[ She smiles — more a sad little grin than the charming, mirthful beam she's known for. An army united with a purpose is a strong foe, indeed; the people here will hardly let anyone stand in their way, content to cooperate while devising their own plans to travel home. Margaery will be flown to Westeros, but King's Landing is anything but a true home. ]
Even in Westeros, I would not be allowed to return home.
[ But it is duty, a sense of obligation to House Tyrell, that prevents the melancholy from lingering. She rolls her shoulders into what might be a faint shrug, a clear sign of dismissal as he rifles through his bag and emerges with the mission directive. She gestures to the documents, head tilted. ]
no subject
Even in Westeros, I would not be allowed to return home.
[ But it is duty, a sense of obligation to House Tyrell, that prevents the melancholy from lingering. She rolls her shoulders into what might be a faint shrug, a clear sign of dismissal as he rifles through his bag and emerges with the mission directive. She gestures to the documents, head tilted. ]
What favors do they ask of us?