> The plan worked. I am in position.
> M

The woman carefully put the note in a drawer, satisfied with the content. It took years to set everything up, manipulate, bribe, scheme and threat the way clear for the agent to be embedded. Now, finally, the Foundation had a direct access to the king again and no longer had to rely on hearsay and lower-ranked spies. Instead the agent could garner – and plant – the information they needed directly from the young king himself. She was really impressed by the agent – the girl was quickly becoming one of the most valuable assets to the Foundation. The death of Baratheon was turning out to be fortuitous after all.
Looking out of the window of her office, she took in the breathtaking view of Oldtown from this high up. It was a sight that always helped her focus and think about the next steps. Looking down from the citadel, the rest of Westeros seemed so small and yet so alive. Thousands of humans in Oldtown alone, just going about their daily lives, completely unaware of what lay hidden beneath their very feet. And she protected and controlled them all.

During the long descend to the tombs beneath the citadel, the woman was quickly sweating and breathing heavily. With some melancholy she remembered the days when she was able to get up all the stairs in half the time she now needed to get down. Not to mention all the other things her once nimble body enabled her to do. But there was nothing to be gained moaning her age. Time eventually comes for anyone, even if you were an Overseer of the Foundation.

Thanks to some secrets the Foundation guarded closely she had been able to elude the great equalizer for much longer than any normal human being. In her long life she had been a lot of things and carried a lot of names. Noble, Agent, Assassin, Overseer – even Queen. Of course that was a long time ago and surprisingly meant less power than what she had now. The Foundation didn't have to worry about politics when making decisions, a freedom she could not have imagined as Queen. And now she was their leader.

The reemergence of magic changed a lot of things. It led to the founding of the Foundation, to try and keep the dangerous powers and their unpredictable effects away from the common people of Westeros. Since then, the ancient tombs beneath Oldtown had been filling up at a steady pace. Of course to the public, the Foundation was still just the maesters of the citadel. But now even more than before they protected the people.

After a seemingly endless time the woman finally reached the bottom of the stairs. A short corridor lead to a door that was guarded by two heavily armed men in chain armor. “Overseer.” They nodded respectfully and one opened the door for her. Even more stairs were revealed and with aching legs the Overseer began her descent once more. She was glad that the way down to the tombs was not nearly as far as from her office to the ground floor of the citadel. For the probably thousandth time the woman wondered why she didn't move the office to a more comfortable place.

Finally she arrived her destination and opened the door to one of the cells. A man bound in heavy chains and flanked by two more guards looked up at her from his kneeling position. His face was swollen and heavily bruised and his hair had lost most of the brown it used to be but she still recognized him in an instant. “Hello Bran. I did not think you were still alive.” Margaery smiled widely when she sat down on the only chair in the room. “Why don't we have a talk?”