Chapter 43 (R-18)

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She came to my rooms that night, when the moon was well past the center of the night sky and the castle had fallen asleep. We had strolled across Myrcella's garden for an hour before we went our separate ways. I still had memories of when Tommen was younger, of him and his sister caring for the flowerbeds and how they had to do everything short of murder to keep Joffrey away from the garden. The little shit had a hard-on for destroying anything we loved.

I pointed out all the special places Tommen was fond of, the raised terrace where he'd watch his cats laze around in the sun, the long smoothstone bench him and his sister would lay down to watch the stars after sneaking out at night, and the small grove of lemon trees they would sit beneath and listen to old Barristan Selmy's adventures.

When the topic shifted to the upcoming wedding, Margaery would go on and on about what she wanted with her dress and the arch of flowers we'd say our vows under and the gold and green streamers she wanted decorating the sept.

Despite her acuity in the game of thrones, there was still a part of her who dreamed of a fantasy wedding with a white knight in shining armor who'd come to carry her away. I had plenty of silver armors, polished enough to gleam and sparkle against the sun, but there was nothing bright in my heart. That boat had sailed away years ago.

I was brought back to reality when the door to my apartments creaked open. Jaime peeked his head in first, to check that I was alright inside. After a cursory glance around the drawing room, he gave me an exasperated look and shook his head, before standing aside to let Margaery in. The cheek on the guy. He was the last person in the world who could call me up for a discreet bit of pre-wedding depravity.

My fiancé walked in all cloaked and covered, and had I not known Jaime would have checked her identity, I would've thought her an assassin. That was until she reached up to her shoulders, took a hold of the cloak, spread the collar, and let it slip past her slim arms. Like a piece of art being unveiled, the thick woolen cloak dropped and pooled at her feet, exposing the fairy beneath.

Margaery wore only a thin slip of silver silk, hugging her body's every curve, hinting at her pert breasts and narrow waist; the fabric shone as it caught a shaft of moonlight. The breeches I had on tightened as I watched her step out of the silk ring around her dainty feet, one tiny step at a time.

She seemed to change her mind midway past the room and her seductive amble changed into a run. She jumped right into my arms, and I had to take a step back as her weight crashed against me. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and her sweet mouth met mine in a tangle of hot words and wine-stained lips.

"I was so worried for you that night," she breathed between kisses.

My hands slithered past the short skirt of her nightwear to her bare ass, and I carried her like that to my bedroom. Her breasts were pressed against my naked chest, and she groaned as her nipples rubbed against the fabric of her nightie up and down with my every stride. When my legs finally hit the bed, I let myself fall down on top of her.

"No waiting," Margaery whispered against my neck. She reached down between us and released me from my breeches. "Inside… please, my king."

My own hand wandered to where our bodies met and brushed against her wet core. Margaery hissed a breath, and I made sure to keep pressure on her pleasure spot as I entered her. We groaned together, her nails raking bloody trenches on my back, and I started to move.

We fucked like animals like that for what felt like hours, until I pulled out and flipped her to her knees, then speared her again before she could complain. I set a fast pace from the start and she eagerly met my thrusts, swinging back her ass against my hips. I slapped her shapely cheeks with an open palm after every buck; her pale skin turned bright red and she whined like a whore, but she loved it. If I stopped, she'd cried out into the night, asking for more.

When she finally came, her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell face forward onto the bed. I went down with her, my body flush against hers, keeping up shallow thrusts to prolong her orgasm. Her sweaty skin was like the softest velvet beneath me, and her moans a melody of woman and sin.

It wasn't long before I felt myself on the edge. In my blissful mind, her silky caramel hair turned bright red, and when I leaned down to breath in its sweetness, I came with the smell of fire and ash and hot iron tickling at my nose.

My high faded after a moment, and I shook the image off my head. I rolled off of Margaery and laid on my back on the bed, trying to understand what had happened. But the image that had been so clear in my mind's eye faded away like smoke through my fingers, quicker than any memory had a right to disappear, and I gave in to the urge of letting it go.

Margaery curled up beside me, and we cuddled in the bed like new lovers, her head resting against my chest. Her hair smelled of lilies on a summer's day. Soon, she started kissing at the side of my neck, her hands wandered back to my groin, and I knew she was ready to go again.

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I leaned over on the bed. "How did you manage to get that done?" I asked, still panting.

Margaery finished drinking the moon tea I had ready by the bedside, then she brought the sheets back over her neck. "The last bit with my legs over my head?

I snorted. "No, you idiot. With the Frey girls and their dresses."

"Oh, that." She shrugged beneath the blankets. "Nothing special. I recommended this great seamstress here in King's Landing to them. Then I paid the woman to create a fault in the weave of their dresses, giving her enough gold to relocate with her daughter to Highgarden. She really is good. When the dresses were done, just one pull at the right place and it'd all come undone. One of my family's knights was more than happy to… accidentally do it."

My eyes went wide as saucers and I flopped back down on the bed. "Wow… you're an evil witch, Lady Tyrell," I said, laughing. Margaery joined me chuckling, before we settled in for the night.

There was a long stretch of silence, until I heard a soft, "Tommen."

I had almost fallen asleep. "What?" I groaned.

She turned on her side to look at me. "Not by the gardens, I know, but perhaps we could do it by the stables one day."

Needless to say, I went to sleep with my belly aching of laughter.