Margaery
Red Keep
It was a beautiful morning in the gardens of the Red Keep. The gentle sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone paths. The air was fresh with the scent of blooming flowers—a delightful blend of jasmine and roses that lingered in the soft breeze. Birds sang merrily, flitting from branch to branch, their melodies adding to the peaceful atmosphere of the morning.
She had been in King's Landing for two months now, and what an experience it had been. She could still vividly recall the grand entrance her family made upon their arrival in the capital—a spectacle that was still a topic of conversation among both the court and the smallfolk. Banners bearing the golden rose of Highgarden fluttered proudly in the wind as they passed through the city gates. The streets had been lined with cheering crowds who welcomed them with open arms. Knights in gleaming armor and lords and ladies in their finest attire marched towards the Red Keep, an impressive procession that displayed the wealth and power of Highgarden and The Reach.
She felt like a queen that day. The smallfolk had looked at her with reverence, utterly captivated by her beauty. She could see the awe in their eyes as they whispered among themselves, marveling at the sight of her. When they arrived at the Red Keep, they were greeted by none other than the king himself, along with Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys, and many of the courtiers. It was a moment she would never forget.
And now, two months later, she found herself walking hand in hand with the very prince who had welcomed her so warmly. Margaery walked beside Prince Aegon, her arm gently supporting him as they strolled along the cobblestone path in the garden. Aegon leaned slightly on his cane, his gait slow but steady.
Her heart ached for her prince every time she saw him, and she had vowed to herself that she would help him in any way she could. Today, she was fulfilling that promise, just as she had been since the day they met.
A short distance behind them, Ser Gerold Dayne and her brother Loras walked at a respectful distance, their eyes ever watchful. Loras, clad in his gleaming armor, seemed at ease, but she knew his mind was always alert, ready to act at a moment's notice. Ser Gerold, with his ever-present sneer, was less comforting, but his reputation as a formidable swordsman made him a valuable protector for her prince.
As they walked, Margaery gently squeezed Aegon's hand, offering him a smile that she hoped would convey all the warmth and support she felt for him. "It's such a lovely day, isn't it, my prince?" she said softly, her voice like a soothing balm.
Aegon returned her smile, though there was a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Yes, it is, my lady," he replied, his voice carrying a touch of melancholy. "The gardens have always been a refuge for me, but today, your presence makes it even more so."
Margaery felt her heart stir at his words, but she couldn't help but sense the underlying tension in him.
"How has it been, serving as my sister's handmaiden? I hope Rhaenys has been treating you well."
At the mention of Princess Rhaenys, she paused. Despite the warmth of the morning, she couldn't help but feel a slight chill when she thought of the princess. Her experience with Rhaenys so far had been... cold. The princess had been polite, yes, but distant. Margaery often felt as though she were speaking to a wall of ice rather than to a person. Rhaenys was too occupied with her cousins, leaving little time to spend with her. Despite the prestige of being her handmaiden, Margaery often felt like an outsider looking in.
"She has been very kind," Margaery answered, her voice measured and polite. She knew better than to speak ill of a princess, especially to her brother. But in truth, Margaery had hoped for more, especially if everything went well and Rhaenys would become her future good-sister.
She smiled at the thought—the idea of marrying Aegon, becoming a princess herself, and one day ascending to become the queen. The prospect filled her with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Aegon had revealed his intentions a month into her stay, confirming what her grandmother Olenna had suspected all along—he did indeed intend to court her. But for now, it would remain a secret, as the king, for some bizarre reason, had not yet sought matches for any of his children.
The secrecy added a layer of romance to their courtship, making her feel as though she were living in a storybook: secretly courting a prince, helping him, and falling in love. There was even a dastardly villain in the tale, or so it seemed. Aegon had trusted her enough to reveal that he was at odds with his brother, Prince Maekar, whom he claimed was plotting against him for the throne.
Margaery had been taught that bastards were sinful and wanton, a stain on their noble houses. She had never truly believed those teachings, seeing them as too harsh. But now, it seemed Prince Maekar was proving them right. Like Daemon Blackfyre before him, Maekar wanted to take up arms against the rightful heir, to steal the crown that was meant for Aegon.
Aegon paused, their walk coming to a stop. He turned to Margaery, his gaze intense. "Kind? That's all she's been?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Margaery offered a soft smile, hoping to ease his concerns. "Yes, kind. Polite, even. She hasn't shown much interest in getting to know me."
Aegon sighed deeply, the weight of his worries apparent. "I had hoped you would gain her confidence, my lady."
Margaery looked at him, intrigued by the deeper meaning behind his words. "Why is that, my prince?"
Aegon hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the gardens as if to ensure no one was listening. "Rhaenys... I fear she too might be plotting against me," he confessed, his voice low and troubled.
Margaery's eyes widened in shock. "Your own sister? But why? Surely that can't be true."
Aegon's expression darkened. "Rhaenys... Rhaenys has spent too much time in Dorne, surrounded by those who embrace the Dornish way of thinking. Who knows what notions they've planted in her head?"
Margaery thought back to the Martells and their customs. She knew how they always chose the firstborn as heir, even if they were a woman. And then there was Princess Arianne, who had subtly insulted her on more than one occasion when she was in Rhaenys' company. Perhaps Arianne was the one filling Rhaenys' head with such dangerous thoughts.
"I promise you, my prince," Margaery said, her voice firm with resolve, "my family will do everything in our power to support you."
Aegon looked at her with gratitude, but his expression remained somber.
"Why do you think the king has not married the princess off?" she asked.
"He hasn't even considered marriage for me," Aegon said, bitterness creeping into his tone.
He paused, looking into the distance. "I believe he wishes for me to marry Rhaenys."
Margaery felt her heart drop at his words. They were Targaryens, after all. Would the king do this? Would he force Aegon to marry Princess Rhaenys? Her mind raced with worry.
"No, my lady," Aegon said, taking her hand in his. "That is why we are courting in secret. I have no intention of marrying Rhaenys. My heart belongs to you."
Margaery's spirits lifted slightly at his words, but the uncertainty of their situation still lingered. "Perhaps... my brother Willas might be a good match for Rhaenys," she suggested.
Aegon looked thoughtful, his mind working through the possibilities. "That could be... advantageous," he murmured. "Though the Lannisters have also shown interest. I was considering a match between Joffrey and Daenerys to secure their support."
Margaery smiled, seeing the pieces of Aegon's plan coming together. "Dorne, the Reach, the West, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, the Crownlands... all will stand with you," Margaery said confidently.
Aegon's expression softened as he gazed at her, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
"It's not that easy," Aegon replied, though his tone was lighter.
"It may not be easy, but it is possible," Margaery countered. "And I will make sure that you ascend to the throne."
Aegon smiled, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. "We will."
Margaery returned his smile, feeling the warmth of his words and the certainty in his tone. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.
.
.
.
"Loras, did you have to seek a fight with the prince's friend?" Margaery chastised gently, though there was a firm undertone in her voice.
After their walk in the gardens, Loras had challenged Ser Gerold to a duel after the older knight had goaded her brother. Prince Aegon had suggested they go to the training yard to settle the matter.
Loras shrugged, clearly unbothered by the prospect. "Ser Gerold needs to be put in his place."
Margaery sighed, placing a hand on her brother's arm. "Just... don't hurt him too much. He is Prince Aegon's friend, after all."
"Don't worry, sister," Loras replied with a confident smirk. "I won't do anything too drastic. Just a bit of friendly competition."
Ahead of them, Margaery could hear Aegon and Joffrey talking as they walked. The Lannister had joined them on the way to the yard. She did not like the young lord, but she understood why Aegon befriended him—he was Lord Tywin's grandson, after all. Joffrey's voice was particularly excited as he spoke. "My family will be here soon, Aegon."
'Good,' Margaery thought, realizing that this would be an opportunity for her prince to solidify his support with the West. She made a mental note to discuss it with her grandmother later.
Aegon nodded, his tone measured. "Have you had a chance to speak with Daenerys?"
Joffrey sneered, his disdain evident. "Your aunt seems more interested in that northern savage than in anything else."
Margaery's attention shifted as they approached the training yard, and she noticed a small crowd had formed—mostly ladies and other knights and lords gathered around, watching intently. Loras, walking beside her, squinted at the sight. "What's happening over there?"
Aegon, who had been walking ahead with Ser Gerold, stopped abruptly. Margaery noticed the change in his expression—anger flashed across his face, but he quickly schooled his features, masking his emotions.
As the crowd parted, Margaery's eyes widened slightly as she finally caught sight of the figure in the training yard. "Oh..." she murmured, recognizing the man at the center of attention.
Prince Maekar was in the training yard, his shirt discarded, revealing his muscular, tall form. His skin glistened with sweat, his long dark hair falling in wild strands around his face as he fought. He was wielding a massive warhammer, swinging it with practiced ease against Ser Oswell, one of the Kingsguard. Maekar's movements were fluid yet forceful, each strike of the warhammer echoing through the yard as he and the knight exchanged blows.
His broad shoulders and chest were solid and powerful, the muscles rippling with every swing of his warhammer. His arms, large and commanding, moved with ease, showing the strength behind them. His abdomen was a taut wall of muscle, every inch of his core as solid as stone. Even his legs, thick and strong, supported his towering frame effortlessly.
She couldn't help but be impressed by Maekar's raw strength and skill. He was a formidable warrior. She found herself unable to look away, just like many of the other women gathered near the training yard, all equally entranced by Maekar's display of strength and skill.
She quickly realized what she was doing and forced herself to look away, her heart beating faster with the sudden awareness of her thoughts. Her mind betrayed her as she began comparing Aegon and Maekar, and a wave of shame washed over her.
She glanced at Aegon, who was watching his brother with a tight jaw.
Trying to regain her composure, she looked around the yard, noticing the young heir to the Vale, Robert Arryn, watching with wide eyes, along with several lords from the Crownlands, Vale, and Riverlands. Despite her best efforts, her eyes kept drifting back to Maekar. As they got closer, she heard Aegon say something to Gerold, but her attention was diverted when Maekar finished his bout with Ser Oswell. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Margaery felt a jolt of something unfamiliar. She was lost in his steely gray gaze, and when she realized it, she quickly blushed and looked away.
Her cousins, Megga and Elinor, weren't as discreet. She could hear them whispering behind her.
"He's even more handsome up close!" Megga whispered.
" I didn't think anyone could be that strong," Elinor added, her voice full of awe.
Margaery tried to ignore them, but she couldn't deny the truth in their words.
"Come, let's leave," Aegon said, trying to mask his irritation, but there was an edge to his voice that she couldn't miss.
But Joffrey simply ignored Aegon. Instead, he walked directly toward Prince Maekar, who was also moving in their direction.
"Brother," Maekar greeted with a nod, "I see that you have company."
Aegon remained silent, his expression unreadable as he looked at his brother.
Maekar then turned his attention to her and her cousins. "Lady Margaery," he greeted with a slight bow, his demeanor respectful, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
She almost forgot to respond, her gaze momentarily caught by the sight of his broad, muscular chest. She quickly composed herself, offering a polite smile. "Prince Maekar," she managed to say, her voice steady, though her heart was racing.
Loras, standing beside her, frowned. "It's not proper to stand before a lady like that," he said, his tone sharp, referring to the prince's lack of a shirt, she could see her brother was a bit flustered as well.
Maekar's smile widened slightly. "My apologies, Lord Loras. It's simply much better to train shirtless. You should try it sometime."
Before Loras could respond, Joffrey stepped forward with a smug grin on his face. "Ah, Prince Maekar," he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "It's good to have you back in the castle. We all thought you had forgotten that you are a prince, given how much time you've been spending with the... common rabble of the city."
Margaery could see the annoyance flicker in Aegon's eyes as Joffrey continued. "It's heartwarming, really, to see you so... dedicated to your new duties. I heard you were also cleaning up Flea Bottom. I suppose it suits you. Finally found your place among the filth," Joffrey added, his words biting.
Maekar remained composed, his expression eerily calm as he looked down at Joffrey, his height and presence intimidating. He stepped closer, causing Joffrey to take a small, involuntary step back.
"Someone needs to do the work," Maekar said evenly.
Joffrey's smirk widened. "Of course, of course. It's just that… Well, it's a bit of a step down from leading armies or commanding fleets, isn't it? But then again, I suppose it's the perfect place for you—among the muck and the whores."
Without breaking his calm demeanor, Maekar leaned in close, his voice low as he whispered something in Joffrey's ear. She couldn't hear what he said, but the effect was immediate. Joffrey's smug expression faltered, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a response. His face turned red with a mix of anger and shock, and he seemed utterly speechless.
Maekar straightened up and turned to the rest of them. "If you'll excuse me," he said, inclining his head slightly before walking away, his powerful strides carrying him out of the training yard.
Margaery managed to respond with a polite farewell, though her thoughts were in disarray. She found it increasingly difficult to suppress the wanton thoughts that raced through her mind as she watched him leave, his presence lingering even after he was gone.
Aegon, without a word, turned on his heel and left the yard, followed closely by Ser Gerold and the still-flustered Joffrey.
"What did he say to that little shit?" Loras muttered, his gaze fixed on Joffrey's retreating figure.
Margaery's gaze was still drawn to where Maekar had disappeared. "Stop staring, sister," Loras said, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"You were doing it too," she retorted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
"Who wouldn't?" Loras replied.