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 waited patiently as the servants prepared their lunch. He took the basket without complaint and carried it easily. He kept their arms looped together as they wandered the gardens. He saw her looking up into the trees. "Would you like for me to pick you some fruit?"
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Margaery gained a wicked smirk and looked up to him. "That is, if you don't gorge yourself on my sweet juices first."
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"Well, her wrath shall crash down upon you, not I," she laughed. "After your explanation of your vigorous talents over breakfast, how ever is a southern lady like me to resist crying out my pleasure to the gods?"
Margaery gave him a playful smirk before turning her back to him and striding ahead to put distance between them. Daring him to catch her.
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As if to show how well she knew the territory, right as she finished speaking, Margaery ducked into a maze of grape vineyards. She knew the way by heart, and easily dipped out of sight within a matter of seconds. Margaery laughed playfully as she moved deeper into the vineyards to hide from Hannibal.
"Here's your challenge, my love! Catch me, if you can!" Margaery kicked off her shoes so as avoid leaving holes in the ground from the elevated heels and have a trail lead to her.
She could hide for days here and never ve discovered, if she so desired.
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She might think she had the advantage. However, her scent would give her away to him. He had found her path and made an educated guess as to where she was going. He was lying in wait for her to come by. He expected her to be looking behind her rather than in front of her. He would step out and wrap his arms around her firmly when she was within reach. He kissed her deeply. "I have found you." He rumbled lowly.
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Thinking herself victorious, she moved forward, straight into his grasp. Margaery cried out in surprise, but was soon laughing even as he kissed her. She tipped her her head and deepened the kiss before she pressed more into him.
"Mmmm...so you have, well done my love," she plucked another couple of grapes, popping one into her mouth and offering him the second.
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He slipped his head beneath her skirts and kissed his way forward before using his sharp teeth to get past any final fabric barrier. He then licked over her folds before dipping his tongue within her as if he were scooping out pomegranate seeds. He slurped and suckled on her folds as he continued this action.
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"Mmmm, you're an impatient, ravenous man, husband," she chuckled. He would find no small clothes or petticoats beneath her gown to impede his way to her folds. As his tongue began exploring her, Margaery gasped and writhed against him. Her thighs squeezed gently around his head as she cried out, breathing heavily.
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He shifted his nose forward to rub back and forth over her clit to stimulate her further. He wanted her to be sopping wet for him and he wanted to taste her sweet juices quickly. Her cries would be muffled a bit from the amount of trees around them.
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"Gods, yes...just like that!" She begged. Margaery whined in arousal and need, feeling her core already beginning to tremble and squeeze. Tension was building inside her, and she knew she would burst at any minute.
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She walked up and around the corner to a beautifully carved and finished wooden bench. "Is this satisfactory to you, my lord?"
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He rocked his hips slightly before leaning in to brush his lips over the side of her neck. "How is your seat My Lady?" He rumbled into her ear.
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It was a good idea, and they would be fooling any potential passersby into thinking they were simply sitting upon the bench together.
As it happened, a few servants moved through the vineyards, collecting ripe grapes for winemaking. Margaery's eyes widened but she did nothing to betray what they were truly doing.
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He wanted to see if his wife would give the game away or not.
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