A/N: Hello, my loves! I know I've been quiet for a while on here, but I just graduated from college, so I've got some time while I'm job hunting.

My best friend Anne-Lilian and I have been cooking this story up for a while, since Jon and Margaery are her favorite characters in Game of Thrones, and I immediately started wondering what their interactions would be like. And so this story was born! We won't be updating regularly, since we're both busy, but I promise, it's in progress.

FF won't let us be co-authors on this story, but we've published it jointly on AO3 if you also want to check it out there!

It was chaos, but all she could do was stare. Once again, she had been deprived of a husband. And no matter how cruel and sadistic he had been, she couldn't quite believe that she had missed out on a wedding night again. Margaery blinked, and suddenly, she was aware of someone pulling at her arm. Her grandmother. Vaguely, she was confused, shouldn't she stay with her husband? She was his widow now, and had to bury him.

"Wake up, child," her grandmother snapped, "and move your legs, I am too old to be dragging you along like this."

Instantly, Margaery did as was asked of her, as she always did when Lady Olenna used that tone. They ran, using the crowd as cover. Soon, they were at the royal stables, and her grandmother was pushing her towards a beautiful stallion. "Grandmother, what–"

"We've no time to argue, child, ride to the city gates, our men will be waiting for you. Then, shed all indications of your heritage, no one is to know who you are and what happened to you. Ride north, and do not stop for anything."

Margaery desperately wanted to protest, but she knew it was pointless. If she wanted to get out of the city before they closed the gates, she would have to go without hesitation.

As she rode towards the city gates, she heard the bells ringing. The King was dead.

/*/

Sterlan Florent had been a knight in Highgarden for many years, but he had never spoken directly to the Dowager Lady of Highgarden. When she ordered him to choose two of his most trusted men and wait outside the city gates for Lady Margaery, he knew something was about to happen. He received a raven as the wedding feast started, and the instructions it carried filled him with dread.

He and his men, Darrin and Brandeth, were to escort Lady Margaery – who was to be called Bethany Flowers – to Bear Island, in the north, with all haste. The Lady Olenna feared for her granddaughter's life, apparently.

It wasn't until the bells rang to announce the King's death that Sterlan realized just how desperate the situation was. He held up the yellow rose that was the only thing to signify his allegiance, and waited for Lady Margaery. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait very long. She came barreling through the gates moments before they closed, and almost sped past them. He urged his horse onwards, trusting his men to follow and rode alongside her. "My lady, follow us!" he shouted, holding up the flower for her to see. She looked panicked, but only nodded and guided her horse to follow his, even as they kept galloping away from the city.

It took two hours, and Lady Margaery almost falling off her horse in exhaustion, for them to dare to stop. Sterlan gestured for his men to follow him off the road. They'd have to keep off them from now on, and they definitely couldn't risk stopping on such a busily travelled road.

Lady Margaery seemed resigned. "Time for me to become someone else," she said softly as he helped her off her horse.

Sterlan felt sorry for her. She had to give up her identity, and would probably never see her family again. "We've brought you new clothes, my lady," he said, digging them out of his saddle bags.

She looked at him sadly. "You cannot call me that anymore. As of a few hours ago, I am no more a highborn lady than you are," she said, offering a weak smile.

He nodded his head respectfully and handed the new dress over. "Your grandmother gave me a letter," he said hesitantly as she began to take down her elaborate hair. "You are to be called Bethany Flowers, my half-sister. We're travelling north, to Bear Island." He could tell the Lady wanted to ask why, but she restrained herself.

Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "My grandmother always did have an odd sense of humour. Bethany was a distant Redwyne relation of hers."

Brandeth held up a blanket, so she could change behind it quickly, they had no time to waste on privacy. Though he closed his eyes, Sterlan couldn't imagine it was very comfortable for Margaery - no, it was Bethany now.

Lady Margaery Tyrell was now dead to the world, but Bethany Flowers was just about to start a new life.

A/N: And so it begins! We know it's short, but be sure to let us know what you think!