Chapter Text
Margaery knew that black was not her color – perhaps that is the reason she only had one or two of those in her wardrobe. Black was more Targaryen than Tyrell after all. She had mostly worn blue or green with a hint of gold and embellished with roses. But now it was just a cloth of black draped over a humbly underworked dress fitting for a commoner. The outfit itself did nothing to help with the cold. As cruel as winter was becoming, it was not the time to think of her attire at all. Margaery was not the queen anymore, and her life was at stake – for the second time.
For what seemed to be a two-month-long journey from King’s Landing, Margaery had been sneaking off and introducing herself as someone else outside of the capital to not get recognized – all to ensure that she reached her destination, unharmed preferably. It was her first time to be alone out in the world – burdened by true, unforgiving loneliness and grief. If word leaked that Margaery Tyrell was not at the Sept of Baelor at the time of the accident, Cersei would ensure to have her head on a spike in a fortnight.
Cersei will not be permitted of that satisfaction; Margaery would make sure of it. Cersei won though; everyone knows it. Margaery being the one to occupy too much of herself with the High Sparrow foolishly. But with how he treated Cersei and her walk of shame; Margaery cannot be blamed for overestimating him. He had power, yes – but Cersei was vengeful to her core. It is as if Margaery had forgotten that. It was a miscalculation on her part; an error she will never forgive herself for ‘til her last day.
Her hunger for the crown no longer burnt as brightly as it once did. After all that happened, the wildfire and the smoke, the loss of a father and a brother, and the death of her house, there was nothing left in the Game of Thrones that gave her the will to play. It was the price she paid for and now she has lost everything… Everything except her life and a grandmother down south. Now all she wanted to do was to protect what she had left, starting with her own life.
So there the brunette stood, just outside of Winterfell. The last place she thought to be.
The fortress was as tall and as intimidating as they said during her lessons growing up. It was a fortified stronghold that did not fail to make her feel small and insignificant. It had that effect on anyone setting foot there for the first time. It was far more brooding than Highgarden, she thought. This is also where her former lover grew up.
Margaery felt the cold reach her spine. She had never been this far up north before. This was a desperate move for the young Tyrell to make; to find refuge in a home where she only heard tales of and to find comfort in a girl she had not seen in years. The girl who once meant the world to her. Going to Winterfell was the only thing left to do if Margaery ever wished to survive all of this.
“Sansa…” She sighs.
Margaery was possibly just a few feet away from the girl she had hidden away in memory long ago. Yet everything came back to her in flashes at that moment: the way their eyes locked for the first time in the throne room, the afternoon strolls by the garden, the late-night talks, and professions of love, the abrupt end to their love affair, how Sansa vanished during the Margaery’s wedding to Joffrey, and the ache that the Tyrell girl felt as the years went by missing Sansa; the ache that never really went away.
She had buried all of this, Margaery thought. But all she could do was let these feelings resurface; realizing how perfect everything was once, only to have them worlds apart now, even as Margaery stood outside Sansa's home.
Margaery wondered for a moment how Sansa would look like by now, how much older has she gotten since they last seen each other. Was she going to see the same girl she loved years ago? The girl who smiles at the thought of lemon cakes and trips to Highgarden. The girl who would let Margaery hold her hand as they walked together. The girl who was always so sweet and gentle and bashful and caring. The girl who made Margaery forget that she ever wanted to be queen at one point -- but also the girl who had enough pain to last a lifetime. The girl whose tears flowed so quickly – so fragile, and so naïve. The girl that Margaery wanted to protect, take care of, and love – but chose not to.
There was so much of their past that she wanted to forget. But as Margaery was stepping closer to the gates of Winterfell, she knew that she was also stepping closer to the past – closer to the girl she once loved.