( Margaery POV )
The wind carried the sounds of birds and the scent of roses, with Margaery doing her best to bask herself in the calm that enveloped Highgarden.
Here, war was but a distant distraction, something that plagued the realm, but if you lived around the walls of the former seat of the Gardeners, you would have a hard time believing there was a war, to begin with.
It is here, in her family home, that Margaery Baratheon sat, waiting for what her father would decide to do next. Well…directed by her grandmother and Willas, of course.
The woman that many called the "Rose of Highgarden" rested one of her small hands on her belly. She could feel the child growing inside her, as her stomach had already begun to swell.
She felt a knot tighten in her throat.
She felt angry. Angry and stupid.
Not towards her child, but towards herself.
She had acted too callously, and thus, she had compromised a lot of political capital her family had gained. It did seem to be the right thing to do, though, to secure Renly's line and give him a son. Push him over the other pretenders, who had nothing. Her family had even celebrated the news, but then…then came the news of the Battle of Storm's End.
Renly had been grievously wounded, and Loras, blinded with rage and sorrow, decided to blindly seek justice himself. In the end, the only thing that he found was the cold embrace of the Stranger.
She and her family had grieved at the news of Loras' death. Ohm how she had cried at the loss of her brother! The flower of chivalry and pride of the Reach, cut down so young. Margaery never had the time to embrace her brother one last time.
And her house's grief unfortunately was one of many in the Reach with many more knights losing their lives in the slaughter that took place beneath the walls of Storm's End.
If it wasn't for the actions of Randyll Tarly and Mathis Rowan, their forces might have even faced complete defeat, and many more families would have grieved the loss of a son, father or uncle.
And the bad news kept coming. After Loras, Renly succumbed to his injuries not long after. Everything she and House Tyrell had worked for…to place Tyrell blood on the throne and thoroughly control the Seven Kingdoms…gone in a heartbeat. And now, she carried the supposed child of a dead pretender.
The news and the advancing stage of her pregnancy had turned her back towards Highgarden, and away from the bloodshed further east.
She had thought to see her family disappointed in her, yet Willas let nothing of the sort transpire. He comforted her and had told her that everything would eventually fix itself. They still had a relatively intact force, and even though Renly had perished, his claim lived on through her child.
It was Garlan that took her out of her thoughts. Dressed as a knight, her youngest remaining brother entered the room and cleared his throat.
"Marge." he said, softly. "Willas and grandmother wish to talk. Do you need help getting there?"
"No." she shook her head. "I can manage."
This wasn't particularly reassuring for Garlan, who stayed next to her as she made her way downstairs, through the staircases and halls of Highgarden. Pregnancy had not weakened her, and she would not let it do so anyway.
She walked through the beautiful gardens who were teaming with the most beautiful flowers brought from all over the realm and even as far as Essos and Volantis, the glass gardens and the exotic birds and animals gathered from far and wide, some of them being gifts or tokens of friendship coming from as far away as Qarth.
Past all of these wonders came the more isolated sights of Highgarden, places where one could enjoy time away from the usual busy gardens and courtyards of the castle.
A few small septs were there, as well as the godswood, where large weirwood trees had grown, a small reminder of the old faith of the Gardeners and a welcome sight for any Northener traveling through these lands.
From there, she took a few more turns through halls decorated with paintings depicting scenes from the long history of the Reach, intertwined with scenes of hunts, legends, and tales of the Seven-Pointed Star.
The room she finally entered was a smaller one than the usual they used for their family reunions. Placed adjacent to a small, private, garden, adorned with a fish-sculptured fountain in its center, Margaery enjoyed the relative tranquility of the room. Placed so close to the heart of the castle, yet completely isolated from any outside distractions.
What struck her first, though, was that neither her father nor mother were there. Instead, there were only two people. The first was her grandmother, covered in black from head to toe, sitting on a chair with half a dozen pillows on it. Next to her, sitting on a small seat covered in carved wooden roses, was her oldest brother Willas.
He was sitting still, his well-kept small beard just barely touching the cane he kept in front of him with both hands touching the pommel.
Not a word was spoken as she and Garlan entered the room, taking a seat closer to the small garden. Willas, though, gave her a slight smile as she came in.
"Hello, sister." Willas finally greeted, "How well are you faring?"
"As well as could be, Willas." she answered truthfully, "The baby seems to be doing well, and so am I."
Willas nodded, while her grandmother stayed as stoic as ever in the corner. It wasn't a surprise, though, as she'd suggested Margaery take moon tea as soon as Renly's death had reached them. Unfortunately, the maester had advised against this rather raucous course of action, which could have permanently damaged her capacity to birth another child after this…or worse.
"Why are we here?" Margaery finally asked.
"We need to discuss the future actions our family will take in this war," Willas answered matter-of-factly.
"Robb Stark is marching to retake his lands, Edmure Tully is licking his wounds, Tywin Lannister has lost another host, and the Stormlands have bled dry. We have lost some men, but right now, we remain the strongest force on the Continent."
"Should Renly have died and you been without child," Margaery's grandmother started, "We could have rushed to the aid of the Lannisters in full force, and it would have allowed us to essentially control the Iron Throne and appear as the capital's saviours."
"Have we not bled at Storm's End?" she asked.
"We have." Garlan nodded back. "However, our foot is untouched and father commands fifteen thousand mounted knights still. We still command a sizable force."
"In any case…" her grandmother continued, "With you, my dear, bearing a child, we now are in a peculiar situation. Speaking of which, I still wonder how you convinced your husband, considering his proclivities…"
"It doesn't matter." Willas interrupted her. "It only matters what the people believe. As long as it resembles Renly in any way…which it will, correct?"
"Yes, Willas." Margaery nodded. "I do not doubt for a moment that it will not bear all of the Baratheon looks."
Her grandmother looked unconvinced.
"This is a dangerous game, Willas." she pointed out
"Grandmother." Willas countered. "So far, Margaery's pregnancy is well-known and no rumour has come forward of a lordling or lord having taken her maidenhood, let alone give her a bastard. I have no reason to doubt that she is indeed carrying Renly's heir. And as to his proclivities…you could still have an heir. It has been done many times in the past."
"Yes, no need to remind me, I know…" grandmother grimaced. "But if the child does not have the Baratheon looks, just like that bastard at Storm's End, we are in trouble."
"Trust me, grandmother." Margaery spoke up defiantly, "It will."
"What now?" Garlan asked.
"We gather our forces, lick our wounds, and wait for Margaery's child to be born." Willas shrugged. "It is the only sensible thing that we can do. This war has bogged down to a stalemate, and neither Tully nor Tywin are able to wage war upon one another."
"And when it is born?" Margaery asked.
"If it is a boy…" Willas contemplated. "We will discuss backing his claim. If it's a girl, then we will use her to gain the Stormlords' loyalty."
"Won't we back her claim?" she asked.
"Don't be silly, girl!" her grandmother scoffed. "Ever since Maegor-with-tits, the kingdoms seem to be repulsed by the idea of a woman sitting on that chair. Gods forbid one of them turns out to be a better ruler than all of the Targaryens combined!"
"Your child, sister…" Willas looked her in the eyes, "...is the last legacy of the Baratheons. Shireen Baratheon has no claim and no army. We have an army. We can install your child as the lady of Storm's End, and use her to bargain an alliance with other houses, as well as securing the Stormlands."
"And then?" she asked, intrigued.
"We go and save the lion's pelt." her grandmother laughed. "Don't look at me like that, Garlan. The lions will need our help. Joffrey is still unbetrothed…"
"Yes, but how will we keep it that way?" Garlan asked. "Tywin isn't completely stupid. He will have heard of Margaery's pregnancy."
"You'd think he would turn down eighty thousand swords?" Willas asked. "All we need to do is start to negotiate right now, and should your child turn out to be a boy…cancel them immediately, and tie ourselves to the Tullys or the Starks instead."
Margaery could see that both Willas and grandmother had thought this through. And in both cases, they would end up with Tyrell blood on the throne.
If it was a boy, she would be the Queen-mother, and the Tyrells would have absolute power over the throne and regency. If she birthed a girl, they would exert control over the Lannisters and essentially seize power for themselves.
A smart ploy. And she would have to play the part as usual. But doing so wasn't a problem. Willas and grandmother would scheme, Garlan would fight, father would boast and cover their true intentions, while she…she would play the part that she'd always known how to play.
That of the caring and somewhat stupid girl, to gain the trust of everyone around her and use it to wrap everyone around her fingers.
Yet there was something missing.
"How about Dorne and the Vale?" she asked. "Neither has committed any forces yet."
"Lysa Arryn seems to have completely isolated herself." Willas replied. "I do not think we will see the Knights of the Vale anytime soon, and in any case, we can overrun them should they finally declare for the Starks and Tullys. As for Dorne…the matter is a little more complicated."
"After the failure of their alliance with us, through Renly, it seems that Doran Martell has tied his youngest son to Myrcella Baratheon." her grandmother chuckled. "It is certainly not a match that I was expecting."
Margaery raised an eyebrow. From what she had seen from the Dornish, they despised the Lannisters with every ounce of their beings. The mere mention of the name would turn their faces to a scowl. Why would they agree to such a betrothal?"
"I know not." Willas scratched his head. "Prince Doran has also called his banners and his hosts stand in the passes.
Father has taken the opportunity to immediately reinforce Nightsong and Blackraven, especially with both of these castles lacking lords since Bryce Caron has died at Storm's End and Beric Dondarrion has disappeared in the Riverlands.
More will come once we have completely secured Brightwater after the Florent treachery..."
"Bloody fool." grandmother shook her head. "This move might alienate our Stormlander allies by making them think that we intend to seize both of these castles for ourselves and place loyal lords. We needed to work with our allies, not go over their heads. The last thing we need is the Stormlands declaring for Stannis' daughter."
"I agree that it is rushed…but Dorne has called its banners. But for now, this is not a bad military decision." Garlan countered.
"It will be a political mess later, Garlan." Willas countered. "Be happy you are not going to be the one dealing with it."
"Should we consider Dorne as hostile?" Margaery asked with a sigh. She knew that invading Dorne was one thing the Reach could easily do. Holding it on the other hand…
"Interestingly, I do not suppose so." Willas chuckled.
"A moon after the announcement of Princess Myrcella's betrothal to Prince Trystane, we have received news from Dorne which indicated that Prince Quentyn, Prince Doran's heir, had killed Amory Lorch by giving him the same treatment he did to the late princess Rhaenys with his party apparently gutting the man, and sent his head to Sunspear."
"How did he manage to do that?" Margaery gasped, remembering the short prince that sat in front of her at Bitterbridge.
"Lorch was captured by a bandit group and sold to the Dornish, who were too eager to pay the price for his head," Willas replied. "What's more, well, princess Arianne is still due to come here."
"This hasn't been called off?" Garlan asked.
Margaery smiled. Willas was always visibly uncomfortable when talking about the Dornish princess. She had a…reputation after all.
And the fact that she had been disinherited in obscure circumstances hadn't helped that reputation either. From what she could gather from prince Quentyn at Bitterbridge, it seemed like this was a decision taken as a result of something the princess had done…but what?
"I'd say it is a good opportunity for us." grandmother made her voice heard again. "It will give us an insight into what exactly has been going on in Dorne and possibly expand our…partnership. This betrothal is a chance for us."
"It's not a betrothal…" Willas corrected her. "It's a meeting, so that we may get to know each other and determine if a betrothal is possible."
"Come on, Willas, I know you are smarter than this!" her grandmother grinned. "This visit of hers has a betrothal written all over it. All you have to do is use your natural charm and little words of yours to enthrall her."
"Thank you, grandmother," Willas replied. "I shall do my utmost, and you know it."
"Good. I expected nothing less." her grandmother nodded. "And work on your swordplay. The princess has a reputation and it would do good to impress her."
"I could help if you wish." Garlan offered, while Margaery bit her cheeks to keep herself from laughing, her poor brother walking into that trap. "Raising a sword isn't that difficult and…"
"I meant a very different kind of swordplay, Garlan." her grandmother countered, tone cold as ice, "But your offer is very appreciated."
Garlan blushed, while Willas just laughed it off.
"Should the worst come to pass, the princess would make a valuable hostage to keep Dorne in line…" Willas whispered. "And it could give us a claim to Sunspear should a marriage be confirmed and celebrated."
"Good boy." grandmother straightened up. "As long as we keep your father from doing anything too rash, all we have to do is wait and extend our influence in the Stormlands. Garlan will leave for Storm's End to bolster the garrison there in a moon."
"And me?" Margaery asked in a soft-spoken voice.
"You can stay at Highgarden, dear," she swiftly replied. "You are the most precious thing House Tyrell has right now, after all.
Make sure you stay healthy and give birth to a strong child. As for you Willas, be sure to seduce that Dornish girl. She might be the key to us holding the entire southern half of the continent."
"I'll work on it, grandmother," Willas answered simply, tapping his fingers on his cane.
Margaery turned her head towards the small garden, watching the fountain at its center, the water slowly pouring out of the sculpted fish's mouth and onto the bowl underneath. A sense of calm enveloped her.
The Seven Kingdoms might think that the worst is behind them, and they all can lick their wounds in peace.
But slowly and surely, as they have done for three hundred years, the roots of House Tyrell run deep and strong.
And soon enough, they will choke every one of the kingdoms, so that their house may finally bloom. She would make sure that the legacy of House Tyrell would be one that lasted for generations to come.
Willas, Garlan, father, mother, grandmother, and even her cousins, along with herself, all had a role to play.
And they would play that role to perfection.