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The Maidenvault
Margaery
Margaery watched as her handmaids moved back and forth throughout her chambers. They all appeared to be both moving in tandem and without a planned purpose. It often baffled her at how incredibly multi-talented a ladies servant needed to be.
They were gathering pieces of silks, satins, and laces that appeared to have exploded in an array of colors. As each maid picked up a piece, it was soon deposited into another maids arms, and Margaery had no doubt that by the time the maids left each fabric would be separated and organized.
Everywhere she looked there was a smattering of fabric and materials and they would vanish within moments.
If only the Seven Kingdoms could be run with such efficiency.
She curved her neck to look for her grandmother and sighed when she found the woman standing on her balcony. Margaery would never admit it outloud, but her grandmother was worried about something. Whatever it was, the Queen of Thorns was not sharing, which usually indicated guilt over a necessary, but uncomfortable choice.
The seamstress at Margaery’s feet made a huffing noise as Margaery shifted to get a better look at her grandmother’s face. Margaery waved her away with apologies on her lips and quickly wrapped the pinned pieces of off white satin to her bodice around her arm and walked over to the Lady Olenna.
“Grandmother, what is worrying you?” Margaery asked as she came out into the sunlight.
Olenna Tyrell looked up from her musing and smiled at her granddaughter.
“I can handle Joffrey, Grandmother. Please do not worry for me,” Margaery took a guess at what was on her elder’s mind.
Olenna Tyrell snorted, “I am not worried about that, Margaery. I am fine, just giving thoughts power when I should be sweeping them away.”
Lady Olenna sighed and sat down to look at Margaery, “Sansa Lann...Stark, Sansa Stark. I have arranged for her to leave after the wedding. I need you to help make sure no one notices she is gone until it is too late.There will be distraction aplenty, I just need to make sure the royal family notices not.”
Margaery’s eyes widened. It was not that she did not agree with her grandmother, but she was surprised her Grandmother would do something that would put the family at such risk.
“I will do as you say, Grandmother,” Margaery acquiesced and watched as Olenna stood again and made way to another of the small rose bushes.
“You will be a grand queen, Margaery,” Olenna put a hand on her granddaughters shoulder as she passed by before busying herself with pruning.
Margaery pursed her lips in thought before making herself smooth out her features. She could no longer afford to wear her feelings on her face.
She needed to be calm and complementary as possible to manage Joffrey until she had more power in court. Until she had removed Cersei Lannister from King’s Landing, she had to remain the picture of a perfect wife.
Once Cersei was gone and an heir secured, perhaps she would not have to be so complacent. That was a long way from the actual day, however.
Margaery squashed the feeling of remorse when it came to Sansa Stark that her grandmother had unwittingly caused to swirl in Margaery’s stomach. She could not afford to let empathy overwhelm her, now, regardless of how much she liked the young wolf girl.
Her family was depending on her.
Dragonstone
Jon
Jon felt the briskness of the wind from the ocean brushing his skin as he made his way to the top of the hill the object of his search was currently standing on. He felt the coolness, but was not cold. He could never understand if that was because of his northern blood running cold or his dragon blood burning.
His aunt had found his musing incredibly hilarious at first, but had eventually sombered when she realized he was actually trying to figure it out.
“I’ve never met someone with so many inward thoughts about what makes them...them. Jon, you must accept all of you for who you are...both north and south, dragon and wolf. You must or others will use your weaknesses against you.”
Jon climbed the last of the steep and looked upon his Aunt and her dragon. Daenerys was leaning against Drogon, rubbing his snout in soft caresses and murmuring quietly to him. She looked up and met his eyes with a smile.
“Nephew, you should sleep,” she said quietly as he came to stand on the other side of Drogon’s head. Jon shook his head as he came up and rubbed the rough snout of the large dragon as well.
He looked out over the sea and wondered how many of their men and the men of their allies were currently residing in King’s Landing. They had placed everyone in the last few weeks, easily, with the preparation for the wedding and so many of the noble houses of Westeros in residence.
Was it going to be enough? The combined forces of Dragon’s Bay and the Dorne?
The dragon part of Jon screamed at him to burn them all to the ground, take Sansa, and go north to re-establish a Stark foothold. In direct ironic contrast, the wolf portion was pushing him to take what everyone kept telling him was his. With the throne he could protect his pack. Shaking himself out of his mood, Jon looked up and realized Daenerys was speaking to him.
“It will be enough, nephew. Quite worrying so,” Daenerys said as she placed a hand onto Jon’s arm.
He smiled wryly. When his Uncle had told him the truth of his origin before leaving to be Hand to the usurper, Jon had found the entirety of his life turned upside down. Ned had given him the small marriage announcement between Elia, Lyanna, and Rhaegar and Jon had been bereft with loss decades old.
He had left with barely a good bye to his siblings and he had regretted it ever since. He would hopefully make some small amount of amends in the new day when he could finally lay eyes on Sansa.
Upon learning the truth, he had foregone the wall and instead went to Oldtown looking for information that could have been hidden away with the Maester’s of his parent’s marriage. It was during his time there that he accidentally found a cousin, or it would be more appropriate to say she found him.
Sarella Sand was not truly his cousin, being a daughter of Elia’s brother, but the girl had sussed out his purpose as he began to question. Jon grimaced as he still remembered finding her in his room, his things upturned, and her holding the marriage certificate between her fingers.
“It seems we were meant to be kin, Jon Targaryen,” the girl had japed. Jon had rushed forward and snatched the precious paper from her fingers.
“Do not speak that aloud!” he hissed and he quickly put the paper up.
“My aunt is your second mother, I believe I shall call you cousin,” the girl had then grinned and laughed, “Imagine my shock when I searched your room expecting some tidbit of information, but instead find an incredible conspiracy.”
Jon just looked at her, unsure of how to respond, “Second mother?” he finally asked, curiosity overtaking him.
The girl shook her head and gave him a patronizing look before patting the bed beside her, “Come and sit with me little cousin and I will tell you of Dorne and our ancient customs.”
Jon walked Sarella back to her own inn after hours of talking. He felt strangely better about his circumstances and sad to learn of yet another parent he had lost...another mother.
“Cousin, come home with me. I will help you find more proof and answers if you wish, but please come home and bring hope to my father and my uncle. They should know that the betrayal they have perceived is not exactly correct?” Sarella asked and Jon agreed without thinking.
Months later as his other cousin and heir to Dorne took him to bed, Jon agreed to a great many other things without thinking. This lead him to Essos and Daenerys. He had found her with a fleeing kalthasar. He found her on a burning pyre and rushed in without a thought, voices surprised and shocked around them.
What happened thus is not something Jon would ever be able to explain. His aunt sat beside her dead husband wide eyed in front of him as the pyre burned around them and a woman screamed as she burned alive.
Then a cracking sound and Jon and Daenerys both looked down as legs and wings and snouts appeared from cracked shell. They looked up at one another again, the fire licking against their skin as their clothes burned away with their hair. Then pecking at their fingers caused them to look back down and they found a part of themselves they had never known was missing.
Jon snapped out of his thoughts when Daenerys placed a hand on arm. She had moved around Drogon without him even noticing. He took his Aunt’s hand in his and smiled at her again.
“You should sleep, Jon, for tomorrow we put you on the throne,” Daenerys said quietly and Jon sighed. It was still a point of contention with his Aunt that he had to be the one to sit the throne. Daenerys had insisted the moment they began to truly plan with Dorne.
“You were born to Westeros and raised on her soil. If I took the throne we would have yet another war on our hands and in case you forgot the War of the Five Kings has already torn apart our home!” Daenerys yelled, red in the face.
Jon slammed his hand on the table indignantly, “You think I do not know that! In case you forgot, Aunt, it was my family that has been betrayed, slaughtered, or missing!”
“And mine hasn’t? At Least you have more family alive to be missing!” Daenerys shrieked back at him and the sound of their dragon’s roaring above them and the room shaking caused them both to rush to the balcony.
It had taken far too long to calm Drogon and Rhaegal after they had responded to their riders ire. It had also made cause for Jon and Daenerys to begin watching their own tempers.
“You should sleep, as well, Aunt. It will do neither of us any good to fall off our own dragons on the flight to King’s Landing,” Jon chided back.
Daenerys snorted and nodded her agreement.
“Daenerys?” Jon said as they walked back inside.
“Yes, Jon,” she responded as they went up the twining staircase.
Jon seemed hesitant before bluntly stating, “Regardless of what happens in the morrow, if I should fall for whatever reason, promise me you will protect Sansa as if she were your own kin.”
Daenerys looked at him with glittering eyes, “I promise, Jon. She is blood of my blood and kin to me though she knows not.”
The Wedding Pavillion
Sansa
Sansa shivered as she watched the mocking show of her eldest brother’s death. She gripped her hands together to maintain her composure. She watched as Olenna Tyrell moved closer to her granddaughter and she tilted her head curiously as she watched Margaery’s eyes shoot sideways to mark where Sansa was.
It was the oddest thing.
First, Lady Olenna’s behaviour was odd enough to not be largely noticed, but something did not seem right. Second, Margaery had looked to see where Sansa was more than a few times during the entire reception. She did not think anyone would notice, but Sansa had made a habit of paying attention to her surroundings at all times. She felt her stomach turn as she remembered the feeling of strange men touching her and pulling at her clothes before the hound had knocked them away.
Shaking off her paranoia and fear, she clapped absently when the rest of the crowd did. It was the sound of the clapping crowd that hid the first screams, but something in the shrillness of the voice made Sansa snap her eyes around the pavillion. They darted out over the crowd as she looked for anything that could give her a hint as to what she heard.
She felt a slight tremor to the ground, as if the entirety of the raised dais was being shaken. She looked to the rest of the seated people at the royal table, but no one was remarking on it, so distracted were they about the rest of the world around them.
“What is it?” Tyrion asked from beside her as Joffrey began to call for his uncle in the mocking tone Sansa had learned meant trouble.
“Somebody screamed…” she began as Tyrion’s attention was diverted, but another scream in the silence of listening to the king speak caused everyone to begin looking around.
Sansa tilted her head trying to figure out what was happening. The screams were coming from outside the gardens where the wedding party was occuring. A movement from the side of her eye caught her attention and she narrowed her eyes as she watched Oberyn Martell draw Ellaria Sand back from the crowd.
As if he knew he was being watched, Oberyn looked up and met her eyes. Sansa stiffled a gasp when he winked at her.
Then as if the moment had been as still as a painting, the entirety of the party erupted into chaos. Men were suddenly pouring from everywhere.
Sansa gasped as she recognized the three headed dragon of House Targaryen and the speared sun of House Martell upon the breastplates. She looked down when she felt her husband clasp her hand to pull her further from the main party.
Sansa looked over to the Tyrell’s, but Olenna Tyrell looked as shocked as everyone. The woman was hastily pulling Margaery as far away from the Lannister’s as possible.
Sansa leapt back as the King’s Guard rushed past her to stand to station themselves in front of the royal party.
“Protect your king,” she could hear Cersei shrieking and Joffrey bellowing for someone’s head.
She did not think it was particularly anybody specific, just someone.
Tyrion remained ever steadfast at her side.
“Lady Sansa, My Lady!” a hushed voice from the side tried to gather her attention. She turned and saw Ser Dontas Hollard motioning for her, but before she could even take a step another man stepped in front of her.
“Lady Sansa,” the gruff sound drew her attention and she gasped as she recognized Ser Barristan in armor stamped with the Targaryen sigil and a white cloak flapping behind him.
“Ser?” she gasped as he took her hand gently from Tyrion and walked her out from the herding of nobles. A shadow cast overhead and she gaped as what had to be dragons flew overhead. The entire gaggle of nobles becoming eerily quiet beyond Joffrey’s bellowing.
“Ser Barristan, my husband!” she gasped, “Don’t let them hurt them, please.”
She was not completely sure why she pleaded, but Tyrion had stayed by her side and had not abandoned her to cower behind Joffrey’s guard. He had protected her with everything at his disposal when acting Hand.
Ser Selmy paused before nodding sharply to a soldier who had apparently been following closely. Tyrion was soon by her side as they were led further away from the wedding. They were joined by the woman she knew as Ellaria Sand and another taller girl.
Suddenly a roar was sounded and the ground shook for only a moment with a thudding sound. Sansa looked around trying to find which direction the thump had come from, but she had a sinking feeling they were traveling towards it.
“Come, My Lady, your cousin wants to see you before he must address the false king,” Ser Selmy said quietly.
“My cousin?” Sansa whispered and even she could hear the broken tones to her voice. Ellaria Sand sidled next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I promise, Lady Sansa, all will soon be revealed and you are safe,” the woman tried assuring her.
Ser Selmy slowed as he realized Sansa was possibly more upset and confused than he’d originally assessed. He looked at her with compassion, “Yes, My Lady, your cousin...but you knew him as your half brother.”
Sansa could hear Tyrion make a shocked noise, but her attention was drawn to the people walking towards her and the giant beasts behind them. The man was tall and dark, but dressed in red and gray, both the direwolf and three headed dragon on his breast. The woman was in black and red with hair almost white and even from this distance Sansa could make out the woman’s violet eyes.
A howl jerked her attention away only briefly as a giant white wolf loped towards her. She exhaled shakely, “Ghost…” and reached out to touch the direwolf. Ghost immediately nuzzled into her hand. She buried her fingers into the fur at his neck and the giant wolf licked out at her arm.
She blinked back tears.
The couple coming towards them slowed and finally halted a few feet away, before the man came up to her.
He stopped in front of her and stared down incredulous as she stared up. His hand came out and cupped her chin as he seemed to take her condition into stock and his eyes blown wide as if she were make believe.
“Sansa,” Jon breathed and that was all it took.
Sansa broke, sobs racking her body, as Jon drew her in and held her close.
“It will be okay, sister, I promise. You are safe,” Jon whispered and Sansa could hear his own voice was choked up.
“I will take her, cousin. Princess Daenerys and yourself must finish the rest quickly so there is little chance of anyone thinking it brilliant to stage an attack for escape,” the tall woman who had joined their retreat
Sansa found herself being drawn away and she had to force herself to let go.
“Sansa, this is my cousin Sarella, the daughter of Oberyn Martell. She is kin and will see to you until everything has calmed. We will talk soon, I promise,” Jon assured her as he looked down.
Sansa nodded jerkily as Jon stepped back and Ellaria and Sarella stepped up on either side of her.
“They are sweeping the castle now, Lady Sansa. We will join the protection of the guard waiting to be able to escort us to Maegor’s Holdfast,” Sarella said as Sansa was led a bit aways.
The fact that they would be escorted to the royal quarters was not lost on Sansa.
Sansa took a deep breath and looked up to meet the other women’s eyes.
“Who is my brother?” she bluntly asked and both women looked at each other before Sarella finally shrugged.
“He is the trueborn son of your Aunt, Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. He is the King,” Sarella said firmly.
Sansa felt a bit lightheaded, but shook it off.
“Then could one of you please tell me exactly what the plan is?” Sansa felt proud that her voice did not shake once.
“That would be nice,” Tyrion’s voice sounded beside her and all turned as if forgetting he had been there.
The Wedding Pavillion
Margaery
Margaery watched as Joffrey was dragged away in chains after attempting to run.
The rest of the Lannister’s were split in two. Tommen was only placed under guard, but Cersei, Jaime, and Tywin Lannister had been taken away. Margaery felt a moment of sorrow for Tommen. Myrcella and Tommen were the only innocents in this game they had been playing.
It was an odd type of situation her family now found itself in.
“Grandmother, do you have any ideas?” she murmured from where she had been sat down with Loras, her grandmother, and her father. She was intently glad her mother was still in High Garden with her other two brothers.
If they were to die here, at least, her line would live on.
“No, I do not, not all the way. That little waif of a blonde must be Daenerys Targaryen, but that boy is decidedly not Viserys Targaryen,” her grandmother sounded more than a little put out.
“He is Jon of House Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar and his second wife Princess Lyanna,” Varys said from where he had been shuffled beside them. All eyes turned on him.
Olenna snorted, “We knew that was a load of horse shit with Rhaegar stealing that girl away.”
“You would be quite correct,” Varys offered.
“And where has Jon of House Targaryen been hiding?” Margaery’s father asked.
Lord Varys just gave his knowing grin, “In the north with his Uncle.”
Olenna barked out a laugh, “Ned Stark and his irreproachable honor that saw his head chopped off was hiding a dragon in the snow?”
“The plan was always to bring Princess Elia and the children out of the keep and bring them to Dorne to meet the Princess Lyanna with Prince Jon. Everything went wrong when Tywin had them killed,” Varys explained.
“It looks to be justice,” Margaery could not help but murmur as she watched Amory Lorch be drug away from the crowds and placed on his knees. She looked around to see if anything else was happening, but suddenly a roar from behind them came.
Gregor Clegane came from behind them and started to run towards this Jon Targaryen. Margaery watched as if everything was in slow motion. Loras stood and pushed the chair in front of them to block the Mountain. Gregor Clegane turned as he stumbled and began to Margaery’s horror to make for Loras.
Loras stood and placed himself in front of them, but he was unarmed.
“Move, Loras!” her grandmother screamed, but there had been no need.
Margaery watched as Clegane’s sword came down, the Targaryen man slid in front with his sword out. The steel clashed and Jon Targaryen pushed back at the Mountain. The man kept himself upright only for a moment, but men jumped on him and began to chain him.
Jon Targaryen stared down at the man and Margaery could see the fury swimming in his eyes.
“Put him with the other child slayer and rapist and take them to the black cells. They’ll be tried with Tywin Lannister on the morrow,” the man snarled before turning back again. He looked steadily at Loras and Margaery noticed his eyes went to the Tyrell sigil and over his shoulder to take in the rest of the family.
“Give this man a sword,” Jon called back to the men milling around. A sword was handed to Loras.
“We will find yours later, you have my word,” Jon told Loras and Margaery could have kissed her brother. He immediately went down on his knee.
“Thank you, My King,” Loras immediately pledged and Margaery had to bite her lip at the stars she could already see spinning in Loras’s eyes. There could be no doubt that Loras would present himself at the earliest moment possible as an applicant for the new king’s royal guard.
“Jon, we need to start letting people disperse. I believe we have found all those that needed to be jailed and there are many ready to bend the knee,” Daenerys said quietly as she looked down at Loras with an almost bemused expression.
“Many others that is, beside one of the roses of Highgarden,” the woman finished.
Margaery heard her grandmother hold back a snort and watched as Jon turned to his aunt.
“There is also a very large woman demanding very loudly to know where your sister was taken,” Daenerys added.
“Brienne of Tarth. She was sent here to bring Lady Sansa back North by Catelyn Stark before the red wedding,” Margaery offered and found herself under the scrutiny of both Targaryen’s eyes, gray and violet. She kept her back straight and her eyes locked up as she gave a curtsy.
“Lady Margaery of House Tyrell,” Daenerys mused and looked over the rest of the Tyrell party.
“You were the last great house to bend the knee to the usurper,” the Princess of Dragonstone stated blithely as she regarded them.
“It was that or watch the rest of my family be slaughtered,” Margaery’s father sneered and Margaery thought her grandmother was going to slap the back of his head.
The King, however, was nodding in understanding, “There is much honor is putting one’s pride aside to save their kin.”
“I offer you my condolences,” he said quietly as he turned his attention to Margaery, watching her carefully.
Margaery pondered the words before realizing the exact meaning, “I would prefer an annulment than to become a widow, Your Grace. As you can see it was not consummated and it was not a love match.”
It would be easier to regain standing as the Lady Margaery who was almost Queen, rather than widowed wife of Joffrey and a deposed Queen.
Jon nodded, “It will be done. I would ask if your grandmother and yourself would join Daenerys in calming the court as we finish the arrests and establishing peace.”
“It would be our honor, Your Grace,” Margaery said and started to stand. She faltered momentarily as his hand came out to offer her assistance. She allowed the blush to cross her face and immediately began to wonder what type of man this Jon Targaryen was. She could not see the cruel insanity that burned in Joffrey’s eyes anywhere within this man’s grey stare.
She actually found herself finally diverting her eyes from his penetrating stare.
“Ser Loras?” Jon called out as he stepped back from Margaery.
“Yes, My King,” Margaery’s brother murmured.
“I am putting my Aunt’s protection in your hands, please see to it that they are all afforded every protection due to them,” Jon ordered and Margaery could hear her grandmother behind make a humming noise from behind them.
This Jon was no fool, but did he truly grasp the amount of honor he was bestowing upon the family who had moments before been the Lannister’s most powerful ally. Looking over to her grandmother and father, she saw both have a pleased look on their face.
Perhaps she was wrong in her definition of allies.
The Lannister’s had never truly been allies and the Targaryen’s had raised their house from the soil.
Maegor’s Holdfast
Sansa
Sansa admitted her tiredness as she leaned back looking over the parchment being passed around between the women. They were currently sitting in the large solar that had belonged to Cersei Lannister. The men that had escorted them had done a quick sweep of the room, removing all lion banners and sigils that were easily visible.
Sansa had been willing to let them stay as they took on more pressing matters, but Ellaria had made a comment about them offending her.
“His Grace would like you to be in charge of his household until the time he marries or the North is settled and safe. Your choices are infinite, Lady Stark,” Ellaria remarked as she scrunched her nose as she looked at the long list of noble names before thrusting it at Sarella.
The sound of Lady Stark being spoken aloud made Sansa’s insides curl in a painful manner, but she pressed the fact aside. She would have to marry a second son of a bannermen who had stayed loyal to Robb. It would be necessary to have someone willing to take her name and to begin binding the North back to Stark.
“How many of them are housed within the Red Keep?” Sarella asked as she looked over the grouping of names.
Sansa hummed as she reviewed the list again, “Not many. Most have secured housing on the other side of Rhaenys Hill. Obviously, the royal family was housed here in Maegor’s Holdfast. The Tyrell’s are currently housed in the Maidenvault due to Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey. Lord Rosby had rooms above the kitchen keep of all places. They are rumored to be spacious and luxurious.”
“There are enough rooms here for the entirety of the Martell contingent and the rest of the Royal family,” Sansa said absently as she reviewed the documents, only momentarily pausing as she realized she was now considered part of the royal family.
She tapped her finger over the list, “I would have the entirety of the guards removed from lodging in the keep and replaced with the Martell and Targaryen men. Then I would have an accounting done for the city watch to make sure there are no Lannister men hiding among them.”
“The King has ordered the Tyrell’s will stay placed in the Maidenvault for now,” Ellaria murmured, “And Sarella’s elder sisters are coming to be companions and protection.”
Sansa looked up with a raised brow at that.
“King Jon was quite worried about your safety. He felt you might find female companions that could also offer protection less cumbersome than the original royal guard he intended to have shadow your every move,” Ellaria offered, “And while the girls are perhaps a little more robust than you are used to, they are all good girls.”
Sansa laughed quietly. Jon had always been tenderhearted and she had no doubt she was about to gain the full force of his protective brother instincts. Then she sombered as she realized this was because she could easily be the last of his siblings known alive. They were the most distant between all of their family and yet here they were the last of the Stark line.
“He will need to marry sooner rather than later. If he does not then he will be constantly chased by noblemen with eligible female family members. It will drive Jon to distraction,” Sansa casually spoke as she reached for a ginger cookie. She nibbled on the end of it as she thought through prospects.
She peered at the list and then back up to the women. She tilted her head and wondered if the Martell’s wanted another one of their ladies as queen. It would be appropriate since the world at large thinks Elia Martell had been set aside. Sansa was still having trouble wrapping her head around the fact that Elia Martell had in fact not been set aside, but a full and willing participant in marrying her aunt. She had decided not to dwell on those logistics with much thought.
She shook her head as she came back to the subject at hand. She felt as though Ellaria would have immediately mentioned if Jon was planning to marry a Martell.
Thus, she kept ending up back at the Tyrell’s.
“Margaery is prepared to be Queen. She is well liked by the people and that will matter in the success of reestablishing the Targaryen dynasty with as little bloodshed or other claimants as possible. The Tyrell’s also supply the majority of the grain and much of the produce grown on the continent. The quickest way to keep the people happy is to keep them fed,” she added as she mulled the thought over and over in her head.
“I am afraid I do not have much in the way of advice to offer when it comes to marriage prospects. Daenerys will want a voice,” Ellaria said and Sansa had to laugh at the distaste on the older woman’s face.
Sansa nodded as Sarella chuckled, “It feels strange to say I do not think Jon will care one way or another. If you tell him he is to wed then he will wed.”
Sansa paused,”Is he so very complacent?” and she thought back to whether this fit with her picture of Jon from the past. She felt a little sad to realize she could not connect her memories of the boy with much of who the man could now be. She remembered sullenness and an underlying level of resentment, but so much love for Robb and the rest of his siblings.
Sarella seemed to contemplate the question.
“I would not call him complacent, but driven to a task that he sees as the only choice available for his goals. Under his paternal grandfather’s rule the Starks suffered and died. Under the Baratheon and Lannister rule, the Starks suffered and died. Now, the only way to stop the Starks left from suffering and dying is to place himself on the throne,” Sarella stopped to sip at her tea before continuing.
She glanced back at the tea kettle, “This is quite good.”
Sansa hummed, “Orange blossom with citrus rind. It is a favorite. You truly believe Jon will marry because of this idea of his?”
“If you tell Jon that he needs to marry to secure his rule, then he will automatically connect that with keeping you safe. You have become the endgame of his goals in all honesty, the realm being at peace is a secondary goal. I believe if you told him to marry you, he would struggle, but comply.”
Sansa inhaled sharply and leaned back at that knowledge, before nodding to herself in decision.
“The lone wolf dies, but the pack together survives. I would not wish to make a match with my cousin as it would not be beneficial to his rule or mine in anyway. We must make sure Jon is surrounded by a council that cares for the realms best interest without desiring to use the King’s own honest nature against him,” Sansa stated and began to make her plans in her head.
First, she would help settle the South and then she would see to freeing the North from the Bolton chains, the Frey’s two little towers knocked down, and Theon Greyjoy’s head on a pike.
Maegor’s Holdfast
Jon
Jon groaned as Daenerys and he finally collapsed into chairs in what appeared to be some sort of solar like sitting room. Unsullied and Dorne soldiers shared responsibility outside at the door. Jon tilted his head in thought about how he was supposed to go about building back his own loyal Targaryen guard.
He would have to eventually give his Aunt’s army back to her.
“Who would have thought that the Red Keep had more confounding hallways than the Great Pyramid,” Dany complained as they both began to finally relax after such a long day.
“We will need to see to Tywin Lannister first thing in the morning. A fast trial and beheading. Joffrey as well and his mother,” Jon said quietly and rubbed at his temples.
A knock made them both look up and Daenerys called out for entry.
The Dornishman spoke, “Lady Stark is requesting entry, Your Grace.”
“Yes, let her in. Lady Stark never needs our permission to enter,” Jon responded and stood quickly as Sansa entered, Sarella behind her. Ellaria must have long retired to bed with Oberyn.
“Sansa,” Jon breathed as his sister entered.
She was a vision in a pale grey dress with red accents. It was almost a mirror of his own colors and armor he had worn, except hers was predominantly grey while his had been predominantly red.
Daenerys laughed beside him and they both turned to look at her.
“I must know how you had a dress made so fast in colors that make your allegiances to Jon and to the North so clear,” Daenerys asked with a grin.
Sansa blushed, “I had the dress buried among the things I was not allowed to wear when they...when they killed my father. I added the red cord and lace while waiting for you to retire for the evening. Is it true that every house in residence bent the knee?”
Daenerys snorted, “It’s hard to argue when there is a dragon in the courtyard. We will see how the kingdom responds to the decree that has gone out.”
Jon nodded and came up to her silently. Sansa looked up at him startled.
“You..you look like your lady mother,” Jon said as if she was a ghost and Sansa found herself drawn into his embrace. She remembered Sarella’s words from earlier.
Your safety is the endgame.
“Jon,” she found herself soothing him, her hand coming up to brush down his hair and with surprise she realized he was crying.
“I’m sorry, Sansa. We could not return sooner. We watched Robb’s winning and thought he would make it to you long before we would and when the red wedding happened we sped up the plans, but not quick enough…” Jon was shaking apart in her arms and Sansa did her best to steadily lead him back to the chair where she had to press him down.
“No, Jon, you must not blame yourself…” Sansa murmured.
Jon snarled and stepped back from her, “Varys told us and I have spent part of today rounding up the men that helped strip and humiliate you in open court. I will see them burn or their heads roll…”
“Enough!” Sansa found herself snarling back and Jon’s eyes shot up.
“You do not have anything to apologize for. You came as soon as you could and I am beyond proud to call you my brother and my King,” Sansa was already calming as she felt Daenerys push a chair closer for her to be able to sit. She looked over her shoulder and smiled gratefully to the other woman.
“The Gods, old and new, have blessed me with women smart enough to call me stupid,” Jon muttered and gave his own smile to Daenerys and Sansa as he gathered himself.
“Now, Sansa, where do you think we should begin to settle Kings Landing,” Jon diverted the attention as they both came to look at him.
“I think we should speak more of Kings Landing in the morrow when we break our fast. You should find yourself to bed as should Princess Daenerys,” Sansa stated laconically.
Both of the Targaryen’s looked at her with raised eyebrows. Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Surely conquering a city counts as a full day's work,” Sansa continued, “Now, I had the King’s quarters cleaned and readied as well as the heir’s chambers for Princess Daenerys. Lady Missandei has been most helpful, though we will need to see about vetting the entire staff that worked under the Baratheon and Lannister reign.”
Sansa shook her head, pushing off the need to plan and close in the gaps.
“Bed! Both of you!” she found herself ordering and smiled when they both stood and allowed her to nurture them out the door.
“I’ve had fruit and light broth with warm milk placed in your rooms. It has been vetted by tasters for safety that I saw to personally,” Sansa continued.
They reached a set of doors and Sansa curtsied to both of them, “Sleep well, Your Grace and Your Royal Highness. I shall see you on the morrow.”
Jon and Daenerys just looked at one another and shrugged at each other before following the guards to what was apparently their new rooms.
The Great Hall
Jon and Olenna
“I should have Rhaegal burn it to the ground,” Jon growled as he looked over the monstrosity before him.
“That would be a ridiculous foolish decision,” the Lady Olenna Tyrell said dryly from behind him and Jon twirled to find the self-proclaimed Queen of Thorns behind him. His eyes darted behind her looking for a guard.
“Their standing outside the door to the hall,” Lady Olenna stated dryly as she came closer and gave a slight dip of a curtsy which made Jon grin.
The woman did not reek of propriety and social niceties in the way much of the South apparently did.
Mayhaps, he could give the older Tyrell the throne and abdicate completely and go North with Sansa.
Then he shook the idea out of his head. No one else could be trusted to do what needed to be done without cruelty.
“What do you plan to do with us, Your Grace,” Lady Olenna finally asked when he motioned her to stand.
Jon raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m not going to kill your family if that is what you are worried about. You did nothing wrong besides see to the Tyrell safety and prosperity. Your deceit was never malicious and mutual friends tell me that you even tried to remove Sansa from the Red Keep by marrying her to your grandson. I don’t know whether that was because you wanted Sansa safe or because you wanted her gone, but you did try and protect her regardless. Why do you say it would be foolish to burn down this ridiculous monstrosity?”
Olenna Tyrell walked up to the throne and reached a hand out to run over the fractious iron pieces burned together.
“You know your history, correct? That Aegon I made the Iron Throne from the blades of his fallen enemies, be it by bending the knee or death? I am sure there is a sword or two from House Gardener among the multitude,” Olenna stated and Jon nodded to her.
He sat down as she spoke on the top step before the throne and waved for her to join him, “I’d call for chairs, but I would prefer to speak without interruption.”
Olenna made a huffing sound as she sat as well,”Just know you are helping me up, young man.”
Jon grinned at her and Olenna found herself shaking her head with a smile indulgently. This boy was going to be trouble, but possibly the good kind.
“So, that throne is a representation of every family, of every house, of every land that has ever bent the knee or been destroyed by House Targaryen to forge the Seven Kingdoms. Through that representation, that constant reminder, with those beasts flying around Kings Landing, perhaps your rule will not be defined by blood and fire your family is so inclined to tote around as a mantra,” Olenna finished, watching the boy’s reaction.
She would admit to being pleased to see the boy nod in agreement.
“What would you suggest for my next move?” Jon asked in curiosity.
Olenna looked over at him and narrowed her eyes.
“Marriage,” she said simply, “Marriage and the securing of an heir.”
Jon nodded, “Who do you suggest I marry?”
This time Olenna pursed her lips at the boy. Was he trying to get her to suggest Margaery? Was it a trick? She could not figure out what his point of questioning was for.
“You should marry someone who would help preserve what is not broken in the realms, but someone who also has much to offer. Your aunt would offer no clear benefit as you are already allies and she obviously has no intent to declare a second dance. Your once upon sister, now cousin, would be an alright choice…” she began, but the boy interrupted.
“No. My cousin is as close as a sister could be to me and I will not dishonor my uncle by marrying his daughter after everything she has been through. The North belongs to Sansa and they will not accept her if she is married to the South. Maybe once upon a time if there was another heir available, but not now,” Jon quieted again before asking another question.
“I see you did not mention Lady Margaery, but I do not know why she was not the first suggestion. Is it because you fear the reason behind my questioning or because you do not want to risk the Rose of Highgarden to another mad king now that you dodged one?”
Olenna startled, “You might be smarter than I originally thought you to be. It is twofold, for both of the reasons you stated.”
The boy nodded in understanding.
“I am told by my sister that it would be appropriate to ask your permission to formerly court the Lady Margaery. I would like to extend an invitation to her and to an appropriate chaperone to walk the east gardens with me in the mornings after breaking her fast,” Jon asked as he stood and offered a hand to the Lady Olenna.
Olenna thanked him as she straightened herself out, “That would be agreeable. Surely you know that we would have agreed to a betrothal without the courting. You have us to your advantage.”
Jon Targaryen turned and looked directly at her, “I could offer, but I figure that it would be appreciated by the family of the women that very nearly had to consummate a marriage with a man so mad, the brides own grandmother conspired to poison him at his own wedding.”
Then he turned on his heel and left Olenna Tyrell watching him leave in quiet consideration.
The boy was much smarter than she had originally thought and perhaps Margaery would find a worthy partner in such a king.
It was hard for Olenna to imagine anyone worthy or equal to her granddaughter, but perhaps a husband with the ability to love would be an acceptable choice.
Of course, anything was better than insanity.
The Solar in Maegor’s Holdfast
Sansa and Margaery
Sansa hummed to herself as she worked through the many letters that had been arriving all morning from members of the nobility. She was beginning to find herself with quite the headache and was very grateful that Jon did not deem it fit to name her hand of the king as well.
She looked at the copy of the royal decree that was sent by ravens in mass only the night before. Even though several weeks had past, the job of settling the city and allowing Varys to amass the many reactionary reports beginning to flood in was taking more time than many had expected. She glanced at the letter once more.
Sansa still felt as though the Faith was up to something with their support of her cousin. They have been adamantly refusing to recognize Elia and Lyanna as wed, but had upheld Rhaegar’s marriage to both Elia and Lyanna separately.
The crown houses had been the fastest to arrive, but there were still representatives, heirs, and Lord’s coming in from the Eyrie and even the Westerlands. There was still very little news coming from the Riverland’s and from all reports the Frey’s were attempting a siege to Riverrun, albeit badly.
Shaking off the thoughts of the battles coming soon, Sansa got back to her own responsibilities.
She smiled as she thought of her new title, Lady Sansa of House Stark, Mistress of the Royal Household. Jon had looked sour at the title, declaring it to droll for his own sister, but Daenerys and Sansa had both impressed upon him that the responsibilities that she would wield were a great honor. The creation of such a post could also prove a good political move in the future as it would be something that could be given as another appointed honor by the royal family.
“Lady Sansa, you wished to know when it was time for you to take afternoon tea,” her handmaid told her as Sansa finished one last signature and set her quill to the side.
Smiling at Shae, stood and moved across the room and towards the doors.
“Has the Lady Margaery arrived?” she asked as they walked steadily down the hall towards a large open balcony in the royal quarters that Sansa had already decided would be the location of where she would personally entertain.
“She is on her way according to the servants,” Shae responded and Sansa nodded as they entered the room and went to the balcony. A minstrel with a harp was already waiting.
“Shae, when Margaery and I sit for tea, you are to close the doors to the balcony immediately. The minstrel is to begin to play and not stop unless the balcony doors are to be opened,” Sansa instructed and the woman nodded.
Sansa knew it would not be completely able to block out eavesdroppers, but it would make their job harder. The Red Keep and its court thrived on secrets and mayhem, but it was Sansa’s job to begin and weed out that type of behavior.
It would never be gone completely, but she was determined that Jon would be known as a fair, just king. From this point onwards, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms would be ruled by someone both Stark and Targaryen. The implication could lead to the most well known and beloved king of all time.
Sansa smiled slightly as she found herself dreaming of fairy tales again. She found it quite nice that she was able to imagine.
“The Lady Margaery of House Tyrell,” Shae announced and Sansa stood and gave the girl a genuine smile.
All of the Lady’s kindness might have been selfishly motivated, but it did not change the fact that Margaery Tyrell had tried to save Sansa from her fate.
“Be welcome, Lady Margaery,” Sansa said and reached to briefly clasp the other girls hands.
“I thank you, Lady Stark,” Margaery intoned, equal amusement dancing in her eyes.
Sansa gave a nod to Shae and indicated for Margaery to sit as the doors shut and the minstrel began to play.
She poured their tea herself and leaned back in her chair, “As you were so kind to listen to me and not share my words when we first met, I would offer you the same courtesy. Whatever we discuss here, will not go any further than my ears and the wind.”
Margaery tilted her head to the side, “Thank you, Lady Stark.”
“Sansa,” Sansa insisted before continuing, “Now, I heard you and my brother took a walk in the garden this morning. May I ask what your impression was?”
Margaery took a sip of her tea and seemed to contemplate her answer. She thought back to that morning with a small amount of pleasure.
Margaery found herself walking the garden with Loras beside her. He was fully armed after permission had been granted with the delivery of a formal invitation to join His Grace.
“He is quite handsome,” Margaery mused as they moved through the roses.
Loras nodded and seemed to hesitate, but Margaery realized his mood shifted almost immediately.
“What is it, Loras?” she asked quietly.
Loras seemed to think over what he was going to say, before stating quickly, “If you do not want this match, Marge, I will remove you from King’s Landing. You only have to ask.”
Margaery stared, almost flabbergasted, for a moment before smiling at her brother softly and reaching out to place a hand on his armored arm.
“Loras, why do you think he gave permission, without being asked, for you to escort me in full armor and armed? It’s a bit odd, don’t you think, for a newly established king to offer such a security issue?” Margaery asked gently.
Loras sighed and nodded, “I know, Margaery, that it shows a manner of character that you consider gentile and grandmother considers stupid, but I wish for you to have your own desired destiny. If it is not marriage, then I will support whatever choice you make and aid you in your endeavors with everything I am.”
Margaery put her arm through her brother’s in a manner of commodary as they continued down the path, “And if I desire to marry this Jon of House Targaryen and be his Queen?”
Loras smiled back down at her as they walked, “Then I will beg to be given a white cloak and will protect you and your children for the rest of my days.”
“It is a good thing Father and Mother had three boys, brother, because you’d be useless as the heir,” Margaery murmured and Loras chuckled his agreement.
They came to a stop as the King appeared from behind a row of tall shrubs, Ser Barristan and an unknown guard in Dornish colors at his back.
“Your Grace,” Margaery practically hummed as she curtsied.
She rose and gave her hand to the King when he reached to help her rise.
“Thank you for joining me, Lady Margaery. I am afraid that you will have to lead this expedition as I am quite uncertain as to which way we are supposed to go,” King Jon said as they began moving again.
“It would be my honor, Your Grace. The mazes of the Red Keep are lovely, but nothing compared to the labyrinth of Highgarden,” Margaery answered jovially.
“I remember reading as a boy that Highgarden has fields of roses as far as the eye can see,” the King responded, lightness in his voice as well, “In every shade imagined.”
Margaery nodded, “Yes, the golden roses were always one of my favorites. We also have groves of fruit trees that bloom and have fruit that can be plucked from a window. Loras and I were forever getting scolded for climbing too high in the trees to take the prettiest fruit.”
“Aye, we used to run wild in the Wolfswood of Winterfell and my Uncle would be cross with my broth...cousin, Robb and I,” Jon said and Margaery heard the sad tone in his voice.
“You miss your cousin?” Margaery inquired softly and watched as the King looked off in the distance.
He nodded, “Aye. I do. Robb was everything I admired and I was often jealous of him as a boy. He was my brother, regardless of birth, and I miss him and my other siblings more than anything.”
Margaery hummed under her breath as she thought of her next words, “You have been reunited with a sister-cousin. Lady Stark is as kind as she is beautiful. I know she is more precious to you than any other.”
Jon slowed his walk and turned to look at her, “Sansa’s happiness will always be of paramount importance and nothing will allow her to be happy, but peace in the realm. I will see that happen and I will see a Stark return back to Winterfell to rule the North as is proper.”
Margaery tilted her head and took in the somber, but honest face of Jon Targaryen and measured her next words even more carefully than her first.
“I would see the realm at peace and my family safe as well, Your Grace,” she responded and watched as his eyes narrowed before softening at her.
“Aye, I think we might have similar wishes and goals, My Lady,” he finally responded and took her back down the path.
A brief look back saw that Loras had fallen in step easily with Ser Barristan and the unknown Dornish guard was no longer escorting them.
“He is kind,” Margaery told Sansa, “Genuine and kind.”
Sansa laughed softly, “That he is. He has been this way since childhood. He will need someone not so kind to help him in court.”
“His aunt seems quite...ferocious,” Margaery offered as she picked up a piece of fruit.
Sansa barked out a laugh this time, “I am almost certain Princess Daenerys would feed the majority of the courtier’s to her dragon if given any type of option. I know she aches to return to the sun of the east where she is the undoubted Queen and practically worshipped. Even as warm as it is here, she has said it is nothing compared to the heat of Essos.”
Margaery nodded along as Sansa spoke, “He has you and regardless of what the rest of the court thought, you have proven yourself all wolf.”
Sansa nodded and looked out over the balcony into the garden below.
“I am here for now and I will be here as long as Jon needs me, but my place is in the north...in Winterfell. I am a wolf and I am a Stark. Our pack has grown quite small, but there is a flayed man awaiting northern justice in my family’s ancestral home,” Sansa said as she stood and walked to the railing.
Margaery joined her, “Will the north rejoin the south? Your brother declared your kingdom independant. It would not be beyond reason for you to claim that throne as the last trueborn child of Eddard Stark.”
Sansa sighed softly and turned to look at Margaery, “That is where the world is wrong. A copy of Robb’s will was sent to King’s Landing. I never saw it, until Jon took back his own birthright. Robb legitimized and named Jon his heir and the North will do what is honorable. Robb named Jon and Jon is King ...of the North and the South by his own right. I honestly think it is only the idea of violence that keeps Jon from forgoing Targaryen and taking the name of Stark.”
“And you are the Wardeness of the North, Lady Stark, by the King’s own decree and your own blood. The Stark name will go on through you, because we both know that you would never take another name. The rumor is the Dragon Queen is baron and that it must be Jon to perpetuate the Targaryen line,” Margaery stated, without question.
Sansa nodded, “Yes. So you see, Lady Margaery, I have an entire kingdom to put to rights and Jon will need someone in King’s Landing for always. I fear he’d join his aunt in her blood thirst, except he would chop heads off instead of feeding them to his own dragon.”
“I see, Sansa,” Margaery responded simply and watched as Sansa turned to look at her fully.
Sansa nodded satisfied and motioned them back to the table, “Then let us discuss other items of interest...the Westerlands need a Lord and I suppose it is too much to hope that there is a Reyne heir hiding in the hills.”
"Not Lord Tyrion?" Margaery asked, curious at Sansa's reasoning.
Sansa pursed her lips, "Mercy will be given to Tommen and Myrcella. Tommen to foster with a loyalist and Myrcella to remain in Dorne. Tyrion will be going to Essos to serve as an advisor to Queen Daenerys. He will never be allowed to take a noble westerosi wife nor will he be allowed a keep or lands. Tommen will be allowed to marry, but he must take his wife's familial name. House Lannister will stricken from the realm as surely as winter will always come again."
Margaery thought over the words, she was not completely sure she agreed with leaving Tommen in a position to marry. Her grandmother would say it would be best if the boy faced an accident while on the way to the wall or to oldetown. As if reading her thoughts Sansa spoke up.
"Tommen will be watched all the rest of his days with whichever house he is placed with. Jon refuses to be a child slayer as Tywin Lannister or to send an unwilling child to the wall as did my own father," Sansa explained and Margaery wondered at the intimacy of the information Sansa was giving freely.
Margaery let a smile drift over her face as she realized that in Sansa’s mind the deal was done. Jon and Margaery would marry and therefore Margaery was going to help place their pieces on the board.
Sansa suddenly reached out and grasped Margaery's hands before speaking fiercely, "You will have to protect Jon from himself. Half the time he still thinks he is a burden to those that support him. He cannot help it as it was an understanding that my mother forced upon him. He must have a partner who will not only support, but push him into his own confidence when it falters."
Margaery squeezed Sansa's hands, "I promise that I will do all I can to be both a comfort and support to your brother, Sansa. I swear it before the Seven."
The Maidenvault
Lady Olenna
Lady Olenna Tyrell counted herself to be one of the most sensible people in her world. Her son was often a buffoon with his choices and her good-daughter, while beautiful and sweet, was the picture of vapid layers. She often despaired of having born a ridiculous son, but two intelligent daughters. Then again, her Luthor had been pretty, but not exactly a scholar.
When Willas had been born, Olenna had waited with baited breath as the boy grew and had been pleasantly surprised to see that her grandson exemplified everything she cherished in her own self.
Olenna had long learned not to set her expectations anywhere but the garbage bins, thus when good things happened she was surprised, not shocked.
Then Garlan came and she was once again pleased. She had felt by the third pregnancy that their luck had to be waning, but once again Olenna had to admit to herself that her final grandson was worthy of her legacy as well.
Then came Margaery and Olenna knew that House Tyrell would not only survive the world after the dragons, but thrive in it. From the moment the child had been pressed into Olenna’s arms and sparkling, intelligent eyes had stared up at her, she had felt fears that she did not want to address vanish.
Now, the Tyrell’s stood on another precipice and this one could firmly see their legacy secured for all future generations. Olenna would never be surprised that Margaery was the one that saw their labor to fruition.
When her granddaughter had been set to marry into the Lannister family, Olenna had long decided that Joffrey would not do. The ease which she planned to dispose of the boy should make her feel guilty, but Olenna had long given over to the futility of allowing her conscience to dictate necessary choices. The long game had been Tommen and even there she knew they would have to play their pieces accordingly to remove Cersei from all facets of power.
This Jon Targaryen was once again a surprise of the greatest sort. If Olenna was the type to put her faith in the gods, she’d say it was fate. She, however, was not one of those types and knew without a shadow of a doubt that their good fortune rested at the feet of one Sansa Stark.
Lady Sansa of House Stark, Mistress of the Royal Household and the newest position to have a seat on the small council.
Olenna found that part particularly amusing. It seemed to not matter that the girl was ten and seven turns old, but only that her opinion was the one that the King valued most...and it was this girl’s opinion that her brother should marry Margaery.
Her brother had created a whole new position with which to place his now known to be cousin. It was deftly done.
Margaery had returned from a busy day the night prior and had shared all she knew with Olenna. Now, they just had to wait till the boy felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to marry Margaery.
“My Lady,” a guard spoke from the door.
“Her Royal Highness, Daenerys, the Princess of Dragonstone and the Lady Sarella, Daughter of the Hand to the King to see you,” he announced and Olenna nodded as she began to stand.
“Do not stand on our behalf, Lady Olenna,” the short, little blond Dragon said as she came through and Olenna sat back down. She was not exactly sure how someone as small as the dragon girl could resemble the large black beast she had flown in on, but Daenerys Targaryen had a presence about her that could move mountains.
“Daughter to the Hand? King Jon made Oberyn Martell, Hand to the King?” Olenna couldn’t help but ask and wondered at the ludacrity of choosing that hot head.
“A position of strength was owed to Dorne and Arianna had no wish to marry one we consider a cousin,” the Lady Sarella stated dryly and sat once Daenerys had settled.
“Well, then. How may I be of service to the daughter of the Hand of the King and to yourself, Princess?” Olenna asked.
She watched intrigued as they both shared a look, but it was Daenerys who spoke.
“Sansa has met with Margaery and has approved of the match. I am here as the eldest member of House Targaryen to discuss terms of surrender,” Daenerys cooly spoke.
“Terms of the betrothal, Dany, not surrender,” Sarella muttered under her breath and Olenna would be lying if she didn’t say she had to hold back a bark of laughter. The female Targaryen looked as if betrothal and surrender had the same definition in her book.
“I am unclear as to what all His Grace feels we should offer as a dowry?” Olenna made herself play dumb and motioned the servant forward who appeared with tea.
Daenerys smirked and Olenna could see the girl was going to play her game.
“Jon expects Margaery to treat with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms as well as she treats with the small folk of Highgarden. He expects her to be his partner in all things and wishes her opinion to matter as much as his Hand. Would these expectations be acceptable?” Daenerys turned the subject to desires, rather than physical requirements.
Sarella shot the dragon princess an exasperated look, “Lady Olenna we have come today to share with you what will be expected of Margaery if she were to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in truth. She will be expected to fulfill the duties Princess Daenerys described, but she will also be expected to bear heirs for His Grace, numbering no less than three within a ten year period. She will be expected to travel with His Grace on grand progress and meet their people. That said, if we must go to war, then she will be expected to remain in King’s Landing and rule from the Iron Throne.”
Olenna’s eyebrows raised at the terminology and she would admit she sat her tea cup down with a clatter, “She will be expected to…”
“Yes, Lady Olenna, you are understanding correctly,” Daenerys broke in, “Jon wishes to rule as Aegon ruled with his sister wives, albeit with only the one wife. Margaery will be monarch in every way that Jon is monarch, second only to him, and before the Hand. There first born, be it a girl or boy, will be the heir. That is the deal I made with my nephew when I stepped aside to support his claim in full.”
Olenna leant back into her chair and stared at the two women and wondered if they truly understood the implications that these choices could have on their society as a whole, be it peace or war.
“And you have come here to...ask my blessing?” Olenna finally bluntly asked.
Daenerys laughed softly, “Lady Olenna, very few people in the centuries after Valyria’s fall have married into the Targaryen line. Never have we entrusted the rule to anyone other than our own blood so absolutely. Jon choosing to marry Margaery and elevate her to Queen by her own right and not just consort will tie the Tyrell’s to us in a way that has not been done in a very long time. The entirety of the Tyrell family will have a claimant's right to the throne if the Targaryen line was to fall to dust. While this does make your family grow stronger, it should not be a responsibility taken without understanding the full implication.”
Olenna stared at the two women who stared back with equal coolness.
“Well, then I suppose there is nothing left but for me to speak with Margaery and her father. We will provide an answer by twelvth bell on the morrow.”
Daenerys and Sarella both nodded and stood before making their way from the room.
“Right,” Olenna called out and watched as the man stuck his head in the door.
“My Lady?” he asked.
Olenna leant back into her chair as she finished pondering the proposal that had been laid at her feet, “Please ask my granddaughter and my son to join me in the garden canopy. They will know the one.”
Right began to withdraw, “Oh, and bring parchment and writing tools. We will also need to send raven’s before the day’s light is gone. Make sure to have that prepared,” Olenna called out as she stood and began to make her own way to the gardens of the maidenvault.
The Chamber of the Small Council
King Jon
Jon stared down the table at his council and forced himself to hold as still as possible. Oberyn was at the end of the table, with Sansa sitting at his Hand’s side oddly enough. She’d been peppering the man with questions about the three daughters that would be in King’s Landing soon to protect Sansa.
Pycelle had joined them shortly after Ser Barristan had walked in. Jon had wanted to smile at his newly reinstated Kingsguard commander. The man practically looked like he wanted to dance and sing being back in his armor.
Varys and Lord Velaryon joined them last.
Jon looked around the room and took great pleasure in the fact that Petyr Baelish was not to be present. The man had appeared the night prior and while Jon had no proof of misdeeds, Lord Baelish made his skin crawl. He had dithered some words about going to the Eyrie to secure the support of the Lady Arryn to the crown as he stood before the Iron Throne.
“Secure the support, Lord Baelish?” Sansa murmured as she demurely looked to her lap and stirred honey into her tea.
Jon watched as she lifted the cup and her head at the same time to meet the master of coin’s eyes, “I seem to remember hearing the false queen speaking my mother going to the Eyrie and being turned away by my aunt. Why would Lysa Arryn listen to you when she refused her own blood?”
Petyr Baelish had dithered over the response before finally remarking, “She loves me, Lady Sansa…”
“Stark,” Jon growled out and when the two turned to him, Jon glared as hotly as he knew how at the man.
“My cousin is to be addressed as Lady Stark for that is who she is and you do not have me leave, nor will you ever have it, to address her personally. I find it baffling that you did not immediately go to ask for Lady Arryn’s help when the former Lady Stark practically begged for it. I will say this only once, Lord Baelish. Since your arrival you have been watched and your rooms are currently being searched as are all of your...other properties in King’s Landing. You are hiding something, I do not know what, but I will discover it and when I do...you best pray to your Seven that it is not so bad that I don’t put your head to the block myself.”
Jon finished and found Sansa watching him exasperated with her eyebrow raised. She finally turned and looked at the weasley man.
“You will be held in rooms for now, Lord Baelish. Be grateful it is not the black cells and do behave lest you find yourself in more unforgiving quarters,” Sansa said and nodded to one of the guards at the back of the room.
Petyr Baelish was still yelling about now having loved Sansa’s mother as the guard finally had to physically remove him.
“Your Grace, I have brought the records you requested,” Pycelle was stating as Jon snapped out of his thoughts.
“These are all copies of correspondence you sent for the usurper’s over the years?” Jon asked as a large amount of scrolls were dropped to the table.
“Not all, Your Grace, but the citadel does try and keep a clear record of how large changes occurred,” the maester continued and Jon motioned to Varys.
“Please see if you discover anything of interest,” Jon ordered and Varys nodded his agreement before pausing.
“Yes?” Jon asked, still not completely sure about the man who ran his spy network.
Lord Varys looked at him and looked back to Sansa before finally responding, “I heard you took Petyr Baelish into custody last night. Might I ask what brought this about?”
“The King and I both feel that Lord Baelish is hiding something. Is there something you wish to tell us?” Sansa broke in before Jon could answer.
Varys sighed, almost as if he truly did not want to share his information, which made Jon brace himself for a surprise.
“Lord Petyr Baelish betrayed the late Lord Stark to Cersei Lannister and her son, Joffrey. He promised aid and soldiers to take the Queen and the boy into custody while he called for a council to crown Stannis. Petyr Baelish instead went to the Queen and this led to the arrest and eventual execution of the Lord Hand. I do not know for truth, but I also believe he is the one who suggested to Joffrey Waters that Lord Stark had to be executed. It was long though he had an obsession with Lady Catelyn Stark,” Lord Varys finished and Jon barely heard the end as fire roared through his veins.
He looked up to Sansa and found her stricken and her hand clutching at her throat. Their eyes met and Jon realized Sansa was forcing herself to be still, because her eyes showed pure rage.
“Take Petyr Baelish to the black cells and strap him to the walls. He will be brought to the Sept of Baelor and I will strike his head from his body the same as I did to the Lannister traitors,” Jon ordered and watched as Ser Selmy slipped from the room to take care of his orders.
“Sister,” he said quietly to his cousin who was staring down at her hands now as they gripped the cloth of her skirts.
“Sansa,” Jon said quietly and she finally looked up.
“Come with me,” he said quietly and held his hand out. She took it and tried not to falter as he led her from the chamber.
“This meeting is dismissed and we will reconvene this afternoon,” he told the rest of the room as they left through the doors.
They had made it as far as the first entry way to Maegor’s Holdfast when Sansa could hold back no longer.
“I hate him, Jon. I want him to hurt and hurt and hurt,” Sansa erupted and her voice carried through the hall as Jon pressed her into the entranceway of the royal chambers.
“I want his throat ripped from his body as the Starks of old did with their wolves. I want him to hurt and I want everyone to look upon him and know what happens when you betray the Starks,” Sansa finished as she turned and stared out to the balcony. She seemed to realize where she was and inhaled sharply.
She turned to Jon and he was immediately worried with the fear that she was showing him, tears filling her eyes.
“Sansa…,” he began but she held up her hand to silence him. He waited cautiously.
“It was my fault,” she whispered and turned around to face Jon again.
Sansa took a deep breath and continued, “It was my fault that Cersei killed Father. He told us that we were going to return North and I went to the Queen and begged her to let me stay. I did not know,” Sansa was choking back sobs at this point and Jon stood frozen.
“You didn’t know, Sansa. You were a child…” he began, but the sound of rage that Sansa emitted as she turned again and slammed her hand against an ornate mirror hanging on the wall.
Jon watched helplessly as the glass shattered and Sansa fell to the ground in a heap, cradling her now blood dripping hand.
“I killed our father and probably Arya, Jon. Robb would never have gone to war if…,” she choked off and Jon had enough.
He knelt beside her and wrapped her hand in the cloth of his cloak.
“Enough, Sansa. You were a child and simply acted as a child would. We all have made mistakes in the past and you did not lead to anyone’s death. Father would have still tried to be honorable and the only thing that would have changed is you would have been with Robb when he was slaughtered. You would be gone...and we do not know about Arya. They have never found a body or a hint of where she went,” Jon quietly told Sansa and when she finally had quieted, Jon went to the door and sent the guard for a maester.
“NO!” Sansa called and he turned again.
“I don’t trust Pycelle,” she said in a murmur.
Jon paused and then nodded, “Send for Prince Oberyn.”
When the guard had taken off, Jon turned back to Sansa and helped her up and into a chair. He perched on the desk and sat holding her hand.
“Your Grace, Lady Stark,” Prince Oberyn said as he swept into the room and surveyed the broken mirror and Sansa gripping her hand.
“Perhaps you could find us some wet towels and hot water, Your Grace,” the man said with an arched brow and Jon snorted at the easy way Oberyn made it known he wanted to speak with Sansa without Jon.
He left the room with an easy acceptance and the last thing he heard as he began to make way to where he could at least ask for what he needed, he heard Oberyn speak to Sansa.
“I would like to tell you about my sister Elia and her children and what I felt after they were murdered.”
Jon almost turned around but stopped when Sansa answered with a question.
“Do you ever stop being so angry that you can feel the pain?”
Jon forced himself to move forward. Perhaps Oberyn Martell was better equipped to help the last little sister he could have left.
He glanced outwards as he moved forward into a sunlit room and nodded to one of the servants. He ordered what he needed and moved to look out the window.
“Wherever you are, Arya. Please come back to us,” he whispered into the air.
The Sept of Baelor
Margaery
Margaery stood in the entrance hall that had been closed off from the main sanctuary and felt her stomach knot up. Her mother stood beside her, having arrived only the night prior with her elder brother Garlan and his wife, Leonette.
Her grandmother had not wanted the entirety of House Tyrell minus the heir in King’s Landing when dealing with the Lannisters, but Garlan had been summoned and placed into the position of Master of Laws by the King. This left Leonette to join her court and Margaery would admit gratitude for her good-sister’s company.
Sansa and she had been growing closer and that was a boon Margaery would not dare argue against. The cousin to the King continued to be one of his closest councillors and Margaery had already accepted this as a fact of their life. Sansa was, however, quite blunt about the fact that she would go North as soon as the South was settled.
She had declined all attempts at courting from all Southron houses and had confided to Margaery that she felt the best way to begin to bring the North back together was to marry a Northern House. Margaery had been helping her pour over genealogies and houses and information of who was left after the massacre of the red wedding.
“Are you worried, my Margaery,” Lady Alerie asked as she came and straightened pieces of the green fabric with gold brocade that clung across Margaery’s body. Margaery resisted the urge to slap at her mother’s hands, knowing fully there was nothing wrong with the placement of her dress.
Alerie had a habit of fidgeting and fixing when her own nerves showed, though she was the picture of dignity unless it involved one of her children.
Margaery finally reached down and gathered her mother’s hands into her own and met her eyes.
“I am not worried, Mother, and you have no cause to fear. Jon is a good man and though we have only had these few moons together, I know in my innermost self that I will grow to love him as surely as Jenny of Oldstones loved her Prince of Dragonflies,” Margaery assured her mother and her mother smiled at her, eyes moist.
Margaery’s grandmother made a huffing noise and practically man handled her good-daughter out of the way.
Lady Olenna looked at her and Margaery could see the pride in her eyes.
“This family owes it future to you, Margaery. You will be a Targaryen when this day is done, but know you have always been and will always be a Tyrell,” Olenna advised as she stood in front of.
“We will grow so strong that even the worst of the world could not tear us asunder,” Margaery whispered back fiercely.
She stepped away and joined her father as the bells began to toll and let them know that it was time. Holding her head up, Margaery of House Tyrell entered the Sept of Baelor again to become Queen.
As the vows were spoken, ravens left the capitol in large groups for the second time in that year.
