Women are supposed to be soft-spoken proper and homemakers and Rhaella Lopez was everything but she was fierce, loud, blunt and deadly. Her family had never been able to accept her but the FBI loved her it was her home, the only place other than the...
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Margaery sat in the rose garden, sipping her tea, her thoughts clouded by the confrontation with her husband the night before. His words still echoed in her mind: he could always annul the marriage. But Margaery didn't believe him. The Tyrells needed this alliance too much for him to act on his threats.
Her brief moment of peace disappeared as she saw Princess Sansa approaching. A small, disdainful smile appeared on Margaery's lips. The Northern Rose looked every bit the queen, even in her revealing attire. Dressed in a light blue velvet gown with a low neckline that exposed her slightly tanned skin and cleavage, Sansa was both alluring and regal.
Margaery couldn't suppress a scoff as her eyes lingered on the slit in Sansa's dress—far too daring for her taste, a dress fit for a whore. But what made Margaery seethe with jealousy was how Sansa still managed to exude an air of royalty, even when dressed like a Dornish temptress. Her long red hair flowed down her back like a river of flame.
Margaery had fully intended to ignore her when she saw Lady Arya walking beside her, dressed in black. The dress was daring too—plunging neckline, a slit up the side, and billowing sleeves that allowed a glimpse of her toned arms. The embroidery on Arya's shoulders—Stark wolves and Targaryen dragons—made the outfit even more striking. The two Stark daughters were dressing like whores, Margaery thought, as if it were some sort of competition.
Sansa's voice broke the silence. "Alicent Hightower went mad after all her children died, according to historians. She grew to loathe the colour green. She forever regretted fighting against the Blacks. I wonder if you are aware of these facts, Lady Tyrell?"
Margaery paled as she locked eyes with the bright blue ones that seemed to seethe with disdain. She quickly looked away, only to meet Arya's piercing gaze. She felt a sudden, terrifying chill. "No, I was not," she whispered, as fear crept into her heart.
Arya's soft laugh sent a shiver down Margaery's spine. "Oh, good. It would be such a disappointment if you were lusting after power that isn't yours. I would have had to kill you."
Margaery couldn't help but feel the truth behind Arya's words. The youngest Stark girl was notorious for her ability to execute those who crossed her. Arya wasn't done, though. "Do be aware, we shall be keeping an eye on you. If I were in your position, I would keep my head down and start producing heirs."
With that, both Sansa and Arya rose and walked away, leaving Margaery trembling. She took a shaky sip of her tea, her mind whirling with fear, before deciding that she would heed the advice given. She didn't want to end up a target of the Stark sisters' wrath.
Meanwhile, in a hidden pavilion behind the roses, Olenna Tyrell watched Daenerys, who moved her chess pieces thoughtfully. Both women sipped their tea, seemingly oblivious to the threats just made to the young Tyrell.
Olenna, ever the strategist, chuckled softly. "Ah, to be young and inexperienced. She didn't even realize that her tea was laced with aphrodisiacs and fertility concoctions. Lady Sansa is truly the only woman who dares to wear green. It's due to her hair colour, of course. Margaery was bold, but foolish."
Daenerys took a sip of her tea, her gaze moving to the Unsullied guards. "We are all naïve in our youth, aren't we?"
Olenna nodded in agreement, clearly impressed with the Targaryen woman's astuteness. "Daenerys Targaryen is the ruler I've always supported. She has a brain, and she knows how to use it."
After a brief pause, Olenna changed the subject. "What of Willas? Who is he to marry?"
Daenerys smirked and glanced over at Willas, who was walking with Missandei, the two of them laughing and enjoying each other's company. "According to my friend, it's best if he marries a woman who does not want to raise children."
Olenna raised an eyebrow, then spotted a woman approaching them. The girl's face seemed familiar, but it took a moment for Olenna to place her. "The Lannister girl, Tywin's niece?"
Daenerys hummed in affirmation, watching with interest as Willas kissed the girl's hand, making her blush. "They can be married in three days," Olenna murmured, her eyes studying the girl. Rumours had painted her as quiet and beautiful, but with a clear disinterest in children. She was, however, still a Lannister. Olenna couldn't understand why the girl would agree to a marriage like this.
Daenerys, smiling with satisfaction, added, "She's been in love with Willas for years. In her youth, she swore she would bear no heirs except his. She's more love-struck than wild. In addition, she is the last of her line"
Olenna chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, to be young and naïve." The two women shared a knowing glance, both amused by the innocence they still saw in others.
Meanwhile, Sansa and Arya entered the Red Keep, their bright smiles betraying the tension in the air. They were unprepared for the sight that greeted them: their men were sparring with the Unsullied. Arya, always quick to act, smirked and walked toward the training grounds. Without hesitation, she grabbed a set of daggers from the strap on her thigh and threw them with precision. The Unsullied reacted swiftly, their spears raised to block the daggers.
Grey Worm, the captain of the Unsullied, turned and gave Arya a rude gesture, which made her laugh. "It seems your awareness is lacking," she taunted.
With a sigh, Grey Worm stepped out of the arena, muttering curses in Valyrian. Jon watched with interest as Arya ruffled his hair in a show of camaraderie. The Unsullied captain clearly had a close relationship with Arya, one that wasn't lost on Jon.
What surprised him most, however, was when Sansa entered the ring. She turned to Robb, then to her husband, and asked, "Shall we?"
It seemed that the Sand Snakes had truly drilled their training into her, and now Sansa was not afraid to fight. None of the group noticed Lady Stark watching from the castle with a frown. She was not pleased with the recent developments.
Both her daughters dressed like queens and wielded weapons—one of them even a murderer. Her sons had embraced these new changes, but she remained uncertain. Was this new rule truly the best path for them?
Her husband seemed content, but she couldn't help but wonder if her life would have been different had she married Brandon. Would she have been happier?
Lady Stark sighed, her thoughts heavy with the weight of everything that had changed.
