Growing Fire and Blood Roses || Margaery & Viserys
She followed him and took a bite of the creamed swan. It was reminiscent of the dish she had favored at Highgarden, but there was a slightly different flavor to it. Perhaps the herbs that the chef had used were different, or the cream was mixed in another way. “Ah that would make sense, many of them must be accostumed to much lighter foods than the ones eaten in the keep. We are very luck in the Reach to have such fertile lands and be able to supply food for so much of the kingdom. I am sure the farmers are only happy to be growing food for their king.” At his suggestion looked up at him, slightly surprised, but nonetheless pleased. “I am sure they would be so appreciative to hear their king complimenting their work. And Willas would be more than happy to share your words with them.” She met his eyes for a second and smiled at him, thinking that there may be more to him than she knew. She sampled a bite of the quail that had been prepared. Quail had never been her favorite meat, but it was well made and she found the taste of it pleasant.
Though she didn’t think of it when she mentioned him, seeing the King’s face at the sound of Daemon’s name made her worry. Viserys clearly did not think highly of him. “Yes it certainly is. It must be very strange for you to suddenly have a large family after being without one for so long.” She chose her words carefully, hoping to move the conversation away from the other Targaryen for whom her feelings were rather confusing. “Lady Sansa is well. She seems very happy here, although I believe she may wish to visit her home again. She seems to smile especially when she is your nephew, they seem to be very good friends.” Margaery knew her friend had developed a certain fondness for the Targaryen prince, and hoped to help the king see the use in the match.
Viserys appreciated the regal way that Margaery held herself. All emotionality aside, she would make a good queen, he thought shrewdly, if he could find it in himself to trust her. Her motions were courteous and willowy, like the trees from her homeland, and her every laugh rang with summer. It was hard not to smile around her, but he was too stubborn to let on too much too quickly. Viserys was not daft: she probably charmed all of the men in this way, and Viserys was not just any man. If he was going to elect to raise her on high, he wanted to feel—special—too. It was a foolish notion, the sort left over from his interactions with Rhaegar, but nevertheless things that he had still been brought up on. As a child, it was always Rhaegar who was to be King, until it wasn't. Then the weight of the dynasty had fallen on him, but he never forgot his elder brother, the knight Viserys had always looked up to. Even though sharing the same blood, his brother had been so much older that he seemed half a god. Viserys had never been allowed such follies in the harsh way he and his sister had to sacrifice to survive... but now that he was on the throne, that part of him that kept Rhaegar's memory alive still wanted those same follies, though he hoped he was more practical than to tear a kingdom asunder for them. Unlike his brother, though, both Viserys and Margaery were unwed.
Viserys preened under her pleasure, happy to have both surprised and charmed her with his brilliant idea of writing to the farmers. A trifle of paper was no trouble to have drawn up and the King knew the value of a Royal seal. Just as the Targaryens had not been North since Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys and he had to rectify that, Viserys was aware that giving acknowledgement to those who did not often get it won him favour. He coveted that. "It shall be done, my lady. I'll have the letter attended to on the morrow. Would it be best to send it to Lord Willas directly, or for me to send it through you?" he asked, probing curiously if she would desire to leave the capital for home. Everyone was always so homesick, but what had he for that? This was his home, every millimeter, both gorgeous and terrifying. The Red Keep was fashioned after his people; they mirrored one another. If he did not love it, he did not love himself. When she met his eyes, the proud arrogance there softened, but only for a moment. He shifted his weight and considered the topic of Willas, considering briefly the ravens he had shared with young Lord Bran. "Do you think your brother might have an interest in fostering a young boy, similar to himself?" the King asked, wondering if Lady Catelyn would ever assent to it. He knew it had to be her decision: he could not take the children she so clearly wanted near her and keep her friendship. But Bran might thrive under the camaraderie of someone like him, Viserys reflected.
Viserys nodded after her comment regarding his family. He had no chance to share his feelings on this matter, not even fully with Daenerys, whom he had to protect no matter the cost. No one ever asked Viserys how he felt, and so, he did not offer his feelings. He had to be King. He had to be perfect. Emotions were messy and imperfect; there was no room for them when it came to ruling with fear and love. The emotions of others were all that mattered. It was... very difficult for him. But the dynasty, the throne, his family—those were what mattered to him. He had sacrificed much and more to be here; his emotions hardly seemed to matter then, they could not matter now. So he shared them, because he had been asked, knowing that his decisions could not be made on them, and therefore the information could not be used against him. "Everything I do, I do for family," he said intensely. "To avenge the family I lost when I was so young. To re-establish my family today. I miss them... more than I have words for." He knew Margaery's family was all still alive; he did not think she could relate to the depth of his loss, the darkness inside of him that grew like hot hot heat at the thought of how Rhaegar, Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon had died. What he would do to keep Daenerys alive. Himself alive.
"It... is more than I could hope, for family," he said in a quiet whisper. "I can only make it myself, as strong as I can. These may be pretenders or they may be true, but family is the choices you make. Betrayers cannot be family. I—must needs know more, before I could ever call them such." Before he could ever find the happiness he ached for in them, was what went unsaid. "Family is those loyal, by blood or otherwise; family grows together and strengthens together. My sister and I will make our family strong again." Whether that involved their distant blood or not remained to be seen. He saw promise in his young cousin Aegon, but he knew the whispers he had heard about the others. Two-faced, most like. When the conversation shifted to Sansa, Viserys nodded. "The alliance of her family means a good deal to me, and as such, their happiness. I am hoping to make her a match that may please her. She seems... quite fond of my cousin, and he of her. I have broached the matter with both of them. He is amenable, providing she is. When I have further word from her, I will move forward with discussions and arrangements." Margaery was clever: she would note what he was doing, building strength that both suited his political aims as well as pleasing others. He hoped it would impress her, though he had made the choice before ever trying to do such.
