Deal

by Zogus

Sansa agreed to aid Olenna in recusing her grandchildren from the High Sparrow, in exchange the Tyrell army will aid the Stark in taking back Winterfell.

I originally posted this at Ao3.

Enjoy and as always here's the disclaimer: nothing belongs to me so please don't sue me.

---

Flags with either House Stark or Tyrell sigils rise as the men from different houses meet at the borderline of Riverlands and the Reach. A horse pulls a beautifully crafted carriage up from the south side to the front of the Tyrell's army, stopping right on the borderline. A young squire quickly opens the door, revealing the Queen of Thorns.

The person sitting on a horse, in front of the other side of men, is a girl with dark ruby hair. She wears a black leather dress with scales that looks like they had been pull off from a dragon. A direwolf is engraved onto the chest for all to see.

"Lady Olenna."

The old lady did not flinch when the girl said her name frigidly. However, she is impressed by how much the young, naive girl has changed in such a short amount of time. She heard after the Purple Wedding, Sansa stayed at the Eyrie and rapidly rose to power. Some said she pushed her aunt into the moon-door to take control of the House Arynn. Others said she seduced Lord Baelish to do her bidding. Regardless, Sansa Stark has become The Red Wolf and taken control over the Vale and Riverland.

Olenna is too old and experienced too much to be intimidated by a girl with an army. "Dear, I'm too old to speak to you like this. Why don't you get off your high horse and speak to me inside my comfortable carriage?"

A man with a fish engraved into his armor rides up to The Red Wolf, whispers into her ear. Despite the warning, Sansa gracefully gets off her noble steed and walks up to the carriage with the man and her protector, Brienne of Tarth close behind.

Olenna straightens her back and nods at the young squire to move out the way for The Red Wolf to enter. "Come in, dear. We have a lot to discuss.

Sansa nodded at her men before steps into the carriage. As soon she sits down across Olenna, the door slams close with both Stark and Tyrell men guarding outside. "Lady Olenna, I believe you want something from me."

"You most likely heard the news." Cersei, Margaery, and Loras were arrested for their sins by the High Sparrow. They have been locked for many moons in the cells of the Great Sept of Baelor.

"Yes, I heard. To be pardon, Cersei will need to do the walk of atonement." The wolf's lips curl up slightly.

"Margaery will need to do the same." The older woman watches the young girl's face goes back to being stoic. At least her granddaughter's name can still affect the girl.

"I'm sure she can talk her way out of it. Queen Margaery is very cunning after all."

The older woman shakes her head. "This isn't something she can talk her way out of."

"Then why not storm the sept with the Lannister army. Doesn't the young king want his mother and queen back?"

Olenna scoffs, "The Lannister army and the Kingsguards have been ordered to protect the zealots and Jaime Lannister, the King's Guards Commander was stripped of his rank by his bastard son, King Tommen. The stupid boy king is weak and currently controlled by the High Sparrow."

Olenna will not allow such humiliation upon her family but her house cannot crush the High Sparrow and his many followers alone. Even though the Tyrell has one of the largest armies in Westros. The Lannister has the biggest army in Westros. Combined with the Kingsguards, zealous followers, and rebellious common folks, the Tyrell army wouldn't stand a chance.

Olenna is amused that Sansa does not look surprised by the news. She must've already known why the Tyrell is meeting her. She wants to know if there any new or different information. Like Littlefinger, Sansa craves for knowledge.

"Dear, let's not play any more games. I played enough in my lifetime. It only going to waste time. I need your army."

Sansa's mouth gapes open, wanting to justify her actions, but instead her jaws tighten. "Why, in the seven hells, I want to help recuse the Lannisters? They destroyed my house. As far I know, the High Sparrow and his followers did me a favor for arresting Cersei. You have my deepest condolences for your grandchildren's captivity. Currently, my army is focusing on taking back the North." Sansa raises her hand, ready to knock on the door, signaling her guards that the conversation is over.

"Margaery cared for you in King's Landing."

Sansa drops her arm, eyes harden. She snaps, "Did she? Or she was just drawn to me because of my name? I do remember her noticeable absence after my wedding with Lord Tyrion and my bother's death. When I am no longer useful to her."

Olenna can see the fire in the girl. She wonders if the fire was there all along. Did she always know the Tyrell's motives? And went along with it? Did she just pretend to be naive and meek? Did she really underestimate the young naive girl back King's Land?

Either way, Sansa is wrong about Margaery. Olenna did tell her granddaughter that Sansa Stark can be useful to them, but she didn't expect her beautiful Rose would fall in love with the Stark girl. She never seen the young Tyrell so work up about a simple afternoon tea. She remembers how Margaery once angrily yelled at the servants for messing up the lemon cake that the Stark girl loves so much. From the balcony, she watched her granddaughter's eyes lit up and smile widely when she succeeds at making Sansa laugh.

The night of Sansa's wedding, Olenna caught Margaery crying in her chamber. The young Tyrell quickly wiped off her tears when she approached her. The next day Margaery started to avoid Sansa. After all, when you're playing the game of thrones, you can't spare to be in love.

A long uncomfortable silence falls between the two ladies.

The Queen of Thorns huffs and breaks the silence. "The Tyrell army will march North with the Stark army to take back Winterfell from the Boltons after the zealots are crushed. To prove good faith, my grandson, Ser Loras will lead the Tyrell army."

Although Sansa has the support of the bannermen under House Arynn and Tully and the Free Folks from Castle Black, she isn't able to take the North yet. Both houses will need a good portion of their men to remain to guard their land. Half of the Free Folks are children and elders that cannot fight. The Boltons have big Northern houses on their side, and the smaller houses are reluctant to join her army. Like the Tyrells need her army, she needs the Tyrell army.

Sansa remains stoic. "What about Cersei?"

"Now Jaime is gone, his uncle Kevan controls the Lannister army and the Kingsguards. Even though Kevan and Cersei don't see eye to eye, he wouldn't want Cersei to be punished publicly. Her atonement will only bring humiliation toward the house. They will not attack if we promise them the safe return of Cersei."

"With both of our armies, we can easily defeat the Lannisters and the Kingsguards."

Olenna raises an eyebrow. "Child, do you want the Iron Throne?"

When Sansa was engaged to Joffery, she had the chance to sit next to the Iron Throne and be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. When Ned Stark's head was removed, all the fairy tales the young girl wished for had vanished completely. Now the same girl, who has matured after being manipulated and tormented by the greatest politicians in Westros, has the chance to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and sit on the Iron Throne.

House Arryn and House Tully will support House Stark. After the death of Robert, Stannis, and Renly, the few remaining Baratheon bannermen went to House Lannister. Although House Martell supports the crown, their feud with the Lannisters can be used to alter their loyalty. House Lannister wouldn't stand a chance if Sansa decided to take the throne with the support of House Tyrell.

However, House Targaryen can a problem. House Greyjoy has already pledged their loyalty to the Dragon Queen in Meereen. Not only Daerney Targaryen has three dragons and a large army, she also has legitimate claims to the Iron Throne. But again, who cares about claims? Robert Baratheon became king with no rightful claims. He won the Rebellion merely out of luck and his tight bond with Ned Stark and John Arryn.

"No." The simple word comes out from The Red Wolf firmly and clearly. "I want the North, and the North only."

The older woman halts her trail of thoughts on putting a Stark on the throne. She wonders what about the North is so appealing that the Starks are so devoted to it. After Robert's Rebellion, Ned Stark had the power to take any part of the South but instead, he chose to go back to the harsh cold and be the Warden of the North. Now his daughter given the chance to be the most powerful person in the Seven Kingdoms yet she chooses the North instead.

"Very well. Do we have a deal?" Olenna reaches out her arm. The Red Wolf hesitated but eventually, she clasps her arm against her bony arm in agreement.

Sansa nodded at her before raises her hand and knocks on the door. Quickly, the door whips open. Dozens of men stare intensely back at the two ladies inside the carriage. Sansa ignores the stares and gets off the carriage.

"She did care about you," Olenna said matter-of-factly.

Sansa turns her head and looks back at the older woman. "It doesn't matter now." Even though her words sound cold, her eyes show a bit of sorrow.

---

A month after the first meeting between House Stark and Tyrell, thousands of soldiers storm into King's Landing. Surprisingly, The Red Wolf herself is among her soldiers. Despite having a beautiful sword hangs on her waist, she doesn't participate in the actual fighting. She observes the fight and commands her men from her steed. On her side, Brienne and a relatively short man always there to slay any attackers near her. In fascination, Olenna watches the girl orders her men with absolute authority and confidence.

As promised, the Lannister army and the Kinguards show little to no resistance to the army. Most common folks lock themselves inside their home, peering out from the windows and doors. A few groups of poor fools band together in an attempt to resist the army, but they are quickly taken care of.

The girl watches the peasants being butchered by the soldiers with no disgust or regret, instead, she rather looks satisfied. Olenna doesn't blame the girl for not showing any mercy. Joffrey promised to give Ned Stark mercy, but instead, he ordered his execution in front of the people in King's Landing. Sansa witnessed the mob cheering and applauding for the death of her father. She has no love for the people in King's Landing.

Soon, the army meets with the hundreds of High Sparrow's followers in front of the Great Sept. The followers look determined to fight the army to the death with nothing but sticks.

The High Sparrow, in his old rags, stands in front of his follower calmly. Olenna steps out from her heavy carriage that is made out of steel. "Drop your stupid sticks and go home. We only want the High Sparrow. Your mothers or fathers wouldn't want you to die for nothing," She looks disapprovingly at the large group of zealots.

No one moves. The High Sparrow smiles, "We serve the will of the Gods. When the Gods demand justices, we deliver it. Your grandchildren had si-"

"High Sparrow," The Red Wolf announces, "You and your followers will meet the Gods today."

The moment Sansa finishes the sentence her men rush past her. Before the High Sparrow can say anything, the short man, who was always fighting close to The Red Wolf, already slits his throat. He falls onto his knees. In his last breath, he reaches out to the sky. In a thud, his body collapses to the ground. The soldiers run over his corpse to give the same fate to his followers.

At the bottom of the steps, The Red Wolf oversees the slaughter with little to no emotion. When the very last follower fallen onto the ground, she guides her horse to Olenna. "Lady Olenna, do you want to accompany me to the dungeon underneath the sept?"

Olenna nods and orders a squire to bring her a sedan chair. As her men carry her up to the sept, Olenna looks over the sea of dead followers on her sedan chair. She sees a familiar blond hair among the dead. Lancel Lannister, son of Keavin Lannister. She shakes her head as her men walk past the body. That boy is too far gone to be saved.

The once beautiful floor inside the holy building is covered with bodies and blood. Olenna is glad that her men are carrying her. She can hear splashes of blood as the soldiers walk. Sansa, who is walking next to her, seems unbothered by the blood soaking into her leather dress.

To her dismay, Olenna has to give up her chair once they reach the dungeon entrance because of the low ceiling. The smell inside the dungeon is foul. Olenna covers her nose with a piece of cloth as she walks through the cells with The Red Wolf and a group of soldiers. When they reach Margaery's cell, they find the young Queen curls up at the corner.

The young Queen is only wearing the old rags that the followers wear. Her hair is down without her usual southron braids. Her skin is so pale, despite it's covered with dirt.

Olenna's eyes widen with a little redness. "Oh, my Rose." She never saw her granddaughter so vulnerable and scared. There is no window or bucket in small confinement. When is the last time her Rose feels the sunlight?

The young Queen raises her head, revealing a burnt on her left cheek. The wound has not been properly taken care of. It's probably got infected, judging by the flaming redness on the flesh. "Grandmother?" She asks in a shaky voice. Her usual bright blue eyes are now dark and dull. Her usual smirking lips are now quivering in fear.

Olenna walks up to her granddaughter. Despite the disdain smell and dirty appearance, Olenna kneels and wraps her arms around her Rose. "My Rose, you're safe now."

Margaery struggles out of shock at first, but eventually, she breaks down and cries loudly in her grandmother's arms. While comforting her granddaughter, in the corner of her eyes, Olenna sees Sansa standing in the doorway, watching them with furies in her hardened eyes.

Sansa gives one last glance at the young Queen before quietly exits the cell. Olenna watches the Stark girl leaves the cell with Brienne and the short man following her.

Olenna sends some of her men to find Loras as she continues to comfort her granddaughter. She waits patiently for Margaery's cries to die down for one or two candles. When she stands up, she winces quietly as her stiff back stretches.

Unlike Margaery still with a bit of reality in her, Loras is truly gone. The zealots had broken him completely. On top of his forehead, there is a scar of a religious symbol. The zealots had claimed him as one of their own. The young dashing flowery knight curls up in a fetal position when Olenna comes out of the dungeon with Margaery clings onto her.

Olenna tries to snap Loras out of it, but he just keeps saying that he will confess to his sins as long the pain stops. When Margaery leaves Olenna's side to comfort her brother, he flings his arms wildly. The guards have to restrain him to prevent him from harming anyone.

"Lady Olenna, are you ready? The Lannisters are getting impatient." Sansa walks into the hall with Cersei unconscious in Brienne's arms. Olenna notices the short soldier is nowhere to be seen but seeing Cersei makes her blood boil. She regrets making a deal with the Lannisters. She wants to make that bitch pay for what she had done.

"Sansa?" Margaery's eyes lits when she sees the red-headed girl.

The girl remains stoic as she greets Margaery politely. "Lady Margaery, you and your brother have my deepest condolences to the hardship you both had suffered in these past months." The words sound genuine but there still a bit of coldness in them that makes Margaery shivers.

Sansa looked at Loras' unstable state before she excuses herself to prepare her men to leave the capital. Margaery sadly watches the other girl goes. "She changed," Margaery gently caresses her wound on her cheek, "So did I."

"Don't dwell with that, dear. Let's go. This place is starting to reek with death."

Margaery nods and follows her back to the carriage.

---

There are already thousands of Lannister soldiers and Kingsguards waiting for them at the gate. Sansa rides up to meet with Kevan Lannister. With Cersei unconscious at the back of her horse, Brienne moves her horse behind Sansa.

"Here's Cersei. Tell your men to move aside."

Kevan's eyes narrow at his niece. "Where's Queen Margaery?"

Sansa's eyes narrow down at the carriage behind her. Kevan ignores his niece and walks past Sansa and Brienne with only a handful of his soldiers behind him. Both the Stark and Tyrell bannermen immediately draw their weapon. Sansa raises her hand and the men quickly settle down their weapon.

Every step he makes forward to the carriage, the metal plates of his armor rub together, creating an uneasy rustling sound. With his handful of men and himself included surrounded by enemies, Kevan knocks on the metal door. "Queen Margaery, I'm here to escort you back to the castle. The King misses you terribly."

Olenna looks at her granddaughter who is staring down at her rags. Her hands clench onto the dirty piece of cloth, looking so scared and nervous like a peasant meeting a lord for the first time.

The dream of becoming the most powerful woman in all Seven Kingdoms is what Margaery wanted for as a little girl. She followed all the rules in the game of thrones to become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but apparently, being the Queen can't shield her from all the pain and suffering.

Now the High Sparrow is gone and Cersei in a vulnerable state, Margaery can be safe again. But what if another High Sparrow comes and persuades the King that his Queen has sinned. What happens when Cersei recovers and returns to plot Margaery's demise? She will never be safe in King's Landing.

Margaery turns to her but refuses to look up at her. "Grandmother, I'm so tired," She whispers with obvious desperation.

The older Tyrell remembers ever since Margaery was a babe, she always seeks for her approval. Her Rose always afraid to disappoint her but she never did. Her Rose has suffered enough from all those games she was forced to play at a young age.

Olenna grabs Margaery's hands and gently pats on them. "My Rose, it's alright." She slides her hand across the metal wall and pulls on a hidden switch. A window appears. Olenna chuckles over the startled look on Kevan Lannister. "Lord Kevan, my granddaughter will not return to be Queen. Please tell the King we bid him well."

Taken back from the words, Kevan leans close to the window angrily. "Lady Olenna, this is not how it works."

Sensing some hostility, Sansa rides close to the carriage with her men drawing their weapon slowly.

Kevan turns to Margaery through the small window. He speaks in a softer tone, "Queen Margaery, I'm sure the King can compromise something to make up for your misfortune once you're back in the castle."

Margaery holds her head up high and stares directly at Kevan, revealing one of the damages she received part of her misfortune. "When he sided with my tormentors, he no longer upholds his vow to shield me under his cloak. He broke his vow. He is no longer my husband."

"Queen Margaery!"

"You heard her," Sansa smirks at the angry vein on Kevan's forehead when he turns his head away from the window to glare at her, "I suggest you take your niece back to at least deliver something back to your King."

"I will take my niece and Queen Margaery back to the King! One way or another!" Kevan draws his sword which signals his men to draw their swords too.

The Red Wolf steps in front of him, daring him to slice her open with his sword. "Lord Kevan, before you do anything you will regret, look around."

Kevan scans his surroundings and frowns. There are barely two thousand of both Stark and Tyrell soldiers within the gate. There should be at least ten times the amount. Kevan starting to get nervous the more he thinks about the rest of the army's whereabouts.

"If you do anything, your small army will be fighting thousands of soldiers outside the gate and thousands of soldiers inside the gate," The Red Wolf concludes with a snide smile.

Fear washes over Kevan's face at the image of his army being swamped by enemies. He clenches his jaws tightly as he puts his sword away. He nods his men, and the gate starts to open and the Lannister soldiers quickly clear the way.

Once the gate is fully open, the two thousand soldiers quickly march out of the capital. After making sure the carriage passes the gate, Sansa turns to Brienne. The lady knight gets off her horse and carries Cersei into her arms. "Wise choice, Lord Kevan." Kevan scowls and takes his niece into his arms.

---

The camp is roaring with cheers of victory as men from different houses drink heartily. Even though the rescue mission didn't bring the satisfaction of a real battle, the soldiers were able to confiscate many valuable things inside the Great Sept.

However, inside the largest tent, no one is singing or drinking happily. In the middle of the tent, there is a beautiful wooden table with a large map of the North on top.

"I will not fight alongside those savages!" Randyll Tarly slams his fist onto the table.

The Red Wolf doesn't look bothered by Lord Tarly's outburst. She sighs with a bit of annoyance like she just witnessed a toddler throwing a fit. "Those savages are the free folks who are loyal to my brother, Lord Commander Snow of Black Castle. They are a large part of the army. Your son-"

He scoffs in disgusts, "My son dishonors the house when he decided to be allied with the enemies. I refuse to be part of that."

"Randyll," Olenna speaks for the first time in the meeting. "You pledged to serve to House Tyrell, and I swore an oath to aid House Stark in taking back Winterfell."

"Lady Olenna, I have known you since I was a child. You have my greatest respect but I also swore enemy with the Wildlings. Please understand. I cannot be part of this battle. My men will guard the Reach and wait for your return." Randyll bows sincerely to the older woman before leaving the tent with his son Dickon close behind him.

"House Tarly is your most powerful and influential bannerman. Your other bannermen will follow him," Sansa removes the Tyrell bannermen pieces off the map.

"Don't worry, dear. I have never broken an oath. Even if it's only House Tyrell, we are more than capable to support your army."

"With your commander of your men gone, who will lead the Tyrell army? I believe Ser Loras is not well to lead."

"My grandson is not fit for the position currently, so I will send my other grandchildren to lead the army."

The redhead's eyebrow arches up in surprise. "Willas? Isn't he a crip-"

"Margaery," Olenna replies, cutting off another insult towards her house.

The former queen grins wildly at the baffled Red Wolf. She has a wooden mask that temporarily covers the burnt on her left cheek. With her wound covered, Margaery seems to regain a bit of confidence back. "I am pleased to work with you, Lady Sansa."

The Red Wolf shifts her attention back to the Queen of Thorn. "She isn't a commander. She has no military experience."

"I remember correctly that you didn't have any military experience either yet you lead an army. Margaery will have experienced soldiers to guide her along the way. She is the only Tyrell left that can bring you the Tyrell army."

Sansa reluctantly agreed. They continue to discuss what to expect from the Boltons once they reach to Winterfell to meet with her half-brother and his Free Folks army for one or two more candles.

"Tomorrow we will head to Riverrun early in the morning. Hopefully, we can reach to the Twins within a week," Sansa bids them goodnight before leaving the tent with Brienne.

"That went well," Margaery comments when she and Olenna are alone in the tent.

"Yes," Olenna studies her Rose who is now in her usual colorful dresses and her usual southron braids. Other than the wooden mask, Margaery doesn't seem like she had changed at all. However, Olenna, unlike other people, notices how her granddaughter's behaviors have changed. She no longer flickers her eyes mischievously or curls her lips into a smirk. Nevertheless, it's hasn't been a day since Margaery is rescued. There still plenty of time for her to heal, especially now the Stark girl is involved. "You need to be careful in the North. Many northerners are not too happy to see a southron army march into their homes."

Margaery's eyes widen upon realization, "You are not coming with me."

Olenna shakes her head in confirmation. "Our bannermen are having doubts about serving our house. I need to go back to the Reach to remind them who did they swear loyalty to. Loras is coming with me. He won't be much of a help for you."

Margaery frowns. "But I just got you guys back."

"Sweetie, after the war is over, you can come to visit Highgarden anytime you want, assuming you will stay at Winterfell?"

A faint flush appears on the young woman's face. Olenna smiles at the young love her granddaughter is feeling. She always knows her two youngest grandchildren are different. They prefer people of their sex. Olenna never has a problem with that as long they keep it subtle and don't affect the house.

"I'm no longer the beautiful, cunning girl she fell for in King's Landing." Margaery absently touches the wooden mask on her face. She frowns and stares at the air with a blank look like she is going through to her memories to see when she got that wound.

The older woman lets a loud scoff, hoping the sound can bring her granddaughter back to the present. "Dear, the Starks are loyal creatures. Once they love someone, they are devoted to love them for the rest of their life. That Stark girl experienced tragedy after tragedy in most of her life. Now she is carrying to the responsibility to take back her family's home. Of course, her walls are high up but she did love you in King's Landing. Just show her that you will be there no matter what. She will eventually warm up to you again."

Margaery looks unsure but her eyes show a glimpse of hope. "I hope you're right, grandmother."

---

Later on, at night, Olenna informed Margaery that Sansa was not the naive girl she wanted them to believe in King's Landing. The redhead knew about the Tyrells' motives to get close to her. She also knew Olenna was the one poisoned Joffery and blamed on her and Tyrion. Olenna seemed to be amused over the fact that Sansa had fooled them.

Margaery wanted to be angry at the redhead for hiding her true self but the girl was just doing what she can to survive in the lion pit. Margaery always knows there something deeper about Sansa. In King's Landing, whenever, she chatted with the girl, the pair of sad blue eyes often looked far away. Even when Sansa was looking directly at her, those eyes seemed to look right past her. On some rare occasions, the redhead would actually look at her and smiles genuinely, not the one she forced politely. The oldest Tyrell explained that Sansa is still upset over Margaery's absence after her wedding to Tyrion. Margaery winces at that piece of information, feeling warily to her plan in gaining Sansa's trust.

The next morning, Olenna left, leaving only 2,000 Tyrell soldiers and her granddaughter.

For the past few days, Margaery has been trying to find an opportunity to talk to Sansa, but every attempt to speak with the redheaded alone fails. It doesn't help when Sansa seems to be avoiding her.

She visited the Stark tent the night after her grandmother left, but the guards, in front of the entrance, informed her that Sansa had already in deep slumber and wished to not be awake. However, the tent was brightly lit up, indicating the candles were still burning inside. Margaery assumed that Sansa couldn't sleep in the dark. Since escaping from sept, Margaery was unable to sleep in the dark, reminding her too much of her days in pure darkness.

She tried again early in the morning, but Sansa had already woke up and gone on to practice drills with Brienne. Margaery took a stroll in the camp with the determination to find Sansa. Soon, she spotted a familiar redhead in the field, hitting a dummy with a wooden sword. On the side, there was Brienne and her squire sparing. They must be practicing for a while. Their clothes were damped with sweat, especially Sansa's.

Without her usual black leather dress, Sansa wore a simple gray wool shirt with a black leather pant and her hair was tied up into one simple braid. Margaery could see sweat flickering off the girl's determined face each time she swung the sword. Even though Sansa was attacking a lifeless dummy, she glared at her target like it killed her whole family. Every blow was meant to kill it. Margaery wondered who was Sansa thinking about. The Lannisters? The Freys? The Boltons? The Stark bannermen that betrayed her house? Over the years, Sansa gained a lot of enemies.

The exhausted redhead decided to take a break from the dummy to rehydrate herself. She reached for her deerskin water bag and drank greedily. A trail of water formed at the bottom of her lip down to her long neck, damping her shirt even more.

Margaery's mouth went dry, gazing greedily the sight of the redhead. She found a barrel nearby and sat down and secretly enjoyed the view. The youngest Tyrell followed the same morning routine for the next few days.

When they're on the road, Sansa is always accompanied by a handful of soldiers, chatting and laughing. The topics revolve around battles, farming, and other small occupation. The soldiers love the attention The Red Wolf giving them.

Margaery knew this tactic. She did it before with the orphans and common folks. Give them a little attention, and they will love you in return. Seeing Sansa listening attentively on whatever the soldiers were saying, Margaery didn't have the heart to interrupt them.

One bold soldier bragged about his experience in a brothel in Wintertown. Instead of disgusted by the soldier's detailed description, Sansa seemed to be interested. Surprisingly, Sansa was able to name most of the women the soldiers described.

When one man curiously asked Sansa how she knows that many whores, the redhead laughed and recalled all the times her father's ward sneaked a woman to his chamber. Whenever he almost got caught, the woman always quickly picked up all her clothes and climbed down from the window and entered her room, which was, unfortunately, right under. Too often, she had to unlock her window just in case another naked woman needs shelter and clothes.

Margaery chuckled softly, imagining young Sansa blushed and stammered her words when she first time saw a naked woman climb into her room.

After many failed attempts, Margaery becomes more and more frustrated. She thought about storm right into Sansa's tent at night and demand for the girl's time. However, she is a Tyrell, and Tyrells should have more grace and dignity than that.

Once they arrive at Riverrun, Sansa's great uncle, Lord Tully or Blackfish comes out to greet them. He walks up to Sansa and gives his great-niece a big fierce hug. The redhead smiles genuinely for the first time throughout the trip.

The Red Wolf assisted her great uncle in taking back Riverrun from the Freys and the Lannisters with the Knights of the Vale and a few small loyal Northern houses. The Freys retreated to the Twins. Before The Red Wolf and her army can attack the Twins, every single Freys are already mysteriously killed.

Sansa's uncle, Emdure Tully, who was previously captured by the Freys during The Red Wedding, is given the Twins in exchange for his rights to Riverrun. Now the Blackfish is the Lord of Riverrun, and House Tully once again allies with House Stark.

Blackfish looks over the army and frowns, "I thought there will be more soldiers."

Margaery grimaces at the Blackfish's comment. She knows eventually she going need to have an uncomfortable discussion with all the lords and ladies on why the Tyrell can only spare merely 2,000 soldiers out of 100,000.

As Margaery getting her words straight in her mind, Sansa steps in. "Let's discuss this later. I'm exhausted from traveling."

Blackfish smiles warmly, "Of course, I already told the cooks to prepare for supper."

"Much appreciated, great uncle." They walk together into the castle as the soldiers begin to set out camps. Following behind, Margaery wishes Sansa turns her head back at her so she can give her a thankful nod. Sadly, Sansa never looks back.

---

They're in a room with many lords and a few ladies of different bannermen discussing their next step.

The Tully's bannermen can only spare 300 men. They are still recovering from the Red Wedding and attacks from the Freys and Lannisters. They will need men to guard their homes if enemies from the South decide to attack.

Blackfish moves around the pieces on the Northern map as he counts how many men they have. "With 400 Starks, 300 Tullys, 2,000 Tyrells, 2,000 Arryns, and 2,000 Wildlings, we have a total of 6,700 men compared to Bolton's 6,000."

The Red Wolf observes the map and shakes her head, "Even though we have more men, winter is coming." The Stark's words bring a chill down to everyone's spine. "The Boltons have the advantage of Winterfell. They can just simply hide behind the walls and wait for us to die in the harsh winter."

Blackfish nods in agreement, "The only way for us to win is for them to meet us in the field. We need to provoke Rasmey to attack first."

"We have his son." The Red Wolf points out.

There are a few gasps from the lords and ladies then the room goes eerily quiet.

During supper, Blackfish revealed a letter from Jon. Rasmey's heavily pregnant wife, Jenye Poole escaped with Theon Greyjoy and sought shelter at Castle Black. Jon described the horrific condition they both were in. Rasmey tortured them into submission and stripped them of identity and dignity.

Shortly arrived at Castle Black, Jenye went into labor and gave birth to a baby boy. Both mother and son are safe and healthy right now. The boy is the heir of House Bolton. With Jeyne still alive, Rasmey cannot wed another woman to produce another heir. Any children he produced outside the marriage will just be a bastard like he was. Rasmey needs his son.

Sansa's lack of expression to her comment reminds Margaery of Cersei. She doesn't look scandalized or mortified like many lords in the room. She is willing to do anything to take back her family home, even risking a newborn's life. Margaery can't imagine the sweet girl, who was a child hostage of war, she met in King's Landing could ever suggest turning a child into a pawn. Margaery understands that the child could be their only leverage against Rasmey but she couldn't bear to risk a child's life.

"The child is innocent from their father's crimes," Margaery breaks the silence, "It's not honorable to use a child."

"Honorable," Sansa scoffs, "Most of my family are dead because of honors. Did the Boltons and Freys care about honors when they slaughtered my mother, brother, and his unborn child? Our enemies don't care about honors."

Margaery does not turn away under The Red Wolf's glare. She holds her head high and speaks with confidence, "We cannot stink into their level. If we dismiss honors this time, honors will mean nothing anymore in the future!"

Sansa stiffens, blooding rushing up to her face with anger. Maybe if Margaery observes closely, she can see smoke fuming on top of the girl's auburn head. Margaery starting to regret what she had done. She shouldn't challenge Sansa in front of all the important allies. People will start to question the Stark girl's honors and authority. It would be wiser to speak to Sansa in private but again, when does she have the opportunity to speak to the redhead alone. Now she has upset Sansa, it will be harder to break into the girl's wall.

Blackfish puts his hand on his great niece's shoulder, trying to calm her down, "Sansa, it's late. Let's all go to rest. We have to leave early tomorrow if we want to reach Winterfell in a week."

"You're right, great-uncle. We will continue this discussion in the future." Sansa leaves the room before Margaery gets the chance to talk to her.

---

Margaery gasps for air in the darkness, awaken by another nightmare. For a second, she thought she still locked up in the cell. She lits up a candle with her sweaty hands shaking uncontrollably. Once she sees the candle blazing with light, her racing heart begins to calm down.

She shivers against the cold breeze coming through the window. She moves to shut the window but she halts once she spots a light down at the pier on the river. Who stares at the river in the dark? Margaery looks closely at the figure next to the light and notices a tall, lean figure with the famous Tully red hair that belongs to Sansa.

This is her opportunity to speak with Sansa alone. Margaery hastily changes into her sleeveless dress, puts on her wooden mask, and rushes out the door with a lantern. Once she's outside, she curses herself for not remembering to wear a cloak or a pair of gloves. She rubs her hands over her bare arms and continues to head toward the pier.

She finally sees the redhead clearly with a lantern next to her. The other girl is wearing her usual black leather dress without any cloak or gloves. Margaery wonders how the other girl is not shivering like she is.

"Sansa," Margaery announces softly, making her presence noticeable.

"Whenever my family comes to visit Riverrun, my mother and I always watch the sunrise here, just us. It was like our little secret," Sansa smiles sadly at the river, trying to relive her memories.

Margaery doesn't say anything so Sansa continues, "When a Tully dies, their remains will be placed on a boat and sail down the river. Their descendant will fire an arrow to lit the boat into flames. Their remains will stink into the water, where they belong, like their house sigil, a trout. I used to be relieved that my mother is a Stark. Once she dies, she will be buried in the crypt with all the deceased Starks. I would be able to visit her in the crypt so she will never be truly gone."

With her back still facing the Tyrell, Sansa scowls at the river with her fists tighten, "Do the Freys and Boltons deserve to be treated with honors after they betrayed my house and mutilated my mother's and brother's remains and tossed them in the Trident River to rot?"

Margaery had met Catelyn Stark once in Renly's camp. Compared to most lady wives, Lady Stark was different. People respected Lady Stark the same amount as to her husband, Lord Stark which is something Margaery admires and even envies. Lady Stark and both Lord Starks didn't deserve to have their remains to be desecrated.

She couldn't imagine the pain and sense of loss Sansa must've felt when she heard the news. She remembers that day she was walking with the ladies in the court and spotted Sansa praying at the Godswood. She ignored the urge to comfort the redhead and just kept walking and smiling with her companions. Margaery's eyes redden and her hands clench into her dress, feeling ashamed and angry at herself for abandoning the redhead.

"I-I'm s-sorry," Margaery reaches out to hold the redhead's hand to give her overdue comfort, hoping Sansa doesn't notice her stuttering. Immediately, she feels the warmth from the other person's hand.

The redhead lets out a small gasp, turns around, and notices the youngest Tyrell's shivering state. Embarrassed by her cold hands, Margaery pulls back her hand but Sansa holds on to it.

"You're freezing." Sansa uses her free hand to reach out for her other freezing hand and gently rub their hands together to bring back warmth into them. "What are you doing out here without the proper attire? Let's go back inside."

"I-I n-need t-to speak with y-you. A-alone," Margaery is unable to stop her teeth from clattering loudly.

Still rubbing her hands, Sansa tugs her hands to lead her away from the river. "We can talk inside, near the fire."

At that moment, a shimmering light appears at the end of the river. "No, wait! The sun is rising."

The pair stops and watches the sun rises from the river, covering them with mild warmth. Margaery is completely mesmerized by the beautiful scenery.

"Breathtaking as always," Sansa compliments.

Margaery turns around, and she finds Sansa's soft eyes staring at her. Under her gaze, the youngest Tyrell blushes, unsure if those words were meant for her or the view.

"Come on, let's go back," While still holding one of her hands, Sansa leads her back into the castle.

---

In the castle, the shivering and clattering stop but the air is still far too cold to Margaery's comfort. They climb up the stairs and walk through the quiet hall, occasionally one or two night guards stop to greet them. Soon, they reach Sansa's room.

Sansa leads her to the two wooden chairs facing the fireplace. To Margaery's dismay, Sansa lets go of her hand to start the fire. Within moments, the room brightens by the fire. Margaery can feel the heat from the fire is warming up her southron blood.

The youngest Tyrell's lips curl up into a smile, "Sansa, I must say I'm impressed."

Satisfied with the blazing flames, Sansa wipes her hands with a nearby cloth. "One of the first things every child must learn in the North is to start a fire." Margaery watches the redhead walks to the table against the wall. The girl picks up a wine jar and pours the liquid into two cups. Then she walks back and hands one of the cups to Margaery. "Here. It'll keep you warm."

Margaery takes the cup, smiling appreciatively. Sansa sits down on the chair across her, taking a small sip from her cup. Ever since seeing Sansa in the Sept, Margaery has been wanting to talk to the girl in private. She waited for days for an opportunity. Now the redhead is sitting across her, granting Margaery an audience with her. Margaery gulps the wine heartily, hoping to gain confidence for the upcoming conversation.

She looks solemnly at the girl, "I'm sorry."

"You already said you're sorry."

Margaery winces at those words. She needs to remind herself that Sansa is not a lord or lady that she needs to coerce with flowery words. She needs to get to the point. Clenching the wooden cup tightly, she chuckles dryly, "I have a lot to be sorry for."

She looks at the redhead's blank face, staring at her, giving nothing away. In King's Landing, the girl always looking so sad or acting so passive. At least during that time, Margaery could read the girl's minimal facial expression. Margaery sighs, "I'm sorry for what happened to you and your family. I'm sorry for getting to close to you for connection to the North. I'm sorry for abandoning you after your wedding with Lord Tyrion. I'm sorry f-"

"As far as I know, House Tyrell did nothing that leads to my house's downfall. You were just doing your duty to befriend me. After my marriage to Tyrion, I'm no longer useful to you and your house. It's understandable you left."

Margaery is never one for violence. She is never interested in causing anyone physical harm, but seeing Sansa being so impassive, Margaery suddenly has the urge to slap some emotions into the girl. She rather Sansa screams or yells at her than hearing how her cruel actions are justifiable. She wants to see anger or disappointment.

"It's not. I admit, in the beginning, I planned to befriend you for the benefit of my house, but I never expect to be completely swept away by you. Soon being your friend became more important to me than my duty. Seeing your smile gives me more joy than being queen. I finally feel the joy that the songs described when I'm with you. Your marriage with Tyrion brought me back to reality. I can't have you, so I made a terrible choice to forget about you and focus on becoming the queen."

Margaery never feels this exposed in her life, not even when she is locked up in the Sept. The warm pool of wine in her stomach can't calm her nerves. The only thing stopping her hands from shaking is the cup she is clasping on too tightly.

"You left."

"I left," she confirms dejectedly.

Her eyes widen, not daring to blink, scared the tear she is holding on desperately will fall. Before Margaery can say anything, a knock from the door startles both of them.

"It's me, Lady Sansa."

Hearing her protector's voice puts Sansa back at ease, "Come in, Brienne."

Lady Brienne walks into the room, quickly notices Margaery's disheartened look. "Lady Margaery," The lady knight greets.

"Lady Brienne," Margaery nods back.

Lady Brienne turns to Sansa, "My lady, your great-uncle wants to speak with you."

"I shouldn't keep my great-uncle waiting," Sansa stands up and places her wooden cup on the seat, leading Margaery to do the same. "Lady Margaery, I'll see you outside."

Margaery nods and Sansa exits her room with Lady Brienne behind her.

After Sansa left, Margaery returns to her room to get ready for departure. She sits down in front of the mirror and gently takes off the wooden mask on the cheek. The flaming redness is gone, leaving a small area of ragged skin. She can feel her skin tingling when the cold air hits her sensitive wound. Her finger carefully traces the rough lines of the wound with the ointment that the maester gave her. Unfortunately, there will be a scar but the ointment can help close the wound better and prevent infection. She made sure she isn't using the same ointment that the hound used for his burnt wound. She wants the scar to be as faint as possible, remembering Sansa's disgusted face towards Tyrion's battle scar.

By the time she puts back the mask, she is ready to go. She knew they're only staying at Riverrun for one night so she left most of her belongings in the carriage. Before stepping out the door, she puts on a thin cloak and a pair of gloves, knowing the weather will only get harsher as they march north. When she exits her room, there's already a Tyrell soldier standing outside, ready to greets her and escorts her to the camp for breakfast with her troops.

Without any prior military experience, Margaery spends most of the trip learning from experienced soldiers. She knows during the actual battle she will be on the side watching her men fight, but during the meeting, she wants to fully understand the battle strategies.

During the middle of the meal, Lady Brienne's squire, Podrick stops by, carrying a black fur cloak. "Lady Margaery, Lady Sansa asked me to inform you that we will leave within a candle. She also wants me to deliver this to you. The weather is only going to get colder, and none of the southron cloaks is suitable for the North weather. Lady Sansa wants you to have this fur cloak, hopes it'll keep you warm."

Margaery smiles and takes the heavy fur cloak from the squire, feeling a spark of hope at mending her relationship with the redhead. She unfolds the cloak, admiring the beautiful stitches that she is confident is Sansa's handwork. Margaery takes off her thin southron cloak and puts on Sansa's fur cloak. It immediately warms up her whole body. She inhales deeply into the cloak, pleased to find Sansa's scent still lingers in the cloak.

"Lady Margaery?" The squire is still standing there, waiting for her response.

Margaery smiles sheepishly, "My men are ready for departure. Tell Sansa, I'm grateful for her kindness. And Podrick, thank you for delivering this."

"Of course," Podrick nods.

---

On the road, Sansa isn't surrounded by eager soldiers. She rides next to Blackfish, discussing something quietly. Soon Sansa catches Margaery staring at her. She whispers something to Blackfish before guiding her horse towards Margaery's direction.

"Last night, a raven arrived. Ramsey requested a parley," Sansa rides next to her for the first time, "I already sent a raven back, accepting his request."

Margaery feels delighted that Sansa strikes up a conversation with her, but she also feels disappointed that Sansa didn't even ask for her opinion before accepting the parley.

"What do you think?" Sansa tilts her head, looking at her, genuinely wanting to know her opinion on the situation, but that question was a couple of candles too late.

"You're doing the right thing. Meeting him gives us a chance to directly provoke him," Margaery answers truthfully.

The redhead's eyebrows furrow into a frown. "But you're upset."

Margaery is baffled by Sansa's bluntness. "You made an important decision before notifying me. "

"You did the same."

"I know." The Tyrell says quietly, feeling dejected again. The accusing words that came out of the redhead are sharp and hurtful.

The tension builds up into an uncomfortable silence. They continue to ride together, listening to nearby soldiers chattering.

The redhead huffs in annoyance, "I can't promise I will talk to you about everything but I'll try to consult you before I make any major decisions in the future."

Margaery's heart swells. Sansa is willing to compromise for her. Most importantly, she sees her in her future. Margaery smiles brightly, "I appreciate that. And I want to thank you for this fur cloak."

Sansa's eyes narrow down at the black fur cloak the Tyrell is wearing. "Is it warm?"

Margaery nods.

"Good."

For the rest of the day, they continue riding side by side in comfortable silence.

---

It took them another week of traveling to reach Winterfell. They joined the camp that Jon Snow set up near the castle. At first, there is some heavy tension between the soldiers and the Wildlings, but after a few rough arguments, the camp is roaring with men laughing, drinking, and singing. The morale is high.

When Margaery approaches to Sansa's tent, she hears the redhead speaks softly, "Trust me, Jon. I know what I'm doing."

Before Margaery can find out what's going, Jon walks out of the tent with a bitter look on his brooding face. When she first saw Jon, she wondered if brooding runs deep in Stark blood. Inside the tent, Sansa is distracting herself with a cup of wine. Seeing the siblings brooding simultaneously amuses Margaery.

"He left rather angrily."

"I commanded him to stay at the camp tomorrow," The redhead pours herself another cup of wine. Margaery reminds herself to scold Tyrion if she ever going to see him in the future. Sansa has picked up a few bad habits from her previous lord husband.

"Why?" Jon has the experience being the lord commander of the Night's Watch, and he is the one allies with the Wildlings. He has all the reasons to be at the parley.

"Because I'm going to say some not nice things and I don't want to hurt him."

"You don't want him to participate because you're afraid to hurt his feeling?"

"Yes. I know it sounds ridiculous."

Margaery scoffs and gives the redhead a pointed look.

Sansa takes another sip of her wine and begins her reasons, "I used to hate him for causing my mother so much grief. I said a lot of horrible things to hurt him when we were growing up. Now he is one of the few family members I have left. He is my brother, and I don't want to hurt him anymore."

When they reached the camp, Sansa quickly dismounted her horse and rushed to the man with long curly black hair. Once the man noticed Sansa running to him, he stopped whatever he was doing and ran to meet her in the middle. Sansa jumped right into Jon Snow's arms. Even though there were tears in her eyes, she smiled genuinely for the second time. There is no doubt Sansa loves her brother.

Margaery reaches for Sansa's other free hand and holds it gently, hoping to bring some kind of comfort to the redhead. "He'll forgive you."

---

It's windy up in the northern hill. Margaery can feel her face turning numb by the strong wind. She's glad at least her body is protected by the fur cloak. It's still a big mystery to her that other lords and ladies don't seem to be bothered by the cold.

"Queen Margaery," Rasmey greets politely.

If Margaery hadn't heard about the horrifying stories about him, she would've underestimated him as a simple man. "My marriage with King Tommen is annulled. I'm no longer your Queen."

"Aye! I've heard that Lady Sansa has gotten you quite smitten," Rasmey's smile grows bigger, looking more sinister, showing his true color. He looks at Sansa, "Lady Sansa, you are truly as beautiful as my beloved wife described. My wife is quite smitten for you as well. I must admit I was quite jealous when I heard both my wife and my heir are currently under your care."

Margaery's eyes widen. She is fine to be called the disgraced queen that is smitten over the Stark girl. At least this will let Sansa know that the Tyrell won't turn her back on her ever again. What shocked her is the relationship between Sansa and Jeyne. Of course, Ramsey's words cannot be trusted but Margaery can't help to have an uneasy feeling inside her. She sneaks a glance at Sansa, who is looking unbothered by Ramsey's remarks.

Hearing no response from Sansa, Rasmey crooks his head in confusion to letting out a loud sigh in disappointment. He chuckles lightheartedly, "I see you're not one for conversation. How about this? Surround, hand me back my wife and heir, and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and I'll give you back your little brother and forget what happened. Maybe on special occasions, I'll lend my beloved wife to you." He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"But you're a bastard," The Red Wolf said bluntly, completely ignoring the last part of the deal.

Sansa clearly hits Ramsay's nerve. Ramsay flinches and his whole playful demeanor becomes darker and more serious, then he laughs forcibly with his eyes looking at Sansa wildly. "Lady Sansa, you must have mistaken. King Tommen legitimized-"

"Tommen Baratheon? Another bastard." Ramsay's jaws tighten as Sansa continues, "You can never be Warden of North. You can never be Lord of Winterfell. You can never be Lord Bolton. You will always just be a bastard, a Snow."

Margaery finally understands why Sansa doesn't want Jon to be here. Rasmey's weakness is being a bastard, and Sansa is reminding him of that. Even though Jon has embraced being a bastard all his life, Sansa doesn't want her brother to think his illegitimate birth still a problem between them.

"Lady Sansa, let me remind you that I have you little bother," Rasmey grabs a bag on his horse's side and tosses it on to the ground, a direwolf's head rolls in front of them.

Sansa stares fiercely at the direwolf. Margaery remembers Sansa mentioned every Stark child owned a direwolf, even Jon. The bond between a Stark and a direwolf is sacred and can't be broken. When Sansa lost her direwolf, Lady, she described feeling a piece of her torn away and she never recovers from that.

Rasmey notices Sansa's harden look. He smiles gleefully, "I remember when your brother dies, the Frey replaces his head with his direwolf's head. I heard it suits him. Maybe little Rickon will look as good with his he-"

"Lord Snow," Sansa scowls dangerously at the man in front of her, "You will die tomorrow. Sleep well."

On that note, Sansa rides off the hill back to the camp.

---

After the parley with Ramsay, Margaery visited Sansa's tent to check if she's okay. Behind her desk, the redhead is writing something on a parchment paper with a large jar of wine sitting nearby. Margaery peers into the jar and finds it's nearly empty unlike the half-full cup next to it. Margaery sits on the spare chair across Sansa and takes the cup away off the desk.

"It helps me think." Sansa looks up and huffs with annoyances.

"We both know it's not true," Margaery finishes the rest of the wine inside the cup and puts it back on the desk. "What are you going to do with them?"

Jon brought Jenye and her son, Vayon with him to the camp. They're staying in a tent with soldiers always outside. They are not allowed to leave the tent under any circumstances. Guards will bring the mother and the newborn child food and other necessities.

Sansa lays on her chair with her hands clasped together in front of her. "After this battle, they'll return to Castle Black. Vayon will grow up to be a sworn brother. He can never wed or born son. The traitorous Bolton bloodline ends with him. Jenye will be there with him to clean or to cook for the men there."

Margaery's eyebrow raises, "Having a woman and a child in a castle fills with thieves, murderers, and rapists?"

"She'll be protected. Anyone that even dares to touch her inappropriately will be punished by death. I'll make sure the new Lord Commander understands that."

"Who is she to you?"

Sansa sighs and reaches for the jar on the edge of the table. She pours the remaining content into the cup, only filling a quarter. Margaery wants to protest but Sansa holds her finger up, ordering her to be quiet. Margaery remains quiet but, disapprovingly, she watches Sansa gulps the rest of the wine.

After the younger girl finishes her drink, she relaxes back on her chair. "Jeyne Poole is the steward's daughter. We grew up together in Winterfell. She was my dearest friend." Sansa laughed humorlessly, "God, we were so naive and innocent back then. We shared innocent kisses with an excuse to 'practice.' We quickly caught on what between us but we didn't stop."

So Ramsay wasn't lying. Margaery always knows that she wasn't the first girl Sansa kissed. Back in King's Landing, when she first kissed the sweet girl, Sansa was surprised but not scandalous, unlike other ladies she had been with. It was a beautiful day. She invited Sansa for an afternoon tea, then she watched the girl's sad face beams at every bite of the lemon cake that Margaery strictly ordered. After all the lemon cake was eaten, they took a stroll at the garden with Margaery hooked around the redhead's arm. The future queen managed to shoo away the guards so they could spend some time alone.

Everything was perfect. They were surrounded by beautiful flowers. It was sunny with a bit of breeze from the port. Margaery recalled a comical time of her childhood, and Sansa laughed. It was a beautiful laugh. Margaery was completely captivated by Sansa's big smile. This is what Sansa looks like when she's happy, Margaery thought. Slowly, she leaned in and their lips touched. At that moment, Margaery felt a surge of happiness inside her buzzing every nerve of her body. Sansa didn't pull away so Margaery deepened the kiss. Amusingly, Sansa tasted like lemon cake.

When they finally pulled away for air, Margaery was prepared to see fear or disgust in the other girl's face instead she saw a surprised Sansa with a small goofy grin. Margaery grinned back, couldn't help her lips curling up further. Loras once told her that when he first kissed Renly, he felt like every burden placed on his shoulder has vanished. Margaery at that time just scoffed as her brother dreamily reminiscing the kiss. Now she finally understood. When she was with Sansa, she didn't feel the crushing weight of keeping House Tyrell strong or becoming the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She felt happy and peaceful, for the first time in her life.

"I hated her once. She made me feel different. I desperately wished to be normal and get away from Winterfell, from her. When the king proposed a marriage between the prince and me, I was ecstatic. My wish came true. I thought being engaged to Joffery I would feel normal, but I was just a fool," Sansa covers her face with her hand and laughs loudly.

Margaery can see how the redhead is in distress. Her whole body is shaking as the laughter turns into silent cries. Margaery reaches over the desk to comfort the girl, but she winces when Sansa flinches away from her touch. Sansa quickly puts her hands down onto the arms of the chair and puts on her stoic face again.

"It doesn't matter now. I'm no longer the girl she knew. I've changed so did she." She looks at her solemnly.

Margaery isn't sure if those words are meant for her or Jeyne. She knows Sansa changed a lot after she fled King's Landing but so did she. She used to be an ambitious player in the game, but now all she wants is to be with the redhead. She doesn't care how much Sansa changed as long she can still feel the unexplainable happiness buzzing inside her whenever she sees the redhead.

Sansa gets off the chair and walks over to the entrance of the tent. "It's late. You should rest, after all, tomorrow is a big day."

Taking the hint, Margaery bids the girl good night and leaves the tent.

A young boy with curly blank hair stands next to Rasmey, across the field. Rasmey whispers something into the boy's ear, and the boy starts running straight at them.

"It's Rickon," Jon says, ready to command his horse to march forward. Before he can move an inch, Sansa holds onto his forearm, restraining him. "What are you doing? It's Rickon!" He looks at Sansa and to Rickon and back at Sansa hopelessly.

"Jon," Sansa shakes her head in defeat, "Do you really think Ramsay will let Rickon run back into our arms? Ramsay will shoot an arrow onto his back once he sees you near him. Then he'll shoot another arrow onto your back. Can't you see this is part of his plan? Rickon is just a bait."

He can easily shove Sansa's hand off but seeing her blue eyes redden with tears, he doesn't move. He clenches his fists tightly on the horse rein. "But he's our little brother." His voice quivers in desperation.

"I know, and we will avenge him," Sansa promises, still holding onto him, scared he'll ride forward into Ramsay's trap.

Ramsay yawns in boredom. A skinny woman with long dark brown hair hands a bow to him. Ramsay pulls the string, testing how far he can go. Then he takes an arrow from the skinny woman and shuts his right eye. Aiming at the sky, he shoots.

Sansa and Jon hold onto their breath as they watch the arrow misses Rickon by a few feet.

Ramsay shrugs and takes another arrow from the woman and shoots again. This time the arrow misses the boy by a foot. Sansa and Jon still holding their breath, watching their little brother running closer and closer to them, knowing he will never make it.

Ramsay stretches his arms and wriggles his hands. He takes another arrow from the woman and shoots. The arrow flies up into the air and lands right into Rickon's left calve. The youngest trueborn son of Eddard Stark falls onto the dirt with his face down. Unable to walk, he uses every bit of his strength crawling towards his brother and sister. He didn't crawl far when another arrow pierces into him right in the back of his head.

Sansa and Jon watch their little brother's body gives one last twitch before he goes completely still. She releases her brother's forearm. Sansa fixes her harden tearful eyes at Ramsey who is grinning widely at them. She asks for an arrow from her great-uncle who gives it to her without any question.

Sansa ties a note that she prepares the night before onto an arrow then she hands the arrow back to the older man. Holding onto a giant bow, Blackfish pulls the string as far as he can, facing the sky. When he lets go, the arrow springs across the field, landing a few feet away from Ramsay's horse.

A soldier goes and picks the note up. Ramsay gives the man an impatient look, urging the man to read the note. Whatever that note says, Ramsay doesn't like it. He takes an arrow from the same woman and shoots it into the soldier's face. He scowls directly at Sansa. Then he marches forward with his six thousand men.

Near the end of the battle, the Ramsay and a few of his men retreat into the castle. Before they can shut the gate, a Wildling giant kicks the gate wild open. Knowing he has lost the battle, Ramsay shoots whatever arrows he has left at Jon who is marching fiercely forward with a shield.

Once Jon is close enough, he rams the shield across Ramsay's pale face. Both bastards drop onto the ground with Jon on top. In a fury, Jon repeatedly plants his fist into Ramsay's bloodied face. Soldiers, on the side, are cheering at each punch. The cheer gets loud as more soldiers come through the broken gate.

Sansa enters the gate with two soldiers carrying the youngest Stark on a litter. The edge of her eyes is puffy and swollen from crying. Her face is flushed with tear stains. She gives her little brother one last kiss on the forehead before intervenes Jon's rampage. "Jon, stop."

He can't hear her. He continues smashing his fist.

"JON!" This time Jon stops. Sansa places her hand onto her brother's shoulder to calm him down. Jon looks up and glances at the litter. "He doesn't deserve an easy death."

Jon nods and gets off Ramsay. He goes over to the litter to look at his dead little brother.

Sansa stays and examines the man underneath who is still breathing despite his face is swollen beyond recognition. She orders some men to bring Ramsay to the kennel before she enters her childhood home with Jon by her side.

Margaery wants to go with Sansa to support her but she figures it isn't her place. Right now Sansa needs to be with someone familiar with this place and understand the pain of losing another family member. Instead, Margaery decides to check on her men outside in the battleground.

Thankfully, they only lost a small fraction of men compared to the Boltons. As Margaery looking to see if anyone of her men injured in the field, she finds the soldier that Ramsay shot down. The soldier is still holding onto the note that Sansa wrote. She has to pry the man's hand open to get to that parchment paper. It has some blood smudges but the writing is still readable. You can't run away from who you are, Bastard.

Margaery asks one of her guards for a torch. She burns the note before it can fall into someone's possession. Lords with not good intention can show Jon this note to create distrust between the siblings. Sansa probably never wants Jon to see this note even though it just a bait to provoke Ramsay.

The night comes, men are still celebrating their victory with songs, ales, and women that came from Wintertown. Margaery only has seen the redhead during the celebration dinner. After Sansa gave a victory speech, she quietly excused herself before Margaery noticed.

The youngest Tyrell concludes it's time to check on Sansa. She walks around Winterfell, asking happy drunk soldiers if they have seen the redhead. Unlike the castles in the South, Winterfell is dull and old, with minimal decoration. Everything here is so practical. One of the perks is the gray-stone walls are warm despite the cold outside.

She wants to visit the famous glass garden that grows winter roses. One of the gardeners in Highgarden once told her that he had seen the winter rose and it is the most captivating flower in the Seven Kingdoms. None of the colorful pretty flowers in Highgarden can even hold a candle against the winter roses. Unfortunately, they only can grow in the Winterfell so Margaery has never seen one before. Sadly, none of the guards here seem to know what she's talking about.

After getting lost multiple times, Margaery finds the familiar tall blond lady knight standing outside the dog kennel. There's a thin layer of snow on top of the blond hair. She must be there for quite a while. If Brienne is guarding a mere dog kennel, Sansa must be inside. When she approaches the entrance, Brienne stops her. "My lady, Lady Sansa and her brother strictly order to not be disturbed."

Before Margaery can protest, she hears a man screaming inhumanely, following with loud dog barks. The cries of pain slowly dies down into wheezing then to gurgling, eventually to silence.

Margaery's eyes widen in horror. She remembers the familiar sounds of Joffery's victims dying slowly with a crossbow arrow in their throat. They first scream in pain then wheeze for air. Joffery's favorite part was when they gurgle in their own blood. That sadistic king always in a better mood after he tortured someone to their death.

Unfortunately, Margaery often accompanied him as an audience and sometimes a culprit. She never enjoys the gore but she still smiled in interest and clapped in excitement whenever Joffery grinned at her with satisfaction of his work.

One time, in the king's bed-chamber, Joffery stood behind her with his arms wrapped around hers, holding the crossbow in front of her. A scandalously-dressed young woman, probably a whore, was cowering against the king's bed frame, begging them to spare her life. There were bruises and cuts all over her smooth skin that Joffery inflicted before the Tyrell entered his chamber.

Margaery could feel Joffery's cruel smile against her cheek. She forced her lips to curl up into teasing smirk as he guided her finger against the trigger. "Go on," he said breathlessly. She looked at the woman's pleading eyes and said a silent prayer for her before applying pressure on the trigger. The arrow shot right into the woman's throat instantly. She watched the woman's tearful eyes go dull and lifeless, still looking at her. Margaery wanted to vomit, but instead, she turned around and grinned at the boy king who was laughing gleefully.

Sansa comes out from the dark kennel with the familiar satisfied grin on her face. Her eyes are big and wild, pupils blown with excitement. Behind her, Jon looks a bit disturbed.

"What are you doing here?" Sansa's voice is light and carefree unlike her usual serious voice. She's in a good mood.

Margaery's eyes go from the redhead to the darkness of the kennel and back to the redhead. She can hear the hounds tearing apart wet flesh and crunching down bones. "N-nothing," she grabs her trembling hand with her other trembling hand underneath the fur cloak Sansa gifted her, "I want to bid you a good night, Sansa." Before Sansa can say anything, she turns and walks back to her room.

She hears faintly Sansa informing a soldier that the hounds are fed for tonight.

For the first time, Margaery is afraid of Sansa.

---

Three days have passed. Everything once associated with the Boltons is gone. The few remaining Bolton soldiers were given the choice to either join the brotherhood in Castle Black or be flayed like their dead lord's ideology. Not a single men were loyal to their dead lord to choose the latter. The armors and weapons the Bolton soldiers wore were melted and reused by the loyal soldiers. The clothes left behind by the Boltons sent to the small folks to prepare them for the upcoming harsh winter. With Jenye's and her son, Vayon's departure in the morning, not a trace of House Bolton is left behind.

During these three days, Margaery busied herself with her troops. Many have fallen ill in the freezing weather, focusing them to isolate themselves from the rest of the northern men. When the men stop drinking and singing together, an uneasy tension rises between the southron soldiers and the northern soldiers. Different cultures and religions clash, leading to many heated fights. Margaery has sent some Dornish wine to the northern troops to propose a truce but the northerners suspected the wine was poisoned and refused to accept, which made the situation worse.

Margaery sits next to the lords that fought alongside her men in the great hall. She needs to get these northern lords like her, in order to resolve the tension between their troops. The men will act more civilly if they see their leaders being friendly to each other. She tries to charm her way through the crowd but unlike the highborns in King's Landing, northerners are not easy to please. They always have a serious, distrust in their eyes, reminding her of Sansa.

Saving her from the awkward meal, the Red Wolf walks in with her brother and her devoted protector on each side. Everyone quiets down, watching the siblings sit down at the large wooden table, facing them. Lady Brienne excuses herself to sit at the table nearest to the redhead.

She hasn't seen interact with the redhead after that night. She wants to figure out the fears she felt first before facing the redhead. Avoiding Sansa is easy since the other girl seems to be doing the same thing. She still watches the redhead train every morning and bumps into her once awhile in the castle. Other than polite greetings, they haven't talk.

In the early morning after the battle, Sansa summoned all the lords under the Stark's bannermen to the great hall of Winterfell. This time every lord from the northern houses came. Even the houses that refused to aid the Starks in the battle with the Boltons showed up in the great hall.

Jon wants the lords to bring all their men to Winterfell to prepare for the battle with the Night King, White Walkers, and the deads. Margaery recalled her nan telling her stories of the White Walkers kidnapping disobedient children to force them to join the army of the deads. She was afraid for awhile until her grandma scoffed and explained to her that those stories only use it to scare children and nothing more. If Jon and the Wildings aren't looking so serious and Sansa isn't looking at her brother with so much trust, Margaery will laugh along with all the other lords.

Sansa slams down her cup onto the wooden table causing everyone to stop and look at her blue eyes glaring unassumingly at them. Jon sends the redhead an appreciative nod and continues on what he witnessed beyond the wall. After countless affirmations from other Night Watch brothers and Wildlings, many lords are starting to believe the existence of the army of the dead, but they aren't willing to aid the battle out of the fear of losing more men. They want to return home and prepare for the upcoming winter.

Lady Mormont, a young girl steps up in front of the older lords. Amusingly, she calls out the lords' cowardice and disloyalty for not answering to call to fight in the battle with the Boltons. Margaery admires how Lady Mormont putting lords that are older and bigger than her into shame and guilt. Then suddenly this little girl declares Jon as the King in the North.

As all the men pull out their swords and chide in, calling Jon the King in the North, Margaery focuses on Sansa. Margaery can't tell if Sansa is pleased or unhappy about the decision. The redhead smiles at her brother but it doesn't reach her eyes. In all fairness, Jon looks like he wants to run away from all the lords.

Every house in the bannermen pledges loyalty to House Stark and the King in the North. Since the lords of two traitorous houses that fought with the enemies died in the battle, the heirs of House Karstark and House Umber step up and beg for forgiveness and vow that their house will continue to serve House Stark as long there's still a Stark in the North.

Sansa wanted to strip the Karstarks and Umbers off their lordships and ancestral lands as punishment for treason, but Jon refused to break faith with the two old houses because some sons made bad decisions. Sansa argued that treason must be punished and loyalty must be rewarded, but Jon said his decision is final. Margaery could see Sansa's jaws clenched as she settled back to her chair in defeat. She rolled her eyes in annoyance as Jon told the heirs to pledge loyalty to House Stark again.

When the subject of free folks comes, many lords protest on the Wildlings settlement in the north of the wall. The loudest among the protest is Lord Glover who has been glancing snidely her the whole time.

"Your father and I fought the Tyrell army in the rebellion and the Wildlings beyond the wall. Now you brought them into the castle walls and allowed them to sit with other honorable northern lords! I'm not going to just sit here and to be humiliated by some little girl and some bastard!"

"Lord Glover, I am not your little girl and my brother is your king." Sansa's words bring a coldness into the warm hall. Despite there is a large crowd of men, the hall falls into silence. Nobody speaks or moves. Her cold eyes bore onto Lord Glover as she continues. "Even though your house had pledged to serve House Stark for centuries and yourself had fought alongside my father, in the time of need, you spat at me and said 'House Stark is dead.' House Tyrell and the Wildlings brought their men to our aid while you slept in your warm bed dreaming about the glory days. So tell me, my lord, right now, what rights do you have to insult my brother and me?"

Blood flushes onto Lord Glover's face. He sneers, "You're just like your brother, smitten over some foreign whores."

"Lord Glover," Jon intervenes in a low warning voice.

The Red Wolf's face hardens. "Careful now, Lord Glover. My brother may be a man of mercy, but if you disrespect my house again, I won't be as merciful."

"I don't need you false mercy, little girl! You fucked her, didn't you? You fucked a whore just like your brother."

Out of respect, the redhead looks at her brother the King for permission. Jon nods in approval. The Red Wolf stands up from her chair and her guards immediately hold onto Lord Glover. They go outside to the yard of Winterfell with lords and ladies following them behind.

The guards slam Lord Glover's large body onto a tree stump. Jon grabs his sword but Sansa stops him. Lady Brienne walks through the lords and hands the redhead her sword. Sansa sends her protector a grateful look as stands tall over the struggling Lord Glover. Everyone knows what going to happen next, yet no one pleads for him.

"I offered you mercy but you continued to disrespect my house. I, Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark sentence you to die. Any last word, my lord?"

"The three southron kings she fucked are dead. You will be soon joining them with your face buries so deep into her cu-"

Before he can finish, a sword buries into his neck. A splash of blood flew across the girl's face. With a grunt, The Red Wolf pulls the sword out of his neck and swings it again. She repeats the actions a few more times until the blade goes through and the head drops into the snow with a faint thud.

Margaery has witnessed many public executions in her time with Joffery. When the man's head dropped, the crowd would always cheer. This execution feels different. No one is cheering or grinning happily. Everyone in the yard stares solemnly at the fallen head. Sansa doesn't smile or frown. She sighs and simply just ask for a rag to wipe off the blood which Lady Brienne quickly obliges.

"Send a raven to the heir of House Glover."

So it's true.

Shortly after taken control of Riverlands, Sansa she exposed Lord Baelish's treachery in the great hall of Riverrun. The Red Wolf followed her father's motto "The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." She passed the death sentence and personally decapitated Lord Baelish with many houses as witnesses.

---

Even though the fireplace is blazing with flames, the room is still cold. Her nights in the castle, Margaery had to wrap herself inside the cloak with a rough blanket on top to keep herself warm. However, that night, there were other things that keep her from sleeping. Whenever she closed her eyes, images of the sadistic boy king reappeared often accompanied with a tall redhead next to him, both laughing sinisterly.

Margaery sits as close to the fire as possible with the cloak serves as a blanket, enjoying the last cup of Dorish wine before heading to the bed. Tonight she'll sleep. Tomorrow she'll talk to Sansa, and everything will be alright again.

A knock on the door breaks her chain of thoughts. Margaery opens the door with the cloak wraps tightly around her.

"Sansa."

Sansa stands outside of her door, wearing a thin fur cloak. She doesn't look like the woman with a cruel smile in her dream. She looks like her Sansa. The one that beams at every bite of lemon cake, laughs at her every joke, snuggle close her in King's Landing.

"Margaery."

She waits for Sansa to enter the room before closing the door. Who knows is listening in the hallway.

"What are you doing here so late?"

"I want to see if you're okay. I haven't seen you that much after the battle."

"I have been busy with the troops. My men are still not used to the weather in the North." Technically she is not lying. Her southron men are indeed struggling with the cold.

Sansa sees through her half-truth. She stares down at her like a mother waiting for their child to tell her the truth.

If Margaery wants to stay, she needs to be truthful, especially when Sansa is just starting to let down her wall on her. She sighs, "I saw him that night when you walked out of the dog kennel with a grin."

"By him, you mean Joffery," Sansa says bitterly. Her shoulder slouches downward in disappointment.

Margaery quickly closes the distance between them and takes hold of the other girl's hands. She feels a little less cold with another person reflecting heats onto her. "Yes, your actions frightened me that night," Margaery admits, "but, deep inside, I know you will never hurt me. I understand there are certain unpleasant things that must be done. There are good reasons for your actions. You don't do it for fun and entertainment. You are not him."

"How could you say that? I remember seeing fear in your eyes and your hands were trembling under the cloak that night. What if one day, I reminded you too much of him and you are too frightened to be near me?"

"I spent many moons in a dungeon afraid not to see you again. I can handle being scared by you once in a while, but I don't think I can handle being away from you again." She spent months in the dungeon, thinking about the redhead mostly. At some points in the darkness, she mourned for not be able to see Sansa again. Sometimes she would curse herself for giving up on Sansa in King's Landing. Now Sansa is here. She won't waste her second chance to be with the redhead.

Margaery grips tighter onto Sansa's hands. She realizes Sansa had grown taller, almost half a head taller than her. She tilts her head up, catching the redhead is staring at her. Her lips unconsciously curl upward. She tiptoes and leans in. She can hear the other girl's breath hitches as their lips touch.

Something familiar ignited inside Margaery. She can feel the pleasant buzzing in every part of her body again. She forgets all the unpleasant things that ever happened to her. She only wants to focus on the girl in front of her. By the gods, she misses this feeling.

To her surprise, the tall redhead takes advantage and slips her hands away from her hold. Instead of pushing her away, Sansa pulls her against her larger frame and deepens the kiss. Margaery couldn't help but place her now free hands under the thin fur cloak, feeling the pleasant heat.

When they finally pull away, their faces are flushed with the lack of air. Their hands are still wrapped around each other. Margaery smiles teasingly, "Not bad after so long."

Margaery winces when the arms around her drop and the body of heat pull away after her comment. However, her teasing smile turns into a smug smirk once she sees the stoic Red Wolf blushes shyly, stammering nonsense. Margaery draws the girl back and gives her a quick peck on the lips. She's glad to know that she can still tease her sweet girl.

Still a little flushed, the redhead looking down at her cloak with confusion, "Are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, no. My room is just too cold."

"Why didn't you tell me? I can get you another room."

"I don't want to be a bother. I'm fine with sleeping with the cloak."

"Nonsense. Come with me. We'll find you a warmer room."

Sansa begins walking without waiting for an answer. Margaery reluctantly follows the redhead. With the extra courage she gained from the kisses, Margaery slips her hand into the redhead's hand beside her. None of them said anything as they just continue walking through the dark halls.

After a short walk, Sansa leads her into a room in the middle of the hallway. Inside, Margaery immediately feels the comfortable heat coming off from the floor. The room is larger than her previous room. Unlike the rest of the castle, the room is decorated with paintings and flowers similar to the ones in Highgarden.

"My father made this room for my mother when they wedded. The room is built on top of the hot spring so it's the warmest part of the castle. The servants insisted me to take this room after we took back Winterfell. Now it's yours."

"Sansa, I can't take this. It was your parents' room. Where are you going to rest?"

"I'll go back to my old room."

Suddenly an idea sparks into her. "How about we share the room?"

Sansa shakes her head, "People will talk. Lord Glover isn't the only one who hates southroners." The last thing Sansa needs is to hear rumors spread that she seduced her into giving up her parents' room then the North.

"There will always be rumors," Margaery steps closer, looking up with her big brown eyes. "Just for one night. You can go back to your old room if you feel uncomfortable."

Sansa nods in agreement. Smiles gleefully, she rewards the redhead with another peck on the lips. To her delight, Sansa slips out a small smile.

Margaery takes off her cloak before heading to bed. Sansa is already under the cover with her back laying against the mattress. If Sansa notices her still wearing the face mask, she doesn't question it. Margaery takes the opportunity to lay her head on the other girl's shoulder, snuggle closely, making up the time they were away from each other. With the candles still flickering with lights, Margaery notices how beautiful Sansa's neck is.

In the comfortable silence, Sansa speaks into the dimming lights, "You don't need to stay."

She hums in response as she leans closer to the long neck.

"You can go back to Highgarden." The redhead continues, unaware of that Margaery is distracted by something far more appealing than the whole Highgarden.

Margaery admires closely at the refined neck of her sweet girl. She gently pepping light kisses on the smooth skin. She can feel the other girl's chest hammering and her breath becomes shaky.

"It's okay for you go."

"I know," She sucks lightly on the skin. Then she removes herself from the beautiful neck to the beautiful face of her redhead who is staring at her adoringly," but I don't want to. I love you, Sansa."

This time Sansa is the one who leans in to kiss her.

---

The glaring sunlight shone into the room, blinding Margaery in the eyes.

Margaery groans and snuggles closer against a warm body, hiding her face into the silky, red locks. Now the other girl is awake too, grumpily complains about the raging light.

"I need to find the carpenter to fix the blinds soon," The redhead gets off the bed and stretches in all her naked glory, knowing Margaery's watchful eyes are on her. When her lustful thoughts clearing up, she realizes Sansa is putting back her clothes on.

"Where are you going?" Margaery asks, feeling a bit of disappointment. She was hoping to spend a lazy morning with the other girl.

"I'm late for my training with Brienne." Sansa slips into her trouser.

With a blanket shielding her from the chilly morning air, she crawls across the bed, stretching her arms to grab a handful of the loose grey shirt. She pulls the girl down onto the bed. Before Sansa can complain, she silences her with a feverish kiss.

Sansa's face is flushed and her eyes are blown with lust and excitement like last night. Margaery grins, "Lord Glover was wrong."

"What?" The redhead asks breathlessly.

"You're still alive after what you did last night," Margaery teasingly motioning her hand around her hips. Sansa raises her hand to playfully slap her bare stomach. She looks baffled, unable to form any words. Then they both throw into a fit of laughter.

Then Sansa gets off the bed again to fix her clothes, making sure she's out of her arm-reach. "Brienne will worry if I don't show up." The younger girl goes back and pecks on her pouty lips. "I'll see you in the field?" Margaery shyly nods, unaware that Sansa knew she has been watching over her training. Sansa beams at her before opening the door.

Margaery hears the redhead gasps in surprise. Fearing her sweet girl is in danger, she quickly jumps off the bed with the blanket wraps around her. When she reaches the door, the redhead's large frame blocks her from seeing who's outside the room but she hears a girl teasingly says, "Lady Sansa."

Before she can figure out what's going, Sansa rushes forward and embraces the girl outside. She is short with masculine features. Her black outfit matches her black hair that is probably slick back with pig fats. She has a skinny sword staps on the side. She wraps her arms around Sansa's back with the same amount of intensity, then she notices Margaery is watching them from the other side of the door. She looks at her with a familiar stoic expression. Then she smirks broadly and pats roughly on to the grey shirt with mischief in her eyes, "Did I interrupt something?"

Her sweet girl turns around in confusion. Her face reddens when she sees Margaery in nothing but a blanket. The short girl laughs loudly at her embarrassment. Margaery doesn't know if she should feel wary or relief that a strange girl finds out their newly rekindled affair and seems to accept it for her own amusement.

Sansa recovers from the embarrassment and realizes they're out in the hallway for anyone to walk by to see. She pulls the girl and pushes Margaery inside the room and locks the door.

"Margaery, this is..."

"Arya Stark," The short girl fills in. She does a flimsy cutesy, "You must be Lady Margaery from House Tyrell."

Arya Stark. The youngest daughter of Eddard Stark. She escaped from the King's Guards during the arrest of his father. Many thought she died.

With the remaining of her dignity that the blanket provides, Margaery does a perfect cutesy, "Lady Arya, I'm happy to know you safely return home."

Arya scoffs, "I'm no lady. Call me Arya since you and my sister seem to be very close."

"Arya!" Sansa scolds. Margaery takes the opportunity of the sibling bantering to excuse herself behind the wooden panel, near the corner of the room, to put her dress back on.

"She is certainly an improvement from Joffery."

Margaery pats down her dress and checks with the mirror before stepping back out. She sees Sansa rolls her eyes affectionately, "You're still annoying. Have you seen Jon?"

Arya nods, "Yeah, he was sulking in the studies. He still looking very upset just like I remember."

Sansa laughs. She fiddles around the girl like a mother to her child. "Have you been eating? You look too scrawny. You know you need to take care of yourself. Go to your room and take a bath. Brienne must be worried about me right now. I'm supposed to meet her half a candle ago. I trust that you can settle back on yourself?"

"I'm happy to help. She's your sister after all," Margaery volunteers.

Both sisters look unsure with the idea. Sana averts her eyes between Arya and her, and Arya just simply shrugs.

"Okay. Margaery will help you settle. I'll see you later."

After Sansa leaves the door, Arya's demeanor changes, menacing and aggressive. The playful mischievous glints in her eyes dampen into something deadly. In a blink of an eye, she pulls out a dagger and fiddles it between her hands.

Margaery swallows her fear and puts on an easy smile, "That's a cool dagger you have there."

"This is a special dagger. I use it to skin off the face of my victims," The girl explains coolly as she walks closer toward her. She is at least a head shorter than her but it doesn't stop Margaery feeling a little intimidated. The dagger is too close to her face for her comfort. "I don't know what's your intention with my sister, but if you hurt her or betray her, I'll make sure to add your face to into my collection."

Margaery still smiling, remaining at the same spot, not wanting to anger her beloved's only sister, "Understandable"

The answer seems to satisfy the little girl. The dagger pulls away from her face back to the sheath on the girl's belt. The daunting demeanor dissolves and the playful attitude returns. "Good. My sister assigned you to help me settle down?"

Margaery lets out a breath of relief. "Yes. You must be famished after a long journey." They headed to the supper table and the servants hurried inside the kitchen to get some food. In the meantime, Margaery fills Arya in the battle with the Boltons and the first meeting with all the northern lords. Surprisingly, Arya doesn't seem alarmed to hear Sansa beheaded Lord Glover.

"I was there when Sansa executed Littlefinger," Arya munching on the honey bread with her hand, very unladylike.

"You were there?"

"Yeah, after I poisoned all the Freys and reunited with Sansa in the Twins, we returned to Riverrun and she executed Littlefinger. She wanted to make sure the Knights of the Vale are loyal to her before killing that creep. Then we went to King's Landing together to save you."

"You were in King's Landing too? Why didn't you come back with us?"

Arya huffs in annoyance, "I was too busy being the king's mother. Then Kevan Lannister sent me to Casterly Rock to live out my days. I got bored so I came back."

"King's mother? Casterly Rock?" Whenever the little girl speaks, more questions pop up in Margaery's mind.

"Yeah. I wore that bitch's face for over a month," The girl scrunches her face in disgust. Arya catches her widen eyes. "Oh, Sansa didn't tell you?"

Margaery shakes her.

"What I didn't her?" Sansa walks into the dining room with her morning outfit. Her clothes are still dry. Her face is not flushed and her breath is not irregular like she usually is after the training. As the redhead sits next to her, she notices her questioning face. "I told Brienne I'm not able to train today. So what did I not tell you?"

"Cersei," Arya replies with food inside her mouth.

Sansa sighs in disapproval as she dismisses all the servants. Then she goes on explaining the whole plan. Arya trained to be a faceless man in Braavos. Margaery has heard rumors about the faceless men. They are assassins that use other people's faces to get close to their target to kill them, very efficient and fast. She peers her eyes at the little girl across, nonchalantly stuffing crispy bacon strips inside her mouth. Maybe she needs to take the threat more seriously.

When grandma proposed a deal with Sansa, the sisters formed a plan. Arya disguised as a soldier when they marched into the city. Before Sansa invited Olenna and her men to the dungeon, Sansa had already sent soldiers to locate both Cersei's and Margaery's confinement. The redhead deliberately led her grandmother to her cell first to create an excuse to separate from the group. This brings back some unpleasant memories into her. A hand gently places on top of her, squeezes lightly to comfort her. Margaery makes an excuse to grab some food to escape from the hold. She doesn't want her beloved to look at her like she was the broken woman inside the cell.

Sansa frowns but doesn't say anything. She grabs her cup of ale with her rejected hand. Feeling the tension, Arys takes over the storytelling. Once Sansa, Lady Brienne, and Arya reached to Cersei's cell, the lioness was already at the verge of a breakdown. Arya walked up to the woman, a hand over her lip and another holding a dagger against her throat. Slowly she dragged the blade across the pale skin and blood poured out. Then she skinned the face off and began to put herself into her new disguise. After that, Lady Brienne handed her to Kevan Lannister as part of the deal. Margaery winces in her seat at the gory details the little girl provided.

"Cersei Lannister is dead?" Margaery asks, wanting to confirm the information.

"Yeah," Arya confirms.

A tight knot on her back is finally relieved. She was afraid Cersei will wake up and send the Lannister army after her.

"Don't get too happy," Sansa said, "On my way here, Jon informed me a raven came last night. The Targaryen girl has crossed the narrow sea and now at the Dragonstone. My lord husband sent a raven here."

At the mention of Tyrion, Sansa's lips curl up. Ever since the early morning at Riverrun, Sansa slowly opened up to her. She told her after the wedding, Sansa has grown fond of the little man, spending a lot of her time with him. Tyrion has taught the girl a lot, especially when he was drunk. He's very talkative when he's intoxicated. He made the redhead's remaining days in King's Landing slightly better. To her relief, Sansa stated that her marriage with Tyrion was a sham because they never consummated it, but it doesn't stop Margaery from feeling ill. She knows she doesn't have the right feel that way because it was her fault for withdrawing from the redhead.

"Margaery? Margaery! Marg-"

"Hey! Hey!"

"Arya! What are you doing? Stop!"

"What? I'm trying to wake her up!"

"Huh?" She wakes up from her thoughts. Arya leans over the table with one hand placing firmly on the table and other waving wildly at her face, while Sansa is trying to grab onto her sister's arm. Too bad, Arya moves her hand too fast to be captured.

"Margaery, are you okay?" Sansa asks with her brows furrow in worry. She leans close to her but also careful not to touch her.

Margaery places her hand over her beloved's hand. The blue eyes soften. In the corner of her eyes, she can see Arya gagging at them but Sansa is too concentrated at their joint hands to notice. Ignoring the little girl, Margaery grins teasingly, "Yes, just having deep thoughts about you."

"I bet," Arya snorts as sits back onto her seat. Sansa glares at her little sister.

She adds a little pressure onto the hold to get back the redhead's attention. "What were you saying?"

Sansa focuses back to her, returning to her stoic, solemn Stark appearance, "The Targaryen girl demands Jon to go Dragonstone to bend the knee."

---

Jon sailed to Dragonstone with Sir Davos and a few other men. Initially, Sansa advised to wait for Daenerys to take over King's Landing first but another raven came. This time was from Sam, Jon's Night Watch brother. He informed Jon that Dragonstone contains dragonglass that can kill Night Walkers. Since he has seen the army of dead, Jon insisted that he needs to be the one to see the Mother of Dragons to convince her to allow him to harvest the dragonglass.

Once Jon left, Sansa has full responsibility in taking care of the North and making sure Arya don't get in trouble.

The Red Wolf thrives in the position. She wisely chooses people she trusts to share her responsibilities in managing the North. She demands every soldier to be trained every day so they can stay in the utmost fitness. She also occasionally provides drinks and entertainment to all the soldiers at night to keep their spirits high for the next battle. Knowing southron blood can't stay warm in the snow, she gifted leather armors to the Tyrell soldiers.

Trading becomes more difficult with the weather and the tension between the North and the South. With their knees deep into the snow, the small folks are struggling to make it by each day. Many men and women fled to Winterfell to get enlisted into the army, in exchange for housing and food.

Many women pick up a weapon and start training alongside the men. No men dare to sneer or leer at them, especially when they know Lady Brienne and Arya are nearby. Those, who can't fight, assigned to work in cleaning, cooking. and building armors and weapons.

In secret, the Red Wolf reimburses the brothels in Wintertown. The War of Five Kings and the fall of House Stark have dampened the businesses in the North, especially the brothels. Unbeknownst to many, the brothels contributed a tenth of the North taxes. Most importantly, most secrets are told in brothels and the Red Wolf wants those secrets.

To Margaery's dismay, the new position comes with numerous amount of duty, constantly surrounded by people needing her to make difficult decisions in a matter of seconds. They can't even share a single meal without someone showing up, asking for the Red Wolf's urgent attention. The only time they are truly alone is bedtime, but on many occasions, after a day of exhaustion, Sansa quickly passes out without saying a word.

Making sure Arya is out of trouble is not as easy as it seems. Arya Stark is truly something else. There are many incidents Arya is caught threatening any young lords that proposed to her, challenging those poor young lords in duels, and insulting them for losing too easily.

Sometimes she would join the morning training, and she would strike hard and fast at her less-experienced older sister as she did to her every opponent. When the redhead's cute arse landed on the ground, the younger wolf would howl in laughter. There always a glint of mischief in her eyes whenever she sees Sansa. To Margaery's horror, the mischief extends to her too.

She has been the victim of Arya's merciless teasing. Whenever Sansa is late for training, the little girl would wriggle her eyebrows dramatically, giving her a knowing look. Sometimes when they are having a really sweet moment, she would suddenly appear and make gagging sounds. As Sansa would attempt to chase after Arya to give her a scolding on disrespecting people's privacy, Margaery would thank the gods that she never has a little sister.

At the study, where the redhead usually works at night, Margaery stands patiently against the door, listening absently what happening on the other side. There are many voices in the room, six men talking loudly. She can almost see the blue eyes roll in annoyance when she hears a loud sign.

"I appreciate your concerns. I can assure my brother knows what good for the North. If there isn't anything else, I have other duties to attend to."

"Sorry for bothering you, my lady." The lords inside excuse themselves out of the room. Outside, Margaery puts on a charming smile to greet them. They reluctantly nod at her as they leave.

This is the third time, since Jon left, a group of lords went to Sansa, challenging Jon's position as their king. They undermined Jon's decisions, loyalty, and birth. They swore to get behind the trueborn daughter of Ned Stark if she agrees to publicly denounce Jon.

A couple of bold lords even proposed marriage to Sansa for the sake of aiding her in upholding power in the North, as they claimed. The truth is they want the North for themselves. If Sansa denounces Jon as the King, whoever marries Sansa will have claims to be the next King in the North. Every single time, Sansa firmly defends her bother and kindly reminding them what happened to Lord Glover, discouraging the lords from continuing with their treasonous plan.

The lords are not entirely wrong. Sansa brought her fair share of men to take Winterfell back and destroy the Boltons, essentially avenged for House Stark. Even though some lords are wary about the alliances Sansa has with the South, many northerners will feel sympathetic to the story of the poor girl that was forced to marry into the house that ruined her family. They will stand behind her as the lords promised. She knows Sansa will make a great Queen, but she will also need to have an heir.

If she becomes queen, she'll need to marry a northern lord to produce an heir. Margaery remembers how her dress fell onto the ground, revealing her glorious body in front of her brother's lover, urging him to give her a son to secure his throne. Loras was upset but he knew it has to be done. After all, he was the one who proposes them to wed. Loras praised Renly as a good lover but the young stag was unresponsive and detached from the start. The whole thing Margaery felt like she was kissing a plank.

The thoughts of Sansa being with someone else leaves a distasteful taste in her mind. She did marry three times to be the queen. Can she blame Sansa if she does the same? If she does, where will she go? She'll stay in Winterfell and continue their affair in secrets? But she can't bear to watch the redhead having a family of her own. What if Sansa thinks her relationship with her husband and children are more important than Margaery? Then where can she go? Leave Winterfell and return to Highgarden, living the rest of her life without the redhead? She doesn't want that either. Margaery hates herself for keep having these unpleasant thoughts.

She enters the wooden door into the studies and catches Sansa scribbling fiercely onto the parchment paper.

"I thought I said I'm busy."

"Well, apologies, my lady," Margaery replies mockingly.

"Margaery?" Sansa looks up, surprised to see her. "I thought the lords come back."

"Don't worry, sweetling. Those poor men looked defeated when they walked out the door." She playfully waves a letter in front of the girl. "I've received a raven from my grandmother. I thought you would like to know. Two hundred carriages worth of food will arrive in a month."

Since farming is impossible in the cold, Margaery sent a raven to Highgarden, requesting her family to send food over to Winterfell. This gesture is appreciated by many lords and small folks. It helps soften the tension between the soldiers.

Sansa snatches the letter and reads it thoroughly. "Thank you for personally delivering this. I'll send Lady Olenna a letter telling her how grateful we are." She neatly folds the letter and puts it on the side and continues writing on whatever she was working on, looking as regal as ever.

"Look at you acting like a queen."

"What?"

"You are good at this. You understand power. You know what people need and want. You can tame them into your subjects. Jon is too trusting and honorable. He'll be eaten alive by the lo- "

"Margaery." The quill harshly clashes onto the ink jar, causing the ink on the tip to sprinkle onto the desk. Sansa stands up and walks around her desk, closer to her. "Before Littlefinger died, he taught me how to understand a person's motives. You have to play a little game. You assume the worst. What's the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say, or doing what they do? Then you ask yourself, 'how well does that reason explain what they say and what they do?'"

A pair of tired blue eyes bore down at her brown eyes, "Margaery, I'm going to say it once so listen carefully. I will not allow anyone to get between me and my family, not even you. Do not give me a reason to play this little game. Do you understand? "

"Yes," Margaery nods.

Satisfied with the response, Sansa leans in and kisses on her cheek softly. Then she returns to her seat and continues scribbling.

It's time for her to go. Before she opens the door, she looks back at her beloved, "I'll see you tonight?"

Sansa looks up with a soft smile, "I still have a lot of matters to tend tonight. I'll be late. Don't wait up."

---

She was afraid her misspoken words would cause a rift between them again. She spent the night, waiting for the other girl to return. To her relief, the redhead did return to bed, next to her, much later at night.

Nothing has changed between them. The girl still sweetly kisses her goodbye before she goes to her practice. She still values her opinions on political matters. They still enjoy each other company during meals.

She wants to apologize for her words but whatever happened in the studies, stays in the studies. The redhead never brings it up again so Margaery doesn't either. Sansa makes it clear that her family comes first.

Margaery was surprised the younger girl asked her for a walk to the garden during breakfast. Since it's rare for the redhead to have any free time, she accepted immediately. Sansa dismissed all the guards, including Brienne. They walked for half a candle as the younger girl told her the story of Bran the Builder.

They stop at a small garden, hidden near the abandoned watchtower. Sansa leads her to a brush of flowers that are covered with snow. With a gently swipe, the snow falls, unveiling the most beautiful flower Margaery has ever seen.

Despite the snow falling, the flowers still blooming to the size of a palm. There are different shades of blue on the petals, from the outer layer of light gentle blue to the inner layer of dark night sky blue. The sweet scent of theirs is stronger than a field of spring flowers in the Reach. They have a soothing effect on people. It's so easy to just gaze upon them for hours with nothing in the mind.

"They're the winter roses. Aren't they beautiful?"

She turns around, her face flushes. She nearly forgets the redhead is here. "Yes. In Highgarden, a gardener once told me that winter roses are the most beautiful flowers. I didn't believe him but it's true. I never saw such captivating flowers."

Sansa observes closely at the flowers. Her face softens and her whole body relaxes. The stress that builds upon her shoulder seems to be absorbed by the flowers. Margaery feels guilty, knowing she is one of the sources of that stress.

"Sansa, I want to apologize." Her eyes widen. She didn't expect words unconsciously slip out from her lips.

"Apologize for what?" Sansa turns her attention away from the flower. She hates the softened features fade away immediately into a frown.

This is her chance to come clean. It's now or never. "For every stress that I added to your shoulder, especially that night in the study. I shouldn't have said those things."

"We already settled that matter. No need to bring it up."

"What I said that night undermines your relationship with your brother, and I know how much you care about your family. I should've known better. I need you to know that I'm not like those lords that always want something from you."

"I know that."

"I want to help you let go of the burden, not adding to it. I'm sorry that I failed you."

Sansa takes hold of her hand, squeezing them lightly. "You didn't fail me. You took some of my burdens and make them yours. When I'm occupied, you spent time with the small folks, listening to their stories. Then you would share those stories during mealtime. Through those stories, I know how to best support my people. You also offered me political advice with no personal motives, unlike the lords." Sansa smiles teasingly, "The most wonderful you did is share a fair share of my sister's mischief."

"By the Gods, your sister gives me more headache than Cersei ever did. I'm really glad I have a Loras instead of a Lorissa when I was younger."

She feels lighter as they both laugh loudly and freely, knowing no one can hear them in such vacant areas.

Sansa smiles at her with such tenderness in her eyes that she couldn't help to reciprocate. A warm gloved hand rests on her cheek, nearly touches her mask. She flinches. A sudden panic strikes through her body. She takes a step back, pressing her hand firmly against her mask.

Sansa quickly lowers her hand. Her face fills with concern but she doesn't dare to step forward. "It's alright, Margaery. It's alright. I'm sorry. I've crossed the line. I just want you to know that the wound doesn't make me care for you any less. The scar only makes you look strong. It shows me how much you've endured to be here... with me. You don't need to hide any part of you from me. I know you're not ready so I ordered someone to make this for you."

Remaining her distance, Sansa nervously pulls a nice piece of cloth that is wrapped around something out of her coat and extends her arm over to her.

She slowly takes a step forward and takes the gift. She curiously removes the fabric, revealing a beautifully crafted wooden mask that is similar in shape and size to the one she's wearing. She holds up the mask to examine it carefully. Her house sigil is engraved all over onto the wood, and on the other side, there is a layer of soft leather.

"I noticed you fiddle with your mask often when it irritates you, so I ordered a more comfortable one. The maester has a special cream that you can put on your skin so the mask can sticks onto your skin without tying any strings. It's easy and painless to remove it." She pulls out a small bottle of cream from one of her many coat pockets. "You can try it on later or whenever you're comfortable."

For the first time, she removes her mask in front of Sansa. She is relieved that Sansa didn't gasp or reach out to comfort her. The pair of blue eyes still looking at her with so much affection. She takes a quick glance at the bottle before leaning face in.

Following her lead, Sansa takes off her right glove and unclasps the bottle before gently applies the paste onto her scarred face. Her movement is light as a feather and slow like she's afraid she'll break her. Her lips curl up unconsciously as she watches the redhead intensely concentrating on the simple task.

Once all the rough skin is moisturized, she hands the new mask back to the redhead. Carefully, she places the mask onto her cheek. The leather sticks snugly onto the skin. The smooth edge doesn't cause any irritation her skins like the previous mask. Margaery wishes to have a mirror to see how the new mask looks on her.

"How do I look?"

"Beautiful."

She blushes. She's had been called beautiful many times. It feels good to hear it again, especially from the woman she loves. She can see Sansa smiles adorningly at her flushed face. They are once again alone, surrounded by beautiful flowers. A cold breeze sweeps past them. Margaery can feel the pit of happiness erupting from the inside. Everything is so perfect. At least for now.