Chapter Three: Monstrous Desires

"All right, so what happened then?" King Geoffrey was determined to get to the bottom of his mother's latest plot. Lady Margaery Tyrell had awakened in his bedroom with a pounding headache, but otherwise she seemed perfectly fine. It wasn't like Queen Cersei to leave her victims alive.

"Your Majesty, I don't feel I should say anything more." With her eyes downcast, perched on the very edge of mad little Geoffrey's bed, Margaery looked the very picture of maidenly modesty. "It wouldn't be right for me to speak of your mother's unnatural desires."

"Unnatural desires?" Geoffrey laughed but his eyes were cruel as he sat down beside Lady Margaery on the bed. He seized her long, brown hair in one fist, and yanked so that she had to look him in the eye. "You will tell me everything, future wife, or I will do worse things than mother ever did."

"Very well, Majesty." Margaery met his gaze and didn't flinch. "This afternoon your mother summoned me to her chamber, and she wanted me to look at the records of the palace finances. Only she didn't put the record books out on the desk. She spread them across her royal bed, and motioned for me to sit beside her."

"Yes, go on." Geoffrey was impatient, but he sensed he couldn't just order Margaery to get to the point. She was different from Sansa and the other girls. She wasn't afraid of him. So if she took her time there had to be a good reason.

"Well, while we were sitting together in her bedchamber, the Queen drew me closer and began talking of slaves, telling how young females are trained in the arts of pleasure."

"Did she threaten you with slavery?" Geoffrey asked.

"Not exactly," Margaery confessed. "She seemed more interested in me than angry. She kept saying that I might be from a noble house, but I looked exactly like the sort of girl who would fetch a very high price in the slave market. But she didn't sound angry. Her voice was soft, almost gentle. She kept patting my knee and running her fingers through my hair, saying over and over how beautiful it was."

"I wish I was in my mother's place," Geoffrey blurted out. As a king he was entitled to say whatever was on his mind, yet for some reason he actually blushed. Lady Margaery had a way of putting a spell on him with her voice and movements. His head was full of monsters, everyone said so. But when Margaery spoke the monsters in his head seemed to sleep. Only his body remained awake, his blood surging and all his manly parts starting to swell and throb in a way that was total madness yet wasn't at all like his other feelings.

". . . and I shall be yours forever, willingly and gladly," Margaery was saying, caressing Geoffrey's cheek in much the same way as Cersei had caressed hers a few short hours ago. "But only if you can keep me safe from the monstrous desires of your mother."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Geoffrey wanted to kiss the slim, scantily clad Margaery even more than he wanted to kill his mother. He'd stab Cersei over and over again, but first . . . but first . . . a sudden jab of pain made him cry aloud.

"You may kiss me after the queen is dead," Margaery said, smiling at the dazed look on Geoffrey's face. "Swear your undying loyalty to me, my sweet and brave and handsome king. Swear you will protect me always."

"Yes, yes, I swear!" Geoffrey was a little frightened. He didn't know how he had been disarmed. He had been leaning closer to Margaery on the bed, his eyes closed, anticipating his very first kiss. Instead his cheek burned like fire. When he opened his eyes, Margaery was smiling at him. His dagger was in her hand, and the point was dripping blood.

His blood.