Yet as it became clear I was spiralling, having something resembling a confidant - even if I could not completely trust her - was useful. Someone to share the burden with.
It was at her suggestion that my regular circadian rhythm had been restored - with ample assistance from some of the Grandmaester's dreamwine, of course.
...
That first night's sleep had been dreamless, almost eerily so, but it had been restful, and my head felt clearer, calmer than it had in weeks. The subsequent nights had also been better, if not quite so restful. Doubtless, a lack of Bloodraven's voice in my head had only helped matters, as had the fact that my injuries were close to healing. In spite myself, I almost felt in a cheerful mood. Some of the stresses of power had retreated enough to allow me to relax - if only for the moment.
Yet still the knowledge of impending disaster remained - the truth of which I struggled to both discern and divulge, even as it dominated every conscious decision I made. And even as I worked to avert it, I also worked to divert my attentions to other things. Brooding accomplished little. I was doing what I could. And though everything was moving frustratingly slowly, things were moving. Or so I had convinced myself.
I just need to be more patient. More distracted.
"Well, perhaps a little," I acknowledged. "Even I will confess the princess is pretty. But a snake with a pretty pattern on its back is no less poisonous than one without. The gall! Prince Doran thought he could slip one by me, eh?"
"A mistake he'll pay dearly for, I'm sure."
"Oh, certainly. But something tells me the concessions we planned to extract simply won't suffice. Arianne has her part of the blame to bear. She's too outrageous, too unsubtle. Hells, she's been all but shoving her teats into my face since the moment she arrived! I get the feeling Doran ought to have disciplined her more as a child."
Margaery quirked a lone brow, bemused. "And you mean to make up for this?" she guessed.
"I have always wondered what it would be like to have two women," I confessed. "I am my father's son, after all. And I saw how eager you were with her, when I arrived. That offer you made... I haven't been able to put it out of my mind."
Margaery cocked her head in thought, her voice taking on a playful lilt. "How do I know she won't steal you away?"
I snorted. "What was it you said, after Joffrey was buried? When we become married I become yours..."
"Forever," she finished for me.
I allowed the playfulness to drop for a moment in favour of a touch more earnest approach. "Our marriage is ours. So long as our final loyalties are to one another, then what does it matter if we choose to invite the odd outsider?" I shrugged. "Consider it even, if you must. You got to play with the princess - at my request, I'll grant. But you enjoyed it all the same. So why shouldn't I? I tire of being tempted. We've both been good. We deserve a little fun now and then, no?"
"The princess is rather fun," Margaery conceded. "When I was little, I stumbled across Loras with one his lovers. The sight stuck with me, the thought of another woman... It has always intrigued me, I'll admit. Yet there are still risks."
"Of course," I agreed. "But I don't plan on siring a bastard - you can be certain I'll take precautions. And, in any case, this affair will not last long. Just a few weeks, maybe a month or two - enough time to bend her a little more to my will - and then she's gone. And if you're uncomfortable, you only need to say the word and it'll stop. I intend to invite another to our bed, not to stray from it."
Now it was Margaery's turn to snort. "Most kings have kept mistresses. Most lords visit brothels and whores without a second thought. Even Jaehaerys the Conciliator strayed from the Good Queen Alyssane's bed from time to time. I knew - and expected - as much when I wed you. And though you have held up valiantly till now, it was inevitable that some girl or another would catch your eye. But how many wives can say it took a princess - that no lesser woman would suffice?"
"Not many, I'd wager. Truly, my wife is no ordinary woman."
Margaery nodded proudly. "Nor is my husband any ordinary man."
I gazed at her, observing the way she held herself. Till now, she had been mostly sweet, pliant. Playing very much into her innocent look. Yet this was not the first time that I was getting hints of Olenna lurking beneath it all. The same shrewdness lingered in her eyes. In her mouth, I suspected, was hidden a similarly witty tongue. And though she had not yet adopted the blatant cynicism that was her grandmother's mark, it seemed she had long ago shed her naivety.
I had always known Margaery was a clever girl, but this was new. I could already see her, hunched and wrinkled in fifty years time, sat knitting on some terrace in the keep as she watched the world below do her bidding. I couldn't help but laugh at the image. Margaery shot me a confused look.
"Ever full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Only a few, Your Grace. And only good ones, I hope."
I smiled. "Oh, the best. Now you sit there and look chastened. After so much effort I don't want the princess to see through our ploy."
And with that, I again called in the guards. Arianne would be awaiting my summons, I knew. She was, after all, privy to what she believed the true cause of my weeklong estrangement from Margaery. But I was still curious. She had kept her distance, hadn't used the time to spread any rumours. Had she realised her mistake, or was she soon to saunter into this room with the same overconfident expression plastered onto her face?
The answer arrived before me in short order, with a brief introduction from Ser Loras and a shallow curtsy. With a single finger I granted her a seat. Arianne lowered herself down into a confident posture, clad in even more confident attire, but there was an undeniable air of caution about her. Sensible for anyone, but unusual for one as typically careless as her. My refusal to so much as acknowledge her existence in the past week must have helped make room for the seeds of doubt in her mind.
"What you did was unacceptable," I began, allowing my previous mirth to morph into cold iron.
Arianne did not respond, merely meeting my gaze and waiting. Trying to appear confident.
I leaned back in my seat and sized her up, irritated by her apparent impertinence. "You will no longer attend small council meetings," I declared. "Assuming I don't dispose of your seat entirely, I'll have one of your cousins take your place. And soon enough, you'll be gone too. Back to Sunspear you'll slink with your tail tucked between your legs, like the bitter disappointment Doran always knew you to be."
Arianne's confidence began melting away, aghast.
"With Quentyn overseas, rallying the Golden Company to his side..." I clicked my tongue, playing up the false fears I knew still lingered in her mind. "Whatever concerns you may have had about your inheritance, princess..." I allowed myself to trail off.
"Your Grace," she croaked, bewildered, seemingly unable to believe what she was witnessing. Beside her Margaery sat quiet, the briefest flash of confusion crossing her features before the corners of her lips quirked up into a shade of a smile as she nodded along to my words.
"It was a bold plan, princess," I continued. "You knew I would never accept the subtle approach. You knew you needed to surprise me, to do something to lower my resistance and render me vulnerable to your charms. And what better than the sight of two willing women wrapped in passionate embrace, beckoning for a third to join? Not even Ned Stark could resist that, surely. Yet you overplayed your hand. With my sister in your father's hands, you know I can't arrest you. But that doesn't mean I can't ruin you."
I stroked my chin as though in thought. "Let's see, I can't tell the truth about your dismissal - that would hardly reflect well on me, now would it? But all the best lies have a grain of truth, don't they?" I let a slow grin split my lips. "You tried to seduce Tywin Lannister, tried to win him over into supporting your claim to Sunspear, and failed. And thus, you were banished."
A look of horror crossed her face.
"I wonder how the lords of Dorne would react to the news of you trying to fuck the man who they deem guilty for killing your aunt? Or perhaps you succeeded in taking him to bed, but failed to win his affections? Who knows? I can only guess."
"I'll deny it," she immediately replied. "I'll tell the truth."
I shrugged. "And you are free to do so. Not that it'll help your case, of course. Your reputation is well-known throughout Dorne. Your refusal to be wed in spite your age certainly hasn't helped. When did you lose your maidenhead - thirteen, fourteen? To the Bastard of Godsgrace, of all people. And you haven't stopped since."
"They're more likely to believe me than you, the son of the Usurper," she spat, her eyes angry.
...
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