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Desert Rose, Winter Rose, and Golden Rose

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Among all the other Sand Snakes, your father Oberyn Martell gave the honor to you to accompany him and Ellaria to King’s Landing for King Joffrey’s wedding. The invitation was meant for your Uncle Doran, but due to his ill health he would be unable to attend. Better for your father. You knew he was still intent on getting vengeance for his sister’s brutal death along with her small children.

“They might take this as a slight. Don’t you think? Not only will it not be Doran attending, but you bring your lover and bastard daughter along to add insult to injury.” Musing out loud once your father had asked you to go with him. “They aren’t like us Dornish. Much more narrow-minded.”

Oberyn laughs, waving off your concerns. “Don’t be too concerned about it my dear.”

“They wouldn’t dare offend Prince Oberyn by refusing our presence.” Ellaria cooes while while brushing your (h/c) hair. She may not have been your real mother but she treated you the same she would her own children. She might as well have been your real mother. You never knew the woman who bore you. She had surrendered you to Oberyn the moment you were out of her womb. She hadn’t even wanted to name you. She wanted absolutely no ties to the daughter she had brought into the world. That was fine by you. You had your father and Ellaria as well as your other half-sisters. You couldn’t really miss a woman you had never met.

Still, you didn’t know why he would choose to bring you. You weren’t exactly a Dornish beauty like your sister Tyene but you weren’t homely like Obara. Like all the Sand Snakes (those who were old enough to hold a weapon) you were an exceptionally skilled fighter.

You shrug it off, not bothering to look too much into it and pack your bags for the trip. If your father wanted to go you would join him and Ellaria. You had never been to King’s Landing due to the resentment Oberyn still held against the Lannisters. And now they held power over the throne. Not the best news to hear. Especially when that was the family who allowed the murder of your Aunt Elia and her two young children. You can already foresee the trouble your passionate father would cause. After all these years he still desired justice for the slaughter of his sister. Understandable but a Lannister wedding wasn’t the exact place to bring up that topic. Your father wouldn’t have any allies in King’s Landing to back him up. It was not only a Lannister wedding but a Tyrell one as well. The Martells and Tyrells hadn’t been on good terms since your father unhorsed Willas Tyrell, accidentally crippling him. They blamed him although Willas repeatedly stated that he didn’t blame Oberyn. You would still be surrounded by enemies. Well, not entirely. Oberyn might as well have brought all of Dorne by how many of his bannermen joined your party. It made you a little anxious that a fight might break out. The Dornish did have incredible tempers; you were no exception of course. You had as much control over your temper as any other Dornish did.

When you got near the city your father and Ellaria went ahead; you knew they probably wanted to stop by a brothel to have some fun. Oberyn trusted his bannermen to watch you and if not, you could fully protect yourself. You had killed before in self-defense and would do it again if need be. Obara had her spear, Nym had her whip, Tyene had her daggers and you had your battle axe. To many who saw it they wouldn’t believe someone your size was able to wield such an impressive weapon; the blades themselves being humongous. Those who saw you fight for the first time were quite shocked at how easily you handled the weapon and made it look light weight. Oberyn had said the most beautiful thing he had seen was you fighting with your axe. You made it look like you were dancing and your axe was your partner.

Arriving at the gates you were met by the small Lord Tyrion Lannister who inquired upon arrival which one of your bannermen was Prince Doran. You were the one to inform him that your father arrived earlier in his brother’s stead.

“You shall find my father perhaps in the best brothel this city has to offer.”

Tyrion’s heterochromatic eyes stare at you. “Father? Then you must be. . .”

“(y/n) Sand.” You swoop down from your stallion and curtsy. “Thank you for seeing us to the Red Keep as your honored guests.” You knew what he was thinking. Sand was the surname given to bastards born in Dorne. Still you put on your most pretty smile and tried to act like a court lady. One that happened to have an axe strapped to her back and calluses on her hands. A lady nonetheless.

“Not at all. Shall we get going? If it’s a brothel your father is at then Petyr Baelish’s establishment is our best bet.”

“By all means Lord Tyrion, lead the way.”


Sansa found companionship in Margaery Tyrell that she thought she would never find again in King’s Landing. She dared to even call Margaery her friend. The Tyrell girl was always sweet and kind to everyone around her and laughed very easily. Yet she was still set on marrying Joffrey despite all of Sansa’s warning of his cruelty and what he has done. She hoped with Ser Loras being in the King’s Guard that at least Margaery would be spared from any harm that Joffrey might inflict upon her.

“Where has your lord husband wandered off to?” Margaery asks out of politeness. Aware of the fact that her marriage to Tyrion Lannister was forced upon her. Tyrion proved to not be like the other members of his family. He had known cruelty from them as well. He was considerate towards Sansa and how she mourned for her mother and brother who were slaughtered at the hands of Walder Frey in what was known as the Red Wedding.

“He went to go greet the Dornish entourage.” Sansa informed her.

Margaery’s eyes flickered at the mention of Dornish, but she hid it with a smile. “That’s right. Joffrey invited them. Or rather his council did. I wonder what trouble they’ll cause.”

“Why would they cause trouble?”

Shooting her a look that let the Stark girl know that there was still much about this world she didn’t know about. “The Dornish have always been incredibly hot blooded. That and they have been known to hold a grudge. They still aren’t too happy about their princess being killed by the Mountain without any retribution.”

Loud clopping of horses made the girls stand and crane their necks to see who was entering the middle bailey. An elegant eyebrow arches as Margaery watches a young girl being helped off a horse and walk beside Tyrion Lannister. An axe slung on her small back, threatening to overpower her and knock her down to the ground. A mischievous smirk played on her face as she swings around revealing her face.

“Who is she?” Sansa asks, unable to tear her eyes away and unable to deny the light fluttering in her chest. She didn’t know what was going on; Sansa had never found herself attracted to someone her own gender, not even to the beautiful Margaery Tyrell. Yet there was something captivating and alluring about the newcomer. Maybe the way she walked, so confident with herself as she moved around men much bigger than her. Like she knew she could take any of them down with that axe of her’s.

Unbeknownst to Sansa, Margaery was having the very same thoughts run through her mind; but her’s teetered to being naughty. The soon to be Queen of Westeros wondered how soft her plump lips were and if she smelled of Dornish spices.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” She smiles and links her arm with Sansa’s. Sansa blushes and protested meekly but Margaery wasn’t hearing any of it.


“We have been on the road for quite some time. At least let them have a little time to unwind.” You tell Lord Tyrion as you oversee your luggage being transported to Maegor’s Holdfast. Your father had always taught you to travel light but you didn’t know what you would need in King’s Landing so you had packed a little more than you usually did.

The Lannister dwarf seemed insistent on retrieving your father and Ellaria. “It’s impertinent that he be here otherwise it would look like a slight toward the king.”

When he put it like that you nod. “Very well.”

He’s about to leave until two girls come into view. Tyrion halts and gives a brief bow. “Lady Sansa.”

“We came to see who you have brought.” A girl with lustrous, chestnut hair speaks up; her eyes sparkling as she regards you. Her auburn haired companion glanced at you but tried her best not to make eye contact with you.

You take it upon yourself to start the introductions. “(y/n) Sand. Daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell.”

“Welcome to King’s Landing. I am Margaery Tyrell, soon-to-be queen.” Her smile was dazzling as she approached you.

“Ah, Tyrell. Then I apologize on behalf of my father for what he did to your brother.”

Airly laughing, she waves it off. “Water under the bridge.”

“And this is. . . my wife. . . Sansa Stark.” Tyrion gestures toward the shy maid who kept her distance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Sansa. I didn’t know Lord Tyrion had such a beautiful wife. I’m sorry to hear about your family. Of course I suppose sorries don’t mean much.” You offer her a gentle smile in an attempt to make her feel more comfortable. You knew Westerosi often depicted the Dornish to be ill-tempered like the snakes that lurk in their deserts. From the looks of the poor girl it must have been her first time meeting someone from Dorne. Either that or she was simply just shy.

The prettiest eyes you had ever seen flutter up shyly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Clearing his throat you turn your attention back to Tyrion. You thank him and see him off with some of his men to fetch your father.

“Is this your first time in King’s Landing?” Margaery inquires sweetly and you don’t fail to notice how the front of her gown is cut to allow you a considerable peek at her generous breasts. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had found a woman incredibly sexy. Much like your father and his lover, you loved the touch of both men and women alike.

Swallowing to alleviate the lump that had formed in your throat you nod. “Yes. I can’t wait to explore all it has to offer.” Plus you wanted to know all of the exits of this city in case something bad were to occur and required you to make a quick getaway.

That seemed to perk her up. “Then allow us to give you a tour!”

Sansa’s eyes widen in surprise as she croaks “Wh-What?”

“It’s the least we could do to make her feel welcome.”

“If it’s not a problem then I would like that.” You smile. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have two beautiful girls escorting you around the city.

“No, forgive me. Of course we’ll show you around.” Sansa quickly says and offers you a meek smile. Despite her beauty there was a certain coldness to her looks. Like one would have to work hard for the honor of getting to truly know her. Perhaps it had to do with her being a northerner. Of course it could partly be due to what has happened to her. She’d lost most of her family by the hands of Lannisters and subjected to be the wife of one. You hoped the dwarf treated her right.

“You must be tired though from your travels.” Margaery chirps and links her arm with you, bringing you closer to her. You caught a whiff of her sweet perfume as she throws her hair over her shoulders. “Let’s go sit in the garden first and have some tea and cakes. Come on Sansa.”

She paused, regarding you queerly. “Do you really know how to use that?”


Pointing to your back you realize she’s talking about your axe. You grin. “Of course. All of Oberyn Martell’s daughters know how to wield weapons.” Proudly claiming even Margaery’s eyes glint with curiosity.

Sansa seems a bit skeptical. “That big thing? Isn’t it heavy?”

For a moment you unlink your arm from Margaery’s to pull your axe from your back. They were amazed by how easily you did so.

“May I hold it?” Margaery breathes in awe.

“Sure.” You put the shaft handle into her hands but the very minute you let go she struggles to hold it up, effort straining her pretty face. Sansa went to try herself; Margaery huffing in relief once it’s taken out of her hands. Even Sansa struggled to keep it lifted up. Seeing that they weren’t going to be wielding it any time soon you assist Sansa by taking it from her.

A little bit out of breath, Sansa smiles at you. “You must be very strong.”

Giggling you put your axe back where it had been slung. “A little. Like I said, all my sisters know how to fight. We’re called the Sand Snakes in Dorne.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“About eight that I know of. Possibly more.” You shrug.

“No brothers?” Margaery started to lead you and Sansa through the yard to where the gardens were while you looked around. The Red Keep wasn’t as big as you had thought it would be.

“None. My father has only ever sired girls, but he doesn’t care. We fight even better than most men.”

“You and my sister would get along.” Sansa whispers and looking at Margaery you could tell that she doesn’t talk about her sister much.

You smile at her. “You think so?”

It makes her chuckle. “Yes. Arya was learning how to sword fight before. . .” She clams up again and you know she was going to mention her father’s execution.

Margaery purses her lips and looks ahead.

“I think I would’ve like her too.” You quietly muse.

“I noticed that sweet looking Tyrell girl staring at you all through supper.” Ellaria grins, leaning against your bedpost.

“And I noticed you staring at Queen Cersei. I don’t think she would appreciate an invitation to your bed.” Countering with your own observation you let your hair loose and sigh in relief. You didn’t want to entertain the thought of Margaery in your bed. Margaery was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon. You shouldn’t be thinking of a high born lady like that.

“And the Stark girl. . . They’re enamored by you.”

You laugh. “That would be believable if it were Tyene. I think they’re just happy to have another girl their age around. Must be boring around here.”

She shakes her head and fiddles with your hair as she always does. “You’re too modest. Open your eyes (y/n). They’re attracted to you. Go have fun. Maybe you can entice them to a threesome.” Ellaria laughs and winks at you.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think so. At least not Sansa. She’s been through enough already.”

“What better way to comfort someone than with bodily pleasure?”

“If only everyone thought like you dear Ellaria.” You peck her cheek and saunter over to a small table to pour yourself a glass of wine. Ellaria smiles over at you before leaving your room to join Oberyn for the night. It’s not that you were opposed to starting something with Sansa or Margaery but you wanted something more than a fling. You were tired of those. You wanted a partner like Oberyn had Ellaria. You wanted something constant and neither of the girls could offer that to you. Sansa was married and Margaery was about to be wed to the King of Westeros.

Sipping your wine, not exactly as good as the wine made in Dorne, you gaze out at the sprawling buildings that made up the Red Keep and further out was the rest of King’s Landing. Everything seemed so calm now, but you had a gut feeling of a storm to come. You didn’t know when, but something bad was to happen. You downed the rest of your cups and grab your axe. Whenever nights proved to be sleepless the best thing you could do was train. There were a few guards who passed you, each looking at you oddly but you paid them no mind. Instead you find a secluded area to practice your moves without anyone bothering you. As long as you had your axe you weren’t afraid. You were a Sand Snake, daughter of the Red Viper.

“What’re you doing?”

You nearly scold yourself for being so jumpy and not being aware of your surroundings to notice her. Sansa was the last person you expected to be out so late at night. “I should ask you the same thing. It’s very late.”

Her fact tilts downwards to look at her fingers which twined themselves together. In the dark her skin looks even more pale like moonlight. “I went to the godswood to pray.”

“Ah. Do you often pray this late at night?”

Warily her eyes scan around as if worried that someone would be listening. You found her behavior a little strange but you supposed there might always be someone snooping around and eavesdropping in the Red Keep. You had heard about a certain eunuch who had little birds flying everywhere and whispering things back to him. “You didn’t say why you were out here.”

“I couldn’t sleep. Normally can’t in new surroundings. Thought I might as well hone my skills.” You nod toward your axe. Fatigue was settling into your muscles and you were finally feeling tired. With the blade head on the ground you use the shaft to lean against to keep yourself up.

Sansa takes a few more steps closer to you, her movement like a skittish animal. “Shall I get you something to help you sleep?”

You shake your head. “No thank you. I don’t want anything dulling my senses if I need to flee.”

“What would you have to flee from? You’re a guest. King Joffrey’s guest.”

“You never know. This life is always unpredictable. You could be a guest one minute, then the next an enemy.”

“Especially in King’s Landing.” Her tone is soft as she murmurs those words, almost as if she dared not even speak them in the first place. It belied how she truly felt and revealing far more about herself then she probably intended. She was vulnerable at that moment, being taken back to the time in her life where she learned the hard way that life wasn’t the pretty picture she had always painted in her mind. It was brutal and cold just like the land she had grown up in.

You run your tongue over your lips before proceeding. “Weren’t. . . Weren’t you engaged to Joffrey?”

“I was. But they deemed me unfit to be queen considering my father was. . . a-a traitor. Understandable of course. Can’t have a traitor’s daughter bearing the king’s heirs.” She didn’t seem too upset about it though. She spoke as though she was a little bit relieved over the fact that she was no longer to wed Joffrey. You wouldn’t want to marry him either if you were being honest. So far in the few moments you had been in his presence he seemed to be unfit to be king. A child so young shouldn’t even sit on the Iron Throne. They weren’t mentally grown yet to even comprehend the immense power they held. Not only that but Joffrey. . . You couldn’t quite point out what you didn’t like about him. It could be a variety of things. He was arrogant and pompous, but those weren’t it. You had met a lot of men like that, even your own father was a arrogant at times. There was something in those green eyes of his though, something you didn’t trust. They showed no warmth, no soul.

Picking up your axe you ask her “Shall we go inside? It’s getting a bit chilly out here. Maybe we can warm ourselves up with wine. I can give you a taste of Dornish wine.” Sansa hesitates at your invitation and you’re positive that she’ll decline until her head stiffly nods and she follows you to your room. You had left the fireplace going before you had left and your room was soothingly warm, thawing out your frozen fingers and kissing your ice tipped nose. You weren’t used to the cold. Not even the nights in Dorne were truly cold.

Pouring a bit of wine you and your father had brought along, you hand her a cup; her fingers brushing against your’s momentarily.

“You’re cold.” She comments.

Laughing you turn back around to pour yourself a glass. “I’m weak against the cold. In Dorne it’s always hot or warm. Suppose even this slight cold weather doesn’t bother you.”

It brings a smile to her face. “Yes. It gets much colder in the north to the point where we have to bundle ourselves in furs until we can only waddle around. That’s one thing I don’t really miss, the cold.” Her face is still, grave as she stares into the fire. “I was so happy to come here. . . I begged my father to let me come and to let me stay. . . I was a fool.”

“You were young and wanted to explore the world.”

“I was a stupid fool in love nonetheless.” She whispers. “I didn’t even want to see what a monster Joffrey is.”

That caught your complete attention, your cup paused in your hand in mid sip. “What?”

Realizing what she had said she tenses up. You wouldn’t let this go though. You knew it might be impolite to push further knowing you had just met her, but you needed to know the nature of the boy who had control over all the Seven Kingdoms.

Releasing a shaky breath her lips quiver when she turns her face toward you. Her voice is low and you have to lean in closer to hear her. “I warned Margaery of all the terrible things he’s done. He had my father executed when he promised he would show him mercy. He put his severed head on the gate and made me look at it. He had his men beat me because his mother said it was not kingly for him to strike me. He’s terrible. He had my Lady killed. . .”

The two of you stared at each other in silence as you let her words sink in. What could you possibly say after she had divulged all that information to you. Heart racing you look back at the fire, your wine completely forgotten as it lay limp in your hand.

“I’m sorry. . . I don’t know why I spilled that all on you so suddenly. . .”

“No. . . Don’t apologize. I’m glad you did. Thank you for trusting me at least that much.” Hesitantly you place your hand on top of her’s, uncertain if she would appreciate the contact or not. Sansa didn’t move her hand away so you took it as a good sign. “Sansa, I can get you out of here.”

“Margaery and Olenna Tyrell said the same thing but somehow Cersei found out and married me to Tyrion.”

“Well, they aren’t me.” You insist. “I can implore my father to help. He hates the Lannisters and I’m sure he would love to help you get out of here just to spite them.”

Somewhat suspicious she asks “Why do you want to help me?”

“Why not? I would help anyone in the same situation as you. I can’t very well leave you here knowing what that beast does to you.”

You weren’t aware of when the two of you had gotten so close to each other but you soon found your shoulder pressed against her’s as you whisper back and forth.

“There’s another trying to help me get out. . .”


Sansa shakes her head. “I can’t say. But he keeps promising that he’ll get me out soon. During the wedding when everyone is preoccupied.”

“You tell this person that if they require anything that I’ll help. I want to help too.”

When she gazes up at you there’s a beautiful light in her eyes; hope perhaps. Or something else you can’t quite place. There’s a moment of quiet again as you’re lost in her eyes and your chest squirms with warmth.

“Thank you (y/n).”

You dearly wanted to kiss her, to hold her; anything to keep her safe.


After Margaery and Sansa showed you around King’s Landing, Sansa retired to the godswood leaving you and Margaery alone to your own devices. You were tired yourself but Margaery kept pulling you along to gods know where.

“She’s very devout. Sansa I mean. She’s always in the godswood praying. Poor thing.” The Tyrell maid tells you. “She’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, she told me last night.”

There’s a shift in Margaery’s posture. “Last night?”

You nod. “I couldn’t sleep last night and she found me practicing outside. I invited her into my room for some wine and she told me what had happened with her father.”

“Was talking all you did? I have heard that Dornish do have incredible libidos and with wine in the equation. . .”

You blush immediately. “Y-Yes. We just talked! I-I would never take advantage of her, especially not in that state. . . I just wanted her to be comfortable around me. Besides, she’s a married woman.”

“But you think she’s pretty and you’re attracted to her.”

You didn’t know why you were getting so embarrassed. You’d never gotten embarrassed before. Stiffly you nod your head.

Her hand stops you from walking ahead as she holds you in place by your arm. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Anyone would.”

“Are you attracted to me too?”

Flustered you avert your eyes from her imploring face. You didn’t know if she was teasing you or what. All day you had heard that Margaery Tyrell was a pure, innocent, girl that would prove to be a wonderful queen. You were wondering now how innocent her thoughts truly were. Your father had always taught you to listen to your emotions and go through with them. Whether it be anger or sadness or lust, you shouldn’t try to ignore them. One should express them. Yet now you doubted yourself. You couldn’t very well express your overwhelming attraction for her. Sansa and Margaery were both off limits yet there you were undeniably lusting after them.

Then she giggles. “Relax (y/n)! It’s just the two of us. Anyway, you don’t seem like the type to take advantage of anyone. You and Sansa are sweet girls.”

“And you’re not?”

A glint in her eyes makes your legs wobble. “Do you want me to be?”

You groan and shake her head at her confusing words. “Now I know you’re just teasing me.”

Her laugh is like the tinkling of bells as she links her arm with your’s. “You can tease me too if you want, although it’s quite a daunting task. No one has been able to since I was a little girl.”

After what Sansa had told you you couldn’t comprehend why Margaery would still want to marry someone like Joffrey. Did she really care so much about being queen? You didn’t like thinking of Joffrey hurting her the same way he did Sansa.

“Why do you look so worried?” Her fingers delicately ghost over your creased brows. She had sat the two of you on a stone bench, away from prying eyes as her Tyrell guards blocked off the path to anyone. You vaguely recall the fear Sansa had when the two of you were talking out in the open. There were not only prying eyes but ears as well that could report back to the Queen Cersei and ruin someone’s life. You hoped your father and Ellaria were being careful but knowing them they probably didn’t care.

“It’s just. . . You know that Joffrey isn’t a good person. . . Sansa told me that she told you and your grandmother. Aren’t you afraid that he’ll hurt you too?”

She smiles at you. “You’re worried about me. But don’t be. I can take care of myself. I’m quite smart actually. I know how to make people do what I want.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’re manipulative.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but I suppose you can see it like that. One has to be in this environment otherwise you’ll lose the game. My grandmother is incredibly smart too. She can probably outwit anyone here.”

“Sharp as a thorn that one is.” You grin making her giggle once more.

“Oh yes, they don’t call her the Queen of Thorns for nothing!” Chirping sweetly she laces her fingers with your’s nonchalantly, as if it was completely normal for her to do so.

“You know, you never did answer my previous question.”

“Why do you want to know? Aren’t there enough people telling you how they’re in love with you?”

“None of them are you though.”

Cautiously you once again find yourself looking around to see if anyone was listening in. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Especially not here. If anyone were to hear, well, my fate might be the same one as that of Sansa’s father. I have no status that will protect me. I’m just Prince Oberyn’s bastard.”

Margaery purses her pretty lips and flicks her gaze away from you. “You’re not just a bastard. Don’t make that face, I’m serious.”

You shrug. “Well whatever I am it won’t save me from the King of Westeros. So please. . . Just let it go.” You had been able to admit that you were attracted to Sansa, but to say so about the future queen, that was another thing. Even worse was that the future queen seemed to have certain feelings for you too. Feelings she wanted to express out in the open. She wanted you to admit it as easily as you had when you spoke of Sansa. Even she must know of her status and what restrictions it held. Whatever she was feeling for you had to stop.

Moving to stand you feel Margaery’s hand slip from your’s. You didn’t want to look back at her, knowing that you might lose your resolve.

“You look upset.”

“I need a drink and I finished my reserve of wine.”

Oberyn beckons you closer where he and Ellaria lounge on his bed. Ellaria sits up, her dark eyes clouding with concern. “What happened?”

Despite the weather not being hot, your cheeks were unbearably warm. Your family was always so open about everything. If you told them about your attraction to both Stark and Tyrell girls then you knew Oberyn would suggest ravishing them both without reservations. Before you could even think of what to say a knock interrupts you. Oberyn raises an eyebrow quizzically before going to open it.

“Lady Margaery.”

You freeze.

“Hello Prince Oberyn. I was wondering if I could speak to your daughter. Alone perhaps.”

He glances over at you then to his lover and smirks. “Come my love. Let us leave these two.”

She returns the smile and looks at you with a sparkle in her eyes. “Of course.”

Mentally you beg them to come back, to not leave you alone with her but it’s useless as they’re already out the door. You fidget as she crosses the room toward you. Her hands abruptly grab at your face as she pulls you in for a kiss. Your mind goes completely blank as you fall into her kiss. For the first time in your life you were completely and utterly helpless.

Margaery nips lovingly at your bottom lip before slipping her tongue in to slide against your’s. Your fingers curl themselves into her soft chestnut hair. When the two of you part to breathe you knew you were flushing badly.

“The crown needs my family’s wealth. If anyone dares to threaten you I will get rid of them.”

Now you saw it, the reason why Joffrey happened to be attracted to her despite him having beaten his previous fiance, a girl of equal beauty. Margaery could be deadly when pushed to it. You should’ve known, she was the granddaughter of the Queen of Thorns.

You couldn’t even think of leaving King’s Landing now, not with Sansa and Margaery warming up to you. Things would be interesting, even if it might mean you were possibly committing treason.