Chapter Five: Motherless Monster

King's Landing was a splendid palace, but Lady Margaery Tyrell didn't care for the rooms that Queen Cersei had decorated. They were too lush, too opulent . . . too Cersei!

Margaery liked the rooms that old King Robert Baratheon had enjoyed. Her favorite was the billiards room high in the north tower. It was cool and airy even on the hottest afternoon, and you could see the whole city. The furnishings were sparse, very male yet very comfortable. There were swords and shields hung on the bare white walls, and deep leather couches and reclining chairs tucked in the corners, and of course, in the very center of the room, a fine old billiards table with the wooden frame all polished and the felt of the table top a lush emerald green.

Margaery adored billiards, even though it was a vulgar pastime and quite new to Westeros. She was just lining up a complicated practice shot with her cue in her hand when her elderly grandmother came wheezing up the tower stairs.

"Margaery, dearest, you won't believe it!" Olenna Tyrell's wrinkled face was beaming, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Hush, grandmother," Margaery whispered, with a secretive smile, laying a slender finger across her ruby lips.

"Oh, yes." The old woman glanced briefly at the young man lying face-down on the nearby couch. "Margaery, dear, you've got to hear this," she continued, in a lower voice. "The Stark family received the package you sent, with the head of that miserable woman Cersei inside. They say they want to negotiate a peace treaty!"

"Excellent," Margaery replied, in a tone of cool satisfaction. "Let's hope that when the Greyjoy family receives the other gift I'm sending out they'll want to make peace as well."

"But how can you make an alliance with the Starks and the Iron Islands at the same time?" Her grandmother asked, worry written plainly on her kindly, wrinkled features. "Both great houses seek control of the North. How can you convince that fierce old Greyjoy and his wild daughter that we're sincere in our offer of friendship?"

"King Geoffrey will win them over," Margaery assured her kinswoman. She was leaning gracefully over the table, preparing her next billiards shot.

"He will?" Olenna Tyrell surveyed the sleeping boy, her expression doubtful.

"Geoffrey will play his part perfectly." There was a sudden, sharp crack as Margaery made her shot, sending balls rocketing in all directions. Each one found its true course, sinking at once into the proper pocket.

"You mean you're sending that wretched boy to negotiate with the Greyjoy family? Geoffrey's no match for them. He's weak and spoiled, not to mention stupid and cruel. Down in Flea Bottom they call him the Motherless Monster!"

"I know what they call him." Margaery put up her cue, giving the worried old woman a playful punch on the shoulder. "Please don't worry, grandmother. Geoffrey's cruel spells are much better now that I've begun adding a little something to his wine."

"Ah, so that's why he's slumbering so soundly."

"The wine helps," Margaery acknowledged. "But it also takes some strenuous sports to tire him out. Things like billiards, or . . . more intimate amusements."

Olenna Tyrell raised a bushy white eyebrow. "He's manageable in bed now, too?"

Margaery shrugged. The casual gesture made her small, pert breasts nearly tumble out of her skimpy top. "I'm with child now, grandmother. Geoffrey has outlived his usefulness . . . but he's lived up to his side of the bargain. I have a male heir growing inside of me. The child will cement our claim to the throne once he's out of the way."

"And Geoffrey suspects nothing?" Olenna was impressed.

"I see to it that his nightly adventures in my bed are good and tiring. Quite exhausting, in fact. Even when he's awake he's quite easy to manage. All I have to do is look deep into his eyes, and snap my fingers. He obeys just like that!"

"Goodness, you are clever!" The old woman giggled. "But if you're sending King Geoffrey to the Iron Islands as the commander of an invasion force, or as a diplomat . . ."

"Don't be silly, grandmother. I'm sending him to the Iron Islands as a slave."