Margaery Tyrell (
tyrelltempest) wrote in
randomosity2016-06-12 09:41 pm
[For Hannibal] Alliance of Fire
Renly Baratheon was dead, leaving his claim to the throne empty and his wife Margaery Tyrell a widow. Roose Bolton, of course, could spy an opportunity a mile away. He sent a raven to Highgarden, to Lord Mace Tyrell. Roose proposed that his youngest son and only legitimate heir be married to Margaery. Mace agreed, rather quickly as well - likely out of fear for the Bolton name.
But of course, Olenna Tyrell wasn't about to let that agreement happen. At least not on any terms but her own. So the agreement was made, but a time for delivering her to Winterfell had not been determined, and Olenna was not about to agree to one.
Ramsay Snow, wanting to be useful to his father and acknowledged as a true Bolton, decided to take action on his own. He took a small band of Bolton men and rode to Highgarden - he knew Margaery was there, after her day-long marriage to the late King Joffrey had ended. He kidnapped the Tyrell heiress and rode back to Winterfell. When he arrived, he dragged Margaery in with no amount of mercy or delicacy. He found his half-brother and father in a sitting room going over charts and battle strategies. Margaery, clad in a light dress with a keyhole opening at the front showing her cleavage and wrapping around her lower back, showing off the curves of her back and the lean muscle beneath her skin. Her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps, her lips slightly dark and a light shade of blue. But all the fire and anger was in Margaery's eyes. She wrenched herself free of Ramsay's grip and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth.
"Unhand me, mongrel!" she hissed.
"Dear father, brother - see what I've brought? We'll not have the Tyrells welching on their agreement any longer," Ramsay grinned. "The flower is a little frosty, but only because she did not appreciate my generosity of allowing her to ride in the carriage."
"What I did not appreciate was a bastard snatching me from my ancestral home and dragging me with no proper clothes into the North," Margaery snapped.
She so badly wanted to shift towards the fire, but she was bound and determined to stand tall and tough. Ramsay obviously thought her weak, she would prove him wrong.
But of course, Olenna Tyrell wasn't about to let that agreement happen. At least not on any terms but her own. So the agreement was made, but a time for delivering her to Winterfell had not been determined, and Olenna was not about to agree to one.
Ramsay Snow, wanting to be useful to his father and acknowledged as a true Bolton, decided to take action on his own. He took a small band of Bolton men and rode to Highgarden - he knew Margaery was there, after her day-long marriage to the late King Joffrey had ended. He kidnapped the Tyrell heiress and rode back to Winterfell. When he arrived, he dragged Margaery in with no amount of mercy or delicacy. He found his half-brother and father in a sitting room going over charts and battle strategies. Margaery, clad in a light dress with a keyhole opening at the front showing her cleavage and wrapping around her lower back, showing off the curves of her back and the lean muscle beneath her skin. Her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps, her lips slightly dark and a light shade of blue. But all the fire and anger was in Margaery's eyes. She wrenched herself free of Ramsay's grip and pulled her lips back to bare her teeth.
"Unhand me, mongrel!" she hissed.
"Dear father, brother - see what I've brought? We'll not have the Tyrells welching on their agreement any longer," Ramsay grinned. "The flower is a little frosty, but only because she did not appreciate my generosity of allowing her to ride in the carriage."
"What I did not appreciate was a bastard snatching me from my ancestral home and dragging me with no proper clothes into the North," Margaery snapped.
She so badly wanted to shift towards the fire, but she was bound and determined to stand tall and tough. Ramsay obviously thought her weak, she would prove him wrong.

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He had paid her a kindness by giving her pleasure and maintaining her maidenhood. She intended to prove that she was no novice in the bedroom despite being a virgin.
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The taste of his pre-cum was salty and musky - but she liked it. She wanted more.
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Margaery drank his release and licked his cock clean before emerging from beneath the covers again with a playful smile. "Was it what you expected, my Lord?"
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He was curious if she would question why his cock was still hard.
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"You're still hard even after releasing so much into my mouth. Did you not enjoy yourself, my Lord?" She looked up at him.
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"Let us hope the storm does not last long. The sooner we return to Highgarden, the sooner we may be wed."
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But she rose from the bed and dressed for dinner. Margaery dressed in a dress of soft velvet and rabbit fur that the maids had redone for her.
****
The storm lessened in the morning, just in time for a raven to arrive from Highgarden. The message from Olenna Tyrell to Roose Bolton was clear: the Bolton Bastard was not welcome in Highgarden, and would be killed on sight if he showed his face. Which prompted Margaery to encourage Ramsay to come anyway.
The caravan began the trek to Highgarden after breakfast. Margaery was put in a small carriage with her maids. Every stop though, Margaery ventured out and enjoyed the scenery with Hannibal.
When they arrived at Highgarden, Margaery peered out the carriage window. She was overjoyed to see Highgarden again. But something wasn't right. The guards stood atop the turrets with arrows ready and trained on the Bolton caravan. Olenna Tyrell stood at the entrance with a mortified Mace Tyrell and Margaery's older crippled brother. The second the carriage stopped, Margaery bolted out. Olenna was relieved.
"Margaery! Thank the gods, child," Olenna stepped closer and Margaery ran to her. "Are you hurt?"
"No, grandmother I'm fine," Margaery looked around. "What's going-?"
"Lord Bolton," Olenna cast a glare to Roose. "I would speak with you. Inside. Now." Olenna wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer. She took Margaery's arm and led her inside.
Mace Tyrell looked terrified. He had not his mother's bravado.
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Hannibal had dismounted and assisted his betrothed out of the carriage so that she could see her grandmother. The pups whined a bit when she left and he silenced them with a snap of his fingers before closing the door so that they would remain in the carriage.
His personal men would keep them safe for the time being.
Roose had dismounted and frowned at the hostile greeting. He gave a nod and followed her inside. Hannibal was quick on his father's heels. He would not be absent from this conversation.
Once they were stopped, Roose spoke. "My Bastard remains in Winterfell. His actions in no way reflect the intentions of my house. It was dishonorable and he was justly punished for what he did." He said flatly.
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"Grandmother, really, I'm fine. No one's mistreated me in Winterfell," Margaery chimed in.
"Except for the bastard," Olenna rolled her eyes. Only then did she look to Roose. "Where that runt gets his nerve is beyond me, Bolton. He comes charging in here, takes my poor granddaughter and has likely terrorized her gods only know how!"
"He hasn't grandmother," Margaery squeezed Olenna's arm. "My betrothed has protected me, I promise."
"Your betrothed, that's another matter!" Olenna glared at Roose. "You had no business arranging such a marriage with Mace Tyrell. Make no mistake, I am head of House Tyrell. Margaery will be wed to whom I say she will be wed. Now tell me, why would I allow her to marry a northman whose clan still honors the horrid first night ritual? And don't bother denying it. I know that's damn well how your bastard was conceived. It explains a lot, really."
Margaery looked distressed for a moment, but knew her grandmother was not in a mood to listen to her. Nothing she said would do any good.
"Why would I marry Margaery to a Bolton? Margaery was born and bred to be Queen. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not some icy stretch of land in the North." Olenna kept her ominous look as the servant brought the tea and cakes.
Mortified, Margaery took a honey cake and nervously nibbled at it. Her father was sweating bullets beside Olenna. She was going to get everyone in Highgarden killed.
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Hannibal gave a respectful bow to his father and then focused his gaze on the Queen of Thorns. "I personally delt severe punishment upon my half brother for his rude actions against both of our noble houses. He is still in the infirmary after his punishment." Hannibal began. "While your granddaughter was in Winterfell, I took it upon myself to ensure her safety and health while we prepared to return her to Highgarden. I can assure you that she was well fed and was given free reign to explore Winterfell at her pleasure."
He paused for just a moment before continuing. "As for your other concern of my family's past rituals. As of today, House Bolton no longer partakes in such barbaric rituals. It is a flawed tradition that has caused embarrassment of my house." He said with authority in his voice.
Roose nodded in agreement, "My bastard is the last a Snow from a Bolton. As far as your concern of your Granddaughter remaining in the North for the rest of her days, you should not be so concerned. My son is a wiser about politics than I am. He is also ambitious, I have no doubt that he will become established further south then Winterfell." He said.
The Boltons were known for being very strategic in wars and always ending up on the winning side. If the other houses killed each other off quickly enough then the Bolton's could swoop in and claim victory.
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"And I suppose you expect me to take your word for that?" Olenna tilted a brow. "The word of a man who took up arms with the Lannisters and organized the horrid Red Wedding."
Margaery placed a hand over her grandmother's arm and looked to her with soft eyes. "Grandmother..."
"No, my dear, if I am to trust these men with your safety, I will know their true intentions," Olenna replied before looking to Hannibal and Roose. "How am I to trust you with my Margaery, knowing what you did to the noble House Stark?"
Margaery looked to Hannibal, silently pleading for him to be patient and persistent with her. Olenna would not respect a man who backed down like Mace.
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