With a dawn as red as her long hair, Margaery awoke. She sighed charmingly and arose with a grace befitting her birth. She stretched, the wrinkles in her emerald, gold trimmed silk evening gown gently unfolding to reacquire the robe's original form. She laid back down for a moment, propping herself on several pillows. Here she remained for a moment, in comfort, before she suddenly felt a very powerful urge resonating from her bowels. Taking a breath, she rose off the bed, and waged her options for her relief. Her privy was a bit down the hall, and the grumbling from her flat midsection was growing more with each passing moment, while her half meter tall porcelain chamberpot was nearly adjacent to her.
With a moment's thought, Margaery pulled on her slippers and started for her privy. As amusing it would be to watch Mira and Sera try to move the pot to empty it after she was done with it, she was rather sure it wasn't large enough to contain her most recent feast alone, not withstanding her last breakfast and lunch. Her hurried footsteps muffled by her footwear, Margaery hurriedly opened her bedroom door and started down the pink brick hall. After nearly half a minute, she reached the oaken door and nearly tore it off the hinges with strength unbefitting of her size. She then raced in, slammed the door behind her, and hastily affixed the latch, before untying her gown, throwing it off herself, pulling down her small clothes, and taking a seat. She did her best to be as polite as she could with the chorus emerging from her behind, but after a short while, she decided her comfort was more important than her servants, and released herself.
...
In a nearby chamber, Mira Forrester and Sera Durwell exchanged similar looks of disgust. While the less noble of bodily functions had found their place in court since the Queen Mother had tried to replace her dead son with meat and wine, the sound emanating from the privy was still sickening to the two girls.
"Do you think that's Lady Margaery?" Sera nearly shouted over the cacophony.
"Of course," Mira replied, "You saw the servants last night. Nine swans and a man-sized boar went into her chambers. Ten empty platters came out."
"That can't be possible." Sera replied, incredulous.
"By just sound, it seems that there is that much is certainly exiting her." Mira retorted under her breath before continuing, "And besides, we just watched Cersei eat one of those boars yesterday."
"That's different though." Sera began, wheeling about, "Cersei has a gut the size of an auroch. Lady Margaery is as slender as a birch."
"Then she's the one to talk to about learning how to do it." Mira replied, intent in her stare. Sera eyed her curiously, recognizing the look.
"You can even think about eating right now? And, not every moment needs to be a play for greater influence, Mira." Sera said softly, putting on her best sympathetic look while Margaery's sounds lowered to a softer tone.
"This may be a new vogue among nobility, Sera." Mira replied matter-of-factly, sternness painted onto her face, "The current Queen-Reagent is the progenitor of the court stuffing itself silly and allowing bodily functions to flow as they would, and the next Queen, Lady Margaery, seems to be not only a practitioner of this, but a master of it. People follow royalty, Sera, it may become that women who could literally eat their husbands in one sitting are seen as most desirous. If I can help my family by stuffing a dozen chickens a day down my throat, a lot of poultry is going to be on my plate."
"You're not the girl I met at Highgarden, Mira." Sera said disappointed, looking down.
"And if you had any sense, you wouldn't be the girl that I met." Mira returned, no inflection on her voice. "What of Lord Tarwick?"
"What of Garibald?"
"It's been two months since King Tommen's coronation feast. Has he spoke of marriage yet?"
"Well, we have - I- ... No. He hasn't." Sera admitted.
"And what if he goes to a feast one day, and spies some noble girl with the right name devouring a whole lamb by herself, and he takes an interest in her, by virtue of the interest she'll make around him."
"I- I- He won't!" Sera proclaimed indignantly.
"And what if he does? He's already suspicious of the Durwell "family." It is rather odd that you're the only Durwell in Westeros, wouldn't you say?" Mira continued, striking a nerve.
"And what about you, Mira?!" Sera snapped, "The only Forrester left! How many brothers did you lose? Two? Or was it three? Refresh my memory!" A very long pause occurred between the two, the room silent if not for the squelching sound of their mistress' defecation. Sera's face slowly twisted from anger, to horror at her own words.
"Mira, I'm -" Sera began, reaching her hand out.
"How dare you." Mira interrupted with a voice of ice. The pseudo-silence returned for a short while as the two locked eyes, before suddenly the noises from the privy ceased. The two continued staring at each other for a moment before Mira cut the silence;
"Come on, let's go serve Lady Margaery." Sera nodded silently as the two exited the chamber.
...
Margaery ran the linen up and down the length of her behind several times before discarding it into the privy. She was glad she no longer had to share facilities with her noble contemporaries anymore, she could simply leave the gag-inducing smell to time, rather then lighting the candles and incense she normally had to deal with when she took relief. However, with one gurgling in her gut quieted, another began, this one inviting thoughts of breakfast.Wondering what she would have made, now that she no longer had to worry about containing herself, Margaery undid the latch and pushed open the privy door, to see...
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