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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She smirked as he moved down to her and instead. "For sporting sake, I'll agree to seeing the garment you have in mind, then I'll decide whether or not I'll wear it."
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She kissed him back and moaned against his lips. Her body pressed up into his and her legs wrapped around his waist.
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***
The next day went smoothly and justice was met out. Hannibal did send out a decree that any boy or man who volunteered to join the men's watch would earn a pension for their families for their sacrifice. Hannibal wanted to rebuild the nights watch with men and boys who were not just criminals and old men. He wanted quality men there. The pension was not much, but it was large enough to help quite a few of the poor family's to at least have enough to buy food every day.
He hoped that this would bring down the crime rates in the future.
Everything was progressing as Hannibal had planned. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the final stage of torture for Cersei and Jaime. He wondered if they still had their tongues, if they could speak at all.
He escorted his wife to their chambers after their children were put to bed. There was a box upon the bed with the outfit he had promised her inside of it. He shut the door and rested his hand on the timer lever. "Turn this after you have determined if you will wear the outfit I made for you or not. Putting the outfit on should be included in the time of you so choose." He said before turning to sit down in a chair with his back facing her so that she would not think it cheating for him to watch her change.
The outfit was artfully crafted strips of leather. They would fit her form loosely, it would seem. The leather would feel quite soft indeed. There were special seams hidden expertly within the leather that held small, smooth rocks. These were placed strategically within the leather. What Hannibal had no intention of telling Margaery, was that the leather had been overstretched and cooled. Once it was warmed by her body it would shrink to be quite snug. Those rocks would be pressing along her slit and especially on her clit. There were also small rocks on sensitive pleasure points along her body. It would take at least 10-15 minutes for the leather to shrink. She likely wouldn't notice immediately.
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She followed him to their chambers and examined the outfit he'd selected for her. Margaery knew Hannibal was up to something. But she was a good sport, she would wear it. She put it on, marveling at the softness of the leather. Of course she started the timer as he'd required. Then when she was ready, she stepped in front of him, turning to let him see.
"How like you this, lover?" She looked to him. "Does it suit me?"
She smiled. "Now, remember the rules of our game. No touching, just words, just actions without contact."
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He slowly stood to loom over her and stood plenty close enough for her to feel his body heat, but he did not touch. "I do not forget such things." He rumbled lowly.
He took a few steps back from her and slowly began to remove his clothing down to just his leather pants. He was wearing just a simple piece of cloth to keep himself protected, one that could be removed with a tug if he so desired. He looked at her with dark desire before he brought out three practice dummies. He began to practice his hand to hand combat and was certain to dismember each dummy one by one. There was wine within them to act as blood, but it was clearly thinner than blood.
He intended to exercise and show off his strength to her. In the middle of his routine, he picked up a peach. He tenderly prodded at the weak point to slip two fingers into the heart of the fruit to dig out the pit and toss it aside. He then ate the sweet fruit slowly. He held up a banana towards Margaery. "Would you like a taste?" He asked with a playful light in his eyes.
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But she wanted to win.
She watched him as he sparred with his practice dummies and her body grew warm. She moaned softly and watched as he ate so erotica lay from the fruit. Margaery snubbed the banana and rang a small bell. A servant came and brought a small bowl of fire plums, then quickly left. Margaery ran her tongue over the plum's skin and smirked up to Hannibal before taking a bite.
"I prefer my fire plums," she replied.
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He smirked and watched as she ate her fire plums. He raised an eyebrow slowly at that. "The last time you desired these, you were with child." He pointed out.
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"Was I? Or was it just before you planted our twins within me?" She teased, leaning back and appreciating the muscular form of his body. "You should keep fighting for me, I enjoy it."
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