Ever since her lunch with Lady Olenna and Margaery, it seemed as if the whole group from Highgarden wanted to spend time with her. Weeks had gone by before without anyone calling on her, but now she struggled to fulfill all the invitations. Tea with this Reach lady, sewing with that one... It was honestly relatively exhausting. Sansa hadn't even been able to visit with Tyrion much. She had seen him in passing, but with her new active social life and his increasingly diminished place at court, they rarely saw each other.
Sansa thought it unfair how everyone seemed to have forgotten Tyrion's contribution during the battle. Lord Tywin had immediately stepped into his role as Hand and the Tyrell's had received all other credit for the victory. Poor Tyrion was thought of with indifference at best and scorn at worst. It was as if they blamed him for everything that Joffrey's cruelty and ineptitude had brought about. It clearly had an effect on the man and Sansa pitied him. All she could do was to constantly tell him of her own gratitude and to sing his praises to any who would listen, however unenthusiastic the recipient. It was the least he deserved from her. She owed him so much.
Her feelings towards Tyrion confused her. She had finally gotten over his last name, but she was still surprised to feel so comfortable around someone who's entire family she hated and who had betrayed her again and again. And that wasn't even accounting for his face. She had been genuinely confused the other day during her walk with Sir Loras that she couldn't stop thinking about the dwarf. She had been so enthralled with the handsome knight for months, but she had found herself wishing she was conversing with her little lordly friend instead. Loras had been so uninterested in talking with her, and their conversation had been stilted, unlike the hours she had spent with Tyrion. Sansa's taste sure was changing. Hells, just a few months ago she had wanted so desperately to marry Joffrey. She shuddered at the thought and a memory flashed through her mind.
"I'm sending you both back to Winterfell" Her father's words were like a knife in her heart as she leapt from the chair.
"What?! You...you can't!" her voice was shrill as panic set in.
Her father raised his arms in an effort to calm her "Just listen-"
"What about Joffrey? What about our betrothal?"
Arya had shoved her elbow into her side, trying to get her to stop screaming. "Are you dying because of your leg? Is that why you're sending us home?" Her words made Sansa stop, momentarily forgetting her own tragedy, and survey her father, looking for signs that his injury might be fatal.
"What? No."
"Please father! Please, don't!" Now that she knew he wasn't dying, there was no reason for her to go.
For once, Arya seemed to agree with her. "You can't, father! I've got my lessons with Syrio! I'm finally getting good..."
"This isn't a punishment!" Her father seemed to be at wits end, but who cared. Sansa and Joffrey had just made up from their fight on the Kings Road. He had gifted her a beautiful, golden locket and had even kissed her! They were in love. She couldn't leave now! "I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety." That did not make sense. Sansa was going to be the QUEEN! Why would she be in danger at court?
"Can't we take Syrio back with us?" Arya asked hopefully, obviously not caring whether or not they stayed. Not caring about her sister's happiness, which was crumbling with every word her father said.
"Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher" She snapped. "I can't go! I'm to marry Prince Joffrey. I love him and I'm meant to be his queen and have his babies!"
Arya grimaced "Seven hells..."
Her father looked equally disconcerted, but took her hand gently, clearly trying to soothe her. "When you're old enough, I'll make you a match with someone who's brave and gentle and strong-" but Sansa did not care. No other match would make her a queen. No other match would be as perfect as Joffrey.
"I don't want someone brave and gentle and strong, I want him! He'll be the greatest king that ever was, a golden lion, and I'll give him sons with beautiful blonde hair!"
Looking back, she was embarrassed by her words. How silly and foolish and naive she had been, so determined to be queen. If only she had known what she did now, she would have run as fast as she could back home. She would still have her father and her little sister. She wouldn't have had to go through the torment or the beatings...She had been so clueless about the world and she had paid dearly for her naivity. She sighed and lifted her skirts, making her way back towards the godswoods. Thinking about home and what could have been always put her in the mood for praying among the trees.
As she made her way, she couldn't help but reminisce on her father's words. Brave and gentle and strong... She would have been so much better off if she had allowed her father the chance to find her someone like that. Someone who would have treasured her and loved her. That's all she really wanted. Even then, she didn't really care about the power of being a queen, she just wanted to be loved by all her subjects. She wondered who she would be married off to now. If Joffrey did let her go, that is. It would be just her luck to be married to some Lannister cousin that would keep her at court and be well rewarded for allowing the king to take his wife whenever he wished. Honestly, this probably would be her future. Lord Tywin would never allow her to be married into any kind of power for fear of losing the North and she doubted Joffrey would let her out of his clutches. Tears welled in her eyes at this bleak picture.
Deep in her thoughts, she had reached the edge of the water in the godswood and knelt onto the stones below. She mindlessly recited a few prayers from her childhood and tried to lose herself in the comfort the trees provided.
A small cough behind her interrupted her prayers and she whipped around. The Lady Margaery, dressed in another beautiful, revealing gown stood before her, smiling down at her.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you," she apologized as she stepped closer.
"You didn't" Sansa insisted. The older girl was always so kind to her and Sansa pitied her situation. She supposed some would be angry at being replaced as the next queen, but Sansa couldn't bring herself to be angry with Margaery.
"What'd you pray for" Margaery smiled conspiratorially, making Sansa smile.
"I can't tell you that" she teased back.
"Oh why not? I'll tell you what I prayed for in the sept this morning!" the girl took Sansa's arm and pulled her back towards the keep. "Let's see...For my family's good health, for an end to the war, for a short winter... Boring and traditional, I'm afraid. And you?"
"About the same, my lady" Sansa lied through a pretty smile.
The girls made their way down to the docks and Margaery enthralled her with a tale of some pretty Reach girl from her childhood.
"So I prayed that she catch some horrid skin disease." Margaery was saying, "About a week after that, she came down with a case of porridge plague"
"Porridge plague?" Sansa asked, confused. She had never heard of such a disease, but then again, the south was always more susceptible to diseases than the frigid north.
"You don't have it in the North?" Margaery mirrored Sansa's thoughts. "Your skin starts to look like boiled oats and eventually your face slides right off and you die in agony."
Grotesque images flooded her mind as she imagined this awful disease and she instantly prayed never to come in contact with such a horrid sickness. "Th-that's awful!" She exclaimed and Margaery nodded gravely before snorting out a laugh, clearly happy to have tricked her.
"You're-" She laughed at her own gullibility. "I believed you! Gods...porridge plague...I'm an idiot"
"Oh don't say that," Margaery laughed with her "No you're not." Sansa smiled, thinking about how Tyrion had, albeit more forcefully, told her the same thing just the other day.
"So what happened to Allana?" She asked, genuinely interested in how Margaery's childhood rival ended up.
"Oh she ended up growing to be the most beautiful woman who married some handsome lord and now they have darling children living in a castle by the sea" Margaery sighed wistfully "It's all terribly frustrating."
Sansa smiled, thinking how that must be such a perfect life. "I'm sure she's jealous of you now, though. You'll be married here in the capital and she'll have to come and watch and pretend that she's happy that you're queen." The girls giggled together at the feminine rivalry. It felt so good to relax with someone near her own age who was genuinely kind to her. Sansa's smile faded slightly though at the thought that soon this kind, beautiful girl would be married to Joffrey. Hopefully she would be able to play him better than Sansa had. She seemed to be doing better so far.
Suddenly Margaery reached out and took both Sansa's hands in hers. "I want us to be friends, you and I. Good friends" she said with another kind smile and a squeeze.
Sansa felt her eyes well with tears at Margaery's words. She knew she had a friend in Tyrion, but it wasn't the same as a girl her own age with the same interests. With Margaery by her side, Sansa wouldn't feel half as alone. Even Joffrey would hesitate with openly abusing her if she was close to his future wife. Margaery's friendship would bring something precious- safety.
"That would make me very happy." She hoped the older girl wouldn't notice the shake in her voice.
"You must see Highgarden! You'd love it there, I know you would. We have a great masquerade the night of the harvest moon. You should see the costumes, people work on them for months!" Margaery exclaimed, and for a moment, Sansa hoped to see them, before reality set in.
"I don't think the queen would let me leave King's Landing" she muttered sadly, knowing that Cersei would never let her out of her sights. Sansa was a hostage and you don't send hostages on pleasure excursions where they could escape. No, Sansa would remain behind the walls of the Red Keep until she was sold off in marriage.
"The queen regent, you mean?" Margaery asked as if confused. "Well whenever I marry Joffrey, I'll be queen." Sansa stared at her blankly before she realized what the royal wedding would really mean. Margaery would soon be in power. Perhaps she could persuade the king to allow her to leave. Cersei wouldn't be able to stop her... "And if you were to marry Loras..." Margaery continued in a low tone, "Well, your place would be in Highgarden, wouldn't it?" she finished with a bright smile.
But warning bells rang though Sansa's mind at the mention of her marriage. Traitorous or not, Sansa was a lady born to one of the most powerful families in the seven kingdoms, and Loras was the son to another. Even if Sansa was not a ward of the crown, it would be up to the king to sign off on any marriage of that caliber. Trying to arrange it in secret would be treason.
"Joffrey would never allow that to happen" She stressed.
But Margaery just shrugged and looked out over the sea. "Perhaps I'll ask it of him for a wedding present. Or my father could approach Lord Tywin. We could be sisters, wouldn't you like that?" Margaery's tone was sugary sweet as she held Sansa's hands, and the future she was describing did sound appealing, but Sansa didn't understand why she was being so cavalier. The Lannister's would not appreciate this scheming and it would be Sansa who paid the price. Still, it wouldn't help her to make an enemy of the Tyrell's either, so she bit her tongue and forced a smile to her face.
"I would like that very much." She allowed the older girl to pull her though the gardens, regaling stories of her home, but promised herself that she'd have to tread carefully among the roses.
A/N: Thank you guys for your patience with me the past few weeks. With the election and the holidays, I've found myself very distracted. I'll try to keep posting as often as possible though-I hope you all like it! It's fun to write a more aware and mature Sansa.