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Take a deep breath.
It´s just a bad day, not a bad life.
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-They are just jealous.-
It´s what her Grandma used to say when the kids on the playground wouldn´t let her play with them.
Now it´s what she tells herself when she walks trough the school halls and everybody is starring at her.
-They are all just jealous.
Because you are a Tyrell, and because Loras is your brother and Renly is your boyfriend and because if you wanted to, you could rule this school.-
Margaery tries to make herself believe her own words, but it´s hard when somebody is throwing their water bottle in your face.
That somebody is Joffrey Baratheon.
She kows because even though her eyes are closed, cold water dripping down her face, she can hear his laugh, high and cackling, like a hyena.
It´s the same laugh she hears every night in her dreams.
Nightmares of course, not sex dreams or anthing like that. Ew.
It´s the same laugh that has been haunting her every day since middle school.
Sighing, she looks down at her flower printed t-shirt, now drenched.
She only bought it this weekend, because she´s seen Shae wearing a similiar one to a football game once, and everybody likes Shae.
Joffrey definetly likes Shae, she thinks, when she sees the two of them making out against the lockers.
Margaery bites her lip, wondering what she should do now.
Her first class starts in two minutes, Algebra, and the teacher hates her already even though it´s not her fault she´s just really bad at it, but there is no way she´s stepping into a classroom like this.
-Screw this.-
Going to her locker she takes out her gym shirt and turns around, shouldering her way through the mass of giggling cheerleaders that are no doubt laughing about her.
It takes her a second to decide wether to use the girls bathroom down the hall or the one farther away.
Last time she used the one closer to her classroom she stumbled in on the Stark girl starring at herself in the mirror like she could see through it, and that had just been weird.
So she decides that it doesn´t matter if any more students see her drenched in water, they all hate her anyway, and makes her way to the one further away from her hell of algebra class.
That one is empty, thankfully, and Margaery smiles to herself.
On her way to one of the stalls she catches a look of herself in the mirrors and halts.
Big blue eyes, a cute button nose, long brown wavy hair and all the right clothes.
It´s so unfair, she should be popular.
She knows she´s not ugly and besides, she´s a tyrell, and her brother is on the football team.
But it´s always been like that: Golden boy Loras and little, weird, always smiling too big Margaery.
She furrows her brows at her blue dyed hair tips.
That was stupid, she only did it to feel braver and she actually thought it looked kind of good, but the looks of everybody in the halls this morning told her otherwise.
At home she would dye them back first thing.
Closing the bathroom stall door behind her, she can´t help but giggle when she sees „RENLY" written on it in red marker with a big „HE´S MINE" just under it.
-No,-
she thinks,
-he´s Mine.-
-But that´s not right either, is it?-
A voice inside her head tells her.
-Renly only belongs to Loras.-
-You´re just there so nobody becomes suspicious, so your great brother doesn´t become like you, an outcast.-
„Shut up." she mumbles to herself while changing into her gym shirt.
-You are only doing it so you can pretend your little crush on Renly is reciprocated. But the truth is, Renly chose your brother, just like everybody always does.-
„I know that, I know that. I am only doing this for Loras."
And how could she not.
When your brother comes into your room in the middle of the night, crying, sobbing, telling you how he hates himself for loving a boy, and you pet his hair and tell him it´s okay and that it doesn´t make him any less of the Loras you know and love, and when he begs you to help, tells you he doesn´t know how to live without Renly (Renly, out of everyone it had to be Renly, the boy she loved since first grade, who always came to her house and used to call her „his little rose", of course it was him, of course he had only ever been there because of Loras.), you don´t just say no.
Even though it hurts so damn much every time Renly holds her hand in school or kisses her cheek and she knows that the second the two of them are alone she´s invisible.
It´s for Loras, and she would do everything for Loras.
Sighing, Margaery opens the bathroom door and makes her way to the secreariat.
There is no way she is going to be late to Algebra again without a pass.
The Lady at the counter likes her, she´ll help Margaery out.
Once she´s there she sees she´s not the only one needing a late pass and even from behind she knows who the other person is.
The long silver hair with the complicated braids and the simple black shirt, ripped jeans and worn out biker boots are a no brainer.
If there´s one person who is even more of an outcast than Margaery herself it´s probably Daenerys Targaryen.
Even though the other girl is probably the most beautiful in school and comes from an incredibly wealthy family nobody ever talks to her.
But they don´t bully her either and of that Margaery is jealous.
The silver haired girl turns around and Margaery winces.
Scratch the whole being jelaous thing.
Her eye is bruised and blue, her lip split open and looking like it only just stopped bleeding.
Yeah, Margaery thinks, definetly not jealous.
Everybody knows about Viserys Targaryen and his love for violence, especially regarding his younger sister.
-Everybody knows, but nobody ever does anything.-
Daenerys smiles slightly when she sees her but ends up only wincing and putting a finger up to her lip.
Margaery smiles back and the other girl leaves, late pass in hand (because nobody is going to hold her responsible for being late when her face looks like this).
Stepping up to the counter Margaery is just about to explain her predicament when she hears a voice behind her.
„Hey Tyrell girl!"
Behind her Daenerys is slowly making her way down the hall, going backwards, violet eyes fixed on Margaery.
„I like your hair."
And it doesn´t even sound mocking, but like the other girl really means it.
Margaery smirks, trying to cover her blush, and mumbles a „thanks", but Daenerys is already gone.
-Maybe,-
Margaery thinks, hands going up to touch her hair tips,
-I´ll keep them like this.-
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