A/N: Sorry for the late update - real life got in the way! I'm hoping to publish chapters a little more regularly soon as this arc comes to an end (the wedding is next chapter) and we really start diving into the plot. There is a LOT of politicking in this chapter, and Margaery's Northern influence bites her back as House Tyrell strategize with one another and set the seeds for the future. Feel free to critique the chapter and let me know what you'd like to see in the future!
MARGAERY IX
"He'll be the handsomest, bravest golden king and I'll be by his side to bear him golden-haired sons-"
Sansa's naive joy over Joffrey would have been entertaining, or even cute, if not for the fact that he canonically is a monstrous human being...and if she wasn't twelve, and talking about bearing Joffrey sons. Still, I did what any future good-sister did and smiled and nodded indulgently at the right parts, and prepared myself to bring Sansa back down to earth.
"Sansa, maybe you should slow down a bit. Have you gotten a chance to talk to Joffrey and take a walk with him? I know Robb and I had our letters, which made the process easier, but surely, you would want to know your betrothed before you marry him?" I asked quietly, hoping to redirect her.
"The handsome golden Prince Joffrey is truly a little shit, as far as I'm concerned," Robb muttered under his breath to me, remembering the incident from the training ground the day before, where Joffrey had taunted him.
Unfortunately, Sansa and I had been doing needlework with Septa Mordane at the time, which meant that Joffrey's appalling behavior, according to Robb (and my memories of him), was not able to be displayed to Sansa.
"I haven't gotten the chance to spend time with him, yet, but that's a good idea, Margaery! I will go talk to Septa Mordane right now to see if she can act as our chaperone!" Sansa replied, brightly.
"Sansa, remember to prepare for the afternoon - we are to sup with Queen Cersei and Princess Myrcella!" I shouted as she ran out of the room in excitement.
I sighed quietly, leaning my head on my betrothed's shoulder.
"Long morning, love?" I asked quietly.
"Very." Robb answered. "Father is intent to impart every possible lesson he can on ruling Winterfell to me before he is to leave to King's Landing. I know Father will return once his era as Hand is done, yet the thought of I as Lord of Winterfell is...daunting."
I raised my head off of Robb's shoulders and kissed his cheek, both of us leaning into each other.
"You are not so unprepared as you think, my love," I responded quietly. "Lady Catelyn will still roam the halls of Winterfell, until I am settled as a Lady of Winterfell, and after a year or so, we will rule Winterfell in Lord Eddard's name until we are ready. It will be a long time yet in our own right, if the Gods are good. We will rule together, and between my cleverness, and your practicality, Winterfell will be in good hands."
Robb smiled at me, buoyed by my reassurance.
"Winterfell will be better off with you as its lady, I am sure—"
His voice rose into a teasing lilt.
"...unless you bankrupt it with your rare tome purchases." Robb finished, grinning at me as I rolled my eyes. Even so, he was rewarded with a kiss seeped in affection that broke into a comfortable silence.
Eventually, Robb sighed, breaking the moment. "I need to go. Father and I are looking over the ledgers once more."
"Lady Catelyn and I will be finalizing the wedding plans soon, so it is best that I go as well." I commiserated, not wanting to leave my betrothed. "Between Loras, the King's party, and the members of House Tyrell attending the wedding, it will be a miracle if we do not have more than ten courses of food alone."
"Thank you for joining us this afternoon, Lady Sansa and Lady Margaery!" Princess Myrcella chirped brightly.
"It is our pleasure, Princess Myrcella." Sansa responded cheerfully. "It's just such a shame my lady mother and my sister Arya couldn't join us today."
"Little dove, I had the cooks make you some lemon cakes, I have been told that they are your favorite. And for you, Lady Margaery, I have some cinnamon rolls just for you as well." Cersei replied, the picture of grace and friendliness. Both Sansa and I thanked her graciously, before sitting down
The empty-headed social niceties in this tea-time would have made my grandmother snap at the offenders, but my social courtesies automatically kicked in as I tried to analyze exactly why I had been invited for tea, and not Arya and Lady Catelyn.
Arya and Lady Catelyn not being invited to this afternoon tea was an indication of a much more worrying prospect - Arya, because she was in theory every bit as attractive of a guest for Cersei and Myrcella to host, and Lady Catelyn, because Cersei as the only adult in the room indicated some level of manipulation in the works - perhaps, playing the trusted confidant to weasel out information from a 'naive Sansa and Margaery'. Myrcella was there to learn these tactics, and also to lower our guards, and my well-honed instincts of Southron politicking, which is why I had to keep my guard up, and play the game set out for me. With that thought, I arranged my features into a smile as genuine as I could make, and widened my eyes, emphasizing the innocence of a fourteen year old maiden.
The four of us spent a bit of time starting on our favored desserts, before we dived into conversation.
"Lady Margaery, what is life like in the Reach?" Myrcella asked curiously. "Are there a lot of knights?"
"In my humble opinion, the Reach is the most beautiful place in the Seven Kingdoms - it is the center of chivalry and music in the Seven Kingdoms, and Highgarden is breath-taking to behold. There aren't as many knights as there are in the Vale, but I think that our knights can compete with any of them, though that may be because my brothers are knights. Of course, Princess Myrcella, you probably already know my brother, Loras, the Knight of Flowers." I ended, somewhat sheepishly.
Myrcella looked starry-eyed, and Sansa giggled as I described my home with a flourish and perceived innocence of a child raised in Highgarden. Cersei had a more calculated look at my embellished response, but she hid it while sipping delicately at her tea.
"Lady Margaery, tell me more about your brothers. They must be very accomplished indeed, to be knighted so young." Cersei asked.
"Both Garlan and Loras have always wanted to be knights since they were young - they both loved to spar in the tiltyard, and have had every bit of Highgarden chivalry and skill impressed onto them. Of course, Loras was a squire of Lord Renly, and they are still dear friends now. Garlan is heir to Highgarden, now that Willas is Prince Consort to Princess Arianne, and I am certain that he will be a great lord of Highgarden one day, both martially and politically."
"I remember Loras." Myrcella said, thoughtfully. "He handed me a rose at the end of our last tourney." A blush rose upon her pretty face at the thought of my handsome brother, golden hair contrasting beautifully to make her as cherubic as possible.
"Ser Loras is very gallant - I've heard nothing but good things about him from the servants since he has arrived to Winterfell. If Ser Garlan is anything like Ser Loras or Lady Margaery, he must be a great knight indeed." Sansa chimed in happily. I gave her a grateful look in response.
"And Ser Garlan is not yet betrothed? He must be so lonely, waiting for a beautiful maiden," Cersei slipped in.
Ah, there we go. Cersei's game was apparent to me at this point. Either Cersei or Tywin wanted Garlan betrothed to Myrcella, and Myrcella as a future Lady Paramount of the Reach.
"Of course, all noble knights strive for a lady who hands them their favor, and Garlan is the best of them all," I responded, arranging my face in an innocent smile.
My political instincts, honed by years at the knee of the Queen of Thorns, kicked in, as I considered the consequences of the betrothal.
It was clear that Cersei did not feel as though her dynasty was secure enough with just Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey - she wanted to ensure that House Tyrell was tied to House Baratheon securely. I suppose my betrothal to Robb made House Tyrell much less of a threat than in canon, which is why House Lannister was even comfortable enough to suggest this betrothal, and Tywin or Cersei wanted to ensure that Myrcella had the power and luxuries of the future Lady Paramount of the Reach.
This left me at a bit of a quandary. Knowing what I knew about Myrcella and Joffrey, the hypothetical betrothal was assuredly temporary in nature, even if Father and Grandmother would accept instantly, to connect House Tyrell with royalty, and so Garlan would be free to pursue a more political match while holding Myrcella as a hostage, similar to Sansa in canon, if a war broke out. Myrcella was also very young, meaning we had plenty of time to stall for a better match if things went wrong.
On the other hand, the betrothal may be inconvenient if it is not ended at an appropriate moment, and even worse, the human aspect of it. Garlan was not pleased when his betrothal to Leonette was denied by Father, and if honorable, gallant Garlan fell for Myrcella or felt shame enough to stop him from doing his duty, we could be stuck with a bad hand, or….or the Key to the West , if House Tyrell played its cards right!
If House Tyrell warred against House Lannister, which would almost assuredly be the case as long as I was married to Robb, House Lannister would be wiped very quickly in the war, and Myrcella's legitimized claim as Jaime and Cersei's daughter meant that it would be easy to prop up her claim as fourth in line, before Kevan Lannister's children.
It would be better to place a Tyrell-approved figurehead in the West, which would be Garlan's second son with Lady Myrcella, in this case, but only if Myrcella was fostered in Highgarden before the start of the war. Not only that, either Garlan or a branch member of House Tyrell could secure the West by marrying Myrcella, and if Garlan wished to break the betrothal, he still could get his political match as well as the Key to The West.
If Myrcella was not fostered in Highgarden before an impending war, we had cause to easily break the betrothal, and we would essentially be no worse off than we began, with the added political capital of an attractive marriage to sway the winning king to our side. Sneaky, and insidious, but a move easily made, with only the cost of a little girl's safety, because she had the wrong name.
The human side of me felt revolted at the thought of using a little girl's claim in this way, but House Tyrell was going to win the Game of Thrones and survive the Long Night, damnit, and giving claim as a Lady of Highgarden to a daughter of traitors was still a much better and much more attractive fate than Myrcella's presumed fate in canon.
With that thought finished, I smoothly inserted myself back into the conversation, and proceeded to do my best to prop up Garlan to Cersei and Myrcella. Cersei looked excited at the prospect, smoothly manipulating Sansa and Myrcella into believing in the beautiful dream of an united Westeros. I made sure to interject here and there, to give Sansa time to really think about the implications of Cersei's statements, and kept the conversation light and minimal to create the facade that I was buying Cersei's friendliness and was unaware of her scheme. All was going well, until….
"Lady Margaery, I must confess I was surprised to hear that you had been betrothed to Robb Stark - why, all of the rumors in Court had indicated a more ambitious betrothal planned, until they had suddenly stopped." Cersei noted.
"I was very happy to be betrothed to Robb - I had always been so fascinated with the North, you see? Robb and I communicated by letters, and slowly built our friendship, becoming more and more comfortable with one another until one day, when I woke up and realized that there was no other Lord Husband I wanted in my future but him. Evidently, he must have thought the same about his Lady Wife, and so Father was happy to arrange the betrothal. Every day has been a blessing - I can't help but think every day that it was destiny when the Crone had guided our hearts together," I gushed. A bit of embellishment here and there, but a mostly accurate depiction of our process, I'd say.
"And you love him, Lady Margaery?" Cersei asked.
"As surely as the sun rises in the east, and sets in the west", I answered, half-truthfully, and half-vapidly, in order to sell the act. "We trust each other, and I know Robb and I will rule Winterfell together, when the time comes. Nothing is better than the thought of spending my life with the man I love."
Myrcella made an un-ladylike squeal, her young mind lost in the romance of it all.
"I just hope that my betrothal to Prince Joffrey is every bit as romantic and passionate as my brother and Margaery's! We are so blessed to welcome her into House Stark, and I know they will make Winterfell a comfortable hearth and home for their family in the future." Sansa added dreamily.
Myrcella's joy smothered itself into a bit of a grimace at Sansa's words, but Cersei's look, however, was the exact sort of condescending look that she would give to Lady Catelyn when Lady Catelyn could not see her, or in dealing with the North - I had evidently succeeded her into thinking I was an empty headed chit, which seemed to annoy her in some way.
"Ladies, do not love your men too much. They are bound to disappoint you, no matter how well-raised they are, for they are only mere men." Cersei stated. "Now, I believe tea-time is over."
With those words, Queen Cersei bunched up her gown in her hand and proceeded to walk out of the room.
After dinner, Robb had decided he would like to take an early rest, as his dreams have been more and more concerning of late, and the rest of House Stark was busy at the dining hall for another long feast and dancing. This gave Loras, who had joined the King's delegation sans Renly (who was needed in King's Landing), the perfect opportunity to corner me in the Library, where I did some reading by candlelight.
"Brother!" I smiled at him, sweeping him into a warm hug. "What brings you to my humble abode?"
Loras rolled his eyes, used to my antics and strange wording by now, and tightly hugged me back.
"I'm still convinced you will need to make some special Myrish eyes, with all of the reading that you do, sweet sister. You're not planning to run away to the Citadel now, are you?" Loras teased me cheerfully.
"Of course not, dear brother, how else will I-" I started, but Loras's expression suddenly changing from teasing to serious halted my speech.
"The green hand guides-" Loras started, before I covered his mouth quickly.
"Not here, idiot!" I hissed, as I closed my book immediately and grabbed Loras's arm. " Come!"
We walked quickly to my personal rooms, and I searched carefully around the room to ensure we would not be interrupted. Once the door was closed and tightly shut, we sat at my bedside. I nodded at Loras, and he prompted him to start.
"The green hand guides the garden, and the rosebushes are plentiful." Loras stated mechanically.
"The fields have been trimmed, the earth is flat, and the gardens are growing strong." I finished, quickly. "Now, what on earth is going on for you to interrupt my private reading? Honestly, it's as though you've forgotten all sense by saying those words in public!" I chastised.
House Tyrell, as with any half-intelligent Southron house, had a series of code phrases to be used with confidential information spoken in person, in order to ensure that the words were truly correct and that spies would not be able to hear. Jasmine Tyrell, mother of the infant lord Lyonel Tyrell, during the Dance of the Dragons, wanted to ensure that House Tyrell was able to convey information purposefully to one another and to avoid internal disputes.
The code itself could be modified to convey the exact situation - for instance, if Loras had stated that "The green hand is guided by the garden," I would have instantly known that Loras had been pressured by another party to speak, and and if a certain finger had been specified, I would have immediately have known that it was internal, and who was pressuring Loras.
In the same vein, if I had said "the earth is hilly", Loras would know that the location was not stable, and that we should be expected to change locations quickly, or if I had said "the fields are aplenty", Loras would know that spies were still about. This would allow us to distinguish the real conversations from the fake conversations, and unfortunately for me, Loras had just insinuated a very real conversation coming right up.
"Word from Grandmother," Loras stated gravely. "The False Stag is to be devoured by Lions, and the Wolf's throat exposed. Dragons bask in the sunlight in a field of Roses, and awaits a Golden Rose to adorn it."
Oh no no no, not now. I knew Grandmother and Father were planning something, but evidently Willas and Arianne have thrown away the natural resentment between House Tyrell and Martell and actually found the remnants of House Targaryen in Essos. Of course they would be plotting a Targaryen restoration - even after Robert's Rebellion, Dorne and the Reach had never felt comfortable in their position under the Baratheon dynasty, and with it so weak and exposed, of course now would be the perfect time to place a dragon on the throne. I almost didn't want to ask what Loras meant by the next sentence, but I forged on anyway, knowing that there was no good here.
"Will the Rose be crowned by the dragon?"
"Grandmother says that the Rose should ensnare the prodigal Sun's son instead of the wolf, and that arrangements could be made."
"You mean, they found Rhaegar's s-"
"Yes."
My worst fears were confirmed in this sentence - evidently, Father and possibly Grandmother's stupid overreach into crowning House Tyrell meant that either Dorne had found the Pisswater Prince and are attempting to crown him, or Quentyn's new bride will be a woman with three dragons. Based on Loras's response though, the former had happened, and the thought of a Tyrell queen was still extremely enticing to Father and Grandmother, to a half-Sun, half-Dragon king.
In the first few years of my rebirth, I had toyed very strongly with the idea of marrying Aegon VI, whether he was a Blackfyre or a Targaryen. Aegon VI, on paper, would have provided legitimacy, would have been an easy route to Queendom, and assuming he had dragon's blood, would at least be able to claim one dragon, that is, if he wasn't burnt to a crisp by Daenery's other two dragons. Daenerys Targaryen was the single most dangerous player in the game of thrones I knew for House Tyrell, almost wholly because any sort of attempt for a claim would lead to death by dragon fire by the "Rightful Queen" of the Seven Kingdoms. The only way Aegon VI would possibly win the game is with Daenerys Targaryen as his Queen, which meant that Margaery Targaryen, or Margaery Blackfyre, would surely result in death by dragonfire. I would not be able to hire an assassin, and so Daenerys's chances of getting her dragons were too high already.
Robb was the safer choice for one reason: I could either be Lady Paramount of the North or Queen of the North. If Daenerys was unusually merciful and didn't care about the North, it would be easy to be a Queen of an allied nation, assuming Robb was crowned King, but with any sensible self-insert, I knew when it was time to play the Game, and when it was time to fold my fucking cards. Being Lady of Winterfell would not only mean House Stark surviving the Game of Thrones, but that I would be relatively safe and happy in the process.
Seven, going against Daenerys would only lead to death and dissolution of House Tyrell, which is why my blood turned to ice and my rage grew, not unlike that of my future good-family. I was not about to die by dragon fire because of stupid ambition, and if there was anyone meant to be crowned queen, it would be my daughter, not I, in a much more stable Westeros, which is why my anger coalesed into the words I was about to say next.
"House Tyrell wants me to break my betrothal to Robb Stark to betroth some dragon without a claim or a dragon? At this rate, Highgarden will be up to our ears in Florents and we'll be buried in some unmarked grave with all this reckless planning! If you wanted me to marry a fucking dragon I can send for one right here-" I hissed, incandescent, before suddenly realizing what I had slipped and covering my mouth guiltily. That wasn't my secret to tell.
"Reckless planning? A dragon in Winterfell? But I-" Loras stated.
"Loras, you shan't tell Grandmother, it isn't my secret to tell!" I whispered desperately. "But yes, this is the stupidest move House Tyrell has made yet, I'm not about to betroth some unknown variable to gain a crown, that will likely be removed from my head when it falls off my shoulders, at that, in order for Father to feel as though he is a king? Absolutely not!"
Apparently, my time in Winterfell has changed me - had I been in Highgarden, I would never had stated my mind so clearly, and would have deflected until it suited me. Now, my directness and bluntness was somewhere in between the politicking Reachwoman and your average Northerner.
Loras looked at me, clarity filling his eyes.
"You know something we don't." Loras stated quietly.
"No, I-"
"Something important. Something that caused you to betroth yourself to Robb Stark all those years ago. And you haven't told Grandmother either, or else she would know." Loras finished knowingly.
Goddamnit, Loras, this is the wrong time to be the perceptive almost-twin. I can't believe I slipped up this badly.
"I- no- yes- no- ugh!" I responded incomprehensibly.
"I can't tell you Loras - it's too dangerous-" I began, "-but you can send a raven to grandmother to continue the original plan. It is the safest option now, and I will elope with Robb if anything goes differently.."I finished, to Loras's infuriating smirk
"-don't think I won't!" I snapped fiercely as he looked close to laughter.
"For what it's worth, I don't like it either." Loras said quietly. "I'm going to try to convince Renly to side with the Dragons, but if not, expect me to side with him until he dies."
I nodded, embracing my brother quietly.
"We aren't following their plans," I whispered into his ear, "but that doesn't mean we can't help. Tell Father to betroth Garlan to Princess Myrcella."
Loras squeezed my hand in reply, affirming my statement. We held onto one another quietly, letting this moment soak over us. After awhile, I disentangled myself from my brother.
"I'm going to read some more tonight. Don't wait up, dear brother." I smirked, mimicking the common refrain my younger self would tell my brothers after they annoyed me one too many times. This caused Loras to laugh uncontrollably, easing the tense mood and returning things to normal.
"It's good to spend time with you, Marge." Loras said fondly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to my rooms now so you can have your wonderful dreams of your wolf husband. Don't wait up, sweet sister."
Ending A/N: This is what happens when Margaery spends too much time with the Mormonts, I guess. Oh well, onto the Robbaery wedding!
