Margaery Tyrell sat before the hearth, every movement careful and deliberate.
"Your Grace," the maid said quietly beside her, "you don't need to do this yourself."
The Queen held an iron skewer, a plucked and gutted grouse turning slowly over the fire. As Margaery rotated it, the bird sizzled, dripping fat into the flames and releasing a mouthwatering aroma.
"This is for the King. Of course I must prepare it myself."
The Rose lifted the grouse from the fire and brushed it with sauce using an oak-bristled brush. The maid hurried forward with a silver platter, letting the delicacy rest upon its gleaming surface.
It smells divine. Outside the window, a crow blinked its green eyes. The spiced grouse's aroma was irresistible; even the maid swallowed hard, unable to hide her hunger.
"Elinor, this is the King's meal. You must restrain yourself," Margaery said with a gentle smile. "Stealing from the lion's mouth can cost you your life."
Indeed it can, she thought—if one truly knows who the lion is.
The door creaked open. The young king stepped inside, the Hound shadowing him as always. Joffrey looked spirited and courteous—at least, when eyes were upon him.
"My dear lady," he said with a polished smile. The crown on his head glittered like sunlight, a gift from Lord Tywin Lannister on the day of the wedding.
What would Tyrion have given his nephew, she wondered? Not that it mattered now. The belated gift had already arrived.
"Your Grace," Margaery rose. "We still have some time before we leave for the sept. I prepared some game for you."
As she spoke, Joffrey's gaze went to the grouse on the platter, its fragrance filling the room. "I've never smelled roast meat like this," he said, appetite stirred. "What is it?"
"Grouse," Margaery answered. "My brother shot it when we rode in the Kingswood."
"My father hunted countless grouse, deer, boar," Joffrey said, leaning closer, "but none ever smelled like this."
"It is thanks to Queen Margaery's skill," said the handmaiden Elinor Tyrell, bowing.
"My love, let me tear off a piece for you," Margaery offered, lifting her sleeves before thinking better of it. "A wing?"
"A leg," the king said. "With the skin."
"It's basted with rich sauce." Margaery tore off the drumstick by hand. Sauce smeared her sleeve. Elinor moved to help, but Margaery stopped her.
"The honor of serving His Majesty is not to be handed to another."
"My beloved wife is quite right," the king said as he sat, gesturing for the Kingsguard to wait outside. He propped up his feet and watched as Margaery continued dismantling the grouse, piece by piece.
"My lady," the maid whispered, "it's too hot—your hands…"
"It's nothing." Her hands were red from the heat, but she seemed not to care. She lifted the drumstick to his lips. "My dear, please enjoy."
Joffrey snatched it and devoured it greedily. Fat and sauce smeared the corners of his mouth as he chewed. "Delicious, my queen. Why don't you have some?"
She nodded demurely, taking a wing from the platter and quietly eating.
The first drumstick was cleaned to the bone in moments. Joffrey grabbed another. "Margaery, would you pour me some wine?"
Elinor hurried forward with the jug—
SMACK!
The king hurled the stripped bone into her face. She froze, stunned.
"Did I ask you to serve me?" Joffrey shouted, rising. "I said the Queen would pour my wine!"
"I—I'm sorry, Your Grace," the maid stammered, retreating, setting the jug on the table. Margaery stood, lifted the jug, and poured half a cup.
"Your Grace, you are too harsh with her," Margaery said softly. "Elinor, you may—"
SMACK!
The king swept the cup from her hand, sending it crashing to the floor.
"Have you lost your mind?" he roared, leaping up. Only the skin of the second leg was gone. "Look at your hands! You smeared grease all over the gold cup!"
"Your Grace." A faint edge of temper colored Margaery's voice.
Elinor trembled, covering her mouth. She had never seen her mistress angry. The Red Keep had no secrets—rumor said the young king was unkind in private, that the marriage was anything but peaceful. But never had he acted like this in front of her.
Joffrey surged to his feet again, raising his hand to strike—then glanced toward the maid.
Elinor's legs nearly gave out.
"Out!" Margaery ordered.
The maid fled, scrambling, nearly falling as she escaped.
Sandor Clegane stood like a stone statue at the door, his mangled face terrifying enough to force a shriek from her.
"Woman," the Hound growled, "remember: you heard nothing, you know nothing."
Elinor nodded frantically. Behind the heavy door came the sounds of shouting, crashing, and sobbing. It lasted ten long minutes.
At last the door burst open. The king stormed out, spat a curse, and marched off without looking back. The Hound followed.
Only after he had been gone for some time did Elinor Tyrell dare push the door open again.
Queen Margaery sat in her chair, hair in disarray, wine staining her gown, clothes twisted. Red handprints marked her cheek.
"My lady…" the maid whispered, shaking.
"Help me clean up," Margaery said calmly, as though the last ten minutes had happened to someone else entirely.
She rose and walked to the window, where she could see the king's procession leaving the Red Keep. Joffrey rode at the front, followed by hounds and six guards. Not many—within the city, Tyrell guards now outnumbered Lannisters. With no queen to escort, only a handful of men stayed by his side.
"My lady, you've never been like this."
"Sometimes, I cannot help it." Margaery kept her gaze on the window. "Even now, my heart is filled with rage."
Her hands trembled.
"My lady… will you not go to the sept?"
"No. The king clearly has no desire for my company."
Margaery dabbed her fingers with a handkerchief. "The road from the Red Keep to the sept runs through long stretches of slums. I pray my dear king does not anger them."
"Don't speak to me. Finish your work, then leave. Let me be."
The maid bowed and stepped back.
Outside the window, the green-eyed crow flapped its wings.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on P@treon.
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
[email protected]/BlurryDream