#ofholyhall

the capital was awash with one tiresome celebration after another - and cerelle loved parties, she might even call herself something of an expert - but it was a clear, beautiful morning in king’s landing for once. and sitting in the expansive ( not as expansive as highgarden, but how could they ever be? ) gardens by the sept of baelor, she could hardly smell the stench of the city all around them. but with no duties to dispense for margaery until dusk, cerelle had organised a little picnic for the tyrell daughter’s ladies. well, there were at least three different types of lemon cakes and enough wine to fell cersei lannister herself. and maybe it’s was just her and alyce, none of the other ladies they served with. but that was neither here nor there. it gave them the perfect opportunity to catch up away from prying nobles. 

spearing a piece of toffee into her mouth, tilting her head up towards the sun. “ did you see the look on lord baelish’s face? i thought he might faint. ” the queen of thorns had once declared that her most unattractive quality was her relentless gossiping, but cerelle vehemently disagreed: after all, had lady olenna never seen the crane after too much drink? she turned an unappealing shade of motley green, and green had never been her colour. rolling her eyes at the thought, she just ate some more toffee. “ so tell me, alyce, ” cerelle began liltingly, planting her chin on steepled fingers and beaming at her companion. there was a mischievous glint in her dark eyes - then again, when wasn’t there? but her voice was soft, perhaps out of fondness for the other woman, perhaps because alyce was with child. ( perhaps both. ) “ how are you feeling? ”