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King's Landing had not truly suited Daenerys when she was half-welcome there, and it suited her even less in the time that had followed Ned Stark's execution. He had been her only protector (and perhaps a grudging one at that) and his guardianship of her the only thing keeping her from being turned fully into the pawn she so dreaded being. It wasn't, she supposed, quite so horrible as the situation poor Sansa found herself in: she had gone through as many horrible things as balanced out the lovely ones she'd been promised when her family was still in the Baratheons' and Lannisters' good graces. She had never been in anyone's good graces, she had been in part a prisoner from the start, now the keys had just been given to a different, admittedly crueler, jailer.

It had always been hers to be polite and demure and apologetic, prove that her blood did not define her loyalty. It had always been hers to pretend where that loyalty did lie (and she had never truly been bothered by the Starks, they had always been, if not warm, then decent to her, but the withering glances she got at court -- to say nothing of the wild-eyed lustful ones -- were not a surprise either, and were not so hard to deflect). She had always been treated with suspicion, she had always been moved around. The talk nowadays was of marrying her off to a lord of the Lannisters' choosing, someone true to them who would temper any mild rebellious instincts that may appear (Lord Eddard had always been wary of allowing this, but now he could not stop it).

Until she was played, though, she stayed at court with the others. She wasn't often allowed to be properly alone, and she wasn't often allowed to keep private company with Sansa (who knew what they, daughters of a traitor and a madman, would dream up if unsupervised). She wasn't pampered (she was never pampered) but she wasn't kept uncomfortably. She also wasn't ignorant, though she was good at playing that up. As such, she knew it was only a matter of time before she received an invitation to be entertained by the new queen-to-be, the lithe and beautiful Rose of Highgarden.

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Margaery Tyrell was not an idiot, and she knew what needed to be done. She had been speaking with Sansa Stark to glean what knowledge she could regarding their new "king" and sadly, it was everything she'd feared it to be. A "monster", she'd said.

Her husband was dead, and it did not hurt Margaery much except for the rumours going about that they had never bedded due to Renly's proclivities. At the very least, her brother wasn't subject to much of it, to which she was thankful.

Now she knew what game had to be done next. She needed to marry the little monster, which would secure her position and make Sansa quite happy, but she also needed to meet with the other outcast that the Lannisters had kept at King's Landing.

Daenerys Targaryen was of the old blood, and the old blood needed to be welcomed into the world. Not ignored and pushed aside. This was where the Lannisters were incorrect in their treatment of people. Make them love you, and all will be fine.

Yet, Margaery had never expected to find that Daenerys would be such a lovely woman. "Hello," she said with a broad smile on her face, arms outstretched for a welcoming embrace.

Daenerys had heard the rumors of Margaery Tyrell's friendliness, of course, her benevolent deeds done across King's Landing (it would be difficult to say that she trusted anyone here, or hardly anyone at all, but paying mind to the smallfolk did somewhat endear Margaery to her before the fact, if for no other reason than that she'd do herself if she had means) and her easy charm.

She wasn't prepared for that much friendliness and charm, though. She could count on one hand the number of people who had ever embraced her in any context, and the offer came as something of a surprise to her, but it wasn't one she could very well refuse, was it? If for nothing but manners' sake.

"My lady," she murmured politely once they'd both stepped back.

"I do hope that we will be much less formal and become fast friends," Margaery said, quite truthfully as holding Daenerys had felt wonderful though it had been far too brief for her liking. She reached out and stroked Daenerys' hair -- so soft -- and smiled at her.

"I feel as though I must apologize for the behaviour of everyone else in King's Landing to you. You are of noble blood and deserve much more than... this." She looked around and quickly got an idea. "Perhaps you should come visit my family in Highgarden once I'm wed. After all, they cannot tell you what you can or cannot do for much longer once I'm Queen."

It wasn't said with malice, simply truth. Daenerys would be free.

Friends were another thing Daenerys had had few of -- and she didn't know that she even really knew what it meant at this point -- but somehow, though she knew she should be suspicious (it was safer), she couldn't bring herself to be anything but intrigued by the notion. To say nothing of Margaery's oh-so-familiar touches. "I would be honored," she replied, still relying on courtesy and the like until she had a better sense of what was going on.

But in response to the next part, she chose her words even more carefully. The hints of a lack of trust that had been ingrained in her, the manners and careful lies that had been even more so, a genuine lack of conviction as pertained to Margaery's intentions in saying it.

Finally, she settled on, "You needn't apologize. I grew used to such things long ago." Not from the Starks themselves -- they'd always been polite enough to her, looked out for her if with reservations -- but from nearly everyone else she'd ever come into contact with. Saying so was perhaps more wry than she'd usually allow herself to be, but the sort of rote answer she'd give anyone else wouldn't hardly do here. "If it does not trouble anyone, though, I think I would like to see Highgarden." Well, she'd not been out of the North until coming to King's Landing, and the North, while removed from this courtly unpleasantness, hadn't particularly suited her, either.

"It would not be a problem whatsoever." Margaery took Daenerys' arm in hers, linked together, and smiled. "Walk with me? It gets so very lonely around here these days. Perhaps you'd like to have dinner with my family? I think you would enjoy meeting my grandmother."

Margaery wondered if Daenerys was on guard around her. Did she come across as disingenuous? She hoped not; true, she had always wished to be the Queen but she was not looking forward to spending any more time with Joffrey.

Now, Daenerys, however, with her soft hair and the feel of her arm against her own...

"Your beauty surpasses all descriptions," she told Daenerys quite honestly, but still wondered if she did not trust Margaery yet. Why should she? Margaery was new and would be marrying a Lannister.

Daenerys returned the smile, albeit distantly (most of her smiles were the slightest bit distant, in truth, she was used to being guarded). “I would be glad,” she murmured, before she could stop herself adding, “I understand the loneliness of court well.” Or the loneliness of any life. It had been a near-constant state for her, for truth. “And I’ve heard much of your grandmother, meeting her would be an honor as well.”

She was only on guard with Margaery as much as she was on guard with anyone – which was to say a certain level of it was unavoidable. She was ever-conscious of how her behavior might be interpreted and how to interpret the behavior of those around her, and she was used to assuming – not the worst, but hardly the best of people.

Margaery, though, was not quite sending up the warning signs that Daenerys had come to look for. And she was intriguing, certainly.

The compliment caught her off-guard, and she was sure it was written all over her face; Margaery was allying with the Lannisters, true, but Daenerys wasn’t sure of how much of that was her own doing and how much was her family’s. A family, she knew, that had supported her own during the war. But usually remarks about her physical appearance were accompanied with lewd expressions or some sort of passive-aggressive tone, so this? This was something new, and all she could say in response was, “Oh. Th-thank you.”

Edited 2014-04-18 00:06 (UTC)

"Perfect." Margaery's smile widened into the most beaming expression she had, but she was completely truthful again. Yes, she could play the game and make the commoners try to care for Joffrey, but it was simply because he needed someone to temper his actions. His mother certainly did not.

The way in which Daenerys replied to her, though, made her consider the words. Had she never been told such a thing? "You're quite welcome, and I mean to keep telling you so until you believe me."

She faced Daenerys once again and kissed her cheek before pulling away slowly, both her hands holding Daenerys' arms gently as they faced one another. "Now. You must tell me everything. Who wouldn't compliment you?"

Was the Tyrell girl trying to drive her to distraction? She couldn't imagine it was intentional, but for whatever reason it was certainly having that effect, enough that she had to take a deep breath, pause to think of her answer before opening her mouth again.

"It isn't that," she began hesitantly, "I've heard..." Say the wrong thing, she knew, and she'd come off falsely modest, cloying, or she'd come off somehow more ungrateful than she ought before the future queen, or she'd come off any number of things. "Well, it's not that I've never been complimented, but it's rarely been so -- so much something I could trust."

Rarely, not never (she had done her best not to think of Jon since arriving here, but sometimes, as now, he'd spring to memory and it would call a faint blush to her cheeks). But rare enough that it still didn't seem normal to her.

Her smile faded slightly and she let the back of her hand lightly touch Daenerys' cheek as she studied her. Was that warmth on her face? Who was she thinking of?

"But you trust me. Don't you?"

Margaery let her hand rub back and forth on her cheek, trying to calm as well as enjoying the feel. She caught herself after a moment, pulling back only because she did not wish to look so... forward in public.

"Come, tell me who has put that blush on your face? Surely there was someone other than me who recognized your beauty...?"

That was a difficult question for her to answer. For all of the reasons of her circumstances in life and likely some of her temperament, she didn't truly trust most people, but being coy and evasive would get her nowhere and in fact likely make her look guiltier than she was. Better to just keep from saying anything, like always.

But that wasn't exactly an option now, with Margaery's hand so recently against her cheek and her involuntary reactions betraying her.

"I would like very much to," she finally settled on answering. That was the most polite way to say it, probably, to say that she didn't offer trust easily but could make exceptions.

She looked all around them as if searching for the words, then let her gaze fall to the ground as she continued, "There was someone, yes. Nobody here." And she prayed that Margaery wouldn't press further, though she suspected she might.

She raised an eyebrow at her response, realizing that Daenerys did not trust her just yet. Margaery sighed and mentally nodded her head. It was to be expected, she supposed, from the "new" woman about to marry Joffrey.

"I will endeavor to change your words from 'like to' into 'yes'," she whispered, before wondering briefly about the man - woman? - who was no longer here.

"Is that person," she started, careful to phrase it in a neutral way (she was a Tyrell, after all), "still alive?"

There was nothing personal about it, really. Daenerys didn’t trust hardly anyone, not really, but she trusted some more than others and she was willing to give Margaery the chance to cross into that category. It was something, though not probably nearly enough.

She nodded politely in response to Margaery’s declaration. You’re welcome to try, though vocalizing the sentiment would likely come off too -- too abrupt, too hard, too something. She was ever careful with such things, she had to be. No telling who was listening or what they would make of it, what anyone really wanted of her or at all.

That neutrality didn’t go unnoticed, either, though Daenerys wasn’t sure quite what to make of it as it pertained to her, personally. She had never been with a woman like she’d been with Jon, wasn’t even quite sure how she might be, but the idea had crossed her mind, fleetingly in any case. It wasn’t, she suspected, something that much went beyond that level of thought for most.

“Last I heard,” she murmured. They had been so careful to keep from being discovered, and though it wouldn’t seem to matter now, it also very much could, so she kept her answers as vague as possible.

Again, Margaery simply nodded her head in response at the careful way that Daenerys was speaking with her. She would need to work on her more, she mused, perhaps spend more time with her to get her to truly open up and feel at home.

"I am pleased to know that another recognized your beauty and complimented you on it," she added, turning the conversation back to the stranger that had possibly held Daenerys' heart - or more? - for a time. Alive, but no longer at King's Landing? Her mind raced with possibilities.

"Would you care to join me for dinner? I detest eating alone, and Grandmother is busy at the moment." She wanted to spend as little time with Joffrey as possible, after all.

It would take more time and effort than most had found worth it, in truth. She'd not made friends in King's Landing (she didn't know who belonged to whom, who'd report every time she let her guard down, so she just refrained altogether) and had hardly done even back at Winterfell, and some of this was just because since she refused to ameliorate herself with anyone so quickly, they moved their attentions elsewhere.

But she wouldn't be opposed to someone trying, not that she would say outright. She didn't need the attention paid to her, but it might, she thought, be nice having someone on her side. She was wary, of course, unsure of exactly why Margaery might design to be that someone, but she wasn't wholly shut off to the idea.

Why Margaery cared so much about someone having paid her attention, Daenerys couldn't be sure, but instead of pressing it further (maybe if she dropped it, so would the other woman), she turned it around. "And you?" she asked all sweetly and conversationally. "I assume you've had your share of admirers."

She managed to call up a smile as she added, "I don't see how anybody could object to that, and I would like it very much."

Margaery was stubborn, so if she wanted something she would not back down from it. That was what she told herself as to why she was so insistent on everything regarding Daenerys, and that it had nothing to do with the color of her hair or the softness of her skin.

"I've had many men admire me. Old men who cared little for my thoughts, young boys who cared little for anything. What I wouldn't give for someone different, though." She paused, realizing what she had just said. "Of course Joffrey is going to be my husband, and I will be faithful to him... once we are wed."

There was a slight blush on Margaery's face, that she tried to disguise before she grabbed Daenerys' arm in glee. "Wonderful! We can talk more freely, then, as well. No prying eyes around."

And if given such an answer (not that she would ask) Daenerys would understand. That did seem to be the way of things here, everyone so eager to make connections and triumph and top each other. She wouldn't necessarily believe that (she'd been on the receiving end of such attention before, and it was rarely like this) but she'd understand.

"Once you are wed, yes, of course," she echoed, going distant for a moment. Even before properly speaking to Margaery, she'd known better than to wish Joffrey on her. She wouldn't wish Joffrey on anyone, not after the contempt she'd seen him have for many of his subjects, the outright cruelty he inflicted on Sansa, the subtler and sneakier ways he'd found to deal with her during her time in the city (especially after Lord Eddard's execution). Now? She almost shuddered to think of such a marriage.

There were no good ways to say any of that, though, so instead she mused, "There is rather a difference between empty compliments and genuine ones." Margaery's to her, she expected, were the latter, but she couldn't yet be quite sure.

The look on her face hinted at that, though, and Daenerys -- not, by nature, a gleeful sort -- was caught off-guard a moment before she thought to give a low laugh and murmur, "There may well be prying eyes anywhere." Her own paranoia more than anything.

She nodded, knowing Daenerys had caught her small slip regarding Joffrey but she hoped that nothing would be said about it. Margaery did not think so; no one cared much for Joffrey, truly, save for his mother.

Being wed to Joffrey was indeed a sobering thought.

At Daenerys' small laugh, Margaery smiled wider. Perhaps she was breaking through to her and dinner would be without awkwardness of the terrible politeness that seemed to fill every conversation lately. "Perhaps there is. Maybe we should give them a show." With that she hooked her arm into Daenerys' and pulled her along to the gardens where dinner was waiting. She asked for a another place setting and for privacy, and once everyone was gone, she made certain to sit next to Daenerys, not across from her.

"Isn't this better?"

Less than nothing would be said about it. In the unlikely event that someone would question her about how the queen-to-be felt about her betrothed, she'd offer a polite, not-so-bright shrug like she always did and say something about how it was no different from anyone's thoughts about their king. A bit open-ended intentionally, but she wasn't known for gossiping in the first place.

Dinner was like to have awkwardness for a time, but who could say for sure? She wasn't good at letting her guard down, just in case, but there was always a first time. And she did pity the lady being subjected to such -- such boredom as stilted conversation day in and out.

"Maybe we should," she agreed, letting herself get drawn as close to Margaery as was wanted. It felt nice, playing at friendship like this. She did greatly understand the appeal.

And once she'd settled in, smoothing her skirts and straightening her neckline, she declared, "It's certainly more personal."

At the "may we should", Margaery's eyebrow shot up slightly as she considered possibilities that would all be very scandalous. Pushing those thoughts aside (at least for the moment) she let herself relax with Daenerys once they were alone at dinner.

Sipping on the wine, she nodded in agreement.

"And I do so love anything that's more personal." She squeezed Daenerys' hand once, let it linger for a moment, and then pulled away before brushing her hair absently for no particular reason.

"Do you have many friends here, or have they been horribly rude to someone of such noble blood?"

Tentatively, Daenerys took a drink of her own wine. She wanted to be as excited as the other woman seemed to be: it would be easier, she thought, to be lighthearted when everything seemed to be going your way, when things aligned in your favor, when you weren't constantly under scrutiny and guard.

Then again, wouldn't a future queen be under scrutiny and guard of a different sort almost always?

She made sure not to allow her expression to show any confusion or particular surprise at that remark, nor at Margaery's oh-so-familiar touch. It was likely that she was just one of those sorts of people, the kind who treated you as an old friend after not knowing you for any time at all. It was nothing to be puzzled by.

It was a difficult question to answer, though. Friends were, after all, a certain luxury not often afforded her. "I can't say I've gotten terribly close to anyone here," she finally admitted. "Sansa's always been amiable enough with me, and Arya before she -- well. But that's been true my whole life." The ladies of court didn't want much to do with the Mad King's eerie daughter, and the lords of court weren't interested in just friendship.

"Sansa is a sweet girl," she agreed, pouring a refill of the wine for Daenerys before adding more to her own cup.

"It's a shame there hasn't been anyone for you to confide in." Save for her mystery person she would not speak about. "But you must confide in me. I'm very good at keeping secrets." An eyebrow shot up and then she whispered, "I will be Queen and will have..."

Control over....

"... the ear of the King. Whatever you require, I will make certain it happens." Margaery brushed aside a stray hair that had gotten into Daenerys' face. "Drink up. If we're to be close, we must both be drinking more."

"She is," Daenerys murmured, gazing down at her own hands for a moment. "I worry about her for that reason." Not that she herself couldn't play sweet, but she had always done as a defense and anyway Sansa wore it more naturally, and she'd seen her hurt for it so many times since the move to this city.

But she didn't have to say any of that to Margaery, did she? It was clear as day. And considering how much of that hurt had been at the hands of Margaery's intended, she didn't exactly feel it her place to comment, either. Instead, she made a conscious effort to seem more relaxed.

"If I'm to tell you any secrets at all," she mused, watching the other woman carefully, "I'll certainly need to have more to drink." As if to prove it, she took another sip of her wine, then tried for a smile.

Gods, even smiles were something she had to consciously give out, she could swear some days that she didn't even know how to naturally give them out anymore. "I'm not even sure what I could ask of you, what I could truly need." Other than freedom from the court and indeed this life she'd been made to live, but that was a tall order.

"I worry about her, too." Margaery paused and tilted her head, revealing a secret to Daenerys. "I'm hopeful that she'll come to Highgarden as well, away from here... perhaps to marry into our family." Loras was apparently out of the question now, but Margaery had more family...

She nodded her head once Daenerys drank more, and then took another swallow herself, pouring more of the wine Cersei favored for them both.

"I can think of something you would like." Margaery leaned in closer and kissed Daenerys' cheek, her lips lingering there. "Leaving King's Landing, perhaps...? Or finding that other person again who made you blush so prettily...?"

"That would be rather a miracle," Daenerys murmured, her voice pitched low to match Margaery's. "So long as it got her out of here, I think it would be wise. So many memories she must long to be away from." Daenerys didn't much like it here because of even the stories of what hat happened to her own family, to say nothing of what poor Sansa must have felt from having seen such awful things.

She was nearing the point where her good sense was waning just slightly, but she wasn't yet completely reckless. And even as she drank more, she still watched Margaery's expression for any signs of -- of something.

But that sense was all but vanished when Margaery put lips to her skin, intimate in such a way she'd only barely known, and it meant that she was quick to agree, "I would be glad to be out of this city. I've no taste for being played as a piece in someone else's game."

Her eyes went wide as soon as it was said -- even that vague remark could be considered inappropriate if heard by the wrong people, but at least she'd managed not to respond to the second suggestion, the secret she held closer still.

It would be a miracle, but poor Sansa was a sweet girl and deserved it.

As did Daenerys, too, though the thought of having her leave the city made Margaery upset for reasons she could not quite fathom as of yet.

"Mmm, no games, then," she told her, her hands stroking Daenerys' hair while her lips moved from her cheek slowly around until they were a breath apart from her lips. Waiting for permission to kiss her.

Margaery noticed that she did not answer the second part of her queries, but did not press it any further. Not when they were alone and slightly drunk, and Daenerys' mouth was so incredibly tempting.