Willas Tyrell considers his sister's composure.

Oberyn Martell died shouting his sister's name to her murderer and raper. Margaery's letter had been discreet, with barely a mention of the pandemonium that had taken place. She wrote only that Prince Oberyn had fallen, but not before gravely injuring Gregor Clegane as well.

Margaery had been Joffrey's queen for less than a day. She was a widow again. But not for long, it seemed.

"If it's a king your father wants for Margaery, then a king he shall have. Who the king is matters not in the least," Grandmother had said before leaving for King's Landing.

Tommen? A boy of what … eight? Half Margaery's age. It could be years before she was bedded and the marriage consummated. Margaery seemed serene and untroubled by the prospect, just as she had seemed untroubled by the prospect of marrying Joffrey, even after Petyr Baelish came to Highgarden with his stories and his warnings about the young king. His sister's composure and absolute self-possession unnerved Willas at times. Her graces and courtesies were not simply a mask hiding the turbulent self hiding inside; she was calm waters on the inside and outside.

Margaery was not naïve, Willas knew. Her composure and serenity were not the results of ignorance or delusion, or a refusal to face the truth. She saw the truth, and was never afraid. She knew the worst, and had full confidence in her ability to master any situation to her advantage. She reminded Willas of Grandmother in that regard, except Margaery's tongue was far more trained and restrained, courtesy of their lady mother and her training.