Margaery Tyrell (
tyrelltempest) wrote in
randomosity2017-07-17 09:55 pm
[For Hannibal] The Raid
Since the Lannister execution and the overthrowing of Tommen Baratheon, Hannibal had settled into the Iron Throne rather comfortably with Margaery at his side. The Bolton reign had begun. And having already amassed a strong brood of children, the dynasty looked as if it would be set for some time.
Of course there were those who opposed their new King. Remnants of those loyal to the Lannisters, or the true Targaryen loyalists who considered Hannibal an unworthy successor in comparison to Daenerys. There were minor uprisings, which were put down with ease between the Bolton and Tyrell army.
But a raven arrived one morning from Winterfell.
The royal family sat at the breakfast table. Rhys and Reina were bickering over the last biscuit, while Aenar crumbled his food between his tiny fingers, and Margaery held Lorys to her breast to feed her. A servant brought the note, addressed to Margaery, which Margaery took with her free hand. Her expression turned grave as she looked to Hannibal.
"It's from Sansa. She says a few days ago a messenger from the Dreadfort arrived and told her that there was activity stirring on the Iron Islands..." she was nervous. The Ironborn were a salty, devious lot. Her grandmother had always preferred the quasi-savage Dornish to the Ironborn.
No sooner had she read the message, then the signal horn sounded and Gold Cloak rushed in. Black sails bearing the golden kracken were approaching Blackwater Bay at top speed - faster than any ship they'd yet seen. Margaery went pale.
Of course there were those who opposed their new King. Remnants of those loyal to the Lannisters, or the true Targaryen loyalists who considered Hannibal an unworthy successor in comparison to Daenerys. There were minor uprisings, which were put down with ease between the Bolton and Tyrell army.
But a raven arrived one morning from Winterfell.
The royal family sat at the breakfast table. Rhys and Reina were bickering over the last biscuit, while Aenar crumbled his food between his tiny fingers, and Margaery held Lorys to her breast to feed her. A servant brought the note, addressed to Margaery, which Margaery took with her free hand. Her expression turned grave as she looked to Hannibal.
"It's from Sansa. She says a few days ago a messenger from the Dreadfort arrived and told her that there was activity stirring on the Iron Islands..." she was nervous. The Ironborn were a salty, devious lot. Her grandmother had always preferred the quasi-savage Dornish to the Ironborn.
No sooner had she read the message, then the signal horn sounded and Gold Cloak rushed in. Black sails bearing the golden kracken were approaching Blackwater Bay at top speed - faster than any ship they'd yet seen. Margaery went pale.

no subject
When he finished speaking she took a moment and just breathed in his scent. The Boltons always had a dark, deathly scent about them. Hannibal was no different, though unlike Ramsay his scent was pleasant, musky. Margaery's fingers ran down his chest, along his strong arms and down to his hips. She paused there, curious if she should, or could, continue. After a moment she did continue lower, squeezing his thighs as she realized he was right.
Her desire for him did indeed grow. And even though Euron lurked in the back of her mind, the memory was fading. Margaery opened her eyes and pressed her forehead against his.
"Hannibal-" she kissed him deep as her body pressed tighter against his. She wanted him. "Be gentle..." she whispered.
no subject
no subject
no subject
His hands were on her breasts as his mouth eagerly worked over the side of her neck.
no subject
The way his mouth worked over her sensitive neck made her whimper. She rolled her hips with his, building the friction between them. Margaery moaned as he hit each angle of her wet and aching walls. "Don't stop." She looked into his eyes. "Tell me more. Tell me how you love me. Tell me what you would do for me." She wanted to hear it aloud.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Her orgasm rushed through her, making her quake against him. Margaery kissed him hard as she water sloshed around them. After a few moments, she pulled back, still trembling and a little achey. "...Hannibal...would you...would you be angry if I said I do not want to conceive just yet?"
There was too much suspicion. If she conceived now, there would be some concern over the possibility that the child was born of Euron Greyjoy. If they waited several months, at least then the child would undeniably be Hannibal's.
Besides, they had four healthy children already.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Margaery had no issue standing naked so near to their balcony. But she leaned into him and made sure to stay close to Hannibal. She didn't want to be seen, lest her body be taken as an invitation.
no subject
Hisnarms were around her to hug her tenderly. He smiled as he looked at her. "We will only hold court for a very broef time tomorrow. We will be going on a hunt together in the afternoon. Does this please you?" He asked her with a smile upon his face.
no subject
The idea of a hunt had her curious. She tilted her head and looked up at him suspiciously. "A hunt?" she wondered if it was a true Bolton hunt, or something more traditional. "It does indeed sound lovely."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
“Now come...we should rest before our hunt tomorrow.” He said.
no subject
no subject
He laid them down in bed and pulled her close to him. He began to massage the back of her neck and the top of her head. He also began to hum an old lullaby. He hoped it would help her drift off to sleep. He had noticed that she struggled falling asleep the past few nights.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)