Chapter Text
The oath taking – what was meant to be the crowning moment of her career, was not as exciting as she had hoped. Getting her license as a psychometrician after years of studying was something she hadn't had dreamed of as a child at all. And her current state proved to be what she expected of it.
Seated behind the front desk, stealing glances of the entrance just a few feet away from her every now and then — as if it was a usual thing for people to come through the doorway.
A psychometrician is someone, under the guidance of psychologists and neuropsychologists, who practices the art of psychometrics. They were responsible for administering to and scoring of psychological tests of clients. These tests could identify various personality traits and possibly, abnormal behaviour. Choosing the clinical field, as her family had advised, she was more focused on testing clients for various psychological disorders. This would include mood disorders like depression, bipolar, and cyclothymia; eating disorders and even personality disorders.
Margaery had not dreamt of this. It was law that she wanted to pursue. As interesting as psychology was—considering that there was so much to the human mind, how people behaved and most especially the disorders, Margaery had to admit it wasn't enough to sustain the interest. She would have traded her psychometrician license to go to law school instead. But the family needed her, the clinic needed her. Loras was disinterested, to say the least. And as much as Margaery loved the older brother, he wasn't determined as she was when it came to preserving the family. And now the weight of it all depended on her.
But in the silence of the empty clinic, the patients having been attended to earlier that morning, Margaery didn't think about those things. She was focused – determined, to say the least, to make the best of her circumstance. After all, anything for family, she would have done.
“Quiet — as usual.”
Margaery looked up from the files lined up on her desk to where the voice came from.
“Didn't think you'd still remember your way back here.” Margaery comments.
“Missed me?”
“Hardly.” She teased.
Loras grinned expectantly, finally reaching the front desk.
“Drowning in reports again, I assume.”
“I've got father to blame for this.” Her eyes reverted back to the folders.
It was little before noon and Margaery expected their father to arrive at the clinic sooner. As quiet as the clinic may seem, their services were needed tremendously. The Tyrell psychiatric clinic, after all, had earned its reputation of upholding their ethical standards. Not to mention that they are the most trusted by families of the higher class—the Lannisters included.
Margaery might have specialized in the clinical setting, testing for neurotic and/or psychotic tendencies among clients, but her services were also needed in a few educational and industrial institutions. This meant improving psychological examinations she had devised to look into people's personality traits. For job applicants, it meant if they would be a good fit to the existing group of people working in a company; and for students, it was for monitoring of their overall psychological well being.
With a heavy load already from schools and companies on the side, her father had assured her to look into the profiles of the patients in the clinic for that day. But he was no where to be found.
“Right... About that,” Loras starts off. “He wanted me to tell you that he was meeting someone today. Said it was rather urgent. He will be here later in the afternoon though.”
“Of course, he does.” Margaery sighed, eyes still glued to the desk. “Did you really just come by here to tell me this? He could have just called me. Well, you could have just called too.”
“Did you not miss your older brother?” He teased, resting his forearms on the desk opposite to Margaery.
“On the contrary, I think it's you who missed me.” She looks up.
“You're always so serious, Marg.” He steps back, breathing in the scent of the clinic. It was foreign to him, considering that he doesn't get to be around often.
Margaery could only roll her eyes in response. She couldn't deny it. She was serious most of the time, especially when it came to work. But mostly it was only when Loras was around. As much as she loved her brother, there was envy.
He was, after all, the walking reminder of everything she was denied. The golden boy who had been groomed for politics, to take up law; things Margaery could only dream of now. And to watch him waste away his youth on things unrelated, irritated her to an extent. She wanted her brother to excel. But on the other hand, she wished it was her who had the opportunity to.
“How is grandmother?” She changes the topic. “I haven't seen her in a week.”
“Exhausted, I could tell. She is in a meeting right now with the prime minister, you know—small council meetings.”
“Ah. Tywin.”
“I do have to meet her in a few.”
“You're going to leave your baby sister with all this work?” She joked.
“You would know what to do with them better than I could.” He chuckled, making his way up the stairs and out of the clinic.
“What did she say?”
Tywin's office doors appeared to have flown open with Cersei's entrance. He wouldn't have expected less from his impulsive daughter anyways. It had just been minutes earlier when Olenna left, discussing a few vital matters with him about the state, most especially what is to become of the small council for the years to come.
“Loras Tyrell will start attending council meetings, as I have suggested, starting next week. And as prior arranged, he will take her place in the small council upon her retirement.” Tywin answers bluntly; not even glancing up from the load of paperwork he had started on and he already felt how irritated Cersei was without even saying a word.
“As you have suggested?” She repeats and Tywin finally glances up.
“Well, that didn't sound imposing—“ she adds, comfortably taking a seat directly in front of Tywin. “That didn't sound like the prime minister at all. Didn't know you had it in you, father.” Cersei teased and then paused. Tywin reverts his eyes back to the desk. If she stormed in unannounced just to insult him, Cersei was doing a pretty damn good job.
“And what of Margaery?” She finally adds.
“What about her?”
The father and daughter finally locked eyes for the first time and now Tywin felt that she was starting to feel insulted as well.
“She's in her father's clinic, doing what she is supposed to; tending to patients and clients for the rest of her life.” He answers.
“And what if she decides to do otherwise? Like... I don't know... Go to law school—”
“We've spoken about this.”
“We have, father and I don't think you realize how this could all fall apart sooner or later.” She retaliates, nostrils almost flaring. Cersei might have sounded enraged but it was mostly out of fear.
“Sometimes I wonder—if you're actually mine” He places his pen down, setting aside all the paperwork he was supposed to finish. He was making himself appear that he was trying to prove a point.
“You're a Lannister. Lannisters don't act like fools. And all you do, is act out of impulse and complain on incessantly... like a fool.”
She stares at him still. Cersei was used to the sermons; not that any of it actually went to her head.
“I've got it under control.” He finishes.
Mace finally arrived at the clinic an hour after Loras left, but he was not alone. With him, was another older man, as old as Margaery's father, she believed.
“Margaery, Eddard Stark is here today.”
The mayor of Winterfell, Margaery thought.
“He was the one who needed to meet me... I think his daughter will be a new client of ours. We have to screen her today.”
Margaery took a glance of the pair behind her father. She noticed a girl behind the older man. She was definitely a bit younger. She was definitely a redhead.
“What kind of screening?” She asks, pair of eyes now back to her father's.
“Psychosis, possibly. But we aren't sure yet.”
Margaery's eyes grew. As much as she had studied psychosis in the past, there was never an existing case in the clinic when they had encountered such. Most clients were either suffering from a mood depressed or an eating disorder. She suddenly felt anxious. She was starting to doubt if she was actually fit for the job.
Psychotic clients have emotions and thoughts severely impaired that they lose touch with reality. None of what they say or do seemed to make sense; it is as if they live in a world of their own. Other reports would suggest that they can be aggressive, but it's not true with all and even majority of the cases. But either way, they were more difficult to work with and required more experienced psychologists.
“As I've said, we're not sure yet. That's why we need the screening,” Mace glances back at Ned, giving him a reassuring smile. “I'll introduce you to them first.” He finishes and Margaery nodded.
“Ned, this is my daughter, Margaery. She assists me here in the clinic with the screening.”
Ned and Margaery both extended hands, giving the other a firm shake.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Ned managed a smile.
“And I, you, sir.” Margaery returned.
“If you'll excuse me, I'll go ahead and prepare the screening.” Mace informed, then soon after focusing his gaze on his daughter. “I'll need you inside in a few. Go and meet the client first.” Mace left and now the clinic lobby had three remaining people inside: Margaery, Ned, and his daughter.
“Let me introduce you to her.” Ned starts off then looking behind to the redhead that appeared hidden from his stature.
The young Stark finally emerges; only making Margaery wanting to give her a warm smile when a pair of sad eyes locked with hers.
“Hi, my name's Margaery Tyrell.” She extends a hand. “I'm Mace's daughter. I'm the psychometrician here in the clinic.”
“Sansa...” Taking the hand that was offered, she mirrors Margaery's smile before returning the shake. “Sansa Stark.”