Queen in the North

Margaery

I forgot to put this into Davos's chapter, but Ghost is also present bc Jon can't leave his loyal kingsguard in Winterfell. So he was shipped over from the boat after Davos's chapter and now he is chillin'. 

The King of the North appeared to be the exact opposite of her lovely Tommen. She had loved Tommen a great deal, but in truth, he was a horrid ruler. He was kind and compassionate, but he had no concept of strategy and he often found himself in want of the true respect of his vassals. In the early days of their marriage, Margaery would tell herself that he would grow to be as cunning as his grandfather, Lord Tywin, but as she grew to know the boy, she recognized that he was simply not made to be a king. He was too innocent and the game of thrones had eaten him alive. 

Compared to her first husband, Tommen had been a more competent ruler for the simple reason of him allowing others to actually do the ruling. Joffery had been too headstrong for that. Joffery had never had any of Tommen's kindness, but at the very least he had the stomach for when ruling, inevitably,  became bloody. Her poor Tommen was unable to live with the genocide that occurred in the Sept of Balor and had killed himself. 

As she looked at the strange northerner from across the dining hall, it was obvious that he was a better king than any of her regal husbands. He barely said a word, but the attention of his men was fixed on him nonetheless. Even his great white direwolf seemed to deemed by his presence. 

The Dragon Queen sat on the other side of the table. Similarly, to the king opposite her, she seemed to command the attention of those around her. Margaery knew that she had never been able to do this as a queen. She always had to call for attention, make herself known of she would soon be forgotten. When she stood beside Tommen, who if it wasn't for his crown would also fade into the surrounding noise, she never noticed it. 

Olenna sat beside her, picking at cheese on her platter. Her eyes glittered as she watched the two monarchs at the front of the hall. Margaery had seen this face a hundred times before, she had seen it when she was presented to Renly Baratheon, when Olenna plotted her betrothal to Joffery and when she took her vows to be Tommen's wife. Olenna was planning something. 

Margaery felt a sick feeling enter her stomach. Hadn't her grandmother's schemes cost them enough? The Tyrells were a dying breed and if they continued their quest for the crown, the paramount house of the Reach would go extinct. 

"What is wrong?" Olenna asked her. 

Margaery looks down and saw that her hands had started to shake. "What is on your mind?" She whispered, dreading the answer. 

Olenna smiled, but her eyes still held a mischievous look. "Nothing that you have to worry about my dear."

Margaery felt her face collapse, the rouse of happiness unable to endure her grandmother's schemes. "I don't feel well. May I be excused?" She whispered hoarsely, wanted to leave her grandmother's side before she revealed whatever she was hiding. 

"Of course. You do look rather pale."Olenna pressed a petite and fail hand against her forehead. It was very easy to look at Olenna and forget how dangerous the queen of thorns really was. 

Margaery was able to leave the hall without drawing any attention to herself, a newfound perk of not holding the title of queen. She wondered the halls of Dragonstone. For a stone castle, it was unnaturally warm. The glossy, black walls were made of dragon's glass and reflected the light of the torches in a matter where the whole inside of the castle was illuminated as if the sun was the ceiling. 

She turned into the massive library and found the couch where she would often retire to when she could no longer stomach the presence of others. For the most part, she was the only one who would enter this room, except for Lord Tyrion, but they seemed to have a mutual understanding that they were here to be alone, so he would situate himself as far from her as possible and leave her to her own devices. She had never been an avid reader, but since her arrival at Dragonstone, books seemed to be her only escape from the outside world. 

She found the Dance of Dragons on the shelf where she had left it last night. It still awed her how dragons, the beasts that were a myth, were now real. She ran a fond finger over the spine of the book and curled up on the couch in the back of the library. This must have been her eighth time reading the story, but it had always been her favorite. As children, she and Loras would listen to their father read them the story, making funny voices when nobody was around. 

She must have been there for a few hours before somebody walked into the library. She didn't even bother to look up from her book before she heard a gruff voice fill the chamber. "Ghost, how did we get ourselves into this mess?" 

She raised her eyes and saw the curly raven hair of the king from between the bookshelves. He clearly didn't realize that she was there. His voice sounded defeated and exhausted. She never heard the padding of paws before the wolf was in front of her. 

A small squeak escaped her lips as he sniffed her hands, the king rounded the bookcase. "Ghost!" He called, and the direwolf padded to his side. "I'm sorry, my lady. He didn't mean any harm."

Margaery was taken aback. A king was apologizing to her. Even Tommen would never apologize for such a minor incident. Cersei was sure to instill that kings do not apologize into her sons. She scrambled to her feet and courstied. "Your grace." She greeted. 

The king grimaced at the term, clearly still uncomfortable with the title. "Please, call me Jon." 

"Margaery." She held out her hand, which he shook with rough calloused hands. Tommen's hands had been as soft as a babe's, but Tommen had never worked a day in his life. 

"Margaery, it's a pleasure to formally meet you." Ghost had drifted back to Margaery's side and resumed sniffing her hand. 

"And you as well, your--- Jon. May I ask you a question?" She corrected herself and plastered a smile on her face. It was the smile that she wore every day in the Red Keep. 

"Of course."

"When your sister, Sansa, was in Kingslanding she and I were friends. I was just wondering if she was well?" 

"She is. Thank you for asking. She is currently the Lady of Winterfell. She often spoke of you and your kindness towards her. Thank you for being there for her when nobody else was." Jon's face lights up as he talks about his sister. 

"That is good to hear. She was a good friend to me as well." Margaery hopes that she will see her old friend one day. Perhaps when the war is over, she will visit Winterfell. 

"Im sorry for the loss of your husband." He sounds like he means it, despite Tommen being his enemy.

"Thank you. I know that you were fighting against him, but Tommen was good. It was Cersei that poisoned his reign. She was the one who was cruel, not Tommen." Margaery held back the tears that would well in her eyes whenever she spoke of Tommen. 

Jon either didn't notice the tears or did her the kindness of not addressing them. He opened his mouth to say something but the Queen and Tyrion walked in. 

"Your grace, my lord." Margaery courtesied and Jon nodded his head to greet them. 

"My Lady," The queen offered her a tight-lipped smile and turned to Jon. "Your grace, may I have a word?"

"Aye." Jon nodded. He turned to Margaery, "Have a lovely evening, my lady." 

"And you, your grace." She said and watched the party depart, leaving her alone yet again with her books.