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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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Immediately, vehemently, she shook her head. "It's nothing to do with you!" she exclaimed, frowning. "I -- I don't know what others would say if they knew we'd been intimate, we're intimate, and I don't care."

That was true, in the abstract sense. That she'd been intimate with the future queen of the realm was perhaps not something she wanted known, but while she knew many considered lying with someone of one's own sex a sin, theirs were irrelevant opinions to her.

But that reassurance given, she had to turn to the other matter. "It's -- my family, they'd fallen out of fashion, as it were," she murmured. "Out of their minds, to hear tell. There's always someone looking at me wondering if I'm one of the mad ones. Always growing up there was someone looking at me thinking I didn't really belong there."

"No."

She smiled at Daenerys and pulled her closer. "You are not mad. I do not care what others think; I could not want you if you were...." Then she thought about what was actually said. Her family, she'd mentioned.

"I want you. I... like you...." She blushed at that. "You belong here, or perhaps Highgarden if you wish to leave. But you belong with me."

If only they could belong together on the throne....

Despite herself, Daenerys turned and nuzzled into Margaery's neck as those words were spoken. She'd essentially been asking to hear such things, but it didn't mean they were any less welcome.

The idea that Margaery felt so strongly about her already was immensely flattering, too; she herself felt an inexplicable bond with the other girl, but those were a dangerous game to play, she knew all too well. So it took her some time to find the words to respond.

"I've spent my entire time in King's Landing wishing to leave," she murmured. "Now, I don't know that it matters where I am, long as I have..." A sheepish smile, a nod Margaery's way.

"... me?"

She finished the sentence, on a shy and hopeful note which was unlike her. Margaery tended to form strong bonds with people in a short amount of time (Sansa for example), and though people assumed it was because of her desire for the throne it was also for other reasons.

Ones she usually kept private.

"I would be honored if you were with me, Daenerys. However you chose to be." She didn't wish to force the issue; it should be her choice, after all.

Daenerys nodded shyly. It seemed an impulsive decision to make, but at this stage in her life, it seemed to be either impulsive decisions or none at all. So -- she was trusting her instinct, or some such.

"I'm not sure how would be the wisest, exactly," she admitted, "but I would try if you would." Try what, it wasn't entirely clear, but try.

Margaery mulled over options. She would need to speak with her grandmother for certain, but she knew what she would say.

Marry Joffrey and keep Daenerys with her, much in the way that everything had happened with Loras and Renley. She did not wish that for Daenerys -- it felt too degrading.

She interlocked her fingers with hers and squeezed them tightly. "I don't either," she admitted, "at least not an idea that would be... a happy one for you." She could break off the engagement and go home to Highgarden with Daenerys. She could find a suitable person for Daenerys to marry (her brother was actually a good choice to keep both their families together). Or she could stay here, keeping Daenerys here as well.

"I don't like hiding you."

Degrading, perhaps, but no worse than anything else she had endured (which in turn was not -- not so horrible as what had happened to Sansa, but hardly a pleasant experience). Margaery was doubtless a comfort, the sort she had never known without knowing it would end. That alone was worth everything else.

She smiled as Margaery joined their hands, then again at that comment.

"In one way or another, I've been hidden all of my life," she pointed out. "At least with you, I would be happy about it."

Margaery kissed her lightly for that comment and thought over the options again.

"You belong on the throne."

It wasn't an option, not really - not yet, at least -- and she stroked the silvery-strands of hair as she gave one of the options to Daenerys, wanting her opinion.

"You could stay here, with me. I could keep you near me... I don't need to be in Joffrey's chambers." And besides, he might not live that long, not with the way her grandmother spoke of him.

Daenerys sighed lightly. Her family had sat the throne for so long, and she couldn't even imagine doing. She could barely, as Margaery was seeing, imagine being in a proud and true relationship with someone. But as with things regarding the latter, she understood what Margaery meant by the former. The intention was new, but she appreciated it.

"I could," she mused. "I assure you I'm good at being discreet." Nobody at Winterfell had so much as suspected her and Jon, to her knowledge, or at least nobody of consequence (there were workmen and the like who had speculated about her and Jon, but they'd speculated about her and Robb or her and Theon just as readily, merely by virtue of her being available and female). She'd kept that secret because she had to, and she could keep this one as well.

There was incentive to, doubtlessly. It ensured her a happier life than she might otherwise have led, and a longer one, perhaps. She was a bit taken aback that Margaery wanted to do this for her so quickly, but she had no interest in arguing.

The way in which Daenerys answered Margaery made her rethink the offer. Perhaps she was insulted by it...?

"If you do not wish to, please tell me now. I would rather the truth of the situation than a pretty lie, dressed up with smiles to make me feel at ease."

It wasn't every day that she made an offer like this, but then again it wasn't every day that Margaery led with her heart instead of her head.

"No," Daenerys said immediately. "No, I wish to. I just..." Here she had to pause to collect herself. The truth was that she wanted to prove herself worthy, which was ridiculous since Margaery clearly thought that by virtue of asking her.

She settled on saying, very meekly, "I felt I ought to clarify."

She shut her eyes, in order to try and suss out the truth of what Daenerys was saying. When she finally opened them, Margaery held both of her small hands in her own, and then kissed them one at a time.

"Would it please you to know that I have never felt this way before? That I have never wished for something true? For that is what you are, Daenerys - pure and true in a land filled with lies. Even I am a lie." Surely everyone knew that, though; marriages of compromise were made, of aligning the houses and lands... Joffrey thought it love, but it could not be further from the truth, not after Sansa had revealed much to her.

"Stay. Please?"

"You flatter me," Daenerys murmured, twining her fingers with Margaery's. "With your ideals of who I am -- I'm flattered." After all, they were rare, and though she didn't find them to be true, she did understand their intention.

"I believe even if I had somewhere else to go, I would stay," she agreed after a moment, smiling. "I confess I'm intrigued."

She let out her breath once Daenerys said she would stay, and impulsively kissed her quickly.

"Then stay. Please. Be wit me and at the very least, we can be happy together. It's such a rare feeling, happiness, these days and in this world."

"Yes," Daenerys breathed out, and a part of her felt it was too quickly but a part of her knew it was the easiest decision she could make. "You speak of it so beautifully, but I think my mind was made up before you said a word."

Lazily, she let her hand trace over the curve of Margaery's hip. "We can figure something out," she offered.

"Then we shall figure it out together," she answered in kind, repeated Daenerys' words as they held onto one another.

All would be well, Margaery thought to herself, so long as she had Daenerys. No matter what Joffrey or Cersei might do or say, together they would be a team... and content.

"I'd almost forgotten what together could feel like," she murmured before she could think better of it. "How wonderful it is."

They were working toward a common goal, and there would be little stopping them. That alone held value for Daenerys.

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