Olenna Tyrell had arrived in King's Landing. Dyana was delighted; she hadn't seen her grandmother in nearly three years. The Tyrell women situated themselves in the gardens, while Margaery sent Loras to retrieve Sansa, much to Dyana's chagrin.

But Dyana could play like all she wanted was a friendship. She'd done it many times before, and she could do it well.

Dyana and Margaery waited by the garden's entrance. While they waited, a handmaiden spoke cheerily with Margaery.

When Loras arrived with Sansa on his arm, Margaery spun to face them both. "You're such a dear," she told Loras.

"I'll take my leave," Loras said with a smile.

He gave Dyana a pointed look as he ushered Sansa toward her. "Lady Sansa," he said, before he walked away.

"Thank you, Ser Loras," Sansa called after him.

Dyana took Sansa's arm, smiling. "Come," she encouraged.

Margaery caught her sister's gaze, raising an eyebrow. But she said nothing.

"Sansa," Dyana said, "it is my honor to present Margaery and I's grandmother... the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell."

Olenna let out a smile, holding her hand out to Sansa. "Kiss me, child," she said, and Sansa did as told.

"It's so good of you to visit me and my foolish flock of hens," the Queen of Thorns continued. "We're very sorry for your losses."

Sansa smiled awkwardly. "And I was sorry when I heard of Lord Renly's death, Lady Dyana. He was very gallant."

"Gallant, yes. And charming and very clean," Olenna stated. "He knew how to dress and smile and somehow this gave him the notion he was fit to be king."

"Renly was very brave and gentle, Grandmother," Dyana pointed out. "Father quite liked him, and so did Loras."

"Loras is young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick," the old woman shrugged. "That does not make him wise. As to your fathead father- -"

"Grandmother!" Margaery interjected. "What will Sansa think of us?"

"She might think we have some wits about us. Two of us, at any rate. It was treason. I warned them. Robert has two sons and Renly has an older brother. How could he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? We should have stayed well out of all this if you ask me. But once the cow's been milked, there's no squirting the cream back up her utters. So here we are to see things through. What do you say to that, Sansa?"

Before Sansa could answer, Olenna spoke again. "Shall we have some lemon cakes?" she asked

Sansa smiled. "Lemon cakes are my favorite," she said.

"So we've been told."

Olenna looked to a servant. "Are you going to bring the food or do you mean to starve us to death?"

The servant gave a polite smile, nodding his head. Olenna rose from her chair. "Here, Sansa, come sit with me," she said. "I'm much less boring than these others."

The three women sat at the table. "Do you know my son?" Olenna asked. "The Lord of Highgarden?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," Sansa replied.

"No great pleasure, believe me. A ponderous oaf. His father was an oaf as well. My husband, the late Lord Luthor. He managed to ride off a cliff whilst hawking. They say he was looking up at the sky and paying no mind to where his horse was taking him. And now my son is doing the same, only this time he's riding a lion instead of a horse. Now... I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy, this Joffrey."

Sansa went stiff in her seat. Dyana reached over, laying a hand over the younger girl's. "I... I..." Sansa stuttered.

"You, you," Olenna stated. "Who else would know better? We've heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you?"

When Sansa didn't answer, Olenna continued. "Has he ripped out your tongue?"

Sansa finally spoke. "Joff- King Joffrey, he- - His Grace is very fair and handsome and brave as a lion."

"Yes, all Lannisters are lions," Olenna said. "And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose. But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand?"

Margaery smiled kindly at Sansa. "I'm to be his wife," she said. "I only want to know what that means."

Footsteps sounded, marking the return of a servant with lemon cakes. Olenna reached for the plate, looking up at the young man. "Bring me some cheese," she instructed.

"The cheese will be served after the cakes, my lady," he said.

"The cheese will be served when I want it served. And I want it served now."

He nodded quickly, hurrying away from the table. Olenna leaned forward to speak to Sansa. "Are you frightened, child?" she asked.

Sansa didn't answer, she only picked up a lemon cake. Olenna continued. "No need for that. We're only women here. Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you."

Dyana picked up a lemon cake, turning it over in her hands before she took a small bite.

Sansa stared at the ground. "My father always told the truth," she said.

"Yes," Olenna agreed, "he had that reputation. And they named him traitor and took his head."

"Joffrey. Joffrey did that."

A dark look was in Sansa's bright blue eyes. Anger was on her face. She kept speaking. "He promised he would be merciful and he cut my father's head off. And he said that was mercy. Then he took me up on the walls and made me look at it."

Tears blossomed below the anger. Margaery slowly leaned forward. "Go on," she said softly.

Sansa straightened suddenly, her anger gone. "I- - I can't. I never meant- - my father was a traitor. My brother as well. I have traitor's blood. Please don't make me say anymore."

Margaery sighed. "She's terrified, Grandmother. Just look at her."

"Speak freely, child," Olenna urged. "We would never betray your confidence, I swear it."

Dyana bit her lip, twining her fingers with Sansa's. "It's all right," she whispered. "You can tell us."

Sansa nodded slowly. "He's a monster," she admitted.

Olenna let out a sigh. "Ah. That's a pity."

"Please, don't stop the wedding," Sansa said.

Olenna chuckled. "Have no fear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth. Ah, here comes my cheese."

The servant set down the cheese, leaving once more.

Dyana raised Sansa's lemon cake, holding it out to the younger girl. "Don't let this trouble you," she said. "Eat it."

She did as told. Dyana ate the rest of her cake.

When the time came for them to leave, Dyana led Sansa deeper into the gardens. She hesitated before she spoke. "I'm sorry for what Joffrey has done to you," she said.

Sansa shook her head. "You don't have to be, it's not your fault."

"I know. But I had a bad feeling from him the moment I saw him at the tourney. If I had ever thought that he'd be as horrible as you described him to be- -"

"Why do you care so much?"

Dyana froze. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you care so much about me?" Sansa replied.

"I don't know. I just want to make sure that you're all right. That you're safe."

"But why?"

"Why should there be a reason? Why does it matter? Why is there a why?"

Sansa's eyebrows furrowed, and Dyana let out a weak laugh. "Sorry," she said. "I know that I can get... intense."

Sansa nodded slightly. "All right," she said. "But I still would like to know what makes you care about me so much."

Dyana bit down on her lip. "You're beautiful. You're sweet. You're naïve. You're kind."

"Really?"

Dyana didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer. She took Sansa's hands in hers, smiling. "Really," she said after a long moment.

She started to lean close, her eyes on Sansa's lips. But, instead, she lay a kiss to the girl's cheek. "I have to take my leave, now," she said.

When she stepped away, Sansa was blushing.

Dyana hid the smile on her face as she hurried out of the gardens.