gameofthronesembroidery-blog

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INFINITY WAR SUPPORT NETWORK

Since I’m emotionally broken after the movie I’ll start flooding the web with fluffy fics.

Reblog with any fluff fic you want of any OTP, alive or dead probably the latter looking at the numbers

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Nadia Garutt on Instagram

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The Van Gogh Collection, by Purple Fish Bowl on Etsy

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Embroidery by Jude Hill

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House Tyrell sigil in progress Some more roses and the design’ll be complete

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Ralph & Russo, Spring 2016 Couture

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madebyliss via Instagram

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Margaery Tyrell | Dany Atrache Couture Spring 2016

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House Tyrell Wedding Gown | A&J Bridal Collection 2016

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House Tyrell mourning gown | Alberta Ferretti Spring 2017

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House Tyrell | Paolo Sebastian 2018 collection

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House Tyrell | Teuta Matoshi

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House Tyrell

Anyone out there interested in a AU where there’s no explosion of the Sept of Baelor and Margaery can plot a marvellous, astonishing revenge on those who imprisoned her and her brother?

(If you are there’s a surprise for you on my blog or here https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603938 )

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The Stag and the Rose

“Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses.” 

“His companion was a man near twenty whose armor was steel plate of a deep forest-green. He was the handsomest man she had ever set eyes upon; tall and powerfully made, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and framed a clean-shaven face, and laughing green eyes to match his armor. Cradled under one arm was an antlered helm, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold.” - A Game of Thrones -

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A Rose in his Bed

“Tell me true, my lady. Do you think Margaery is still a maiden?” “She says she is, Your Grace.” “So she does. What do you say?” Taena’s black eyes sparkled with mischief. “When she wed Lord Renly at Highgarden, I helped disrobe him for the bedding. His lordship was a well-made man, and lusty. I saw the proof when we tumbled him into the wedding bed where his bride awaited him as naked as her name day, blushing prettily beneath the coverlets. Ser Loras had carried her up the steps himself. Margaery may say that the marriage was never consummated, that Lord Renly had drunk too much wine at the wedding feast, but I promise you, the bit between his legs was anything but weary when last I saw it.” “Did you chance to see the marriage bed the morning after?” Cersei asked. “Did she bleed?” “No sheet was shown, Your Grace.” A pity. Still, the absence of a bloody sheet meant little, by itself. 

A Feast for Crows Chapter 28 (Cersei VI)

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White Roses

The Knight of Flowers was in white silk, with a belt of golden roses about his waist and a jade rose fastening his cloak. They could be twins, Cersei thought as she watched them. Ser Loras was a year older than his sister, but they had the same eyes, the same thick brown hair falling in lazy ringlets to their shoulders, the same smooth unblemished skin. A ripe crop of pimples would teach them some humility. Loras was taller and had a few wisps of soft brown fuzz on his face, and Margaery had a woman’s shape, but elsewise they were more alike than she and Jaime. That annoyed her too.

Her own twin interrupted her musings. “Would Your Grace honor her white knight with a dance?”

She gave him a withering look. “And have you fumbling at me with that stump? No. I will let you fill my wine cup for me, though. If you think you can manage it without spilling.”

 "A cripple like me? Not likely.“

from A Feast for Crows Chapter 12 (Cersei III)