The day was here. Joffrey and Margaery would be married. Before the wedding, Joffrey and Margaery were hosting a breakfast. Mace had traveled from Highgarden to see his eldest daughter married. "From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup," he said, setting down the giant golden cup. "May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."
Joffrey smiled, nodding. "A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?"
"I shall be honored, Your Grace."
Mace bowed before he returned to his seat beside Dyana. The youngest Tyrell rolled her eyes, fiddling with the flowers on her stolen necklace. "You didn't get me a wedding gift when I married Renly," she stated quietly, hoping that Tyrion beside her could not hear.
Mace barely looked at her. "Renly was a traitor."
"You didn't seem to care about that when you let me wed him," Dyana pointed out.
"I- - I was only doing what was best."
"It was in our best interests for me to wed a traitor?"
Mace did not answer.
A squire stepped up to the table, setting down a rather large book. Tyrion stepped forward to present his gift to Joffrey. "A book?" the king asked.
"'The Lives of Four Kings.' Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read," Tyrion said.
Joffrey sighed, rolling his green eyes. Tywin and Cersei gave him a pointed look, and he spoke. "Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle."
Dyana couldn't help but think that Joffrey almost sounded sincere. But only almost.
Tyrion bowed, returning to his seat.
A Lannister soldier stepped forward, laying a sword before the king. Tywin rose from his chair. "One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honor," he said.
Joffrey grinned, standing and hurrying to pick up the sword. Dyana instinctively pulled her chair back from the table; she did not trust the young king with such a weapon.
He drew the sword, and excited gasps sounded around him. He tested the weight of the blade in his hands, swinging it excitedly. "Careful, Your Grace. Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel," Maester Pycelle noted.
"So they say," Joffrey replied.
He spun around, letting out a cry as he sliced Tyrion's book in two. He did not stop hacking until bits of paper were falling on the guests like fresh snow. Sansa and Tyrion watched with horrified faces, and Dyana was suddenly rigid in her chair.
Joffrey looked pointedly at Tyrion before he turned to address the people. "Such a great sword should have a name," he proclaimed. "What should I call her?'
"Stormbringer," a man offered.
"Terminus."
"Widow's Wail."
"Stannis Slayer," Dyana joked under her breath, receiving an angered look from her father.
"Wolfsbane."
"Widow's Wail," Joffrey smiled, chuckling. "I like that. Every time I use it, it'll be like cutting off Ned Stark's head all over again."
Dyana had not been there to see Ned Stark beheaded, but she was quite sure that it would have been Ilyn Payne who killed him, not Joffrey. She did not say a word, however.
Joffrey sheathed Widow's Wail, returning to his seat. Mace smiled at him as he sat.
When the breakfast was over, Dyana dressed for the wedding. She did not wear the necklace she'd taken, instead she wore one that Olenna had chosen. This necklace, she had to admit, was much nicer than her stolen one. It was silver, with a gold, circular pendant with a carefully crafted Tyrell rose at the center. At each corner, a bright sapphire was set. Olenna said that the gemstone matched Dyana's eyes.
Her dress was styled to mimic that of Cersei's, instead of her usual revealing dressed. All eyes were meant to be on Margaery, not Dyana, so the more fabric, the better. It was a pastel purple, with royal purple velvet inside of the long bell sleeves. While Cersei typically wore iron belts that mimicked armor, Dyana's dress had a silver belt with roses and thorns all around. She did not style her hair in it's usual way, instead she chose to let it fall freely over her shoulders.
She looked beautiful, and she was going to make sure that everyone knew it.
Inside the sept, everyone was quiet. They watched Margaery be led up to Joffrey with awe. Mace bowed before Joffrey, smiling at him before joining the crowd.
Joffrey took Margaery by the arm, and they turned to the High Septon, walking up the steps. Margaery turned, allowing Joffrey to cloak her in the Lannister colors.
The High Septon bound their hands together. "Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."
Joffrey turned to the crowd. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," he declared.
He took Margaery's face in his hands, kissing her. Dyana fought the urge to gag, instead clapping along with the rest of the crowd. When Joffrey and Margaery stepped away, they smiled at the crowd, who, in turn, grinned at them.
But Dyana saw Olenna's smile fade. The Tyrell girl had never seen her grandmother look like this before, but she knew that it meant something was coming. And whether or not that something was good or bad, she was going to have to wait to find out.