𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄
@TheReachsRose
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❦ 𝖦𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌?
@hiloedits
Joined December 2025
🥀— 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝒀𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑳
"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝."
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"The smell is disgusting and I have been here for awhile. I wish I could say you get use it but you don't, my lady."
"I'm fine, Lady Margaery. Even though this city is a nightmare for the nose."
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"What a wonderful surprise, your grace. How do you fare?"
“ good morrow , my lady . ”
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Lady Sabitha, how do you fare?
Good morrow
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"Good morrow, lord hand."
⠀ Good Morrow, Reader. ⠀
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She raised her cup at last in a subtle toast. “House Tyrell can make this war shorter, cleaner, and far more certain. The only question is whether the dragon wishes to rule over ashes or over something that still blooms.”
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We can keep King’s Landing fat and loyal while others starve and grumble. We can provision armies without stripping villages bare. And if banners must be called, Highgarden can summon more swords than most lords dare to count.” —
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She tilted her head slightly, studying him in turn. The scar, the sapphire, the coiled restraint. He was every bit the dangerous prince that rumours claim him to be. “The Reach feeds half the realm. Our granaries are full, our fields untouched by flame. —
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steadiness. If his words were meant to prod, to test for fracture lines, she did not splinter. She only smiled. "My grandmother doesn't pawn the crown off for no reason, my prince. My brother was wounded badly and she wished to be at his side." —
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Margaery accepted the cup with both hands. Her fingers brushed his only briefly accidental enough to be proper, deliberate enough to be felt. “How refreshing, my prince. To be spared the rehearsed courtesies. I should hate to bore you.” Her eyes held his with gentle —
As expected, she was courteous—her voice as melodic as the song of small birds, as though she had spent her entire life perfecting the image of a flawless lady. She would, without doubt, please his mother: modest and sweet, surely devout to the gods Alicent so dearly loved as —
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i am enjoying my hatred so much more than i ever enjoyed love.
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“Men twice your size have stood before me with sharper intentions and duller manners. You, however, look merely… perplexed.”
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Margaery tilted her head ever so slightly, that luminous smile never wavering as she regarded the towering Norseman before her. “Should I scream? You have not given me cause to.” Her gaze swept over him completely unafraid, assessing, curious. —
wait ...why is she smiling? most people would scream and run away upon seeing warriors like him. but here she's smiling. consider him confused but also intrigued ❝Well yeah, we've been here for quite some time❞ hence the male approaching her. he's quite the big man
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"Alliances? I wasn't aware that the wall needed Alliances. Unless the rumours are true and you left the wall." Margaery’s green eyes watching him full of curiosity.
Jon inclines his head to Margaery. "What do all seek in Westeros, alliances."
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ooc: Not Aemond trying to think of a way to make Margaery lose her control.
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ooc. I do believe that I am caught up except for a dm or two. Goodnight.
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"That is something that I have been trying to remind my family. I thought that I was the only one who understood this." She often thought about how easy it would be for them to overthrow the highborn. "The common people love you, Prince Rhaegar."
"When the mood strikes me. I go and play there time to time. It is peaceful." He would reply and gave her a nod as the instrument now rested in his lap. "The smallfolk are just as important as the nobility. But nobody likes hearing you say such a thing."
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my time or your own. My grandmother had urgent matters to attend, she sends her apologies."
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She let her gaze flick to the sapphire gleam set within his eye patch before returning to the living violet of his remaining eye, unflinching. There was no mockery in it only curiosity. "I would not be here if I couldn't speak for my house, Prince Aemond. I would not waste —
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Margaery did not so much as blink beneath the sharpened edge of his scrutiny. Her smile softened girlish now, more deliberate, as though she recognized the game for what it was and chose to play it well. “Your time is precious, my prince. As is mine.” —
Her smile was sweet as Dornish red, practiced and shaped into the pleasing likeness of a proper lady. As Aemond had heard, she ensorcelled young men and women alike wherever the Tyrells held court, and it surprised the prince not at all that her talent for honeyed words matched —
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