herunfailingkindness replied to your post:

Margaery’s fingers gently brushed against her dear friend’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it, my dear Sansa. What can I do?”//-curls around sansa-

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

“My lady, I am the daughter of a traitor.”

         { and maybe if you blink, you will miss it:
         the thread of pride running through her
         words, flashing in her eyes like the glint
         of a steel sword on a wintry afternoon.
        she sings the hymns they force upon her
        but her songs are a cautionary tale, her
        own prayer without a religion, just will. }

“It will heal. But thank you for your concern.
                          You are too kind, lady Margaery.”