She had grown to hate the morning look in the mirror. Before it had been a time of smiles and laughter, sometimes forced in the darker days, but mostly joyous. She would discuss her schedule for the day with her handmaidens and cousins, pick out the best colours for her dresses and lips. Now it was about cover up. She'd sustained a bruise on her left cheek that hadn't faded yet and for the first few days it had taken so much rougeing to cover it up she looked like a mottled jester. But leaving the bruise exposed had been even worse, so she walked through the keep like a clown and everyone stared. Cersei hadn't tried to hide her snigger, while the rest of the council had been far more respectful, especially Lord Tyrion. She hadn't dared show herself in front of Joffrey since he had greeted her return. The bruise was fading now, thank the gods, but it was still there, and Margaery wondered if she would still see it even when it had faded entirely. And it wasn't the only injury visible to the outside. More bruises and welts covered her forearms, so all her dresses were long sleeved at the moment, and her neck bore the chafing red sores of the sack pulled tightly over her head. Her hair had to be trimmed shorted to make nice the damage that had been done to it. All she saw now was what had been done to her.

She didn't have to say anymore, but her handmaidens hurried with their work so she wouldn't have to look for much longer. No matter her injuries and bruises, she had work to do.

The knock at her door was firm and even. Margaery kept her voice the same way as she called for the knocker to enter her solar.

Captain Gilbert entered the room and bowed low. Was he averting his eyes from her face? Perhaps, she wouldn't dwell on it. "Captain Gilbert," she gestured for him to stand before her. "I need an update on your investigation."

"I've been trying my best to find any evidence about who took you, my lady," Gilbert replied.

"And?"

Gilbert shuffled uncomfortably. "I fear there is little evidence left to find. All of it would have been in what was Flea Bottom."

"We made you a captain of the city watch. I was taken not far from your very post. You should be able to find something? Or are you not worthy of the post? Give the word and I'll have you returned to the battle line."

"My lady, we are trying," Gilbert insisted.

"What about my evidence, what I told you?"

"We've tried to find some accurate maps of Flea Bottom to try and work out where you were kept, but most of the maps are poor. The city watch never extensively walked the beat of Flea Bottom, and the slum ran itself in many ways. Buildings changed hands time and again. We think we've identified on some of our older maps where you were when we found you, but depending on which map you look at it was either a distillery, an abattoir or a tannery, owned by different people only recorded by first name, likely because they only had the one. I'm afraid there's no real hope of finding out more now that the place has been consumed by fire."

"What about the people who took me?"

"You said they wore masks, my lady," Gilbert replied.

"Yes, and I told you what I could identify."

"My lady," Gilbert shuffled awkwardly.

"Speak."

"A bloody butcher's cleaver isn't enough to hunt someone down. Nor is someone whose wife slept with an unidentified Tyrell knight."

Margaery gripped the arms of her chair tightly. "So you have nothing."

"I fear not, my lady."

"What about your men?"

That took Gilbert aback. "My men?"

"Yes, the day I was taken we were discussing dissent in the ranks of your watchmen."

"Mumblings, my lady, not dissent."

"Well the people who took me knew what route I was taking and where I was coming from. So, perhaps you should investigate those mumblings."

Now Gilbert looked like he just wanted to run. "My lady, are you asking me to treat my own men as suspects."

"I'm telling you they are suspects. I am not telling you to put them under the knife or to fire them. But ask them questions, absolutely."

"As you wish, my lady," he replied, relieved.

"One more thing, captain Gilbert," Margaery said as he began to back away. "Those seditious mutterings. They end, there is to be no more of it. Do you understand."

He met her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, my lady, I'll ensure it doesn't happen in my command."

"You will, and you will ensure this is known to other commanders as well. Every one over which you have a scrap of influence you will speak to."

"Yes, my lady."

Margaery nodded, then waved her hand and dismissed Gilbert with a word. "WIll that work, my lady?" Elinor asked. She was the one handmaiden whom Margaery had kept close at all times, given their near shared experience, she was now the one Margaery trusted the most.

"With the luck of the gods," Margaery replied hopefully. A few loyal officers were going to struggle to root out all misgivings, given their current state of the war, but it would likely have to do. She had already drawn up plans to have another detachment of reachmen join the watch, with the consent of the Lannisters, to help further quash any dissent in the ranks of the goldcloaks.

And she had tolerated dissent for far too long. Lord Tywin may be too quick to reach for the axe and spike, but there were times when it was necessary, and if their enemies felt so bold as to kidnap her, the future queen and anchor in the Lannister-Tyrell alliance in the heart of their power, then she had been too lenient by far. There would be no mass executions, if she could see to it, that was too far, but the murmurings had to stop, the sparks of dissent snuffed in their infancy. She had built up a good first impression with the people, so if she had to be a little more ruthless now, then she, her mouths and her singers could claim that it was the stress and necessity of a war she never wanted, forced on them by Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark, and that they could go back to how they were before with only a little effort.

"The other matter?" She asked her handmaiden.

"Assembled as requested, the first group are in your solar, the second wait next door."

"Excellent, hurry up here please."

Wordlessly, the handmaidens finished making Margaery look like a bruised queen in waiting.

The lords and ladies in her solar turned to her when she entered. It was a collection of the nobility of the crownlands, the near Reach and even two from the Westerlands. These were the ones who had brought their families to King's Landing, hoping the Red Keep would shield them from the marauding Stark and Lannister armies devastating their homelands. Already in her web, this would be the easier of the tasks she had set out to accomplish today.

"My lords and ladies," she said softly, smiling as though her face were unmarked and her power absolute. "It gladdens my heart that you could join me this day."

"It gladdens ours that you invited us," Lady Rosby replied. Others followed in thanking her for inviting them.

"Come, let us eat and drink," she said, beckoning the servants who brought in some food. "I got us a little something extra from the stores, I thought we deserved it," she giggled. The others joined in, everyone was getting despondent with the careful measuring out of their food and drink rations. She had persuaded the council to release her a little more for this morning, so she could soften these lords and ladies up for her next move.

"Lady Wendwater," Margaery said, sliding up beside Lady Wendwater with a second glass of wine. The Wendwaters were one of the most important lords of the Crownlands south of the Blackwater Rush. Their lands had been briefly occupied by Stannis' army when he came for the Battle of the Blackwater, but their lands had been noticibly unscarred when Stannis retreated south, followed by Lord Tarly's advance.

"Lady Margaery," She bowed her head, but quickly started drinking the wine. "How may I help you?"

"I haven't had the chance to speak with you since you arrived in the capital," she said sweetly. "I wanted to introduce myself, and enquire after your family."

"My family is well," Lady Wendwater said, sounding a little suspicious. "My husband and sons remain at our home, holding the defence, my daughters are here with me."

"Your daughters, forgive me, I know them not."

"Raeven, my eldest, fifteen years and prococious as anything, and Camilla, my youngest, still young, but takes after her sister too much for my liking."

"Perhaps their father should discipline them more."

Lady Wendwater smiled. "My husband was never able to raise a hand to Raeven, she's, what's the saying in the Reach, 'the rose of his eye'?"

"That's typically a saying reserved for lovers, not daughters," Margaery said, turning her smile of triumph into one of mirth. She heard the rumour, apparently it was true. "But if I may, I may have a solution to our problems."

"Problems?"

"That your daughters are not yet proper ladies. You say Camilla takes after Raeven and Raeven is prococious. Well, might I propose this," she said, raising her voice slightly so that those nearby would hear. "I find myself rather short of ladies. It would be my pleasure to take Lady Raeven into my escort, life at court would turn her into proper lady in no time at all, and freed from her influence, I'm sure Camilla would as well."

"My lady I-"

Margaery took her hand. "It would be no pleasure at all, have her sent to my chambers this evening, won't you, and I will inform her of her duties."

Margaery turned and walked away, leaving Lady Wendwater stunned and isolated. She wouldn't be for long.

House Wendwater may have limited strength, but with Lord Adrien Wendwater's most treasured child in Margaery's care, the next time Stannis Baratheon stormed the Rush, Wendwater men would fight in their defence.

The rest of the crowd were amused for only a little time, for every one of them had daughters and sons in the capital, and Margaery had guards on the door. None could escape as she went from one to the other, taking sons to squire for her brother, her family and the Kingsguard and daughters into her own noble entourage. When she left the mood was dark, but loyalty assured.

The next task was in some ways easier, in some ways harder. This time, she did not have to persuade, but to inform.

The lords gathered to meet her in the gardens were not of the Crownlands, nor the lordships of the west, but of the Reach, and not the near Reach either. These lords held lands west of the Mander, along the Roseroad and up along the coast from Oldtown to the north. Their lands had been ravaged before, or were under threat of it now that Stannis had near free reign in the Reach. They had come to the court every week, sometimes every day in the darker days of the war, begging for relief for their homelands. Some of them had been the most welcoming of Lord Loren's return from captivity to lead the armies, and many had contributed their soldiers to his army. Some had even gone themselves, they would just have to learn as the news came to them, the rest she would tell now.

"Thank you all for joining me this morning," Margaery said, stepping up onto a plinth to look out over the lords. There were only a score of them, but she needed to stand taller than them here. Her handmaidens fell back and four guardsmen of House Tyrell in full mail stood in front of her, spears held to rest. "I apologise to you all my lords and ladies," she went through their names. Oakheart, Florent, Ambrose, Hastwyck, Sloane and more, but they were the most important. "But I am here to deliver you good news," now came the time to serve gruel and call it roast goose. "The crown has heard your concerns about your lands and families, and we have been able to act." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a thin raven scroll. "My brother has been able to send riders to all of your lands, and confirms that your families that were in the castles, were safe and sound."

"This is good news, my lady!" Lady Oakheart said. Others replied in such a manner.

"Yes, we thank you for that," Lord Hastwyck said gruffly, folding his arms over his chest. "But what are you going to do to keep it that way? Lord Stannis' army is in the field, and Lord Loren is weeks away. Have you provided extra soldiers for our castles?"

"Unfortunately my lord," Margaery said with all the tones of regret she could summon. "We lack the soldiers in the reach to be parcelling them out in such a manner, and so we have done the next best thing. I am pleased to tell you that all of your families are safe behind the walls of Highgarden. My home's garrison is maintained and our stores are filled. They will all be safe there under my brother Willas' watchful gaze. He will not allow any harm to come to them."

She paused for but a moment to let that sink in before speaking again. "I cannot say more, my lords, for matters of the war require my attention, as I'm sure you understand, it is vitally important that we achieve victory against the Baratheons, and we must all contribute as best we are able."

Not waiting for a reply, she bowed her head to show thanks, and turned to depart the garden. It left her feeling uneasy, support was stronger if won through love and mutual respect. But House Tyrell was in its darkest days since Aegon the Conqueror's coming. She shook her head. Two years ago Westeros was at peace and House Tyrell faced no over threats to its power, now they were fighting for their very survival. But House Tyrell would survive. Whether by the politics of the petal or the thorn, it would survive.