"And when a Tyrell farts it smells like a rose." Lady Olenna spoke, her hands clasped together and despite the older woman speaking so freely and openly Sansa couldn't help but feel her own speech quivering as she bowed her head in silence.
It was unsettling. Speaking about Joffrey in such a casual manner had Sansa nervous and for good reason. For so long her hatred of Joffrey had been trapped and confined inside her own mind, her thoughts consumed by bitter hatred and fear.
How could she possibly tell Lady Olenna and Margaery the truth about the their King.. He had his men humiliate her, had her brutalized and beaten for his own sick pleasure. Did they want to know how he had taken her to the top of the castle and forced her to stare at the once handsome and joy filled man she called father. Her father who had been left a lifeless head sitting upon a spike, rotting out in the open for all of King's Landing to view until the birds took what they desired from his festering wounds. To this day the memory haunted her dreams and made her reality a living nightmare... On the rare occasion she could still feel the sting of the slap upon her cheek, but once seeing the lack of swelling and redness she was once again reminded that it happened long ago.
"But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart? A gentle hand?" Lady Olenna continued, her words soft but genuinely curious, yet at the same time Sansa felt as if she were being pushed and prodded.
They simply had to have heard stories from High Garden, Joffrey's actions and casualities were no secret. Her father's face appeared in her mind leaving Sansa to take a deep breath, her eyes now darting from one woman to the other. She had a choice and each with consequences should she continue to tell a lie or spill the truth? Would they really believe her if she preached how their King was incredibly intelligent, that his heart so large that his chest could barely contain it, that he would never lay a hand on Margaery. Those would be horrendous lies. She would be painting a picture of Joffrey as a man of sweet kind nature that would never truly exist.
"I'm to be his wife, I only want to know what that means." Margaery added lightly, her large brown eyes looking to Sansa's and breaking the red head's thoughts.
Margaery was seeking out answers about her betrothed as she should but Sansa could only stare in return. Her lips were slightly ajar in an attempt to find words but her throat felt like bundled up cotton, her tongue almost swollen and it was a struggle to swallow.
Quick paced steps rushed to their table, giving Sansa a moment to collect what was remaining of her thoughts as Olenna asked the boy for cheese. Hearing the exchange of murmurs Sansa glanced over to Margaery. The brunette took took notice of Sansa's gaze and gave her a comforting smile. After a few moments the boy rushed off, leaving the three women alone once more and with this Sansa reached for her cup, raising it and taking a swallow of sweet tea to clear the dryness and nervousness in her throat.
"Are you frightened child? No need for that, we're only women here. Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you."
"My father always told the truth." Sansa admitted, trying to force the image of her father's lifeless face from her mind.
"Yes, he had that reputation, and they named him traitor and took his head."
Sansa could feel a fire unleashed, her anger bubbling over. Before she knew it the words just fell from her lips.
"Joffrey… Joffrey did that. He promised he would be merciful and he cut my father's head off and he said that was mercy. And he took me up to on the walls and made me look at it." Sansa finally answered, her voice thick with emotion and her once bright piercing green eyes were now dull, filling with tears with each word.
"Go on." Margaery encouraged Sansa, her tone not as firm as her grandmothers but it wasn't enough to stall the her quickening thoughts of regret from stirring in her head.
Sansa wanted to slap herself, again and again. Why was she admitting this? If Joffrey found out…
"I-I-I can't-I never mean't…My father was a traitor, my brother as well, I-I have traitors blood. Please don't make me say anymore."
"She's terrified grandmother, just look at her." Margaery spoke, her voice soft and sympathetic.
"Speak freely child, we would never betray your confidence. I swear it." Olenna assured.
"He's a monster…"
"Huh… That's a pity." Lady Olenna sighed, glancing to her granddaughter who raised her delicate eyebrows for a moment before slipping a bit of crumbly sweetbread between her lips, her expression unreadable.
Why weren't the two more shocked at hearing this news? Margaery's husband, the king of the Seven Kingdoms was a cold blooded monster who took pleasure at the pain and suffering of others. Surely Margaery would not have interest perusing after acknowledging this. This couldn't affect Sansa, what would happen if the wedding were to be disrupted, or cancelled?
She had revealed far too much.
"Please don't stop the wedding." Sansa begged, her tears threatening to spill at any given moment.
"Have no fear, the lord oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery should be Queen. Even so we thank you for the truth." Olenna spoke, unobservant of her granddaughters smile, yet the same as earlier there was something strange about it. It wasn't a pleased smile.
"Aah, here comes my cheese."
Walking from soft hushed voices of Olenna's handmaidens Sansa stepped down the stone path, ignoring the lingering stares by a couple on a bench and the watchful gaurds she turned down a separate pathway, unknowing of the follower behind her and the quiet steps behind her. The young woman soon found herself surrounded by hedges, a graceful stone fountain, two benches and a calming silence. Sansa felt the familiar heat of her tears, rising and trickling down her cool porcelain cheeks.
Every day she thought of her father's death. Every. Single. Day.
She could once remember thinking that Joffrey would show a king's mercy. He would allow her father to confess his crime and live. Why did he feel the need to kill her father? Was he that empty, without a soul or heart?
Joffrey's mother was protective of her son but had that contributed into his downfall? Maybe it was from his father Robert having spent more time hunting and drinking his fill of ale and wine instead of giving his son council. Thinking back Sansa could even once thinking that Cersei would be her mother in law. It's almost funny thinking about it now, how Cersei had once asked for Sansa to sew her a beautiful dress to wear. Now all Sansa wished to do was tie her into that dress oh so tightly. She would draw the strings tighter and tighter until Cersei couldn't breath and her face turned red and blue, until she would take her final breath. Maybe then Joffrey would feel the same pain that she did when he had killed her father.
Sansa just stared at the fountain, watching the water sparkle and ripple as a tear fell from her chin into the water.
"Sansa?"
Turning abruptly Sansa's green eyes widened as she found herself staring at a concerned looking Margaery. "I-I'm sorry, I must look so foolish." Sansa apologized breathlessly, turning and brushing away her tears with the back of her hand.
"I came to apologize… I can't imagine how difficult times have been for you, and your father…" Margaery paused, her eyes showing sadness. "I am so sorry. I can't imagine what you've gone through." Her gaze lowered for several quiet moments. "
Slowly the thick haired brunette stepped forward, causing Sansa to turn.
The redhead suddenly felt so vulnerable, her eyes puffy and bloodshot but even in the silence Sansa felt comfortable, at least more comfortable than their chat only several minutes earlier.
"Please know It was not our intention to cause you any harm." She apologized, her eyes finding Sansa's before continuing, "I had thought you would tell me the truth… And you did." Margaery gave Sansa a soft smile, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you Sansa. I know the circumstances seem so strange but If I can help you in any way please come to me."
It was a small sentiment, but none the less an appreciated one. In a short Margaery would be the Queen and did not owe Sansa any favors. It was a rarity for Sansa to have someone treating her with true kindness, or at least to do so without motive. What would Margaery have to gain by speaking with her now?
"Is getting me as far away from King's Landing as possible out of question?" Sansa asked with a weak attempt of a smile and Margaery chuckled at her joke, returning with her own bright smile.
"I was thinking more along the lines of braiding your hair or getting advice on your dress…" Margaery replied with playful smile and Sansa laughed … For the first time in a long time.