Margaery / Interactions. - Tumblr Posts
🪐 — margaery tyrell / tags.
🪐 — lil starter for @praeludio ( garlan )
KING’S LANDING WAS UNLIKE ANY PLACE margaery had been before. rather than a large keep with bountiful farmland surrounding its walls, this city was a sprawling metropolis, its homes & shops & marketplaces crowded tightly into the narrow streets beneath the red keep’s great shadow. it was a far cry from the elegant pathways of highgarden, winding leisurely through hedges & trees laden with flowers & fruit. but at least they were outside of the castle, margaery & her small host meandering through the busy marketplace. she had been warned countless times that red keep had ears in its very walls, & to speak with great caution while within, but surely no one could overhear a few words spoken between siblings within the clamor of the smallfolk. ❝ the city seems very grateful for our presence, ❞ she spoke aloud, reining her horse up beside her brother’s. ahead of her, a washerwoman held up a calloused hand for the future queen’s blessing, & margaery reached out her own graceful one for her to clasp briefly as they passed along, a kind smile perfectly positioned upon her lips. ❝ if only her grace felt the same way. ❞ her head inclines toward garlan in a gesture of secrecy, though she is comforted by the commonfolk shouting her name, shrouding her words in their cacophony. ❝ would that i could do something to gain her trust. ❞
🪐 — podrick payne ;
no other choice but this, no other path he would take even if he were given the option a thousand times before. there is almost laughter when @musecraft asks why, when her gaze lands on him as if she sees the entirety of his soul. for her, always for her. ❛ there are things you do only for love. ❜
SHE’D KNOWN BEFORE SHE ASKED, but she would never tire of hearing the sweet affirmations from his lips. & luckily, it seemed mo matter how many times she asked, her beloved never grew cross with her for being asked to repeat himself. ❝ well of course, i knew that much, ❞ margaery teases, her face smiling & her tone joyous as she clings tightly to podrick’s arm. ❝ but what i meant was, why me ? what have i done in this life that could possibly warrant such a fine love — from such a fine man ? ❞
🪐 —open prompt sent by @artereis / podrick ❛ i hope that you’re okay . ❜
SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ELATED. everything her family had worked for since the day she’d been born was finally within their grasp. after two failed attempts at making a strategically beneficial match for her, at last margaery had secured a betrothal to the eldest son of the royal family. she would be queen; it was her grandmother’s dream realized. but in spite of her family’s undeniable victory, there was a heavy weight that had settled in her stomach, a sense of dread that only grew more & more intense as her wedding date approached. & when podrick was standing before her, it became almost overwhelming. her breath caught in her throat & margaery began to despair — how could she marry another when her very heart felt as though it was trying to burst from her chest whenever podrick was nearby ? but it was not her choice to make; this was her duty to her family. her head held high in resolve, her lips curl into a well-practiced smile, though in her chest her heart is split open & aching. ❝ of course. it’s my honor to be of service to my family & to the kingdom. ❞ it wasn’t truly an answer to his question, & margaery hopes that it goes unnoticed — or does she want him to notice the false note in her voice, that somehow he will hear the truth behind her carefully measured words ? even she cannot say for what she hopes.
🪐 — MARIANNE SHERIDAN for margaery !
in art galleries in italy, two trains over from her family’s second home, she is given a chance to disappear. she imagines how she looks from outside of her body, imagines a mysterious kind of elegance that sits on her shoulders, has created every inch of her into a design of what she wants to be in their conscience. sometimes, she thinks she doesn’t exist outside of their thoughts of her, though she has cultivated a lifetime pretending otherwise.
@musecraft holds herself in a way that seems natural, a way marianne pretends to emulate, but always feels too sharp, like her bones are too splintered to fit that way. she has a habit of picking out people of interest, whether for good or bad reasons, finds herself gravitating to those who might bring something to her life. MARIANNE: it’s a bit derivative, isn’t it ? really she just likes saying the word derivative, one she practiced in front of the mirror when she learnt it, testing it on the tongue until it fell naturally, showing that she’s as smart as she’s always known she is. MARIANNE: i suppose some man just decided it was good once and no body thought to correct them.
IF ONLY SHE KNEW how carefully practiced her own posture was, hands folded neatly on front of her marianne might not think so highly of margaery. but part of the carefully crafted facade was that it should appear natural, rather than manufactured. it should not be clear to those who looked upon either of them that their idyllic composure was more veneer than reality. there was nothing more damaging to the illusion of poise than the idea that it was indeed falsified. but margaery had been perfecting the steps for years now, & her artful appearance was now nearly impossible to break through. she prided herself upon it, for it protected her well. & yet with marianne, moments of the truth creep in at the edges. they are not perfect, neither of them, no matter how hard they might pretend. & her opinion, harsh & unapologetic as it was, brought a smile to margaery’s lips. a real one, not one crafted to curve elegantly across her lips without wrinkling her flawless skin. no, this one was just a touch wider on the right side, leaving creases fanning out from the edge of her eyelids. ❝ it’s not terrible i suppose — art is subjective & the use of shadow adds nice depth. ❞ but she’s only fishing for something kind to say, & she gives up after a moment. the pretense really wasn’t necessary; not around marianne. ❝ but it’s certainly not in the running for my favorite piece in the exhibition. ❞
🪐 — plotted starter for ROBIN BUCKLEY from margaery !
EVERYTHING FEELS SO CROWDED in new york, the city's collection of towers often blotting out the sky itself with concrete & glass. it’s far from what margaery is used to. her own roots run through open sprawling farmland & lush orchards fed by a great glittering river. the hudson was rather brown by comparison, & she lamented that even the park lost some of its charm the moment that her gaze lifted enough to land on the skyscrapers cluttered against the backdrop. & yet, she must admit that there is a certain sense of excitement to this city, too — there’s so much to see, after all. though still, margaery often found herself returning to the one place in new york that feels familiar, that reminds her most of home : just a few blocks below central park, margaery had discovered a small block of parisian shops & businesses, the centerpiece of which was a small movie cinema that showed old french films in their original language. to disappear into the dark of the theatre & watch some grand drama or romance unfold across the enormous screen in her mother tongue always managed to make her forget how far she truly was from everyone she loved — at least for an afternoon. but today margaery is unlucky enough to arrive when the theatre is midway through the lunchtime show of du côté d'orouët, so instead she ducks into the cafe across the street to wait for the later playing. it’s a busy saturday afternoon, the tight space crowded with little tables that are already mostly occupied. & margaery hurries to order herself a coffee & pain au chocolat before hurrying to slip into one of the only still open seats before someone else can. but there’s hardly enough space between the tables, & she accidentally jostles the person sitting at the next table in her haste to sit. ❝ oh, pardon, ❞ she says to the person she’s disturbed : a girl who appears close to her own age, with short sandy hair & wide blue eyes, a travel guidebook for france in one hand & a half-eaten croissant before her on the table. & margaery switches smoothly to english at the sight of the travel book, a softly apologetic smile given to @scoopstrooptm as she takes the seat beside her. ❝ sorry to bother you. i hope it’s alright that i sit by you for awhile — there isn’t much room. ❞
🪐 — GARLAN TYRELL for margaery !
Opportunities like that, to be able to leave the castle walls and move away from what he perceived as an oppressive atmosphere, would become rarer and rarer the quicker the wedding approached. Already it was difficult in those times to find a moment of quiet and privacy; the keep, while welcoming to the soon-to-be-queen and her family was not a place the knight looked forward to spending a long amount of time in, distrustful of most of its inhabitants. A distaste so far he voiced, in whispers even though he was walking through the keeps gardens and no one else was around to hear, only to his lady wife — and plans were already in motion for after the wedding, to take the castle he had been granted with his actions on the battlefield and leave the capital behind. A luxury that couldn’t be granted to his sister — albeit things were supposed to change once she was the bearer of the title of queen. ( And for that his father’s goal was to cement Tyrell’s influence even so far from the Reach, win the people’s favour at the expense of the king’s family. ) « The city is most grateful for your presence, » Garlan corrected her in a lower tone than hers, a smile lighting up his visage for a moment as he turned to look at the girl. Both statements were true; the city was grateful for the arrival of the Reach’s army as they saved it — and they welcomed their young future queen as a symbol of a new era of peace. And Margaery was perfect in the role — all smiles and kind words, helping those in need, it was impossible to resist her charm. The crowd gathered around them as they passed, chanting her name, was proof enough of how the people of King’s Landing were already in love with her. « I’m sure Her Grace too will show her support and blessing, in time, » he continued, adjusting the pace of his horse so that it matched his sister’s, side by side, looking ahead. He refrained from adding more; he didn’t wish to affect the girl’s mood. It was difficult in truth to say whether or not the queen would show herself more open towards his sister in time; he could only hope, though his instincts were different. « And how does His Grace feel? Have you gotten to know him? »
HER SECOND WEDDING would be nothing like her first, margaery knew. & even renly had not been her first intended husband — less than a year ago, her family’s plan had been to wed her to king robert & have their young daughter bear a legitimate heir to the aging king. but she had learned quickly that kings could die just as any man could, & sometimes with very little warning. & so her wedding had happened with precious little grandeur or ceremony in spite of the wealth of their union, rushed in the wake of king robert’s death. & the marriage itself had been just as barren as the ceremony, renly seemingly far more interested in the troops that their formalized alliance would afford him than finding time for his new wife. but her second wedding would be massive. half of the nobility from across all seven kingdoms had been invited to the city in order to celebrate the union of the king & his young bride, which would forever cement house tyrell into the upper echelons of royalty within the seven kingdoms. her family’s dream for generations, all balanced now on her petite shoulders. still, margaery does not let the pressure bend her spine, does not let her uncertainties reveal themselves — this is what she was born to do. yet in spite of her years of practice, margaery feels her smile flicker at her brother’s question — though only for an instant, certainly not long enough for anyone in the crowd to notice. ❝ not near as much as i’d like. but then, it wouldn’t be proper to see each other without a chaperone present until we are wed. so in the absence of any true privacy, we’ve mostly exchanged pleasantries. & he has been kind to me thus far. with his words at least, the king has been every bit as polite as he is handsome. ❞ although his prior betrothed, sansa stark, had warned her that the handsome & chivalrous exterior of the young king was not to be trusted. & who would know better than she, who had lost her father at his command ? margaery may be young & a maiden still, but she was not naive enough to fall for pleasant manners & well-practiced courtesies — how could she, when none could play that particular game better than she. ❝ grandmother says that ours is to be the wedding of the century — that it will be all the smallfolk talk about for a decade, at least. but i pray only to be a good wife to his grace, & a good queen to his people. ❞ & she gives garlan a rare genuine smile, glad to have someone that she trusts at her side while finding her footing in this nest of snakes they call a capitol.
🪐 — PODRICK PAYNE for margaery !
CAST ( IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE ) , MUSECRAFT IN THE ROLE OF MARGAERY TYRELL , DESTAGE IN THE ROLE OF PODRICK PAYNE . THE SCENE OPENS TO A BUSY BALLROOM, COUPLES DANCING IN THE MIDDLE AND GOSSIPING OFF TO THE SIDE, AND THEM, STANDING BY THE DOORWAY.
conversations come carefully , stood off to sidelines , careful that impropriety cannot be noticed , that nothing scandalous can come her way . even if hopeless for his own heart , he wants better for her , wants to never be considered anything other than a lightness in herself . still , he can’t help the longing , the need to be close to her , if even for a moment . ❛ can i have the next dance? ❜
EVERY EYE FOLLOWS HER when she moves through the room, but margaery is well used to their weight, & has learned to bear it with all the grace that is expected of a girl of her station. yet it is still a gift indeed when she finds herself able to take a grateful pause in the presence of the boy who has brought her such comfort through the trials of court. & when podrick asks her hand & the music swells again, margaery’s smile only grows wider, a genuine tilt to her lips that only the keenest of eyes would notice hadn’t been there before. ❝ how kind — it would be my pleasure to dance with you, podrick, ❞ she replies, & the scent of roses is in the air when she moves a step closer to him & rests her satin-gloved hand atop his forearm. a dance with him would surely be the high point in her evening; for what other opportunity would they have to stand so close ? ❝ how are you enjoying the ball ? ❞