Margaery I
Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden, sat at the table waiting to break fast with her family. It had been an eventful few days on the eve of the Great Council and her family needed to make a final plan on who to back for the Iron Throne. When she was a little girl, she dreamed of become Queen, but as she got older she realized that was all it was, a dream. Her father still talked about it, but her father had never been the smartest person, a kind, wonderful father, but never the brightest. Fortunately, it seemed her brother Willas, heir to Highgarden, had not inherited their father's intellect. Margaery didn't think the family could survive two generations of dullards.
Before long, Olenna Tyrell, Margaery's grandmother and the real head of House Tyrell, came hobbling in on a cane, gathered a plate of food, and sat before looking at anyone. "Mother," Mace Tyrell, Margaery's father and Olenna's son, said with some frustration, "why am I being told I am meeting with Lord Stark this afternoon. We agreed that-." "No Mace, you agreed to your brilliant plan to 'remain neutral.' A plan that will only ensure that no matter who rules the realm, House Tyrell will continue to be a pariah."
"Well then, mother, what would you have us do," Margaery watched her father as if he was a petulant child and cringed at what the response would be. "I think we should back Renly," Loras, her brother chimed in. Everyone at the table turned to face the Flower Knight, except Grandmother, Margaery noted. Loras has been Renly's squire. And more. "Ha! My dear boy, that is, quite possibly, the only idea worse than your father's," Olenna responded as she took another bite for fruit. "Why? Renly would be a magnificent King. Margaery could marry him and-" "Margaery will not be marrying a man who has a worse claim than all the rest. In order for Renly to be King, Stannis, and Stannis's two sons and the Princess would have to suddenly disappear. Renly Baratheon, Castellan of Dragonstone, will be lucky if he has any titles left by the time this is over." Olenna didn't suffer fools, Margaery remembered, not even from a grandson.
"Mother, you've been very good at telling us what we shouldn't do," Mace said, "You still haven't given us an alternative." "The Princess, I believe, or rather, the Starks," Willas said from his position to the right of Mace. Margaery swore she saw a smile form on her Grandmother's face. Margaery, of course, knew what Olenna's plan was. She had been sent on a mission to learn about the Stark's first hand, to see if Olenna's plan was feasible. For Willas to put it together, well, it just reaffirmed Margaery's earlier opinion.
Unfortunately, Mace still didn't see it. "She is a young girl and they're savages." Olenna didn't see phased at all. "She is a young girl who has the support of four kingdoms and the Starks are an old family with the loyalty of their people. They have the loyalty of many people, most of the support for Princess Lyanna comes through the ties to the Starks. But, perhaps Margaery could tell us more. She spent some time with them last night," Olenna turned to her. Margaery blushed slightly.
Margaery remembered the events of last night quite vividly. The feast had been a fairly normal, dancing, food, music. She had approached Sansa Stark, who had immediately become a entranced by Margaery's Southron ways. She learned all she could from Sansa before using her to meet Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Everyone, it seemed, looked on the Starks as honorable people. Margaery was especially touched by the Princess's description of the North. It seemed charming in a certain kind of way, she never heard that description from any Southron. It made her want to visit and see for herself. She also liked the description of Robb Stark.
She had seen him earlier during the feast and, if she was being honest with herself, he was quite handsome. If Rhaenys's description of his honor was half true, Robb Stark would be a prize catch for any young maiden. She was on her way over to him when things took a turn.
It started when Tybolt Lannister, the son of Jaime Lannister, confronted her and wouldn't let her go. "Hello Margaery," he said stepping directly in her way. "Hello Tybolt," she replied with a smile. They had been introduced when they were younger. Rumors had flown about a possible betrothal, but it came to nothing. Last she heard, he was betrothed to a Westerling. "How are you," Tybolt asked stepping in front of her as she tried to go around. "Quite well, but if you will excuse me," Margaery had replied as she took a step to get around him, only he moved to block her. "And what if I won't, my cousin is going to be King and my grandfather Hand. So what if I won't excuse you," Tybolt said. He had a smile on his face, but no warmth behind it. Margaery's glance drifted to Robb and she say his eyes catch hers. He was sitting at a table with a cousin and other Northmen, sipping from a goblet but she could see him begin to focus his ice blue eyes on her as if he was a wolf and she was his prey. She didn't seem frightened though. "Well," Tybolt said as he moved even closer to her, grabbing her arm. Margaery could see Robb get up from his table after whispering something to his relative who nodded in return after looking toward Margaery. She watched as Robb came closer and closer to her. "I'm still waiting, Margaery. How you would like to entertain me," Tybolt asked in her ear, still not realizing Robb Stark was walking up behind him. "Please, Tybolt. You're hurting me." Her last sentence was loud enough to be heard by Robb who quietly nodded at her before bumping into Tybolt, spilling his wine on him.
As a result of the sudden introduction of red wine onto Tybolt's fine red and gold doublet, Tybolt released Margaery and turned around to see who had done that. "Who did that," he screamed. Robb smiled for a moment, "I'm very sorry my lord, I tripped over a stray board." Margaery could see the rage in Tybolt's eyes. "Damn Northern savage. Learn how to walk," Tybolt hissed as he dabbed himself with a cloth he had picked up. All the while, Robb was quietly moving to put himself between Margaery and Tybolt. "Wait a minute, you're the Stark heir, aren't you," Tybolt said finally looking at Robb. "I am Robb Stark, son of Eddard, Lord of Winterfell, yes. And who might you be," Robb replied calmly. "Ha! You're clearly as ignorant as you are clumsy. I am Tybolt Lannister, son of Jaime Lannister, grandson of Tywin Lannister and I can't wait for my Uncle to be crowned so all you Northern beasts go back to the frozen waste you call home."
Tybolt has always been arrogant, but he was clearly drunk as well and Margaery was worried for Robb. She knew Tybolt had a hot temper and learned how to fight from his father. She had seen him fight, both with the sword and fist, and knew what he could do. She could also see Robb clench his teeth. "Well Tybolt, son of Jaime, we beasts have a saying. Don't count your chickens before Winter is over," Robb replied. Tybolt just looked confused as Margaery watched him come toward her again. Robb stepped in front of her, so as to block his attempt to come closer.
"Oh, I see what's going on Stark. Do you have a little boyhood interest in our dear Margaery. Well, why don't we settle all of this right now," Tybolt said as he pushed Robb a little. Robb, to his credit, did nothing. "You and I can fight, here or outside, swords or no, and the winner's side is crowned and gets Margaery." "She is no piece of property to be won, Lannister. Your lord father must not have taught you honor and the proper treatment of a lady. Then again, I doubt a Kingslayer who lost his white cloak had any to begin with," Robb's words struck deep and Margaery could see fire behind Tybolt's green eyes.
That was when it happened, Tybolt swung a fist as Robb who quickly blocked it. Not only did he block it, in the same swift motion, he swung his own first and knocked Tybolt to the floor, leaving him with a bloody nose. Robb immediately turned to Margaery and apologized, going from wolf to lamb as he stammered. It was really quite endearing. Of course, the moment was broken as every sword in the room was drawn. At first the Tyrells didn't know who to aim their swords at, but word spread of Robb's actions and soon it was North and Reach aiming at Westerland and Stormland, everyone else caught in the middle. Robb, meanwhile, moved to Margaery behind him, using his body as a shield.
Cersei stood in an uncoiled rage, "Guards! Arrest that boy! I want him in chains!" The Northman began closing ranks, daring any Lannister to get close.
Margaery, in that moment, realized what Sansa and Rhaenys had been talking about. She could see into the eyes of the Northman, they were ready to die to protect Ned Stark's son and their future liege lord. It was more than just loyalty, it was love. Fortunately, it didn't come to that.
"My lords," an older man with a crooked nose shouted in the silence. He was flanked by Ned Stark and Edmure Tully. That must be Jon Arryn, Margaery thought to herself. "Surely a small scrap between two boys at a feast is not something worthy of bloodshed." "The boy just attacked my blood, Lord Arryn. My lord husband is the Master of Laws," Cersei shot back as Margaery could see hands tightening on swords.
"I will deal with my son, my lady. I would leave it to his father to deal with your nephew," Lord Stark said loudly. Margaery turned back to the head table where the doar Lord Stannis Baratheon was sitting. Her eyes were soon joined by everyone else's. "I have your word, Lord Stark, your boy will be appropriately dealt with," he asked. "You do, Lord Baratheon," Ned Stark replied. "Then take your boy and go, when I am King I may be less merciful," Stannis replied.
By that point Tybolt had gotten up off the floor and placed his hand on Robb's shoulder as he walked by. "This isn't over Stark," Margaery heard him whisper. Robb shooked Tybolt's hand off and whispered back. "Indeed, Lannister." As Robb stormed out of the room the swords were sheathed and the music began again, the guests resumed drinking and talking, but Margaery didn't stay.
She ran after Robb, she wanted to thank him. She found him in the Godswood, his gloved hand on the bark of a Heart Tree. I forgot they follow the Old Gods, she thought to herself as she silently watched him. It was a full moon and she could clearly see him as he knelt in front of the tree. It was something peaceful. She made up her mind to leave him be. To speak with him later, she was just backing away when she stepped on a branch. The sound echoed in the silent night and Margaery looked down cursing herself. When she looked back up, Robb was staring right at her.
"Lady Margaery?" Robb was clearly confused. She looked at herself, now covered in mud, her fine dress torn in several spots, the cool night air blowing on exposed skin. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to...to say thank you. For what you did." Margaery, normally cool and composed, suddenly found herself blushing and out of her element. She took a second, but regained her composure and hoped Robb hadn't noticed in the dark. She looked back at Robb and saw a wry smile form on his handsome face. His smile was, even in the darkness, inviting and she took another step toward him. "Are you alright," she asked standing close to him, lifting herself on her toes.
"I'm fine, my hand hurts a little," Robb replied. Margaery laughed despite herself. Robb continued, "I'm more concerned about what my father will say." "If it will help, I will tell him you were quite gallant, defending me and all." Robb looked down on her for a moment and leaned in a little closer. "My Lady, why were you coming toward me? You seemed quite determined," Robb asked gently.
"Oh, I was coming to introduce myself and see if you wished to dance," Margaery replied. "I hear you're quite able." "You've been talking to Princess Rhaenys, I see," Robb replied with a smile. "Mayhaps. Nonetheless, is it true?" Robb took a step back and held out his hand. Margaery accepted it and they danced, softly, quietly. At the end, Margaery was forced to admit Robb was a tremendous dancer. It was about then Garlan, her middle brother, appeared and escorted her away. Robb bowed, and said goodnight. It was a wonderful evening.
Margaery was brought back to the present by a cough from a smiling Garlan. "Well, young lady, what's this about spending time with the Starks," Mace asked. "I had the opportunity to spend time with Sansa Stark, Princess Rhaenys, and Robb Stark. All of them are very kind and loyal. Robb is, especially gallant, and a good dancer." Mace huffed. "He may be a good dancer, but what kind of savage strikes another man at a feast," Mace puffed even more. "Father, I know you had already left, but Robb Stark was protecting Margaery. Tybolt Lannister grabbed her and Robb, without hesitation, intervened. If he hadn't left, I would have thanked him and so should you," Garlan said.
"Which brings us back to why you are meeting with Ned Stark," Olenna interjected. "You, Mace, are going to meet with Lord Stark to thank him for his son's actions and inform him that you are in his debt and his son is an honorable fellow. You're then going to suggest an alliance between House Tyrell and House Stark, an alliance that will almost guarantee the Princess will be crowned." Margaery watched as Mace thought for a moment, then it seemed what Olenna had been hinting at had finally dawned on him. "Intriguing, of course, you always say alliances are paper are worthless. We would need a union in blood." Mace looked at Margaery who maintained her composure. I could do worse than Robb Stark, she thought to herself and suddenly she became very happy.
"Ah son, perhaps there is hope for you yet. Just don't mess up this meeting."