Margaery had seemed to figure out Dyana's attractions for Sansa. Which was why the elder Tyrell sister demanded that Dyana join her to visit Sansa once more in the gardens. Margaery was smart when she had to be, and she knew that Sansa would willingly speak to them both. Dyana's presence would make her sing like a little bird.

So, even despite her arguing, Dyana found herself walking through the gardens with Margaery. They found Sansa praying. Margaery cleared her throat, and Sansa reacted quickly, getting to her feet. "We didn't mean to disturb you," Margaery said.

"You haven't," Sansa replied.

Margaery smiled, looking at the two guards that stood on either side of her. "We'd like some privacy, please. If you wouldn't mind waiting back inside the keep," she said.

They did not move.

Her smile faded. "Or if you'd be kind enough to give me your names, I'll ask the king to speak with you himself."

They reacted fast, hurrying away.

Margaery took Dyana by the arm, and the pair stepped up to Sansa, who smiled. "What did you pray for?" Margaery asked with a grin.

"I can't tell you," Sansa replied.

"Why not? I'll tell you what I prayed for in the sept this morning."

Margaery took Sansa's arm, and the three girls began walking as Margaery listed her prayers. "Let's see, for my family's health and happiness, for an end to the war, for a short winter. Boring and traditional, I'm afraid. And you?"

"I'm sorry," Sansa said, "I just can't."

As they walked, their conversations varied wildly. Margaery did most of the talking, though she didn't seem to mind. "Dyana and I's cousin Alanna was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. When I was twelve, I was all elbows and knees and Alanna looked like a goddess sent to torture me. Pig-face she called me."

Sansa laughed. "Pig-face? That's ridiculous."

Margaery chuckled. "I think it had something to do with my nose. Whenever she passed me in the halls, she'd oink."

"Pig-face?" Dyana spoke up. "That's not very bad at all! Alanna called me goat-girl. I think it had something to do with the way I ate, to be honest."

The sisters laughed, and Sansa joined in. Margaery spoke again. "Nonetheless, I prayed that she'd catch a horrible skin disease. A week later she came down with porridge plague."

Sansa stopped, her eyebrows furrowed. "Porridge plague?" she asked.

Dyana joined in on the joke. "Oh, you don't have it in the North?" she asked. "Your skin starts looking like it's boiled oats. Eventually your face slides off and you die in agony."

The blue eyes went wide. "But that's awful."

Dyana and Margaery both nodded, but quickly broke out into laughter.

Sansa scoffed. "You're both- - I believed you!" she cried. "Porridge plague. I'm an idiot."

"Oh, don't say that," Dyana said. "You're not."

"So what really did happen to Alanna?"

Margaery answered. "Oh, she grew up to be the most beautiful woman and married a handsome lord and they have darling children and live in a castle by the sea. It's all terribly frustrating."

Sansa offered her a smile. "I'm sure she's jealous of you now. You'll be married here in the capital and she'll have to come watch and pretend to be happy that you're queen."

The three laughed again. Margaery took Sansa's hands. "I want us to be friends," she said, "good friends."

"That would make me very happy," Sansa replied.

"You must see Highgarden," Dyana spoke up. "You would absolutely love it there, I know you would. We have a masquerade the night of the harvest moon. You should see all of the costumes. People will work on them for months on end."

Sansa lowered her head before she answered. "I- - I don't think the queen would let me leave King's Landing."

"The Queen Regent, you mean," Margaery corrected. "Once I marry Joffrey, I'll be queen. And if you were to marry Loras..."

Sansa smiled, and Margaery continued. "Oh, your place would be at Highgarden, wouldn't it? We'd all be sister, you, Dyana, and I. Would you like that?"

Dyana wouldn't. But she saw the joy in Sansa's eyes as she smiled and nodded, her lips quivering with tears of joy.

Sansa, Margaery, and Dyana began spending more time together. This morning, the three were watching Loras spar. "He's such a splendid fighter," Sansa smiled, looking at Margaery and Dyana. "Do you have any idea when we might..."

Margaery chuckled. "I'll plant the seed as soon as Joffrey and I are married. It should grow quickly."

"Joffrey won't let me leave. He's got too many reasons to keep me here."

"And only one to let you go. Because it will please me."

"Squire!" Loras called.

A young man hurried to his side, holding out a cup. Loras took the cup as the squire began to help him out of his armor. Dyana noted the way that Loras was staring at the squire, and she smiled, leaning to whisper to Margaery. "Seems like Loras has found someone else to keep his interest."

Margaery shoved her lightly, chuckling. "What is it?" Sansa asked.

Dyana only offered her a smile. "Family talk. I'm afraid you haven't quite joined the ranks just yet."

Sansa smiled as well. "Yet," she said.

"Yes," Dyana said to herself. "Yet."

She couldn't help but feel disappointed. Sansa was marrying Loras. She adored Loras, though he was so handsome, so perfect. What would she think if Dyana told her that Loras would rather be with the squire that was still talking to him?

Dyana sighed, smoothing her hands over her skirt. She closed her eyes.

Sansa Stark was going to be the death of her.