sixthiterationlogs | Winter Has Come...and Won't Go Away!

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 3/15
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None

Between the snow and the cold, whatever brave face Margaery had been able to put forward had been sorely tested again and again. Still, it wasn't enough to interrupt her usual routine. She cared for her animals as best as she was able, and with the influx of wool and bits of cotton that she had grown, it allowed her to create fabrics for the village's use. There were blankets as well, the usual sort she wove, especially for Winter, and while her bees were sleeping, there was at least milk from her cow and goats.

It was a strange feeling to bring these items to the inn, as though she were a woman at market. She had been a patron, and made certain that she visited as many merchants as she could while queen. But she never lived this way, carrying butter, milk and fabrics to trade with others.

She spread her wares on the table, the usual way anyone seemed to trade in this place. Seated next to it, she continued her mending and embroidery, ready to set it aside if someone showed an interest in her stock. At least it was warm inside and away from the snow. She couldn't imagine how merchants managed otherwise.

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Loras found it all a bit amusing. He couldn't help it. He knew that they weren't what they used to be, not anymore, but there was something irresistibly funny about it all. Margaery, setting up her table, keeping herself busy while she waited for buyers. It was easily the most Loras had smiled - or laughed - since he arrived.

"Can you imagine what our grandmother would say?" he asked, lips quirked up. He hadn't been so terrible as to let her haul her wares on her own. But he'd made sure to tease her the whole time. Even now as he took a seat beside her, he leaned over to nudge their shoulders together. "I can see the look on her face."

She gave her brother a playful shove, collecting everything from his arms as she spread it out on the table. He wasn't wrong though. Their grandmother would be horrified to see her like this, working as if she were a farmer rather than a Tyrell. It wasn't the life she intended for them.

"She would tell me I took leave of my senses." Only with a sharper wit. "She would think the Starks corrupted me." But she hoped that her grandmother would understand and see the necessity of this, even if it meant leaving behind the life they knew. "Can you imagine what father would think? He might choke at the sight of us."

"She'd think you were completely afflicted. Father, on the other hand." Loras made a face, and he couldn't help but laugh again. "He'd at least try to find something good about it. As aghast as he'd be."

But this was their way. Adapt and survive, growing strong. One rose on it's own was in danger, but in a group, in a briar, they were formidable. So at the very least, Loras knows their father - and grandmother - would approve that the two siblings were together again.

"Can I help with anything more?"

She leaned close to her brother, a conspiratorial smile, lowering her voice as though their family could overhear them. "Try to picture father farming or milking a cow. I think he would faint before sticking his fingers in the dirt." He had always been a bit apart from the management of Highgarden. Their grandmother was always the one that people deferred to and came to for decisions. She was the true ruler of Highgarden.

Spreading out Loras' tunic over her lap, she started embroidering, wanting to finish the golden rose near his collar. "Help me sort the blankets and spread them out so others can see the designs."

She smiled at her brother, "Have you thought about what you would like to learn to contribute to the village?"

"I ... Have." His brow furrows a little, and he focuses a little more on making the blankets look tidy. "Truthfully, I can't imagine what good I can be at all."

Which is not entirely true, and they both know it. Loras is more than capable of learning a skill and learning it well, when he decides he wants to do it.

"You're allowed to tell me I'm useless, you know. I won't be offended, I know what I'm good for." He'd never taken to books or learning. All he'd ever wanted to do was be a knight and the best at it, but there's no need for knights and their games here.

"Loras, do you think I had any skills to offer when I arrived? I didn't even know how to clean a plate after a meal, but I asked someone to teach me." It hadn't been such a great blow to her pride, though there had been days where she compared her old life to this. A queen digging in the dirt and birthing cows.

"You are not useless. You are only useless if you give up and don't bother to try." She fought for him several times before and would continue to do so. That was the crux of their relationship, mutual strength and support. "You should try hunting. You are familiar with using a bow. It would bring in meat to the village. I could also teach you to garden."

She paused and considered her next statement before offering, "Robb could go with you and show you the places to hunt."

He words make him purse his lips. Loras would rather take it upon himself, but he knows this place is strange, and it's better to have someone with him. Must it be Robb of all people?

And yet - Loras sighs. He'll take defeat on this one. He knows how fond Margaery is of him. He sees the way her face lights up and how happy she is, and it's not unlike how he'd be around Renly. Loras can't begrudge his sister that joy.

"If I won't be imposing upon him."

She sees the look and knows she is asking a lot of him. It's not a surprise that Loras isn't fond of Robb, he had made his distaste clear when Lady Stark had come to treat on his behalf. Though Margaery had always assumed that had to do with his claim rivaling Renly's.

Everything was different now and there could be no more grudges left over from their world. Gently, she placed a hand on his arm, urging him to look at her. "I know you aren't sure of him. I would like it if you could at least try to know him."

She wasn't expecting much, just a little respect. They didn't need to be friends. "He's the first man I've ever felt this way for, genuinely."

Winter Has Come...and Won't Go Away!

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