The Golden Stag

ARC 2: strings

MARGEARY TYRELL.
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Sansa Stark had accepted her invitaion to go to the tourney together. The girl was dressed beautifully in grayish blue velvet and silks, her aburn hair combed till it shone, her little wolf was no longer little, Margaery was sure it could bite someone's throat out if anyone came to it's ire, so she kept the red dragon close, it was growing bigger, faster than the direwolf and no doubt, the wolf was scared of the scaly winged creature that nearly reached her waist now.

Margaery had been blissful, the anticipation of being intimate with Joffrey didn't seem to want to die even after week of being fucked amd senseless, She still felt like he was stretching her open, biting her, kissing her, eating her. She shivered at the thought.

When he had first slept with her, she had realized that he was experienced, he was not like her who had read books and watched women pleasure men in oleasure houses with guards by her side that her grandmother arranged so that she would know how to use her body properly. No, watching only got you so far, and Joffrey was too experienced, he had done it and it soured her to her core. He was fluid with his ways, knew just what to to and how to do it and he pleasured her always and did not leave her wanting ever.

She wanted to know who she was, who the girl whs that Joffrey had been with before her. He said he wouldn't be unfaithful and she recalled having asked him if he had been with a whore or a lady but he had denied it but could she believe it when he was so good.

She sighed and decided to not think of it anymore. She realized she was losing herself in the niceties, in the revelry of his love. Even now, when he'd say he was tired or he was busy so he couldn't make time for her at night, she felt glum and sad. Nights without him inside her felt like nights without moon, this was not good. If Joffery wanted a whore, he would have gotten it. He had made it clear that he was a driven man, he had goals and she was the queen he chose for himself. If she faltered and got lost, he would leave her behind.  That she couldn't allow.

She had taken to claiming his bed, she slept with him often, he was a spooner and she loved it when his big palms cupped her. Many a days she would lay there and watch as he would sit at his table and do what he does, study and write and think and read books. He was dilligent too.

But she had come to know that he was dangerous, at moments, this facade he had built for everyone to see would vanish when he thought he was alone or she wasn't paying attention. At nights in the dark he would talk to his dragon who perched in the room as though it was his most faithful companion. She would pretend to be asleep and listen. She had once heard Joffrey talk about Jon Arryn's death, how Jon Arryn was aware if his illegitimacy and someone wanted the secret kept.

Margaery had been terrified that night, by her side was the boy who soundly denied Stannis's claims of his illegitimacy in front of all the court but here he was speaking how he wasn't the rightful king.

Joffrey was certain the man was poisoned, he talked to the dragon about who the culprit could be.

Margaery wondered if his father was Ser Fox, it seemed likely. He always spoke so highly of Joffrey

Other moments, he would make jokes and japes, but in those words was a steel that was ready to cut. She had thoughts of her own.

Everyone said Stannis was the culprit, he tried to slay his kin and usurp the throne but Margaery wondered, would Joffrey discover his gifts, this strange sorcery of his, right at that moment, right when he needed it most?

Then he was just a prince who had shown no interest in magic, that is what everyone believed but she had chosen to not discount the possibility that he was aware.

What if he had known he could heal, what if he was able to make those shadows himself like the shadowbinder was? Everyone accepted that the tourney at his nameday was a spectacle he designed to expose Stannis but she wondered differently.