#donerowing

@donerowing

It wasn’t a typical for Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, she found herself in flea bottom, not surrounded by children this time. Usually she surrounded herself with the small innocent children who found themselves without family but not today. She wanted to be loved for all the right reasons and so today she was spending her coin on the smaller businesses and talking to the people whom she would one day oversee.

Her guards looked on clearly displeased at being in such a place, her handmaidens nervous. She on the other hand walked around confidently, smiling and greeting all those she could. 

“Shall we go in here next?” It was a question that need not be answered, they would follow her where ever she may go.

She walked forward into the small blacksmith, the bottom of her dress turning darker and darker in colour the more she walked forth. 

“Hello,” she greeted, wondering just how they would respond.

Actually yes, please make bread and make people eat the seed grain

@donerowing | For every ➰ I get, I’ll reveal a muse that I played in the past Alternatively: Send 💭 for a muse I wanted to write for but did not.

Miss Venus Van Dam - Sons of Anarchy

I will never fall out of love with her, she’s fantastic. I dropped playing her about the time I took a tumblr break and then when I came back I didn’t pick up any of my old blogs.

There was not much to do now except to wait. The ravens were sent - more than one, just to be safe. The Maester had done his work. Eastwatch was silent, a nervous tension hanging like a low, heavy cloud over the place. Waiting for the first blow to fall.

She had stared into the small fire a little too long, forgetting that she had meant to add another log. The warmth radiating from it a luxury, rations having been shortened in the face of the coming winter that was going to be long and gruesome. If any of them would even see the end of it, considering what was gathering beyond the Wall.

Small sparks danced around the flames when Talia finally pushed the small, chopped log into the fire and straightened, her gaze going back to the man lying in bed. Ser Davos, the Maester, they had probably made him tell them everything he could before the exertion had finally taken its toll on him, but Talia was dying to ask a few questions too.

What a curious thing to happen. A bastard turned king, the bastard of a king, a man having died more often than was healthy, a leader of the free folk, a red priest, an exiled Mormont and a Clegane coming together because they all believed in the same thing.

“ Ah, ” Gendry responds with a small smile of relief, glad to hear that this incident wasn’t one of foul play on the part of someone he would need to report to her brother or another member of the family. Not that he thought she couldn’t report it herself, but he felt she needed to be taken care of a little more than her siblings.

“ If it makes you feel better I hammered my hands many times when I was first learning how to smith. I think I broke my thumb at least twice during the first two years of apprenticing. ”

No rest for the wicked, as the old saying went. To her, it seemed as if that applied to the rest of the world barring the wicked. Cups were placed on a golden tray, a decanter of deep red wine joining them as she took the tray in both hands, struggling to hold the damned thing while crossing into the next chamber. Grazdan hadn’t allowed her a reprieve in these final days of her pregnancy, citing that he wouldn’t indulge laziness because of the whorish ways he’d forced her into. Her belly was hidden by the delicate folds of her dress, meant to keep her state from detracting from her beauty, or from offending her master’s visitors.

Talia was careful as she entered the salon, her gaze cast down while she poured wine for her master, the steel merchant, and the boy he’d come with. Slender hands doled out the cups, her wrist caught in her master’s grip when she passed him his, a gasp leaving her lips as she fought hard not to shudder. He only chuckled, holding her in place when she desperately wanted to flee. “The Unsullied will appreciate her child almost as much as your weapons. If the child’s blood isn’t sacrificed for them, I have an agreement with Kraznys mo Nakloz to give it to them if it’s a boy.” 

        How long had it been since she’d last set foot in the darkened crypt beneath Winterfell, since she’d last laid eyes upon the status and their haunting faces? Not long enough. It was only weeks, if that, since Cersei had sent her sister’s remains to Winterfell, carved and disfigured almost to the point of being unrecognizable. Almost. ‘The lone wolf dies, the pack soon to follow.’ Sansa had immediately crumpled the parchment and thrown it in the fire, cursing her sister for being so stupid as to attack Cersei alone, though the words only bled into tears.