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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Hannibal turned to his wife, "Now, most people will close their eyes tightly to try and save their eyes. Fortunately, the eyelid is very easy to hold back. Now, the eye is similar to a tomato, a spoon is far better to fish it out." He opened the whore's left eye and set the small metal spoon so that is was against the corner of her eye next to her nose. "Now, push in with a nice, steady pressure and then carefully slide the spoon around the entire eye. You might have to push in a bit more around the back the eye once you have made your circle and it should pop right out." He said before doing what he said slowly.
The whore's left eye did indeed pop out perfectly. Hannibal then handed the spoon to his wife for her to take the right eye. His brother's comment was made as a distraction so that they would focus on him and not torturing his little whore first.
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"You will pay for that..." he growled.
Margaery ignored him and took the spoon from Hannibal. She pressed it to Myranda's remaining eye and plucked it out as Hannibal had done. "Like that?" She looked to Hannibal for approval.
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Hannibal turned to look at his brother with a tilt of his head. "I thought you did not care about this whore. Have I wounded you already brother?" He asked as a servant took the spoon and handed Hannibal a slim bladed knife. "Tell me brother, what parts of this whore did you enjoy so much? I see nothing extravagant upon her plain body." He said. He moved the flat of the blade across her collarbone slowly before tapping at one of her breasts. "Was it her breasts? They seem a bit small to me...however, I suppose they are enough to cover your cock...perhaps a bit big for that in fact." He taunted.
Hannibal's blade moved down to tap over her stomach slowly and down to her pussy. "Perhaps you enjoyed this brother..." He said. He would watch for Ramsay to squirm. Whatever he squirmed about more was what Hannibal would remove.
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"It matters not to me. Kill her, I'll find another," He inclined his head towards Margaery. "You ought to tend your wife, brother. She's the one who seems uncomfortable with your knife's location."
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He slid the blade around her left breast and began to slowly flay both of her breasts. He tossed the skin to the side and had his guards drag her closer to Ramsay. "Perhaps this meat will be sweet enough for you to enjoy Brother." He said before slicing off some of the now exposed meat and forcing Ramsay to eat it.
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Ramsay tried to shake his head and stop his brother from forcing the meat down his throat, but he had no choice. And when he swallowed the meat, he nearly gagged. But he swallowed all the same and looked to the simmering Myranda.
"Just kill her and be done with it. Why drag out this dull affair?" Ramsay snappped. Still trying to relieve her suffering.
"You dare give commands to the Lord of the castle, bastard?" Margaery herself snapped. "Your kinslaying made Hannibal the new Lord Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell. You will speak with respect."
Ramsay glared at her before spitting on the ground and smirking to Hannibal.
"Very well, Lord Bolton, will you do your humble prisoner a favor and silence your mewling bitch by shoving your cock in her mouth?" He sneered.
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He went back to the whore as he allowed the tip of his blade to leave shallow cuts along her body. "Tell me whore...what did you enjoy most about my brother? Was it is tongue? Or his cock?" He asked before slowly sinking his blade into the exposed meat on her chest. "Answer truthfully now." He knew it was his brother's cock, he wanted her to say it.
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"Don't be so sure," Margaery took a long, curved knife and stepped up to Ramsay. The tip of the blade pressed to his exposed throat. "You took a Tyrell son. My father may not give the order, but Willas? Willas will ignore the pain of his crippled leg and ride again, dragging your useless hide on a ceaseless tour of the Seven Kingdoms. Then he'll behead you himself and hang your head over the entrance to Highgarden."
She left a long, shallow cut from his jaw to his cheek. "House Tyrell is patient, but when crossed our anger is terrible. We do not take kindly to those who mistreat our clan's children."
Myranda cried out as Hannibal pierced her exposed breasts. She squirmed in vain to get away, to no avail. "Y...yes, his cock! His cock and his twisted mind!"
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Hannibal had his men shift the whore closer to his brother as he guided his wife back a few steps. He sliced open his brother's small clothes and moved to place the whore's hand on his brother's cock. "Show me how much you love his cock." He ordered.
When she didn't move her hand over his length, Hannibal gave a shallow cut across her back and rubbed salt into the wound. "Show me." He said again. He wanted her to force his brother to get hard.
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"Are you certain you're related by blood, darling? He's so much smaller than you," Margaery chuckled as she leaned into Hannibal and tugged playfully at the buttons and clasps of his doublet.
Ramsay's body stiffened. He knew what his brother was planning. Ramsay focused on things that didn't arouse him. But to no avail, Myranda moved her fingers and whimpered in pain and fear.
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Once the whore had him nice and aroused, Hannibal nodded to the servant. He moved in quickly and cut off Ramsay's cock and balls. The hot blade prevented him from bleeding out. Hannibal pulled the whore's head back roughly. "You did so well whore. You deserve a last meal as well." He nodded to the servant who forced the cock down her throat and pinched her nose closed. If she wanted to breathe she would have to chew and swallow. Hannibal turned to watch his brother, he wanted to see what loosing his cock and watching his whore consume it would do to that twisted mind.
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Myranda nearly choked on the cock that was shoved down her throat. Reluctantly she chewed, much to Ramsay's dismay. He looked away and refused to watch.
Margaery took her knife and slowly approached the girl from behind. She dragged the blade along the whore's jaw and peeled away chunks of her flesh. Then she stepped up and stood before Ramsay. "You liked her face so much, dear brother, I thought you'd like to partake of it."
Margaery shoved the pieces she cut from the whore's face down Ramsay's throat.
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His guards pulled the girl into a standing position and stretched her right arm out taught. "Now, we don't want to cut into the muscle when we slice the skin. Make a shallow cut around her wrist and her shoulder. Then make a similar slice down the length of her arm. After that we can peel it off nice and slow." He said as he led Margaery to the whore's extended arm.
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Margaery smiled when he offered to teach her how to properly flay the whore. She brought up the knife as he outstretched her arm. She carefully ran her knife around the whore's wrist and then around her shoulder.
She looked up to Hannibal as a student looks to a teacher. "Will you show me how to pull properly?"
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The screams would be beautiful, and he was enjoying how his brother seemed truly distressed enough to not speak right now.
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Ramsay watched in horror. He knew he couldn't get loose, and all he could do was watch as they flayed Myranda.
"What next, my love?" Margaery pressed her body back against Hannibal, murmuring the question softly, hoping that age want alone in her arousal.
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He looked to his wife. "That depends. We could take off some more of her skin. We could remove a finger or toe. Or...we could slice her open so that she can see all of her squishy insides. Maybe I can bring my wolves in. They would enjoy the tender meal." He said. If the right cut was made, the guts would spill out, but the contents would remain where they were. Hannibal was curious what his brother would think of his whore dying at the teeth of his dire wolves.
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She looked to the seething Ramsay and looked up to Hannibal. She leaned up to whistle in his ear. "Will you flay some part of his for me? I want to see how else you'll torture him."
Margaery made sure to grind her hips into his and kissed over his neck.
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He turned to his captain. "Are any of his hounds still breathing? Bring a few of them in here." He said before signaling a servant to gag his brother so that he could not whistle. Hannibal then pulled the whore's jaw down until it popped and hung loose from being dislocated. He bent down and sliced her Achilles' tendons so that she could not run and fewer of his guards were needed to restrain her. He then cut across her lower belly just deep enough to allow her intestines to spill out intact.
The hounds came in growling and strain in at their collars. His men dropped the whore and took a few steps back. The hounds moved in and started with her already opened belly. It took a good twenty minutes before she finally died. "Take them back to their kennel with their kill." He said.
The room cleared until it was down to his captain, Hannibal, Margaery, and his brother Ramsay. Once they were alone, Hannibal removed the gag as he considered his wife's request. "Did you enjoy my first little game brother? I hope you did. My second game will last far longer than the first." He said.
He had made a decision on what he would remove first. His captain put a blade in the fire as Hannibal untied Ramsay's right arm. The captain stood across from Hannibal to hold the chair steady. Hannibal stretched Ramsay's arm taught. "I would rather you don't scream like a small girl brother." He said before pulling hard enough to fully dislocate the arm. Ramsay's arm hung loosely after being completely separated. Hannibal collected the hot knife to fully cut the limb off and prevent his brother from dying from blood loss.
He turned to his wife with the dismembered arm. "Is this what you had in mind dear? Or something smaller?" He asked. Ramsay was becoming less of a threat with each passing hour. Hannibal would at the very least remove his other hand before calling it an evening. Then his brother would truly no longer be a threat to him.
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Once the whore and hounds were cleared away, Margaery released Hannibal and let him move freely. She finished her wine as she watched him move to his brother.
Ramsay glared and bared his teeth. He didn't scream from having his arm pulled out. He had just had his balls cut off. This pain wasn't much. When his arm was cut off he set his jaw against the pain and glared up at Hannibal. He spat in his brother's face.
Margaery didn't take kindly to that. She brought her cup forward and regarded Ramsay. "I was thinking something else."
She tilted a brow as she used the knife to turn Ramsay's head. "I remember the tales of old. Before the Seven Kingdoms were United and the Bolton Red Kings waged war on the Stark Kings. Gruesome men indeed."
Margaery delicately pushed the tip of the knife into a section of Ramsay's throat and made his blood run freely down his neck. Only then did she get carried away and put her cup to the cut to catch his blood. "The stories said they would drink the blood of enemies - some of their Queens bathed in it, even....can you imagine?"
"You forget, woman, I am Bolton by blood," Ramsay hissed. "You are Bolton by name. That is my legacy of which you speak."
"Was. It was your legacy. But you disgraced it," Margaery snapped, swirling the blood in her cup.
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He reached for the cup, but would only take it if she handed it to him. He did tilt his head to her in curiosity. "You are requesting his blood? He does not have quite enough to bathe in, but perhaps enough to wash your hands." He said.
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Ramsay just breathed heavily and eyed the pair. "You couldn't handle my blood, brother. It's far too strong for you."
Margaery glared at Ramsay. "More likely he's contracted some sort of disease from his whore that you might contract from drinking his blood, my lover." Her hand rested over Hannibal's shoulder and again she pressed close to him.
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He thought for a moment before looking into her eyes. "He is a bastard. His blood was tainted from birth. He was easily beaten and does not deserve such a place of honor as having any part consumed by us." He said before pouring the blood out upon the floor.
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"What do we do with him?" Margaery sighed, placing a kiss on Hannibal's shoulder. "Look at him. He's so pathetic and weak..."
Ramsay lunged as much as he could, but didn't get far. Margaery held up the knife again and tilted a brow. "Oh, we didn't like that, did we?" She smirked. "He still thinks he's a fighter, love."
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