"Ser Garlan." Viserys's voice was calm, but its chill was unmistakable. "Daenerys and Rhaenys are my family. Their marriages are not yours to propose."
Garlan had yet to realize he had said the wrong thing. "Your Grace, I meant no offense," he explained. "We simply thought that further marriage ties would help strengthen our alliance."
Beside him, however, Margaery realized something was wrong, but it was already too late to stop Garlan.
"Alliance?" Viserys leaned forward slightly, staring straight at him. "When did I agree to that? What standing does House Tyrell have to discuss an alliance with me? Do you have dragons? Do you have an army capable of sweeping across Westeros? Or do you think the golden roses of the Reach are worth more than dragons?"
Those words hit hard. Garlan paled, fine beads of sweat forming at his temples. By now, even a fool would have realized he had misspoken. Margaery clenched her hands inside her sleeves, but her face remained composed.
She glanced at her brother and spoke. "Marriage is indeed the most common way to strengthen an alliance. My grandmother hopes I might become your queen because she wishes to bind House Tyrell to House Targaryen. Our loyalty in that regard is beyond question. As for a marriage between Loras and one of the princesses..."
She gave a faint, rueful smile. "That was more a matter of my brother being eager to show our sincerity, though we also failed to give it enough thought. Naturally, the princesses' marriages should be decided by Your Grace."
Margaery Tyrell was certainly something. At the very least, she was far quicker and more flexible on her feet than her brother.
But Viserys had no intention of letting her smooth things over so easily.
Viserys continued, "Lady Margaery, you certainly