A/N: I'm really going to have to think of a better way to name my chapters, so I might have to rework the chapter titles (watch for that), and slowly ease you all into the long arc I've been thinking about. As much as this story is a story about Margaery and her challenges, it would be wrong to ignore that there are other big characters in this story too, and that their perspectives offer a diversity that Margaery's character doesn't. Let me know what you think about the chapter titles - should I change it, or should I not?

Also, another note, there is an appendix posted to "The Rose Garden's Bloom" that you should probably check out for reference if you'd like, alongside one completed story on there. I'll definitely begin to populate it with more side stories, but just as a note for all of you.

Anyways, welcome to Sansa II and Tyrion I. We have some interesting developments here.


SANSA II

"-why Mathis Rowan's eldest, Lady Lana, is looking for a place at Highgarden's courts right now at the brink of the war, seeking to find a nice betrothal to an unattached second son," Talla spoke rapidly. "Of course, if we can find a decent match, that will increase goodwill, but otherwise, we have to wait. I've had very little luck in my sororities though…" Talla continued to speak, and Sansa felt her mind wandering off once again as they walked from Highgarden's main chambers to a more appropriate sitting room.

I don't know why Margaery said that Talla was quiet, because she has talked so frequently and knows so much that it's almost bewildering to think of. She is truly a Lady of the South to emulate, it seems. I must brush up on my knowledge of houses and heraldry if I wish to participate in Southern courts as effectively.

"-recent string of betrothals have been interesting though, Sansa, Olene is said to be deeply in love with her handmaiden and yet they betrothed her to Renly- oh, I apologize Sansa, mayhaps I've been speaking too much." Talla said, embarrassed. "What do you think of the recent string of betrothals?"

"I- well, it is good that the Reach is being tied together more thoroughly on the eve of war, correct?" Sansa asked nervously. "If a Realm isn't secure, how can it wish to wage war effectively with its neighbors?"

"Very true, Lady Sansa!" Garlan exclaimed as we walked over to join them, grinning as he saw the woman he was recently betrothed to. "Marge will be happy with all of these betrothals - she's always enjoyed the idea of marriage alliances, right, Talla?"

"Garlan!" Talla exclaimed, smiling in joy as they hugged each other. "Did the talk with the Lords go well?"

"It seemed so, love, we had a lot of discussion as to what 'consisted' of proper grain distribution." Garlan answered boredly. "Mother was not happy and we had to renegotiate at least five times with Lord Rowan and Lady Oakheart. Shame that we were interrupted by the arrival of the Martell envoy, though."

Talla's eyes narrowed. "Rowan and Oakheart, you say? I've heard interesting rumors from my sorority sisters about their sudden aggression as of late."

Her hawk-like eyes suddenly flashed furiously, and Sansa was reminded that she was the daughter of Lord Randyll Tarly, said to be the best battle commander in Highgarden.

"Garlan, do you need me to address this issue? The sorority can definitely exercise some power if need be."

"Don't worry, I'll let you know if they do," Garlan replied nonchalantly. Even with his non-threatening stance and nonchalant nature, Sansa knew that Garlan was ready for action if need be. "Though, I really don't think we should be discussing this in the middle of a hall, Talla, or else that opens retaliation."

Talla blushed suddenly, realizing where she was at, and after a brief stop of embarrassment, she continued to talk again, leaning into Garlan. Sansa saw Garlan's smile as his betrothed leaned into him, making it clear that those attentions were definitely not unwanted, but rather, encouraged by him.

It was clear to Sansa's eyes that the two of them were looking for any excuse to separate from Sansa to partake in a distraction, given that the two of them were staring at each other with increased intensity.

"Oh, Garlan, Lady Talla, I'm so sorry, but I must...check out the library to see the collection of books on the South." Sansa quickly declared, attempting to make up a valid excuse. "I can walk there myself, do not worry."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Garlan asked, with a curious look on his face. "We can escort you there, if you think that you might get lost."

Talla nudged him quietly, and he looked briefly at his betrothed before nodding in understanding.

"Heading to the library takes four lefts, Lady Sansa," Talla said quickly. "It was a pleasure talking to you - I will see you soon, I hope?"

Sansa smiled and nodded, before hugging Garlan and Talla. Both Talla and Sansa kissed each other's cheeks in the same manner that close relatives in the South are prone to do, before Sansa walked away quickly to give the couple their privacy.

House Tyrell is so different from House Stark and yet so similar. Robb and Margaery certainly would have tried to distract me before leaving, and yet, they are so social compared to my brother and his wife! Who knew that politicking could be this exhausting?

Sansa found herself reflecting on her home and House Stark as she walked towards the library. Highgarden was beautiful, and the courts were a much better improvement than the courts of King's Landing, but even being an ally to the House in charge and being a good-sibling to Margaery did not diminish Sansa's caution one bit as she fared with the courts of Highgarden. She missed the simplicity of home, the smell of summer snows, and her family, all together.

If only Father had rescued Bran in time, or I had soothed him more, so that our journey would be smooth. Maybe then, they would have been with me as we escaped, and we could have fled to Winterfell together. Oh, Bran..

So lost in her episode of grief and brooding, Sansa did not even notice that she had made a wrong turn right instead of left. Instead of arriving at the Highgarden library, she found herself headed towards the sitting rooms used for negotiation that Garlan had just exited. Eventually, Sansa realized that she was lost, and attempted to retrace her steps, but even a few weeks in Highgarden had not prepared her for how complex the layout of the keep was.

She found herself walking aimlessly, panicking more and more as she found herself even more lost than she actually was.

Seven hells, just how big is Highgarden? This keep is smaller than Winterfell, but the layout makes absolutely no sense!

Eventually, just as she was about to give up, she carelessly bumped into a boy taller than her, looking Loras's age, and the force of her panicked run knocked both of them to the ground.

"I am so sorry!" Sansa blurted out quickly, defaulting to her courtesies. "I was not watching where I was going, and I ran into you instead, my lord."

He stood up quickly, with all of the speed of an experienced warrior recovering on the tiltyard, and when he stood up, Sansa almost audibly gasped at his look. He had a face that looked so familiar, and yet, with different features that Sansa froze at his look.

This stranger had Jon's nose and Jon's smile!

Their faces were slightly different, as if they had been the same sculpture carved by different sculptors, and yet, with pale-blonde hair and eyes so purple they looked almost black, it was strange for Sansa to see such a resemblance between her dear brother and a stranger, and yet, as she kept looking, she couldn't look away.

He flashed her a charming smile and held out his hand, which Sansa took hesitantly. His gaze was intense, and yet there was something disarming about it, something that caused her cheeks to redden at his attention.

"Do not worry, my lady, I was also not paying as much attention as I should have and did not notice you." the handsome stranger said diplomatically. "May I ask for your name, my lady?"

"Only if you are to tell me yours, my lord," Sansa said. "It would be most improper otherwise."

He laughed freely, smoothing over his hair in a way that made it catch in the afternoon sunlight, and Sansa noticed the silvery sheen of the hair.

He looks like no other man I have ever met. Perhaps he is of House Dayne? Father said that House Dayne was known for pale blond hair and purple eyes, but that would not make any sense. Unless-

"That seems fair, my lady." the stranger replied teasingly, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts. "I would like to know the name of the witty red-haired beauty that has bumped into me."

"My name is Sansa Stark, of House Stark of Winterfell." Sansa replied courteously. "What is your name, my lord?"

The stranger hesitated for a second. "Call me….Griff, my lady, the sellsword Griff."

Sansa raised an eyebrow at his phrasing. "Is Griff your name, my lord?"

He smirked, giving her a challenging look.

"What do you think, my lady? Is Griff a nickname, or an actual name?"

Sansa felt herself becoming more and more frustrated with this stranger's non-answers. After a long day of social gatherings that had exhausted her energy, and a long walk to the library which had ended in a fruitless search, Sansa had absolutely no time to play guessing games with a stranger (even if he was a handsome one) that would not reveal his name to her. She pushed her normal courtesies aside in frustration and uttered a response that was surely rude.

"I think that it is very rude of you to demand for my name, and yet not provide a name in return, my lord." Sansa said coldly. "I am sorry if you are unsatisfied with my apologies for running into you earlier, and that you wish to obscure your identity because of that, but I would rather that you reveal your name, so that both of us could politely walk away and pretend that this incident never happened, if that is what you wish, my lord."

She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth after the words she had uttered, mentally chastising herself for her rudeness to this stranger. Septa Mordane would have made her wash her mouth with soap for that insolence! Stupid girl, she thought, a lady of the South is respectful rather than rude! Acting like...like Arya isn't going to help my reputation!

Any other man at this point would most likely have yelled at her and she would have had to apologize for her insolence, but yet, the stranger's curious spark had turned into outright admiration in a way that confused Sansa. Admiration, and challenge in a manner which turned Sansa's stomach in a way that did not feel that unpleasant.

"You are correct, Lady Sansa," he replied, "Let us say that Griff is a nickname, and that I am not at liberty to reveal my name as of yet because of the danger it would mayhaps put House Tyrell in. You may guess my identity if you like, however. And yet I am not unsatisfied by your apology. I do not wish to pretend as if this incident never happened, and find myself fascinated, rather than angry at your response. What should I do then?"

"Then I will not attempt to guess your identity, my lord, if only to keep our benefactors safe." Sansa said, slipping into the demeanor her siblings had called "Queen Sansa". "But I would tell you that you look a lot like a person I know well, and that I do not think you are merely a sellsword. But regardless of your actual identity, you have no need to be rude, and that as penance, you should mayhaps escort me to the Highgarden library, if you know the location, my lord."

He smirked, holding out his arm, which she took. She could feel the muscle underneath his arm, and knew that he must have trained in the tiltyard frequently. There was something about him, Sansa thought, that was regal. Not only that, he would have to be a very important guest to risk the safety of House Tyrell, more important than her, politically, then.

"Impressed?" the man asked, his violet eyes almost assessing her.

"Not really," Sansa said dismissively, trying to conceal the thrill that filled her as she verbally sparred with the man. "I still don't know who you are, my lord, and your attempts to ingratiate yourself to me are foolish."

"And yet here you are," he said, unfazed by her remarks, "allowing for a strange lord to escort you to the library. You are certainly one strange woman, Sansa Stark. Here we are, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord, for your escort to the library," Sansa remarked as she let go of her hand.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing much of one another soon," he remarked impishly, and he winked before he walked away.

What a strange man. Perhaps I will meet him again, some time.


TYRION I

The situation we have put ourselves in has gone beyond the pale. How my sweet sister managed to ruin everything in a single, hasty move, I do not know.

Tyrion sighed as he thought about the incidents that had brought him to King's Landing. The Wall had been fascinating, and there was definitely more to the Wall than what he had seen, but time and his duties had called for him as he rushed back to King's Landing.

Cersei's assassination attempt nearly had me stranded in the North. If Father hadn't had the sense to threaten Riverrun and ensure that House Lannister had free passage through the Riverlands I doubt I would have ever made it to King's Landing to begin with.

The onset of the war had arrived, and even he knew that the forces stacked against them would be difficult to combat with what they had. With the might of the North, Reach, Dorne, and the Stormlands all stacked against them through either Stannis, Robb Stark, or the dragon pretender Aegon, Tyrion knew that it would be difficult for House Lannister to escape this situation intact. Though they had Ned and young Brandon Stark held as hostages to the North, if anything, it didn't seem to deter the North from preparing for war.

And if you read the signs clearly, Robb Stark's marriage to Margaery Tyrell will ensure that the North will be bound to the Reach and the dragon pretender for alliance. The Riverlands will be a flimsy defense against that might, as much as Father may think otherwise.

King's Landing was also a disaster. Cersei's manipulations and Jaime's gleeful engagement in a battle in the middle of the day had soured public opinion of House Lannister, and the smallfolk were certainly unhappy, especially after House Tyrell began stopping food shipments to King's Landing. Father had commanded him to come to King's Landing and to serve as acting Hand, but between the nightmare that was Joffrey and the horrible situation they were faced with, headaches filled his days as he attempted to work out the best strategy to keep his House and his head afloat. Privately, Tyrion thought that if he had any sense, he would have fled to Essos and lived his life away from the chaos, but Tyrion knew he had to protect Myrcella and Tommen, and keep his brother alive somehow.

Tyrion knew that the only way he would keep his nephew and niece alive was to send them away from King's Landing, but Cersei's extreme responses had proven that it would be difficult to actualize. Tommen was still squiring under Ser Barristan, and had functionally earned the knight's loyalty, in the case that King's Landing was sieged, but Myrcella needed a betrothal that would effectively send her out of King's Landing and out of the war, in the (likely) case that they were to fall.

Because of that, the only real candidate in the Seven Kingdoms that didn't hate House Lannister and would likely protect her should she ingratiate herself with them would be Robert Arryn in the Vale. Robert Arryn was related to Robb Stark in the case that anyone other than House Lannister were to win the war, and his familial connection would ensure that Myrcella was protected, but if House Lannister were to win, Myrcella could easily transition into a Lady of the Vale that would also be protected by House Lannister.

It was clear that Cersei would not allow for her daughter to be sent away from King's Landing by her will, and so Tyrion realized that he would need to engage in deception to successfully give his niece security. He also knew that Cersei had informants within the Small Council, and he knew he had to avoid informing Cersei of his true plans. Varys had left King's Landing, and so between Pycelle and Littlefinger, he had to decide whether he would tell Pycelle or Littlefinger the truth.

Thus, Tyrion told Pycelle that he was to send Tommen away to squire with the Knights of the Vale alongside young Robert Arryn, and Tyrion told Littlefinger of his plans to send Myrcella to Robert Arryn and that he would discreetly offer Lord Baelish the standing he would need to marry Lysa Arryn if he was to enable the betrothal and to bring the Vale into the fold, or at least, to continue keeping them neutral. Thus, Cersei spent so much time attempting to stop Tommen from leaving King's Landing that she ignored the negotiations made in front of her until the betrothal was truly set, and Myrcella's departure confirmed.

And so the scheme was completed. Even Cersei, short sighted as she may be, could not attempt to ruin those plans and directly alienate another part of the Seven Kingdoms so stacked against us. So long as the Vale remained neutral, and young Rosamund Lannister was brought as a "double" for Myrcella, even Cersei could not reject this betrothal offer, even while watching her precious golden daughter leave.

Littlefinger had "conveniently" found his way onto the ship to the Vale, and so Myrcella, Rosamund, Lannister guards, and Littlefinger would join the envoy at the Vale. It was with some level of sadness that Tyrion realized that his niece was in dangerous territory now, but less dangerous than what would befall them if they didn't find a solution fast to the forces approaching them, or even the forces within.

That was what filled Tyrion's latest headache as he left the latest Small Council meeting. With appointments to prominent Westerlander and Crownlands Lords, the fools did not read the signs that there were dangerous times ahead of them. The smallfolk was unhappy and looked ready to riot from the recent food shortages, but if the betrothal between Joffrey and Malaquo Maegyr's granddaughter came through, it would be possible for Volantis to ship food to King's Landing, bolstering their food sources that they could potentially retake themselves.

A dwarf's work is never done, it seems, but at the very least, I can relax with some whores and nice wine. That will be the best way for me to take my mind off the day's events.

And so Tyrion went back to his new chambers, and Ned Stark's former chambers, to find Dancy at his bedchambers with a bottle of wine, and Marei, sitting solemnly in a very revealing position.

"Sweetlings, what are you doing here?" Tyrion asked in delight, half-jesting. He had been the one to call them himself, but in his stress over the Small Council meeting, he had forgotten that he had an "appointment" with the two beautiful ladies.

"We're here to serve you, milord," Dancy smirked, as she opened the bottle of wine in a very pleasing manner, and poured out a glass for him to drink. "A glass of wine for luck, milord? You must certainly be very stressed."

"And I assure you, sweetlings, you will be the remedy to that stress," Tyrion said brightly as he climbed atop the bed to kiss Marei. He spent some time getting lost in her beautiful bosom and body, as the pleasant sensation of both whores on his body filled him, with the glass of wine sitting at the nightstand. Eventually, he reached out for it, and Dancy saw what he was doing and grabbed the wine for him, while pouring a cup for herself as well.

"Cheers, my lord?" Dancy said teasingly.

"With two beauties such as yourself to alleviate the day's pains away, there could be nothing but cheers." Tyrion answered wryly, and took a deep swig of wine. The sweetness of Arbor Gold filled his mouth along with something else he couldn't describe filled his mouth, as he greedily gulped the wine.

Something was wrong somehow. He didn't know what, but the alarm bells rang in his mind, even as Marei was kissing his neck pleasantly, and so he stood, stock still as a statue as he was undressed by the two courtesans. Upon closer inspection, Tyrion saw a paper with a golden rose attached to the bottle. Suddenly, it struck him: Arbor Gold had been out since the Reach had begun their shipment ban, so how could he have gotten access to it? And what was that strange taste?

Exhaustion suddenly filled Tyrion's body, as he blearily struggled to keep his eyes open. He could feel his heart beating madly, and slowly out of tune, as he struggled to stay awake. Dancy, who had taken a greedier gulp of wine, had collapsed in front of him, and Marei looked as though she was beginning to panic.

Poison?!

He struggled to raise a hand to his mouth to force himself to vomit whatever poison he had ingested, but he barely had any energy to keep his eyes open, let alone to force himself to vomit. He was going to die if he didn't do anything though, but exhaustion kept filling him, and he knew, somehow, that it was a lost cause.

"Milord? MILORD!" He heard Marei scream, as guards rushed into the room, with Tyrion laying naked in bed, but he barely had the energy to do anything any more. Perhaps he could sleep for a little bit…

Tysha…

And so, his last thought as he fell unconscious for a final time was the sight of a beautiful dark-haired and slender woman that had once been his wife.