#ashedrose

M: "Are you ever of a serious disposition, brother?" T: "I enjoy causing a stir sometimes." M: "Often, you mean." T: "Often and well, may be more correct. Did you know that most of Renly's court believes I am in your bed?" M: "Mm, yes. And the other half believe you are in Renly's. " T: "I wonder which of the rumours will bother Grandmother more." M: "Neither, I expect. Grandmother was 'bothered' by the possibility of the first rumour coming true, not the rumour itself." T: "What was it she said to us? 'House Tyrell is not House Lannister'?" M: "You almost have her expression when you frown like that." T: "I should be so honoured, truly." M: "Remember, I am a Queen now, brother, and once this war is done, I shall see you named publicly as a proper Tyrell. Come, let us celebrate your fine showing." T: "I expect some of the gossip mongers to simply faint of shock when that day comes."

@ashedrose & @sigilsongs ; children, trueborn and bastard, of lord mace tyrell. 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒. the sun flower au.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘. it hardly feels as though they are still in westeros most days. when he is by himself , he feels far too alone. and when he is not , he feels like an outsider. watched too carefully.

sandor supposes he should be grateful for the shelter and the freedom it offers while he figures out what is next for him. little of him is expected and the lack of purpose is wearing at his own sanity. sandor would have preferred to drop margaery off and return to kill his brute of a brother before the coming war claims his life first. he cannot , however , go back to kings landing , not while cersei rules. not while his brother stands as her shadow. no , gregor is untouchable now. sandor would find a way eventually. his fate is written in stone and sandor finds it in himself to be patient.

sandor prefers to stay indoors these days. the reason behind that choice is not one that he cares to dwell on. when the sun begins to set , he allows himself out on one of the upper balconies — one he has found margaery returning from on more than one occasion. nice view of the sunset , or something he supposes. his heavy footsteps announce his entrance , soles of his boots scraping against the solid , rocky ground that is found all throughout the castle. upon spotting her on the balcony , he walks over to stand beside her. eyes mostly down and not out. and this is becoming a habit of his — finding her. she is more like home than anyone else around and he supposes he can accept that she brings him comfort. why he desires this comfort more frequently each day , he cannot say.

💗 send if you’re open to the possibility of a romantic ship eventually happening between our muses.

Margaery seemed awfully happy at this new revelation; Tyrion had been expecting signs of tears, perhaps anger - but not this, never this. The gardens seemed exceptionally pretty at this time of year, he reflected to himself as he walked along rather awkwardly beside his wife-to-be, although perhaps it was only his way of distracting himself. 

“Forgive me, my lady, but few highborn ladies” - or ladies at all, for that matter, his brain supplied him with - “would be enthusiastic at the prospect of being married off to the Imp.” Such words of self-depreciation came easily to him after years of being despised, hated, and looked down upon; they stung no longer.

But Tyrion was confused, and confusion had never sat well with him. He was beginning to get the sudden and intense suspicion that she was playing along and humoring him, and eyed her skeptically with his mismatched black and green gaze.

“There is nobody else,” he replied shortly, shoving thoughts of Shae forcefully from his head. She would have to understand; no matter what their relationship meant to him, he knew that for Shae, it was purely one of sex and business.

okay nonnie here goes!!!

@ashedrose : ❛  17 .   a  kiss  last  thing  at  night .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 , the two of them are all grain and fruit bearing and blooming too much for the island they reside on. some anchor and the rope. some chain and its brace. two parts of something that cannot seem to part. the south grows along their bones. they are products of it. and should one wonder how they are so difficult to separate?

heat knows heat. some escort of all hours of day and night — he has hardly minded the job. some arm for hers to rest upon. out one room and into the next. margaery has never made him feel as low as the position he's filled. it is more some social agreement than anything of employment. sandor is grateful for it. grateful for the normalcly. grateful for the closeness. he is some different beast entirely in the near-north in which they reside. shades of yellow and brown call him home.

they are some three , maybe four , steps from her chambers. at this point at night he might nod in some evening offering. turn his back. embark upon his stretch down the hallway. and yet this evening finds him frozen. eyes search her face for anything — they come up blank. she is as fortified as the castle they sleep in. sandor looks down at rosy cheeks. warm. less , so much less , like the stone of this place. there is red , even , in her collarbones. summer is the most faded expanse of his back. he could be it , any time. could return to the heat and the blisters and the RED of it all.

he thinks that she might could. or that she might just want to tonight. and he's all that exists in the SOUTH of things. the blue and rocky stay of dragonstone gives them more to talk about than he would have imagined. and yet they are , the two of them , tied. instead of a nightly greeting , sandor places a plated hand upon her shoulder. the other , finding no resistance , finds its way to her waist. every step of the way , he waits for some halting. some call of demand. and yet as far as he exists , there is none. goodnight turns into the red of his lips crashing onto hers. body aching against her own and pushing her into the blue-gray walls of dragonstone. moments pass before his lips leave hers. regret struggles to find him.