The Rose of the Little Sept

King's Landing, the mansion of Mathis Rowan.

Inside the small sept, Margaery Tyrell, dressed in a gray homespun robe, prayed devoutly alongside the old septa.

The old septa, also dressed in gray robes, opened her eyes. "Child, morning prayers may end now. May The Gods bless you."

After a pause, Margaery slowly opened her eyes, her doe-like eyes glistening with tears. "I wish to pray a little longer, that the Seven may soon hear my confession."

The old septa rose, her expression kindly. "Very good, but the sisters outside have already brought the food. Making them wait too long would add another sin. Come, child, let me help you up."

Having said that, without waiting for Margaery's response, the old septa rather roughly pulled her to her feet.

Margaery allowed herself to be led away without showing any unusual reaction. "Thank you for your guidance, Septa Molle."

The scrutiny in the old septa's eyes faded, and she nodded gently. "Though there is only water and bread, they are blessings from The Gods."

"Yes, thanks be to The Gods."

Margaery calmly ate the black bread in small bites, while Septa Molle stood beside her, openly watching her every move.

She picked up the wooden cup, took a sip of water, and said, "Septa Molle, forgive my presumption, but has the date of my trial been set?"

The old septa's sharp face resembled an axe. She assessed Margaery before speaking. "Child, if you have grown weary of prayer, I can reduce the time appropriately."

Margaery shook her head. "My heart has never been so peaceful, nor have I ever felt so close to the Seven above."

A trace of excitement entered her voice. "Even after the trial ends, I will pray every day as I do now. I only ask because