Code by bannertech.
By the sheer grace of the gods, she'd survived. It had been pandemonium. So many people from the court trying to force their way out of the doors. Somewhere in the mass exodus, Loras' hand had fallen from hers. The Sparrows realized too late what was happening. Margaery had managed to slip free, but her father and brother had been bared from the exit, The High Sparrow grasping the last two prisoners he had left.
He had let his hubris get the better of him and because of that, a large number of the city was killed. It was all such a blur. The sudden feel of the sunlight on her skin, the blinding light as she pushed through the doors, and then a loud whoosh and bang and then everything went black.
When her consciousness returned, she was in the harbor, leaning against the wall with her legs dangling in the water. Then the haze set in, the moving through the motions. She had no place to go and she was a fugitive. Cersei would have her killed and it was unlikely that Tommen (sweet, pliant Tommen) could protect her. Her family was weakened and there was nothing in High Garden left for her.
Without thinking, she had managed to intercept a carriage (disguised, not that anyone would recognize her in the state she was in) and headed North. She had one friend she could trust, someone who had experience of evading the Lannisters. Sansa was at Winterfell, according to the reports others gave. Winterfell was the last refuge open to her.
When she arrived at the gate, she allowed the men to talk around her. The carriage driver who delivered her safely, the guards keeping vigil, and those who attended on the new King of the North. Someone darted off to alert him, she couldn't say who or why. It was all such a blur. She was waiting still for her mind to start once again and to feel anything. Pain, sadness, anger. She was numb and tired.
Fit for the crypts beneath the castle.