The Rose of Highgarden
"I want to be the queen," she told Baelish, surrounded by war tents, broken promises and false vows.
Her brother followed Renly for passion, her father for ambition. Margaery wanted to be the first among the women of the realm. She wanted all eyes to admire her, as her cousins did now.
"Ulma from the kitchens says that Joffrey opened the belly of a cat and took out the unborn kittens", Alla said nervously, with faces of disgust from the others.
"But he has the charm of Jaime Lannister, I beheld the Kingslayer once in Oldtown at Lord Hightower's joust. Raymund and Rickard were raving about his lance and his steed, and I... oh I could not tear my gaze from his smile and golden locks", her stout cousin Magga said. A fresh pastry in her grasp, and she was already twice as larger as any of them.
Elinor smiled mischievously, "Magga speaks true, all boys are naughty, but you get his lips and antler crown". Killing kittens is not a harmless mischief.
"If the negotiations bear fruit and if father accepts the offer...", if grandmother accepts the offer. She doubted her father's ability to see his mistakes, but after the fiasco with Renly's coronation, grandmother would surely not let him decide further.
"Lady Margaery. Lady Ollena requests your presence at lunch with Lord Baelish", the maid broke into her thought, though Margaery knew what was required of her.
After the stench of the military camp at Bitterbridge, it was a joy to return to Highgarden, to the fragrance of blackberries and roses. The meeting was held in a vast green maze, between the high outer walls and the wall that marked the second tier of the castle. Even now Margaery could get lost in the in the lofty paths of hedge, blossoms, vines and thorns.
"Baelish is a player, a cunning fox, listen well to how he speaks, what he says and why. Do not return anything to his words except those white teeth of yours and cheap compliments. Be a maiden, like that silly doll Alla. He will know that you wear a mask, but not what is underneath," her grandmother counselled her, while the servants laid the table with cakes, lemonade, sweetmeats and cream. The maze was the chilliest part of the castle, ever dim and cool, the dampness drove away the scent of roses and fruits, which grew from the walls of hedge.
"And if I have a question..."
"...ask it as I told you. Do not give him any slack, pretend", her grandmother interrupted her. Margaery nodded humbly.
Soon after, her father and Lord Baelish entered, "I am indeed," her father chortled, clasping his hand on Baelish's back. Willas and Garlan walked behind them, keeping a distance.
"Lord Baelish, this is my mother Ollena, and my lovely daughter Margeary, delight of the Highgarden."
"Delight of the realm," said Baelish with a soft husky voice, with obvious pleasure from her father, who cheerfully shuffled to his plush chair. Petyr Baelish stayed on his feet.
"Will you sit or we have to leave you here like a statue, wiser ones have not found their way out of these corridors," Ollena said. Baelish smiled, dipped his head in a slight bow and sat down.
"The Lannisters seek marriage and alliance. They covet my granddaughter. In exchange they offer us what?"
"Friendship. Crown. Royal grandchildren... Forgiveness, and fiefs of those that do not ask for forgiveness."
"I just want to say, our support for Renly was premature, and on deception...", her father muttered. On the table squeaked a plate that Lady Ollena pushed to her son.
"Here dear, melon cake is especially fine, a bit hard on the outside but juicy on the inside". With a confused expression on his face, her plump lord father took a golden fork and began to nibble the cake.
"What fiefdoms?," asked Garlan.
"All those who rose against the true king... Bronzegate, Mistwood, Cider Hall, Maidenpool, Darry and many more".
"Not Storm's End", at this moment Garlan was more ambitious than their father.
"Storm's End belongs by right to the King's younger brother Tommen". Garlan shook his head dissatisfied with the answer, while their grandmother observed the small talk with a grin and ire.
"Lannister friendship you say, the Targaryens took it and got a knife in the back. Nor did the Baratheons fare any better".
With a half-smile, Baelish looked at Lady Ollena, his eyes existed only for her and Margaery occasionally. The others seemed to vanish.
"The Lannisters are not so bad as you think. They are generous and loyal to their friends. They have an ear for desires and forgive past transgressions. The King Joffrey himself named your ill-fated pact with Renly an error, not a crime. It is time for the two mightiest houses of the realm to join and bring calm and wealth to all of our lands once more".
"King Joffrey speaks wisely," her father said between bites with Baelish's pleased smile.
"I hear Cersei's words, through Littlefinger's mouth. No matter how sweet-tongued you are, and she far away, I sense fear and need in her voice. Fear of Stannis or that new dragon, irrelevant. We are there to remedy your lack of strength to win the war. Speak more plainly that we are expected to save the lion's ass," Ollena Tyrell's attitude was sharper than the neat beard on Littlefinger's face.
Lord Baelish was not deterred, "Lions have slender lungs and short breath, they sprint fast and strong, but not long. Prey sometimes gets a chance and trust that it is safe, but the lion is ever near, silent and hidden, and at last snatches all his foes."
"And you are a bird that eats fleas from the back of a lion".
"That and much more. We all have our parts, being shy would leave me in a simple tower on the Fingers, on a rocky shore, a place that even the waves scarcely love. But when a man shuts his eyes, and does what he must, an unsavory bedding, meal or otherwise, he gets more than this world is ready to grant him. High steward of the Reach Harlen Tyrell would concur with me". Now Lord Baelish eyed her father, while the Lord of Highgarden pondered whether to heed more to the cakes or their guest. Her father's doublet, stitched from velvet with woven silk roses, was already smeared with colorful stains.
"Mother, maybe..."
"We need to wait, yes, you are right dear, you have ever been so prudent", Lady Ollena eyed her son but sneered at Littlefinger, "after all, our honored guest knows not of this, but Aegon Targaryen also sends his envoy to parley on the same matter". Margaery joined the jest and sweetly beamed at Littlefinger.
"Lord Baelish, the white raven has heralded autumn, but summer fruit still flourishes here, I am certain that your prolonged stay in Highgarden will be pleasant", Margaery said, keeping up the play on her face. Lord Bealish was comely, she did not crave him as some other men, but enticing him in bed would surely not be torture.
...
There were eight of them, in golden armor and mail. Seven of men and a women, with lush blond hair, painted nails and rings that shone in all the colors of the rainbow. A large hat whose wide edges hid the face, and pheasant feathers made the one under the brim much taller than they were in truth.
The dragon prince's envoy was a woman. Nothing had tickled Margaery's imagination more than this for a long while, as the blonde woman guided her steed to the white pillar, ensnared under a chain of blackberries, which bore white and red roses. She plucked a rose, sniffed it and set it on the horse's mane.
When he took off his hat, in the great Atrium of the Highgarden, the man of the golden hair ceased to be a woman. He bent his knees lightly, extended his hand with the hat and bowed. "It is an honor to present myself as Lysono Marr, envoy of King Aegon the Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men," the envoy chanted the titles stressing each syllable, with a voice that seemed to match her cousins at the picnic.
"It is an immense pleasure to be here. The Splendor of the rose gardens, green corridors and white walls of Highgarden are a beauty that reaches to Volantis. The stature, wealth and deeds of arms of Lord Mace Tyrell are widely known, as well as the sharpness of his mother". Her father blushed in pride, while her grandmother was amused. The whole scene looked like a mummer show except that the man did not juggle, perform puppet shows or sing. All her father's entertainers looked at the man, wondering if he would steal their job.
"And you my dear", he turned to her with a dazzling smile, "Oh sweetnes, as if the beauty of all the summer goddesses, daughters of mother Royne, Pantera and Weeping Lady flowed into one face. You are, my dear, the Maiden reborn in flesh and blood." Margaery laughed, partly charmed and partly humored by his words.
"And I am the Stranger", her grandmother said, with laughter from almost everyone present in the large Atrium. Margaery's mother Alerie did not find the blasphemous words funny.
"What does the dragon propose?" Willas inquired.
"Marriage. Nothing less, nothing more", the playfull voice of Lysono Maar grew more grave then.
"The Lannisters proffer new fiefdoms," her second brother said.
"Argilac, the last storm king, offerd land that wasn't his to my liege's forefather Aegon the Conqueror, in return for a service he could not achieve himself. The Lannisters are arrogant when they need nothing and humble when they are in need. There is a saying in Lys, not very graceful, but apt for this occasion: a dove in hand pecks seeds from you hand, when it takes wing shits on you."
Almost grandmother's words.
"You can humor us, but it will not bring us closer to an accord nor give you an edge over the Lannisters", Garlan muttered.
"I doubt that any words spoken here will do that, young ser. Long ago, the battle of the Trident sealed the fate of the kingdom, the Lannisters and my king will soon cross steel. The song of swords will write the pages of the future", Marr said.
"Wars do not always end with one fray. The Lannisters and the Starks have had many clashes, and the outcome of the war is still unclear. Not to mention that you are in league with Dorne, the sand serpents ever threaten us and they crippled my brother".
"Garlan. About my condition, please, I would like to speak for myself", Willas smiled gently at his younger brother. "Besides, in the last letter, Prince Oberyn wrote to me that something big is brewing. Targaryen resurgence was the last thing I would think of, but it happened". Willas was more clever than their father, more careful than Garlan and cooler-headed than Loras.
"If we have to wait, then this whole travesty is too stressful and boring, so we should stop it now. Lord Lyson, Lysen, whatever your name is, you have the hospitality of Highgarden", Olenna Tyrell was charming even in a bad mood.
Margaery did not know what to think after all that, this game was complex, full of twists and turns, both men were playing a game that she had only seen with her grandmother. The waiting was terrible and the days passed slowly.
She strove harder to catch the eye of the newcomers. She clad herself more loosely than usual, with wide slits that bared her shoulder blades and breast's and with tight and sheer silk that showed the curves of her body. The crisp autumn air hardened her nipples, to the delight of the guards, whose eyes lingered on her longer and more often than usual and to the displeasure of her mother. Lady Alerie chided her to cover up, "it's too cold for that attire," she said. On another occasion she added, "daughter, we are not in Dorne."
Her grandmother was right, fair women are wine for men, in their presence they lose their wits, and become weak and clumsy. All except two, whose attention she especially craved. Lysono Marr seemed to be indifferent to women like her brother Loras, while Baelish would give her complimentary looks, but without that mindless passion. Littlefinger was more of a butcher than a gourmet. She was sure he liked to eat flesh, but above all he liked to deal with it, weigh and shape it.
Trying anything with them would be foolish, as she was yet unskilled in her arts, but their companions, for them her skirt was quite tempting.
The guards were mute when she passed through the door, the warm air full of aromas relaxed her skin with a caress. Marble sirens released a steady jet of water from their mouths into the pool. She saw her reflection in the glossy mahogany floor. Like a siren myself. The soft sound of the flute gave the mood to the space, coming from the sound horns that adorned the crystal white walls. Singers were not allowed to stay in the baths, so they played from the sound rooms where the sounds carried by pipes came to their ears.
The boy was already in the pool, leaning on the edge, her cousins were sitting on the floor next to the edge, sprinkling water on his bare young shoulders, with a loud giggle, which matched the music. Margaery was in a simple silk robe, thin and transparent like a veil for a summer heat, which shielded her face from the scorching sun.
She first wanted them to bring Ser Lothor Brune from Littlefinger's company, but quickly gave up on that idea. The knight was too old and seasoned enough to see through her game, and even if he danced as she played, he would probably expect her to go all the way. Margaery had no intention of giving up her maidenhood for a folly. She had no doubt that Elinor would do it, if she asked her to do the same, but it simply was not needed. Short step by the short step success. That's why they brought the squire, old enough to be led by the paths of passion instinct, young enough not to know how to play the game. Noticing her entrance, her cousins left the room. On the way out, Elinor winked at her, while Magga stuck out her tongue meaningfully. Margaery saw them off with a smile.
"What is your name?" she asked him.
"Ced... r ...i", he began to say his name, but his tongue tied when the robe slipped from her shoulders. His eyes hesitantly wandered over her bare body, sometimes tracing the lines of her face, sometimes dropping to her breasts, and sometimes going to the brown hair between her legs. She bent her right leg, standing on her toes, slightly moving it to the right to ease his view. Virtue and lust battled on the boy's face. He wanted to look at her body, but chastity drove him to look at her face. Her raised thin eyebrow and slightly curved lip in a mischievous smile, then forced him to lower his gaze to the water.
"Come on," she said, "I want to be your friend". She loosed her great bun and the curls fell over shoulders, where the silk had modestly hidden them a few moments ago. The boy, with a blush on his cheeks, remained silent, while she stepped barefoot down the stairs into the pool.
Swimming up to him, she was now face to face with him. "Your name, I asked," she kissed him on the cheek.
"Ced... Cedric. Cedric Arryn of Gulltown."
"Well met, Cedric Arryn of Gulltown. And how old are you?" Margaery gave him a kiss on the other cheek as a reward for his answer.
"Sixteen, if it pleases my lady", the boy's mood brightened at her gestures.
"It surely does", Margaery said. "Does Lord Baelish know you are here?"
He shook his head.
"Good, we don't want anyone to spoil our evening. I need you, Cedric", she said sweetly, with a pleading voice that ladies from tales use to ask favors from the gallant knights.
His face revealed that he was ready to confide in her, excitement drove away fear and nervousness. It didn't hurt that her small breasts occasionally pressed gently against his chest, sporadically marked with traces of black youthful hair. They floated next to each other, touching from time to time. He swallowed a small lump, with every touch of her soft skin.
"Are the rumors about Joffrey true?"
"Rumors?" he asked her anxiously.
"You know", she said with a voice of curiosity as if she was discussing a dress with Elinor, "that he is a monster, a bully, rough." She ended the description with a smile.
"King Joffrey is a good king," he uttered an unconvincing lie quickly.
"Someone has spread rumors among the castle servants that suggest otherwise." Her hand, under the water, slowly traced the muscles of the boy's belly, and came close to his navel, then suddenly turned to his right leg and pinched him gently. He had the body of a squire, where the muscles were drawn and live, rather than expressed and hard.
"I know nothing, except that King Joffrey is brave and such as a true king should be...", she put her other hand over his mouth. He is a tougher nut than I thought, which means that Baelish is more mighty than she suspected.
"Please, my lady. Lord Baelish," he begged unattractively.
"...is not here". It's time to raise the game. "Sit on the edge," she said. He looked at her nervously, "sit on the edge, I said", she was more commanding than she wanted. Under the weight of nervousness, he lifted himself out of the pool with his arms and sat on the edge, hiding his member with his hands.
She swam to his feet and tried to pry open the shield, in the shape of a closed shell, made of his hands, which hid his member.
"Please, my lady, I will be punished".
"No, you won't, because it will remain our secret."
It didn't last long, he didn't rather, and the boy let out many secrets and more.
"Joffrey is indeed a monster", he said under the magic of her hands, "he shot rabbits with a crossbow, he took the tongue of a singer, even though he liked his song" and finally the most important, "he abused and scorned his betrothed Sansa Stark, who escaped from the Lannisters, and her younger sister was never their captive". To this cat lion won't be able to do anything, she remembered his first cruelty, which she had heard of.
"Cedric, you were great", she said to the boy who was losing his breath and sweating but not because of the warm air, "wait for my cousins here, they will smuggle you back." She got out of the pool, wiped her wet body, under his last lustful looks and wrapped herself in a silk robe again.
"But you were right about one thing," her words were followed by a puzzled look, "if they find out what happened here, they will torture you, or worse slay you. But you are a good squire and you won't tell anyone". He nodded his head fearfully.
...
Sellsword sergeant Chain was an easier prey, but less informative. Sitting on a chair, sandwiched between Elinor and Magge, he rudely ate cakes, revealing crooked and worn teeth. However, revealing secrets from him did not require any revealing of skin.
"Aegon Targaryen is stern, he does not talk much and mostly keeps the company of the exiled Lord Jon Connington", Margaery would later recount his ineloquent babbling. But that was not what attracted the peaks of her attention.
"He is gentle and cheerful when he is with her"
He cursed himself for letting that slip, then demanded to leave. No amount of caresses or kisses on the cheek, from her cousins could keep him there, so he bolted out of her chamber.
"Ugh, I will need to scrub my mouth for a week", Magga said with revulsion.
"I think you fancied him", Elinor jested.
"He was tight-lipped", Margaery said with frustration.
"Except that you will wed Randyll Tarly," Elinor chuckled, and earned a grin from Margaery. If the dragons take my hand, I will.
"Better stern, than enjoying torturing animals", Margaery retorted, "but he let slip something, in carelessness, that Aegon is only cheerful for her".
"Aye, that was odd", Magga said as she nibbled on the cakes from the table. You loathe the sellsword, but not the sweets that he touched with his fingers.
"Try the others, one of them will tell who she is", she said with a tone that they knew as an order. Through the window she glimpsed at the mighty Mander, whose bountiful flow nourished Reech.
But their their luck ran out, as Lysono Marr isolated the rest of his entourage and protected them from unwanted questions, a right that the peace banner granted them.
Margaery had learned enough, not only that one king was a monster, and the other more warrior than a king. Petyr Baelish schemed for and against the Lannisters, while the Targaryen king had a secret women. Many lords had paramours, or taking common girls as they pleased; There was no lack of bastards in all lands of the realm. But once Margaery ensnared him in her thorns, he would have eyes for none but her.
The wait for news ceased, as if it had never been. The Targaryen-Dornish host crushed the Lannister one. Tywin Lannister, his brother and many of his bannermen were in shackles.
Her father formally accepted to the marriage proposal from Lysono Marr and just like that Margaery was betrothed to a man, whom she deemed dead until a year past. Or she did not care at all to be true.
...
"Will you go and welcome the new king in the capitol?", Olenna Tyrell said mockingly to Baelish, breaking the silence.
"When the beast's jaw is open, it is not wise to use it as a door," winked Petyr Baelish, "the dragon king is a puppet of Varys. The spider and I have been playing a game against each other for a long time, under the shadow of Robert Baratheon, the king who did not favor either of us. While he did not care what we did, we fought a hundred wars". If Petyr Baelish was a member of the Small Council of a king who was losing the war, it could not be told by his voice or bearing.
"And the spider bested the bird. You are no longer Lord of anything. Harrenhal now belongs to some Strickland, fortunate for us in the Reach because he might have claimed the land of his forebears here, where his ancestors lost them backing one of those foolish Blackfyre rebellions. Not that we would not embrace him in our fold, in the name of the new king," Olenna said scornfully and continued in taunting tone, "But what of you Baelish? Are you going back to Lysa Arryn. In my time, Lords who wedded heiresses or noble widows we would call vultures. But, again, she has a son, and you no heirs. Only an old and ugly woman whose bed you warm".
"If my memory does not fail me, you also earned your thorns by warming the right bed. The Queen of Scales does not sound as good as the Queen of Thorns," Petyr said, reminding Olenna about her past. Margaery knew that her grandmother had been betrothed to a Targaryen prince, the second or third brother of the heir.
"When we speak of others we are all whores who talk of virtue," she said casually, "if it gives you comfort, you can stay in Higharden, we might even give you a job, now that you are out of the employment".
"As I said, it is always nice to have friends," Littelfinger raised his glass to them both, "and it is always trouble to choose the wrong ones," he added, looking at Margaery.
The next morning fog descended upon Highgarden, the autumn reminded them of its presence. Walking down the corridor, Margaery smiled, remembering the words of her mother, the autumn had really made her cover up her body.
A scream cut through the fog and Margaery could only make out the shapes of flowers and the shadows of people, in the blue rose garden. She went down and found the servant maid Elda, sobbing in the arms of her husband, who was one of the men at arms in the castle. Now there were several men standing around the corpse.
"Poor lad, broke his neck", said the captain of the guard.
"Youth, folly I say, he likely played on the railing", added another voice.
When they turned the body, Margaery's eyes froze on Cedric as blood dripped from his nose. She swiftly lifted her gown and ran back into the bowels of the castle. In the corridor where she had stood a few moments ago, Lord Baelish was now watching the scene in the garden. Lothor Brune, his sworn sword, stood beside him.
"His mother is so frail of heart, this will shatter her", Baelish said with a voice devoid of any grief. Margaery followed his words with chills.
"Your grandmother taught you well. I will also give you a lesson about the game. We all have secrets. On which our reputation, wealth, sometimes even life hinges. Eyes shut forever, best keep secrets. Good morning, my Lady or Your grace, I am not sure if it is too early to address you like that". He smiled at her, made her a courtesy worthy of the daughter of the Warden of the South, bowed and left.
He is a player, she repeated her grandmother's words. She seldom thought she could meet someone more clever than the Queen of Thorns.
Baelish accepted her grandmother's offer and stayed as a guest in Highgarden, the envoys of her future husband left the castle after completing all formalities. Eight of them arrived, and nine left Highgarden.
Her father's laugh reached his ears, when Lysono Marr suggested that Loras join the Kingsguard, as the protector of the future queen. Me, the thought still seemed strange. Next to Loras she would at least feel safe.
Cedric's corpse was not the only one found, days later, fishermen dragged out a body from the Mander, near Dunstonbury, floating with an arrow in his neck. The unlucky one was one of her father's men, with a golden rose stitched on his chest. Garlan went to see the body and returned after two days.
"Besides all the perils, now we have to deal with outlaws. Hang every one who looks like an outlaw," her father waved his index finger in front of a full hall. The dancers stopped, the singers hushed, and the court fools paused. Sworn swords, petty nobles and almost everyone who rode a horse and wielded a sword vowed revenge and that they would bring the head of the culprit.
"Father, these are not outlaws. I know this arrow well", Garlan held a broken arrow in his hand, an arrowhead and thirty inches of wood. "Such arrowheads are forged in only one place in all of Westeros. Horn Hill. The body of our man floated from Bitterbridge and this is a Tarly arrow".