Margaery was the only one who could do this. Willas was good and kind and he had a fair face, but a conquering queen would not want a man with a crippled leg. Loras was beautiful and he won the hearts of young girls without trying, but despite her tender age, the Mother of Dragons was too experienced in the ways of the world to be fooled by a lover of men. Margaery was the most beautiful of them and skilled at pleasing a woman; it had to be her.

The problem was, the queen was not known to be a lover of women. The tales of her erotic exploits were numerous. She'd mated with a savage warlord beneath the open skies, and she'd taken a sellsword to her bed and let her cries of pleasure be heard throughout her palace, without heed for her husband. There were other tales, but those two were the only ones Tyrell spies had been able to confirm. However, even the unconfirmed tales said nothing of the queen taking female lovers.

Margaery would have welcomed the challenge if it was only the sating of her own desires at stake, and if time was of no concern, but the lives and fortune of her family depended on her winning the queen within the week. At the end of the week, the Targaryen queen would sit on the Iron Throne and pass judgment on House Tyrell.

Margaery mourned the loss of Garlan, not only because she loved her brother, but because she was sure he'd have been able to win the queen's heart. Garlan had been the best of them. He'd had Willas's goodness, Loras's talent for battle, and her charm. No woman could have resisted him. He'd loved his wife Leonette, but he would have seduced Daenerys for the sake of the family. Margaery wiped her tears away. There was no use dwelling on what might have been. Garlan was dead and she was the family's only hope.

They were guilty of the crimes they were accused of. They'd supported the usurpers Renly Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, and Tommen Baratheon. Tyrell armies had fought for all three, and Margaery had wed them each in turn. Daenerys even knew of their negotiations with Aegon Targaryen, which was supposed to have been a well guarded secret. At best, they would be stripped of their titles, lands, and gold. At worst, she'd feed them all to her dragons. Unless they gave her a reason to allow them to retain their lives and wealth.

They could not offer an alliance when she had three dragons and she could take everything they had anyway. No, their only chance to save themselves was to make Daenerys love them. And the fastest way to make her love them was to make her love having Margaery in her bed.

Margaery was confident she could make any woman love her once she had her in bed. The problem was how to get into the queen's bed. There was no time to befriend her and subtly court her; no time for friendly kisses and embraces to slowly turn erotic. Usually when Margaery desired a noble lady, after she had befriended her and they spent their days riding and having picnics in the woods, she'd invite her to share her bed for a night of gossip, as friends did. It was easy then to caress a woman's breasts and slip a hand between her legs, and after she'd experienced the pleasure Margaery could give her, even the shyest maiden had happily let Margaery have her again.

Margaery smiled fondly as she thought of the girls she'd bedded. She did not feel sinful, kneeling before the altar of the Maiden and remembering past loves. After all, as far as the septons were concerned, only men were a threat to a maid's virtue. She was a maiden still, pure in the eyes of the gods.

Then suddenly she knew what to do. The men and women of the court called her a whore. Even though they suspected enough about Renly to know that he never bedded her, and even though Joffrey died at their wedding feast and Tommen died while still a child, they still called her a whore. The Whore of Highgarden, who spread her legs for a crown. They said it to put themselves in the new queen's good graces; she tolerated no good said of the Baratheons and the Lannisters, or of Queen Margaery, the Rose of Highgarden, the beloved of the smallfolk.

If Daenerys liked to think of her as a whore, then Margaery would be her whore. Margaery thought she knew a truth about women like Daenerys Targaryen, and Cersei Lannister before her. They loved power more than they loved flesh. If she demonstrated to Daenerys how low she had fallen; if she allowed Daenerys to revel in her power over her, then it would not matter that the queen did not bed women. The queen would want to fuck her in order to fuck her in the worst sense of the word.

The following day Margaery approached the Iron Throne as Daenerys held court. She went to her knees, gracefully, and prettily begged for a private audience with the queen. Perhaps curious, Daenerys granted her one. She was told to be ready later that afternoon. Someone would be sent to summon her when it was time.

Margaery was ready when a knight of the Queensguard came to fetch her. She was dressed in her finest gown and her best jewelry. All the silk and lace and gold and gems would serve as a reminder to Daenerys of her value and hence the great glory Daenerys had won in her conquest of Margaery and House Tyrell. Margaery might be a whore, but she was a whore only kings and queens could afford.

Daenerys was dining on a light supper of exotic fruits and blue cheese when Margaery was ushered into her presence. Margaery was told to sit, but she was not offered food. A Dothraki warrior stood guard inside the room, although Ser Barristan was posted outside. Margaery wondered whether Daenerys always took such precautions with her safety, or whether the queen viewed her as a threat. Almost everyone thought the Imp had poisoned Joffrey, but there were a few who knew the truth.

"Your Grace, there is a matter I should like to discuss in private. A woman's matter," she said demurely, with a glance towards the savage glaring at her.

"Rakharo is blood of my blood," Daenerys replied, "And this is as private as you will get, Lady Margaery."

She disliked the thought of a man's eyes on her while she did what she'd have to do, but Margaery plowed ahead. "I wish to make a wager with you, Your Grace."

"I do not make wagers with enemies, but you have roused my curiosity. What sort of wager?"

Margaery knelt at the queen's feet, the better to appeal to her desire for conquest and power. "I wager I can bring you to the greatest pleasure you'll ever experience."

Daenerys was surprised. Then she laughed. "So the rose will whore herself to me, too!"

"I can give you more pleasure, greater pleasure than any man ever could. Give me the chance to prove the truth of my words, Your Grace, and you will not regret it."

"Do you believe that servicing me will make me spare you and your traitorous family?"

"I hope it will, Your Grace. If you permit me to please you, you will want to keep me alive to please you again and again." Margaery dared to put her hand on the queen's bare calf. "Please, Your Grace. My father kept faith with King Aerys when the other lords paramount rebelled. For the sake of that loyalty, grant me this request. I do not beg you for my life, only for the chance to prove to you that my life can be valuable to you."

Daenerys smiled suddenly and it was not a kind smile. "Why not? You may wear your tongue out; it will not change my mind about feeding your fickle family to my children." She slouched in her chair and parted her legs, an invitation to Margaery to begin.

Margaery started instead with her feet. She removed the queen's slippers and sucked her toes, one by one. She had never done anything like that before, but she thought the more she debased herself, the greater the queen's satisfaction. When she was finished sucking the queen's toes, Margaery licked the soles of her feet. She folded the queen's skirt out of the way, and kissed her way up one leg and down the other. At last, she put her face between the queen's thighs.

Margaery had always enjoyed tasting other women, and as she tasted Daenerys, she almost forgot that her life depended on it. She feasted on the queen's cunt and eagerly drank her juices. Daenerys was moaning and pulling at Margaery's hair, but Margaery couldn't let it end too soon. She stopped and licked her lips, and said, "With Your Grace's permission, I would disrobe for you."

Daenerys looked annoyed. She nodded impatiently.

Margaery undressed slowly and when she was naked, she again knelt between the queen's legs. But before she could resume her ministrations, Daenerys spoke. "What would you do if I ordered you to allow Rakharo to take you?"

Her heart stopped for a moment, Margaery would swear it. She had not considered such a possibility. Perhaps she should have, with all the stories they tell about the queen. It did not matter. She'd do anything she had to, even allow some savage foreigner to fuck her. "I would ask if you wanted me on my back or on my hands and knees, Your Grace, and I would hope the sight of the act gave you much pleasure."

"I might order it later, but at the moment, I require your tongue between my legs."

Margaery obliged her with a few swipes of her tongue, but then she paused. "I can lie back if Your Grace would like to sit on my face."

"What do you mean?"

Margaery laid back on the expensive Myrish carpet. "Kneel astride my face, Your Grace."

She'd thought that Daenerys would face her, but when the queen straddled her head, she was facing away from her. She lowered her arse and Margaery found her nose buried in the queen's crack. It was humiliating, but she reminded herself that inflicting such humiliation on her would only heighten the queen's pleasure.

As she worked to pleasure the queen, Daenerys took hold of her nipples and twisted hard. It hurt; Margaery had never been one to mix pain with her pleasure. But this was not about her pleasure. Daenerys began to rub herself against Margaery's chin, as if impatient. Margaery had to do more. She reached around Daenerys to rub her cunt in gentle circles, as she tentatively began to lick her arsehole.

Daenerys gaspsed. Margaery thought it meant no one had ever done such a thing for her before. She licked as though her life depended on it, which it did, and soon Daenery began to moan. Her moans turned to a long, wordless cry as she came, and Margaery was covered in a sudden flood of her juices.

She'd thought that Daenerys might fuck her with her fingers, as Cersei had done to her dear friend Taena, or worse, but once Daenerys had crawled off her, she seemed to lose interest in Margaery. "You are dismissed, Lady Margaery," she said. "Take yourself from my chambers."

Margaery dressed quickly. When she went to pour water to wash the queen's juices from her face, the queen stopped her. "No, you will wear it. You may clean yourself in your quarters, but you will leave my presence looking and smelling like the whore you are."

Margaery curtsied deeply and took her leave. It was a long walk from the queen's chambers to her current accommodations, and she held her head high every step of the way, though she feared it had all been for nothing. The queen might have enjoyed herself in ways she hadn't before, but it had not warmed her to Margaery.

She was expecting the worst when she, her brothers, her parents, and her grandmother went before the Iron Throne to formally answer the charges against them. The queen's face was cold and pitiless as Lord Mace pleaded that she'd been far from Westeros when he allied himself with Robert Baratheon's heirs and so they had not been disloyal to her. Margaery could almost feel the heat of dragon's breath on her skin. She wanted to hold hands with her brothers, but she would not cower before all the eyes of the court. House Tyrell would be proud to the last.

However, their sentence was a shock. All the lords and ladies watching gasped as the queen decreed their fates. Mace Tyrell would retain Highgarden and remain lord paramount of the Reach, though some of their lands would be taken way and they were to pay a large sum of gold to the crown. Willas would remain heir, but Loras was ordered to go to the Wall and take the black. As for Margaery herself, queen to three kings, she was to stay at court as a lady-in-waiting to Daenerys. Although not a pardon, it was a generous sentence indeed.

Margaery said a silent prayer of thanks to the Seven. She might have to spend years licking the queen's arse, literally, but she was alive and so were her family. House Tyrell would rise again to greatness in time.