IV
Diamonds and Pretty Things
It was nearly midnight, when Cersei ambled her way down the seemingly endless halls, her wine in hand. At this point, her head was starting to swim with intoxication, the rich liquid had finally made it's way to her brain.
It takes longer to truly reach me these days, she thought, taking another sip as she followed the corridor, her long red skirts trailing behind her.
These long days and long nights, she felt like sobbing, as she passed under the soft crackling flames of the torches, her dark wine swirling in her cup.
There was twilight leaking through the window she passed, the moon was a soothing peaceful sight over the city, but her heart was on edge. She wouldn't admit it, but through a drunken haze, she felt lonely.
Long after dinner had ended, Cersei remained seated with Jaime, at the dinner table, their conversation had gradually turned into a wasted debate, and he stormed off because of something she had said.
If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she hardly remembered what she had said, and what they had even argued of for that matter. For they had both already had far too much wine.
Jaime, my poor Jaime, come back to me, she hummed to herself faintly, listening to the staggered clicks of her heels on the marble.
She prayed she would run into him, and suddenly everything would be alright as he would wrap her in his forceful, big arms, kissing her and whispering sweet things.
The hallways were seemingly swaying and were all too warm for her and her hand grazed the wall as she walked, helping to correct her balance.
Where is my love? My poor, sweet Jaime...
Just as she turned a corner, something brilliant happened. A blur of blonde hair under a glittering crown. Jaime? No, even better. It was her blessed, little cub who appeared at the end of the hall, with his betrothed.
Joffrey, my love, her heart leaped with joy and she started towards him. It was so good to see him after such a foul encounter with her brother. Joff was such a refreshing sight. He was a breath of fresh air, an ice cold cup of water on a hot summer's day. Her little cub. Margaery even too, the little flower, was pleasant to come across in these endless, condemning halls.
Her delicate purple dress reminded Cersei of a violet, but her hair was a violent mess.
Joffrey and Margaery both looked alarmed for a split second when they caught sight of Cersei, but as she neared, they smiled.
"Mother," Joffrey, greeted her casually, smiling her favorite smile. She noticed how red his cheeks were. Perhaps, the hallways were too warm for him as well.
"Joff," Cersei cried, the wine was making her delightful. "My dearest love," she threw her arms around him, pulling into the sweetest hug. He allowed her to squeeze and love him.
The feeling of his small framed, wrapped snuggly against her reminded her of when he was just a little boy he would come running into her embrace at any time. Oh, how she missed his innocent child's affection. How the times have changed. It was so different now. They had always been so close, and she liked to believe they still were. She felt the urge to sob suddenly but she blinked it away as he drifted from her.
"What's the matter, mother?" he could obviously see something was bothering her, but she paid no mind.
"Nothing at all," she brushed off his words with a bit of a slur and turned to hug Margaery, the pretty little thing.
"It's good to see you, your grace," said the girl politely as Cersei hugged her. She was youthful and refreshing, a sweet little flower. This one will be much easier on Joff's nerves, Cersei felt strangely charmed by Margaery tonight.
"Child," she smiled at the younger girl who eyed her strangely, "You're a good seed," she cried emotionally, then took another very unneeded sip of wine.
Joffrey watched her with uncertainty as she swallowed the bitter liquid. She stumbled a bit in her place, as her intoxicated eyes met his she saw his father in him, his true father. Both of them are perfect. Angels beamed down from the Seven Heavens.
The air seemed to grow hotter, and Cersei felt a bit dizzy. She looked back to Margaery with a weak smile, "Margaery, my dear. Please. Take care of him," she felt like she had to sit down. The wine was doing all the talking for her. "I..love him...so dearly."
"Of course, your grace," said the little flower.
Cersei felt weak and so dizzy, struggled to hold their gaze. Margaery was just a blob of chestnut curls and purple silk. Her face was like a model's, with sharp, flawless features. Her makeup was a smudged mess, but it was okay because everyone, right then, was a mess, and she looked so beautiful. More beautiful than ever. She must take care of Joffrey. She must make him happy, Cersei was confident she would.
Cersei lifted the chalice to her lips in an attempt to take another sip, but her arm was so weak the cup felt far too heavy. She truly had to sit down somewhere, but she couldn't bring herself to move.
She looked over to Joff, a blur of gold, who was staring at her with concern, and she reached for him, his shoulder, his arm, his chest, anything for her to grab onto so she wouldn't tip over.
"Mother, you've had enough to drink," he said, allowing her to grasp his shoulder for support, as the hallway spun. He watched painfully as she took another swig.
"Queens can drink as much as they like," she slurred, mocking him, with a lazy grin.
At this point, she was seeing double, and when Joffrey just rolled his eyes at her remark, there was two of him, and as the hallway continued to spin, she grew dizzier and warmer, and even nauseous. Perhaps she was beginning to tip over, because she suddenly felt his boyish arm snake around her, to prevent her from going down.
"Let's get you to bed, Mother," Joff's voice was close now, by her ear, and she tipped her head back to meet the giant drops of crystal blue staring at her. She recalled the long nights ago when she was the one getting him off to bed.
"Oh, how the times have changed," she cried, feeling the sudden urge to sob, as Joffrey hauled her down to corridor. She leaned into his warmth, as the tears began to glisten in her eyes.
"Hush, Mother. You're going to wake up the dead," Joff groaned, glancing back at Margaery who remained behind, watching with concern.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Joffrey called back over his shoulder to her, as he escorted his drunk mother off to bed.
Just like the last thought before bed, Margaery awoke thinking of him, as well. She had fallen under his spell, and he completely was consuming her at this point. First thing in the morning, after washing up, dressing in a plain white dress, and eating a quick breakfast in her room, she was retrieved by a servant and some guards to get measured out for her wedding gown.
She followed these strangers through the long fancy halls their expensive shoes clacking on the glossy marble. The corridors were bright and vibrant with the gold haze of daylight, and the air smelled of seawater and salt air. Margaery felt as if she were in a fairytale in this beautiful palace, her eyes wandering out at the bay as they passed an opening in the wall. There was a weeping angel statue and followed by a lush thicket of flowers snarled over the walls. Her eyes swept over the vines climbing up the pillars as they passed the open wing, that reminded her of home. Yes, it reminded her of home, but she didn't feel that she missed it at all. She was very perfectly content in this strange new paradise.
After what felt like a million steps, they reached a room on the highest floors, with a gorgeous view from the massive windows overlooking the ocean. The room was full of fabrics, sewing supplies, and a few of her court ladies, Lucinda being one of them. They brought her up on a shallow stone pedestal to take her measurements.
Just as they were sizing her waist with some tape, the king arrived, swinging up the door abruptly as he marched in, The Hound, like always, following behind like a good guard dog.
Naturally, the sight of the Joffrey made her stomach flutter. She watched him with serenity, watching a blur of sunlight crawl over his golden locks. He was perfect. She couldn't get last night out of her mind, it was stuck on repeat. Just thinking of what she did for him then, was making her hot now.
Every time their eyes met all she could think of was his cock in her mouth. She had to do it again. She craved him. She needed more. She wanted him to fuck her bloody, just like he said he would.
"Diamonds or pearls?" He said, snapping her from the daze as he held the expensive, glittering jewelry above her bust where it would hang.
"Diamonds," she replied instantly, and his powerful, icy gaze drew to hers, stopping her heart. "Is that even a question?"
Joffrey smiled as he moved behind her. "You have expensive taste," his warm breath touched her ear as he lay the priceless gems over her racing heart, the sharp diamonds, tickling her skin. "This necklace can buy you an entire fleet."
An entire fleet? He was correct about her expensive taste.
"Perhaps I'm with the right man," she turned her head over her shoulder to give him a coy, kittenish smile.
They were eye to eye, their mouths hardly an inch apart. So close but so far away. She wanted to move forward and push their lips passionately together so badly, but she knew he wouldn't like that in front of all these people. She knew he wanted them to be very inconspicuous with their affection. A bride may not wed a king if she is not innocent. Though no one would ever find out anyhow...
When did the Lannisters ever follow the rules anyway?
She focused on his mouth. They were so very close, she could feel the soft breath leaving the small parting between his lips. She wished he would just kiss her.
Joffrey's blue eyes were trained on her lips as well, then darted around the room hastily, searching for any watchers. The group of court ladies were all busy trimming and measuring fabrics, and weren't paying attention to the two of them. The only watcher was his hound, leaned against the doorway, towering over the room.
And just like that, he drifted away, the intimacy depleting faster than it had appeared.
Margaery averted her eyes shyly as her heart sank. She struggled to come up with something to say, to distract their minds from the ineptitude of it all. Then suddenly, an important thought tagged her, one that had been bothering her for since the night before.
"Joffrey," Margaery's tone was smooth and not at all pleading, though she was about to ask him something. "My sweet king," she frosted her words, her feline eyes returning to his.
She was going to figure if he truly meant what he said about Sansa becoming a court lady. She knew he was going to a small council meeting after this and she must ensure that he brings this topic up.
"Do you remember last night?" she asked, causing his eyes to flicker with tension and his cheeks to flush a bit. She realized she had worded it incorrectly, and felt herself growing hot in the face as well as she recalled what else had happened last night, remembering their intimacy.
"When we spoke of Sansa," she clarified, scrambling to find her words, never averting her eyes from his, but taking a slow breath to gather herself.
"Sansa?" there was some disappointment in his voice, as his brows knitted.
"Your mother suggested a new place for her as one of my court ladies, do you remember, Joff?" Margaery asked choosing her words wisely, finding his hand to gently squeeze it, praying the simple skin to skin contact would be enough to keep his answer positive.
"Oh, yes..." he trailed off, gazing down at their hands woven together, the blush on his cheeks growing more apparent.
"Are you going to discuss it in the meeting today, my love?" She asked with pleading eyes, caressing his hand with her thumb.
Please, Joff.
His eyes remained trained on their hands for a moment before he glanced over to see a few court ladies peering over.
Margaery didn't quite catch what he grumbled under his breath, but then snapped his hand away from her quickly, and her heart sank plummeting again.
Joffrey, who cares? She wanted to whine, but she only sighed, averting her eyes shyly.
"Yes, my approval has been granted, I'll bring it up to the small council," he growled to her surprise, with a firmness in his voice that was so foreign to her.
Her first emotion was a wave of gratefulness from his approval, but then the realization occurred he was starting to address her with the same hostility he used with everyone else.
He's growing more comfortable with me, she knew it was true. His true colors will show soon, once the butterflies fade. She realized this, yes, and it seemed like anyone in the right mind would try their best to get away, but something in her heart just screamed his name. Unexplainably, he was so pure to her. She felt it was her destiny to love this boy unconditionally.
So, she beamed at him with perfect white teeth, her eyes filled with devotion, "I thank you with all my heart, my king," she wanted to reach for his hand again but she refrained from it this time, knowing it might be unwise to. She knew he would yank away.
Joffrey gave her a small nod, but remained silent, eyeing her strangely.
Margaery disregarded this, as the court ladies hurried over with some dress cut outs. They suffocated her with questions and fabric to try on, and suddenly their interaction was over, and after dismissing The Hound, Joffrey, now the only boy present, lingered around the outskirts of the room as Margaery slipped out of her dress to stand solely in her panties and corset.
She caught Joff's subtle, virgin eye, admiring her exposed curves and busty cleavage, accentuated by the corset. Instead of blushing or smiling at him, she continued to just hold her gaze high and out the window at the bay, her posture flawless and feminine, and secretly, she could feel the lust already stirring in her core.
Margaery glanced back to Joffrey, who's young gaze was assessing her wide hips and toned thighs. He was so drawn in by her beauty, he didn't even notice she was staring directly at him. He was making her worry about how she looked. She made sure to suck in, even though she very obviously didn't need to, with her naturally slender waist and tightly laced corset. She internally scolded herself for feeling shy after she realized she shouldn't be at all.
He is just a little boy! She thought, slightly frustrated with herself. I must be confident. I am a goddess. I am going to be the queen.
After trying on many dresses, it wasn't until midday that they pieced together the perfect design.
Joffrey had left early to attend the meeting, while Margaery and her court ladies finished adding small details to the dress he had decided on.
"So..." one of the girls started as she stitched the low cut v-neckline of the ivory dress. "The Stark girl will now be one of us?"
This threw Margaery off guard, and she glanced down at the blonde girl, not failing to catch the bitterness in her tone.
They had all been listening to her and Joff?
"No, she will not," Margaery said firmly, and the girl peeked up at the queen-to-be with wide eyes. "She will be my personal lady-in-waiting. My personal attendant. She will be higher status than the rest of you."
The girls were all quiet for a pitiful moment, as the brat reddened, then silently continued her stitchwork.
"I'm so excited for your wedding, your grace," Lucinda chimed in, not paying any mind to the awkward air. "The king will make a wonderful husband."
"Oh yes, he completes me," Margaery said, imaging the endless things they could do once married. "We will have a lot of fun together," she added, a risque touch in her tone.
The little minions giggled beneath her, from below the pedestal.
"You're the luckiest girl in Westeros," said one, Margaery didn't know the name of. "You get to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and sleep every night in the royal palace with that gorgeous blondie."
"I know, Joff's delicious. He always smells of fine soap and his hands are so soft," said Margaery and the girls squealed and fussed over such minor details, making her grin in amusement. She couldn't imagine their reaction if she revealed to them the thickness and length of his cock. The feeling of his sensitive skin sliding over her tongue. The taste of his priceless, royal seed, drizzling down her throat.
"The ceremony itself will be so grand," Lucinda continued, ripping Margaery from her pornographic thoughts. "You'll look like a goddess in this dress."
Margaery's stomach fluttered at that simple word. "Lucinda," she smiled, climbing down from the pedestal. "I am a goddess."
After asking a few handmaids for directions, Margaery finally found Sansa under the midday sun, sitting at the docks, outside the palace, watching the waves.
Margaery crossed the withered dock, excitement racing through her veins as she spotted the firey girl dressed in blue. She matched the ocean perfectly, the long blue ruffles of her dress blending with the waves.
Sansa's red head turned to look at the source of the approaching footsteps. Her bright eyes were alarmed for a split second as they landed on Margaery, then softened instantly when realizing who it was.
"Your grace" her long red hair shimmered as she stood quickly, scrambling to form a curtsy.
"I'm not the queen yet, my dear," Margaery grabbed Sansa's pale hands, proving to how unnecessary the formality of the greet was. Their fingers laced together and Margrey noted her hands were soft and warm, and much daintier than Joffrey's.
"Oh, well...I don't know. It just sounds right..." a hint of blush teased Sansa's cheeks and her bright, sapphire eyes averted shyly.
Margaery felt herself smiling, inadvertently. She adored this girl, and her words, and the way she moved. Something about her was captivating. She was so youthful and refreshing to look at.
Margaery gave her hands a squeeze before letting go, to sit down on the docks where the redhead had just been seated.
"Sit with me, love," Margaery patted the rugged wood planks, settled just above the lapping waves. The air smelled of salt and the gulls called to one another in the sky.
Margaery took in the open vastness of the ocean, here eyes trained along the endless blue horizon. It just goes on forever.
"Thank you for the other day," Sansa said suddenly breaking the brief moment of silence, gathering her skirts as she sat down next to the Highgarden girl. "During breakfast."
"Yes, of course, Sansa. I'll always have your back," Margaery vowed, her eyes wandered to meet the Stark girl's. She recalled the day before when she had sharply defended the little dove. Her fingers gently found the other girl's wrist, and squeezed it affectionately, "We're friends, sweet girl."
For the first time, Margaery could see sincere contentment in Sansa's eyes. This whole time, she had known this girl as a sad little bird, lost from home, always down, but suddenly she seemed to bloom to life under her touch.
Margaery realized the minimal effort it took on her part, to make this sweet northern girl's life so much easier. She adored with just a few carefully chosen words she can change everything. Margaery recognized this power she had, as Sansa smiled her pretty white smile, a look that tugged on the girl's heart.
"T-thank you so much, your grace," Sansa's lips struggled on her sincere words, looking up to Margaery as if she was an actual goddess.
Margaery knew this was a good time to tell Sansa what she had managed to get from the king.
"Sansa, I have some news," she began, rubbing her wrist sweetly, and the younger girl's bright eyes trained on her, listening intently, shuddering under her touch.
Margaery offered a warm smile, to assure her it was nothing to be worried of.
"The queen regent and I, have spoken with the king, regarding your role here in King's Landing," said Margaery, the Stark girl's eyes widening at her words. She leaned in as if she was closer she would absorb the words better, and Margaery could smell the lavender soap on her skin. Her deep blue eyes were glistening with hope. "King Joffrey has decided to allow you to be my personal court lady."
"What?" Sansa cried out of pure joy, a sparkling hope distilling in her giant blue eyes. As a grin broke across her face, suddenly her blue arms were thrown around Margaery, pulling her into an abrupt excited hug. "That's wonderful news!"
"I'm so glad," Margaery couldn't help but grin enormously too, at the redhead's enthusiasm as she hugged her back tightly. "We'll be even closer now."
There was an amazing sense of accomplishment, bringing such joy to this poor little dove.
"I'm forever in your debt, your grace," Sansa murmured, her eyes fluttered shut as she remained nuzzled against the older girl.
"You may call me Margaery, little love."
She's such an innocent little thing, Margaery thought as the sweet girl's arms tightened around Margaery's waist.
Sansa smelled of fresh roses, and her blue silk dress was smooth and pleasant as it moved, gliding over Margaery's exposed skin, who was in a much more revealing dress.
If she was going to be completely honest with herself Sansa's arms were the most comforting feeling. She found it almost impossible to tear herself away from the warm, tranquility. So they just remained embraced for a bit longer, watching the waves.
It probably past midnight when the lightning cut through the black sky with a crack, awakening Margaery with a gasp.
She sat up in her bed, the air rather cold. It was almost too dark to see, except the moonlight shone through the storming window, revealing the black shapes of furniture in her room.
At the far end, she thought she saw a dark shadowy figure, standing and watching her. Fear seized her with its tight grip and she felt the sudden urge to panic. Her heart raced and she wanted to scream and cry and run for help, but when the lightning cracked again like a powerful whip in the storming night sky, the room lit up for a heartbeat allowing her to catch a glimpse of this shadow monster, only to reveal it was just a lamp, with the torches blown out.
She slumped back in her feather bed with a sigh of relief, still feeling on edge, even though she knew nothing was there to hurt her. She didn't feel safe, she hated sleeping alone, and still wasn't used to it, even after these past few weeks of having to do so. Remembering the guards outside her door should have made her felt less uneasy, but she soon realized the edge she felt wasn't fear, maybe at first it had been, but now it was something different. It was a strange emotion, a mix of want and anxiety. The questionable idea had just crossed her mind. Joffrey.
She hadn't seen him since this morning, and she wanted him more than anything right now. He would keep her safe, in his warm, loving embrace, she knew it. He would take the edge off with his tender touch, and sweet lips. Suddenly she was hooked on this fantasy of him and decided she could not go back to sleep without him. This fantasy could be real and he was only a few hallways away. She had to feel him, his warmth against her, and inhale his musky, distinct scent, and feel his soft golden lock curling through her fingers. She wanted to absorb him, to devour him.
Like any lovesick teen, she was plotting in her head, now, to sneak out and go see him.
She wondered whether she should go to his chambers or try to bring him back to hers. She wondered how she would even slip into his bedroom without being caught by a guard. It was foolish and impulsive but she paid no mind, for the sleep and edge were corrupting her mind.
After some thought, Margaery decided to do it. She crept through the halls, swift and stealthy like a cat, wearing nothing but a short white, silk slip. It revealed much of her thighs, however, she wore a long black silk robe over herself, that helped to cover most of everything. She was silent, and the only sound was the patter of rain on the roof shingles and the soft crackle of the wall torches.
How am I even going to do this? she thought anxiously, stealing through the dark hall, only after making sure no guard is present.
The castle rumbled with thunder, and lightning illuminating the corridor with an electric snap. She jumped with fright, but continued through the shadows, praying this will go over smoothly. The rain grew heavier, pouring down on the castle, and down the windows like buckets of water.
Margaery reached the hall of the king's private chambers. Her heart raced, and she saw a few guards outside Joffrey's bedroom door, one of them sleeping, two of them whispering quietly to one another, and the last one was the unmistakable hound, leaning against the doorway, taking frequent swigs from his flask.
She eyed him carefully for a moment, before striding out into the firelight. The men all turned to look at her at the same time, surveying her with interest.
The Hound spoke first.
"Lady Margaery, what are you doing up at this hour?" he growled seemingly impatient already, and suddenly another clash of lightning struck the sky, revealing his gruesome, burned face and dark, frightening eyes.
"That is none of your concern," she spoke sharply, holding her head high, "Everyone can leave right now without an issue, or the king will have a word with you."
The men exchanged worried glances, but The Hound remained unmoving, looking slightly amused.
"Leave. Now," Margaery ordered firmly, her eyes flashing with gravity.
Lightning cracked in the sky again, lighting the stone corridor up for a heartbeat, and the men exchanged looks again.
"You two go," The Hound ordered, sending them off with a nod of the head.
And you, Margaery thought sharply, glaring at him, her heart beginning to thump with anger.
"I must stay here and guard the king's private quarters," The Hound said to the men, but held Margey's glare. He seemed to have read her mind.
The two guards started down the hallway quickly, leaving the two of them alone in awkward silence.
I must find a way to get rid of him, she narrowed her eyes at his stubborn glare. Then, gathered all her courage and strode towards him, so they were close enough to touch.
"I need to get into this room," she coaxed, smiling at him the way she would at some boys. "I'm well aware it's your duty to guard him, but I assure you I will not hurt him." Only pleasure him, she wanted to add so badly.
He chuckled his deep rumble of a laugh. "I know your intentions are not to hurt him, little girl. Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"An idiot?" Margaery echoed, then laughed her exciting laugh. "Of course not. I know you are a smart man," she smiled sweetly. "You know exactly what I want, love. Why not just step aside and let me claim my king?"
"It's not that easy. You know you can't just go lie with him, little girl," he sniggered cynically.
"And why is that?" she raised her eyebrows, her eyes flickering with tension. He was beginning to get on her nerves. I should have the power to tell him to go, shouldn't I? I should have some power, considering I will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in less than a moon.
"We all here know that it is widely shunned upon you are wed, now go back to your chambers, before I carry you back."
Margaery stared at him blankly for a moment before a subtle smirk tugged on her mouth.
"I hope you're joking right now, foolish dog," she snapped with the raise of a brow, "When Joffrey finds out of this, it will be over for you."
She laughed crookedly, her teeth gleaming and sharp, while The Hound towered over her, expressionless.
"I'll be your queen soon enough, so you might as well just start listening now," her voice was suddenly gentle and soothing, but her words were efficient. "Move aside, please," she said politely as she could manage. Margaery oddly trusted he wouldn't reveal anything. He had been protecting the king, the boy's whole life, so she would trust he would protect his reputation as well.
"I know you won't tell," she was confident with her words, eyeing him under her thick lashes and arched brow.
The Hound stared at her with his dark cold eyes, his face shadowy in the firelight, until he finally gave out a long exaggerated sigh, before stepping aside to let her push the door open. She dipped her head at him in thanks before slipping into the small space between the double doors.
Suddenly it was too dark to see. Margaery heard the doors click shut behind her and at last, she had made it. She was in this black, cool room, the only sound was the rain showering down on the palace, streaming down the windows.
It had all seemed to happen so fast. Her stomach began to crawl with anxiety. She had never been in his room before. Joffrey was somewhere in here, sleeping. She had no idea what had come over her. Moments ago, she was in her own bed and somehow her racing heart led her down the hall in the night, and now she standing breathless in King Joffrey's bedroom.
Margaery could make out the shape of his canopy bed in the dark and she began to silently move towards it, and suddenly another clap of electric in the sky, made her nearly jump out of her skin, it lit up his room for a brief moment and she could see all the pretty, expensive things.
She gathered herself quickly, standing before the curtains of his bed and slipped out of her silk robe, letting it pool around her ankles on the floor.
The air was cold and crisp against her fair, exposed skin, causing gooseflesh to break out over her arms and her nipples hardened against the thin silk fabric of her white slip. She was relieved to be in the dark.
All while holding her breath, Margaery gingerly reached out to move the curtain from Joffrey's bed away, to create a dark space for her to enter.
He's going to think I'm crazy, she worried, then assured herself she was being foolish by thinking that. I must be confident. I'm an older girl, a goddess. I am above and beyond his wildest dreams, she told herself, renewing her confidence.
However, her heart was still racing faster than ever, as she crawled onto the feather mattress. For a brief moment the moon shining in allowed her to see the gold fabric, softer and finer to the touch than she anticipated, then the curtains fell shut behind her, the blackness taking over. She crawled in the dark, to him, in the warm safety of under the canopy. Anxiety swarmed her stomach as she moved through the giant mess of soft feather duvet and silk sheets and stumbled a bit over the obscene amount of pillows.
She knelt before the lion king's small frame, nestled in the blankets. In the dark, she could make out some features. This was the first time she ever had seen him without his crown. It made him look smaller, younger, for some reason. When the low roar of thunder rumbled the castle, he remained sleeping soundly, unaffected by the storm.
His chest was gently rising and falling as he slept peacefully and she listened to his soft, subtle breathing. It was remarkable to see him like this, so calm and quiet. All the burning hostility was now melted away, leaving such an innocent little thing.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out his sharp, angelic features. It would be immoral to rupture such peace. He was too beautiful to disturb, so instead of waking him up for a ride, she slipped under the duvet, warm with his body heat, moving very carefully.
This is insanity, she couldn't believe she was actually here.
Margaery cuddled up to him, only to discover he was wearing nothing but boxer briefs. The rest of his teenage body was exposed to her; his skin was warm to the touch and very soft, like a child's, not at all like Renly's.
Her arm snaked over her chest, his muscles were subtle and boyish and the feeling of such skin to skin contact was intensifying the ache between her thighs, but she ignored it.
His skin was hot against hers and he smelled vaguely like body heat and sweat, but even that too was turning her on. Again, she pushed the dirty thoughts away, as she rested her head down onto the goose feather pillow, leaning gently against his shoulder.
It was not just thoughts now, but a physical aching feeling. Her core cried for his touch so intensely, she was leaking through the thin fabric of her gown. Margaery knew she had to do something. She could never go to sleep like this. Her initial thoughts, just having him right here, up against her, would be enough to cease the edging, aching, wanting lust, but it, unfortunately, it was not.
She craved more. She longed for the feeling of him between her legs, driving into her. She wanted to feel him filling her up, filling her insides. She was so wet for him and he didn't even know it.
After some internal debate with herself, she finally cursed herself and slid her nightdress up her thighs, the smooth feeling of the silk fabric blankets against her pubic region made her shiver and tingle. She felt herself getting swollen and wet, starving for release.
Margaery began to rub her fingers over her clitoris, breathing out loudly in the quiet darkness, at the intense pleasure. She imagined it was Joffrey's juvenile fingers, moving over the sensitive area in place of hers, as she squeezed her eyes shut. She spread her thighs open wide, as she used her other hand, slipping her middle and ring finger, between the folds of her slick, shaved cunt, pushing deep into her tight, wet, untouched hole, causing her to gasp at the sweet ecstasy.
What made it so hot, was the fact she was in King Joffrey's bed right pressed against his warm sleeping body, and he had no idea. This is just the kind of dirty little thing teenage boys imagine, a girl sneaking into his bed, she imagined his head would explode if he were conscious to see this.
She would expect him to wake up and fuck the daylights out of her. Turn her around give it to her rough, the way she liked it. If he choked her, she would gasp like a good girl. No matter how hard he slapped her ass, she would moan and sigh for him, arching her back like a bow.
Margaery threw the covers off of her, and pulled her dress all the way up her body to reveal her milky breasts, as she rubbed herself, her exposed nipples hardening in the air.
The feeling of Joffrey's smooth, warm side, against her reminded her he was very real, and right next to her, not just a fantasy, as she touched herself. She rubbed her clit, softly with her fingertips in a circular motion, as she pumped her two dainty fingers in and out of herself, swift and efficient, but still quiet and careful enough not to wake him.
She wanted to moan his name because, in her mind, it's his virgin boy fingers, so innocent, yet somehow so skilled. He's never touched a girl in his life, yet now he's now rubbing her tenderly and expertly. She tried to refrain from making too much noise, to ensure he stays asleep, but she breathed again loudly in the dark warmth.
Margaery's fingers worked faster over her clit and drove in and out of her tight hole, as deep as she could reach. Joffrey's fingers were longer and thicker, she wished he was awake so badly. The sensation of her fingers was growing unbearably amazing, before she exploded in absolute ecstasy, the warm tingling feeling began overtaking her body in waves of intense pleasure.
She squeezed her eyes shut, as she climaxed, her fingers never ceased moving as she imagined Joffrey's perfect, smooth cock, driving into her, filling her entirely to the brim with his Lannister seed. She bit down on the blanket to refrain from moaning, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him.
The ecstasy seized her for a few heartbeats longer before the throbbing, warm feeling of her core gradually began to die down.
For a moment, she lay quiet and still, breathless in the dark.
Joffrey's soft, even breathing, let her know he was still asleep, as she shifted to get comfortable in the blankets, a little smile plastered over her rosy cheeks. To be honest, she was pretty amazed he didn't wake up during all this, as she recalled all her breathless sighs in the dark, and rapid movements.
She couldn't wait to see his reaction in the morning when he wakes up and sees her sleeping in his bed.
Under the soothing patter of rain on the roof, Margaery snuggled into his warm shoulder, his skin so smooth and bare against hers. And like the king beside her, it didn't take long for Margaery slip off into a peaceful slumber.