LIMERENCE | XXV.
MARGAERY TYRELL
King's Landing | 301 a.c.
MARGAERY SAT QUIETLY AS GIFTS WERE BROUGHT BEFORE THEM. IT WAS THE MORNING OF HER wedding to Joffrey, which meant it was the morning before combined Dornish, Reach, and Northern forces would move against the Lannisters. Though Margaery sat with her mother, father, and grandmother, her brothers sat at a different table away from her.
Margaery's eyes had been glued to the table, watching as Loras bounced Mariah in his lap while Elinor and Willas dotted over William. She knew that she'd told Elinor that the moments contended her. That the moments were the only thing that kept her going, but she couldn't help the jealousy that seeped into her as she watched her brother and his wife.
Following the breakfast and the gifts that were more so for Joffrey than Margaery, she found herself in her chambers, waiting for her ladies to come and assist her in getting ready. She sat and stared at herself in the mirror. Getting ready was a waste. This wedding, the money spent on it would amount to nothing.
A quiet knock came on Margaery's door, and she stood and opened it, finding Elinor and Mariah standing there. Margaery's thoughts were quickly silenced at the sight of the Dornish Princess.
"Hello," Elinor greets as she looks down at Mariah, "Someone wanted to help their future Queen get ready."
Margaery's lips spread in a wide smile as she kneels before Mariah, "Is that so?"
Mariah nods her head and Margaery's smile widens in response as she picks up her niece and brings her inside. Elinor follows them, closing the door behind her. Margaery sits Mariah down in front of her vanity.
"Would you be alright with me helping you get ready first?" Margaery asks.
Mariah nods once again and Margaery grins as she grabs a brush and begins brushing through Mariah's dark strands. Elinor takes a seat on Margaery's bed, watching the two of them with a small smile.
"Will I be Queen someday?" Mariah asks, her legs swinging in her seat.
Margaery laughs, "Perhaps if you marry a prince."
"I want to marry a prince like Papa!"
"Your Papa isn't a prince, he's a lord," Elinor explains to her daughter. Mariah frowns as she looks over at her mother.
"But you're a princess, doesn't that make Papa a prince?" Mariah asks, before she lets out a gasp, "Doesn't that make me a princess?"
Elinor and Margaery exchange a glance wondering how they could explain the difficulties of titles to Mariah who was only five and couldn't quite comprehend why she was a Dornish Princess and a Highgarden Lady.
"You are a Dornish Princess," Elinor confirms, "But you are also a Lady of Highgarden."
"And someday when you are older, you may rule Highgarden as your Papa will," Margaery says as she kisses the side of her niece's head.
Mariah seems contented with the answer as she turns around and lets Margaery do her hair. They lapse into silence and when Margaery finishes with Mariah's hair, her face lights up and she needs to show her Uncle Loras and Aunt Nymeria. Elinor laughs as she walks her daughter over to see her aunt who promises to take her to her uncle before returning to Margaery.
"Are you nervous about today?" Elinor asks as she enters the room, standing behind Margaery who was occupying the seat Mariah had recently abandoned.
"The Storming of King's Landing," Margaery states, "The Lannisters came into the city. The Mad King thought he was saved. Then Jamie Lannister stabbed him in the back."
"I know the story," Elinor says softly. Margaery knew Elinor was aware of the story. She'd known the story longer than Margaery had. The murder and rape of her aunt and cousins. It was the reason that they had all banded together. It was the reason why they wanted to remove the Lannisters.
"What if they don't show?" Margaery asks, "What if I must stay married to Joffrey? Elinor, I won't-"
"I won't let you marry Joffrey," Elinor says, "If the storming doesn't happen, I will ensure that your wedding to Joffrey does not get consummated."
Margaery looks at Elinor's reflection in the mirror, "And how do you intend to do that?"
"I have my tricks," Elinor says with a small smile.
"What happens after?" Margaery questions, "Who sits on the Iron Throne?"
"That is none of our concern," Elinor states, "You will be in the North with Robb Stark. You only need to give him at least three children, secure your place, and then the two of you may carry on as you like."
"His mistress can give him children," Margaery says, "I only want to spend my days in Dorne with you."
"You will," Elinor says, "Once you've given Robb three children."
Margaery sighs, "I just want to get the day over with."
Elinor's hand found Margaery's shoulders and she squeezed gently as she leaned forward near Margaery's ear, "What can I do to make this day better?"
Margaery looks down and turns her face slightly toward Elinor. Their noses brush and Margaery brings her hand up, cupping Elinor's cheek. She leans in and kisses Elinor, her eyes fluttering shut as their lips do their familiar dance.
There's a knock on the door and the two women quickly jump apart as the door opens and Garlan enters the room. Margaery looks at her older brother, as her tongue traces over her bottom lip. Elinor runs her fingers through her hair, flipping it to the side.
Garlan doesn't comment but it's evident on his face that he knows. Instead, he looks at Margaery, "Are you ready?"
Margaery looks over at Elinor who gives her a small nod. Margaery looks back at her brother and sighs, "Let's get this over with."
"The Northman have made their way south from the Riverlands," Garlan tells his sister as they walk out of her chambers, Elinor trailing behind, "Every man from the Reach and Dorne are armed. As soon as the wedding feast begins, the attack begins." Garlan stops walking and looks at Margaery, his lips lifting in a small smile, "Do not worry sister. You won't be married to the monster long."
"I should go find Willas," Elinor says, and the Tyrell siblings glance over at her. Margaery reaches out for Elinor's hand. She doesn't want to let her go. Elinor offers Margaery a smile and places her hand atop Margaery's.
"Everything will be alright," Elinor reassures her as she lifts Margaery's hand to her lips, placing a gentle kiss atop it, "I promise."
"We promise," Garlan states.
Margaery nods her head and takes a breath as she lets go of Elinor.
"Just focus on me the entire time," Elinor says, "Don't think of anything else."
Margaery nods her head.
The Great Sept of Baelor stood resplendent, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens. Inside its sacred halls, the air was heavy with anticipation as the noble families gathered to witness the union of Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey Baratheon. Margaery's gown flowed around her, adorned with intricate embroidery and delicate lace, a vision of beauty befitting a queen.
As the ceremony commenced, Margaery's eyes scanned the grand chamber, searching for familiar faces among the crowd. Her eyes found Elinor who held William in her arms. Elinor's eyes locked with hers and a gentle smile spread on her lips encouraging Margaery.
Joffrey, looking somewhat handsome in royal attire, stood beside Margaery, his hand extending to clasp hers. His voice echoed through the hall as he recited the vows, but Margaery's attention drifted, lost in a sea of memories and desire.
She thought of stolen moments with Elinor, the stolen glances and secret smiles they shared whenever their paths crossed. She recalled the way Elinor's laughter lit up her world, the way her touch set her heart ablaze with a warmth she had never known before. And as the weight of the impending marriage pressed upon her, Margaery couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if she could wed the one she truly loved.
As the High Septon declared them man and wife, Margaery forced a smile, masking the turmoil within her. The guests erupted into applause, their cheers and well wishes drowning out the whisper of her heart. She accepted Joffrey's kiss, but at that moment, her thoughts turned to Elinor—her heart ached, knowing that their love could never be openly acknowledged.
As the feast began, Margaery played her role, the picture-perfect queen, captivating the court with her charm and grace. But behind her regal facade, her thoughts strayed to Elinor, wondering how she was faring. Her eyes drifted to Elinor a few times, watching as she smiled and laughed with her father. She was watching as she and Willas doted over Mariah and William.
Margaery was ready for Joffrey to die.
The grand wedding feast in King's Landing was a sight to behold, dazzling with lavish decorations, flowing wine, and a seemingly endless array of sumptuous dishes. The air was alive with laughter and merriment as the guests celebrated the union of Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell.
During the revelry, Joffrey sat regally at the royal table, wearing a crown adorned with golden antlers. He raised a goblet of wine to his lips, his eyes glinting with a cruel delight. Margaery stood by his side, her expression carefully composed, concealing her true feelings.
Olenna glances over at the table seating her grandson and the Martells. She meets the gaze of Oberyn Martell who locks eyes with her and raises his goblet as though offering a toast. Olenna doesn't react as she looks over at her granddaughter who is wearing the falsest of smiles.
"A toast," Joffrey says as he rises to his feet. He glances down at Margaery, a wide smile on his lips. He holds up his goblet and he looks truly happy and not like the monstrous young king he is, "To my queen and our prosperous reign!"
There are cheers from the crowd as Joffrey takes a sip of his wine. Margaery brings her wine to her lips, but she doesn't drink. She sets the goblet down and looks up at Joffrey with a smile. Joffrey's eyes scan over the crowd as though looking for a victim. He sets his sights on his uncle and his smile widens.
Tyrion called for another cup of wine but suddenly he felt Ser Garlan's hand on his sleeve. "My lord, beware," the knight warned. "The king."
Tyrion turned in his seat. Joffrey was almost upon him, red-faced and staggering, wine slopping over the rim of the great golden wedding chalice he carried in both hands. "Your Grace," was all he had time to say before the king upended the chalice over his head. The wine washed down over his face in a red torrent. It drenched his hair, stung his eyes, burned in his wound, ran down his cheeks, and soaked the velvet of his new doublet.
"How do you like that, Imp?" Joffrey mocked. Margaery watched with a frown, and she looked over at Elinor who was clutching her daughter closer.
Tyrion's eyes were on fire. He dabbed at his face with the back of a sleeve and tried to blink the world back into clarity.
"That was ill done, Your Grace," he heard Ser Garlan say quietly.
"Not at all, Ser Garlan." Tyrion dared not let this grow any uglier than it was, not here, with half the realm looking on. "Not every king would think to honor a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled."
"It didn't spill," said Joffrey, too graceless to take the retreat Tyrion offered him. "And I wasn't serving you, either."
Margaery appeared suddenly at Joffrey's elbow, trying to placate the monster, "My sweet king, come, return to your place, another singer is waiting."
"Alaric of Eysen," said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane and taking no more notice of the wine-soaked dwarf than her granddaughter had done. "I do so hope he plays us 'The Rains of Castamere.' It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes."
"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well," said Margaery. "Your Grace, please."
"I have no wine," Joffrey declared. "How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust, you'll be my cupbearer."
"I would be most honored."
"It's not meant to be an honor!" Joffrey screamed. "Bend down and pick up my chalice." Tyrion did as he was bid, but as he reached for the handle Joff kicked the chalice through his legs.
"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?" He had to crawl under the table to find the thing. "Good, now fill it with wine." He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. "No, on your knees, dwarf." Kneeling, Tyrion raised the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table.
"You can get up now, Uncle." His legs cramped as he tried to rise, and almost spilled him again. Tyrion had to grab hold of a chair to steady himself. Ser Garlan lent him a hand. Joffrey laughed, and Cersei did as well. Then others. He could not see who, but he heard them.
"Your Grace." Lord Tywin's voice was impeccably correct. "They are bringing in the pie. Your sword is needed."
"The pie?" Joffrey took his queen by the hand. "Come, my lady, it's the pie."
The guests stood, shouting and applauding and smashing their wine cups together as the great pie made its slow way down the length of the hall, wheeled along by a half-dozen beaming cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown, and they could hear squeaks and thumpings coming from inside it.
Margaery stood with Joffrey and she looked over where her brothers were sitting. She looked over at Elinor just as her father whispered something in her ear. Elinor nodded her head as she stood from the seat, carrying William. Nymeria rose as well with Mariah in her arms. To Margaery that was a sign that the attack was about to begin.
Margaery looked over at Cersei who was watching as Elinor and Nymeria began to walk away. She looks back at Joffrey who is chopping away at the pie, killing half the doves within. A roar of delight went up from the benches, and the fiddlers and pipers in the gallery began to play a sprightly tune.
Joffrey got a slice of pie and began eating away at it. Margaery accepted her plate, but she didn't eat it, she couldn't because she was too nervous. She looked at Joffrey and forced a smile, trying not to give anything away.
"It's good." Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another fistful. "Dry, though. Needs washing down." Joffrey took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently. "I want..." Joffrey's words were broken up by a fit of coughing.
Margaery looked at him with concern. "Your Grace?"
"It's, kof, the pie, noth—kof, pie." Joffrey took another drink or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red. "I, kof , I can't. . . " The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine ran across the ground.
"He's choking!" Margaery exclaims as she sets her plate down and tries to play the role of the concerned wife. Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing bloody gouges in the flesh. Beneath the skin, the muscles stood out hard as stone.
Her grandmother moved to her side. "Help the poor boy!"
Margaery heard the sound of metal being drawn before she saw it. In the chaos of Joffrey choking, weapons had been drawn. She looked up to see her brothers both with swords pointed at Tywin and Jaime. Around the wedding weapons were being drawn, swords and spears. Tywin looks around alarmed caught off guard by the attack.
"My son!" Cersei screams, but she's restrained to her seat as a nicely placed blade is drawn and held to her throat. Margaery looks up to see Elinor standing there, a dagger held to the Queen Mother's throat.
"It seems the city is surrounded, Lord Tywin," Oberyn says as she stands and walks over to the table, "Where is the Mountain now?"
"Our numbers are double yours," Tywin states.
"Oh is it?"
Tywin's frown deepens as Robb and several Northern men enter the garden.
"The Young Wolf," Tywin states, "We finally meet."
"You were expecting me to be dead, weren't you? You. Walder Frey. Roose Bolton," Robb states, "It was clever."
"So clever indeed that we were inspired," Oberyn states with a smile, "I have waited for this day, ever since my sister's death."
Margaery looks over at Joffrey and her breath catches at the sight. Joffrey's face was purple, blood was pooling out of his nose. He was dead. She looks back at the Lannisters, surrounded by enemies. No plan. No escape. A dynasty that could be ended.
"Surely you are aware that we have the right to a trial?" Tywin states.
"There will be no trial," Robb states, "My father didn't receive one. Elia Martell didn't."
Robb looks over at his men, "Take them to the dungeons. I want them guarded day and night."
"Kill all Lannister guards," Oberyn orders and the slaughter begins.
Elinor leans close to Cersei's ear, "What was it you said about me ending up like my aunt?"
"I will kill you for this," Cersei spits, "I will-"
"You'll what? End up a story that parents tell their children to frighten them? Cersei Lannister, the woman best known for fucking her brother and threatening little girls." Elinor responds, as she yanks Cersei to her feet and shoves her in the direction of a Northern guard, "Take her to the cells."
Margaery walked over to Garlan, "The poison?"
"Grandmother's," Garlan informs her, "We didn't tell you because we wanted your reaction to be genuine."
"Why poison him?" Margaery wonders as she looks over to where Joffrey's body is being carried away.
"Elinor suggested it," Garlan says, and Margaery quickly looks up at her brother, "Even if that attack failed today she wanted to ensure that you didn't have to be wed to him."
Margaery should have known. A smile settles on her lips. Her Elinor was full of surprises.
Robb Stark makes his way over to Margaery with a smile on his face, "Lady Margaery."
"King Robb," Margaery states.
"We are to be married. You may call me Robb."
"Then I am to be just Margaery," she says holding her hand out to him, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You as well," Robb says as she takes her hand and gently kisses the back of it. Margaery laughs at the gesture, not because she's flattered but because it was evident Robb Stark loved another, just as she did.
"The fall of the Lannisters," Loras says with a grin, "I used to dream of this day."
"As did I," Oberyn says with a smile.
"What will we do with them?" Elinor asks her father.
Oberyn looks over at Robb, "We shall decide their fate as a council. The Lannisters have all taken someone from us. It is time for justice."
"I agree," Robb states. Oberyn gives him a nod of respect which Robb reciprocates. Oberyn then looks over at Arthur and smiles at his son.
Elinor walks over to Margaery with a smile, "Sorry you were only queen for an hour."
Margaery shakes her head, "You are so sneaky."
"Sneaky?" Elinor asks innocently, "I've no idea what you mean."
"Thank you," Margaery says.
"You know I'd do anything for you," Elinor says, "Even orchestrate the death of a king."
"Robb!" Sansa exclaimed as she ran over to her brother. Robb let out a hearty laugh as he picked his sister up and spun her around. Elinor and Margaery both looked over at the reunion, watching with smiles.
"My you are almost taller than me," Robb says, "Mother is going to be excited to see you."
"Mother?" Sansa asks lighting up, "What about Arya, Bran, and Rickon?"
"We'll find them," Robb assures his little sister. Sansa nods her head and Robb smiles as he pulls his sister into his arms once more.
Elinor smiles at the sight. The Lannisters had hurt so many. They'd torn families apart. But justice had been served, and their reign was no more.