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 knew she was worried, but he did not want her to feel betrayed by his secret. He had honestly thought that it was not a great threat. He had presumed that the wall was enough in and of itself. Perhaps that was wrong.
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She stepped back and took his hand. Margaery didn't want to talk about such awful things anymore.
"Shall we plan our coronation, and how we plan on celebrating?" She offered the change in topic.
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"Yes, the first discussion should be if your gown I know you ordered will be ready by then." He said. He knew she had wanted that to be a secret from him, but he had heard the whispers. "As for celebrating...you did win our wager fairly." He said as his hands moved to tenderly run over her belly. "I suspect you should speak with the Maester. You have not had your bleeding for some time." He whispered into her ear. He did indeed pay attention to those things.
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She thought for a moment and formed a plan. "I did indeed win our wager. Fear not love, I will come to collect when it pleases me. I am indeed queen, aren't I?"
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Rhys laughed, "Papa play Mama, sissy nap." He said as he reached for Reina's hand and walked towards their old crib that was in the corner of the room. Reina giggled. "Shhhh, Mama play time."
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She glanced up when she heard Rhys speak. Margaery stared after them. They were walking so well now, it was difficult for her to not drop everything and praise them. Rhys and Reina crawled into their crib and Margaery glared at Hannibal playfully.
"You taught our son to be your wingman?" She accused.
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She leaned up and slipped her fingers under his doublet and felt over his chest. "Mmm...I look forward to our coronation, my love."
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"Don't stop!" She begged. "So close..." Her fluids were dripping along his shaft as he fucked her. So deep, hitting all of her most sensitive areas.
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Finally Margaery breathed, and kissed him deep, moaning his name over and over.
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