Author's Notes: Is it just me or is this year going really quickly? Two weeks feels like nothing these days, but I'm always happy to have another chapter to deliver to you wonderful readers! Thank you for reading, for following, for favoriting, for giving this fic your support! You are all gems!

I would like to thank catzrko0l for beta-ing this chapter! You are a blessing!

Chapter 51

Aemon XV

Aemon stood in the courtyard once more awaiting a carriage. His uncle, Robb, Margaery, Lady Olenna, Lord Tyrell and Lord Willas were all there, but it was his turn to be anxious. Arya and Sansa were finally arriving. Though he had rather successfully put it at the back of his mind, he fretted about his relationship with Arya. He had been damn near close to kissing Jaime for finding the solution he desperately needed to keep from breaking his little cousin's heart. He then wanted to punch Jaime for daring to tease him with it.

Now finally he could tell her and hopefully bring that mischievous smile back to her face. He rather doubted he would instantly earn her forgiveness. He had, after all, been keeping her in the dark on her fate for nearly nine months. He hoped it was a start at least.

The carriage trundled into the yard and much to his surprise, Arya was the first to spill out. Her expression was livid and she hurried away from the carriage. Her stride spoke of agitation and restless energy, no doubt unhappy that she'd likely been denied the use of her horse. When her eyes fell on them, he saw a swirl of emotions. There was a brief happiness, but she hid it away, and approached them stiffly with the stony expression that he had seen on her most often.

"Your Grace," she gritted out and curtsied at him.

The glare his uncle was giving her did not escape Aemon.

"Arya, it's so very good to see you! I have missed you. I hope your ride wasn't too uncomfortable," he said.

"It was well enough, Your Grace," Arya replied with a lifeless voice.

"Arya," Uncle Ned glared down at her. "I did not raise you to be like this. You are being rude."

"Let her be, Uncle," Aemon said with not a little sadness in his voice.

Arya shuffled over to Robb who cried out in glee. Sansa glided up to them in a grey dress with Tully blue trimming, grinning at them in the same fashion as Lady Margaery had when she arrived.

"Your Grace." Sansa swooped into the perfect curtsy, her smile schooled to a pleasant one for propriety's sake.

"Cousin, I am glad to see you're well! I hope the journey was pleasant."

He stifled his smile at the slight childish break in her composure as she wrinkled her nose, but just as quickly she replied, "It was most joyous, Your Grace. The countryside in the Riverlands and the Crownlands is so beautiful." She held out her hand and he pecked it.

"Father, it's been so long!"

"It's only been three months, but look how you've grown! You'll be taller than me soon! And you grow more beautiful by the day!"

"Sansa, you look well! This is Lady Margaery, my betrothed."

"It's a pleasure, Sansa. So wonderful to finally put a face to your name. Lord Robb has told me so much about you!"

"Lady Margaery, you're too kind. I am so very pleased to meet you."

"Your dress is beautiful! We'll have to chat. I want to hear more about what it's like to be a lady in the North. And I'll fill you in about High Garden."

Sansa beamed. "That would be lovely!"

"Yes, chat, some other time. I would like to meet the future Lady of High Garden before I perish here," Lady Olenna said, mercifully breaking up the chatter.

Aemon had yet to spend a lengthy amount of time in the Lady Olenna's presence, but he sighed in relief at the break she provided in the dull conversation. As King, he was honor bound to receive his cousins and could not simply leave as desired, but hearing the endless platitudes was enough to try anyone's patience.

"Very Tully as well, good structure, your mother was quite fertile if I've heard correctly." Sansa nearly blushed to her roots at Lady Olenna's words.

"Mother!"

"Grandmother!"

"What? We know that's what marriage is all about. You seem sweet, child. I can see you being a good match to Willas."

"Grandmother…" Willas pressed more urgently.

"Oh, fine! I insist that you and your family join us for dinner. Two betrothals finalized calls for a celebration, I think," Lady Olenna said and then sauntered off.

"Please forgive my grandmother, Lady Sansa. She has...little patience for proper etiquette, but I hope you won't judge the family by her conduct alone," Willas said.

"Your grandmother is...interesting? But you are very gallant, Lord Willas! I look forward to getting to know you and your family better," Sansa replied. She blushed once more as Lord Willas kissed her hand.

He bowed out as the Tyrells continued to fawn over Sansa. Plans were made for a family dinner that was meant to unite the two great houses and he was naturally invited as an extension of House Stark. He cared not for the frivolities and headed once more to the godswood. Maybe by some miracle the Old Gods will heed them and offer him comfort in these trying times.

Once more, Lord Cyrus had accepted the role as messenger and delivered a letter from Jaime when he arrived to play Rhaegar's harp once more. Not surprisingly, Jaime determined that Lord Baelish had lied about everything and was almost certainly continuing to steal from the treasury and, by extension, House Lannister. But to actually prove it would require getting ahold of Baelish's true books and not the counterfeit ones he maintained for appearances to the crown. However, if they tipped their hand too soon, he would flee in an instant and it was unlikely they'd ever find him again. If that happened, he and Jaime both would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.

They were walking a fine line. If they misplayed it, they were both dead and the realm would be lost. It was enough to keep him up at night, fretting in his bed. It was practically unraveling Jaime, though he hadn't had a good conversation with him in weeks. Both were too wrapped up in their work and too paranoid to utter anything that suggested there were more cracks in the foundation of their friendship.

He took heart that Jaime took time out of his day to train Pod and also offered lessons to the warrior ladies of the Keep. He had seen that Brienne appeared to get along famously with Lady Maege and Lady Dacey Mormont. Most men were still reluctant to be seen engaging with the warrior women, but the Northern men were already comfortable fighting alongside women and had no qualms about training with them either. It would be slow, but he was confident that women would ultimately be accepted among their ranks. It gave hope for Arya. Perhaps in time he could convince his uncle to see there were more options for noble ladies than simply being married off and given to a man to act as little more than a broodmare.

It wasn't lost on him that with the announcement of his pending betrothal, by all appearances, he was hypocritically doing the same to Daenerys. She had suffered so much with the loss of her child and by making her his queen, he was going to press her into that selfsame broodmare that he felt was so ill-fitting of Arya. Just as Jaime made strides to woo Brienne, he hoped he could do the same to Dany. He wouldn't have much time, but he'd be damned if he didn't put in the effort.

He was just ready to sink to his knees to pray when a light voice said, "Your Grace?"

Lady Margaery had all the confidence of a newly knighted man, but her steps were delicate as she approached.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head. "You're not with your family?"

She waved away the concern and smiled. "I still have time enough for them."

"You marry in less than a month. I can't imagine they'll all be following you North."

Even so, she still looked at him with only amusement. "I have been preparing for my wedding and what comes after all of my life. We know that we will be leaving our family behind, hopefully for something better."

He nodded and gave her a weak smile.

"Forgive my intrusion, but I saw your departure and I thought I might inquire. I heard you came here when I arrived as well. If I may be so bold to suggest it, you seem sad. Are the betrothals not to your pleasing?"

"Not at all. I envy you."

"Envy me? I am but a lord paramount's daughter. You're King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"But you are with your betrothed, your family. Mine is still out there. I love my family but they...can't understand."

She nodded in sympathy. "I think I see what you mean. You are the king, but you know of no one familiar who has shared the position. You're alone."

He chuckled wryly. "'Tis the burden I must bear, but bear it I will."

"You needn't be alone. I could be your friend," she said sweetly, placing a hand on his arm.

He focused a pointed glare on her hand then met her eyes. She removed it hastily.

"And what do you mean by that, my Lady?"

Her pleasant facade faltered and she immediately released him, but the sweet smile was back in an instant. "I'm sorry if I was too familiar, Your Grace. After all, we are to be one family soon."

He nodded, but remained suspicious.

Her smile became fixed, but she stepped back. "Your cousin, the Lord Robb, is a good man. I look forward to becoming apart of a line as ancient as the Starks."

"Indeed. Forgive me, Lady Margaery, but I wish to be alone to pray."

"Of course, Your Grace. Until next time," she said and curtsied.

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Margaery I

She maintained the pleasant smile on her face as she walked back to the Maidenvault, strutting at the appreciative looks she was getting, as she had been trained her whole life to do. There was not a man in the Keep who didn't have eyes for her.

Except two.

When she reached her room, she found her handmaiden waiting, but dismissed her. Once the door was shut, she sat down in front of the vanity and let the smile fall off of her face. It was here, alone in front of her mirror, that she was allowed to see her real self. It was here that she showed her fear.

It was not a strong fear, but simply a tightening around the eyes as her mouth formed into what could be construed as a puzzled frown. Now that she thought about it, puzzled was one of the feelings currently pervading her. How could it be that all of her training failed her at this moment?

The door suddenly opened, but she continued to stare into the mirror.

"Well, tell me. How'd it go?" Lady Olenna bustled into the room with a youthfulness she hadn't displayed in some time.

"I will remain betrothed to Robb of House Stark," she declared, picking up her brush to run through her hair. She didn't want to look at her grandmother. She didn't think she could bear the disappointment she'd see there.

Lady Olenna scoffed. "What? You deserve a king, not some grey boy in the cold North, handsome as he is."

"Maybe I do," Margaery said, finally turning to her. "But he won't have me. His heart is set on the Targaryen Princess."

Her grandmother pursed her lips in disbelief. "What have I told you? A man's weakness is his cock. He doesn't care what the girl underneath him is, just that she's there for his pleasure. He can say all of the pretty words that he likes, but once you have him in bed, you will melt him like butter."

Margaery shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "You're wrong, grandmother. About this one. And Jaime Lannister for that matter."

She had tried to get under Lord Jaime's skin when he was in the Reach for negotiation. Even as she was escorting him around High Garden by arm, he had maintained a courteous distance. She wouldn't forget the knowing look on his face as she attempted to pry information regarding the king out of him. For all of his golden beauty, he had all of the bearing and aggression of a lion. It hadn't been too hard to see that if she pulled at his tail too long, he'd eventually swipe, and a single swipe of a lion's paw was deadly. She hadn't tried too hard with him. He was the Hand after all, not the King. While a worthy prize, he was still only second best.

Her grandmother looked at her in the same mocking manner she did whenever one of her cousins said something empty-headed and, for the first time, felt anger bubbling at her grandmother's willfulness.

"I felt it important to lay the groundwork for our plans. It was crucial to see where I might strike, but his weak point is not his cock as it is with other men."

"And I'm telling you, you should've just snuck into his room once he was in a drunken stupor."

"Grandmother, he has been here for two months and not a single soul has reported him ever being drunk. He does not indulge like old King Robert did or many other lords for that matter. He actually appears serious about governing."

"We are having dinner with the Starks and King Aemon will be there too. We could pay a servant to ply him with alcohol. This is celebratory and anyone worth their salt will be drunk," Lady Olenna said. "We have the resources, child. Just say the word."

"That won't work, Grandmother. All I would be doing is defiling myself, not securing my place as queen."

"He may be Targaryen, but he's a Stark. Those fools are made of honor. When he defiles you, he will save you the humiliation by marrying you."

"And be known as the Whore Queen?" Margaery spat. "No, he won't save me from humiliation. I used the tactics that you've taught me, that has won me the attention of every man I tried it on. And he saw right through me. He knew exactly what I was trying to attempt, but instead of a warm smile, he turned cold. As cold as the northern winters. He has no interest in me. I shall be content with Robb Stark as my husband."

Content. It stirred nothing exciting in her. All of her life, expectations had been forced upon her to reach, always reach for power. The little she knew of Cersei Lannister, the golden beauty had used spite and ire to claw her way to the top. Margaery preferred to use honey. She was loved by all and it made the perfect disguise for her true ambitions, but King Aemon Targaryen and Lord Jaime Lannister had seen right through her.

It had been going around court about how Jaime had flatly turned down Alysanne Lefford. There was much speculation that there was another that had caught his eye and she strongly suspected that Alysanne Lefford herself had been behind that rumor. She could hardly believe it when she arrived at King's Landing and saw Jaime Lannister training for the first time with a great, brutish woman.

She had no ill will toward Brienne. She was merely the daughter of a minor lord and her looks alone proved that they were hardly competing on the same level, or so she had thought. Lord Jaime spent much of his training time with the warrior women and Margaery had dug around until she discovered that it was Jaime Lannister himself who had decreed that women could share the training grounds with the men. He was there every morning with his squire.

A group of ladies that included her and her cousins were always there to cheer on the men, specifically the ones they were angling for, and the majority were there for Jaime Lannister. But not once did he ever look in their direction. He had eyes only for Brienne of Tarth. He didn't act in a particularly flirtatious manner. He taunted her the same as he did any man trying their luck against him, yet the stars seemed to shine in his eyes any time he met Brienne's. Some way, somehow, through no active work of her own, Brienne had captured the Hand of the King, though she appeared oblivious to this. Did Jaime even recognize it in himself? The only gesture he had made was when he very nearly gutted some men who had been disparaging her and a girl in the training yard. Perhaps he was waiting for a more advantageous match as would be demanded of the heir of House Lannister, but what was more advantageous than Alysanne Lefford? What was he waiting for?

Although Margaery did not understand the Hand's desire for Brienne, it was far easier to see King Aemon's reasons for holding out for Princess Daenerys. He held little to no resemblance to his father Rhaegar. The only reason he had the throne at all is due to being backed by the might of the North and the Westerlands. It didn't hurt that he appeared to be a just king, treating his enemies with mercy, but he had still thoroughly removed them from power. Willas had recounted the small council meeting where Grandmaester Pycelle was unceremoniously dragged out in a clearly planned attack. House Baratheon, while not dead, was broken and would take generations to recover now that a bastard had been put in charge of it. He proved ruthless and cunning. She had difficulty believing the king had come up with that himself, but he was at least wise enough to surround himself with people who would offer such plans and then listen to them.

What she wouldn't give to have a conversation with either of them. Not a flowery one with false courtesies and masks, but a real conversation to pick their minds. As a woman, she was forced to play a lady that was all sweetness and courtesies, to hide her own intellect. She didn't have to do that around Willas and he had lamented more than once that she was not permitted to pursue those avenues as a woman.

Her grandmother snorted. "What happened to you? Where's your courage? You won't get anywhere waffling like that. A queen must be bold."

"For the love my family, for the future of House Tyrell, maybe I don't deserve to be queen. But I feel that any woman suited for queen must also recognize when a move threatens theirs and their house's survival."

Again, Lady Olenna guffawed. "He hasn't even killed one of his enemies yet."

"Yet, grandmother. I don't doubt that he's waiting to make an example of someone truly deserving."

"He and Lord Jaime both are too chivalrous to put a woman to death. They couldn't even put Jaime's sister to death and what you'd be doing is not worse than that."

"It's not just my current betrothal at risk. Willas will also suffer for my folly if I fail. And I feel it is entirely too likely that I will fail."

She liked Robb. He was handsome and he did have some intelligence, but he was like so many other men, stuck where they were. He had no ambition - not that it was a good quality to have ambition against a family member - and no curiosity.

Robb Stark was mundane, but he was safe. Mayhaps that was not bad. The massive shake-up in the levels of power had taken them all off guard and it left them all scrambling to land some place safely. King Aemon and Lord Jaime had used the chaos to their advantage, carving out the top spots for themselves. Their self-assurance was so irresistible that even despite the risk of attempting to reset the board, she felt it was worth it to at least try.

Lady Olenna frowned. "You never know until you try. Come now, we can find a way to get him drunk and sneak you into his room."

Margaery shook her head. "No, I can't. I can't do that to him."

"It's just a little sex. They'll get over it."

She raised her eyebrow in shock. "Were you not looking at Lord Jaime when he recounted his sister giving him 'a little sex'? I know what I saw and it was a far cry from enjoyment."

"That's because it was with his sister. Incest is an abomination, unless you're Targaryen. He probably wouldn't have thought twice about it if it had been any other woman."

"He looked ill! The servants said he screamed in his sleep while he was staying with us. And one of those words he screamed was 'Cersei;' I think we can agree that was not in pleasure. For the last time, Grandmother, I intend to settle. Robb Stark will make a fine husband and we shall make fine children."

Lady Olenna huffed. "Sounds like a dull future."

"I'd rather my future be dull than dead. Now, please excuse me, I must get ready for dinner."

Her grandmother reluctantly nodded and shuffled out.

Margaery sighed and sat back in her chair. She couldn't say she was perfectly happy with the decision either. If I take into consideration the way King Aemon and Lord Jaime have dismantled their enemies, they would not hesitate to do the same to us, she thought, feeling dread well up. They weren't perfectly innocent. Loras was considered a blackmark on their family since he had been caught in a traitor's bed and clearly lived against the tenants of the Seven. How many more chances could they realistically expect, especially when the goal was to toy with the hearts of two men who grew up as brothers? Robb might be willing to take the bait, but Aemon wouldn't.

For the love she held her brother and the hope that he would find his happiness in Sansa Stark, she would refrain from her usual tricks.

A knock sounded at the door and just like that, the pleased smile was back on her face as she welcomed her handmaid in.