Fury And Pride | Myrcella Baratheon x Male!OC Fanfiction | Game Of Thrones AU

Queen Regent

The dress was made of heavy black silk, the fabric glossy and rich in the dim light of the room.

The garment was tailored to accentuate her slender figure and regal bearing. The bodice hugged her torso, showing a slight hint of her curves, while the skirt flared out around her waist, falling gracefully to the floor and trailing slightly behind as she walked.

Margaery stood in her lavish chambers, surrounded by her handmaidens as they attended to her, preparing her for the day's duties. Amongst the usual tasks, the handmaidens carefully helped her into a beautiful yet practical gown, mindful of the day's somber event.

The queen's expression was solemn as she steeled herself for the witnessing of Ser Osmund's impending execution, a necessary action for the sake of justice and order.

Word quickly spread throughout the city of the young king's assault and his guard's treachery. The gruesome scene was soon the talk of the streets, as tales of the brutal attack and the mysterious events leading up to it reached the ears of citizens and smallfolk alike.

Ser Osmund, the treacherous Kingsguard who had attempted to assassinate the king, was promptly apprehended and placed under arrest. The charge for his crime was clear: regicide.

Under the authority of the now Queen Regent, Ser Osmund's fate was sealed with a chilling sentence: death.

With the assassination attempt on Steffon, the kingdom found itself in a state of upheaval once more. Margaery, as the Queen Regent, stepped into the void left by Steffon's precarious condition.

With the young king fought for his life, it was Margaery who took the reins of power, assuming the role of regent and becoming the de facto ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

The morning was a picture-perfect day in the South, as the early light cast a soft, warm glow over the landscape. Margaery stepped out of the Red Keep, her presence drawing the gazes of the courtiers and servants who milled about the castle.

As she made her way towards the execution square, the city seemed to be going about its daily business, unaware of the pivotal events that were about to unfold.

The execution square was abuzz with activity and hushed whispers as a large crowd had gathered, eager to witness the day's events. At the center of it all stood Ser Osmund, his hands bound and a look of determination on his face.

As he stood in the shadow of the executioner's block, the crowd waited with baited breath, the air pregnant with anticipation.

As Margaery arrived at the execution square, memories of the previous beheading event came flooding back. The sight of Ned Stark, a traitor, brought a heavy weight to her heart.

"The last time we were all gathered here," Margaery spoke, her voice carrying through the square, "We witnessed the beheading of Ned Stark, a traitor to the realm. Today, we gather again to witness the execution of another traitor: Osmund Kettleblack."

Cheers and tears erupted from the gathered people, a sign of their love and loyalty to Steffon. Margaery was taken aback by the fervor and passion with which the crowd reacted to the mention of their young king. She could not help but be puzzled. On the one hand, she felt a sense of pride in the loyalty of the people, but on the other, she couldn't shake off the unease that the assassination attempt had left in her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Margaery steeled herself and spoke with authority. "Let us proceed with the execution," she commanded, signaling for the executioner to step forward.

With a stoic expression she had adapted from Steffon, she waited for the event to unfold, her mind of nerves and resolve.

As the execution came to a conclusion, the atmosphere in the square turned somber. The life of Ser Osmund had been claimed by the Seven, and the air hung heavy with the weight of the event.