Clash of Wills

There are some moments in life, which matter infinitely more than the rest. The day you are born and the day you die, for one thing. The day you get married, have children and so on. Special days, on which you were supposed to die. 

Yes, that last one in particular.

Margaery Tyrell had been married to three kings, something she believed no woman has ever done before. After all, don't we live in man's world, where women are mere broodmares, destined for marriage alliances and furthering family lines? It is what the Faith teaches you, if you have the wits the understand its teachings. Nevertheless, in Margaery's case it was the husbands that changed. 

Renly.

Joffrey.

Tommen. Sweet Tommen, who jumped off a window as soon as he saw the monstrosity his deranged mother had accomplished. Death in wildfire for all who had opposed her ascent to power.

And that is all she wanted. Power. And why? 

If you would do dreadful things to obtain power, shouldn't you have some goal, some desire beyond simple power? She hadn't. Her craving for power was based merely on her envy for being denied power on account of her gender. Power for power's sake and nothing else. An empty reason, in Margaery's not so humble opinion. 

Yes, she craved to be queen too, once upon a time. She had a reason though. From the times she was a young girl, she wanted to help people, to make their lives better. Margaery hated seeing people begging on the streets. Some might say that she was simply a gardener, who hated seeing weevils in her garden. Perhaps. Yet if she were to improve the lives of millions, then what did it matter? 

Queen, whose purpose was to help people. That was what she wanted. Simple, yet the queen mother couldn't grasp such complicated notions. She could not understand that the Tyrells did not have to be her rivals, merely people she had to share power with. That is all. The woman couldn't also figure out that nobody allowed women to have power just like that.

They had to take it.

Just like the new queen: Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains, Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons. 

So many titles. 

When she first heard the lovely Naathi girl list them all like some sermon from the Seven Pointed Star, she figured the new queen was arrogant. How not? She was the first woman in history to have forced the Dothraki to submit to her. All of them, all of these destroyers of countless now nameless civilizations. Not to mention the dragons.

The dragons could not go without saying. 

Three dragons - one as black as night, one as green as grass and one as white as marble. The living embodiments of her power, a power her house used to possess more than a hundred years ago. Theirs, until they lost it. 

She would have thought the Unburnt part to have been just an idle boast, until the new queen shoved her hand in the lit brazier in front of the whole court.

Power. 

Yes, it all amounted to power in the end. There was nothing that could stand in the way of simple, pure power. Even the power of gold could be turned impotent in the face of true power.

Margaery had barely escaped from the burning sept. Sadly alone. Loras, father and countless more all died in Cersei's inferno. She herself fled the city only by the grace of the kindness of the people, who gave her a horse and piled on top of Cersei's tugs, while the now former queen fled south, riding as fast as possible towards Highgarden, all the while crying for her slaughtered family and all those poor, ignorant souls who drowned in Cersei's fiery hate.

Her brother, sweet Willas, cried for the dead, while her grandmother plotted revenge. Upon going to Sunspear, she found the way.

Fire and blood.

Embroiled in their petty civil wars, the Lannisters and the Baratheons had forgotten about the Targaryens - the last of them had hatched dragons and forged armies out of thin air and was now sailing west to claim her father's throne for her own. Without even lifting a finger, this dragon queen had secured two kingdoms and she had the vile Cersei to thank, the newest ass to perch itself atop the Iron Throne - the greatest symbol of power on the continent that attracted all like moths to a flame.

Yet fire cannot hurt a dragon. Perhaps that is why the Targaryens kept it for 300 years, while the Baratheons and Lannisters could barely keep to it. But no, that is unfair. Robert Baratheon managed to hold it for 17 years, even if he never truly ruled himself. Yet didn't he also die miserably - a failure as a king, husband and father. Father in particular, given that none of his golden heirs were truly his own.

If she had to associate the recent generation of monarchs with those of old, she would compare Robert to Aegon the Unworthy and Viserys I. Careless monarchs, especially the former who was ruled solely by his lusts. The latter was a good one, but careless still and his demise too brought forth a civil war.

Renly was like Daeron the Young Dragon. Not a bad monarch per se, but ignorant of what truly meant to be king. And that was more than just putting on a crown, dressing and talking well and calling for war and banners.

Stannis was like Maekar, largely insignificant yet efficient. Not a man people would love though. That was what doomed him. That and preaching for a foreign god in Westeros.

Joffrey was like Maegor the Cruel. Or perhaps even Aerys the Mad. The Gods had taken him before it showed. Well, the Gods and my dear grandmother.

Tommen was Aenys. Weak, soft and unfortunately raised poorly. Another one of the "achievements" of Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys was Aegon with teats. That is what men said of the queen, who made Cersei's reign last for merely a moon's turn. She was more than that though - she was Good Queen Alysanne and Aegon the Unlikely, who wanted to make the lives of the smallfolk better. She was Jaehaerys the Wise, who wanted to improve upon what she saw in front of her, for she knew it was false and in need of improvement. 

Most would easily mistake that last behavior as arrogance, yet what if she indeed knew better? She did, Margaery had quickly learned that, too.

"Befriend the new queen, Margaery. Make her love us." 

Those were the words of her grandmother. She still vied for power, to plant deep roots for the new regime. Then again, such was the Queen of Thorns. The Dragon Queen had no need of consorts. And why would she? Husbands would only trouble her reign and confuse people as to where the power is.

She needed no marriage alliances, not really. She had dragons and men enough to take everything she wanted. And heirs, she had that, too.

Rhaego was a sweet boy. Five years old, knew several languages already, had his mother's silver hair and his father's copper skin. Margaery was certain that women would fight for the Eastern Heir, as they called him. The world had though the child dead in childbirth, yet it was not, merely hidden and passed off as a servant's brat in order to hide it from potential assassins. A clever plot indeed, given the fact that the Lannisters did not shy away from butchering people at weddings.

Some complained that he was the son of a savage, while others said that it wasn't even Khal Drogo's son but of another Dothraki lover. The latter was extremely improbable, given the fact that the child was five years old, meaning that he was born during the Queen's marriage to the late horselord. As for the former, well....it was still the son of the queen. An heir, young enough to be raised in Westerosi manner and unmarried. That last bit especially.

How quickly did small minded prejudices wither away in the face of power! And who had more power than a dragon?

Daenerys had landed on Dragonstone as expected by all aware of her coming. Cersei had allied herself with the Iron Fleet of Euron Greyjoy. He was the uncle of Yara Greyjoy, the pretender to the Iron Islands who had allied with Daenerys. 

It hadn't mattered in the end. Daenerys had decided to show all of Westeros that she had need of no allies. She had Westeros by the throat and showed it to all of Westeros, when she burnt down the so-called Iron Fleet with her dragons. Margaery had watched it happen from the deck of one of Yara's ships. It was pretty in a way, the thousand ships burning like candles, while the dragons swooped up and down in the skies like a dance. 

Unhindered, Daenerys ordered the fleets of her allies to sail towards King's Landing and took the city by storm. Its defenders were incapable of mounting a proper defense in such a short time and in the end, the city fell.

People cheered for their conqueror. And why not, when the current queen was such a horrid person? Why not, when their beloved Margaery stood by Daenerys' side? Surely Daenerys would be a good person then? They must have asked themselves.

Cersei had tried to carve a bloody path through them by sending forth the monstrous Gregor Clegane, who was immediately reduced to ashes by Drogon's fiery breath. Cersei and her brother were chained and gagged and delivered to the new queen. 

Unsurprisingly, Daenerys was all too keen on giving her allies exactly what they wanted from her - revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

"You brought this on yourself." is what the Rose of Highgarden told the fallen queen, right before she was torn apart by Drogon, the cruel dragon all too eager to enjoy himself. Was it savage? Of course. Did anyone care? Not really.

Only one, maybe two people.

The two Lannister brothers were not quite so eager to watch their sister die as the rest of the bloodthirsty audience. Jaime struggled to help her, but was kept back by the fierce Dothraki, who cheered for their Khaleesi's victory. Tyrion said nothing, but grief was all too easy to read on his face. Perhaps his anger at his sister's abuses had faded somewhat. Perhaps he was merely sad that the last person he could blame for his faults was gone. It hadn't mattered much in the end. He was the Hand of the Queen and now finally The Lord of Casterly Rock. He had won, too. On the ashes of his family.

The Day of Reckoning they would call it. Justice for all the crimes committed by the Lannisters, they said. Funny how so many of them were cheering for the Lannisters. Even proud Lord Tarly, whom Margaery had little doubt would have sided with Cersei if he saw it as a way to obtain Highgarden. 

It didn't matter anyway. 

Daenerys was crowned queen by the new High Septon and a new age began. The Second Age of the Dragon. 

As for Margaery....well, she had to become friends with the queen. And so she had. Walks in the gardens, inspecting the troops, giving her good advice, talking about their past. It was Margaery who had advised Daenerys to end the war quickly, instead of relying on symbolic victories, as Tyrion suggested. Take King's Landing and be done with it. The victims of a potential siege of the city would have been more than the few dozen men who died in her assault. 

And the queen was grateful. She had invited her to be there beside her at the coronation, to braid their hair. Margaery was repulsed by Dothraki savagery, yet she loved their way of showing victories by braiding their hair and putting bells in it. The Queen had about a dozen bells in hers. 

They often talked in the royal bedchambers. She had been there before, but now it looked like the Dragon's den, instead of a hall of stags. What manner of warriors so fierce would place deer on their sigils? is what she wondered the first time she witnessed the black stag on a yellow field. The Queen and Margaery often talked of the state of the realm, the Young Rose giving suggestions, some of which the Dragoness implemented in her own ideology, which was not too dissimilar to Margaery's own. They also talked of their pasts. Daenerys often exclaimed her jealousy at Margaery's idyllic childhood, while the Tyrell would express her admiration for the queen's survival skills and strength of character.

"I would have never survived what your Grace went through."

"You are a survivor, too. Or did you forget how you survived Cersei?" How could she? She wished she did, alas that day would haunt her forever.

Seeing her sadness, the queen said: "I am sorry for reminding you of your grief. Those who had part in it suffered the justice they deserved." And they did. Apart from Cersei, the other person involved was a former maester Qyburn, who was promptly relieved of his head. The abhorrent madman had performed unspeakable atrocities to the Red Keep's prisoners in the name of his experiments.

"I know. Thanks to you."

One night, she had taken the risk of kissing the queen's lips. It was an impulse, a desire, an attraction. Regardless of what it were, the queen returned the favor and for the fourth time and Margaery found herself inside a royal bed. Again.

When the queen pressed Margaery's face to her core, the Tyrell got to work, pumping her fingers inside the royal cunt, lapping at her juices, all the while looking up with glee at the queen, possessed by pleasure. The situation soon got mirrored, when it was Margaery who was pressing those silver curls into her core and moaned at the obviously experienced woman's skill.

Margaery Tyrell never defined herself like her brother, she took her pleasure wherever she found it, yet now she could not imagine doing so with anyone else.

"I am not your first monarch, am I?" Questioned the young queen in the morning. Both of them shared a musky embrace, naked and uncovered without a care in the world.

"No. But you are the first one I feel a desire for, as difficult as it may be to believe so, my queen."

"Daenerys." she said. "You may call me so, when in private. And I know you are honest."

"How?" Margaery was intrigued. She was such a good liar, that sometimes she could fool even herself. 

"I've learned from Lord Tyrion that the best lies are the ones said with belief in them. But there is something else. You speak quite freely with me."

"I speak quite freely with everyone."

"Yes, but I suppose this is the first time you are honest. Completely so. Your voice is sweet, yet honest and one I need to heed on occasion, to remind myself that violence is not the only way to build a better world."

"Then I suppose it is only fair to admit my desires for the queen's body." she answered. Daenerys was right. This was the first time, in probably a very long while, that Margaery Tyrell wore no mask. She didn't have to pretend to care for Renly's crown, to be as cruel as Joffrey or the mother, Tommen never had. She was bare, in every sense of the word, and by all the Gods, Daenerys had broken Margaery's invisible chains as well.

"Your Queen should warn you that she does not approve of "one-night-stands". 

"Good thing that her Lady Margaery does not care for one-night-stands and offers a more permanent arrangement."

"I would like that very much." the queen replied with a smile and kissed her lips. "I've been with a woman before, but you are the first one to inspire such...imagination from me."

Margaery chuckled. "I am glad to have inspired such imagination in my queen."

"You will inspire more."

"However will you keep me at court, I wonder?" she teased. Margaery in truth had no desire to leave and knew that her grandmother and brother would never make her do so, especially after they learn of the recent developments. 

"The Moonsinger's faith allows them to take on the social role of the gender they prefer. If I chose to live as a man, I could take you as my wife." Daenerys mused and Margaery was not entirely sure if the queen was honest or not.

"I meant for Westerosi acceptable solutions, my queen."

"Oh, then I suppose I will make you my Lady-in-waiting."

"Lovely, I just hope you won't give your bed to any other of your ladies-in-waiting."

"I need to have more than one?"

"Ah, we have much to discuss then."

"I might as well make you my seneschal as well then."

"I will share my exasperations with your lack of court etiquette with Missandei, then. She must have some experience."

Speaking of the devil, a knock was heard and Missandei was allowed entry.

"Your Grace and....Lady Margaery. How surprising it is to see you here?!" Judging by the smirk on her face, it was not much of a surprise.

"Please, I bet you knew we would end up like this long before either of us suspected so."

"I was growing tired of waiting, Khaleesi. Tyrion almost won the bet."

"You were betting on how long it would take us to sleep together?" Daenerys asked bewildered.

"Yes and I won a golden dragon. Thank you for initiating things, lady Margaery. I am sure it was so."

"You are welcome, Missandei. And please call me Margaery."

"I will. Shall I help you prepare for today's small council meeting?"

"Of course."

And so she had prepared. Both of them had dressed exquisitely, Daenerys in a fearsome looking dress of black and red, while Margaery was dressed in her golden and green colors. Margaery arrived at the small council chamber first, her grandmother being the only other person present.

"My dear, you appear to be glowing. I trust that this is the result of the reason why you never got back to your bedchambers tonight?" Her grandmother as always knew all. Were she and Lord Varys related perhaps?

"My evening was lovely, dear grandmother. The queen's company was most lovely."

"Oh, gods...." Olenna Tyrell shook her head. "There is that look I remember your father had after he met your mother. You are in love, aren't you?"

"And what if I am? You said that I were supposed to befriend the queen. I have found the desire for more than just friendship."

"Don't get me wrong, dear. I am happy for you." she sighed. "Well, I suppose you will simply be the first to revive that old fad. Though perhaps, once Willas gives me some grandchildren, you might be able to convince the queen to-"

Her grandmother's thought was fortunately interrupted by the entrance of Missandei, followed by Daenerys and the rest of the small council.

The queen sat at the head of the table and Margaery sat to her right. An amused smirk on his lips, Tyrion sat to the queen's left, followed by Missandei. Next to her sat Grey Worm, the Master of War, followed by Lord Paxter Redwyne as Master of ships; Varys as Master of whisperers; Willas as Master of Laws and the newly arrived Grand Maester Marwyn. Ser Jorah Mormont, recently healed from Greyscale by Marwyn, had taken the post of Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Lord Randyll Tarly was invited out of courtesy, but the queen had insisted to invite Queen Yara Greyjoy, her brother Theon and Ellaria Sand, so they had little choice in the matter.

"I must admit, I have had dreams of finally sitting at this table." The queen began. "Much less crowded though." some chuckled at the queen's jape, but soon resumed their seriousness. "Now. Let's talk of the state of the realm. First things first, as promised beforehand, I recognize the Ironborn's independence, so long as they respect the terms of our agreement."

"Aye, no pillaging, raping and so on."

"And what else do the ironborn know to do?" Lord Randyll questioned. 

"Gutting men." Yara sneered. "But I have given my word that my people will learn new ways of making a living and I have some ideas, which with the queen's support I will implement."

"Of course." Daenerys confirmed. "These are days of great change, my lords. The Ironborn becoming good neighbors will be just an example of the sort of thing I mean." Daenerys turned towards Ellaria. "Have you thought on my proposal, my lady?"

"Yes. In the absence of any other Martells, I will recommend my daughter, Elia Sand be fostered here as the future Princess of Dorne, when she comes of age." 

It had been a bitter pill to swallow, when Daenerys and Margaery had discussed how Ellaria, their ally, came to power in the first place. Daenerys did not approve of Ellaria staying in power any longer than necessary, but Dorne too needed stability. Unwilling to let any of the other kinslayers, who hailed from Obery Martell's loins, to inherit Sunspear, Daenerys and Margaery wanted one of his younger  daughters to inherit. As such, they choose the eldest daughter of Oberyn and Ellaria herself, Elia. The girl was 15 years old and had taken no part in the kinslaying. More to the point, she was Oberyn's daughter by a noble lady and bore the name of the butchered Princess Elia Martell. 

"Then I shall sign a royal decree, naming Elia Sand as Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. You, lady Ellaria, will serve as her regent until the girl comes of age." With the legal age of maturity being 16, that was not much time.

"Now, how many regions do we control?"

It was Lord Tyrion's turn to speak. "My Queen, Dorne, The Reach and the Crownlands stand firmly behind you. The Westerlands have sent a letter, accepting me as your Lord Paramount of said region and a delegation from Casterly Rock will arrive within a fortnight to bend the knee in person. As per your orders, my brother will be confined there as is to be his sentence for failing to protect Princess Elia and her children." A small price, yet small mercy was earned, when Daenerys had learnt the true reason for Aerys' murder. "The Stormlords have arrived this morning, bringing a boy named Edric Storm, who happens to be the eldest of Robert's bastards and the only one I know to have survived Joffrey's massacre of them."

"They wish for us to legitimize him?" Margaery asked and Tyrion nodded.

"Very well." The queen answered. "If the boy bends the knee and relinquishes any claim towards the throne, once held by his father the Usurper, I will name him Edric Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. He would do so tomorrow, in front of the Iron Throne."

"I will inform the delegation after the council, my queen."

"My Queen, forgive me but will the Dothraki pose a....problem for the residents of Westeros?" asked her brother.

"You mean, whether they are going to pillage for fun?"

"Yes, well they have a reputation."

"I understand your concerns, my lord. The Dothraki indeed have such a reputation for violence, yet they will do as I command and will not cause trouble to innocent folk."

"Forgive me, your Grace, but how can you be sure?"

"Because if whoever breaks the Queen's peace will suffer the Queen's justice." Daenerys coldly stated. "That rule applies to everyone in Westeros and I mean everyone."

"What of the North?" her grandmother asked, for once relieving people of a tense subject rather than adding to the discussion.

The question chilled the Imp, for both he and Margaery knew it was no easy subject. 

"The North has been retaken by House Stark, led by Jon Snow and his wife Lady Sansa Stark."

"Isn't she his sister?" her grandmother quipped. "Then again, your Grace has no right to judge."

"I couldn't care less of their relationship. What bothers me is the title he bears. King in the North."

"It's Robb Stark all over again, Your Grace." Lord Varys spoke in his wispy voice. "With the Freys mysteriously butchered, half the Riverlands have declared their support for the North and claim themselves part of that so-called kingdom. The Valemen do not go to such lengths, yet Lord Royce has marched all his banners to support the Northern regime, with the approval of Lord Arryn and his Lord Protector, Petyr Baelish."

"That man is a snake, my queen. You should not trust him." Margaery exclaimed and Daenerys, rather publicly, placed her palm over hers. 

"Fret not, my lady. I have heard plenty of Lord Littlefinger's plotting nature."

"My queen, this Baelish has sent us information about the northern court. He says that Jon Snow and Sansa Stark's marriage has recently produced a daughter, one Lyanna Stark. He also pledges the Vale to you." the Grand Maester informed.

"Baelish is simply playing both sides." Tyrion scoffed.

"He is a dangerous foe. It would be wrong to underestimate him." her Grandmother warned. And of course she knew. They conspired to murder a king after all.

"In that case Lord Varys, please send to Winterfell a letter, thanking Lord Baelish for his pledge of fealty to House Targaryen and his promised support in handling the North. Make sure that such a letter arrives in the hands of the Starks themselves."

Margaery couldn't help but grin in admiration of her queen's fast learning of the game. The Starks will kill Baelish and with a little luck will shake their Vale alliance. "An excellent plan, my queen."

"Sent to the Riverlords promises of food and support in rebuilding their ravaged by Lannisters homeland, if they pledge for me. I want you to imply that Lord Tully's cooperation is not necessary for the Riverlands' survival. Let's see if the Tully traitors are replaceable in the minds of the Rivermen."

"They have changed several dynasties over the years, my queen. We will have support there, I know it." Willas noted. 

"Sent a letter to Lord Arryn, too. And one to Winterfell. Invite Jon Snow to sent a representative to negotiate about the future of the realm. Lord Tyrion loves to remind me of the sensibilities and sense of responsibility of House Stark. Let's see if it is truly so. I hope that my Lady Margaery will be willing to be my ambassador."

"I would be honored to represent your interests, my queen. The Starks won't come to the Red Keep though." Margaery noted. "They have had too many dreadful experiences here. Your father's deeds and Joffrey's."

"Not here then." Daenerys rose from her seat and approached the map of Westeros, hanging on the wall. "Harrenhal." she pointed with those clever fingers of hers. "That is where it will happen."

Lord Tarly scoffed. "Why waste time and not just attack them already?"

"Because, Lord Tarly, I have no desire to be queen of the ashes. If all else fails and there is war, it won't be by my own fault."