence or some change I had randomly created. Would I be a terrible sister if I intentionally let him cripple himself, or worse? Not only that, he would be known as "Willas the Wilted" because of the very deep depression he would fall into, his chances of finding a loving partner who would see him beyond the amazing man he was would be hindered by Westerosi ableism, and his marriage prospects would be ruined.
This tourney was critically important, as the first tourney that had been held in Highgarden since my birth, as the last Tyrell child, before the end of Robert's Rebellion, and was an indication of the Seven Kingdoms recovering from the deep rifts caused by the War, yet it filled me with a soul-deep dread that would only get worse the more it was talked about.
Evidently, Loras had been emphasizing a point, as he had finally resorted to wildly gesticulating to capture our attentions, when I zoned back in.
"-Gar said that there would be Dornish people there!" he finished as we joined the rest of the family.
"That's right, little knight, and the Red Viper among them, or so grandmother says", Garlan piped cheerfully from behind us. "Though, I'm not sure how much of it was her exaggerating and how much of it was true. You know how she loves to scare us with stories about the Dornish."
"Garlan, dear, that's a bit unbecoming of you!" Mother chided us exasperatedly. "Your grandmother does not mean to scare you with those stories. You know those are just stories, and your grandmother is a very realistic woman, who does like to tell stories, I will say…" she muttered.
Maybe I could have a little fun with this. I shot my brothers a conspiratorial look, their eyes catching mine and causing all of us to grin slyly at one another.
"Oh, Mother, Grandmama was telling me the other day about all the different Dornish poisons that they use. It was really scary to hear about, because she said-" I chirped.
"-that there was one that made people's eyes bulge out and turn red! And they go purple and start choking and die!" Loras continued, finishing my sentence with long practice of committing mischief together.
"Mother, you must know that she told Willas and I stories about that one poison that causes you to uncontrollably retch until your insides are on your outsides when we were younger. Gave me nightmares for weeks!" Garlan added cheekily, winking at us when Mother wasn't looking.
We were all lying, of course, as our dear grandmother would have never done that, but it was funny. I will have to say though, I'll have to commend Loras on remembering the details of the poison I had told him about last week under the guise of an "interesting new book". What a clever boy, my older brother was.
Mother herself did not appreciate the thought of her good-mother reading such gruesome details to her children, and turned a little green at the thought of Dornish poisons.
"That-"
"That woman!" Mother sputtered, which caused the three of us to burst into giggles. Mother sighed, knowing she had been had.
"Must you give your lady mother a fright like that?" She asked us, causing us to shake our heads.
"We're sorry Mother, we just wanted to have a little fun," Garlan apologized gallantly. Loras and I repeated these apologies as well, even if it was because of a prank.
Her eyes softened. "Now, Garlan, I know you have training with the master-at-arms, and Loras, shouldn't you be with Maester Lomys for your lessons?" Mother asked my brothers, who looked guiltily at her. "Now, off with you two miscreants. Margaery, you'll stay with me."
I hugged Garlan and kissed Loras on the cheek, and allowed them to hastily run to their stations. As I watched them leave, I grabbed my mother's hand, giving her the chance to brilliantly smile at me as we walked around the garden. It was clear, however, that the gardens that normally brought me so much joy did not inspire any reaction from me, something that Mother picked up on immediately, as she squeezed my hand. Eventually, our walk around the gardens ended as we stopped at a bench to take a little rest.
"Are you excited about the tourney, Margaery?" Mother asked. "It'll be your first time seeing the jousts!"
This didn't inspire any excitement in me, if anything, it only reminded me about Willas's fate, and caused me to unconsciously flinch.
Mother looked hesitantly at me, stripped of my normal joy, and paused in her speech to reassess the situation. Eventually, she turned to me, and gave me a gentle, almost comforting look as she continued.
"You have been awfully quiet about the tournament, sweetling, and it is somewhat unlike you. Is there anything I can do to help?" Mother asked, causing me to feel even worse. I was supposed to be subtle about it; how could I burden my busy Lady Mother with something as small as this?
"Mother, I-"
I paused, not sure what to say. Alerie Tyrell wasn't the smartest Tyrell out of all of them, but she was no fool. She was also my mother as well, which definitely counted for something. I knew that I could always confide in my mother without any judgement, and that she loved me deeply, but if I just flat out explained my worry for Willas, and word got out to him, that might demoralize my older brother or make me sound like a madwoman. Maybe I could deflect my current worry by talking about another worry on my mind.
"I was thinking - about the Northern tales I've been reading lately, you see?" I began.
Mother nodded along. It was very common knowledge amongst Highgarden that I was a child that loved reading and learning, but particularly anything I could get my hands on about the North.
"I love learning about the snow, because we don't get any, and the tales of Winterfell and House Stark, the Wall, and the North! By the Seven, they're so fascinating. But-"
"But-?" Mother questioned, hesitantly.
Checkmate.
I looked at her quietly and vulnerably, my brown eyes pooling with tears.
"Mother, Winterfell is so far away, and I want to learn more! But with this tourney, and everyone talking about knights, and the Martells, and being Queen on the Iron Throne, I'm not sure I'll be able to." A single tear dripped down my cheek. "And I know that the Maiden says that we shouldn't be greedy, and that I have a duty as a lady, but if I become a Queen-" I rambled, fat tears rolling down my best and messing up my look, as my stress found an outlet and released itself into tears.
"Oh sweetling, come here," Mother whispered softly, taking me into her arms as I cried quietly into her shoulder. I really didn't mean to actually cry here, but all of the stress of the tourney, the old fears of marriage, and the newer fears of my game plan not going along well seemed to have unlocked something deep in my heart. Mother was fiercely protective of all of her children, and underneath her ladylike disposition was a mother who would do absolutely anything and everything to keep her children safe and happy.
Eventually, my tears slowed and I stared blurrily at the garden as I wiped my tears. The sun had begun to set, giving the gardens a radiance to them, as the orange skies indicated that I had spent a longer time crying than I had liked. How long had it been?
Mother gave me a warm smile, kissing my forehead and then affixed her gentle gaze on me, before starting to speak.
"You know that your Father and I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to. I know your father and brothers jape to you about being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but I wasn't aware that you felt so strongly against this notion," Mother said quietly. "We will not force you to do anything you do not want to do, for you are our precious and beloved little rose of Highgarden, and there is nowhere in the realm, that would stop your father and your brothers from rescuing you, if you were in an unhappy situation. Do you understand?"
I nodded, hesitantly.
"Yet, nothing is set in stone, my sweetling," Mother continued gently, holding me in her arms. "Why, you are a young lady of only six namedays, and here you are, worrying about your marriage prospects! There is plenty of time for you, my sweetling. If you'd like to learn more about the North, of course you can learn more about the North. If you want to stay here in the Reach, of course your Lord Father and I do not mind. You have many options, and I don't want you to feel trapped."
Mother kissed my cheek, showering me in affection that caused me to smile, and looked at me mischievously.
Can I tell you a secret, sweetling? Just between mother and daughter?" She asked, humor filling her voice.
I moved out of the hug, comforted, and nodded emphatically at Mother.
"Ladies in our position, your grandmother, you, and I, we make the best of what we have behind the scenes", she explained. "Oh yes, the men will talk and command, but we find our ways to get what we want in the end. Your father, and I, for instance."
Mother smiled at me, before continuing impishly.
"Did you know, little Rose, that your father and I were not originally betrothed, and that he, in fact, was betrothed to your aunt Malora?" Mother asked, causing me to look at her with a gobsmacked expression.
Oh! That made so much more sense than in canon, with the age difference between Father and Mother. Mother wasn't my grandfather's oldest child, as his second daughter and third child, behind Uncle Balor and Aunt Malora, and a betrothal to the Heir of Highgarden was an honor usually reserved for an oldest daughter, if they were of age to one another. Father and Aunt Malora were actually the same age, with Aunt Malora older by a moon or two, while Mother was a year younger than Father. I had always wondered what had caused that, but never gave it much thought.
She laughed at my face, and smoothed my hair as she continued.
"Yes, sweetling, your aunt Malora and your father! What a shame it was, for she had no desire to be married, preferring to read in her tower. I, however, was inconsolable! For her to be married to the handsome lord of the Reach, and not even want it, and for me to waste my day away, married to a second or third son in a dreary keep somewhere. But I knew I wanted to marry your father, and I knew your aunt did not want to spend her time with a husband, so we plotted and plotted, as sisters often do." Mother smiled, her eyes lost in humor and nostalgia of a time long past.
"Eventually, though, we decided on a plan. I would charm your father, and take your aunt's place as Lady Tyrell, and she, free to read her books and learn as much as she wanted, as a maid. We were both happy with the arrangement, even as different in personality as we were, and I think your Aunt Malora took more joy from the thought of being unwed than my own thoughts of being Lady Paramount to the Reach," Mother finished sardonically.
I looked quizzically at her. Even I knew something didn't add up. That sort of betrothal switching simply just wasn't done in Westeros, and would have led to scandal either way.
"But Mother, how would that work? Wouldn't Grandfather have been furious?" I asked her, curiously?
Mother nodded, confirming my suspicion.
"It was decided that I would spend time with your father after your aunt 'conveniently disappeared', off to read an interesting tale, and I, there at the right moments. A picnic, suddenly interrputed with an emergency, and a far more charming replacement. A chaperoned walk around the gardens, with myself walking alongside your Father, and Aunt Malora, and your Aunt discreetly leaving the gardens, as I charmed your father. Soon enough, your Father and I fell in love. It was magic, between the two of us, and it was easy for me to fall for your very loveable father, but the betrothal still stood between your father, and your aunt, and I knew your aunt and I had to take drastic action eventually, to ensure we ended up with the fates that we wanted. So one day, we arranged for an event, which your grandfather eventually found out about, once your father-" Mother resumed speaking, until she suddenly stopped.
Mother's face suddenly paled, before a pale pink blush covered her cheek.
"Well, anyways..."
I looked at her reaction, and was certainly no fool; a scandal did happen, and if it did, it was hushed up, which was why Mother's reaction, even now, was so palpable at least 20 years to this day. Now, what sort of option could have caused Mother to react like that? I thought about the possibilities briefly, until I settled on one very likely outcome. Grandfather, or another adult closely involved with the betrothal must have caught Father and Mother in bed together before the marriage ceremony, something that no mother would ever tell their six year old child. Why that, though?
it would have been the only option conceivably strong enough for Grandfather to even consider changing the terms of the betrothal, especially with the scandalous nature of the tryst, and the usually firm conditions of a betrothal. It wouldn't do, after all, for the wrong daughter of House Hightower to be deflowered, yet still involved an easy Hightower-Tyrell betrothal with a palatable outcome. What would Grandfather Hightower care for, if one daughter of his replaced another in successfully seducing the Heir to Highgarden? At the same time though, how wroth would he have been with Malora, for failing in her assigned duty? What sort of rumors must have flown around the Reach, when suitors realized that Aunt Malora's did not want to marry? I understood now why Aunt Malora was known as the "Mad Maid", and I felt horrible because of it. It wasn't fair to her and Mother that they had to do all of this sneaking around, and her Aunt Malora's reputation to be sunk like that, but it was what it was, and long past since.
Interestingly enough, this seemed to parallel Grandmother and Grandfather, which answered quite a few questions for me. Grandmother has always been a little distant around Mother, or, in better terms, more likely to snap and yell at Mother, despite Mother's constant overtures of friendliness towards her good-daughter. This has gotten better with age and time, but if Mother really did seduce Father in the same way Grandmother seduced Grandfather, of course she would act with some distaste towards her good-daughter, given how protective she would be, already, of her "oafish" son. Mother would therefore be a threat, and Grandmother would have likely thought Mother was planning on manipulate Father onto some nefarious scheme or another.
Yet, this distaste has lessened each and every year, something I could see even in my limited six years in this world. Grandmother has been notably less chilly towards her good-daughter as the years have gone by, and even now, grandmother's grumblings of "I'm not your mother!" has become more of an inside joke between the two now. It was funny how history repeated itself, sometimes.
"Your grandfather found out one day, and was furious, changing the betrothal, but the die had already been cast. Your aunt Malora and I made our choices, and both of us are happier because of it. She wanted a peaceful life reading and learning, and I wanted life as a Lady of Highgarden with the man I love, and we took our own fates into our hands and made the best of our situation."
"So you see, sweetling, even within our position, we women can decide from behind the scenes as well. Your grandmother took her fate into her own hands, and I know, sweetling, that one day, you will be able to choose your own fate", Mother comforted. "I know you are a very wise young lady, but you will never face this alone. Do not hold the world on your shoulders, my love."
I did the only reasonable thing I could do in this situation. I hugged her again, as tightly as any young child would hug their mother.
Mother was right. If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed to take my fate into my own hands. I wasn't really alone, either, and I knew what I wanted to do; I just needed to take that first leap and execute my plan. Eventually, I mustered the courage to speak the words in my heart.
"So if I wanted to learn more about the North or go to Winterfell, you would help, Mother?" I asked, hesitantly.
"I'd love to write a penpal about the North, and all the better if it were a nice highborn lady or, uhm, a highborn, uh-" I rambled, my nerves choking the execution of my words.
I blushed lightly, thinking about Robb Stark, to sell the effect even further. Thank the Seven I was attracted to men, or this marriage plan and "inserting as a girl" would be a lot harder.
My mother's eyes brightened, obviously thinking about marriage prospects. Alerie Tyrell, though a doting mother, was still a canny player of the Game of Thrones. and the son of a Lord Paramount was a perfectly respectable match that would make her daughter happy.
Particularly as her daughter had noted that she did not want to be Queen, and loved the North, she naturally followed the breadcrumbs to their natural endpoint, and was satisfied with it.
"Oh, my little rose, that's a wonderful idea! I'll talk to your father later and arrange for some letters to be exchanged. The Starks have a son your age - the heir of Winterfell, a perfectly respectable person to exchange letters with, and I'm sure with his Tully mother, she'd be willing to do so…" Mother rambled enthusiastically. "Now come, sweetling, let us forget this business and eat some cheesecake from the kitchen to forget about this mess. Your grandmother and Willas can join us as well!"
I grinned, taking her hand as we walked towards the kitchens. If mother and I worked together, we would convince Father and Grandmother, and cast the die in my favor.
I was already thinking about what I would write to Robb in his first letter. Would signing my name off as "The Future Margaery Stark" be too soon?
