She was sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, slender and beautiful. The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse.
Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command.
#margy’s just like oh well I guess we’ll have to poison this one
