(This is set at the end of the season 2)
Pov Maerya
Joffrey, now seated on the Iron Throne, addressed the crowd with a confident proclamation. "I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, first of my name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the saviour of the city and the Hand of the King!" he declared, his voice echoing through the hall.
Tywin Lannister then rode in on a white horse, his presence radiating authority and gravitas.
Tywin Lannister, now with the Hand of the King pin, acknowledged Joffrey's declaration with a nod of gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. He then turned around, mounted on his beautiful white horse, and caught sight of Maerya in the crowd. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable, before he rode away into the distance.
"Lord petyr Baelish step forward"
Lord Petyr Baelish, upon hearing Joffrey's words, approached the throne and knelt before it. "For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the houses of Lannister and Tyrell," Joffrey declared, "I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal, with all its attendant lands and incomes, to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time"
Lord Baelish rose to his feet, his eyes locked with Joffrey's, and responded with feigned humility. "You honor me beyond words, Your Grace," he said, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. Then, he added playfully, "I shall have to acquire some sons and grandsons" Maerya, present in the room, couldn't help but roll her eyes at Baelish's joke
Ser Loras Tyrell, the golden rose of Highgarden, approached the throne and knelt before it. "Ser Loras Tyrell," Joffrey called out, and the knight in question stepped forward, sank to his knees, and waited with an expression of dutiful obedience.
Ser Loras Tyrell, still kneeling before the throne, looked up at Joffrey with a mix of gratitude and respect. "Your House has come to our aid, and the whole realm is in your debt," Joffrey declared, his tone filled with genuine appreciation. "None more so than I," he emphasized. "If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours."
Ser Loras looked up at Joffrey, his expression earnest as he spoke in favor of his sister, Lady Margaery. "Your Grace," he began, "My sister, her husband was taken from us before." He paused momentarily to gather his thoughts before continuing, "She remains innocent. I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honor of joining our houses"
King Joffrey turned his attention to Lady Margaery, his gaze fixed on her as he asked the question directly. "Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" he inquired, awaiting her response. The room seemed to hold its breath as all eyes shifted to Margaery, waiting to hear her answer.
Lady Margaery, before stepping forward, glanced in Maerya's direction, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Taking a deep breath, she then advanced towards the throne, her steps slow and graceful.
Lady Margaery, her voice filled with sincere devotion, confessed her emotions. "With all my heart, Your Grace," she began, her words dripping with sentiment and sincerity. "I have come to love you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears, and those tales have taken root deep inside of me." Her smile was deep and genuine, reflecting the passion held within her heart.
Joffrey, his tone sincere yet regretful, responded to Margaery's love with a mix of flattery and honesty. "I too have heard tales of your beauty and grace," he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. "But the tales do not do you justice, my lady," he continued, his compliments ringing true. However, he followed up with a disheartening revelation. "It would be an honor to return your love, but I am promised to another," he stated, sitting back on his throne, a sense of regret coloring his words.
"A king must keep his word" Cersei, the dowager queen, interjected in the conversation, her voice filled with maternal concern. "Your Grace," she interjected, "in the judgment of your Small Council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason," she stated firmly, her gaze fixed on Joffrey. "A girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne even as we speak" Cersei pleaded with Joffrey, her voice filled with determination. "For the good of the realm, Your Grace," she implored, "your councilors beg you to set Sansa Stark aside." Maerya's gaze shifted to Sansa Stark, taking in her beautiful braided hair, and noted the sadness etched on the young girl's face.
Joffrey responded, his voice heavy with a sense of predicament. "I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people," he stated, "but I took a holy vow." As he spoke, Pycelle stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of age and knowledge. "Your Grace," he began, speaking with measured authority, "the gods do indeed hold betrothal solemn, but your father, may he rest in peace, made this pact before the Starks revealed their falsehoods." He went on, "I have consulted with the High Septon, and he assures me that their crimes against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of the gods," he declared.
Joffrey's tone shifted to one of relief, accompanied by a hint of anticipation. "The gods are good," he declared, his voice carrying a sense of satisfaction. "I am free to heed my heart." He continued, "Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister, and you shall be my queen. I will love you from this day until my last day," he affirmed, turning to look at Margaery,
The throne room erupted into applause, the sound of clapping and cheers filling the air. However, amidst the celebrations, Maerya stood silent, her expression guarded. Though happy for Margaery, the thought of Joffrey's character weighed on her mind, causing her to remain subdued in the midst of the jubilation.
Margaery, filled with warm affection, walked over to Maerya and spoke with a tender voice. "Go, my dear sister," she said, a soft smile on her face. As Maerya stepped forward, the room fell into an eerie silence, the only sounds being the soft inhalations and exhalations of those present. All eyes turned towards her, anticipation hanging heavy in the air, as she moved with a mixture of determination and trepidation.
"your grace might I ask for a favor as well" ,
King Joffrey, his gaze shifting to Maerya as she approached him, took a brief moment to glance her up and down before responding. Rather than immediately answering her request, he remained silent, waiting for her to continue with her question. Maerya's voice, steady yet filled with a hint of anxiousness, echoed through the throne room. "I would ask for dragon eggs, your grace," she stated, her words hanging in the air. Her request, steeped in a subtle mixture of curiosity and vulnerability, hung in the air, awaiting Joffrey's response.
Maerya, with her knowledge and awareness, silently acknowledged the fact that they likely possessed dragon eggs, and that only a fool would have destroyed them. Maerya's thoughts drifted back to the recurring dragon dream she had been experiencing, the images and sensations still vivid in her mind. A sense of certainty surrounded her, as if the dream had whispered secrets about the dragon eggs' presence. She waited anxiously, her convictions growing stronger.
Lady Cersei's voice cut through the air like a blade, her words laced with skepticism and disdain. "Why would you need dragon eggs?" she questioned, her gaze fixed on Maerya. "And if we had them," she continued, "why would the king give them to you?" Her voice carried a subtle tone of mockery, as if dismissing Maerya's request outright.
Margeary stepped forward, her presence an unspoken show of solidarity by Maerya's side. "Your grace," she began, her voice filled with a mix of confidence and affection, "this is my half sister Mae Tyrell." Her words were a subtle reminder of their bond, Margaery continued, "You have said that anything we ask for, it shall be ours. So, if you have any dragon eggs, I implore you to give them to my sweet sister"
King Joffrey glanced at his mother, Cersei, who stood at his side. They exchanged whispers, their voices hushed and indistinguishable to others in the room. Maerya's eyes met Margaery's, her voice lowering to a mere whisper. "Thank you," she said, her words spoken quietly, intended for Margaery's ears only. Her voice was filled with gratitude and a hint of relief, expressing her appreciation for Margaery's unwavering support.
King Joffrey addressed Maerya with a measure of curiosity in his voice. "If we had dragon eggs, you shall receive them," he acknowledged. "But may I inquire as to what you plan to do with them?" he continued, a mixture of intrigue and skepticism evident in his tone.
Maerya responded with a soft smile, her voice carrying a hint of whimsical explanation. "I love the beauty of things," she began, her words tinged with a sense of admiration, "and dragon eggs are a very beautiful thing to have." Her answer offered a glimpse into her appreciation for treasured objects, her desire for possession driven by this aesthetic appreciation. King Joffrey nodded his head slowly, his expression reflecting a measure of thoughtfulness and consideration.