GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"I have lost two grandsons already in this war, and for long, I thought I had lost a third." Olenna adjusted her seat closer to Margaery's. "I will not lose more."

"Floris?" Margaery suddenly asked.

Olenna stayed silent.

...

"With some luck, given a bastard's name and fostered in the capital. Mayhaps sent to the Silent Sisters, mayhaps…"

"No! I won't allow it!" Margaery stood from her chair.

"I doubt we'd have much choice in the matter, dear."

Margaery felt a tear running down her cheek, and her fists clench.

"I do not care. They will not harm her."

"Come, dear." Olenna beckoned her to sit once again. "I know it will be hard, but we have to survive. Survive as a family, and survive as a great house. I doubt they will harm her, but if they wish to do so, you will have to agree to never see her again, sent off to foster at a loyal house…"

Margaery felt the tears flow, wiping them with a handkerchief.

"I understand," she finally let out. "And Willas?"

"Willas managed to live through whatever the Northmen wanted, but we cannot reach him. If he plays his game and lives, all the better for us. Princess Arianne will be a useful negotiating chip for us, and it's no doubt because the Dornish haven't attacked Highgarden yet." Olenna put a hand on her shoulder. "We will yield, and we will place ourselves at their mercy. That is all we can hope for."

"Do you think father will agree?" Margaery suddenly remembered his outbursts.

"He will have to." Olenna nodded. "Your father may be a fat, prideful, oaf, but he is no fool, either. He will see that you cannot fight dragons with five thousand men. And if he doesn't…well, Rowan will yield for him."

"Mathis Rowan?"

"Yes, the old man always has had a soft spot for the dragons. Mayhaps he could think about stealing the paramountcy. In any case, he will never follow Mace into one more folly. He may dislike the Dornish, but he will bend to the Targaryens." Olenna sighed. "All we would have to do, in the case the dragons come knocking – which they will – is offer to hand them the capital without a fuss, provided that we keep our lives, lands and titles."

"And if the Targaryens refuse us yielding to them?" Margaery asked, concerned.

"I am an old woman, Margaery. I do not fear death anymore…" she patted her on the shoulder. "But you…you are still young. I do not wish for you to die so early, so tragically. You could flee to Essos, live your life there. We have friends…"

"You would have me live my life on the run, just like the Dragon Queen?" Margaery asked, her eyes red.

Olenna nodded darkly.

"It's a better fate than being burned alive or living your life as a Silent Sister." Olenna put a hand on hers. "They will never leave you alone, dear. Running is the best option."

Margaery looked in her eyes, to see if there was any other chance, but found none.

"Tommen?" she found herself asking.

Her grandmother shook her head. "The Targaryens will leave no pretenders alive, I fear. They'll let him join the Watch, if they are kind."

Margaery nodded. She did not particularly care for the boy, but she would be lying if she claimed to not feel anything at all. If she could avoid him being fed to a dragon, she would.

"Thank you, grandmother." Margaery nodded. "I fear that all we can do is prepare, now."

"Indeed, we have to."

Margaery left the room, half in tears, and rushed down the hallway of the Red Keep.

Her grandmother had the right of it, it was over. Nothing could save them, now, and all they could do was try to survive, as a House and as individuals.

But even if the Targaryens felt merciful, she knew that they would never let her live her life in peace. She was too much of a symbol, Queen to three Kings, mother to a potential Queen.

She would have to disappear, like Elia Martell.

The name sent a shudder down her spine.

If not the fate of the Princess of Dorne, then sent to the Silent Sisters, or to a marriage, far away, in the North or in the depths of the Vale, never to be seen again.

As for running…Margaery couldn't picture it.

To run to Essos, why? Live in exile, in the Free Cities, alongside supposed 'friends'? And be married to a horse lord in far-flung lands like the Dragon Queen? She'd rather die.

To run to the Summer Islands, mayhaps…this was the option that tempted her the most. To live a peaceful life along the shores…but the heat would get to her, and so would the feeling of wanting to go home.

In the end, she could not live without her family.

That left only one option. One, last-ditch effort, before she could arrange for a ship to take her to Braavos, then Tall Trees Town or Lotus Port. The option to save her life, that of Floris, and mayhaps even that of Tommen.

She could only pray to the gods that it would work.

After taking a moment to rest and gather her thoughts in her rooms, alone, she started to draft a long, drawn-out, letter, and signed it with her seal, that of House Tyrell.

She then put it back in her dress, carrying it with her.

She would die before she entrusted it to Pycelle. What she was doing, currently, was treason, and could well warrant her being put to death, Queen or not.

Instead, she went towards a small room, close to her quarters, amidst the Reachmen.

Knocking, she heard a gentle call to come in.

Sitting there, on the bed, was her cousin, Alla, a babe in her arms. Margaery half-smiled.

"How is Samwell?" she asked, whispering.

"Just fine, cousin," she whispered with a sad tone, "he's sleeping."

Margaery slowly and carefully closed the door behind her, tiptoeing towards her cousin, who handed the babe to her.

He was fully asleep, sucking his thumb, clad in linens, but one could very well see his blonde hair shining.

Margaery smiled, and handed him back to Alla.

"He's beautiful," Margaery whispered.

"Just like his father," Alla replied.

Margaery bowed her head, half shamefully, half regretfully.

"Alla…" she started speaking, looking everywhere, as if someone was watching from inside the walls, "I'm sending you to him."

"What?" Alla let out, almost in a normal tone.

"I'm sending you to Sam's father," Margaery said.

"You can't!" Alla was completely shocked. "We're at war!"

"Listen, Alla, in a month, two at the latest, the Targaryens will be here in any case, Tarly has been smashed." Margaery searched through her dress, avoiding Alla's petrified face, and handed her the letter. "You need to go."

"Do you think they'll burn the city?" she asked.

"I…I'm not sure." Margaery sighed. "I cannot trust them not to, which is…"

"Why send me there, then? They'll kill me and Sam!"

"No!" Margaery almost cried out. "They won't. Not if you go to the Dornish. Seek out Prince Quentyn, for the love that you bear me and Sam, you need to find him."

Alla looked at her, then at the letter.

"You want me to give him this?" her cousin looked at the letter, finally accepting it in her hands.

"It's the only way to save me and my daughter." Margaery looked at her with pleading eyes. "I am begging you, Alla, you need to go."

"Where?" Alla asked. "And with whom? I can hardly travel alone."

"Towards Tumbleton," Margaery replied. "The Targaryens are going for that city next, it seems they want to avoid the Kingswood in case we try to give battle once again. It is useless, we have nothing stopping them."

"I'm taking Sam with me," Alla replied, confidently. "I shall not leave him here."

Margaery did not even argue. "Take Elinor with you too, Arys Oakheart will escort you. He is escorting a futile diplomatic mission that is to go with Ser Kevan to see the Northerners along the Blackwater Rush. I will tell him that you are part of it too, but you need to convince him that you are going to Tumbleton, by my orders. There, you are really only to approach Prince Quentyn, and no one else, understood?"

Alla looked at her with tearful eyes.

"And after?"

"Ask him for his protection. That or your own love, what does it matter?" Margaery scoffed. "What matters is that you will be safe from harm or reprisals."

"And you, cousin?" Alla looked her in the eyes. "What will you do?"

"Pray," Margaery answered. "Pray a solution comes soon, pray that I do not have to leave Westeros forever."

"Cousin!"

"It's true, Alla. What shall I do if they get their hands on me?" Margaery shook her head.

Alla rose, Samwell still in her arms.

"When do I leave?"

"On the morrow, in the dark. You will have today to prepare," Margaery said. "Do not tell a word to anyone that you are leaving. If anyone asks questions, tell them you have been asked by the Queen to aid in the mission's preparation."

Alla nodded, and looked at her with sad eyes.

"You know that there is a chance that I do not return?"

Margaery stared blankly at her for a few moments.

Foolish girl, she thinks herself in love. But what if the boy spurns her when she comes to see him with her child?

"Then, I'll wish you goodbye on the morrow." Margaery rose. "But whatever you choose to do, do not forget the letter. It possibly contains the fate of our house within it."

Alla looked again at the flimsy piece of paper, and nodded.

"I'll do as you command, cousin."

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