Sansa took Cersei's orders to heart and made a point to spend more time about the keep instead of locked away. It became almost a game to her, avoiding all those she didn't want to speak to, but making sure she was seen. She didn't know what punishment she would receive if word spread that she was still hiding in her rooms. Chella continued to shadow her silently and Sansa almost missed the older woman's company. She was determined to keep her distance though and not allow her to get close again.

Today she was reading in the gardens. It was a beautiful day and the roses around her masked the smell of the city. She had to wear a slightly thicker gown than normal, as winter was starting to cool the air. It was still warm, though and in the sun she was starting to regret her choice. She set down her book of dragons and sighed. It had been Tyrion who had encouraged her to visit the often empty library of the keep and take some books and now reading them made her think of him. He had tried to reach out to her a few times since that day last week, but she had refused all his advances. The first letter she had thrown into the fire unread. The second she had opened long enough to read the first few lines, then it had joined the first. She didn't want to read any of his assurances that his father was the one demanding the union and that he had no part in the planning. Of course he had known. Why else would he have worked so hard to get gain her trust? She was sure she must have shown him in some way that there was a chance for her to marry Loras, and he had immediately pounced on it. She cursed the day she ever thought to trust that...that IMP.

"Lady Sansa!" a gentle voice broke her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see the beautiful soon-to-be queen.

"Lady Margaery" Sansa stood with a smile and curtsied. If Sansa was cold, Margaery must have been freezing. Her bright blue gown with gold brocade left little to the imagination, with cutouts exposing her tanned skin. But Margaery looked as if the weather did not bother her in the slightest.

"Oh enough of that!" the older girl waved away Sansa's respects, smiling at her. "I'm not queen yet! And even when I am, we will be family if I am to hear correctly..." The girls words were cryptic, but when Sansa searched her face for any hidden meaning, she found none. Margaery held out her arm and led her through the gardens. "Come walk with me."

"How are you feeling, Sansa? Are you okay?"

Sansa forced herself not to cry at the girls kindness and only nodded tightly. Margaery frowned at her, pity obvious in her eyes. They walked in silence for just a moment before she spoke again.

"I remember the first time I saw you in the throne room. I'd never seen anyone who looked so unhappy..." Sansa remembered that day. Remembered how thrilled she had been at the thought that she might be free and how quickly those hopes were dashed. She would gladly take Sir Loras now if she could-despite all she had learned.

She'd rather have a husband who was not interested instead of someone who had tricked her like Tyrion had. "I want very much for you to be happy, Sansa, and so does my grandmother. You would have been happy at Highgarden. But women in our position must make the best of our circumstances." Margaery plucked a rose from a nearby bush and offered it to Sansa.

Gazing at the rose and all it would have symbolized had Sansa not been so foolish, she found herself speaking freely. "How am I to make the best of my circumstances? I am to marry him!"

"Has Lord Tyrion mistreated you? I thought you and he got along quite well." Here she reached out and touched Sansa's shoulder. "Has he been...inappropriate with you?" her eyes were wide and searching, but Sansa shook her head.

"Nothing like that..." and Margaery sighed in relief and nodded.

"So...?"

"He's a Lannister" Sansa spat.

"Far from the worst Lannister, wouldn't you say?" Margaery asked with a knowing smile. Sansa bit her lip. Of course Joffrey was worse, but she still felt hurt. Ever since the moment on the steps of Baelor when Joffrey had taken her father's head, she had known what he was. Hells, it was even before then that she had seen his true colors. Her mind fled to the moment by the Trident when he had threatened Sansa's little sister and her friend. She had known the whole time what a monster Joffrey truly was, even if she had refused to see it at first. But with Tyrion it was different. She had truly thought he was not as cruel or manipulative as the rest of his family. Which made his betrayal that much worse.

Still. Poor Margaery would suffer much more than she. "I'm sorry, here I am complaining to YOU..."

But Margaery just smiled wistfully and stared ahead. "My son will be the king." as if that would make up for all the pain she would soon see. "Sons learn from there mothers and I plan to teach mine a great deal. And your son...if I'm not mistaken, should your brother fall, your son will be the lord of Casterly Rock and Winterfell..."

Although the thought of ruling the north through her son was appealing, her mind ground to a halt at the mention of what she would have to do in order to conceive one. Not that the thought of bedding Tyrion was revolting. She would be lying if she didn't find the man somewhat attractive. She remembered a rather embarrassing dream she had a while ago that had her waking up flushed. But to be put in such a vulnerable position with someone who had betrayed her... That coupled with her insecurities about her experience versus his had her dreading the wedding night.

Margaery was still looking at her insistently and Sansa blushed. "My son...that means we'll have to..."

The girl smiled knowingly. "If it's the pain you're worried about...?" she whispered gently, offering her advice. Sansa would much rather talk to Margaery about this than Cersei.

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

"What is it then? That he's a dwarf?" Sansa bristled slightly at that, she didn't care what he looked like. She cared about what he had done to her.

"No...not that. I just..." Margaery waited patiently while Sansa wracked her brain for the right words. She doubted Margaery could have anything to say to make her feel better about how angry she was, but maybe she could help with the other problem. "He has a...reputation" she tried, causing Margaery to laugh.

"Well yes...yes he does." she giggled, causing Sansa to blush again. What would people think of her when Tyrion went back to the brothels to get the service she had no idea how to give him. But Margaery's wide smile confused her.

"And that's...that's a good thing?"

"Some women like tall men," Margaery started, "Some like short men. Some like hairy men, some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men… Pretty girls!" She winked at Sansa. "Most women don't know what they like until they've tried. And, sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we're old and grey…Lord Tyrion may surprise you. We're very complicated, you know. Pleasing us takes practice. I believe you will find quite a bit of happiness with him." She had such a naughty twinkle in her eye that Sansa couldn't help but smile.

Sansa bit her lip. "But what about him...I don't have any experience. How can I know he will not be disappointed with me?" Despite all of her anger, her pride as a woman had her determined not to fail at this.

But Margaery just smiled at her again and squeezed her hand. "Oh don't worry about that, Lady Sansa. I've seen the way he looks at you. He won't be disappointed."