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.
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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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.
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"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?"
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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"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."
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"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.
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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?"
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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."
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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?"
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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.
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"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."
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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.
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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...?"
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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.
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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.
oh my gosh I thought I'd replied to this like a month ago. I'm kicking myself and apologizing lots.
But maybe it wasn't friendship at all. This wasn't like the paltry and shallow attempts at seduction she'd been subjected to at court, this wasn't like the awkward dance of secret courtship that she and Jon had done, this wasn't like anything she had a frame of reference for. But she could tell, at least, what it was that Margaery had in mind.
And for reasons she didn't quite understand either, she wanted it too, though all she could think to do was nod very slightly.
it's okay, no worries!
Yes, she thought to herself as a hand kept lightly touching, careful not to press or push Daenerys too much, while Margaery simply enjoyed one of the finer things in life that her grandmother had always spoken of.
It wasn't a normal seduction, and it wasn't part of the game. It was a woman simply wanting another woman, the warm and soft touch, the comfort. Everything that a man could not provide.
"You taste exquisite," she whispered to her.
Re: it's okay, no worries!
In fact she couldn't explain why, exactly, but she knew it with a certainty.
"Thank you," she whispered back, because what else was she to do, really? Almost reverently, she brushed fingertips over Margaery's cheekbone, took in the details of her pretty face.
Only when that had been done did she move back in for another, oh-so-slightly deeper kiss.
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Margaery let them rest in Daenerys' lap, a slight brush back and forth, teasing and promising.
It was slow and seductive, things Margaery had been told she excelled at but things she had never had a chance to experience with a woman... and oh, what a woman Daenerys was! She could not help the smile on her face as she kept up every little touch and kiss.
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Suddenly though, she blinked slowly and rather nervously. "Should we..." Be doing this where anyone could see, Daenerys meant. Because even if nobody was around, someone may have seen (that was so often the way of things in this city).
She wanted the answer to be yes, though, so the words came out faint, almost hesitant.
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Not that she wished to presume anything; she simply wished to be cautious.
"I... can stop," she offered, though, hoping the answer would be no.
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A long pause. She could only imagine all of the ways this could go wrong, everything they'd be made to deal with if they were caught, all of the scorn they would face and especially in her case the chastisement and worse, but right now? She couldn't bring herself to care.
It was foolish, but it was inevitable.
"Please," she whispered, softer and more careful. "Keep going."
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Her mouth moved to those lips, so soft and inviting, and while the thought occured to her that no, she should not be doing this and perhaps not here, that thought was pushed aside in favor of tasting Daenerys again. Already jealous of the "other" she'd spoken of, hoping to bring a little of the blush to her cheeks somehow.
Margaery's hands worked on the gown, pulling it up Daenery's legs until bare skin was showing, and then she pressed her hand back inside to play, tease, and explore.
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"Margaery..."
She must have looked so frightened in that moment, her eyes wide and her mouth fallen open entirely. But this was still rather a new experience, and -- oh, her legs were exposed and Margaery was teasing her and it was a little too much to bear.
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