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Margaery Tyrell doesn't need to be on The Bachelor. She doesn't even particularly want to be on The Bachelor. She's only on the silly show because her grandmother's new hairdresser couldn't stop talking about it, and because her grandmother is convinced that her new hairdresser is the perfect representation of Middle Westeros, a demographic that she’s always trying to conquer.
"Margaery, my dear," she had said upon returning from her latest appointment, in her best grandmama’s-about-to-give-you-a-passive-aggressive-order voice. "Have you ever heard of The Bachelor? You should be on it."
Not you should try to get on it. Not you should audition. Not even here's why you should do this. Just: you should be on it.
There is no one in the world that Margaery respects more than her grandmother, and there is no one in the world that Olenna Tyrell trusts more than her granddaughter, and so eventually the details were all worked out. The brand recognition for Olenna’s esteemed cosmetics company isn't as strong as it used to be, and it could use some fresh eyes. Margaery Tyrell, as the heiress to said company, carries a bit of clout on her own, but it would be boosted significantly by her appearance on a show that more than half the country watches, even if it’s about ten years past its cultural relevance expiration date. She wouldn’t even need to win, just last long enough for her family to be featured on the hometown dates so they could get in a tour of the factory and have a chance to advertise the down-home, family nature of the company, since that’s so popular nowadays with consumers.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Margery had assured her grandmother, and Olenna had patted her cheek and said, "of course it won't be," with the kind of utter faith that always keeps Margaery from getting too angry about her grandmother's constant manipulations about these kinds of things.
And, well. It’s not like she’s been an utter failure. Margaery is doing perfectly well so far. The Bachelor is a man she was already vaguely familiar with, though they'd never met. Jaime Lannister is a fellow trust fund kid from an old family who moved in the same kinds of circles that Margaery did when he was younger, though he’s older enough than her that they were never on the scene at the same time. Margaery is more familiar with his horrid twin than him, though apparently he has hardly spoken to his sister or his father in years, which is of course a point in his favor for the audience. A rich kid who broke away from his cruel family and has built a more modest life away from them. It’s nearly relatable. Nevermind that he’s still worth millions; the fantasy has to come from somewhere.
Not that most of Westeros will have any problem fantasizing about Jaime Lannister. He's easily the most handsome man Margaery has ever seen, and he's charming, and funny, and doesn't take anything seriously. He should be perfect for her. They should already be married at this point. And yet instead she’s floundering.
The other girls are all lovely—some more than others—but there's no one who comes close to catching his attention the way Margaery should be able to. Sansa Stark, easily the prettiest girl Margaery has ever met, is far too young, and far too sweet for him. Every wry comment sails straight over her head as she tries too hard to be as grown up and adoring as the producers want her to be. Jeyne Westerling is another contender—plain, but pretty enough, and she has a sweet smile and a way of looking earnestly interested in whatever drivel anyone is saying. It will serve her well in life, but it hasn’t done her much good in the competition so far. There's Hildy, who oozes an endearing kind of playful sexuality, and Arianne, who carries herself like a queen and has the personality to pull it off. They're all perfect in their own ways. If Margaery were Jaime, she'd be like a compass near north, trying to choose between all of them.
But Jaime is…impossible. He can't be won over. He treats the whole show like it's a joke or a farce, and every day Margaery notices the producers growing more and more annoyed while Jaime's brother Tyrion, apparently in some kind of management position on the show, flits around behind the cameras, being annoyed about it.
The girls aren't meant to notice any of that, but Margaery is Margaery, and of course she does. In between over-performed bonding sessions with the girls and obvious product placements for her grandmother's cosmetics, she snoops, and she listens, and she pays attention to the people that try to keep attention off them. The pretty girl with the broken teeth who seems to be Jaime's assistant and who obviously despairs of him whenever he interacts with one of the contestants, like she knows he can do better. The way Jaime laughs off his brother's earnest attempts at corralling him. The way he frowns into the middle distance quite attractively whenever left alone, actually brooding like some kind of Romantic hero. Margaery notices all of it. She just can’t figure out what the problem is.
"It doesn't make any sense," Sansa says. She's sobbing prettily into Margaery's shoulder after being passed up yet again for another one-on-one date with their bachelor. "He never picks me."
"Maybe he thinks you're too young," Margaery suggests.
"I'm not too young! I'm twenty!" Sansa exclaims, which Margaery smiles at. Arianne doesn't bother to hide a laugh.
"Twenty," she says. "Sweetheart, he's nearly forty. What are you even going to do with a man that old?"
"Says the twenty-three-year-old," Hildy points out. Arianne grins cheekily at her.
"Well, I have three more years of experience to give him."
"Don’t worry, Sansa. He's given you a rose every time," Jeyne says sweetly. "All of us are still here. There’s a reason for that."
"Sure there is: his contract says he can only get rid of a few of us at a time," Hildy says. The other girls all gasp as if she's said something dramatic, including Margaery, because she knows how to work a camera, and she can see the cameraman zeroing in on her out of the corner of her eye. Hildy sighs and flaps a hand, dismissing all of them. "Oh, come on. Surely you must have noticed that he hasn't made a connection with a single girl here. Usually by this point there are a few key frontrunners, but the producers have been so consistently shitty with him for a reason." She gives Margaery a kind of sly look that means she's noticed Margaery clocking the producers as much as she has.
"She's right," Margaery says. "I’ve noticed it too. We have a lot in common, Jaime and I." That's the right thing to say for the cameras, if nothing else. "But there's something holding him back. Another love, perhaps."
"He told me he doesn't date," Sansa says, still slightly sniffling.
"Well, an old girlfriend, then. Or maybe someone he wants to date."
"What about his pretty assistant?" Arianne asks. The producer behind the cameraman is gesturing for them to move on to a different conversation, because they can't use any of this, but Margaery ignores him.
"Pia?" Hildy asks. "What about her?"
"Well, she's quite pretty, aside from the teeth," Arianne says. Hildy laughs.
"He treats her like he would treat his daughter. It isn't Pia. Whoever it is…none of us have got a chance as long as she's out there somewhere."
"My dad's rich enough we could hire assassins," Arianne says, which has the girls laughing and finally, to the producer's relief, moving on to talking about Jaime's ass, since that's the kind of content they want to air.
For that week's group challenge, the girls are taken to a local gym. Not terribly uncommon in the previous seasons, which Margaery binge-watched in preparation. There's a lot of trying to get the pretty girls all mussed up and sweaty while still being sexy enough for the viewing audience. Plus there's always comedy potential with the stereotypical "girly" girls failing to do basic athletic things and making the bachelor laugh cruelly at them like that's romantic. Margaery is willing to do a lot for this show, but she refuses to give less than her best, even if failing attractively would get her noticed.
She's pulling her hair back into a ponytail when a striking woman walks in. She isn't pretty. She isn't even what Margaery would call Handsome. She has no makeup on, which makes her look particularly plain next to the expertly done contestants, and she's tall and broad-shouldered and has thickness in all the places where the other girls have curves. But Margaery has always been the type of girl who can see beauty in anybody, and there's something about this woman that catches the eye. Her muscles, maybe, which are accentuated beautifully by her tank top. Or perhaps it's her eyes. They're startling, blue and clear.
When she speaks, it's to gather all the girls to the center of the room with a firm but friendly call for attention. Margaery stands as close to her as she dares, knowing she’ll be in almost every shot. She wonders if this woman is interested in the fairer sex. If things don't work out with Jaime…
"My name is Brienne," the amazon says with an uncomfortable smile for all of the girls. "Jaime is my best friend." At this, the girls who hadn't already been impressed by Brienne perk up, understanding that their interactions with her will be important. "Jaime has entrusted me with teaching you all some swordplay for…" Brienne cuts off as Hildy and Arianne both giggle a little. She turns a blotchy red color, but quickly regains momentum. "…for a tournament he wants to hold at the Heroic Times restaurant for the second part of your challenge. Jaime wanted me to tell you…" She falters, and Margaery sees Tyrion nodding encouragingly on the other side of the room, gesturing for Brienne to say the words. Brienne swallows a grimace and says, "…that he isn't interested in playing the part of gallant knight to a wilting damsel all his life. He likes a woman who can take care of herself."
They make her deliver those final lines a few more times while the girls all pretend to be hearing them for the first time. Each time, she delivers the words like they're the most ridiculous things she's ever said, and eventually the producers just sort of give up and announce that they'll manage with what she's given them. Then it's on to the training, which is far more difficult than Margaery assumed it would be. And, yes, perhaps part of that is because she can't stop watching Brienne's muscles ripple when she swings her replica sword around to show them the moves, but also it's just difficult. She'd be despairing if she didn't notice how every other girl is facing the same problem. Brienne looks increasingly annoyed, but she's patient and kind, and she soon has them all at least passably holding their own.
It's when Jaime enters the room to give them all the official terms of the challenge that Margaery finally understands, all the pieces coming together at last. It's not necessarily the way that Jaime spots Brienne and immediately brightens up with giddy surprise. It's not the way he laughs and hugs her, ignoring her flush and her amused demands to get off her. It's not even the way he can't stop smiling at her as the producers are trying to get him to deliver his lines.
No, it's the way he says her name.
He says it constantly, over and over. Brienne, why are you here? How did they get you to agree to this, Brienne? Brienne, can you believe how ridiculous this is? I can’t believe you came to rescue me, Brienne. Margaery laughs aloud to herself, but she's the only one. Hildy looks smug and poisonous at the same time. Sansa looks halfway to devastated. Arianne looks knowing. Jeyne looks mildly dejected, which is the least happy she's ever looked on this show. Yes, it's obvious to all of them, too.
"Well that fucking explains it," Arianne seethes as they arrive back at their house that night. The cameras are still around, but the girls always let their guard down a little bit when they’re back at the house; the producers won't use even half the stuff they gather when the girls are talking amongst themselves. If this season goes the way Margaery is starting to assume it will, they'll have to use this to at least set up some backstory, so she makes sure to sit in her best light, angling herself towards the camera as she sighs longingly.
"None of us stand a chance," she says.
"Men have the most ridiculous taste," Arianne mutters.
"Oh, I don't know. She was quite something. Charming eyes. And those muscles. I can't be the only girl here who likes a strong lady."
"You aren't," Sansa confirms with a small smile. Margaery takes note of that for later.
"Well, no, but her face," Arianne continues. "She was so…plain."
"Jaime's pretty enough for both of them," Hildy points out. "Maybe that's half the appeal. Seeing how the ugly half lives."
Jeyne frowns and says, "they're best friends."
"Oh, sweetie, you can't tell me you didn't notice…"
"No, of course I did! I'm just saying that it isn't about looks, or who's prettier, or anything. They're best friends. Isn't it obvious? It doesn't matter what she looks like. He loves her anyway."
Margaery affects another languishing sigh at that, propping her chin in her hand in a way that she knows will play well for the cameras. She pouts the same way her brother Loras always does when he doesn’t get his way.
"What I don't understand," she says gently. "Is why he's here if he's in love with her."
"Maybe she's gay," Hildy says.
"I wish, but I don't think so. The way she flushed when he hugged her. And she was looking at him as desperately as he was looking at her. No, it's obvious she's in love with him too."
Actually, Margaery isn't totally sure about that. Brienne was difficult to read, with her blank expression and her shy demeanor when she wasn't busy pummeling the other girls into shape. But that's the kind of thing that will sound good, later. It’ll sound like Margaery knew what she was talking about.
"So that doesn't answer the question." Sansa is sitting on the couch behind them, hugging a pillow to her chest. Sometimes Margaery is certain that Sansa is her only real competition here. She's so young, and she seems so naive, but the pathetic way she looks huddled on that couch can't be anything but purposeful. Well, two can play at that game. Margaery smiles at the redhead, and she moves to sit next to her, stroking her hair, trying to look as gentle and kind as possible.
“What question, my sweet?" she asks.
"Why is he here? If they're in love, then why bother with us?"
"Oh, I'm sure they don't realize that they're in love. I'm sure they think they're both just friends who care an awful lot about each other."
"Brienne knows it," Hildy decides. She gestures to her own face. She's probably the least attractive of the lot, though she does well in hiding it with cosmetics and an alluring confidence. "When you grow up less beautiful than the girls around you…well, let's just say that if Jaime Lannister was looking at me the way he looked at her, I wouldn't understand it for what it was, either. Especially not if I looked like her."
"You think she believes she's too ugly for him?" Margaery asks.
"I think she wouldn't ever assume. I think she's probably really good at writing off any potential interest in her as something else." Grinning fiercely, she says, "speaking from personal experience."
"This is bullshit," Arianne says, standing up with a flourish. "I'm going to bed. I'm not wasting my time trying to figure out if this guy is in love with someone else. Who cares? He's still in the show. He's fair game. And I came to win."
She doesn't quite look at the camera as she storms past, but it's obvious that she knows exactly how to hit her mark. Margaery just leans back and smiles to herself. Arianne is good, but she's too short-sighted. She still thinks Jaime Lannister is the prize they’re fighting for.
The challenge the next day makes it a thousand times more obvious. Brienne is styled as the strong blue knight who stands between Jaime and his suitors. Whoever wins the challenge gets a one-on-one date with him, but they have to get through Brienne, first.
None of them are expected to actually beat her. But she'll ask them questions about Jaime as they fight, and the person who gets the most right answers will be allowed to pass and claim their prize. Jaime seems more delighted by this than any other challenge they've done so far. He calls Brienne "my protector" repeatedly until she's glaring at him and telling him to shut up, though she can't hide the private grin that she flashes him every time he smiles in her direction. Like it's automatic. Unthinking.
The contestants have to dress up in flimsy armor that shows off their best assets, despite the fact that Brienne is dressed as a sexless replica of a Heroic Age knight. As they go through the moves she taught them yesterday, she rattles off questions about Jaime that start off as softballs and then slowly get more difficult. It's hard for Margaery to remember the things about Jaime that she'd memorized when she's trying to keep her footing and keep blocking—even obviously dialed back to keep from decimating the girls, Brienne's powerful, and her blows make quite an impact.
Hildy goes down almost immediately, having learned almost nothing about Jaime in the short time they've spent together. Sansa is the worst with the fighting, but she answers Brienne's questions with the steely determination of a child who stayed up all night studying and now knows just enough to get a passing grade. She misses a few of the harder questions, though, and seems entirely confused when Brienne asks her for her opinion about something to see if it lines up with Jaime’s. Sansa may be good at playing the game, but she's not that good.
Jeyne and Arianne hardly put in any showing at all, so Margaery isn't as pleased with her victory as she could be. She answers the softball questions with good humor, and though she knows that her views don't entirely line up with Jaime on a few of the important questions, she thinks that her answers were thoughtful enough that Brienne liked them. Her fighting is fairly woeful, but she doesn't eat shit too much during the demonstration, so she's not at all surprised when Brienne declares her the winner.
Brienne looks back over her shoulder at Jaime, who's sitting on some kind of cheesy foam core throne, with a crown on his head. His cocky smile starts to fade when Brienne meets his eyes, and it continues to dim when she clears her throat, and when she announces Margaery as her choice for the best candidate. Margaery watches the way his face falls, the way he seems to stammer, looking for the right words. They'll edit it all out later, and they'll use the moment he finally recovers and thanks Brienne in a wry voice for her assistance. They'll focus on the two friends laughing together, and not on the moment that came just before it, when both of them looked miserable.
"What are you smiling about?" Arianne asks, noticing Margaery’s look. "You have to go on a date with him now, knowing it’s doomed to fail.”
“That depends on your definition of failure,” Margaery replies.
The one-on-one date starts out charmingly. In deference to the nature of the challenge, they go first to a museum and then to a candlelit dinner. This close to the end of the season, it's expected that the one-on-one dates will be given to the girls who are the front-runners, so the romance is really hyped up. Margaery enjoys herself at the museum well enough, though it's less romance and more fun excursion with a man she barely knows, which furthers her suspicions. Any other Bachelor would use this moment to deliver a few trite clichés about how he really feels a connection, at least for the benefit of the cameras. But Jaime delights in explaining the different pieces of art to her. Brienne's name, not surprisingly, peppers the conversation. Brienne told me. According to Brienne. Like Brienne always says.
Margaery waits until the dinner for maximum impact. She sips at her wine and asks him about a piece that she noticed was a particular favorite. A painting of a female knight from eons ago, with a glowing blue sword.
"She looked quite a bit like Brienne," she says. An innocent comment by any estimation, but lobbed like a particularly effective bomb. Jaime brightens up, leaning across the table.
"I told her that, years ago. She thought I was making fun of her."
"And yet you became best friends anyway. That's quite inspiring. Tell me more about her."
She tilts her head to one side, catching the light. She can see that Tyrion has his head firmly in his hands.
The only appropriate word for what Jaime does then is regaling. He regales Margaery with tales of Brienne's honor and kindness and strength. He talks about meeting her and not getting along with her and slowly coming to understand and respect her. He talks about their shared experiences that made them stronger friends than enemies, and he talks about the first time he saw her throw a man clean over her shoulder during a fight. He forgets himself as he talks, forgets to be polished and sarcastic and Jaime Lannister, turning instead to an earnest, nearly lovable man talking about a woman he clearly adores. Like this, he's more Loras than anything else, and it makes Margaery like him for the first time. The producers are resorting to increasingly desperate charades to try and tell Jaime to wrap it up. Tyrion is glaring at Margaery like he knows. Jaime is utterly oblivious. Margaery hopes that the cameras are getting good close-ups of his starry eyed expression, because they're going to need them.
She leans forward, catching Jaime’s eye, and he stops talking, going endearingly red beneath her gaze.
"I'm talking too much," he guesses with a wide smile that pretends at innocence and smarminess both, hiding his embarrassment.
"Not at all," she says, in exactly the way she should. Sympathetic and just a bit sad. She looks down at her untouched food on her plate before peeking up at him through her long lashes. She can just imagine how this is going to play out on camera. How delighted Olenna is going to be. So much better than just a tour of the factory. I know you’ll agree, grandmama. "But I do have one question for you."
"Of course," Jaime says. Tyrion is shaking his head.
"Why did you agree to do this show when you're so obviously in love with your best friend?"
Her question is met with a minor outcry from the producers, who are stopped from ending the scene only by Tyrion's arresting presence, the way he holds his hand up for silence, the way he clearly wants this to play out. He has finally caught up with Margaery’s intentions. She can see the way his smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Disbelieving but impressed. Her favorite combination of expressions when directed her way.
Jaime, on the other hand, reacts with stunned silence. He stares at her, mouth half-open as if to reflexively deny. His blonde hair has fallen fetchingly over his face a bit, and he doesn't bother to rake it back, his chest heaving with indignation to be so called out. Oh yes, this will play perfectly. She smiles softly at him, and she does him the favor, tucking his hair behind his ear, her fingertips lingering against his jaw as if to say a final goodbye to the imaginary dream wedding that the viewers at home will no doubt assume she is now mourning.
"It's okay," she says. "I've known for a while."
Jaime rears back, sitting up straighter. He looks to Tyrion for help, but Tyrion just stares back impassively.
"I'm," Jaime says. "I'm not."
"Oh, Jaime," Margaery sighs. "It's all right. Honestly. We were all talking about it, you know. Back at the house. How none of us felt like we could really catch your attention. Some of us even assumed that there must be some other woman who'd caught your eye, but we never expected Brienne."
"Don't," he warns, his gaze suddenly fiery. She knows he isn't playing the game, not the way she is, but he's nailing all the right cues anyway.
"Don't misunderstand me, Jaime," she hastens to say. "I think she's absolutely wonderful." She laughs a little, like she's overwhelmed with emotions. "I was so confused, before. All the women you've already sent home. All the women who are left. Jaime, I've been mad with jealousy. The idea of you being hand-fed these gorgeous women who want nothing more than your attention, and yet you couldn't be less interested in everything they want to give you. But the second I saw the look on your face when you walked in the room and saw her, I understood. You can't fake that kind of adoration. And you can't fake the way she was looking back at you, either." When Jaime looks at her, this pathetic kind of hope in his expression, she sighs with a resigned grace that will have the tabloids singing her praises when all this airs. "Jaime, I know I don't have a chance at capturing your heart, but I'd like at least to think that you can trust me. As your friend." She reaches across the table and touches his hand. Gently, kindly. "Talk to me," she says. "I hate to see you resigning yourself to a life without the woman you love."
Jaime still seems mostly confused, his posture defensive, almost curled in on himself even while his prep school upbringing battles for dominance, straightening out his spine. He's tense, irritated, looking at her as if she has asked something impossible of him.
"She's my best friend," he says, strangled.
"Yes, of course she is. And that's a beautiful bond. But you're in love with her, too."
His expression crumbles. Slowly, at first, and then like a wave has passed over it. He shows so much on his face now that she knows exactly what to say to make him show it. He is at turns angry, devastated, and confused.
It's a shame, really. She probably could have enjoyed a life with him, if they were some other people.
"It's all right," she says. "It is. I'm…" She blinks away tears that appear on cue behind her eyelids, and Tyrion is now looking up at the heavens in what appears to be some kind of rapt gratitude to the gods for delivering her to him. "I'm sorry. I just…I care for you a lot. I do. I never thought I’d be one of those girls who fell so quickly. I thought I could have loved you, but now I understand what was missing. It's her, isn't it? Of course it is. I just…why? I just want to know. Why come on the show at all if you had no intentions of choosing one of us?"
He looks quite guilty now, because of course he believes her. Unlike she and his brother, who see opportunity, he sees only a heartbroken girl that he has injured. He might not have any respect for the game, but he understands that sometimes these girls do get wrapped up in the fantasy of it. He assumes she must be one of them. Fancying herself in love with him after what amounts to a few conversations.
"I thought…" he starts. Hesitates. Seems to sag, like he has held all of this in for so long and now can no longer bear it. "She started dating. Going out with this guy. I acted like a jealous asshole, and she didn’t speak to me for weeks. It's what I deserved. I've never been good enough for her, and I acted horribly towards him. When they broke up, I felt like…it was my fault, at least a little. And when she asked me why, I couldn't even come up with a good reason. My brother had the idea of getting me on this show. Showing me what else is out there. I've been hung up on her for so long, I just…I stopped looking." He cringes back, glares at the cameras. "You can't use any of that, Tyrion."
Margaery leans across the table and plucks his mic pack out of his shirt. As he stares and the producers riot, she looks pointedly at the camera and does the same to hers, turning both off. People love a mystery. They will be ravenous to know what she’s about to say to him. She turns her head away so that the audience can't read her lips. She takes both of Jaime's hands in hers, and she looks at him imploringly.
"I know I may seem all confidence, but it took me a long time to get here." Absolutely not true. "Take it from me: girls like me and Brienne can't pick up on those kinds of cues. We always assume that we’re wrong. It's safer to think that there’s no hope, that you're reading into things. Whatever you think she feels... I've seen it in her expression, Jaime. I stood against her for you, remember. And when she declared me the winner…how could you not see how resigned she was to the thought of losing you? She thinks this is what you need to make you happy, and you think this is what you need to make you happy, but you're both wrong."
"You can't know that," Jaime says. Margaery smiles.
"I don't," she says. "But I believe it. And what's better? Assuming and throwing your next few years away on one of us girls you aren't in love with? Or taking a chance and telling the woman you love how you feel?"
Jaime wavers. She can tell how difficult it is for him, the idea of telling Brienne how he feels. It's one of those things where it becomes easier and easier to shove everything down, to the point where revealing the truth is literally unthinkable. She understands it well. That's probably why it's so easy to exploit. Finally, he nods, and he squeezes her hands in return.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't be," she says. "I'll cry a bit, but that's only for the cameras. Don't worry." She winks at him, and he laughs, and he pulls her into a half-hearted hug before jumping up and heading over to Tyrion. Margaery doesn't hear exactly what he says, but she gets the idea: he's going to find Brienne.
She sits in her chair, alone, pretending to hold back her tears. Pretending to smile through them. Pretending at rueful and sad but ultimately content that she did the right thing. The camera lingers on her long after Jaime is gone.
Months later, she watches the aftermath as it airs. The second-to-last episode of the season. The camera's frantic chase of Jaime through the city streets. Tyrion's barked-out orders. Jaime's mic was still MIA, so they didn't get any of the tearful confession or the dramatic speech that they caught glimpses of through the window of Brienne's flat, but the kiss is plain enough. Margaery can practically hear thousands of viewers gasping in romantic awe. She scrolls through her Twitter feed and grins wider, sipping her champagne as she reads tweet after tweet calling her an angel, a trooper, a real sweetheart. Later in the episode, there will be a long conversation between she and Jaime where they both will be painted in as brilliant a light as they can be, and Jaime will no-doubt sing her praises to the cameraman. His pieces will be earnest and heartfelt, because that's how he is. He never needed any coaching for that. Her own will be slightly wistful, slightly sad that she didn't meet the man of her dreams. The following episode will be all about what Jaime and Brienne have been up to in the aftermath, and at the end will be the reunion show and the announcement.
"I have to know," Tyrion says on the other side of the office, holding his own glass of champagne and smiling over at her. "Did you plan this going in? Or are you just very good at improvising?"
Margaery smiles, and she looks down at the contract she came here to sign, agreeing to be the first ever bisexual Bachelorette. Twenty-six contestants, a mix of genders. A first for the franchise, and something that will garner a lot more attention than the show has gotten for years.
Sponsored, at least in part, by Highgarden Cosmetics.
"I don't know what you’re talking about, Tyrion," she answers.
Her grandmother is going to love it.