FOR MARGAERY TYRELL / BETROTHAL PLOTTED . @win-cr-die
Ramsay , now newly crowned with the Bolton name , freed from his life as a mere bastard , stood in Highgarden with eyes laying focus on his bride to be . The young Tyrell carried herself gracefully to his side gowned in ivory , and he watched as her father removed the cloak stitched in their house emblems , before replacing it with his own -- A southern symbol of tradition , as he would now take her father’s place in her source of protection . The Bolton’s shades of black and grey suited the rose quite nicely . Perhaps it was because of the overbearing sight of bright colours the gardens offered ; it was obnoxious, really , how sheathed their wedding was with flowers of every kind known to man .
As Ramsay gently pulled curly brown strands out from under the black cloak , her striking beauty admittedly caught his eye . He was not blind -- She was magnificent, regardless of his initial disinterest in the love and loyalties required in a typical betrothal . Though he’d expect her to be like any lady ; Weak and boring . She would be nothing but a prize possession , a woman needed only for his own power and political gain . ❛ You look stunning . ❜ He says with passion , a small smirk curled at his lips as he then took a gentle hold of her hand , but before they turned away from the crowd , he eyed the woman he did love , truly , who stood aside with a visible look of displeasure . He pay no mind , rather smoothly fell into their recited vows . In fact , the words came easily to him -- They were just words , after all . He spoke no truth , but was always flawless in appearing as if he did . ❛ With this kiss , I pledge my love -- and take you for my lady , and my wife . ❜ His striking blue eyes met hers , a thumb caressing the side of her hand ; though that show of affection was done only to light fire to the jealousy he knew Myranda would be enduring having been forced to watch .
