“Not as familiar as you are, I am sure,” she said, ever gracious, a small smile settling on her face as she lifted her violet eyes to his face. Reaching for her wine she took a soft sip. The wine was better in Westeros than it had been in Meereen. It was kind of him to entertain her. Most of her time in High Garden had been spent in the company of Lady Olenna, or Willas. She had arrived on the shores of Westeros with thousands of troops, warriors famed for their fierceness, and more importantly still, three dragons. Now the bargaining began. What was it the Dragon Queen could give the people of the Reach. Margaery and Loras, if it was in her power to give them back to their family she would. “That is the part of the history I do know,” she said, “House Gardner stood with House Lannister, they had five times the men than King Aegon did. But Aegon had his dragon, and his sisters. The Field of Fire, it was the only time all three dragons were in the same battle.” Daenerys may not be an expert on the Reach, but her brother had instructed her on the history of their house. The history of Targaryen Kings and Queens who had come before them had been her bedtime stories.
“I also know that House Tyrell supported my father during the Rebellion. Your family has always been very loyal to mine, that’s the history I know,” she said. Dany’s violet eyes took in his face, they didn’t miss the worry in his eyes, or that his smile was hollow. “I will repay that loyalty as best I can. I know your sister is Tommen’s Queen, but I am not Tywin Lannister. I will not have what happened to my good sister happen to her,” or to the young Tommen. She wasn’t Tywin Lannister. She wasn’t Robert Baratheon. She wasn’t her father. Innocents would not be butchered in her name.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 were those who allowed for house Tyrell to become what it was now and ever since the Tyrells shared a closed history with the then ruling house, right until to their fall. They rewarded, on their path of conquest, but they punished as well. The very history of the Reach was a prime example of both situations. His fears and worries must have been clear to read on his face, though, for the young queen anticipated his following question, reassuring him before he could even say those words. Some of the tension in his body disappeared, a weight lifted from his heart — Margaery could come home, not harmed. Words weren’t actions ; but all the same, he preferred to believe those words would become truth, once the Targaryen sat on the throne. He preferred to trust his brother’s judgment of the girl who crossed the Narrow Sea with three dragons at her back and the desire of reclaiming the throne her ancestors built.
« I won’t lie. » He said, reaching for his own wine goblet, eyes staring at the liquid as if he could see all the answers to the asks an uncertain future posed — not yet raising it to his lips. The war saw him witness his sister getting married to husbands he deemed not suited just for political gain, his brother turning into a bitter version of the person he was before. The war saw him donning the armour of a dead man, slipping poison into a king’s wine, saying goodbye to his wife when her company was the one he needed the most on his way to defend their home. « My family’s wellbeing is the only thing that matters to me — if that is what you promise, then you have my support. »
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