they smiled real wide for the camera lens | cersei lannister | august 31st; post burial
Of all the things she was not prepared for in the Red Keep, the heat hit Margaery first. She had expected the station to be cold, isolated in space as it was, but she found the metallic hallways warm, warm enough to make her wish she was wearing something aught than black. And yet, black she wore. Margaery was lucky that Olenna had thought to have mourning clothes packed. The sleeves were three quarter length, the skirt a-line and to the knee, the neckline demure, and yet suggestive with a sweetheart shape, enough to let anyone who watched her know that she was young, and beautiful, and the shoes, of course, were killer. All she wore around her neck was a peridot stone, large enough to prove her wealth and station, resting just above her bosom, and in her hair a band of black topaz, simple, but with a clear statement, alluding to the crown she wished she wore.
Her heels sunk into the plush red of the carpet as she waited outside the Empress’s chambers. In her note to Cersei Lannister expressing her most sincere condolences, she had requested a private audience, and surprisingly enough, it had been granted. Margaery was unused to the silence. Usually, her retinue accompanied her, the endless static of tittering and giggling filling each room, but here she felt the quiet sink into her. So still was it, she felt the AIs, no, the station itself might hear her thoughts should she dare think them too loudly.
With a quiet hiss, the doors opened. “The Empress Regnant will see you now.”
Stepping into the room, Margaery was struck by the opulence of it, the room was gold and red, the Lannister lion winking from the corners of each fabric, the golden chairs clawed and maned in golden fringe, and in the center, black dress long and dramatic, her blond her impeccable and unmistakable.
Graceful as a dancer, Margaery dipped into a low curtesy. “Your grace. I am so sorry, your great loss is felt by the whole System. You must be devastated.”
