of-roses-and-thorns:

“One day I shall but these men are pleasing to the eyes, I cannot deny that.” She certainly felt young again, the feeling of mischief in the air. Margaery grabbed a small lemon cake, plopping it into her mouth. Her eyes surveying the men below. “I believe you are correct.” She peered down at the man.

“I believe someone is trying to gain your attention, over there to the right. Do you see him?” She gestured with her head, wanting it to be subtle. This was by far the most enjoyable thing she had done since arriving. She knew that she would soon be unable to use her free time for such trivial enjoyments but she wanted to make this time count.

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                   For all of Sansa’s wariness, it feels so liberating to give up a piece of her armour, to let in some of that awe and flighty dreams into her life, rose colors staining the corners of her vision. It’s freeing and it is so tempting to give in and live her life this way, to let herself forget that the high garden walls and fountains hide the evil that lurks beneath its cobblestone floors.

                   And yet, she allows herself this temporary reprieve. Its so simple but it brings her such peace (and excitement simultaneously) that she cant help but indulge.

                   "Isn’t he the son of one of the lord of the Stormlands?“ She asks as her eyes stray towards him. He is lithe, young– maybe a year or two older than Robb. He has short hair, a dull brown that glisten with his effort.

                   ”Oh, look! They’re starting another round. Who do you think will win this one?“ She finds herself catching the knights eye, cheeks blushing red as she offers a small nod of encouragement.