Sansa was to marry Tyrion Lannister. While she should have been pleased at the prospect of marrying someone from such a high house, she was not happy about her betrothed. Tyrion was a dwarf, to put it simply. He was a drunk. He had a scar from the Battle of the Blackwater. By all accounts, he was at least a kind man, but kindness can only give so much.

The Tyrell sisters and Sansa found themselves in the gardens, something that now happened very often. They sat on a stone wall that overlooked the sea. Sansa was speaking, her voice choked with tears. "Growing up in Winterfell, all I ever wanted was to escape, to come here to the capital. See the southern knights and their painted armor and King's Landing after dark- - all the candles burning in all those windows. I'm stupid. A stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns."

Dyana held Sansa's hand, smiling sympathetically. "You're not," she whispered. "You truly aren't."

Margaery took Sansa's arm. "Come on," she said, and the three girls got to their feet. "Come walk with me."

So, they walked. Sansa was quiet, but Margaery didn't mind. She could fill the quiet. "I remember the first time I saw you in the throne room. I'd never seen anyone who looked so unhappy. I want very much for you to be happy, Sansa, so does Dyana, and so does our grandmother."

Margaery stopped, starting to pick a rose from the bushes as she continued. "You would've been happy at Highgarden. But women in our position must make the best of our circumstances."

She held an orange rose in her hands, smiling. "How do I make the best of my circumstances?" Sansa asked. "I have to marry him."

Margaery held out the rose to Sansa, who took it. "Has Lord Tyrion mistreated you?" she asked.

"No," Sansa replied.

They began walking again. "Has he been kind to you?" Margaery pressed.

"He's tried," Sansa answered.

"You don't want him, though."

"He's a Lannister."

"Far from the worst Lannister, wouldn't you say?"

Sansa paused. "I'm sorry," she said. "Here I am complaining to you..."

"My son will be king," Margaery smiled. "Sons learn from their mothers. I plan to teach mine a great deal. And your son, if I'm not mistaken, your son might be lord of Casterly Rock, and the North someday."

Sansa didn't answer. "What?" Margaery asked.

The northern girl paused as people walked by. She spoke quietly. "My son... with him. I'll have to- - we'll have to- -"

Margaery smiled. "If it's the pain you're worried about- -" she began.

"I'm not afraid of the pain. Not after what Joffrey's done to me."

"What is it, then?" Dyana asked.

Sansa looked at her as if she were stupid. Margaery laughed, speaking up. "He's rather good-looking even with the scar. Especially with the scar."

"He's a dwarf," Sansa replied. "And Loras- - Loras."

"Some women like tall men. Some like short men. Some like hairy men. Some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, pretty men, ugly men, pretty girls," Margaery said, looking pointedly at Dyana before continuing. "Most women don't know what they like until they've tried it. And, sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we're old and gray. Tyrion may surprise you. From what I've heard, he's quite experienced."

Sansa's eyes went wide. "And that's a good thing?" she asked.

"It can be," Dyana interjected. "We're very complicated, you know. Pleasing us takes practice."

"How do you two know all of this? Did your mother teach you?"

Dyana chuckled, taking Sansa's arm. "Yes, Sansa. Our mother taught us."

When their walk in the gardens was done, they stopped by the entrance. Dyana gave Margaery a pointed look, urging her leave her and Sansa be. Margaery got the message. "I'll be seeing you, Sansa," she said, smiling before leaving.

Dyana smiled at the girl before her. "It'll be all right, Sansa. Tyrion's kind. He's at least mildly good-looking. I'm sure you'll be happy."

But Dyana would not be happy. She would be the exact opposite. She didn't want to see Sansa married. It would pain her far too much. "What if I'm not happy?" Sansa asked.

Dyana lowered her head, letting out a sigh. When she raised her head again, she smiled, taking the rose from Sansa's hand. "A lovely flower," she murmured. "House Tyrell. A golden rose, growing strong."

She tucked the rose behind Sansa's ear, biting her lip. "A lovely flower for an equally, if not more so, lovely girl."

Sansa smiled slightly. "I'm lovely?"

"You're the most lovely girl I've ever met."

Sansa hesitated a moment. "Was it really your mother who taught you about those sorts of things?"

"No," Dyana replied. "Margaery and I... we learned those things ourselves. We teach ourselves them. We are not nearly as innocent as everyone in the court thinks we are."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean that I'm certainly not a maiden, and I can nearly guarantee that Margaery isn't either."

Sansa's blue eyes went wide. "Really?" she asked.

Dyana chuckled. "Yes, really. I think the first man I was ever with was a squire for my father. He was- - he was a pompous boy who thought I wished to marry him. I can't even remember his name, something Flowers, he was a bastard. He was my first kiss, too."

Sansa still seemed completely caught off guard. "Really?" she repeated. "How could you forget the name of someone that you..."

"Maidenhood is nothing, Sansa Stark. It was years ago. I was fourteen, and I never saw him again. He died."

"How did he die?"

"The poor idiot was kicked in the head by my father's horse."

Dyana's laughter seemed to make Sansa's confusion grow. Finally, she stopped laughing. She took Sansa's hands in hers. "Maidenhood is nothing," she repeated. "It is only something made up by men who don't want women to know that they're awful in bed."

Sansa chuckled at that, and Dyana smiled. "Don't worry about marrying Tyrion," the Tyrell girl said. "It will not matter in the long run, when you're lady of Casterly Rock, aunt of the king. Your son will be Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock. Your daughter will be Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock. You'll be Sansa Lannister."

But the thought of it still pained Dyana greatly. She had to push that pain away, however. Sansa was not hers to have, no matter how badly she wanted her. But that wouldn't, and couldn't stop her from doing something she'd wanted to do since she first lay eyes on Sansa Stark. "I care about your happiness," she said kindly.

She leaned forward, and kissed Sansa Stark on the lips.