of-roses-and-thorns:

Margaery becomes instantly pleased, her mood brightening. It is something that brings excitement into her schedule ridden life, such things were possible before this war and her subsequent marriage to Renly. It almost feels as though she is fourteen again, almost like a child. 

“We must go then, the dress can wait. I shall let a squire know that we are in need of a dining area near the yard. I’m sure the knights will work extra hard for their future queen and the lovely Stark.” She grins, gesturing for Sansa to follow.

“Oh this is quite exciting, I have not felt this way in some time you see.” Her words are sincere, it’s almost a giddy feeling.

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

             Very few things bring her peace in this forsaken place and yet, the joy in Margaery’s eyes goes a long way in thawing her heart. She finds herself really enjoying her idea, more and more enthusiastic about it as the moments pass and the sun shines and the world, her world, takes a step back from its brink of collapse.

             Lifting her skirts, she ducks her head and lets out an airy laugh. It transforms her face into one of youthful beauty, rather than a mature aged coolness. Her auburn hair glints copper in the afternoon sun as she teases her friend. “My lady, I’m appalled. You are to be married.”

             "It seems as though you have a favorite.“