Margaery laughed at that. A hand came to her mouth in a delicate gesture. She smiled to Hannibal and twirled a lock of her soft brunette hair around her finger. "At least your sigil is one that inspires fear, as sigils were intended. Unlike mine, it depicts us as weak, delicate flowers."

She had always hated the golden rose. Olenna had always hated the golden rose.

But Margaery noted the warning and nodded slowly in understanding. "I mean not to be rude, my lord, but it has been a long day indeed, might I have some privacy so that I may rest?"