Chapter Text
Olenna
News of yesterday's events with the attack and King Aegon's declaration spread like wildfire. Word had even reached as far as Riverrun by then. Rumors came from the city, both from Flea Bottom and those in the rich districts about Aegon's unbeatable skill against a hundred men. Of course that was hubris, but the truth was still impressive and terrifying at the same time. Sixty four men had gathered together in arms to kill Daenerys and the King when he appeared, and of those sixty four, the King had killed twenty one. The blood of those men nearly covered every inch of Aegon's body, and when he rode back to the Red Keep, the people saw him. And now, they spoke of his newfound title but only in whispers, for they feared it so.
Aegon the Red, named for staining himself with the blood of his enemies, but never his own.
There was no small council meeting that day, or in the evening, or the morning after. Aegon had cleaned himself, his wolf, and his sword, and shut himself away. He took no food and no company.
Olenna didn't know what to make of this. There was no man she met that was like the King. When she saw him in the Throne Hall yesterday, shedding a tear after his declaration, she realized what kind of man he was.
To nearly every single person, power is the sweetest taste they will ever know. Its attraction is more beautiful and the temptation is so enormous.
Aegon VI Targaryen was probably the only one who feared power rightfully so. The power of the throne and his own. Through such revelation she found, pity for him birthed within her. She had never carried a blade or watched battle, she only saw the fools who reveled in it and enjoyed the stain of their enemy's blood.
It wasn't until noon that the King finally came from his bedchamber, brooding and quiet, but going about the day like any other since he arrived and took his birthright. Such actions made many nervous. They didn't know what to expect of their King now. They were afraid.
But, when it came time for business, Aegon had his mind straight. The representative from the Iron Bank had just arrived, his ship had docked at the harbor in the afternoon.
With the stroke of her quill, Olenna signed the last trade agreement for the day. With peace and stability forming over Slaver's- the Bay of Dragons, it was high time that some new relationships were made with the new powers born. With the elimination of slave trade, those people needed to find business elsewhere and with a new dawn for Westeros, there wasn't a more perfect opportunity.
Olenna stacked her papers together once the ink had dried and handed them off to her servant to take them where they had to go. That was it for papers, now it was time to meet with the King and that high nosed ass from the Iron Bank.
There was so much to do today. As far as her duties as Master of Coin, they were little. But as far as being a grandmother to her grandchildren, they were high. Loras had arrived this morning with dire need to speak with her and they both agreed that he needed to settle in to calm his thoughts first. He looked in terrible distress and Olenna would have put everything off for the day for him were he not the one to say he needed an hour or two to be ready.
Whatever the matter was, and she had several feelings and ideas about what they were, she had to focus on her duties to the crown first. This business with the Iron Bank would be the last of it.
Olenna met with the King in the Small Council Chambers and Tycho Nesteros strode in after her.
"Welcome," The King greeted them both, "it's about time we finally resolved these debts."
"Of course," Tycho said as he took a seat and the King snapped his fingers. One of the smiths who had been working on the Valyrian Steel presented himself with a well sized chest in his arms. The smith set it on the table and opened it, presenting the contents to both Olenna and Tycho.
Five ingots of polished Valyrian Steel rested comfortably in the chest, enough to make five swords.
"This is one of twenty chests we have already sold to various buyers in Essos," The King explained. "The profits will of course go to repaying the crown's debts to the Iron Bank in full."
And refilling the royal coffers with plenty for the first time in ages. Of course, for how long was probably the question. With how many projects the King had to fix the city, raise his army, and supplies for the expedition north, they would need millions. With the Valyrian Steel and the new trade deals that were going to be established with Essosi realms, hells, even Yi Ti and Asshai if their luck held, they might barely get what they need without further loans.
Olenna gestured for her servant to come forward with the document prepared for the Iron Bank. He set it out in front of Tycho and he read it over. "This seems to be in order. The percentage of funds going to the Iron Bank from the sales are enough. I assume Lady Tyrell is the witness to this documentation?"
"Aye. So you accept?"
Tycho smiled so smugly. The amount of interest on these loans was atrocious. Petyr Baelish better be burning especially hot in the Seven Hells for this. "All we need now is a quill." Tycho was the first to sign the document and then the King followed suit. He melted a small pool of wax next to his signature and stamped it with his signet ring.
Olenna finally signed as the witness and with that, the business and pestering with the Iron Bank was at its end.
"I must admit," Tycho said as he gathered his own documents together as well as the finalization of the payments, "We are going to miss the interest on the loans from the crown. Lord Tywin has gained us much profit these past few years."
"Hm." the King said nothing, only looking at the banker with unphased eyes.
Tycho cleared his throat. "I'll have this delivered to the Bank and we shall have everything wrapped up assuredly. Thank you for your business, your grace." Tycho bowed deeply and then swiftly walked out of the room.
"I hate those damn weasels," Olenna said, "they wear no crowns and yet they act like the highest Kings in the world. Idiots."
"Maybe we should make plans for a bank in Westeros. But I'm not going to name it. The Valyrian Steel Bank just doesn't roll off the tongue as nice."
Olenna smirked as she believed that was the first time she had heard the King tell a jape since meeting him. "It's an idea and we'll have the means to make it reality. But if you wouldn't mind, your grace, I have some urgent family matters to attend to for the rest of my day."
The King nodded. "Loras?"
This ability of his to know things was starting to surprise her less, but it still did. "I'm worried about him. His letter to me before he returned here…" She sighed with a heavy heart, "I hate the position he's forced into."
"I know the feeling," the King said as he stood, "if he needs a friend to talk to, I'll listen." That was kind of the King to offer. He took his leave after that.
Olenna sat back in her chair and brushed a hand down her face. "Damn you, Cersei." That bitch threw everything into chaos when she blew up the Sept and sifting through the ashes for her family's future was not revealing enough.
Loras had been so diligent and dutiful to their family when he had to court Sansa and unfortunately Cersei as well. But charm and sex were two very different things. Once someone is on their own and in charge of themselves, things become more serious. It was like losing a blanket on a cold night and the warmth of security and comfort was gone.
It was not a long wait for Olenna when Loras finally presented himself to her in the Small Council chambers. The moment she saw him, she witnessed a heartbreaking moment of her grandson appearing as happy as he usually was to see her, but then suddenly frowning and on the verge of tears.
"Loras," Olenna stood up with open arms, "come here and let me give my grandson a hug."
He cracked a smile and did as she asked. Hugging her grandchildren felt more special than before, ever since she lost so many of them to fire and death. She'd never get to hug her son like this again. As much a dolt he was, Mace was her blood. She loved him and the babes he raised.
They both sat down at the table. "How is your position as Master of Coin?" asked Loras.
"Not entertaining, but it keeps me on my toes and we're quite more productive than the last two who had it. We just cleared away fifteen years of debt." There was a little bit of pride in her voice and it poked at Loras in a way that made Olenna wish she hadn't. "You wrote that you stood atop the tower window, but not what happened to lead you there. Loras, please tell me."
Loras was shivering. "I know what my duty is, to you, to Margaery, our family, and our people… but I can't do it. I can't. I tried. With all my heart and will I did. I… went to a brothel and bought an hour with a girl. But when we were both naked… and she touched me, I couldn't take it. I ran out as fast as I could and just hid myself under a tree so no one could see what a fool I am." Tears began to fall from his eyes and he covered it with his hands. "I tried again but I couldn't do it. I'm a fucking swordswallower who killed our House-"
"Loras Tyrell," Olenna hissed, "you understand one thing that is perfectly clear and that is you are not killing our House because of this. Cersei has bled us but we are still here. I am here, you are here, and Margaery is here. We are Tyrells, and we will always grow strong. Am I clear?"
Her grandson's whole body was shaking, but there was enough movement in his head for her to see that he nodded. "I'm sorry."
Olenna sighed and leaned forward to him. "You are who you are, Loras. Sometimes we're different and in this part of the world, it's a sin to be that way. It's not fair but it's how things are. All we can do is act on what we can with the time we have given to us."
"But I don't know what to do, Grandmother."
"Then tell me what you want to do."
He looked away. "I just… Plenty of people had my… proclivities even in my position. They were able to have children… but I can't just-"
"Fuck them. We're talking about you and you only, Loras. I don't care what some cunt who isn't you did. As the head of House Tyrell, what is your decision?"
Loras took his hands away, revealing red eyes and cheeks stained with streaks of tears. "I don't want to be Lord of Highgarden. I can't. I don't have the strength to be what I'm supposed to be. But… I won't just run away from you and Margaery. I want to do what I know I can. I'm a knight, and I will still be here to watch over you both. I promise."
Olenna nodded, taking hold of her grandson's hands and gently stroking her thumbs. "Then that's what you will do. If it's not meant for you, then it's not." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "This isn't the death of our House, Loras. The roots of our name are not cut away."
He blinked. "They're not?"
She smiled. "I'll write to your aunt Janna at New Barrel and we'll discuss things with her. She has two sons and three daughters from her husband and they're all healthy as horses." It was by sheer fucking luck her daughter, goodson, and grandchildren were delayed on their way to King's Landing for Loras's trial. Olenna had thought Aegon sent a rider or a raven to them like he did for her, but he didn't. It was just odd and interesting circumstances that it happened.
Or perhaps the gods were real. One of the few questions she didn't feel clever enough to answer.
"Uncle Jon… he's genial but proud if I remember him right. Would he be fine with my cousins…"
"Taking the Tyrell name?" She finished for him. "Bah, going from New Barrel to Highgarden? Even a simpleton wouldn't pass up that chance. He isn't even of the main branch of the Fossoways so it would be like him finding a cow that shat gold turds."
Loras finally showed a smile after so much grief, but a frown returned shortly after. "I didn't want things to be this way."
"I know you didn't. But they are how they are. Now I want you to go and see the rest of the day with joy in the heart and a smile on your face. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and I mean it, which means it's the absolute truth." Loras rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Believe it or not, the King offered some of his time for you if you wished to talk."
Loras leaned back. "Truly?" he eyes went out the window as he scratched the stubble of his beard. "I heard about what happened yesterday. The things the people talk about now, are they true?"
Olenna sighed. "He is a good man, Loras."
Sansa
The clouds drifting across the sky in mid-afternoon heralded rain. With how dark and severe they looked, few could think otherwise. A drizzle had begun during dinner, with a steady pattern afterwards as those in the Red Keep withdrew to their solars and offices to go about their pre-bedtime duties. Those of Queen Daenerys to write dispatches to Dragonstone while those of Jon's council busied themselves with ravens of Rickon's education, supply issues at the Wall, and the common problems befitting those trying to manage a city of half a million souls.
Mentally exhausted at her duties of essentially being Jon's spare Hand alongside Davos' official position, Sansa thought she would collapse into her bed and sleep with the dead. But here she was, tossing and turning. Eyes wide awake even when she tried to close them.
Sighing, she sat up, keeping the quilt and sheet wrapped around her gown-clad form as she looked around. A flash of lightning illuminated the empty bedchamber, bringing attention to the howling wind and pouring rain. But Sansa had grown up during fierce winter blizzards. She was used to such sounds… as she was used to sleepless nights as memories of Ramsay and Joffrey played over and over in her mind. Sometimes they were vivid memories, sometimes they were distorted delusions of reality where her tormentors had achieved victory.
The worst was of Ramsay slowly flaying Jon alive. Her beloved brother, her cousin and Targaryen Prince by birth. Those nights she wanted to die.
Thankfully, none of those had happened tonight. She was not drenched in sweat from a nightmare or had her heart beat out of her chest. She just couldn't sleep. The bed was cold, and for once in her life the lack of a warm body next to her was driving her mad. Sighing, Sansa slid out from underneath the covers and grabbed her cloak.
Sansa took a lantern and left her bedchamber, knowing exactly where she was going. All entrances and exits to the residential wing of Maegor's Holdfast were guarded and sealed off at night, so she was alone.
"Oh," she murmured as a pair of red eyes stared up at her from outside Jon's room. "Hello, Ghost." The direwolf cocked his head. "Can I… go inside. I want to speak to my brother… my cousin… ugh, Jon." It still tripped her up sometimes, not knowing what to call him. Luckily, Ghost's tongue just swiped over his nose and allowed Sansa to step over him. Pulling open the latch of the chamber to enter.
The fire was still crackling, but there wasn't another sound. He must be asleep. Behind, Ghost wedged himself between her and the doorway to slink in. Immediately going for the rug beside the hearth and collapsing on his side.
It made Sansa giggle softly.
Setting the lantern down on an ornate table in the room that once belonged to Cersei, Sansa approached the thick furs and quilts atop the bed. "Jon," she murmured. "Jon, are you asleep?" A stupid question, but if he wasn't…
A grunt from the other side of the bed nearly made her jump. Tip-toeing around, a put out huff left her mouth.
"Oh, Jon, you dumb sod." Curled up atop another fur rug of a bear undoubtedly killed by Robert on one of his hunts was Jon, yet another pelt draped over him for warmth. "At least you had the sense to put a pillow under your head this time." A massive bed fit for a King and one, mayhaps four lovers to share with him, and Jon slept on the floor like he was still on a range with the Night's Watch.
Sansa could slap him.
In the end, she decided to sit on the bed and lay down. First removing her cloak and using it like a blanket. Outside, it continued to pour rain, but the chambers were warm and calm, just like her favorite memories of Winterfell.
"Jon?" Sansa whispered but there were only the silent breaths of his slumber that responded. She paused, thinking about everything that was happening, everything that was going to happen, and where she would be in all of it. She could only see herself alone. But tonight, she could pretend she wasn't.
"When I saw you ride through the gates of Castle Black, it was the happiest I ever felt since I had been forced to watch father die. Seeing you, and Rickon, come back alive, I truly knew that I wasn't alone anymore, we weren't alone." She turned her head over to him, checking to see if he was waking up but he wasn't. "It made me wish you weren't my brother so I could kiss you for bringing us back together." She giggled to herself, twirling a lock of red hair with her finger. Something she hadn't done since her father's arrest. "If Cersei knew she would never stop laughing about it. And then when that night came you told the truth about yourself… I felt so many things. I realized so many things, but not enough."
Swallowing, Sansa found her voice dry and her body trembling even under the cloak. "The gods have a sense of humor, don't they?" Her laugh didn't reach her eyes. "All my life, I dreamed of a golden Prince who would be the one for me… yet that Prince wasn't in the south but beneath my nose the entire time." She choked back a sob. "You always were the Prince I had always dreamed of. Not by winning tourneys or dancing with me, but by being there for me."
Eyes closed, Sansa wanted to look down at Jon, to see his sleeping form again. But she couldn't. Guilt welled through her, guilt and shame. From both her childhood treatment of him as some embarrassment to what she could've done to him, had planned to do somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind as she fled Ramsay. As she was in his camp before Littlefinger's demise and Jon calling her out. The best thing he had ever done.
Her head shot over to Jon when she heard him move, but he was just rolling onto his back, still asleep. She sighed in relief but then her heart began to pound in her chest. She started to move without a second thought, slowly and quietly off the bed and down to the floor. She was right next to Jon, her face inches away from his. He was so handsome like this.
She leaned down and closed her eyes, closing the distance between them. But then she immediately stopped short and opened her eyes. What was she doing? She pulled away as soft as she could and got up. She felt as though she had lost her memory of what she just did, asking herself why she was on the floor with her lips almost a hair's distance away from Jon's? But the feeling remained and a great sorrow took over. She was still Jon's broken and abused sister to him, and he was still too much a Stark, and she was no Daenerys either.
Who would want a ruined woman like her when the Dragon Queen was right there. Asking to be taken?
Sansa took her cloak and glided over to the door, closing it quietly behind her and sobbing to herself as she fled to her chambers.
Jon
It wasn't until all that filled the chambers was the sound of the howling rain that Jon blinked his eyes open and sighed. How much of a fool was he to not have seen any of this? He thought he knew enough about women to notice the kinds of signs, but he had completely blinded himself to see them from Sansa.
Jon brought a hand to his face and almost slapped it. He should have addressed her the moment he awoke when she cracked his door open. Were it not for the sound of her voice talking to Ghost, he would have reached for his dagger and jumped to his feet. But instead he remained silent and listened, thinking he should because he knew he hadn't been the best of brothers to her recently. He still had a part of himself latched onto the hate he held for what she had done to him… no, not her, not the new Sansa.
But still, he felt like shit for what just happened. Letting her open her heart to him only for it to end in tears. He should have woken up to her and said something to settle things at least, or done anything but just lay there and let her unknowingly bear her soul to him like that. It was cruel of him. She never would have done that if he was awake, would she? But then again, why didn't he do any of that when she came so close to kissing him? If he did wake up then what would she have expected him to do? Embrace her tightly as uncle Ned would've and not let it be like this…
"She hated me…" he said to himself. "I was nothing but one in the way of what she really wanted…" In another lifetime at least, but this time she never had Littlefinger's words poisoning her mind and contention for power from Daenerys.
"Bran," Jon whispered but received no response immediately. This was a first. "Bran?"
'Yes?' The Raven's voice appeared, but he sounded tired.
"Did you know about this? About Sansa?"
'This is the only time she ever admitted something like this in either times, Jon. A secret as guarded as yours.'
"Is she manipulating me?" Jon asked hesitantly… "I mean…" He needed to know and he hated thinking so cynically but considering what the Sansa of his past became…
'No, she is not.'
"Are you sure?"
'Power was what mollified her pain then, but you made her confront it. You made her strong. She will be grateful for it.'
Jon sighed and rested his arm under his head. "I can understand, but I can't really believe it… or maybe I don't want to. Being hated is a lot easier than being loved."
'Margaery Tyrell is suggesting she look for love in women instead of men now.'
Jon's eyes widened and he almost felt the nerve to sit up in shock. "That's… something I suppose."
'You don't sound too relieved,' the Raven pointed out, 'perhaps a little disappointed?'
Jon's eyes narrowed at the force watching over him. "Since when did you start to know what feelings are again? Sansa can love who she wants to. But if it's me, then she'll find only sorrow. It's better this way. Help her move on if you have to."
'Only if I must.' The Raven's presence vanished and Jon was left alone again.
Jon's attention turned to Ghost who climbed atop his bed and hung his head over the side down at Jon, giving him a grumbling noise that almost felt like annoyance.
"It's too soft for me, boy."
Another grumble came from the beast.
"Alright, I'll try." Jon picked himself from the comfort of the stone floor and pulled himself onto the great bed and under the fine sheets. The instant he layed back it was like sinking into powder snow. It felt like he was stuck falling.
He was ready to give up and return to the floor but then a faint scent was caught in his nose. It was an aroma… familiar. It must have been one of Sansa's oils she used to perfume herself. Jon let himself ponder the scent for a moment and he didn't realize how nice it was until he let it into his mind for thought. He lingered on the scent long enough to drift into a soft sleep.
Margaery
The dampness of the autumn storm last night was still present in the afternoon air, but the bright sunshine and clear skies were doing well to evaporate all the puddles and droplets littering the gardens. It was a blessing that today was as beautiful as it was because Margaery had been planning a luncheon with Sansa for some time and she had also invited the Dragon Queen herself. This was going to be their first meeting and Margaery was looking forward to this day with much anticipation.
She had the pavilion that overlooked the bay reserved for them that afternoon. Everything was set up and she decided to have some time alone to prepare herself for a social meeting with the Dragon Queen herself. Despite not being Queen anymore, Margaery still owed it to the King to try and do what she could to find an accord between him and Queen Daenerys.
So here she was, scarf tied around her face and dress covering her frame in the style of her grandmother's. It felt… constricting, as well as painful given all she had to cover up… In truth though, this was more or less a distraction for her, something to take up her time so there would be less of it to be afraid of tonight. Everything was arranged and ready, but that didn't stop her from having doubts and second thoughts.
Sansa was the first to arrive with two of her Stark Bannermen in tow. She looked so out of place between the two soldiers, a beauty between two beasts. Northmen aren't savages, but they could use a trim at least. But Sansa had a slight puffiness in her cheeks and redness in her eyes. She was crying last night, but why?
They didn't have time to talk alone because immediately after Sansa found her way to the pavilion, Queen Daenerys appeared around a hedge with two of her own Unsullied guard in tow as well as Missandei and Naath. It was clear that Lady Missandei was whispering concerns to Daenerys, concerns most likely about Sansa which Margaery deduced because of the Lady's eyes constantly darting between her Queen and Sansa. Before the Dragon Queen and Translator turned the corner to the pavilion, they stopped and looked at each other, Daenerys giving her assurances to Lady Missandei with a soft hold of their hands and gentle smile. The Translator nodded and returned on the path whence she came and Daenerys finally joined Margaery and Sansa.
Margaery didn't fail to notice the look of suspicion on Missandei's beautiful face, mostly directed at Sansa.
"Good afternoon, your grace," Margaery welcomed and the three women sat down at the table prepared for them.
"I'm grateful to have received an invitation, my lady." Daenerys responded. "I must admit I've been looking forward to a proper sit down with the Rose of Highgarden that isn't interrupted by brigands."
Margaery's smile was a reluctant one. The Rose of Highgarden, that title was a false one for her now. "I'm quite flattered, your grace." Daenerys' beauty was otherworldly, appearing as gentle of touch as an angel but with a stature almost as imposing as Tywin Lannister. It didn't matter how many times they met, but each time there was something more that Margaery hadn't noticed before. She was quite impressed when she first met two of the legendary Unsullied soldiers. Their presence alone was formidable and they did not move a single inch as they stood guard for their queen. There was no question who the better soldier was among all gathered around, Margaery's household knights, the Unsullied, or the Stark guards. But from what Margaery knew of their upbringing, was such strength worth all that was taken away?
But what took Margaery's gaze without challenge were the three dragons that soared over the bay. For one of the rarest moments in her life, Margaery's mouth was hanging open in awe.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Daenerys said.
"Unbelievably so," Margaery sighed as her heart was filled with such wonder that used to only find her as a little girl. "What are their names?"
"My mount is Drogon, the green is Rhaegal, and the bronze is Viserion."
"Rhaegal, after Jon's father," said Sansa and Daenerys nodded. "No wonder Jon chose him for his dragon."
The Dragon Queen's eyes sparkled. "I was so happy when they chose each other." She sighed. "Now only Viserion needs someone, and all three of my children will be bonded.
"Viserion…" Margaery mused. "Named after your other brother?"
Daenerys nodded with a half-faded smile as she looked out to her dragons. "Viserys. He… he was good to me when we were young, and I will always love him for that. He saved my life when we were on the run from the Usurper."
Sansa reached out and touched her hand. "All is done now." Daenerys nodded back, the two smiling at each other.
Margaery noticed, brow raised before she let it go for later. "And Drogon? Where did you get the name of the Black Dread Reborn?"
Daenerys snorted, near chuckling at the moniker. "Drogon is named after my husband, the Dothraki Khal. He was a powerful man and a great leader to his people. We… our relationship was complicated, but he taught me to be strong, proud, and fearless. I will always remember that fondly of him."
"I never dreamed that I would ever get to see such creatures return to the world." Margaery turned her attention back to Sansa and Daenerys, both looking absolutely beautiful in their gowns, "I also hear that there is a giant that roams the walls of Winterfell, Sansa. Is that a little exaggeration or is it true?"
Sansa had a small smile creep on her lips. "His name is Wun Wun. He's a gentle creature, but not to be trifled with. One of the chieftains told me it's unwise to stare at a giant for too long. When they're not shy they're angry, and I saw him lift boulders like loaves of bread. I would wager his throw is as powerful as a catapult." A giggle bubbled up, which she stifled with her fingers.
Margaery had brought her wine glass up for a sip but paused when Sansa had mentioned such a marvel. "I wonder if they were the inspiration for such devices when they faded from reality into legend for the world of men."
Daenerys plucked a slice of a peach from a silver platter. "I'd like to know about the Wildlings. People say they're reavers and rapists and yet Aegon made peace with them after thousands of years of strife."
Sansa sipped a glass of honeyed grape juice. "And you have done the same uniting a Dothraki horde under one banner, your grace. Not exactly gentle folk according to common knowledge."
Daenerys smiled. "Point taken."
"Jon hasn't said much of what he exactly did. There was a… former lover of his that was a Wildling. Ygritte was her name." Daenerys raised her brow at that. "He lived among them, so as much as I can figure that, this girl, and the presence of the army of the dead convinced him to end the state of war. Most didn't want to make peace, but when the dead befell on them they had no choice. Less than a tenth of the entire host was saved."
Margaery felt a shiver go through her spine and it appeared that it went through Daenerys as well.
"He is valiant for doing all he could, Sansa." said Margaery, "I am glad to know that amidst all this fighting, there are still those trying to put the world back together how they can." She sat up in her chair. "But you may call me a fool for choosing blissful ignorance, today is too nice of a day to talk of dreadful things." An idea came to mind. "I cannot speak for myself, but I know that the two of you have been robbed of the joys of a royal lifestyle you should have grown up in. So for the afternoon, why don't we forgo our titles and act as ladies in waiting."
Daenerys looked at Margaery quizzically with a smirk. "That sounds like a fun idea. Especially with the horrors on their way."
Sansa shrugged with raised eyebrows. "My time was all just a giant facade so Cersei wouldn't look at me too much. It'd be wonderful to try it with heart in it now."
Margaery plucked a grape and popped it in her mouth before looking at her guards. "Give us some space, will you? The women need their privacy." Her men nodded and Sansa and Daenerys ordered the same for their guards. "Now then," she began, "there's only one thing women in our position can talk about in a situation like this."
"And what's that?" Daenerys asked, "I've never been in this sort of position before."
Margaery smiled under her veil. "The dashing King of course. A handsome man unwed and lonely at night. Certainly his eyes must search for someone to be by his side."
Daenerys kept her smile, but her eyes showed a different mood. Sansa also shifted uncomfortably and looks away to the food.
"We're young women, not old crones. We deserve to have some time to talk about this." Both Daenerys and Sansa looked at her at the same time. "Or perhaps we should talk about the eyes looking to be at his side." But who to start with? "I heard he shed a tear when he first gazed upon you." she said to Daenerys.
The Dragon Queen took a small breath. "He once told me that I remind him of a great love of his. Someone who betrayed him and he killed." She looked at Sansa. "Was it this Ygritte you speak of?"
"I'm not sure," said Sansa, "He told me that Ygritte was the first girl he lied to. What happened after might fill the answer since she shot him full of arrows."
"So he killed her?" Daenerys asked.
"Um, no, I think it was a boy from the Watch who did, and that she died in his arms." Sansa took a deep breath. "And he lit her pyre himself."
Daenerys shook her head, almost wiping a tear from her eye. It was quite heartbreaking. "Then it is not her, but someone else."
"I'm curious who it could have been." Sansa shook her head. "He never had any lovers in Winterfell when we took it back. He always kept himself alone aside from Rickon and myself when he wasn't in a meeting with the Lords… not something to be proud of. And there were none when he was Lord Commander before he…" Sansa's words were caught in her mouth. Everyone knew she was about to mention his death. "Was released from his vows."
"Perhaps there is more he won't say," Margaery said after a sip of wine, "but he has earned the right to his secrets. What we should focus on are the events of the last few days. He puts the past ten Kings before him to shame and yet he does not show interest in a queen. Is there something a married woman like myself does not see?"
"He is handsome," Daenerys started, "strong, and respectable. Any maiden would cast their eyes longingly upon him, even after his declaration to any would be attackers."
"Do yours?" Margaery asked. "Not the eyes of a Queen or the Breaker of Chains, but the eyes of Daenerys Targaryen?"
Daenerys paused as sipped her wine. "I would be a liar if I said they didn't, but I would call you the same if you agreed with it. Both of you." They each eyed each other but Sansa was the only one to appear slightly taken back.
A sigh escaped Margaery, admitting that Daenerys was right. "My husband is a gentle and kind lord, but not a great man like the King. Were I not wed, I would be putting myself in the King's gaze whenever I could," Margaery admitted to her honestly with nothing to hide. "But I am married and shall remain faithful to my husband as his mother and Robert could not be. But you, Sansa," her eyes narrowed in the mischievous gaze she used to have, "There is literally nothing keeping you from having little Targaryens."
"Margaery!" Sansa exclaimed, cheeks turning as red as her hair. Even Daenerys sported a faint blush. But her tone was almost angry, not embarrassed. "I am his sister."
"You're his cousin, and Tywin's wife was his. And Aegon is a Targaryen." Margaery wiggled her brows. "They tend to hold unique and firm reactions towards their sisters…"
"Enough." Sansa shook her head with a little smile but Margaery noticed that Daenerys appeared both hurt and angry, trying to hide it from them.
"Did I say something that offended you, Daenerys?"
Daenerys took a deep breath and looked at Sansa. "You would be a wonderful wife to him, Sansa. And the mother to the new age of Targaryens."
Margaery became confused. "Do you not seek to continue your line, Daenerys?"
A sad smile came upon Daenerys' face. "If only I could. I can't have children, Margaery. The witch who murdered my husband cursed me to be barren to the end of my days." She sighed.
"That again," Sansa had reached a hand over the table and set it softly on Daenerys'. "I still don't believe that a murderous witch is the most reliable source of information, Daenerys. She has every reason and incentive to lie to you."
The Dragon Queen blinked. "You did say that before… and perhaps you have a point, yet I cannot afford to open myself to more hurt. I never fell pregnant since Drogo died."
"You had a lover?" Margaery asked, pointedly.
A nod. "A sellsword captain, completely lowborn. He was… fun and he declared his love for me, but I didn't love him back." She shook her head. "Never bothered with any sort of tea or withdrawal and I never grew heavy with a child." A sigh came and she closed her eyes but then opened them, the violet tint sparkling. "But the worst no longer is upon me." Daenerys showed a genuine smile of joy now and held Sansa's hand in hers. "It's because Aegon is alive that my family hasn't seen its end. I think you should be his, Sansa."
Now, it was Sansa who looked hurt and withdrew her hand. "The last person he would want is the bitch who has been an arse to him since he was six."
"But it's different now, isn't it?"
Sansa cocked her head as a form of shrug. "The way he acts sometimes... he seems shocked that I am here, by his side. Early on he was quite distant and mistrustful. But I think he finally sees me as his sister and not my mother's daughter."
Damn the monsters who shaped Sansa this way. It was because of the pain she suffered that Margaery further knew that Sansa needed someone to love even more. "Well if not the King," she said as she sat back, a little disappointed that her company had no intention of winning King Aegon's heart, "then who? Bachelors in Westeros are not as desirable as they used to be."
"That's true," Sansa mused. "All the good ones have already been taken or died in the war." She tapped her temple. "Margaery, don't you have some cousins?"
"Hardly any left," she replied somberly. "My aunt Janna has three sons but all of them are wed." Margaery looked at Sansa. "I heard a rumor that Robin Arryn of the Vale's made a turn for the better, but he's still a little bit of a bumbling boy."
Sansa snorted. "He's getting better, but I think once he's reached the age of thirty he'll have matured into proper manhood… it's too soon to say for my dear cousin."
Daenerys looked curious. "He must be quite the character considering he's your cousin. What about Loras?"
Stifling a giggle, Margaery shook her head. "He's not keen for those with our… parts." Eyes widening slightly, Daenerys nodded. "My grandmother told me he's stepping down as heir so the Tyrell name can continue through our cousin, Willas Fossaway. In a few weeks, he'll take the name Tyrell and sit at Highgarden." A new idea that was a delight popped into Margaery's head. "If no men are worthy of two beautiful women of the court, perhaps some maidens are."
Sansa and Daenerys both giggled. "Not that joke again, Margaery," Sansa said.
"I'm sorry, but you've talked about this before?" Daenerys could only shake her head, mirth in her eyes as she sipped at her wine. "Alternatives to men among the beautiful women of the world?"
"I wasn't joking," answered Margaery, eyes on Sansa. "Not as uncommon as one would think. Though I was deflowered on my second wedding night, I have spent many nights in the beds of other ladies and explored every nook and cranny." She sat back and sighed, gazing fondly up to the sky.
"Truly?" Daenerys asked.
Margaery nodded with a smirk. "Oh the places we never think to go unless we have help. Not as intense as a nice cock inside you, but from my experience it's softer and much sweeter. Far more pleasing since both have to be keen on each other's pleasure." Not that his Grace would have a problem, she guessed.
Daenerys shifted in her seat. "I've heard Lady Yara speak of the brothels she's visited, not to mention Lady Ellaria's proclivities."
Equally as flushed and warm, Sansa took deep breaths to steady herself. "Aye, Lady Ellaria. Looking back on it… there wasn't a soul that her or her husband wouldn't seek to bed together." She managed to shrug. "Would never work for alliances, or children."
"We're already at the top, though," answered Daenerys. "No one could challenge us on any partner we choose."
There was an awkward silence and for the briefest of instances, Margaery found that Daenerys and Sansa locked eyes together… but quickly looked away. Margaery sipped the last of her wine to hide her smile. A fun little seed had been sewn.
"I think we should go for a walk," Sansa said. "These chairs were never comfortable."
"What a good idea," Daenerys agreed and Margaery gladly joined them. She had enough fun for today. Now it was time to let them have some. As they walked along the stone paths around the gardens, they did so in episodes of silence, taking the time to admire all around them with an occasional pointing to an interesting sight. Their guards had resumed following behind them at this point.
When they turned the corner and passed under an overpass of the castle wall, they were walking along the path that looked over the southern grounds of the castle, including the training yard. The women all stopped and leaned over the edge to get a look at the display they saw before them.
Down below in the yard was Aegon and his four Kingsguard, all sparring furiously together. It was four on one and the King was holding his own with a focus that was like he was in a real battle. The Kingslayer was slower than the rest of course, but still they fought with speed.
Margaery's fingers curled into a tight fist. Of all Kings, why couldn't she have married this one? She could have demanded Tommen release her from their vows. Too late now. She turned her head just enough to see the faces of Sansa and Daenerys and both of them had the same gaze in their eyes, ones of admiration and hunger.
The sparring match took a turn when from under the canopy of an erected pavilion stepped out Loras with his own sparring armor and sword. He joined the fray but it was like nothing changed for the King. He never attacked, he only kept repelling sword after sword.
The King's eyes caught the women watching him and then suddenly he changed tactics, going on the offense and in mere seconds knocked five men onto their backs.
"Bony iksis kostōba," one of Daenerys' Unsullied said.
"He is indeed," Daenerys replied. "But not too proud of his win."
Sansa shook her head lightly. "Jon's the greatest swordsman I know of and the only one I know to hate it."
Margaery became confused. "A skilled warrior who carried a legendary blade. The King is the embodiment of the dream of every young boy in the world."
Sansa looked at her. "Boys dream of being in gleaming armor and sword at hand, but they don't understand who will meet the end of their blade. Wildlings, Boltons, Wights, even his own Brothers of the Watch. It's all he's ever done. He's never had a chance to do something else."
There was a collective sigh, as all three women shared a great sympathy together.
"Well my ladies," Margaery said, "I have enjoyed today more than many yesterdays. I will be sad that I will not be with you to enjoy more for a long time."
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. "Are you going back to Highgarden?"
"With the situation of Loras stepping down, I need to help settle things since my Grandmother is needed here. I leave tomorrow."
Sansa stepped forward and hugged her softly. "I will miss you, Margaery."
Margaery hugged her back. "And I you, Sansa. But I have faith that when all of this is over, we will both be standing proud and hopeful for the future." They let each other go and looked at Daenerys. "It has been a great honor to share your company, your grace. I hope that all can be settled without violence."
"It's thanks to Aegon that we can." Unexpectedly, Daenerys stepped forward and hugged Margaery. "I'm glad we could all be ladies in waiting for a day."
It was saddening to have to part with her friends, but Margaery had her obligations to herself she had to she through. She had already made the arrangements and the time spent together would help her push through the hardships to come.
The night had finally come. Margaery was never more impatient for something to happen like this. She was taking a great risk with this gamble, but the odds were leaning in her favor. This man, Qyburn, saved the Kingslayer's arm when it should have been taken off, he saved the Mountain from manticore venom… in a sense. Removing her scars and restoring her beauty should be next to nothing.
Margaery crept through the Red Keep on the route patrolled only by the knights sworn to her House. She considered it lucky that the King had kept his trust in her family's bannermen for so long instead of recruiting more Northmen. Granted, some of her family's men had decided to join the newly forming Royal Army, but they still remained loyal where they needed to be.
Although Margaery walked in sight of her family's men, none were to accompany her. That was one of Qyburn's conditions and he was happy to explain that while she was willing to undergo what will be a risky procedure, any spectator might interfere without understanding what he is going to do because it will appear to be nothing but inflicting more damage.
The Red Keep was still and quiet, the only sounds made came from her footsteps pattering on the stone. She walked deep into the lower sections, taking up a candle and stick when there was no light for her. At first she thought they would be doing this in the cellars, but the directions given to her brought her to a well lit room that for intents and purposes, Margaery assumed used to be storage.
"Lady Tyrell," Qyburn greeted. He was sitting over by a table, mixing two vials of substances together. "I trust no one saw you on your way here?"
"Yes, we are alone and we shall be that way for as long as we need. I have two men keeping watch on the path here."
"Very good. I will be ready shortly. If you wouldn't mind," he pointed to a white blanket folded on another table. "Spread that across and disrobe. There is a sheet underneath you may cover yourself with until we are ready."
Margaery first looked for the sheet and felt a little glad to have it. She didn't like presenting herself to this man even if he alone never gave lecherous looks, but she was going to do what she needed to get what she wanted. She set the blanket across the table, getting every little wrinkle out first, and then began the process of disrobing. She sucked in a breath when she was down to her smallclothes. It was colder than she first thought. Even the sheet wasn't enough.
A silver mirror laid on the table next to where she would sit. Instinctively, she picked it up and saw her scarred visage. Stoic for the longest time, here Margaery allowed herself to cry at the ugly, misshapen creature that Cersei had turned her into. That on the outside was what Cersei was on the inside… and if remained in the poisonous atmosphere of King's Landing she would've been inside as well.
Committing the sight to memory, Margaery set down the mirror. Absorbing the lessons while ready never to see that face again.
Margaery sat up on the table and watched the little man prepare his things. He was crushing herbs in a mortar now and then dropped a small twig he lit on fire into the bowl. As smoke began to arise, he quickly covered the top.
"Do you have Milk of the Poppy?" Margaery asked. She could not deny the fear she had about this. What if this went south and made her more hideous than now? What if the worst did happen and she died? Did she have to be awake for this or would she be asleep? If she slept, what would she wake up to?
"I do not use that for means such as this. The amount you would need will bring you to addiction. What I am doing here is far safer at the cost of prolonged headaches over a fortnight. After that, you shall be free." He walked over with the covered bowl in front of her. "When I remove the lid, breathe the smoke in deeply three times."
Margaery nodded. "I'm ready."
Qyburn brought the bowl to her chin and removed the lid. Margaery lowered her nose and inhaled the smoke, doing her best to treat it like a perfume and not cough. The smell of the smoke was strange, almost intoxicating, and after the second breath she grew light headed. With her final breath, she was horribly dizzy.
"Now gently lie back and sleep…"
Margaery couldn't tell what was happening, she was losing her track of reality and dream. Darkness overtook her and the last conscious image she saw was the glint of a knife.