Nothing had gone as planned.
Every deal, every word carefully spoken in order to get what she wanted, all of that gone.
Loras hadn't escaped the sentence she'd tried in any way possible to avoid; Cersei had decided to humiliate them and to assert her stature by not even showing up.
Margaery had to admit that, they had been beaten.
There was nothing to do now, nothing left to try; no more tricks, no more deals, no more pleads.
There was only one thing left to do, but for that to be possible she had to get her brother back.
That was why she was now chasing the High Septon down the hall, trying to get his attention.
"Do you want to talk to me, Your Grace?" He asked, hearing her agitated footsteps on the marble floor.
"My brother. Why aren't you returning him to us? You said that: he's free to go. And now he's been dragged away by your men. Not exactly what I would call 'free'."
"Why should he come with you? He's not part of your family anymore, he renounced to his name."
"Then why can't he just walk out as a free man?"
"He swore to serve the Seven."
"Not necessarily today. Not after you mutilated him" she spat the last part of the sentence, "You gave me your word you would've avoided that. You'd already obtained everything you wanted, why adding this?"
"I didn't obtain anything. I serve the Gods, and the Gods demand justice. It's not for me to decide in their place."
Margaery had to bite her tongue, hard, until she tasted blood. She couldn't put down the mask, make things worse for Loras. She couldn't lose her temper, not now.
"At least let me see him."
"Why should you?" The man asked with his usual frustrating half-grin.
"Because he's my brother and…"
"Not anymore."
"You can't possibly believe this. You think that a few words can break the bond of blood?"
"If his words weren't sincere it means his atonement isn't too, and there can't be mercy without atonement."
"I wasn't talking about him," she retorted quickly, "I was talking about me. He might have sworn to abandon us all, but I didn't. Loras's still my brother, even though I'm not his sister anymore."
The High Sparrow smiled condescendingly "I reckon it must be hard for a woman to let go of strong feelings developed through the years, and the Gods value family above everything."
"Then let me see him. Please." She grasped his hands, the very hands that gave the order to torture her brother, and pulled them toward her heart.
"Justice can be seen as harsh, and yet it is always fair. I understand your feelings toward Brother Loras, and yet, for Yours and his good, I can't encourage them." He took a step back, freeing his hands from hers.
She would've slapped him right in the face, but she had to think quickly.
"Don't make me break my word, please." She uttered, looking down.
"Your word?" The High Sparrow questioned.
"When we were children Loras and I used to talk a lot about our future. We made plans, drew impossible sceneries figuring dragons and talking beasts, imagined ourselves on the top of the world. We were children," she forced out a fake shy smile, "Sometimes our grasp on reality was a little stronger, so one day I promised him that he would've been the first one in our family to know when I would've been with my first child," her eyes rose to meet those of the High Septon, and this time she forced her lips to contract a little more.
"You're with child?" he asked enthusiastically.
"I am. And I would like you to educate this child," she put her hand on her stomach "He, or she - but I feel it's a boy - will have maesters and tutors for history and politics and mathematics and whatsoever, but I would like you to instruct him in the ways of the Faith." Margaery kept on that mild smile.
"It would be an honour, Your Grace."
"All I'm asking is to tell my brother. What harm could it be? He'll be happy for me, if not as a brother as a loyal subject of the Crown, and I won't break my word. If you'll be so kind to grant me this favour I could help you get the Queen Mother," she offered in a small voice, knowing she had to choose her words very carefully now if she didn't want to spoil the web of lies she'd just span.
"How?"
So he still didn't have a plan. He needed her.
"I'll convince the King to help us, I'm sure he will when I'll speak to him."
"The King already is a true follower of the Seven."
"You're right, but you're talking about his mother, a mother who still has a very firm grasp on him. When I'll disclose this happy piece of information to him, he'll listen to me and to no one else. He'll also agree to surrender his mother without a fight," the sweetness she was trying to convey in her voice scraped her throat like she was swallowing a handful of thorns.
The High Sparrow remained silent for a few seconds.
"Fine then. Tomorrow morning you can see Brother Loras and tell him of this joyous event as I try to convince the Queen Mother to listen to reason, if she won't have I'll gladly accept the help Your Grace will provide."
"That's very kind of you," her smile grew warmer and she made to the door.
"Oh, Your Grace?" the High Sparrow added before she managed to escape "May I suggest something?"
"Of course," Margaery turned around in a swirl of silk, her smile falser than ever.
"You should speak to your father. His reactions have been… quite inappropriate."
"That's exactly what I was about to do."
She left the hall before he could say anything more and strode toward the wing of the Keep reserved to her family. She had no more time to waste.
When Margaery reached the room she knew her father was into she stormed inside.
"Enough with these shenanigans," she'd just opened the door with both her hands, the crackling of the hinges still audible in the room, "I'm done with these stupid strategies. We are getting Loras out of there."
They were all staring at her. There was something different in her. That poised expression she usually wore was completely gone now, substituted by a wilderness which had always been there, carefully hidden by her deceiving skills. Now it was free, a fire in her eyes that threatened to burn them all.
"Tomorrow he'll leave that bloody place and return home. Father, you're leaving now. Order the army to pack up and leave as soon as possible, then ride toward Highgarden."
"My dear child, what are you…?" Mace Tyrell tried to interrupt her to get a piece of explanation out of her, but it wasn't the right time. Now, behind closed doors, Margaery could finally let free the wrath which had been growing inside of her in the last hours.
She'd had to keep a straight face, to seem cool on the surface, but now she could finally let go.
"Tomorrow morning I'll go get Loras and we'll leave this rotten city. A few loyal men will be with us to help us escape. The rest of our forces will be with you, already heading to Highgarden, so we'll join you on the road."
She was pacing the room, unable to stay still for a minute longer. She had to do something, anything, but standing in the same place.
"You must be joking."
"Does this look like a joke to you, father? Have you seen what they did to Loras?" She was on the verge of screaming, unable to control herself anymore.
"Of course I did, my dear, and I want nothing more than to have my son back, but this isn't our plan."
"Our marvellous plan collapsed a few hours ago when that bastard mutilated my brother in front of us," she snarled, "Go command the soldiers to break the camp and prepare to leave," she turned toward two lieutenants who immediately hopped to attention.
"Stay where you are," Mace stopped them before they could only give the impression of heading toward the door, "You can't be serious. I get you want Loras out of there as soon as possible, as do I, but we can't go home today. Nor tomorrow for that matters. Yours isn't the plan we rehearsed with your grandmother, she wouldn't be pleased."
"Grandmother's not here," she stated angrily, " I am. And what I say is that we'll get Loras out of that bloody cell tomorrow. We wanted to get him out today, have him rest for a few days before escorting him back home. We can't. The High Sparrow won't allow us. I tried to see Loras a few minutes ago and he told me he's not part of our family anymore. That canting sanctimonious hypocrite won't allow him to leave and come back to us because in his mind Loras has no reason to come back; in his mind he's one of them now. Our only chance to have him back is to act quickly."
"If you act too quickly you risk your life, Your Grace," Igon Vyrwel, the Capitan of the Tyrell's guard, tried to warn her.
"He's right, my dear. If you rush into this we're all doomed. I won't head toward Highgarden today leaving you and your brother behind. I'm your father and I won't let my daughter's rage take over."
"You are my father, but I am your Queen," she hissed "I'm not asking you to leave King's Landing, I'm demanding. You will do as you are told, and you will do it now," she stared at him so coldly the man had to take a step back, "The army leaves today with you, a few men'll stay behind with me so tomorrow we'll manage to have Loras back. You're not fine with this plan? I don't care. You'll do as you're told."
Mace was at a loss for words. That didn't even look like his daughter, that was a striking image of his mother when she was younger. He realised now that Margaery hadn't been raised by him or Alerie actually, but by Olenna, so that one day she would've been able to follow the path her grandmother'd already traced for her when she was in her crib.
The woman standing in front of him had nothing to do with that sweet child who used to play with her brother in the gardens. He could see in her eyes she would've done anything to have her brother back, it didn't matter how high the price.
Mace was silent for a few moments before finding his voice again.
"What's your plan?"
Margaery didn't even seem to relax, "You leave now with our forces, tomorrow I'll go into that bloody place with the excuse of seeing Loras. I got the permission to see him tomorrow, only tomorrow, so we'll seize the occasion. A few men'll escort me in there, so we'll be able to get Loras out, then we'll have to sneak past the doors before they give the alarm and catch us. From then on, we'll only have to reach you."
"You make it sound simple, Your Grace."
"I know it's not, but I have no other choice. The only occasion we have is tomorrow, and we have to act before my brother thinks we've definitely abandoned him. He already believes that."
"He knows you did your best, child."
"My best? What he knows is that we were there while he was being humiliated and tortured in public and we didn't even raise a single finger to help him, that's what he knows."
"That was our plan, Margaery, we couldn't…"
"But he doesn't know! He believes we've forsaken him, and he's right. We, I, should've done better. We should've found a solution way before this. So now we have no other choice. We can only go with the tide and hope for the best."
"Alright, Your Grace. We all hear what you're saying and, even though my opinion isn't worth much, I agree with you. But what we need now is a good, detailed plan, not good intentions."
"What's your advice, then?" She wasn't even addressing her father anymore. She loved him, but she knew the man was useless when it came to practical matters.
"We should send word to the soldiers now, so they'll have sufficient time to prepare as we discuss our plan."
"Do it," she ordered to the two lieutenants who'd been previously stopped.
"Then," Vyrwel went on once the door had been closed behind the backs of the two men "We must select a few loyal men and instruct them, plan the escape with them too."
"I don't want any leak, we can't involve too many people."
"A few minds work better than only two." He pointed out, "I reckon your determination, Your Grace, but you're not an expert of military strategy. We need someone who knows what we're talking about, who can bring up any glitch in our plan. This way it'll be safer for us all."
Margaery kept quiet for a few seconds, pondering what she'd just heard. She had to think quickly and she appreciated she wasn't in her right mind to do that; she would've supervised the plan then, making sure to make it the easiest possible for Loras's sake. She knew he wouldn't have been able to handle much chaos and violence, even if it came from people he's known for years.
"Fine then. Bring me the most loyal men you can find, I trust your judgement," she turned around ,"Father, you have to leave now. Go with your men, lead them home."
"I'm not leaving without you."
"We'll have to be quick tomorrow, we can't have someone who's not strictly useful with us."
"Then come with me!" He was almost pleading "I couldn't bear to lose both you and Loras in one day. Come with me, leave the plan in the hands of Capitan Vyrwel, he'll be more than able to get your brother back to you in a few hours, there's no need to risk your life too."
"I must be there. I'm the only reason we'll be allowed into that bloody place, and more importantly my brother needs me. Loras needs me to be there, he won't follow them. If he believes we've turned our backs on him he won't follow anyone but me."
"He'll want to leave whether you're there or not."
"Why leaving if he's nothing to go to? I know him, I'll have to convince him we had no other choice but doing what we did, that we don't agree with that damn beggar and his bloody followers."
"Then I'll stay too."
"And your army leaves without you? Convincing," she said, and eyebrow quirked, "You have to give the impression of giving up on me. Play as if you lost every hope of having your children back. Go away, I'll say you were so scorned after witnessing to Loras's trial you couldn't bear to stay here a minute longer."
"I'll look like a fool."
"You are a fool, father!" Margaery lost her temper. She couldn't put up with him winging about his honour when all they had to be focusing on was how to get Loras back, "They made a fool of you the moment you weren't able to protect your children from a bunch of poorly armed monks. The reason we're still alive is because I gave them a slice of what they really wanted, because I gave them the impression of letting them win at their own game, because I managed to keep my mind clear when I was locked in a cell not even knowing whether my brother was still alive or not, so I will be the one deciding how to structure our plan." She was almost trembling with rage now, not capable anymore to hold everything back. She had already done that. She'd watched speechless at that show of brutality, stayed her father's hands in front of what they were doing to her brother, now she couldn't do it anymore.
"You're going home and I'm coming back with Loras. There's no questioning this. This is the plan. You will follow it. Period."
Again, Mace could only stay silent. He had to face the fact that his daughter wouldn't have listened. Not to him, not to anyone else; she would've probably silenced Olenna too.
"Good. Now go, I'll see you tomorrow," she didn't even kiss him goodbye nor watched him as he left the room; she simply waited in silence for the men who would've helped her escape from that goddamn city. She didn't see the fine upholstery, the nicely carved table she was leaning against, her eyes kept going back to an hour before, to that man pulling a knife on her brother's forehead and carving a seven pointed star on it.
She could feel her stomach turn.
She headed for the window trying to ease her breath when a glittering on a mahogany dresser caught her eye.
She settled for letting herself being distracted by the shining little object that turned out to be a well known item to her: it was the little dagger Loras'd gifted her on the occasion of her birthday, before their arrival in King's Landing.
He knew the place, how dangerous it was and how unpredictable Joffrey could be, so he'd decided to provide her with at least that low degree of protection; he'd promised her he wouldn't have been far and that he would've intervened at any time if necessary, but at least she wouldn't have been totally armless in front of that highly likely danger.
She took the dagger in her hand; it was light, the hilt made to make the grip easier for someone not used at swinging swords or whatsoever. It was the most beautiful part of the dagger: silver, golden roses engraved in the metal, stems and thorns peppering blade and sheath as a floral rain.
She drew the weapon out of its sheath, and the blade caught the light in the process; the twinkle was strangely fascinating to her, made her stare at the fine metal with a feeling she could almost recognise as awe.
The grip on the dagger moved something in her, as if something warm and sparkly was running through her veins.
When she heard the door opening she quickly hid it in her dress, using for the first time in months that little unnoticed belt she'd had sewed in all her clothes just for that purpose.
"Your Grace," Vyrwel announced, "Here're the men I consider best for our purpose."
"Come in and close the door," she reached the table, but couldn't force herself to sit down "What's the plan?"
"Don't you ask who they are, Your Grace?" asked Vyrwel, quite surprised.
"Why should I? You know them better than I do, questioning your choice would take time, time that can otherwise be spent productively. So no, I'm not asking. Feel free to sit down," Margaery addressed the men whose stare was almost bewildered. They weren't used to that version of their queen, they'd always seen the kind smiles and warm voice, the graceful moves and the words carefully chosen to be as sweet as honey, but Margaery was done with all that.
She didn't need to win over those men's hearts, she needed their help, so no games, no tricks. She knew the situation was desperate and for only a chance of them to collaborate she needed to show strength. She couldn't be the damsel in distress, sweetly asking them to retrieve her brother from those evil monks or she would've started crying, she had to be the mind behind the dangerous plan that could've easily led them all to their doom.
She had to give a different image of herself, the image of a queen who knew what she wanted and who would've done anything, rational or irrational, fair or cruel, to get it.
"What's the plan then?"
Vyrwel briefed the men since he hadn't dared to do that outside of the room, where indiscreet ears could destroy their plan before they were even able to design it.
"It's a bit vague," one of them commented.
"That's why you're here. To help me devise a detailed plan that will get us all out of here alive."
"Your Grace, is your presence really necessary? Ser Loras is our friend, I can assure you we'll do anything in our power to get him back, there is no need for you to risk your life along us."
For the first time, Margaery smiled, "I thank you for your good intentions, but you won't be allowed inside the Sept without me. And most of all, Loras won't follow you, I have to be there."
"He knows us, he's our friend, why shouldn't he?"
"Because he needs his family now. He must hear that we're freeing him from me, or he won't believe it. I've been in those cells, I know how those goddamn monks work, but I can only imagine what they may have done to him to reduce him in such a state. I must be the one delivering the news."
"I've tried to dissuade our queen too, but I would've been more successful had I addressed the wall." Vyrwel smiled at her.
"Good, so at least we've decided I'll come with you. How do we get out of the city?"
"First of all we must understand how to get Ser Loras out of the cells, and we've no idea. Leaving the city is the least of our problems now."
Margaery stared out of the window, and when she started speaking her eyes were still fixed on the building occupied by the cells, "I'll have to go in there alone. You'll escort me to the cells, but we must wait for the High Sparrow to leave, he'll surely be a problem if he's there. Then I'll go inside and convince Loras to come with me; when we get out, we must cover our tracks. We'll bring clothes, commoners' clothes with us, so he'll be able to get rid of those rags that'll do as bait."
"A bait?"
She turned around, "They'll think we brought him to the Keep. It's the most reasonable option since Loras isn't fit to go far now, and we'll have them believe that, it'll buy us some time. One of you'll leave his clothes near the Keep, where even those fools'll be able to find them."
The soldiers stared at her. They had no idea where all those strategies came from. Their queen had never given away anything that could've led them to foreshadow a moment like that, and yet there they were, under that determined hazel eyes that demanded to me obeyed.
"Let's suppose this actually works: they'll notice sooner or later, and they'll give the alarm. By that time you and Ser Loras must be out of the city."
"They'll recognise them."
"He's right. Those fucking monks - pardon, my queen - stand guard at all the doors to leave the city. They'll recognise them escaping in no time."
"We could try to sneak out from a hidden tunnel."
"Do you know any?"
"Well, no, but we can try to find something."
"When? Tomorrow morning we are to get Ser Loras out of here, what do you think to do? Ask people in the streets if they could kindly point us a hidden way to leave the city like thieves?"
"We need a distraction," Margaery interrupted them, "Something that'll draw the guards' attention away from the door they are supposed to surveil."
"Were you already thinking about a particular diversion, Your Grace?"
"We need to create chaos. Draw attention away from us, make ourselves disappear in the crowd."
"We're not enough to fake an attack."
"No, but we are enough to start a fire," said Willam Withers, one of the few soldiers Margaery new by name and the only one who'd remained silent.
All the eyes congressed on him.
"Go on, Willam," Vyrwel prompted him.
"We separate. A few of us'll be in the near proximity of the door we'll choose for the escape. When we'll see Queen Margaery and Ser Loras getting close we'll start the fire. People'll start running, screaming, the guards'll try to stop the fire at all costs before it spreads to the wooden houses and then to the whole city, even if it means leaving the door unguarded."
They remained silent for a moment, pondering the implications of this plan. Finally, Vyrwel spoke.
"They'll know exactly where we are. The clothes' trick can buy us some time, but when they'll realise it's just a trick they'll know for sure where to find us."
"Then start many fires," Margaery said softly, "At least three doors. They'll be more distracted, and when they'll come for us their forces will be shattered. Lots of them'll remain in the city to get Cersei, the few they'll be able to spare to come get us won't know where to start."
"Your Grace, what you're saying is dangerous. The Gold Cloaks can keep one fire at bay, not three. They'll spread throughout the whole city."
"So be it."
Her eyes, her voice, were so calm they were frightening. They could see there weren't second thoughts in her now. That decision was final.
"But Your Grace, your people…"
"They can burn along with their fucking city," now her teeth were bared, a snarl of anger on her face, her voice cold, "They betrayed us. We fed them, protected them, saved them from slaughter and rape, and that's how they repay us. They didn't lift a single finger to come to our aid, they didn't even try to rescue their queen. And I'm not speaking of breaking into the cells and getting me out, but of the time they had every chance of wrestling me from those fanatics. I was standing in front of them on the steps of the Sept of Baelor and they did nothing. They did nothing to save Loras. Without him Stannis would've killed them all."
"Your Grace, we can't let so many innocents die."
"Innocents? Do you really think those people are innocent?"
"They've done nothing…"
"Because they didn't get the chance. Do you really think they would've stayed their hands in front of my brother hadn't I stepped in? Do you really think they wouldn't have stoned him to death had the High Sparrow asked them to?" Her eyes were fixed in Vyrwel's, hatred disfiguring the traits of her face, "No. They would've. Gladly," she paused, "So now let them burn."
Silence fell in the room. No one dared to speak. Not in front of that stranger.
They were silent as reality sank in. There had been a radical change in her, something that had eradicated the joyful, smiling girl to make room for the proud queen. It hadn't been her sojourn in the cells to change her, it had been something else, a line that couldn't be crossed, a line she didn't even know was there before it was crossed.
There was just one thing Margaery couldn't condone.
Her brother's suffering.
She'd never been overprotective towards Loras, knowing fully well he was more than capable of protecting himself, but now… Things had changed, now. He couldn't protect himself from those monks and their wicked mind games, he couldn't protect himself alone, cornered and unarmed.
And she couldn't see him like that.
Nor she could forgive those who'd tortured her brother in front of her own eyes.
They soldiers came to that realisation silently, and with the realisation came the absolute certainty that in that moment their queen couldn't care less for anyone who wasn't her brother.
There'd been a radical change in her, a change the monks had provoked and would've regretted deeply.
"We… we need a map, then." Vyrwel cleared his throat, trying to regain control over the situation, "We have to find the door nearest to the cells and best to allow you to rejoin the rest of the army."
The soldiers studied the papers for a few minutes before coming to the same decision.
"This is our best chance at escaping alive, Your Grace." Vyrwel pointed the picture of a gate in the map "The problem is that you'll have to swim."
"Swim?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The water isn't very deep here," his finger touched a point next to the appointed door "So it won't be really hard. It'll help to make them lose your tracks, in the scarcely likely occasion of them using dogs to hunt you down. Please, tell me you can swim."
She nodded.
She could swim, her first husband taught her.
"Good. We have a plan then: cells, streets, fire, river."
"And then? We need horses, we can't join the army on foot."
"Someone'll be waiting for you in the woods, we only need to find a place for the meeting."
"How far from the city?" She knew they couldn't jump on a horse at the base of the walls, but she was also aware of the fact Loras wouldn't have managed to go far.
"Ten miles at least," the capitan of the guards suggested, followed by the humming of agreement coming from the other soldiers.
"Ten miles?" She was astonished "How are we supposed to travel on foot for ten miles?"
"You won't have to travel that long, Your Grace. They'll hide further so they won't raise suspicions, but then they'll come to your aid, don't worry about that."
Margaery bent on the table to study the map, "Here," she pointed, "Loras told me about a hunting path in the nearby. He knows it well."
Vyrwel followed his queen's finger, "It's a good place, and if you're certain Ser Loras'll lead you in the right direction we can consider this point settled."
"He will," Margaery nodded.
"Good. I'll send word to the men who'll wait for you, then we can revise the last parts of the plan," he took his leave with a small bow. The remaining soldiers looked at her, but since she remained silent they started chattering among themselves, but immediately stopped when Vyrwel returned.
They spent the rest of the day revising the plan, studying every tiny detail, every possible mistake that could've caused the failure of their rescue, and by nightfall everyone in the room could've repeated the plan by heart.
"Your Grace, you should rest now. Tomorrow'll be a long day."
"I know. But I won't leave anything up to chance," she was sitting with the men at the table now, "We'll rehearse one more time and then you're free to go, but I'll keep revising. I still have to study the map."
"We'll all stay," Willam, the soldier who had come up with the idea of the fires reached out a hand and put it on the table, mimicking a gesture of reassurance he didn't dare to carry out completely, "We care about this too, Your Grace."
She felt like she could almost smile in that moment.
Those people in the room with her weren't simply soldiers chosen to do their duty, they were the men who'd seen Loras becoming the knight he was, who'd grown up with him. They were his friends, and now Margaery could see they would've really done their best to help him.
When sunrise ignited the morning sky with its rosy light they were all ready.
All they had to do now was to wait for the High Sparrow to leave the Sept, then their plan would've come into action.
Margaery left her empty room, all her stuff already packed and shipped home with the army, and headed for her husband's chambers.
"Tommen?" She knocked softly, motioning the two King's Guards stationing in front of the door to leave.
"Margaery?" The boy's voice was so hopeful it made her realise the lack of affection he must've suffered through the years.
"Am I disturbing you?"
"What? No, no, of course you aren't," he leaped out of the bed to greet her. The first thing he did was hugging her, but she could only answer coldly, "What's wrong?" He asked taking a step back to look at her, then he realised what he'd just said and his eyes snapped wide open, "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… How's Loras? Did you manage to see him?"
One had to wonder how such a sweet boy could've been born to a hateful bitch like Cersei.
"No need to apologise, my love. Actually I'm here to ask you a favour," she grabbed his hands and led him to sit on the bed.
"Anything," he looked up at her with pleading eyes. He still felt guilty for allowing those monks to take her and Loras, for not having been able to protect his bride as he'd sworn to do, and now he would've tried anything to make it up to her.
"If someone comes here to ask you where I am, could you be so kind, my love, to tell them I'm at prayer here, in your room, and that no one is to disturb me?"
"Why should they?"
Margaery hesitated for a moment, "That's something unimportant, no need to bother you with it," she stroked his cheek.
"What's going on?"
"Trust me, my love, you don't need to know, it's silly. Would you do that? For me?"
"I… Yes," he nodded, but his green eyes were sad.
"It's nothing to worry about, I simply need a little time for myself, to think, to deal with what happened yesterday," this time she kissed him on the forehead, and she could feel his shoulders relaxing.
"Then why all this secrecy?"
"The High Sparrow might not agree with me staying out of the Keep alone, and I really need to step away from all this chaos," she looked down, as if she were to hide her pain, "I really can't stay here, in this rooms, close to the Sept. Not now," she raised her eyes to meet his green ones, showing off the few tears she'd managed to conjure up.
Tommen tentatively reached out to comfort her, "I'll handle them. Take all the time you need, you don't have to worry about that."
"Thank you, my love," she smiled a little before getting up. She kissed him on the forehead, and she had to admit that kiss was truly heartfelt: she was about to abandon that sweet boy in the wolf den, with no one left to care about him. She was betraying her husband, the only pure hearted person in the whole city, and yet she would've done that at any moment.
What she cared about was Loras,
Tommen was… a casualty. No more than that. It wasn't personal.
When she reached the door she turned around, "Tommen? Don't let them get to your mother. You saw what they did yesterday."
And with that she closed the behind her back and her third marriage.
She knew the previous day'd spooked Tommen beyond saying, so she knew that her little piece of advice would've fuelled the boy's decision: no one in his right state of mind would've allowed their mother to undergo the same treatment which had been reserved to Loras, so now Tommen would've tried to exercise that little power he still possessed to help that monster of his mother.
There was only one thing Margaery wanted more than to see Cersei suffer, stripped of her dignity and of the skin of her forehead, and that thing was her brother's freedom. If she had to protect Cersei to gain a little time to get Loras out of the city, so be it. She would've had time for her revenge later.
Margaery silently slid in the corridors until she reached the back door, where her men were waiting for her.
"Is everything settled?"
"When they'll look for me I have a kind of an excuse."
"We can go, then."
She looked for the last time at the corridors she'd tried to call home for months and with no regrets she abandoned them first, stepping into the streets before the soldiers.
They sneaked out of the Red Keep with no one to stop them, but when they got to Sept they came to a halt in an alley; there were still too many Sparrows loitering in the proximity of the temple, so they were sure the High Sparrow was still inside. They were hiding in the shadow, and Margaery had to admit that it would've been hard to explain what they were doing there if someone were to catch sight of them.
Luckily those bastards weren't looking that way, and after what looked like hours the chief bastard exited the Sept from the very door that led to the cells.
There it was another part of her revenge walking away from her.
They would've all paid, in blood, but it would've had to wait.
They waited in the alley for a few more minutes just to be sure no one was going back, but Margaery couldn't wait anymore. She nodded to Vyrwel at her side and they crossed the street together, and eventually they reached the door.
Margaery took a deep breath. That was the time of reckoning, everything she'd worked for in the last few months was about to pay off or blow spectacularly in her face, and there was no room for any mistake.
She approached the door, now left imprudently unguarded, and knocked a few times on the splintered wood; one of the Sparrows came to open, and was a little bewildered seeing who his guest was.
"Your Grace," he bowed his head a little, not the proper way to address his queen but now she couldn't care less, "How can I help you?"
"You could be so kind to let me in," she said in a soft voice the soldiers hadn't even had the chance to hear once the previous day.
He stepped aside but was surprised to see the Tyrell's soldiers following her.
"Why aren't the King's Guards with you?"
"You just said that yourself: I'm the queen, in such perilous times the King's Guard must remain at the king's side, they would be wasted on me."
"But you're still the queen," he tried to retort.
"Indeed. But I face no danger here, am I mistaken?" she fluttered her eyelashes and the monk dropped the subject.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Your Grace? I'm afraid he High Sparrow's just left."
"What a pity. However he's warned me yesterday of this possibility, so I think he's already informed you of my desires."
"Your desires?"
"I've expressed my desire to see my brother to the High Septon, and he's agreed to the meeting. Would you mind escorting me to see him?"
"I'm not aware of the presence of your bother here, Your Grace. Or of the existence of any, frankly."
For the second time in two days she felt the urge of gouge the eyes out of a man wearing a grey robe, but she resisted it.
"I discussed this matter at length with the High Sparrow just yesterday, and he agreed to let me see… Brother Loras," she almost choked on the words.
"I should ask him myself, Your Grace, I…"
She was about to remind he was worth nothing more than the dirt under her shoes and that he would've been ripped to pieces if only she cared to snap her finger, but the appearance of another monk prevented her from doing something so reckless.
"Your Grace," the man greeted her, "I gather you're here to see Brother Loras."
"Indeed," she nodded tightly.
"If you don't mind following me," his arm swept in the direction of the dark corridor in front of them and they all moved together, queen and soldiers, ready to put their plan into action.
"Actually, Your Grace, I don't think fit the presence of…"
She interrupted him with the wave of a hand, "There's no need for their presence, you're right," she turned to face her men, who were trying to communicate with their eyes their reticence to follow that divergence from the plan. They had decided she would've been alone in Loras's cell to explain to him the delay in his release, but they would've waited outside the door to be sure nothing bad happened to them while they were still inside the Sept.
"You can wait for me here. Feel free to confess your sins to the solicitous Sparrows, I don't want to waste your time entirely during my staying and I feel you could all benefit from their pious words."
She didn't wait for them to agree, to point out that her plan was the epitome of recklessness and stupidity, she simply followed the monk. She knew it was dangerous, and yet the temptation of finally being reunited with her brother was too strong to resist it.
"The High Sparrow shared with me the jolly reason of this meeting." The Sparrow tried to open a discussion to avoid the discomfort of a silent walk, but Margaery's attention was diverted from his words since she was trying to subtly mark the corners they were turning with a small piece of chalk. The night before they had foreshadowed the possibility of a changing of location, so they came prepared; it was Willam Withers who'd suggested this chance, the same man who'd come up with the idea of the fires. The Sparrows knew Margaery was aware of the location of Loras's cell, so they would've probably provided to switch that for another one, already preparing for their retaliation. The soldier had been right.
"Well…" she tried to buy some time pretending to blush and look down.
"And please allow me to express my joy at this news, Your Grace," he stopped for a moment and Margaery made the chalk disappear up her sleeve, but he was only looking for eye-contact, "I'm a follower of the Seven, but I'm also a loyal subject of the Crown, so I'm very glad to be one of the few to have a foretaste of this happy event."
"You must know about my promise too, then."
He took the hint and finally led her to the end of the corridor. There was a door, closed, but not locked as she could witness when the Sparrow simply opened it pushing it with his hand.
He must've said something, of course, but she didn't listen. She couldn't listen.
Her whole attention was focused on the heap of rugs in the corner that was supposed to be her brother.