Chapter Text
Margaery stared at the candle in her hand, desperately trying to stay quiet as she steeled herself. He’s only a boy, she thought: only a boy whose brother I unintentionally murdered, another half-hysterical part of her mind reminded. Only a boy, and not half as harmful.
She almost felt bad for the boy king on the other side of the door. Even now, she wondered how her grandmother had removed the kingsguard from the corridor. A bribe, perhaps? How much was this king worth so soon after the last? Probably little, considering what a little cunt Joffrey had ended up being. She was no innocent lamb; she remembered Joffrey’s crossbow and the poor girl they’d pulled out of his rooms without anyone the wiser. By that point, everyone was aware a monster roamed about as king, and hiding his first actual murder was done with Cercei’s usual tact. Which meant anyone with their ears in the servants’ quarters heard about it before breakfast.
Grandmother gave you a job; focus, you silly girl. Soon you’ll be all alone here when she leaves you, all alone in this god’s forsaken city. You must be queen, or else you’ll never be safe, never grow strong. On three… one, two and three. Fuck it.
She plastered her smile, no teeth, all feminine guile; her grandmother’s voice reminded and moved through the creaking doorframe. Into silence.
The boy was sitting up in bed. His bedside candle’s already lit and a book in his lap, much larger than the tomes she would expect from him. For all the boy was king, no one in the castle would call him a great intellect; he was, by all appearances, a shy, innocent and lonely little boy. He didn’t acknowledge her, so she moved closer, and only when she reached the edge of the bed did he look up from his book.
“How did you get past the Kingsguard?” He asked, genuinely curious. She didn’t know, but she couldn’t tell him that.
“The Kingsguard.” She half gasped, as if the question itself was scandalous or silly. Like this was all a game. She supposed it was, if only one with higher stakes.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.” He stated, not sounding as unsure as his turn of phrase suggested; he almost sounded coy.
Well, if he’s willing to play along, then this was already going better than she expected. But not at all how she’d envisioned. There was a knowing in his eyes that she’d never seen before, a shrewdness hidden behind his innocence. She placed her candle down on the bedside table and sat at the side of the bed by his feet.
“Word is I’m to be your bride,” she whispered to him. He kept staring at her in silence, so she continued, “Did you know that people in arranged marriages often never meet until their wedding day?” As she said this, she shuffled a bit closer to him, as if bringing him into the conspiracy. “Before we spend our lives together, we ought to get to know one another. Don’t you think?”
“If they find out you’re here.” He started, but she quickly interjected.
“It can be our secret. If we’re going to be man and wife, we’ll have a few secrets I hope.” She was leaning in now. I’ll have as many secrets of yours as I can, and hopefully they’ll be enough to keep me going here, she thought. Enough to keep me sane or safe.
“So your grace… can I have a secret?” She asked. Whatever you can spare. I promise I’ll use it gently; maybe this one even grandmother doesn’t need to know.
Then, suddenly, he let out a sigh and looked as tired as she felt. She quickly leant back in surprise. He looked up at her and put a finger on his mouth, shushing her, got up out of bed, opened the drawer of the bedside table, pulled something out, grabbed her candle and marched to the corner of the room. Once there, he pulled back the ornate wall hanging to reveal a single brick missing in the wall. He placed what she now saw was a single gold dragon in the hole and spoke calmly.
“Would you please take this and leave now, Daisy. As always, I’ll see you tomorrow for snacks, and please don’t tell Varys about all this. Knock twice if you agree to our deal. I shan’t reveal anything if you stay anyway.” Then, like magic, Margaery heard three knocks on the wall. And Tommen quickly grabbed the coin back from the hole.
“Daisy, please, can we not play this game tonight?” He sounded resigned to this mischief. “I asked if you could knock twice, and I can’t divine what three knocks mean past the hour of the wolf. I’m tired, and I’d just like to know we have an agreement without any strange additions you think another knock gives you.” After a few moments, two knocks came from the wall, and Tommen placed the coin back down, which was quickly whisked away by an unseen figure.
He waited another few seconds, almost seeming to lean towards the wall, trying to hear anything from the other side, when a soft cat’s mewl came through the space, and he nodded. He quickly marched back to the bed and sat down next to her. Her entire body locked up in terror.
“Right, what were you saying, something about secrets?” He asked plainly.
She stood up sharply. “What was that?” This was terrible. What if someone found out about this meeting? What if Cersei found out she’d broken into her son’s rooms alone? She’ll be another head on the wall with all the others. There was no saving her now. Her mask was fully crumbling all around her as she tried not to panic.
He stood up as well, holding his hands out in front of him as if corralling a spooked animal.
“Woah, woah, Margaery, everything is okay; it was only Daisy. She’s one of Varys’ little birds. She doesn’t have a tongue, so she can’t speak anyway, and I’ve known her for a couple of years now; she shouldn’t write down anything bad. She definitely won’t write that I’ve bribed her, or that I know about her at all; she’s only small, but she knows the rules of this game.”
“But how do you know she won’t tell Varys that I was in here at all?” She whispered, her eyes darting around the room looking for any more secret spies. “I knew about the secret passages, but they even have them in the royal bedrooms?”
“Wait, hold on, you didn’t know about the passages here; they’re literally everywhere in this castle, like every room, if you know how to look. I thought for sure you knew; that’s why Olenna has been spending so much time in the gardens?” That would make a lot of sense now that Margaery thought about it. But why would her grandmother not tell her if it was true?
“And I really don’t think Varys will tell anyone about you being in here. It just isn’t in his best interest. If Mother knew she would definitely kill you, which would only start another war, this time with your father. For all Varys did little to stop the last war, actively starting one seems a bit much even for him. Plus, it kind of betrays that he has a way to listen in to these rooms at night.” Here he shuddered. “Then Mother would need to kill both of you.”
Margaery felt like she was going mad. This was not Tommen, the little fool boy king of Westeros. This was supposed to be so easy; he was pliable and simple. She would follow her usual script, seduce slowly and then all at once, and become the queen for the third time, this time for good. This was supposed to be much easier than a gay man, and whatever Joffrey had been. Whatever this was, it was not the game she was used to playing. Maybe she was the puppet on the string all along, and she was alone in the lion’s den.
“Oh, this is not going well at all. Here, how about this?” Tommen began using the candle's light to make shadow puppets on the wall with his free hand. Very badly.
So maybe not a lion’s den. Margaery corrected, feeling now somewhat less hysterical and much more confused.
“What are you doing?” She finally asked. The boy seemed to catch himself, the performer’s grin sliding off his face as he looked between her and his hand, which he quickly secreted behind his back, coughing self-consciously.
“Uh… ahem. Anyway. Where were we? Right… secrets. Man and wife, all of that fun stuff. You wanted a secret, right? Well, what kind of secret, I guess, and can I have something in return?”
Maybe the boy really was a fool. He’d certainly revealed more than Margaery’s wildest imaginings about himself in the last few minutes and given up what she assumed was secret knowledge of spies in his walls. And she’d revealed far more than she’d wanted herself in the aftermath. If anything, the secrets they’d accidentally - on her part - given tonight were more than enough. More than anything, she felt as if the floor beneath her feet had deserted her, and she needed to retreat and reassess, hopefully somewhere closer to her grandmother before she fell through the floor.
“I’ve had enough secrets tonight, your grace, and you are the king; whatever I can do to help, I am but one of your subjects.” She was falling back on all of her upbringing here. There can be no more slip-ups; stay formal, give nothing. A new mask can salvage what’s left. Hopefully he didn’t want anything too demanding.
She felt ripped raw, and she didn’t know how much she could keep up the act, or if she could weasel her way out if he wanted anything untoward. Before, such a thought would never have entered her mind, but she was a fool before, and anything was possible now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, really. This has not gone at all as I wanted. I was hoping you’d play a game of Cyvasse with me. Which I’m sure you’re much better at than I am. I really am terrible; even Tyrion couldn’t teach me, and we could get to know each other. I told Daisy to leave because I thought you deserved privacy.” Here he sighed again, and Margaery saw the boy in front of her looked as if the entire world rested on his shoulders, and it had once again found him wanting. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, sat down again on the side of the bed and continued.
“I know that it sounds ridiculous, considering we live in some sort of moral hellscape, where rape and murder are first and foremost political tools rather than crimes and love is some kind of fiction in children’s songs. But I don’t know - why can’t a king love his wife? Or at least be nice to her? I honestly think half of this entire continent’s problems could have been solved if people just had normal home lives. Agh. I’m getting carried away.”
He finished what seemed like a sermon to Margaery, who was trying to keep a straight face. While internally trying not to worry about what he was eventually going to ask of her. Maybe in his fervour he’d forgotten.
“Anyway, I’d like for you to give me a tour of the gardens tomorrow at lunch so we can meet up with your grandmother before she leaves. It’s really only logistics, but I need her to stay in the city a while. I’m hoping that if it comes from the king, she might actually consider it.”
It appeared he had not, but Margaery was inclined to deny him. If he were going to be half as erratic as he was tonight, grandmother might kill him as well, to avoid any possible madness he might have caught from his brother. Beyond that, her grandmother had just killed the king, and leaving the scene of the crime was only common sense. However, she couldn’t say any of this, and she desperately wanted to leave, so keeping her back straight, she curtsied and said.
“It would be my honour, your grace. I’m sure that my grandmother would be most pleased. Would you like anything in particular prepared to eat while we’re there?” And smile, please him, and don’t push back, and all would be well.
The king sighed again, sending cracks through the edges of her smile and tightening the muscles of her face.
“No, whatever you want will be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, my lady. It’s late, and I need to sleep.” As he said this, he stood up and handed the candle back, quickly turning his back on her afterwards.
“Good night, my lady.”
“Good night, your grace.” She replied, quickly making her way to the door, desperate to get out.
Only as she was closing the door behind her did she have one last look at Tommen, who was sitting on the side of the bed, staring at the floor.
She thought he made a sad portrait in the dim light of the castle.
He looked lonely.