I

The Boy King

AU/ This is not going to follow the show/books, diverging roughly towards the end of season 2. Alternatively, Joffrey does not die of poison and lives on to wed Margaery. This fic mostly follows Margaery's life as Queen, living in King's landing, and her fun, dirty love triangle between Joffrey and Sansa. It occasionally will jump to Cersei's perspective. Rated M/E for graphic smut, underage sex, graphic depictions of violence, domestic violence, dom/sub, bondage, masochism, drug, and alcohol use

These past few days, life at the capital had been treating Margaery very well. The royal family was charming as ever, and she enjoyed the luxury of staying in The Red Keep, but it was much different here than her life at home in Highgarden. Not in particularly a bad way, just different.

To start, there was a night and day difference between the appearances of the two cities. Thinking back to her lush, flourishing home made her heartache, as she recalled the elegant floral designs on almost everything. Vines and roses crawled over the walls and laced up the pillars clinging to the gleaming stone. The city was like something out of a fairytale.

Giving an uncertain sigh she scanned the dark throne room she was in now. Light bled through the stained glass above the throne. The room had a beautiful view from the massive windows and was decorated with pretty, expensive things, however, the shadows seemed to be alive here. It retained an ominous feel, the towering pillars, successfully emphasizing the power of the jagged throne which loomed over the room.

The Iron Throne was still as breathtaking as it was the first time she saw it just a few days prior. It was massive, glimmering under the dusty rays of sunshine. It made her recall the exact feeling of her breath catching when she walked through the massive doors and stood before it, to discuss marriage with the king.

Her eyes swept over the endless display of sharp dark blades that made it look so menacing. She was glad it was frightening. Fear meant power, she caught herself fantasizing about how it might feel so sit on top of this intimating hunk of metal. She imagined the glory. It will be beautiful to be queen.

Margaery took a few steps closer to it, her heels clicking pleasantly on the black marble floor until she was close enough to touch it. She gazed at this damn chair in longing, debating internally with herself whether to reach out to it or not.

The other day her new betrothed sat lazily, slumped in this same spot, head resting in his palm, looking absurdly bored with everyone but her. He loved the power, but he didn't respect it.

"Margaery Tyrell," speak of the devil. The golden voice behind her was already so distinct and unforgettable. She had taken a liking to her new king quicker than she anticipated.

A smile tugged at the girl sweet, delicate lips, and she turned with care to greet his striking blue eyes.

"My king..." Margaery's voice was soothing, and graceful as she looked slightly up to meet his gaze, under her dark wisp of lashes.

She stared at him breathlessly, with a certain thirst.

His looks had an effortless way of charming her. He looked good. Really good. Margaery felt her stomach tighten at the thought of being his queen. Her assessing gaze swept over shoulders, broad but still boyish, and his hands, soft and clean, decked out with glittering diamond rings. She imagined them squeezing her hips, and thighs, and throat.

He was more than perfect, and she swore to herself she would be very good to him. She would not disappoint him nor give him any reasons to rid of her. She was willing to satisfy him any way he pleased, though she would not completely let him consume her. She must also remain smart and stable.

"Isn't it a work of art?" he was suddenly asking her, referring to his throne. His dreamy blue eyes looked past her briefly to admire it, then right into her eyes.

Her breath seized in her throat but she did not break their gaze let him see how he affected her.

She knew he was impressed with her fearless demeanor, she could see it in his eyes. She knew he was too cocky to admit this though.

Before she even had time to answer him, he was suddenly speaking again.

"You remind me of a goddess," said Joffrey hotly, his eyes flashing at her with questionable excitement and this time he heard her breath seize as his gorgeous eyes began to assess her voluptuous curves.

She felt like he was trying to scare her, with his bold words, and powerful gaze. However, her head remained high, her eyes just as powerful.

He assessed her waist, small and slender compared to her curvy hips and shapely ass. His blue eyes swept over her breasts, that were quite perky for their size—she had a tight corset on beneath her dress, of course. In other words, Margaery was blessed with a gorgeous face and the body of a sex goddess.

The dress she wore today wasn't as revealing as she would have liked it to be in this moment, as her beloved king overlooked her. She would have to wear something more risque next time.

"A goddess," she echoed, smiling coyly at him, though she felt her cheeks warmly pinken a bit. "Please. Your words are too kind, your grace."

He smiled smugly, seemingly impressed with the reaction he gained from her, then he was already onto the next thing.

"Come," Joffrey insisted, the smile never leaving his face, "I'd like to show you the garden."

He offered his arm for her to cling to, and when it snaked around her own, she felt her stomach tighten and tumble and flip again. She silently cursed herself and scrambled to collect herself, as she breathed in his intoxicating scent. He wore pungent, expensive-smelling cologne, that made Margaery feel like a lovesick preteen once again.

This was the closest she had ever been to the infamous king. She couldn't get over his angelic features, and the feeling of warm arm laced through hers.

She noticed how extravagant and fine the material he was wearing was. She knew the Lannisters were certainly richer than God, let alone her family, but she had no idea it was to this extent until she had stayed with them.

Of course, Joffrey had a ruffling effect on her, yet she remained collected again, showing him she wasn't a little girl like the rest he was probably used to. She had to be his goddess.

When they reached the garden it was more divine than Margaery had anticipated. She felt naturally comforted by the endless blessings of flowers, trees, and hedge work. She looked around in awe and let her arm unravel from Joffrey to lean into the bush closest to them to inhale the elegant scent of a red rose.

"This garden is more beautiful than the ones from home," she gazed into the flower before turning back to him.

"Of course it is," Joffrey said rather bluntly, "and this is your home now." his tone was oddly sharp. It seemed whatever she said had irritated him and she quickly realized she had to start thinking before opening her mouth childishly. He had a hot temper. She knew this. It was widely known throughout Westeros that the king was charmingly beautiful but quite irritable. She couldn't say stupid things. She was quickly learning though exactly what to do. She had briefly witnessed him being cruel to some servants and his mother, but she was going to make it her goal to stay on his good side no matter what. She knew just how.

"You are undoubtedly true, your grace. Words cannot even begin to describe how grateful I am for your decision to wed me. I absolutely love my new home," she smiled coolly, her eyes meeting his rather intimately, "here with you," her soft tone made him redden and shift uncomfortably on his feet.

Firstly, she felt madly accomplished that she could make the infamous King Joffrey blush. Second, she was relieved her words and gracious smile redeemed herself so quickly. She had to always remember to carry herself calm, collected, ladylike, and most importantly, cunning.

There was a great lion fountain and a marble bench they came across as they walked past a cluster of violets. She sat first, and as Joffrey took his spot she recognized the abundance of space between them. She could tell her flirtatious advancements were making him uncomfortable, but she knew it was because he had never encountered a girl like Margaery, an older girl, and probably didn't know how to react and what to say for the first time in his life. He was sexually inexperienced wasn't he? She knew he hated not being in control of things, yet she also believed her being in control of things may be just what he needs.

She looked up through the snarl of flowers and branches that hung over the two as a passing wind let every towering, lush tree in the garden sway and moan with the wind as a cloud began to cover the sun casting a dark shadow over the breathtaking courtyard.

"Come join me at supper this evening," Joffrey put in suddenly, his big blue eyes fixing on her's, causing her stomach to tighten once again. She was somewhat experienced with boys but her body had never been so responsive to anyone like it was with Joffrey. He did have a temper, that's certain, but if she could learn how to read him, how to react and respond she could have a perfect life. She would perfect exactly what face to make, what tone to use, when she could touch him and when it would unwise to. 'If you can learn how to work him, you can have a beautiful, luxurious life in the palace with him, and rule over the seven kingdoms together.' Her grandmother had advised. The alliance was very beneficial and it was fortunate the two seemed quite perfect together.

"I would be more than delighted to, your grace," she beamed at him her eyes always piercing his in a way no one else's could.

That evening, in her chambers, Margaery got ready to attend dinner.

She had been examining herself in a full-length mirror, wearing absolutely nothing. She was searching for something to make Joffrey drool over her. She chose a seductive black dress, which was tight, lowcut and hugging her hourglass figure. Even she was shocked by how sleek and sexy she looked in this garment. This dress was far more revealing than the dress she had worn this morning when speaking to Joffrey in the garden. She could hardly contain her excitement for the king to see her. She admired the way her perky breasts spilled from the deep v cut neckline and knew he would too. She left her hair down, pleased with way her golden chestnut waves flowed down her back, and she had done her makeup flawlessly.

At dinner, Margaery was impressed with the size of the table. At the head of the table was a great dining chair twice the size as the others, equipped with sharp metal branches, twisted and snarling over the king. His grace was lazily sprawled over it the chair, his fourth cup of wine spilling over the brim carelessly, as he told a foul joke to a lucky servant girl who, from what Margaery can tell from across the table was certainly shaken up, her weak smile and anxious, darting eyes giving it away. A blind man could see it, and Margaery knew Joffrey could tell by the intensity of his scornful laugh. When he laughed though, Margaery somehow found herself smiling as well, inadvertently at his dimples and sharp white teeth. She allowed herself to admire his high cheekbones and perfectly sharp nose. His gleaming crown sat crooked over his golden angelic head and to Margaery, it almost looked like a halo.

She must have stared for too long, in that his intense blue gaze, slowly but suddenly drew to hers, causing her breath to catch in her throat. If Margaery was younger she perhaps would have blushed or shyly averted her eyes, but she was of eighteen years and much smarter than that. Yet was still learning how to work the king, she had grasped the basics. He lived for reactions, and from now on, she knew that hers would matter especially.

With Joffrey, Margaery had concluded that it was best to only speak when she must and let her eyes do most of the talking. She had large, almond-shaped eyes, the most dazzling blue, and they were so intense, they seemed to have a personality of their own. When their eyes locked, Margaery's smile deepened coyly, and her eyes remained piercing and cat-like. They narrowed at him and from across the table, and Margaery was deeply rewarded when she could see him redden slightly under her hypnotizing gaze.

She felt beautiful and powerful. As if no one in the world could match the effect she had on the king. Although he appeared cruel and power-crazed, when it came down to it he was still a teenage boy, and Margaery was quite attractive. She knew right now, at 15, his hormones would play a huge role in how he acted. She could use this very much to her advantage.

"Margaery," the king sang joyfully. Her name sounded gorgeous on his tongue. "Did my joke humor you?" he continued pompously, without waiting for her to answer. When he addressed her, a few faces turned her way, the little girl in her wanted to wriggle beneath their gazes, she was skilled at keeping a calm composure. Among the semi-familiar faces, there was Cersei, the king's mother. Margaery caught her seemingly intrigued green eyes for a heartbeat before returning her eyes to the king.

"I didn't quite catch it, your grace," her tone was slow and very smooth. She let her eyes caress him as she thought for a second. "You simply caught me enjoying your divine smile...your grace," she had worded it correctly but unintentionally it carried a seductive undertone as it left her mouth.

"Well," Joffrey started, his tone excited. "You're so far away, my dear, take this spot beside me," Joffrey commanded slurring the slightest bit.

She stood without hesitation, and leaving her plate behind, she approached him her hips swaying gracefully. From the edge of her vision, she noticed Cersei's expression change as she stepped up from her chair, she had noticed the young girl's beautiful body in such a revealing outfit. Margaery wasn't quite sure what this expression was but it hinted...perhaps envy?

The king gawked at her figure, getting a good look at her dress for this first time this evening. She expected him to say something to her, but instead, he turned to slightly across the table, the first person to his left, a member of the small council.

"Get out of my sight," he hissed with a hint of humor in his drunken voice, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. The man obliged instantly, and let Margaery take the spot now only slightly across from her beloved king.

"My goddess," He addressed her hungrily, narrowing his eyes as she settled in her seat and suddenly, they were eye level, and intensely close. He smelled expensive and very royal, wearing that musky cologne again which actually drove her to the edge of her seat. His blue eyes seemed different now, they appeared ravenous and wild. She thought it may be entertaining to edge him on further.

"Your grace, you're driving me wild," Margaery gushed. She thought it might be entertaining to see how far she could actually get with this drunken boy-king. Instead of blushing, Joffrey smiled at her and leaned back in his chair lazily, the alcohol making his head swim. She gazed down the table to see his mother's eyes flash wildly at her. When their eyes locked, Cersei painted on one of the falsest smiles Margaery had ever seen. She looked back to her lover with a sigh. She was not going to be pushed around by the queen, that she vowed to herself.

The king seemed to think about something for a while. His chin in his palm, he leaned over the table looking into nothingness. Margaery remained quiet, taking frequent sips of wine, admiring the priceless gems on all the many gold rings he wore on his hand. Her own expensive jewelry jingled as she drew her cup to her dark cherry colored, heart-shaped lips. Joffrey's distant eyes wandered back, to lustfully watch his betrothed take a graceful sip of wine. He stared at her mouth.

"I need you to do something," he said slowly after some time, still fixed on her lips.

"And what would that be, your grace?" She purred, eyeing the younger boy under her long lashes. She leaned closer, more forward, so he could catch a delicious glimpse of her cleavage. "I'll do anything to please you." She dared to peek over at Cersei who was now reddening with anger. Margaery didn't care.

Joffrey seemed to forget what he was saying, whereas he couldn't tear his gaze from her large, perky breast for some time, his mouth slightly agape, his cheeks reddening more intensely she than she had seen all day. She knew he would prefer this dress. When his eyes slowly came to meet hers she could see he was impressed with her, and she silently praised herself.

"I know you will, sweet girl. That is why you're going to be my queen," he hissed, leaning in closer to her, the sweet, sharp scent of wine on his breath cutting through her nose.

"I wish I was already your queen," Margaery pouted to Joffrey and his eyes flashed with wild excitement.

"Worry not, my sweet Margaery," there was a sinister edge to his tone. He then leaned in closer, so she could feel his hot breath on her neck. "We'll be wed soon. Then you will be mine forever," he hissed under his breath, emphasizing every word. He edged closer, smelling strongly of wine, and his lips grazed her ear so slightly her stomach did another flip. "Then, I can do whatever I wish to you." He growled hotly in her ear inducing the spot between her thighs to ache. His dominance seemed like it should have frightened her but it was mostly just turning her on. She felt herself growing wet with lust for him. She wasn't going to be so quick to let him know, and although she blushed, she continued to sip her wine, trying to maintain her composure.

Her eyes caught sight of the queen once again and she was surprised to see her glaring back, angrily trying to contain herself. Margaery closed her eyes, breaking the contact to toss back the rest of her wine.

Margaery set her empty goblet down on the table and turned back to Joffrey, leaning in close to him. "What do you need of me, your grace?" she inquired, bringing him back to the initial question. "Anything you ask, your wish is my command."

Joffrey seemed more than pleased with her submissive obedience. "My wish is quite simple, my goddess," he downed the last of his wine. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve then leaned in close to her again, his lips stained red from the expensive alcohol. "Meet me outside my royal chambers tomorrow night after dinner," he instructed. As the hot quiet words left his lips, tickling her ear, Margaery's stomach again filled with butterflies, as if she was a little girl once more crushing on boys and kissing them for the first time. She wondered what they would do outside his chambers. The warmth between her thighs ached for him again, forcing her to cross her legs.

Margaery turned her head back to him, her eyes always watching. He was so intense to look at and talk to and be near. Their noses were almost touching, they were so close. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. His sneering blue eyes were hauntingly beautiful to gaze into, however, they made her feel small.

"I will be there, your grace," she said coolly, struggling to not appear so flustered. His eyes looked past her.

"What are you looking at!?" His violent, demanding voice caused her to jump away from him. She was beyond relieved to find that he was addressing a servant girl, pouring their wine, who apparently may have been paying too close attention to the two kids' conversation.

"I-I-" the frightened girl scrambled to come up with a response, but she was already out of time.

"I should have you beaten and whipped through the streets, you nosey whore," he interrupted, sneering wickedly, the sick smile only twisting across his face after seeing the fear in her eyes. Margaery watched and listened intently to see what would happen.

He turned completely around to glower at a guard standing at the far end of the wall.

"Get this swine out of my fucking castle," he spat to the guard, who moved rather quickly across the room. Cersei let out a quiet laugh.

Before the girl could react the guard seized her and in one motion he threw her small body over his padded shoulder. She protested loudly, wailing for mercy.

"Shut up!" Joffrey snarled, his voice cracking pubescently. "Just take her to a prison cell, for now, I'll decide what I want done with her later."

Margaery was only slightly shocked. She had known of his infamously cruel reputation for a long time before she was to wed him, so it was no surprise to her when he behaved like this. She didn't even feel terribly bothered by it, for some reason. She knew if she was to be Joffrey's wife, she would have to adapt to his ways. She simply smiled pitifully at the foolish girl being carried out, then cast Cersei a satisfied smirk, to see the queen was chuckling under her breath, eyes pinned on her son. She hadn't noticed Margaery's attention.

Taking advantage of this, she looks back to Joffrey, who was still bristling. Before she could even open her mouth to say something to perhaps comfort him, Tyrion from the other side of the table piped up.

"Don't you think that decision was a bit hasty, my belligerent nephew?" his tone was slightly mocking and he groaned the last part, which only irritated the king further.

"You dare address your king like that?" Joffrey barked over the table, bristling with rage and abruptly slamming his fists down, knocking over several goblets full of wine. "You hideous little defect."

"Funny you say that," Tyrion said sharply, a touch of humor in his voice as Joffrey took a giant gulp of his drink, "you seem to be the defective one."

"Shut up!" Joffrey spat, so angry his face had gone red, his lips were stained with dark red wine, reminding Margaery of blood. "Your dishonor to your king disgusts me!" his voice came out with a boyish crack.

Tyrion only raised his eyebrows, provoking his wrath further. Everyone at the table seemed to shift in their seats uncomfortably, including Margaery.

"Mother!" Joffrey cried, piss drunk and livid, yet sounding quite juvenile for his age. He shot the beautiful queen a pleading look. "He cannot get away with this!"

"You foolish little imp," Cersei's tone was sharp and icy as she glared at her little brother, her eyes burning with hatred. "If you ever speak to the king that way again-"

"I shall have you publicly castrated then lynched!" Joffrey's voice cut in sharp, harsh and bloodthirsty as is echoed through the dining hall. "Now get out of my sight! Out! Out! OUT!"

Margaery decided Tyrion was foolish to provoke the king like that, given his temper, intoxication, and current mood. She watched disapprovingly as the little man scurried out of the room without a word, and Margaery didn't feel bad for him. How dare he talk to the king like that?

"Cersei," Lord Tywin hissed under his breath, glaring at his daughter as if she had any say in her son's unpredictable behavior.

Margaery watched intently as the queen nodded to Lord Tywin then stood to address her boy. "It's getting a bit late. Don't you think, Joff?" she said in her sweetest motherly tone. "Perhaps now is a good time for bed?"

Why did she think that would ever work? Margaery smiled to herself as the scowling king cast a tormenting look to his mother.

"No! I'm not a baby," he insisted coldly, his tone mutilating her gentle words.

"I wasn't implying that, my love. Though it's apparent you've had a bit too much to drink this evening," Cersei tried to reason with him but it backfired.

"A king may drink however much he pleases!" Joffrey boomed over the dining hall, unnecessarily loud, and causing Cersei to quake under his rage as he tossed back every last drop of the precious spiced liquid in his cup. His hateful eyes then landed on a pretty little servant girl who seemed to be watching in fear this whole time. "Whore! Bring me more wine!"

Lord Tywin let out a sigh. "Please excuse me, your grace," he grumbled under his breath, clearly he had enough of the current situation. He stood from his half-empty plate and began to exit the room.

The king only half smirked, very satisfied with himself, as the trembling handmaid rushed over to pour a generous amount of dark wine into his chalice. However, Cersei objected hastily.

"Father," she half-heartedly protested, but he only continued on his way.

"I have a headache," he grumbled before disappearing through the door.

Cersei sighed in defeat watching her son down his sixth cup of wine.