GOT : Chapter 82

( Margaery POV )

The sun shone through the Red Keep, illuminating the courtyards and the bustling city of King's Landing. This would have been a lovely day, if not for her to have to deal with both the Lannisters and the Dornish. If both on their own were manageable, both at the same time quickly became an issue.

The Westerlanders were somewhat predictable at least, she could give them that. It was easier to deal with the ones you really knew. 

Only Cersei Lannister remained quite the mystery, but this was more due to her being confined to her rooms by the Hand more often than she actually was allowed to go outside. 

The loss of her brother Jaime made sure that the once queen was now only a shadow of her former self, seeing traitors and spies everywhere.

The others were much easier to deal with. Joffrey was cruel and selfish, but he was also prideful and that is where he needed to be struck to control him. However, as predictable as he was, his temper was something she could do little to soothe. 

As for Tywin and Kevan, the older lions, they were equally predictable. All of their tactics revolved around showing a strength they did not truly have but hoped they did. Unfortunately for them, it was house Tyrell that now held the upper hand in this little agreement.

Their thinking made it easy for Margaery to work around them, small roses slowly blooming in the capital, quickly becoming another garden.

The Dornish, on the other hand, was another problem entirely. Dealing with princess Arianne in itself was much harder than all of the lions combined, so she couldn't imagine having to deal with either prince Quentyn, let alone Prince Oberyn.

Yet, she had to. Well, at least, this time the red viper wouldn't be her problem, but her father and grandmother's. It is said that the Red Viper had already made himself famous in the brothels around the capital, and his men had started brawls with Westerlanders and Reachmen alike.

It would be easier to deal with prince Quentyn, she told herself. After all, did she not already know him from these days in Bitterbridge?

The prince was slippery, always following his uncle around, which was…interesting to say the least. Last time, she saw in him a man sure of himself, but not arrogant. 

Him being around a man like prince Oberyn didn't make sense to her, but the Dornish never truly made sense to her in general. 

She knew their terms for peace, and she would be glad to grant it to them. It cost nothing to the Tyrells, and she would be glad to see the beast Clegane gone. As for the promise of a future betrothal, it could be signed on now but waved off later.

However, the Dornish were a singular breed in Westeros. They cared little for the rules which the rest followed, and although their game wasn't great, it stood out for being different from the one everyone played, at least during these past years.

This isolation had made them unpredictable, if not outright dangerous. But now, with the prospect of them being allies and coming into the fold, there was the potential to definitively side-line the Lannisters. And this was likely what her grandmother and father were discussing with Prince Oberyn. In the meantime, she was left with the younger prince.

With a sigh, she resigned herself and walked to where the prince was, observing the city from a balcony.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she called out.

The prince barely registered her presence, so Margaery moved closer. Prince Quentyn wore fine Dornish garments, ornated with complex patterns representing exotic animals such as tigers or elephants, with two daggers on one side, and a simple sword on the other.

One cannot be too prudent, I suppose.

She leaned on the balcony, next to him. To her surprise, it wasn't her that spoke once more, but him.

"I feel like living in Highgarden should have given you an opinion on what is beautiful and what isn't." the prince cut deep, eyeing her suspiciously. "Or have your standards fallen this low?"

"The sun is shining and the birds are chirping," Margaery replied cryptically.

"Yet the people keep grouping together in small houses, the smells stay the same, it is piss and shit and garbage. This city is slowly devolving into a large cesspit, not a capital worthy of the same."

Margaery could only agree. There would need to be substantial modifications if only to alleviate the smell. However, full neighbourhoods would have to be cleaned out, and the Tyrells could not afford this kind of coup at the moment.

"I was talking about the day." Margaery finally replied.

"Oh." The prince eyed her up and down, his scar clearly visible while his brown eyes searched her. "Perhaps. Another day of plots and schemes and whatnot."

"Perhaps you ought to take your head off of such things."

Prince Quentyn's eyes narrowed.

"A game of chess, then?"

Margaery nodded.

It was a Dornish game, close to cyvasse if she remembered correctly, but the rules were much easier to follow, even if the board wasn't as complex. She had played a few games with some of her handmaidens as a Dornishman had gifted a set to one of them.

"It would be a pleasure. My rooms or yours?"

The prince didn't hesitate.

"Yours, if possible. I fear my rooms aren't…proper."

Margaery nodded back and gave her arm, which the prince took gracefully.

As the two walked down the halls of the Red Keep, the prince turned once again to her and asked:

"How does my sister fare in Highgarden?"

"She is acclimating quite well," Margaery replied truthfully. "She and Willas like each other, and it is surely a matter of time before a date for a marriage is set."

"Arianne has chosen, then?" the prince asked nonchalantly.

"In all likelihood."

"And your daughter?"

"Well." Margaery tried not to wince at the mention of Floris. Her daughter was useful to control the Stormlands, and she would have loved to have her with her here, but unfortunately, she knew such a thing was impossible. 

It would only be a matter of time till an unfortunate accident occurred, and an obscure member of the kitchens blamed, if it wasn't a stranger dragged off the streets.

No, Floris had to stay in Highgarden.

Margaery didn't say much more other than nodding to a few passers-byes on her way to her rooms.

"Bigger than mine." The prince smiled slightly as he entered Margaery's large rooms.

"I am to be Queen after all." She reminded him.

"Of course, Lady Margaery."

"I thought that I had told you to call me Margaery at Bitterbridge."

"My apologies." The prince nodded back while Margaery brought out the chess board, with both of them aligning their wooden pieces. It wasn't long till they were playing.

"I saw you were quite attached to your uncle." Margaery brought up the issue, curious as to what the prince would say.

"It's always better to be close to the most dangerous man in Dorne whenever you've got daggers in the dark ready to strike you down."

"I see…" Margaery hummed. "Scared, then?"

"The Lannisters aren't really the ones to let something such as what I did to one of their vassals go lightly. One only needs to look at the Reynes and Tarbecks for that. No…it is much better to put all of the chances on my side."

"Why come here, then?" she asked, ever so slightly curious as she moved a pawn forward.

"I fear you'll have to ask my father that." The prince replied, moving his own forward.

"And have you taken a liking to the brothels of the city, then?" she asked in turn.

"I fear the girls are not very good chess partners." He sighed. "Some of them are getting better, though."

Margaery repressed a laugh.

"And usually." The prince added. "They have the decency to smell nicer than the air outside, even if it is a smell of bodily fluids and perfume. 

Their chairs are comfortable enough, and if my uncle likes to partake in whatever he wants, my paramour and I don't need others to tell us how to do it. 

As I said, my uncle hates being interrupted, and his nephew being attacked by thugs or robbers would not stand."

Margaery didn't have to ask what thugs or robbers were doing in a place like this, nor how they got through the front door.

Instead, she focused on the game, moving her septon forward.

"And where is your uncle now?" she asked.

"Another question to which you have the answer?"

The prince moved another piece.

"Check." He smiled.

Her King was in a vulnerable position now, but it was only a knight protecting it. Thankfully, she had a castle nearby, which promptly ejected the intruder.

The prince winced, clearly not having seen the piece beforehand.

"What do you think will come out of this?" she asked out of hand.

"More than the last conversation between the Queen of Thorns and Lady Ellaria." The prince chuckled. "Although I do say I feel sorry for my uncle."

Prince Quentyn moved another piece forwards, this time urging his pawns upwards, earning a frown from Margaery. One of her castles had been taken for a septon on the Dornishman's side, but it wasn't a worthwhile trade, since he still had both his castles and a pawn had taken out one of her knights.

"Why is that?" Margaery asked, pondering whether she should move her Queen.

"She'll eat him alive." The prince laughed. "I know I wouldn't like to be in a room with her for more than a minute, so I expect the conversation that follows to be as explosive as wildfire if the rumors considering your grandmother are genuine."

"My grandmother certainly doesn't like to be careful with her words."

"Neither does my uncle." The prince scoffed back.

Margaery looked attentive. She eyed the board, looking for a small opening. Finally, she decided to move in and sacrifice a septon to take down one of the castles. However, the prince outmaneuvered her, putting his own septon in front, and letting him take the charge, quickly taking out her own septon with a pawn.

"Afraid the situation isn't going as planned?" the prince asked. "It's rare to see a Tyrell out of their depth these days."

"You play well," Margaery admitted.

"To each his own game. For me it is chess, for you, it is the game of thrones." He shrugged.

Margaery raised an eyebrow, not letting anything through.

"I've seen many players, but none such as you Tyrells." The prince continued. "Always in the shadows, always making themselves small, but in fact, you played your hand perfectly. You are the ones deciding the next move of the crown, whether the Lannisters like it or not."

"The King is a Lannister and a Baratheon, and the Hand is a Lannister." She quickly corrected.

"And I find it amazing how none of those matter. It is as if the King and Hand had relinquished their own power to you. Truly a great stroke." He replied.

"They do hold the power."

"Do they?" he mused. "Whose armies guard the capital? Whose men line the walls? Who keeps the capital fed and clothed?"

Margaery esquissed a small smile.

"Don't undervalue yourself, Margaery." The prince continued, seeing as he was getting no answer. "I like the lions a little less than you do."

She preferred not to answer that. The Spider had eyes and ears everywhere, and although the Dornishman felt confident enough to say something like this, she certainly didn't.

The prince made his own moves on the board. One of his pawns reached the end of the board, which made her frown.

"What piece?" she sighed.

"My knight, if you will."

She placed the piece back on the board, the situation was now dire, but if her Queen could take out his two castles…

"Play slowly." He recommended her.

"And what of you in all of this?" Margaery asked once more.

"I'm just waiting till my father gets bored and sends me home." He shrugged. "Although I intend to stay for your wedding, perhaps a little longer. No more."

"A shame, the capital could use men of your talents. I know the city would benefit from a man who apparently rid Dorne of diseases."

"The smallfolk tend to exaggerate. I did not rid Dorne of all diseases. Merely a few."

Merely. She almost laughed. Ridding a whole kingdom of the plague was a feat in and of itself, but if half of the rumours she heard were true…she just hoped princess Arianne's dowry included much of these miracle recipes.

She looked back at the board, seeing her pieces disappear one by one. Quickly, she took her Queen out, knocking out one of the Dornishman's castles…only to see the knight she'd placed back on the board right behind it, which the prince promptly took out.

It was all over then. In a few strokes, prince Quentyn moved his Queen forwards, surrounding her King with a castle and two knights. Sighing, she tipped her King piece, acknowledging her defeat.

"You played decently well." The prince nodded. "But you need to play more patiently. There is no need to rush, even if you are cornered."

"Every loss is a way to improve." She sighed.

The prince nodded, quickly taking back the pieces and aligning them back on the board.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" Margaery raised an eyebrow.

"What is next for you?" the prince insisted.

"Well, I am to be wed to the King very soon."

"To Joffrey?"

"Have you met him?"

"I try not to."

"He is quite difficult, but…"

"Understatement of the century."

"The quicker we are wed, the sooner it will release some people from their chains." Margaery finally sighed.

"I doubt you will…"

"Come with me." She interrupted him.

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me."

"Where?" the prince asked, suddenly wary.

"The Godswood. Come."

The prince hesitated, but finally nodded, keeping his left hand on his dagger. The pair made their way to the Godswood, probably the quietest part of the entire Keep. It was small but the large heart tree made it look like it took a consequential amount of space.

There was a figure at the bottom of the heart tree, kneeling.

"Lady Sansa?" Margaery spoke softly.

The girl rose slowly, her bright auburn hair a dark contrast to the light background behind her. She turned around, her scarred face quickly coming into view.

She was once a beautiful young maiden, but her beauty was now forever tarnished by the cruelty displayed to her by the Lannisters. Even with a leash, Joffrey had managed to hurt her over and over. And if she didn't need to care for Sansa Stark, Margaery could not help but feel pity for this little girl, roped in a game larger than her, her kin dead, while kept away from her home and brutalized in such away.

She had hoped to wed her to one of her cousins. After all, she deserved a much better life than this, and it would bring the key to the North on their side. At Highgarden, she could be sheltered and brought into a gilded cage, and perhaps she could even see the North again one day as Lady of Winterfell, once the North had been subjugated once and for all.

"Lady Margaery." She nodded. "My lord. We have not yet met."

"We haven't." Prince Quentyn nodded, visibly shocked by the state of the poor girl. "I am not a lord, but a prince, my lady. Prince Quentyn Martell, at your service, but call me Quentyn."

Lady Sansa nodded.

"A pleasure." She whispered.

The prince moved slowly towards her.

"Who did this to you?" he whispered.

Sansa looked at Margaery for a moment, as if seeking approval. Margaery only nodded.

"Joffrey and Queen Cersei. The Kingsguard too." She said. "But I am a traitor's daughter. My brother is a traitor too, and because of this, I deserve what they choose to chastise me with."

The poor girl had been broken. The Lannisters had taken her innocence and youth. All that was left was a broken shell.

The prince though, seemed almost amused, and cracked a slight smile.

"There is hope for you yet." He nodded, not touching Sansa at any point. "Do you come out here often?"

"Yes." She simply replied.

"To pray?"

"I don't pray anymore." Sansa shook her head. "It's just the only place in this place where I am left alone."

"I understand." The prince nodded back. "I am sorry to have caused you inconvenience."

"It's quite alright." She replied softly. "If you are Lady Margaery's friend, you are welcome…sorry…I forgot…"

"Quentyn."

"Quentyn." Sansa closed her eyes. "Forgive me, I do not remember names that well. Dorne is far from the North, we do not learn much about it."

"I'm sure you would like it." Prince Quentyn smiled. "Perhaps you should visit the Water Gardens one day, they are the most beautiful place in the world."

"I'd love to." Sansa sighed. "Perhaps one day…"

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you." The Dornishman retreated back. "We will take our leave."

Sansa nodded sombrely, and went back to kneeling in front of the heart tree.

"Poor girl." Prince Quentyn turned to Margaery once they were out of Sansa's earshot. "The Lannisters did this to her?"

"They did." Margaery replied. "You understand why my marriage would free some people?"

"So that Joffrey would have a new toy?" he asked, frowning.

"That's not…" she started.

"But that is what you think to, is it not?" the prince narrowed his own eyes. "How could you not think about this?"

"I'll pull through."

The Dornishman looked at her, his right eye twitching.

"You are a brave woman, Margaery." He finally let out.

"Not as brave as her." She pointed to the small figure, disappearing behind their footsteps, far into the godswood.

"Brave in your own way." He replied. "You would make a brilliant Queen."

"Let us hope so."

The prince looked pensive as they walked back through the Keep. Through the windows, she noticed that her father's rooms were unlocked, probably indicating that the meeting with prince Oberyn was over.

"You look thoughtful." She nudged him.

"I am." The prince replied.

"What of?"

"Nothing much…just…possibilities." He shook his head. "Thoughts for another day. My paramour is waiting for me, though, I must take my leave."

Margaery didn't point out hat his paramour also turned out to be his cousin, but at this point, there wouldn't be much that the Dornish could to to surprise her.

"I must as well, I must meet my grandmother and see if she has indeed slain your uncle." she smiled back.

The prince chuckled slightly at that.

"Oh, and one more thing before you go." She held his arm before he could scurry off.

"What?" he asked.

"Your friend the young Yronwood has been turning around my ladies in waiting and around one in particular. If he does anything untoward, I'll have him ditched in the stables, do I make myself clear.?

The prince smiled widely at that.

"I'll make sure the message gets through."

With that Margaery left the Dornish prince with a satisfied smile. If the Dornish were still as unpredictable as ever, it seemed that prince Quentyn was a little more amenable this time. The good news for her is that he confirmed what she had thought. 

The Dornish despised the Lannisters, and if they could work with the Tyrells … well … they could very well purge all of the Westerlander influence at court, and if with it they could also secure the North while crushing the Riverlands … well it could all be over before the first days of snow!

The one thing that needed to happen now was the Royal wedding, and she would make sure it would be remembered through the ages as the end of the Lannister age and the start of the Tyrell one.

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