closed for @oflioncss || harry’s celebration at the inn
Tobin was never one to let his guard down often, perhaps it was just in his nature, or it was just how he was always trained. Regardless, tonight was one that he allowed himself a sense of comfort in his surroundings. After all, Renly seemed insistent that they all take a moment, enjoy the now, before surely the entirety of Westeros was up in arms against one another. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind, downing another ale with his fellow knights and chanting along to funny ballad’s and laughing more than he had in quite some time.
It didn’t take long for him to spot Myrcella Baratheon. Her golden hair shone above all others, her skin practically glowed, and her cheeks were especially rosy tonight. He assumed, like him, she was letting her guard down, and for once he felt brave enough to not be a fumbling idiot around her as he usually was. “Myrcella.” He announced to her, giving a bow, much too exaggerated, but more graceful than he ever had. “Are you enjoying the evening, princess?”
Myrcella was beginning to see just why her parents had always loved wine so much. Sure, she’d been drunk before, but between the carefree excitement in the inn and the free-flowing spirits, she felt a bit as if she could take on the world. Passing along from one conversation to another, talking to friends and enemies and strangers alike, Myrcella found herself particularly grateful for their host of the evening. It seemed as if the lords and ladies of the realm had dropped their courtly masks for the evening, and Myrcella had joined in right along with them. Gone was the prim and gracious princess, in her place the wild and free young woman she hadn’t been since she’d left Dorne.
“Ser Tobin,” Myrcella greeted with an exaggerated curtsy, still perfect in her manners even as the room seemed to spin around her. “Oh, it’s such a marvelous night, is it not? I do so hope you are enjoying yourself as much as I am.” Her usual innocent smile had turned into something wide and open, and she grasped ahold of his hands in earnestness. “Have you seen Ser Arys? He’s been given the night off, but whoever will protect me now?” With a laugh as if the whole world was a joke, Myrcella spun around, nearly spilling her wine as she made a show of searching for her beloved protector.
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