Lunch with Margaery Tyrell
From Create Your Own Story
Robb was sitting on the patio and enjoying the view over the ocean as the Tyrell girl approached, guarded by two Stark men. She was stunningly beautiful, gracile and slender like a flower, with long brown hair and pretty brown eyes. Her dress was elegant, but daring - a deep neckline showed the shadows between her breasts.
"Lady Margaery", he said and stood up from his chair, taking her hand and kissing it. Her skin was slightly more tanned than Sansa's - she was from the Reach after all - but still fairer than a commoner's. She looked noble and regal in every regard, yet there was a cunning sparkle in her eyes. She'd make a good queen, no doubt.
"Lord Stark", the girl answered, not looking like a prisoner at all. There was a confidence about her Robb had seldom encountered, and the slightest hint of a smirk. Robb knew at once it wasn't just baseless arrogance like with Daenerys. This girl was dangerous.
"I wasn't aware the Northerners practiced such courtesy with their prisoners."
Robb just gave her a smile as they both sat down and started to eat. "All men treat beautiful girls the same, no matter where they're from. And you're not my prisoner."
Margaery didn't take her eyes off him. "Am I not?"
"If you were, you would be in chains."
She tilted her head the slightest bit, yet it seemed like it was a move studied for years and planned exactly for this situation. Everything she did oozed confidence and sexuality. She was seducing him without even saying or doing anything remotely immodest. "Guards are chains, just less obvious."
Robb kept eye contact for a few seconds, not entirely sure if the sexual tension between them was real or if he was just imagining things. Then he nodded to his men, sending them away. They were alone, the tall hedges hiding them from everyone but a few ships out in Blackwater Bay.
Margaery smirked. "So I'm free to go now?"
"Where would you go? Your house is disowned. You're just a pretty young girl without a home."
"Pretty young girls are always in high demand," she replied, not missing a beat. Robb was amazed of how she could just openly talk of becoming a prostitute without even lowering her eyes. This girl had no shame, yet she somehow didn't seem vulgar.
"That would be quite a waste", he said, feeling his control of the conversation slipping away.
"Oh, right", Margaery said while gracefully eating an olive. "You men always want the beautiful things for yourself."
Robb bit his lips and finished a blood orange. "What is it you wished to talk about?"
She smirked. "Marriage."
Robb raised his eyebrows. "Marriage?"
"Yes. I'm offering you my hand in marriage. You may be a wild Northerner, but my handmaidens have told me you can please a girl."
Robb laughed, slightly angry at himself that he felt flattered. Her opinion shouldn't matter to him. But damn, she was a fine woman.
"Why would I marry you?", he asked, trying to regain the upper hand. "I can make use of your body in any way I want."
Other girls might have been intimidated by the threat of rape. Not so Margaery Tyrell. She just stood up, gracefully and seductively at the same time, walked around the table and sat down on his lap. She pressed her body against his, then grabbed the fabric of her dress and dragged it down, revealing two small, but perky and wonderful tits. Before Robb could even react to any of this, she took his hands and placed them on her breasts. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
The kiss was more passionate, seductive, sexual and hot than any other Robb had ever had. She made him feel like this was everything he needed, like no title and no wealth could ever compare to kissing Margaery Tyrell - and he knew that bedding her would be the greatest pleasure imaginable. After a few seconds, or several sunny years, she broke away, leaving him yearning for more. Only now he noticed he was still holding her tits. They felt soft and perfect.
"You can take my body by force", she whispered, "But I can give you so much more than just my body."
With that she stood up, fixed her dress, and left. Robb was about to call his guards and stop her, but remembered he'd told her she was free to go. Damn, she's clever, Robb thought, finishing his food. Once he was done, he retired to his room and prepared for his fealty ceremony. He put on his armor, feeling it made him look strong, even if he was kneeling. He would miss being King, even if it was for such a brief period of time. With a deep breath, he left his room, prepared to do what needed to be done. Sansa was waiting outside, and Robb took her in his arm.
"It's what father would of wanted," Sansa reminded him, then whispered in his ear "And you'll always be my King in the North." She planted a kiss on his ear, filling him with warmth. Together, the two proceeded to the ceremony.
(TurinTurambar)
