Chapter Text
Margaery had been queen three times. And all three times were lost. Twice she was widowed.
However, she never ceased to be a maiden.
She was queen to Renly; until he came to die, making her say that he was merely a usurper and turn to become queen to Joffrey; thus, her second time as queen; until she and her grandmother killed him and she became queen to Tommen, who was delegitimized by the dragon kings.
And so had been her life up to that moment. Three times crowned and three times married; but, by the said laws of Westeros, she had never truly been the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Now Tommen was a bastard and she was single again. Lord Mace, her beloved father, was killed in battle against the Targaryen usurper, Loras died at Dragonstone; her grandmother was in the Reach, along with Margaery's brothers, Willas and Garlan. As well as her mother.
They were surrounded by the damned ironmen.
Only Margaery was left to care for her cousins: Elinor, Alla, Megga. Elinor was almost the same age as her, but Alla and Megga still had sixteen namedays to come.
"When are they going to free us?" whined Megga, on the day the keep fell. "We just got rid of that disgusting sparrow, and now…"
"They won't free us, you idiot!" snapped Elinor, whose betrothed might be dead at that moment, fighting against the enemies. "They're going to execute us!"
"Elinor, stop!" ordered Margaery. She couldn't let her scare her cousins and make the situation worse. "They won't do that! They need us alive to have support from Highgarden!"
"Just like Robb helped free his sister?" retorted Elinor, in tears, amid agitated sobs. "They wouldn't care about us… our own allies turned against us. Aegon killed your father!"
"I know…" admitted Margaery reluctantly.
Her father commanded the first battle against the so-called "Aegon Targaryen." He was supposed to win, but the Golden Company and the traitor army of Mathis Rowan joined and defeated him.
Randyll Tarly was supposed to help him, but he also proved a traitor and held back a part of the army – that he knew was loyal only to him, killing those who weren't, just as he did years ago with those loyal to Renly – for himself; arriving only after her father's death and joining the army of traitors.
My father should have let him keep the Florent lands, he never should have given them to Garlan… I see that now, but it's too late.
Her brother Loras, her other half, was gone shortly after. Leaving her. She was alone.
"They won't harm us," insisted Margaery. "They'll hold us as hostages. I promise we'll be fine, Megga…"
But her cousin burst into tears.
Margaery had also cried that day. She could no longer calm Tommen nor her cousins.
However, all that had been almost a fortnight ago. Maybe even more. Now she was more composed; although she still wasn't at home, nor safe.
She pushed aside the velvet blankets, feeling a faint lavender scent fill the air. Her cousin Elinor, who was sharing the bed with her, was yawning. Despite the winter cold that now assailed the Seven Kingdoms, the covers were still quite warm and cozy, because one or two bronze pans filled with coal were always placed under the fabric of the furs, also warming the fresh straw mattress; although the heat was already weak at that point, it was still enough to let the Tyrell ladies rest. Heavy velvet curtains covered the bed where they were, embroidered with gold threads in the shape of roses and seven-pointed stars. The canopy of the four-poster bed was one of the few things that had been left after the fall of the keep. The wooden columns had high-relief carvings of warriors battling winged beasts that resembled serpents with wings.
After getting up from her bed, drawing back the canopy curtains, stretching, Margaery rang a bell, as she always did upon waking, indicating that the servants should enter and attend to them. The servants before the Targaryen conquest had been normal servants of the keep; but now they were people from Essos. And from various parts, as they varied in ethnicities. Margaery didn't know how to speak any of their languages.
The servants came, prepared baths, dressed and combed Margaery and her cousins. Leaving plenty of food for them. A considerable improvement since the enemy took the keep was that now there was no shortage of food for them. No more bread, water, and cheap oats.
The chamber in which the Tyrell cousins were accommodated was not a great luxury. That was even before the downfall of the Queen Regent—a large room, but without the great privileges that Margaery (at the time queen of the Seven Kingdoms!) enjoyed; followed by novices of the Faith, no guests or even singers and court fools to brighten the atmosphere. However, it was an improvement compared to the exhausting and shameful period in which the small and young roses were imprisoned in the cells of the Great Sept of Baelor. Any place was better than going through that again.
The slate floor of the room was filled with some aromatic herbs – pine needles, rushes, and a sweet flower that Margaery and her cousins didn't know, but which had a strong scent that couldn't go unnoticed. Probably some plant brought from some Essosi place by the tyrants. It had a very strong spice smell. Near the fireplace, a rich Myrish carpet, with designs in red gold. On the walls and ceiling beams, tapestries embroidered with gold and silver threads adorned the room. A bit disconcerting, however, was that the wooden slats were somewhat burned, showing that someone had passed a torch over them; but the tapestries covered it. The carpet was a bit better, but it was preferable not to comment on the dark stain on one of the edges of the fabric.
(Margaery didn't know where such marks could have come from, since no one attacked the place with violence after the fall of the Keep – unless it was while she and her cousins were transferred to a windowless room, the Maidens' Arcade, after the victory of the Targaryen invaders; probably so they wouldn't get hurt – and wouldn't try to escape. Perhaps someone, or even a group, tried to rescue Tommen Baratheon's queen and her cousins, and ended up finding an empty room where they fought until they fell.)
The fireplace was well fed, with large chunks of wood being thrown to feed the flames, turning them into embers that crackled, sparked a bit, and blackened. The expensive vases that sat on the mantel of the fireplace—along with the mantel itself—had disappeared. The chandelier of cut crystals that adorned the ceiling also. Everything had been looted. Whether the objects were given to the king for some reason, as spoils for their accomplices, or simply stolen by the desperate servants of the keep, Margaery couldn't say. She only knew she was grateful for the fireplace fire.
Now, even stripped of the title of queen, Margaery and her companions were free from the watchful and judgmental eyes of the Faith of the Seven, from the constant fear of the Queen Regent, from the meager food and the endless and tedious prayers.
Margaery picked up a fig, something rare in Westeros, and went to the window seat. There were some bonfires lit—like those lit in celebrations of a new year, where people danced, drank, and held bacchanals—made by some envoys of some Essosi divinity. They made bonfires every night. She could still see the glow of some of them through the window, as the rising sun was hidden in the dense winter clouds, despite being blurred by the foggy crystal, looking like faded lights. She imagined that, even if many of the smallfolk disliked the new faith, any form of warmth was welcome in the time of hardship and scarcity that was winter. Some could endure a sermon or two from a foreigner, as long as they could take advantage of the heat. However, that didn't mean the Faith of the Seven would gladly accept a pagan faith. Given what Margaery had experienced when imprisoned, along with her cousins, by those armed fanatics, she doubted the High Septon would find this whole situation anything less than outrageous.
The Faith of the Seven joined Daenerys and her husband, but that won't last long if they don't expel these priests far away. They might even convert some, but the High Sparrow and his cult will never accept this forever…
She gave a smile. Perhaps Cersei's stupidity would yield something good in the end, if the armed Faith revolted.
Elinor sat beside Margaery.
"Do you think the usur… The monarchs will speak with us today?"
She shook her head in denial. She had been informed that Arianne, the princess of Dorne, heir to Prince Doran, would deliver any news they had; but she hadn't seen the Dornish princess again since the fall of the Red Keep. Their only meeting had been when all the survivors of the keep's fall were taken to the Throne Room, to swear fealty to the usurpers. Arianne was near the Throne, almost flanking it, set apart only a few meters by the new kings' guards. A small woman (she deduced this from her size next to the other people around her, though Dornish in general were small), plump, olive skin, beautiful dark hair and shining eyes. She wore a red linen dress with orange lace, a golden sun on the bodice.
"I have no idea. I imagined they would have spoken with us or sent some messenger by now… But nothing. They don't even give us news of our family."
Her cousin also shook her head and put her hands on her face, to hide the tears.
"Oh, Margaery, our life turned into hell since we followed Renly in that stupid war!"
My grandmother was right. She warned my father that that betrayal wouldn't work and that we should stay neutral.
Margaery extended her arm and touched her cousin's shoulder, trying to calm her. It couldn't be easy for her, the poor thing had lost her beloved betrothed in the fall of the keep. Cersei sent him to the front line with the others. Now, her loved one was learning to move on, not even being considered properly a "widow."
Cersei didn't want to let him fight and die beside my father, but allowed him to die defending a castle that she could have simply surrendered without useless fights.
Cersei had done the same with the Redwyne twins; even though they had just been cleared of fornicating with Margaery and her cousins in yet another disgusting scheme of the queen.
Margaery was sure it was the former queen who imprisoned and tortured her poor Blue Bard. It was horrible to see his state at the Faith's trial: without an eye, full of wounds, mad, telling lies about Margaery and her cousins, scandalous stories of nonexistent fornications… In front of several lords and ladies who came to see that horrible trial.
Just like Cersei, Margaery escaped the trial; however, of course, Tommen's mother won only thanks to her damned white knight. She would never escape a normal Faith trial with so much evidence against her.
In fact, Margaery was sure Cersei was involved in the death of Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Kevan Lannister; she just didn't know the reason: Kevan, though he was her uncle, he was the regent and was doing everything to get rid of his niece… But why kill Pycelle?
Pycelle testified – falsely! –, in front of everyone at court, that Margaery had asked him for moon tea. What reason would Cersei have to kill a witness? To incriminate the Tyrells and make it seem like Margaery's house killed a witness to the supposed infidelity of Margaery and her cousins and the only lord who prevented them from having total power?
In any case, that did no harm in the trial of Margaery and her cousins. Unfortunately, no one accused Cersei of anything. And Margaery's father seemed more willing to blame the Dornish; even though she had tried to convince him that Cersei should be tried for it.
But she escaped her sins again, as usual.
And escaped the dragons' fury too, she remembered, by the gods, will she never pay for her sins?
Shortly after, the morning dishes finished, while the young ladies tried to distract themselves with tedious sewing on their simple hoops, Lord Varys came to Margaery and her cousins' room, wearing a damask robe. A green cloak protected him from the cold.
"Oh, hello, beautiful roses." His pale face displayed a gentle toothless smile. His little eyes were small black points, spider-black. The skin was well powdered, giving a ghostly pale aspect. The cheeks were two cherubic mounds.
"Lord Varys…" said Margaery, trying to hide the surprise. Every day was long and monotonous; with all the young women dying of boredom or fear… And Lord Varys had been missing since Tyrion fled and killed his own Tywin. "We weren't expecting a visit from you."
He let out a muffled laugh.
"Indeed, I think you were expecting for our majesties… Or, who knows, an executioner?"
Alla gave a moan of horror at the simple mention, giving a slight tremor like someone cold. Margaery couldn't let that invader scare her cousins.
"Lord Varys," she retorted, more sharply, "if you came to frighten us…"
"Oh, forgive me, Lady Margaery… Or would it be queen widow? Did the marriage to Renly give you that title? Or is his coronation worth nothing too? Well, it must be worth more than Joffrey's or Tommen's…"
Margaery ignored the mockery against her person and the blush rising in her, burning her cheeks. She must be red, she knew.
"Oh, I won't take much of your time," promised Varys, soft-spoken, almost muffled. "I just came to be kind and say that King Aegon will hold a meeting today in the throne hall. You may speak everything you want to him."
Margaery gasped at the news. Her cousin Elinor held her hand; Megga and Alla asked if Margaery would ask for them to go home.
Margaery raised a hand asking for silence.
"Thank you, Lord Varys," she thanked the eunuch. "Will Queen Daenerys be there too?"
Varys nodded.
"The queen will be with her king."
"Excellent." She turned to her younger cousins. "I will beg Queen Daenerys to help us, my cousins."
The Spider seemed not to like that, as she imagined.
"Won't you say anything to the king?" he inquired, curious.
"Of course I will speak with Daenerys's consort," she replied.
Lord Varys arched his eyebrows a bit and then smiled. He seemed to have understood and liked the young maiden's little game.
"Daenerys is the consort," Varys reminded her. "But you'll be happy to know that she and Aegon have reigned as equals."
"Then," retorted Margaery, "I will ask and beg both equally." She curtsied. "Thank you for your announcement, Lord Varys."
He let out another laugh and curtsied.
"I am the one who thanks you," he said. The eunuch took a letter from his sleeve and left it on a side table. "For you, my lady, a summary of all the letters from your family directed to you and your cousins," he explained and left, slapping his silk slippers.
Why should he thank me?, she wondered. She didn't like how that sounded; but she didn't have time to think about it now. She had more important matters to attend to.
"Elinor, get my black dress. Preferably one I didn't wear in my mourning for Joffrey. The simplest and most modest possible." She turned to her younger cousins. "You too. Look for simple black or brown dresses without adornments. No rings, no jewels and necklaces; and no flowers. Just tears."
Margaery pulled a cord to ring the bell; servants would enter in instants to help them dress.
After that, she picked up the parchment and began to read everything. The Redwyne fleet was almost totally destroyed by a storm, right after sinking some Greyjoys. Lord Hightower's daughter refused support. And Oldtown was almost yielding to the attacks.
Her young cousin Elinor, who had the age closest to Margaery's. Did as she ordered and went after one of the dresses in one of the room's chests. The other two didn't delay.
"Do you want me to get a hair net, Margaery?" asked Elinor, innocently, while bringing the black dress.
That made her remember Sansa and Joffrey's death. How the young king clawed at his own throat to breathe. She could remember the muffled sound he made trying to breathe. A shiver ran down her neck.
"No…" she replied. "No nets. Bring me a black veil."
The young ladies braided their hair, using bands dyed in bright green and jewels. Margaery wore a simple black dress, without any lace, to represent mourning for the deaths in the war. Her hair was covered with a simple thin and transparent black silk veil.
X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X
In the cavernous throne hall the dragon skulls had been placed back, black and shining, like onyx or dark diamonds. The teeth were enormous and curved, like twisted daggers. The lights from the torches and candles reflected on the black surface of the bones. There were men with spears and pointed hats guarding the base of the throne. The place was quite intimidating, as usual, but now it was even more uncomfortable to be in. The size and cavernous architecture, the darkened environment by the winter hardship that assailed the world outside, covering even the windows, just as the clouds covered the sun out there, not letting even a sliver of light pass through the dense misty layer. The immense space was darkened, having only the flickering torches to give some light – even so, the place was still gray and somber. The place seemed a bit empty too, which probably made the environment even more uncomfortable to be in. The Great Throne Hall was built to hold up to a thousand people, but, despite still having a numerous court, the amount was quite deficient compared to previous times.
Still as tall and imposing as ever – perhaps even more so now –, even more intimidating than the dragon skulls on the walls, was the Iron Throne. Its steely, gray, spiky and deadly figure made itself felt even without being seen directly. Its twisted blades cut the cold air. That seat had been made by Daenerys and Aegon's ancestor – Aegon I, the Conqueror. He was the first Targaryen King. He, along with his dragon and sister-wives, conquered the Seven Kingdoms for himself. He ordered that all the swords of the enemies who fell before him – or even those who knelt – be taken, melted with the black flame of his dragon, Balerion, the Black Dread, the largest dragon that ever existed.
Margaery cursed the late Targaryen King. Because of him now the kingdoms were in chaos, invaded by his descendants. If he and his wives had stayed on their damned smoking fortress island, everything would be better in Westeros. Damned! Damned!
The traitors to her father, Lord Randyll and Lord Mathis Rowan were beside the Iron Throne. Margaery couldn't hide the anger on her face after seeing them, there, in such a position.
There were also Warrior's Sons on one side of the Throne Hall, stuck to the wall, and soldiers of some order of the red god from Essos on the other. It was like a game of cyvasse, with each enemy piece forming an army in the corners of the board, countering the enemy.
Not long ago, she remembered, it would be Tyrells on one side and Lannisters on the other. However, such times had passed.
Life at court was always like a game of cyvasse, no matter what the pieces were.
There were few lords in the enormous Iron Throne Hall, most from the crownlands; however, most of the court people were women; probably most of them widows. Perhaps that was the reason the hall seemed so empty, since much of the male gender had been killed or was imprisoned—if there were even prisoners besides those of good lineage, who had surrendered or switched sides, and who were in that cavernous place at that moment. Perhaps even the servants had been, mostly, killed.
Margaery tried to find some known lord or some knight, perhaps some new court member, from a house whose previous lord was now dead. Her eyes ended up landing on a subject she had never seen before; he wore the Rosby sigil on his long cloak, whose white tail with black points dragged on the ground, three red chevrons on ermine, as well as displaying the twin towers of Frey on his garments, made of lapis lazuli on the silver-gray doublet. She had never seen that subject, but the face revealed: the weasel-like sucked-in face that the ugly Freys were known for having.
Would this be the ward of the late Gyles Rosby?; she knew that the coughing, deceased treasurer of the Queen (Cersei had a strange habit of changing the names of the Small Council positions, removing the "master" from them and replacing with some title more used in the Free Cities and in Dorne) had a ward who was not of his blood, but she didn't know it was a man from the house of the lords of the Crossing. Well, he must have assumed the position, since he displayed the sigil of the rulers of Rosby; would he have assumed the name too?
She didn't dare ask; as soon as the weasel-faced man noticed Margaery's doe eyes scrutinizing his exterior, he made a grimace that made his sucked-in and chinless face even uglier, moved away from her, swirling his thick ermine cloak. He wasn't the only one in the court to do that.
The court ladies moved away from Margaery and her cousins. They must want to avoid contact with ladies involved in scandals (even if they were declared false) and relatives of traitors.
Megga smiled at a lady from the Reach who made a face and turned away, moving away from them without any shame.
Many other people looked in opposite directions when the young women approached; as if they didn't want to talk to them and hoping none of the young women would recognize them and call for a conversation.
Despite noticing the air of rejection, Margaery scanned the area with her always attentive eyes. She tried to find some distant cousin, a lonely widow or even the infamous Taena Merryweather; all just moved away from her and her companions, pretending to have their attention stolen by something that didn't exist.
"They avoid us as if we had greyscale," complained Elinor, with anger in her voice. "False, all of them."
Is that how Sansa felt?, Margaery found herself wondering.
Thinking of the young Stark made her feel bad; for she remembered how Sansa had become attached to Margaery and her cousins and how they started ignoring her after the marriage to Tyrion.
It wasn't out of malice, she told herself, we couldn't forgive the Lannisters for the slight to our house. I never wanted to do anything. I just followed my family, that's all…
If that's how Sansa felt, she could perfectly understand why she wanted to go to Highgarden and marry Willas.
She didn't want to go just because she was ignored, she remembered, she wanted to get away from Cersei and Joffrey. They mistreated her too much.
But now things were different since that time: Sansa was no longer a victim of Cersei and Margaery's protégé; she was back in the North, reunited with two of her brothers and uncles, married to a handsome lord of the Vale, surrounded by loyal lords of the Vale, North, and Riverlands who swore to protect her and her crown, for the memory of her father.
All this while Margaery no longer had a crown, was far from her brothers, mother, and grandmother, betrayed by the lords who should protect her and who cared nothing for her father's memory; whom they helped kill. Now, it was Margaery who was the court pariah, with no one she could lean on and cry for those she lost.
As for Cersei…
Cersei was the pariah of pariahs in the current court; ignored by all (the only ones who looked at her acted as if she were a ghost or a lioness about to attack everyone; some looked at her sidelong, with hatred in their eyes, blaming her for the current state of the kingdom). Without her pet guard beside her, stripped of her beautiful dresses and crown, Cersei no longer attracted looks of fear, excitement, respect, or even false smiles. Everyone hated her, and weren't afraid to show it.
No one would have fear or respect for Tywin Lannister's daughter anymore.
The former queen wore a simple brown dress and a green velvet hood. Her hair had grown back, but its beauty was gone; now it was still short, with gray details, no longer the long golden curls. A bitter reminder of her Walk of Shame.
Now Taena doesn't find her so attractive, I imagine.
It was obvious to anyone who had seen her in the past that the daughter of the powerful Lord Tywin would never be the same again. She was old, fat, and ugly; and from what Margaery knew, she was little less than a cheap whore. All the respect, fear, and perhaps even admiration that Cersei had in the past was purged from her body in the Walk of Shame.
So be it; because of her I lost my brother, because of her the kingdom fell. And she put the Redwyne twins and my cousins' betrotheds on the front line knowing they would die. Even my virginity and my cousins' was put to the test. Let them give her to the smallfolk, they'll know how to make good use of her.
Cersei's brother was in a worse state: still with the blond mop, the same mismatched eyes and the hideous scar where there used to be a nose… but to make it worse; he now had an ugly and unkempt black beard.
Tyrion was talking with Bronn – the former sellsword who gained a title after helping in the Battle of Blackwater and called himself Lord of Stokeworth since his mother-in-law died and his sister-in-law disappeared –, who wore fine garments for any sellsword, even if still devoid of court manners and still keeping his old mannerisms judging by what could be observed from his misaligned garments and posture. Beside him was his fat and ignoble wife, Lollys, the retard who opened her legs for half of Flea Bottom and bore a bastard offspring—Margaery had heard that the chubby Lady of Stokeworth had another child with the ignominious Bronn, though she thought it unlikely that woman had the capacity to care even for herself, let alone have maternal instincts. In any case, the pitiful wife was ignored while the husband and the dwarf chatted, until the indecorous Lord Bronn said something, with his roguish smile, and he and the twisted Lannister gave a malicious smile upon seeing Margaery.
Perhaps that meant nothing, but it scared her and kept her alert. She just nodded to the dwarf, trying to keep her composure, tried to continue walking. Tyrion boasted to everyone that he killed his nephew; if they discovered Margaery was the real culprit and showed him as a liar, she would be in trouble… Especially since the whole trial that humiliated Tyrion and made him flee and kill his father was her fault; and she didn't delude herself that Tyrion would thank her for it.
But it was the monarchs who interested Margaery: they entered almost thirty minutes after the whole court gathered in the immense hall, accompanied by their Kingsguard, the Hand of the King, and the Dornish princess, Arianne Martell.
Daenerys wore a crown of yellow gold with three dragons, each head of a different rich material (jade for the green dragon, onyx for the black, ivory for the white), with a simple purple dress; but the king, walking beside her with all the pomp he could display, holding his aunt-wife's raised hand, wore black armor with rubies in the shape of a dragon.
Rhaegar wore similar armor, she remembered. Many songs were made in honor of the late prince of Dragonstone. Many still spoke of how the late King Robert's warhammer smashed the heir to Aerys II's breastplate, crushing his embedded dragon. Many men dropped their weapons to pick up the rubies that fell into the river.
But what fascinated Margaery most was the crown on the monarch's brow: dark steel, with square-cut rubies. The metal of the diadem, she knew, was not just any type: it was Valyrian steel. That was the Conqueror's crown, lost long ago in the sands of Dorne when the foolish King Daeron I, the Young Dragon, died in a Dornish rebellion. Her ancestral crown had been lost in the sands of Dorne, according to the songs – but here it was, again, on the head of a Targaryen King.
The King also carried a sword in its sheath. If what Margaery had heard since Aegon landed in the Stormlands was true, that was the ancestral sword of his house – Blackfyre. The sword had been given to every Targaryen King (or heir to this), until the infamous King Aegon IV, in one more of his delusions, gave it to his bastard Daemon Blackfyre. He came to form House Blackfyre, which ended up rebelling against the main house when Daeron II assumed the throne. Daemon died, his house was exiled, the sword taken by it across the Narrow Sea. When House Blackfyre died, the Golden Company – a company of mercenaries descended from supporters of House Blackfyre – remained, as did the ancestral blade.
Considering that the Golden Company now supported the Targaryen cause, Margaery didn't find it strange to believe that the sword wielded by Aegon was indeed the ancient Blackfyre.
No one would dare deny his legitimacy now, she imagined, seeing how Aegon must, to many, resemble his late father, while wielding all the ancestral relics of his family. He and Daenerys were very similar; aquiline nose, amethyst eyes, satin skin, hair that more resembled beaten silver; a frightening symmetrical facial perfection, almost inhuman, as if both were statues. Anyone who didn't know the consanguinity between them could well deduce they were married Targaryen siblings, just like so many before them.
Daenerys sat only a few steps below Aegon. She was, at most, only a year older than Margaery, but already had the power to destroy kingdoms and armies, even having such a youthful and delicate appearance. Her silver hair was braided; besides the crown, she wore silver bells tied in the braids, which sang when the Dragon Queen moved her head.
Beside them was the Hand of the King, Jon Connington; Princess Arianne Martell, the two traitors from Highgarden, and Barristan Selmy.
"The session is in progress," said a young woman with dark skin and amber eyes.
It seemed to take an eternity until she could finally speak with the king and Queen; before that there were just papers for the monarchs to sign, conversations with foreigners in other languages; the septons complaining about the priests, and vice-versa… She noticed that the Warrior's Sons and the fiery warriors were ready to draw their swords and spears and battle right there.
King Aegon raised a hand and asked for silence:
"I know you have different gods, but it is up to both faiths to unite and respect each other, for only then will we have peace in the kingdoms and fight against the infidels." He turned to the high priest with red marks and said: "Benerro, I thank you for your support to me and my queen; but this land is Westeros. You don't have a faith here like the Seven; stop calling the faithful to the Seven impure."
Daenerys didn't seem able to hold back and stood up:
"The same for the Seven," said Dany, addressing the High Sparrow. "We understand and love the High Septon for filling us with holy light and accepting our priests… But you have to understand that there is no longer one faith, only. There are two, three, four… The red faith is one more and just as important."
"We are the chosen of the gods – whichever they may be – to unite Westeros and start a new era of glory and peace. Where smallfolk and nobles can pray to the God they want."
The high priest seemed to accept, but the High Septon didn't like it at all; though he remained silent. The King nodded, smiled, but Margaery saw that he didn't like being interrupted at all.
"My queen speaks with wisdom," said the king, smiling.
After much waiting, finally Margaery's turn came. The king asked her to advance and she did. Stopping very close to the throne and being seen by all. On other days, she would be used to this, but now, she found herself between soldiers of two religions and in front of two dragon lords.
She wished Loras were here, for you were my rock.
But her brother was gone, her father too. She was alone and her family's future depended on her.
She knelt. The Dornish princess gave her a sad smile, but Margaery didn't know if she believed it… Tarly's look was cold, but Mathis Rowan's was of pity and guilt.
Not long ago, she was above them. An undefeated queen. But now…
One day, I will have my revenge. But now, I only have my tears.
"My king and my queen, I come to beg for help," said Margaery, the Reach was being devastated by Greyjoys; clearly the dragon lords wanted their adversaries weakened, to then help them and be loved. "You said you came to bring a new era of peace. So, I implore you, save the kingdom that was my home and my family."
"And why would the king come to help your kingdom?" asked the Hand of the King, Jon Connington; but she knew he had the answer. The Golden Company had lands to claim, Tarly and Rowan were from there, and it was the only kingdom that could help them in winter.
It was theater, then, she would have to enter the same play:
"Oldtown is the place of the maesters' knowledge, it is the home of the rich House Hightower; and one day, it was the home of the Faith of the Seven." She said this last part very loudly. She hoped the Septon heard. "If it falls, the ironborn will destroy its riches and knowledge; everything that would help you. Innocent smallfolk will be killed, raped, or taken as slaves…" This part touched Daenerys, she could tell. "And that's just speaking of Oldtown; for the whole Reach is rich in food and gold. Save my kingdom, and you will have all the support you desire."
"It is the duty of the crown and the Faith to protect the innocents," reminded Barristan Selmy, beside the throne, wearing armor of enameled white scales.
The king and queen thought on the young woman's words, it didn't take long for the king to stand:
"The young lady speaks with perspicacity. My wife and I will go to the Reach, and expel your invaders. Fear nothing, Lady Margaery, the Faith and the crown will unite to protect the faithful of the Seven against these heretics!"
The Warrior's Sons raised their swords and shouted in joy.
But the priest Benerro left, and with him, all the priests and guards. But only Daenerys noticed this… Or only she cared.
He didn't say he would take us home, she realized desperately, He promised to save Highgarden, but nothing about delivering us to my brother! What a scoundrel!
"My king!" called Margaery. "I ask you, my cousins and I are alone and nervous. Surrounded by strange people… If the Faith will defend the kingdom of the Reach, let it also care for us, if it please your grace."
She didn't risk asking to go home and be denied; but thought she could still appeal for her cousins' comfort. That's why she was careful to mention only Aegon and the Faith. Neither would waste time showing power.
"The Faith has no problem with that," said the High Septon.
"Then," declared the king, "if your cousins and you will sleep better that way, so be it, Lady Margaery."
The king ordered the end of the meeting while Margaery was getting up; so much time without moving in the keep left her clumsy, she had some pain in her knees and difficulty rising; since the Faith imprisoned her, she never left the castle to ride or walk in the gardens.
Luckily, a hand was offered to help her, taking her by the arm.
"Thank you…" she said, while rising, until she saw who it was. "Ser Mathis Rowan…"
"My lady," he said, bowing.
At least he still has some respect.
She pulled her arm away.
"Thank you, Ser…" repeated Margaery, and then smiled. "You always know how to be loyal."
That hit him hard. Clearly not used to hearing that from Margaery.
"I'm sorry for what happened to your father…" he commented, embarrassed. "But war is war."
"We all choose sides," she admitted. "You and Lord Randyll fought with us, then revolted."
"We fought for what we thought was the right king!"
"I thought it was Renly… I mean, Tommen. Or did Aegon promise more lands? I heard many houses will lose their lands to the Golden Company; but I imagine yours will be spared, right? Yes, that seems a very just reason to me."
He clearly had an answer for that, but after thinking what to say, he just fell silent.
"My cousins await me," said Margaery, wanting to break the silence.
He bowed his head in a sad bow.
"Until later, Lady Margaery."
"Goodbye, Ser Mathis." She turned and went to her cousins.
When she went to her cousins, she saw that two Warrior's Sons were with them.
"We are sent by the High Septon. We will stand guard."
Margaery nodded. She and her cousins went silently to the room. She thought it better to stay there, and only return to some council session if called.
That made her remember Sansa again. She too was a hostage, always quiet… But now, she was the rebel queen of the Vale and the Riverlands; and her brother Jon was king in the North.
The poor thing is next to be burned…
None of this would have happened if Littlefinger had kept his promise. Margaery and her grandmother thought they would simply think Joffrey choked. At first, everyone was thinking that…
But the damned Lannister queen had to blame her brother. All because of Petyr Baelish: he set everything up for Joffrey and Tyrion to fight, and still took Sansa Stark with him. Even if Tyrion was tried, perhaps they could clear Sansa; then they could force Tywin to marry her to Willas.
I never wanted to harm that girl. She would be freed from this horrible court and be lady of Highgarden… We would be sisters.
She remembered that the young girl had warned her not to marry. She grabbed her arm and insisted that Margaery couldn't marry Joffrey. That Joffrey was a monster.
But she hadn't been shaken. Why would she? She and her grandmother had everything planned.
Loras was in the Kingsguard, but that in no way calmed her grandmother. If Joffrey irritated Loras and asked him to hurt Margaery… Only the gods knew the bloodbath that would be.
But her brother was gone anyway. Loras was young, brave, Margaery's best friend. He and Renly thought to make Robert replace Cersei with her, proving the incest; and when that didn't work, she married Renly.
Of course, they never consummated anything. She simply left the room through another passage and he spent the night with her brother.
She never wanted to be queen. Just do what her beloved father asked and make her brother happy.
When Renly died, it was up to Margaery to calm Loras. She never saw him so shaken.
Perhaps that's why he went to Dragonstone and ignored the dangers. She remembered being very angry and scared for him:
"I am Tommen's queen!" she had said. "I can forbid you!"
"No, you can't," he said. "Cersei is the queen regent."
She had tears in her eyes:
"Loras, please! Don't you see your life is at risk?"
"It doesn't matter. The Reach needs us. I won't let innocent civilians die. My life is worth nothing compared to the loss of smallfolk."
"But it means everything to me! To our father! If he were here…"
"But he's not," he said emphatically. "He won't always be here to protect us, Margaery. Neither will I, sister. That's why you must know how to protect yourself."
And he left her without even a last goodbye…
X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X
Upon arriving at the chambers, she saw that the Septon was quick in his promise: a septa and some young maidens in white were waiting for them.
Now we're hostages of the Faith again.
It was the fault of that wretched former mother-in-law of hers. Everything was always her fault.
I should have poisoned her too. It would have spared all the Seven Kingdoms from her madness and incompetence.
After some time sewing with her cousins, Alla had the courage to speak:
"Do you think the king will free us?"
"I hope so. If it pleases him, of course…"
It was a no. But she couldn't speak openly. She was afraid.
X O X O X O X O X O X O X X O X O X O X O X O X O
After saying her prayers, Margaery went to her bed to sleep beside Elinor. It took her a while to fall asleep, with a thousand things on her mind. Highgarden, her family, the Greyjoys…
But, when she was finally about to fall asleep and closed her eyes; she remembered Varys.
"I am the one who thanks you," echoed in her mind again…
And then, she remembered she had been informed that it was Arianne who would give her news.