Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Willas Tyrell X Baratheon!Reader - Power

A/U: Tommen died before Joffrey and never came to the throne, leaving you as the oldest Baratheon to become Queen. Based on the song 'Power' by Little Mix ft. Stormzy.

"I will not remind you again to hold your tongue, Grand Maester. At the end of the day you are not irreplaceable. I may be young and I may be a woman but I am your Queen, and you will respect me as such." The old man nodded slightly, letting out a small grunt as he shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.

You continued into the room, followed closely by your mother and grandfather. "Has anyone else got any comments about my capability or lack thereof it?" you asked, your eyes scanning the room as you took your seat at the head of the table, everyone else now on their feet and shaking their heads. "Good, please be seated."

You sent a smile around the table pausing when your eyes landed back on Maester Pycelle, causing your smile to drop from your lips. "If I ever hear that you have been speaking ill of me or my family I will have your head, Grand Maester, this is your last warning." Your voice was low, just loud enough for everyone to hear your words.

You could see your mother from the corner of your eye, smiling as brightly as you had ever seen her.

"Perhaps we could get on with your first meeting of the Small Council, Your Grace?" your grandfather asked, causing you to turn your head to him with knitted brows.

"Soon. One of my Council members has yet to arrive." You could see everyone look around the room in confusion as you tapped your nails lightly against the wood of the table.

"From what I can tell, Y/N, no one is missing," your grandfather murmured with a gentle smile, one you very rarely saw in the Capital. You held up a finger to silence him when you heard slow footsteps coming down the hall towards the council's chamber.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Olenna Tyrell who was smiling sweetly in your direction as you got to your feet.

"Lady Tyrell, welcome," you started, your voice as smooth as silk as you gave her a nod.

"I'm sorry for my tardiness, Your Grace; I'm an old woman, the stairs can be troublesome," She responded as she gave a small curtsey to you.

"It is no problem," you started before turning to Mace Tyrell. "My Lord, would you find your mother a seat."

"Of course, Your Grace," he muttered, scurrying away from the table and returning quickly with a stall which he placed beside his own seat.

"We cannot have a lady of such stature sitting on such a thing; perhaps you could change seats, Lord Tyrell," you kept your voice sickeningly sweet and he nodded his agreement, pulling out the chair for his Mother.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Olenna hadn't yet stopped smiling. You had the Small council flustered to say the least.

"As lovely as it is to see Lady Olenna, may I ask what she's doing here?" your mother asked you, her voice was venomous. She had never liked the older woman, but Olenna would prove beneficial, you were sure of it.

"I thought it would be wise that I appoint someone as Master of Coin so that Lord Tyrell can focus solely on his job of Master of Ships. Lady Tyrell has a wonderful understanding of the topic and is a perfect fit for the role." Your Mother nodded slowly, looking at the table. She could not disagree with you here, you both knew it would look bad on your family and would tear down the powerful image you had worked so hard to create since coming to the Throne.

"Of course, a wise decision," your grandfather told you, breaking the silence and causing the other men to grumble in agreement. You stared around the table at the many faces.