𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 Podrick Payne

Feast with a lion

♔

( LANGUAGE OF THORNS )

O N E | FEAST WITH A LION

Many days and nights had passed since the roses arrived in Kings Landing. Here she was, now sat in her new bedchamber while her hair was being redesigned. Her golden nightgown dropped to the floor as she watched her reflection in the mirror in front of her. Her handmaid worked through her brown locks ever so carefully, wondering what the princess was thinking about.

She dreamt about Highgarden every now and then, dreamt about wandering through the lonely halls in the middle of the night, just to get an inch of freedom. Her father was always persistent, always making sure that she was inside in the daytime to learn about ruling in the proper way. She knew that it would have been all for nothing, because she knew that she would never be Wardeness of the South, and she didn't mind it.

Her siblings knew about her late night strolls, and sometimes one of them or all of them would be waiting for her in the gardens where they'd spend hours catching up, considering they did not see Margaret a lot during the day. They had done it for many many nights, and somehow managed not to be caught.

Her fingers grazed over the rose stamp before her eyes drifted away from her reflection and towards the letter in her hand. She had written to Willas, just like she had promised. He had gotten back to her in no time, and to her delight he informed her that he and Garlan had received an invitation to the Queen's wedding. It was a short and brief letter, but it would keep her satisfied until they arrived.

"Has anyone asked for any meetings today?" the rose spoke suddenly, making the young handmaiden look up. The handmaiden thought for a moment, before shaking her head and continuing to braid the girls hair.

"No, my lady. You only have the feast tonight, with the Queen Regent and The King" the girl answered.

"God I'm tired of this stupid City" she complained, her handmaiden staying quiet "Perhaps I shall speak with the Stark girl today. I wonder if she's enjoying her time in Kings Landing now that she won't be marrying that monster who sits on the throne"

"My Lady you shouldn't say these things" Fiyona suddenly said, eyes wide. The rose glanced at her handmaiden through the mirror, eyebrows raised in question as the girl behind her swallowed nervously "I only mean that if the wrong people hear you.. they would have your head for speaking against the King"

"Like they took Ned Starks head you mean?" she questioned before standing up, her hair falling from the girls hands. The handmaiden looked up at the rose before looking down at the floor, afraid that she might have said the wrong thing to her lady "They can certainly try. Besides, the wrong people aren't going to hear me. As far as I can see Fiyona, you and I are the only ones in this room... and you know, that I trust you with my life"

The two glanced up at each other, and to the girls shock, the rose grabbed her hands delicately. Her skin was cold but the rose felt gratitude towards the handmaiden for looking out for her for so long. Margaret was a highborn, and Fiyona was nothing but a lowborn handmaiden who had a name that wouldn't exist if she were to die.

She was the last of the Felsteads, it wasn't a common or popular name. In fact, no one knew it.

The Felsteads were a small family who lived in the Reach amongst the Tyrells, luckily for Fiyona her father had been close with the Warden of the South himself. Her father had died in battle, and her mother had died in childbirth due to her going into labour too soon after she grieved the death of her husband. She had never met either of her parents, but it was soon the Tyrells who took her in and promised that they would take care of her.