“It’s been a long time,” Margaery said with a small smile, looking so beautiful and familiar that she took Sansa’s breath away. The gardens that they were meeting in, surrounded by greenery and blooming flowers, reminded Sansa of the gardens at the Red Keep so vividly that she could picture it in her mind perfectly, despite the many years since she’d been there. All those sunlit afternoons with Margaery had kept her sane, had made her happy when nothing else could-- Sansa hadn’t thought about her time in King’s Landing in a while, but now all the memories came rushing back.
“You look the same,” Sansa replied, breathless, finally stepping closer and taking one of Margaery’s hands in her own. It was true, Margaery looked just as she did in Sansa’s fondest memories-- her long hair was half pinned back and the rest fell in soft curls down her shoulders, her gown was low-cut and light green, adorned by Tyrell roses, and she looked as though she hadn’t aged a day.
It almost seemed too good to be true, that they could be reunited at all, after everything, here in Highgarden, alive and well. Sansa used to pray for this and now she wondered, fleetingly, if the Gods had been listening after all.
Margaery squeezed Sansa’s hand, then led her over to a table surrounded on three sides by flowering rose bushes. They both sat, inching their chairs close together, loathe to let go of their clasped hands.
“You look different,” Margaery said gently, then laughed softly. “You look older, like a woman now. Maybe it’s all the black, I always remembered you in softer colors.”
Sansa smiled back, her heart skipping a beat and a delicate blush rising to her cheeks. “I’ll need new gowns for my stay, actually. I grew used to the cold again, I don’t own anything suited for summer.”
“I thought that must be the case.” Margaery rose, still holding Sansa’s hand, and began to lead her through the gardens. She glanced over and their eyes met, and they both smiled.
“Where are we going?” Sansa asked, though she didn’t hesitate to follow Margaery.
“I had a few gowns made for you,” Margaery explained easily, leading them into the castle and down a few halls, until they reached the rooms where Sansa would be staying. Margaery gestured to the gowns laid out on the bed with a wide flourish. “You must already be hot in that heavy fabric, so you may as well change now.”
Sansa, speechless, finally let go of Margaery’s hand as she stepped closer to the bed, reaching out to touch the delicate silk of a pink gown with gold embroidery. She hadn’t worn anything this beautiful in years. Winterfell was slowly returning to its former glory, but even at the height of their power, they’d never been known for fashion. For years, Sansa had only been wearing gowns that she made herself, all black or grey, with furs and leathers to keep her warm in the biting cold; she wouldn’t even know where to obtain silk in the North if she tried.
“They’re lovely,” she whispered, turning back to find Margaery watching her with a tender look on her face. “Thank you.”
Margaery joined Sansa by the bedside, casually placing a hand on Sansa’s lower back.
“I think the pink will suit you nicely,” Margaery said with a smile, and Sansa nodded. “I’ll send a few handmaidens in to draw a bath for you and fix your hair. I imagine you must want to wash up after your long journey.”
“Of course,” Sansa agreed, though she was less than enthusiastic about leaving Margaery’s company for even an hour.
“Wonderful!” Margaery kissed Sansa’s cheek, summoning another blush. “I’ll come collect you for dinner.”
Awestruck, Sansa watched Margaery leave, her skin tingling where Margaery had kissed her. It had been so long since she’d been touched by someone like that, and even longer since she’d liked it. Other than rare, brief hugs with Arya and Jon-- and once, memorably, from Daenerys-- Sansa hadn’t been touched much at all since her ill-fated second marriage. But Margaery’s touch was sweet; it always had been.
All those years ago, Margaery had been the first one to touch Sansa, to really touch her, before any man had the chance to defile her. Sansa had wondered, on her journey South, if Margaery would want to do that again, and she smiled to herself now, since Margaery’s intent was rather clear. This is why Sansa had come to Highgarden, after all. Someone needed to come meet with the Tyrells to formalize their allegiance to House Stark, but everyone had been surprised when Sansa volunteered for the task. She wasn’t really here for politics; no, she was here for Margaery.
After a moment, the handmaidens came to assist her, and in no time at all, she was dressed and ready. Sansa used to take this all for granted, all the pretty dresses and jewelry and handmaidens to style her hair for her, but she was certainly grateful for it now. She felt more beautiful than she had in years, her hair done up like Margaery’s, her dress pastel and flowing, perfect for the Southern warmth. It was delicate, but much more modest than Margaery’s gown, and Sansa loved it.
She looked at herself in the mirror, assessing the curl of her hair and the sparkle of gold at her neck, the fall of pink silk over her shoulders, intricate flowers embroidered at her waist, and the golden direwolf sewn right at her left collarbone. It was a lovely touch and it made Sansa want to kiss Margaery all the more. Just as she turned away from the mirror, Margaery herself stepped into the room, drawing up short when she saw Sansa.
“You look lovely,” Margaery said immediately, her gaze on Sansa making her feel hot all over. Margaery closed the door behind her and met Sansa in the middle of the room, drawing her into a soft embrace that Sansa melted into, her arms coming around Margaery to hold her.
“I’ve missed this,” Sansa whispered into Margaery’s sweet smelling hair. “Not just the weather and the gowns; I’ve missed you.”
“I feel the same,” Margaery whispered back, pulling away just enough to look Sansa in the eye. “I’ve dreamt of our reunion often.”
Feeling bold, Sansa raised a hand to cup Margaery’s cheek. “As have I.”
Without another word, Margaery leaned up and Sansa leaned down to meet her, their lips meeting softly. Sansa melted into the gentle kiss, making a soft sound into Margaery’s mouth as their lips moved together. It was everything Sansa had been missing, all of the tenderness and care, the softness and sweetness that she’d only ever felt from Margaery. Margaery pulled her closer, her hands on Sansa’s waist, and there was nowhere else in the world that Sansa would rather be.
After a moment, Margaery pulled away and Sansa blinked her eyes open, a delicate blush on her cheeks as their eyes met and they both smiled.
“We’re supposed to be going down to dinner,” Margaery said, a hint of amusement in her voice. Sansa, trying not to feel too disappointed, nodded and started to pull away from Margaery’s embrace, but then Margaery continued, “I think they’ll understand if we want a little time alone to catch up first, though, don’t you?”
“They won’t mind waiting?”
Margaery grinned and said, “They can eat without us for all I care. I don’t want to leave this room.”
Sansa didn’t know how to respond to that, helplessly charmed and enchanted by Margaery as always, so she acted on instinct and kissed her again. This time, it didn’t stay chaste for long. Margaery licked her way into Sansa’s mouth, her hands sliding into Sansa’s hair and tugging a little, and Sansa kissed back eagerly. She couldn’t keep her hands off Margaery either, already plucking at the strings of her dress, eager to see her lover naked after so long apart. When they had first done this, Sansa had blushed and fumbled the whole way through, but now she felt no shame in her desires, secure in the knowledge that Margaery wanted her too.
“All that time getting your hair done and dressed up pretty,” Margaery murmured, ducking down to press a biting kiss to Sansa’s neck, evoking a sharp gasp. “Just for me to make a mess of you…”
“Margaery,” Sansa whispered, breathless, and she felt Margaery’s smile against her skin. “On my journey South, I thought of little else but your touch.”
“Good,” Margaery whispered back, her deft fingers working on the laces of Sansa’s bodice. “It’s only fair, considering I’ve thought of you every night when I’ve lain in bed.”
Margaery succeeded in unlacing Sansa’s gown, and with one gentle push of it off her shoulders, it hit the floor. Before Sansa could feel self-conscious, naked with another person for the first time since Ramsay, Margaery was kissing her again. With their combined efforts, Margaery’s gown was quick to join Sansa’s on the floor. Feeling Margaery’s naked body pressed against her own was even better than Sansa remembered it-- Margaery was soft and warm and beautiful. Sansa’s hands traveled over the dip of Margaery’s waist, only hesitating for a second before cupping her breasts, encouraged by the quiet sounds Margaery was making.
Slowly, Margaery pulled away, then grabbed Sansa by the hand and led her over to the bed. Sansa went easily, carefully pushing the delicate gowns aside, and before she knew it, she was on her back with Margaery on top of her. In the glow of the evening sun, Margaery was golden, an ethereal vision smiling down at Sansa and encouraging her to spread her thighs with gentle hands.
“Is this what you want?” Margaery asked quietly, then ducked down to lick at one of Sansa’s nipples, pinching the other between her fingers, and Sansa moaned loudly.
“Yes, please, I want you,” Sansa breathed out, almost dizzy with desire. She was so focused on Margaery’s mouth licking and sucking at her breasts, she moaned in both pleasure and surprise when she suddenly felt a hand between her legs.
“Mm, I can feel how much you want me,” Margaery murmured, easily sliding a finger inside her. “You’re so wet, Sansa.”
Sansa couldn’t help but squirm a little, hips shifting up to meet Margaery’s hand, desperate for more. “Please.”
“Anything for you, dear girl,” Margaery said with a smile. She slid a second finger inside Sansa, who spread her legs even farther, moaning shamelessly. Margaery finally started moving her fingers, fucking Sansa slowly, but before she could beg for more, Margaery slid down the bed. She moved her hair over her shoulders, fingers not faltering for a second, then looked up and met Sansa’s eyes with a smirk, before closing her eyes, leaning in, and licking Sansa’s wet cunt.
“Ah,” Sansa moaned loudly, one hand in Margaery’s silky hair and the other grasping at the sheets. It was so much, almost too much, being fucked by Margaery’s fingers while her tongue licked at her. It was overwhelming in the best way; Sansa was sweating, her thighs were shaking, and she couldn’t think straight. She felt so good, better than she could ever make herself feel when she attempted to touch herself-- “Oh, yes, Margaery!”
Margaery kept at it, licking around her fingers and sucking on Sansa’s clit, picking up the pace and finally fucking her hard and fast. Sansa lost all concept of time, her world narrowed down to Margaery’s mouth and fingers, but it didn’t feel like long at all before she felt the pressure inside her building. She cried out as she came hard, head thrown back and clenching around Margaery’s fingers, making a wet mess of her and not caring one bit.
“I really missed that,” Margaery said after a moment, shifting back a little but leaving her fingers inside Sansa. Her beautiful face was flushed, her hair was a mess, and her mouth was wet with Sansa’s juices. She’d never looked more gorgeous and Sansa wanted to say so, but she was out of breath.
After a moment, Margaery started moving her fingers again, and Sansa made a soft noise.
“You can come again,” Margaery said softly, adding a third finger that slipped inside her so easily, making Sansa feel full in the best way. “I won’t stop until you do.”
Sansa, still breathless and overwhelmed, could only whisper, “Margaery.”
“I know, darling,” Margaery replied, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
Margaery leaned down again, focused entirely on Sansa’s clit this time. Her fingers fucked into her deep, stroking inside her and evoking a toe-curling feeling, while she sucked at Sansa’s clit. Though she had just come, Sansa could already feel it building again, and she couldn’t help the breathy moans she made with every thrust of Margaery’s fingers. She could feel herself dripping wet, soaking Margaery and the sheets beneath her.
It was so loud in the room, with Sansa’s moans and Margaery groaning against her cunt, the slick sounds of Margaery’s mouth and fingers, the creaking of the bed as Sansa rocked her hips up to meet Margaery. It all came to a crescendo as Margaery thrust hard and Sansa made a sound almost like a yell, coming even harder than before, gushing wetness and making an even bigger mess.
This time, Margaery removed her fingers slowly and shifted up the bed, pressing a wet kiss to Sansa’s cheek as she laid down next to her. Sansa couldn’t quite make a coherent thought yet, but she felt herself curl up against Margaery’s side, her breath finally evening out and her heart slowing down. She felt completely boneless, a bit tingly, and very, very wet between her legs. Every time she shifted, she could feel the slickness between her thighs.
“Are you alright?” Margaery asked softly, running a gentle hand through Sansa’s hair. “I hope I haven’t killed you.”
Sansa laughed quietly, feeling a surge of warm affection rising up in her chest. “I’ve never felt quite this good in my life.”
“Stay a while,” Margaery replied, then kissed the top of Sansa’s head. “Stay as long as long as you like and you can have this every day.”
“What if I never want to leave?”
Though Sansa couldn’t see her face, she was sure Margaery was smiling when she replied, “Then stay forever.”