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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At the last part of her statement he gave her a smirk as he leaned in to speak lowly into her ear. "It would take us a month to christen every room. I suspect you will miss a bleeding before then." He said.
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She titled a brow when he mentioned their visitors. No one had visited in Winterfell, so Margaery was curious who it could be. "Oh? What makes you think I have any sway over such a lady? Who might it be?"
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He had intentions of using his wife to sway the young Stark into being allies.
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"Sansa? Sansa Stark?" Her voice was hushed to keep from drawing unwanted attention. "Coming to the Dreadfort?"
To take back Winterfell? Oh...Margaery was now terribly embarrassed that she'd made love with her husband on Sansa's father's bed. The thought of that made her sit back and blush.
"Is she well? What have you heard? Keeping secrets from me, how cruel!" She smiled up at Hannibal. "Tell me."
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Hannibal chuckled at her quick response. He nodded to his captain who took the reigns of his horse. Hannibal smoothly slid to the side of the carriage and slipped within it without pulling to a stop. He shut the window as he looked at her with a smile. "She is as well as she can be. Littlefinger smuggled her out of King's Landing. He had two different plans concerning her. One was to marry her off to my brother. The other was to marry her himself and to use her as his way onto the iron throne. Neither is a good option for Sansa. Do you believe she has any desire to live anywhere other than Winterfell on her own terms?" He asked his wife.
He had kept it a secret until he felt she was absolutely trustworthy.
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Hannibal seemed to be the best of both.
Margaery leaned into him as he sat beside her. The mention of Littlefinger made her tense though, and she looked to Hannibal with worry in her eyes. She shook her head in answer.
"No. Starks belong in Winterfell." Not Boltons. Not Tyrells and certainly not Lannisters.
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The Sansa that Margaery knew was meek and quiet. Margaery knew not of any army that Sansa had amassed on the name of her reclaiming her ancestral home.
"Who will she be traveling with? Littlefinger? Don't tell me that you intend to let him into our home?" Margaery didn't like sneakier lord. She had always been suspicious of Littlefinger.
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He smiled as he kissed her temple. "I want to assess how lean he is once again. One of these days you and I will go on a little hunt for Littlefinger. I will let you decide which pieces I cook up for you." He said lowly.
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If she was anything like Margaery thought, Sansa would have family pride first. She would not bow to the Boltons.
But at the mention of what he planned on doing with Littlefinger, Margaery smiled and brought a hand up to tilt his chin towards her and kissed him softly. "I would greatly look forward to such a hunt, my love."
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Margaery squeezed his arm as she pressed into him. "She would want to lead, she would want to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Not that she didn't deserve it...
...but Margaery wanted that crown.
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His face turned more somber after a moment. "I promise you that if she becomes a liability Inwill ensure that your crown is safe my love."
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Margaery leaned into him and kissed him softly, but full of passion and desire. "I love you."
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She leaned down and kissed him softly, lips parting over his lower lip and suckling softly.
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Smirking, she reached up and undid the ties of her corset to free her breasts for him to lick and tease as he liked. "You're insatiable," she laughed as she began to bounce up and down atop him.
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