A/N: Everyones reviews are so helpful! I genuinely appreciate every one of you who have enjoyed this story and have reviewed as it gives me so much inspiration to keep writing and putting out chapters quickly! I know this one is relatively short-but I hope you enjoy!
For the first time since her father's head had rolled down the steps of the sept of Baelor, she did not feel gripped with anxiety and fear as she was led through the Red Keep by Lannister guards. She walked with her head up, her hair brushed back over her shoulders and with a serene smile on her lips. She watched as those she passed gazed upon her in wonderment. By now, news of her attempted kidnapping had spread. The whole capitol was buzzing at how the king had been poisoned and how she had been dragged to the docks. But here she was, perfectly put together as always, making her way to where the Tyrells were being held.
She wore a gown of pale sky blue, her old dragonfly necklace clasped around her throat. She wanted to look as unassuming as possible. Like Margaery's sweet, innocent friend-not a Lannister spy. While she detested being used to achieve Lord Tywin's ends, she knew she had to talk to Margaery to satisfy her own suspicions. And if this meeting ended up fruitful, she would think long and hard on just how much information to share with the old lion. She did not mind that Joffrey lay at death's door. But she very much minded being dragged from her husband to an unknown fate. If Margaery or her grandmother had anything to do with Shae or Dontos...well...Winter had come for the wretched king. How quick would the roses wilt in the cold winds?
Sansa allowed her features to grow worried as they approached the Tyrell's chambers and when she was admitted, she glanced around fearfully before relief filled her eyes at the sight of her friend.
Margaery looked a mess. Although she had changed into a simple black gown, her hair had clearly not been washed since the feast. The curls were still pinned up, albeit messily, and her face was still streaked with old tears-though when she saw Sansa, fresh ones welled up.
"Sansa!" Margaery rushed to embrace her, clinging tightly as she wept. Unbidden, some old advice Sansa had once been given floated through her mind.
We're all liars here...and every one better than you...
How real were these tears that the Rose of Highgarden wept? How much of this was just a mummers show? But Sansa supposed she had a part to play as well, so she cooed softly, holding Margaery's shoulders as the girl cried in her embrace.
"Oh, it was horrible!" Margaery cried. "My poor prince! And no one will tell me if he is alright!"
"Has there been any news?" Came a harsh voice behind her. Sansa turned to see the queen of thorns herself, all but glaring at her. "Has the boy woken yet? If Tywin thinks he can just keep us locked away forever-"
"The Lord Hand is still investigating what has happened to King Joffrey, Lady Olenna" Sansa interrupted as softly as she dared. "I'm afraid he is keeping all the wedding guests in their chambers until the culprits can be caught and justice can be done for our sweet king." She ignored the woman's huff of annoyance and turned to Margaery, whose wailing had ceased as she listened. "Your husband has not woken quite yet, Your Grace. But he is being attended by the Grand Maester himself. He is receiving the best of care. I am sure he shall wake and you will take your place by his side." She smiled sweetly, parroting off the phrases Tyrion and his father had given her. Margaery only nodded limply, but the queen of thorns reacted in the way Tyrion predicted.
"Hardly a husband," she snorted. "All that gold gone to waste for a wedding unconsummated!"
"I'm cursed," Margaery murmured softly and Sansa could detect a hint of the truth in her mournful words. "What will become of me now? Twice wedded and twice widowed and still a maid."
Lady Olenna tutted in aggravation. "Oh stop your weeping, child. I'm sure you'll be queen yet. Or has Lord Tywin lost the need for Tyrell support?" She fixed Sansa with a leveling glance. "What say you, Lady Lannister? Does the crown still have use for our grain? For our men and our swords? The little prince will need a bride just as bad as his older brother. If the old lion would get off his arse to come speak with us, I could give this proposal to him. However he sends you in his stead." She huffed, clearly unsatisfied and tapped her fingers on the table where she sat, thinking through her next steps. She finally waved her hand dismissively and Sansa used the opportunity to guide Margaery to the window bay.
"What happened to your face?" Margaery gasped once they were in better lighting. The powder she had applied only did so much to hide the angry bruise. Sansa took note of her obvious surprise before offering the story of what had happened, paying close attention to Margaery's reactions.
The rose of Highgarden listened avidly, gasping in indignation and widening her eyes in concern at all the appropriate times. But there was something about her attentiveness that struck a cord in Sansa's mind. Sansa looked into Margaery's eyes-deep, guarded blue peering into wide, seemingly guileless brown and felt bells ringing in her head.
Sansa had been fooled by the golden prince's veneer of chivalry that had shielded cruelty and madness.
She had been fooled by the Hound's fearsome scars that had hidden a wounded honor.
But she had learned. It had been a hard lesson-one that had to be practically beaten into her. But she had learned. And she was not fooled by the Roses show of innocence.