Story takes place at the beginning of Storm of Swords, before Sansa marries Tyrion, but after she starts spending time with the Tyrells. There is a small quote from the series, you will easily recognize it. Hope you enjoy it!
Sansa Stark wasn't happy.
No. Happiness was for Winterfell, for Lady being alive and beside her, gently licking her on her heel, for her brothers and sister alive and smiling around a fireplace while her mother and father were holding hands on the background. Happiness was for everything she had left behind and she couldn't even imagine feeling it again.
Sansa Stark was grateful.
She could easily divide her stay in King's Landing into before and after Margaery Tyrell entered her life. After her betrothal with Joffrey had been put aside in favor of Margaery being the future queen, her usefulness had expired. But since she was a hostage of great importance, they could not simply keep her locked in her room or wandering around the Red Keep unattended. So it was only logical to throw her away to entertain the new noble young woman who arrived with her whole family in the castle.
If she was to remain a prison at King's Landing, Sansa definitely preferred to be in the company of the Queen of Thorns and her acidic tongue, Elinor, Megga and Alla and their empty heads and their various singers who brought songs that she had never heard before.
But none of them was more pleasant to be with than Margaery Tyrell.
Sansa didn't quite understand why they got along so well, but Margaery Tyrell countless times was the reason why Sansa got up out of bed with a minimum of disposition. If there was any beauty in this world, it had been embodied in the young Tyrell.
At first she thought of Margaery as the sister she always prayed for, but it was foolish to think so. Margaery was not her sister. She didn't treat her like his sister. She couldn't imagine her lady mother Catelyn and Margaery together, no. Nor was Margaery just her friend, her company, her distraction as the war marched across the Seven Kingdoms.
When they met, Sansa's legs were shaking under her dress, fearing for a new Cersei. Fearing that Tyrell would hate her. Margaery sagaciously never seemed to imagine that Sansa resented the breakup of her old betrothal. She welcomed Sansa with an open smile, intelligent eyes and graceful hands like the roses in her sigil. Simple and charismatic, she dragged Sansa everywhere she went, offering the protection of her company without expressly asking for anything in return. Besides Margaery, the other people at court did not look down at Sansa or her slightly ragged appearance. Nor were the knights allowed to beat her whenever Robb won in battle, because Joffrey was still pretending to be the perfect gentleman who did not hurt his future wife, then he, nor anyone else could touch Sansa.
Sansa imagined that if she had met Margaery before, before everything, she would have loved her even more voraciously. Her laugh was exuberant and made everyone around her accompany her even without understanding the joke. Sansa always wanted to have a bit of Margaery's charisma, she was perfect effortless. She would've been her inspiration, the perfect model to follow, rather than her anchor in a cruel world. The Sansa Stark who still had a father and her wolf would'be loved her more easily and more ardently.
Sansa wished she could express this feeling to Margaery in words, to thank her for everything, but the walls of King's Landing had more than ears, they had feet, hands and nails that tore off her skin, and their gardens hid the most poisonous vipers. She couldn't be seen being so grateful to the Tyrell girl like that, or they would question her loyalty. It was so cruel to have her freedom of speech mowed down. Courtesy used not to be her lady's weapon as the Queen always said, it was simply how she lived. She wanted to leave the world as beautiful as the songs, with compliments, smiles and sweet words, why they had to distort even that?
The afternoons in the company of Margaery were pleasant and serene and Sansa enjoyed the calm more than ever. Margaery liked to explore the Red Fortress and make herself known, each day she chose a different place to gather to the sound of singers and the smell of good food. This time, they were in the gardens, in a improvised but dashing tent, with all the splendor that always accompanied the Tyrells. Food was being brought in all the time, but they barely ate. Margaery and Elinor helped themselves to wine rather than food, but Sansa avoided drinking as much as she could. A singer strummed Megga Tyrell's favorite rhythm on a delicate harp, and she was the only one to pay attention.
They talked and talked and talked all day, until Sansa's buttocks hurt from sitting so long and the muscles in her face hurt from laughing. That was how the South should be. She always thought that when it was time to leave, it was the time for the rest of the Red Keep to suffocate her to the point where the hours passed without being noticed, without being felt.
She stood up, adjusting the skirts of her dress so that it didn't look so much that it was too small for her developing body. And she would be on her way to her quarters if she wasn't interrupted by Margaery.
"Sansa, dear, would you like to join me tonight?" For a few moments she didn't quite understand the question, was Margaery asking her to talk somewhere else, even after they had spent the whole afternoon in each other's company? However, she remembered that Cousins Tyrell were extremely close, and often Elinor, megga or Alla would share the bed of their most important cousin. Sansa knew well that it was a Southern custom to ensure that maidens never slept alone to protect their virtues. It was not a custom in the North, where she had a room for herself and it made her miss Jeyne Poole, her own companion who had mysteriously disappeared.
But Sansa didn't know exactly how to respond. She did not want to risk leaving Margaery dissatisfied with her, losing her favor would be devastating, but she feared that it would reach Queen Cersei's ears that Sansa had not spent the night in her rooms and that was perhaps even more devastating.
"Margaery, I thought it was my turn today..." pleaded Alla.
"Quiet, Alla. Poor Sansa must feel so lonely at night and you will always have our dear cousins." Margaery replied, assertively. And Alla withdrew and did not dare to reply.
Sansa did not interrupt her to correct that she enjoyed the solitude of her rooms more than many things in the Fortress. Against her pillow, without her spying maids, it was when she could cry for her father, for Lady and wish Robb the bravery of the Warrior to win his battles in order to rescue her.
"Come, my dear." Margaery asked again, her eyes twinkling in Sansa's direction. It was impossible to deny her anything.
"Lady Margaery… If Queen Cersei finds out ..." She murmured.
"No need to worry about it, I will write to the Queen by my own hand that you will be safe and sound with me." Sansa could only trust Tyrell's influence to be enough to keep Cersei's anger and distrust appeased.
"If that pleases you, Lady Margaery."
"It will be my greatest pleasure, my dear rose." She spoke, intertwining her arm with Sansa's and bringing her close, very close. They always walked like this when they were together, arm in arm like confidants. Sansa was a few inches taller than Margaery, she knew she was tall for a maiden, but she imagined that they made a beautiful sight together. It was enough for Sansa to smile again. And perhaps her smile would one day be as open again as what Margaery sketched in her direction.
They retired early. Margaery was kind enough to order not only her maids to prepare a bath for Sansa, but also to lend her smallclothes to sleep, made of rich linen that fit her better than many of her dresses. And then the two of them were lying on the bed, facing each other, alone in the room, the blanket covering their heads and hiding them from the world. Sansa wasn't sure if this was Margaery's routine with her cousins, it certainly wasn't how she slept with Jeyne or even Arya. She knew that this was the moment they exchanged stories and stories, it would be perhaps the only moment they would have.
"Do you think I will like Willas? And that he will like me?" She asked softly, voice nothing above a whisper. Since Olenna Tyrell had told her about her plan to marry Sansa to her grandson, there was little to replace him in Sansa's mind, except, of course, Margaery. She whispered his name on the pillow trying to make herself in love with him, still without effect. She was not infatuated with the Tyrell heir, but with the security that the proposal brought her.
The Tyrells have allied themselves with the Lannisters in the war, but she knew that if Robb arrived at their doors a winner, Highgarden would easily open up to a new king and a new opportunity. King Robert forgave them without further questions after they sided with the Targaryens, surely she would be delivered safe to her brother. She could even save Margaery and Willas by arguing that they treated her with courtesy and kindness and that Margaery was her true friend in King's Landing. Robb would be happy to see her happy.
Margaery was so close that Sansa could see the small crease that formed between her eyebrows and almost feared that she had asked something wrong and she would be indisposed, but the girl smiled softly, full of knowledge.
"I think it's important for you to know what you like first, my dear rose." Started. Sansa didn't understand why she was saying that. Obviously what was in Sansa's taste didn't matter, it never would. It ceased to matter when Ilyn Payne cut off her father's head on the staircases of the Sept of Baelor along with all her dreams.
"This is something that is rarely expressed in the songs, women are extremely complex, as much as men. Some women like tall men. Some like short men. Some like hairy men. Some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men..." Her velvety voice was getting lower and lower and Sansa had to move a little closer to better hear her. "Pretty girls..."
She put her thumb on Sansa's full lips, gently opening her mouth. Her heart stopped and then accelerated voraciously. She didn't understand what was going on, not very well. She could feel her face on fire, but perhaps in the dim lighting of the room, Margaery would not be able to see her blush.
Margaery moved shy inches. No, not shy, Margaery was anything but shy, she always acted like someone who knew exactly what to do. Seeing her in her nature was perhaps more attractive than her flushed skin, Sansa would assume. She didn't realize she had moved, too, the heat from Tyrell's body reaching her even though they hadn't touched yet.
"Do you want to play a kissing game, Sansa?" She asked in a whisper that Sansa could feel the corner of her lip, brushing her chin. Someone had already stolen a kiss from Sansa before, the Hound after the battle of the blackwater with his hard lips and burning odor, demanding a song in return, but it would be the first time she would be giving it away freely.
It was difficult to see Margaery's eyes due to the lack of light, it was difficult to see little more than her fair skin and her hands running over Sansa's face, but if she closed her eyes she could imagine them perfectly. Her light brown eyes sparkling and full of insight, which would look at her with the adoration she knew reflected in her own clear blue eyes. And with that image, Sansa closed her eyes and felt Margaery's lips touch hers.
Her lips tasted like the Arbor wine she was drinking and it would be the first time that Sansa would be tasting it, it seems fitting that would be from such a perfect cup, and it was as soft as a summer breeze.
Margaery moved her lips promptly against hers and there was nothing to do but follow her silent commands, Tyrell's delicate hand still wrapped around her jaw, caressed her chin and cheekbones and then wrapped around her red hair, bringing Sansa even closer.
She felt goosebumps rise in her arms and only the warmth of Margaery's body could soothe them when she decided to bring her hands to touch the other girls. Margaery was older by a few years than Sansa, she knew that, with a fully developed body, but she was still so soft under her fingers. Sansa shyly explored her arms, her angular neck, her messy curls after being kneaded on the bed, until she reached her face, repeating the movements Margaery did on her own face.
Margaery sighed in something that felt like pleasure against her lips and Sansa blushed more. If it was just a game, should they be enjoying it so much?
She let her own sound of pleasure escape her throat when Margaery's hands left her face to go down the back of her neck, no longer with soft touches, but using nails on her skin.
She felt Margaery's smile and that seemed to make her more confident, because Sansa felt that Margaery moved, changing their positions. Sansa was now lying on her back and the other girl was slowly climbing on top of her, full bodily. Sansa could feel her entire body against hers, all her curves pressed against hers. Her dexterous fingers went to the laces of Sansa's undergarments, loosening the already loose knots she had tied up before sleeping, leaving her pale breasts exposed and free for Margaery's hands to caress, and her lips to follow them after.
"Margaery ... what are you doing?" She managed to ask, amid small moans that only increased in volume as Margaery's lips became more voracious on her breasts, plunging into the gap between them.
"Kissing you, loving you, my lovely Sansa." Margaery murmured still against her chest. She joined them by the hands later, guiding Sansa's hands to her own body under her clothes in a way that Sansa wouldn't be brave enough to do. Margaery made her touch her thighs, which shivered wherever her hands went, then her soft belly until it reached her small breasts, smaller than Sansa's, but just as sensitive. Sansa watched Tyrell's face instead of her body, and what a joy it was, because Margaery was so delighted that it was contagious. Her eyes closed and she bit her lips when Sansa took control of her hands but did not remove them from her breasts. "So lovely…"
"I am so sorry for you, Sansa. I regret so much that you will never enjoy life and feel the pleasure of sleeping with someone you love. My poor, lost Sansa…" She spoke, lifting her gaze to face Sansa, her words soothing Sansa's soul, as well as the gentle way in which Margaery caressed her face again. "You will love my brother, Sansa, just as you love me. You love me, don't you?"
"Margaery..."
"Perhaps words could not express what we feel correctly. Just tell me if you like it." Sansa thought that Margaery would put her hands on her breasts again and prepared herself happily for the delicious sensation, however, the other girl's fingers went down and down and down...
When the ecstasy went away, Sansa Stark was still not happy, but in Margaery's delicate arms, with the smell of flowers from her hair, her skin, she could almost feel like she was.