A Song of Ice and Fire - Fanfic and Fanart Exchange

Title: Peacekeepers
Author: oparu
For: opheliahyde
Characters: Elia Martell, Margaery Tyrell, Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark (mixed pairings)
Rating: PG/gen
Words: 2668
Warnings: no warnings apply. AU so no real spoilers for anything.
Prompt: Sansa, Cersei, Asha, Jeyne, Margaery, Daenerys, Elia, Arianne - gen/AU: tell me a story of queens, those that would-be or could-be, those that are and those that were; all of these ladies have a story, I'd love to hear it---if anything else, you could always write an AU where the ladies rule Westeros.

Summary: Elia makes peace, Daenerys, Margaery and Sansa keep it.



After Rhaegar died, the Vipers took the throne. At least that was whispered among the more jealous families. Elia Martell, who had always stood in her husband's shadow, turned peacemaker when exposed to the sun. With rubies from her husband's shattered armour in her hand, she called the Dornish army to the capital, protecting her children. With Aegon too young to rule and a rebel army surrounding her, Rhaegar's scorned wife came to the Iron Throne.

The frail Queen went north and met Lord Stark on the capital road while the Lannisters invaded her city and killed her people. The Queen in silk and samite stood before war-worn armour and Valyrian steel. Stories tell that they spoke alone, in a white tent. Eddard Stark had more hunger for justice than war and all of the Seven Kingdoms owe peace to his silence. Quiet words sent his sword to sheath because no more deaths would return his family to Winterfell. His sister was dead in the Red Keep and Elia's promises that it was not at Targaryen hands but in blood and fever, brought peace.

They rode to King's Landing together and walked the steps of the Red Keep, the grey wolf clad in the dust of war and the queen in pale gold. The Queen's men met them with Aerys' ashes and a story of the king's death that no one living has heard, save Lord Stark. The Queen found Aerys dead in his bed shortly after Lyanna Stark died, and the bells tolled in the Red Keep out of mercy more than grief.

Before Lord Stark returned north, she showed him her sons, Aegon and Jon (not a Dornish or a Valyrian name, which sent the smallfolk talking). The second much darker then the first but both the blood of the dragon.

Elia blamed her Dornish colouring, but the Septas gossiped that after Aegon, Elia could have borne no more sons and that the new boy was a changeling or a secret son of someone else. The gossip died away as the dead of the rebellion were buried. Elia had two boys to follow her to the throne and the North was more loyal to the Iron Throne than ever.

Elia's truce held.

Lord Stark sent his banners home to their families and returned north with Lyanna's bones.

Though wounded, Robert Baratheon yelled and raged at the end of the fighting but Rhaegar was dead and his pride avenged. Elia had no sisters to offer him and her niece Arianne was still too young for marriage, but she swore to help him find a wife. Robert was eventually married to a widow of the war, a Northern woman with fire in her veins who told him if he sought the company of whores, she would as well.

The nobles schemed and the smallfolk planted battlefields with grain. Westeros grew quiet and lazy like the trout in the Trident.

Elia sat the Iron Throne while her one son grew tall and silver-haired; her daughter and the second son stayed dark. The North was quiet, the Riverlands lush, the Stormlands fertile from the summer storms, the Vale peaceful, the Iron Islands wild but held at bay by Houses Arryn and Stark, Dorne reached out with music and wine, the Westerlands grew gold as if it were full of trees of gold dragons and the Reach bloomed and made arbour gold.

Margaery knew the tales. She'd heard the whispered gossip that the second Targaryen son was more Northern than Dornish, but she still stirred on her horse in excitement as they neared the capital. The Queen had called for audience, and the great Houses were all on the roads. The scouts said Baratheon was just ahead and Lannister behind, still carrying their grudges. Her grandmother said all the Lannister wealth cannot replace honour.

Old rumours still whisper that Lord Tywin would have killed the princess and princes if Stark had not arrived first in the city. Cersei is still widowed and because she petitioned the Dornish queen, she will inherit Casterly Rock and rumour has it she has no wish to share it with a new husband. She has her children, two golden boys and a girl, and she keeps the rock like a lioness in the sun.

Glancing to her mother, Margaery remembers hearing through the door that Cersei's husband was an idiot, one who knew not where his lionness slept. She shouldn't know and that makes it all the more fascinating.

She will finally see the Greyjoys, raiders of the shores; the Starks, wolves of the North; the Sand Snakes and all of the great ladies of the Vale, the folk of the Stormlands and the people of all the lands she has yet to see.

Her parents will be looking for a husband for her. Magaery is old enough now, she's bled and she wonders what a marriage to her will be worth. The Reach is wealthy and the Tyrells have nearly as much gold as the Lannisters. She'll have a fine husband and as much as she loves Highgarden, she prays the Seven will send her to a new place. She'd love to arrive in Dorne as a foreign queen, or ride into Winterfell, where snow falls in summer. She craves variety, because all the tales have filled her ears and she can recite gossip from years past.

Now is a peaceful time, the Reach is green and ever-beautiful, but she has never see the snow, nor the Wall between them and the old demons beyond. She cannot stay a summer child, wreathed in roses.

She must be more.

Her parents lead her down the long hallway, finding their rightful place in the first row with all the great houses. The Lannisters are on their left, Lord Twyin looks as stern as a stone giant, Cersei beautiful yet wild like an untamed horse. Jamie, her brother, still serves in the Queensguard, a golden man in gleaming white, with more mirth in his smile than his sister's. The Baratheons are on their right, Robert huge and muscled, like Margaery's brother Garlan; Stannis quiet and grim; Renly bright and laughing. Past them are the Tullys, Lord Holster stands frail and small, but he still stands and Lady Olenna whispers that is what counts.

The Greyjoys come bearing their weapons and with them is a woman in breeches, covered with golden and jewels, none of which match.

"They call it the iron price," the Westerling girl in the row behind whispers to Margaery. "You have to kill the owner to wear fine things. Anyone who buys their jewels is a coward."

This Greyjoy with her dark tunic and bright yellow kraken has killed to wear her necklaces. Margaery's were put on her that morning by servants and she feels empty. She must be more than a pretty thing traded in marriage for her house's allegiance. She's more than a traded bauble and she will prove it.

Dorne arrives with fanfare and Arianne Martell walks the centre aisle with her head high and long, dark hair smooth on her back. Behind her are her half-sisters, the Sand Snakes, all wild and some dressed in silks so thin Margaery wouldn't be allowed to wear them beneath her clothes,let alone as dresses. She envies their confidence and how none of them seem to mind the eyes on them.

Margaery remembers the Westerling daughter is called Jeyne, around her age, with a mother Olenna describes as a schemer. Jeyne has a nice smile and Margaery will have to find her later. Perhaps Jeyne's being married off as well.

She barely has time to glance at the Starks; they're down on the end and there are five children with fur on their cloaks. One of the girls, whose red hair seems too bright for the northlands smiles back at Margaery across the room.

Will they be allies someday? Will their children dance together or raise swords to each other? How can she guess what's to come when kings go mad and princes start wars?

When all are finally assembled, Queen Elia Martell, with skin like pale milk and eyes too bright in her face, takes the Iron Throne. Rhaenys, who could be heir to the throne if her mother pushed for it, stands behind her, dark like the Martells but with stillness in her eyes. Margaery's mother said the mad king's eyes rolled in his head, so stillness is a good sign. On the other side of the throne are the boys, Aegon, tall and silver-haired, and Jon, smaller and dark. There's some of his siblings in his face, the set of his jaw, but his eyes are deep brown.

Far down the row of nobles, the younger Stark girl fidgets. The Greyjoy woman, the one Margaery admires, toys with the handle of her axe. Margaery stands still after her curtsy. She knows her manners and she will do her family proud.

The rest happens quickly. The queen explains her choices, preferring the openness of a full assembly to the mutters of chambers. Her children have been betrothed for sometime, and now that she is weak and cannot trust herself to live to see them wed in due course, all will wed together. The wedding feast has been prepared and it will be the greatest yet seen in Westeros.

When the queen rises from her throne, walking down with steps so quiet she seems to float, Margaery listens intently, curious to see who will marry into the Targaryens and rule. When she hears her name and watches her parents nodding and smiling, she stops, still as the breezeless night.

The princess in exile arrives last, walking through the crowd with her head held high. She is Rhaella's daughter,born in a storm after her mother fled revenge that never came, Margaery barely has the wits to notice her silver hair and how bright and terrified her eyes are. She's not the only bride unprepared.

Marriage contracts must have flown thick in dark rooms, but there will be peace. Everyone whispers it. There must be peace. Summer cannot last forever and the land will not survive a winter war.

The Starks say winter is coming, and standing before the Iron Throne, Margaery's skin knows the chill.

That night she's sent to the Maidenvault with the rest of the brides. She barely heard their names before she was kissed and congratulated. She's barely seen her husband-to-be's eyes and tomorrow he will replace her cloak with his.

It's a wedding of seven, something sure to honour the gods. Princess Rhaenys, who has no desire for the throne is for Willas, Margaery's sweet crippled brother. She will love him, Margaery hopes, for he is kind and will treat her well. Daenerys, the princess-in-exile now the princess returned will marry Renly Baratheon, healing a break between the houses. Sansa, who smiles so beautifully will have Prince Aegon, a gallant prince for the young wolf.

The widowed lioness, Cersei will wed Viserys Targaryen, for he desires power and the Lannisters have wealth. Margaery can't see through Cersei's smile but wonders if she cares for the match. Viserys is beautiful, Targaryens usually are, but they make an odd couple: one silver, one gold.

The dragon must have three heads. It's an old whisper, something more of tales than truth, but Margaery remembers it as she says her vows. She stands among dragons as Jon trades her cloak for his.

The feast lasts from midday 'til night and Margaery barely has time for a word or two with her husband between all the nobles to meet and dishes to eat. Jon seems kind, and his hands are strong. Sansa is the one she speaks with, the one who shares her fear and wonder. Sansa is younger than Margaery, but she squeezes her hand beneath the table when the knights start to joke about the bedding.

They are nervous together that first night.

Daenerys sits on Margaery's other side, almost too beautiful to be flesh instead of a tapestry.

"Renly is kind," Margaery whispers to her. "He and my brother have been friends since childhood. He laughs very well and loves music."

"I don't know much music," Daenerys says, looking down at her plate. "I will learn."

"He'll be a good husband."

"I hope they all will be," Daenerys says, finding a smile. "I hear we will live in the city together."

"We will be wives together," Margaery says, lifting her goblet. "The three wives of the dragon."

Sansa laughs. "More like two wives and a dragon."

Daenerys looks thoughtful, as if something just touched her mind. "Did you receive a dragon's egg too?"

Sansa and Margaery nod together. The eggs are only stone, of course, but they are beautiful.

---

Queen Elia dies less than a fortnight after the wedding. She whispers her secret to Margaery and Sansa, making them promise to be quiet for the sake of the peace. Jon is the blood of the dragon, but also the blood of the wolf.

Sansa never knew Lyanna Stark, but she tells Margaery that her mother wanted her to wed Jon, the quieter brother until her father said something and the idea disappeared. Aegon was the only husband for her.

Elia carries the promise she made to Lyanna Stark to her pier, breathing her last with some kind of peace.

Margaery returns to her marital bed with, wondering if she would keep a such a promise. She decides it's a foolish thought because Jon is an honourable man. He makes a good husband, dutiful and eager in bed, respectful in public and content to live their lives as partners in a grand endeavour.

Daenerys and Sansa are those she loves. Renly spends nearly as much time with Margaery's brother as he does with his wife, Jon takes his position on the small council so seriously that Margaery has to search for ways to make him laugh and Aegon is the king. He belongs to the people as much as he does Sansa.

Their bellies swell with children, one after the other. Sansa's is the hand she holds when pain sends her to childbed, Daenery is first to hold Margaery's daughter and Sansa the first to hold Daenerys' son.

Their children play together, babes with silver hair, bright red like autumn leaves and dark curls are a family. Margaery has her place, her love is well spent on the women at her sides at her babies. She grows fond of Jon, Sansa and Aegon have twins, and Daenerys learns to love Loras and Renly together.

The septons might squirm to know what happens behind closed palace doors, but peace remains.

Only the threat of the Others Beyond the Wall brings strife and even that has its rewards. The stone eggs rest in hot coals, always ready to be touched by some, always too hot for the rest.

The hatching and training of three baby dragons takes more than their whole shared brood of children, but the dragons turn the tide.

The legends of the dragon having three heads echoed in Margaery's thoughts when she sat astride Elarion, the great black dragon named for the queen who brought peace. Rhaegal soars at their side with Daenerys guiding him and Rickarion, Sansa's mount, follows.

The smallfolk call them the mothers of dragons and the peace remains. Margaery spends her days with her children, both scaled and flesh, and her nights in the great bed she shares with Sansa and Daenerys.

They whisper late into the darkness and wake in each other's arms. They are the family of dragons; all that was promised.

- fin -