Game of Thrones 1. Chapter 1

This story will be GoT centered, up to current episodes (epiosdes 4x03-4x04). **Do not read if you are not caught up, this is your one and only spoiler warning.** In the books, Tommen is far too young and innocent, playing with his kittens, to think about sex. However, I think the television series version of him would be a quite interesting dynamic with the gorgeous Natalie Dormer's portrayal of Margaery Tyrell.

Enjoy.

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The wedding was not quite up to the standard of his brother's, but King Tommen I Baratheon did not seem to mind despite the troubles upon his young mind.

It was unsurprising given the recent circumstances of Joffrey's death. His uncle Tyrion remained imprisoned even now for the crime, something Tommen was sad for. Tyrion had always treated him well, but his mother Cersei could not be dissuaded of his guilt.

Tommen did not share her certainty, but it was far beyond him to challenge the authority he had known all his young life.

The gloomy thoughts of his uncle were quenched by the luxuries about him. As a prince Tommen had always enjoyed rich foods, but those before him surpassed even those. There were dishes beyond count; capons, huge hogs with apples in their mouths seared to a crisp, masses of potatoes, turnips, succulent trout from the embattled Riverlands; even some fiery dishes of Dorne brought along by their recent envoys.

The last made Tommen think a little of his sister Myrcella, sent down to Dorne herself not long ago. It made him sad; Joffrey may have been a cruel brother but Myrcella had been a wonderful sister, and he missed her.

The atmosphere of the wedding was infectious, bringing Tommen easily out of these dark thoughts. Fools bobbed about the scene, moving around on stilts, eating frogs and burping feathers. Musicians played one after the other for his favour, a heady variety of songs from the gloomy "Rains of Castamere" to the boisterous "A Bear and the Maiden Fair".

The meal was done however, and the scene had grown a little more relaxed. Dishes of food remained on the tables, but most appetites had been sated. Some eyes were drooping while others stifled obvious yawns.

Tommen remained nervous as to what was next. The source of his nervousness touched a delicate white hand to his arm, a deft, lingering touch that made him jump.

He looked next to him and saw a vision of female beauty. Margaery Tyrell was cloaked in the Baratheon colours that he himself had placed on her, the black and gold with its prancing stag. Beneath it she wore a gorgeous confection of white Myrish lace, her hair in an elaborately artful array on her head. Tommen was glad to see she had changed both her outfit and her hairstyle from the ill-fated wedding of his brother, but it was no less alluring for that.

Even with the significant age discrepancy between them, Tommen had become quite enamored with the lovely Tyrell. Previously it had been from afar; Margaery was to be Queen to his brother Joffrey, and it was not in Tommen to be ambitious. Now it was his duty to marry Margaery, and more and more he found himself excited by the prospect.

Tommen looked to her with the green eyes of the Lannisters, a slight flush colouring his cheeks, embarrassed that he had so visibly displayed his anxiety. Margaery did not seem to mind though, instead smiling knowingly before leaning in closer to share a word over the din to her new husband.

Margaery's elaborate dress bore the tops of her small breasts, and Tommen could not help but appreciate the presentation. Then he coloured again, as he knew she had seen his fixed gaze, but Margaery's smile had only widened. Tommen was glad that she was so accepting to his faults.

"I think our guests are almost done, my King," Margaery said. "We should retire and let them be."

Tommen felt his apprehension grow. He knew what was next; his grandfather had discussed it with him all too recently. The process had all sounded so…strange, alien and unfamiliar. Tommen was not sure he wanted any part of it, but Tywin Lannister had insisted.

"The marriage must be consummated," the Hand had said, his fierce, autocratic features studying his grandson. "Otherwise it can be too easily set aside. The realm needs this, and you told me yourself you wanted to be a good king. A good king must sometimes do things he is not comfortable with."

Tywin Lannister was in the audience of course, also seated at the high table. His grandfather scared Tommen, but there was no denying the power or the wisdom behind his words.

Next to Tywin was his daughter, the former Queen Cersei, Tommen's mother. Others had judged Cersei a beautiful woman in her own right, possessing all the common blonde good looks often favoured to the Lannisters. Despite the loveliness of her own garments and the joyful setting, Cersei's face was rigid, her eyes darting this way and that. During the meal her eyes had met Tommen's and seemed to water, then grown harder whenever she looked past him to Margaery.

Tommen did not understand why she would be this way, as he watched her regard his Uncle Jaime, who prowled the edges of the feast in his white Kingsguard armor.

King Tommen I Baratheon smiled at his new wife, and then turned toward his mother. "Mother, I think it is time for us to go."

Cersei's reaction flickered. Her features grew still, as if they were the words she had dreaded to hear. She studied her son searchingly.

"Very well." Tommen's mother abruptly clapped her hands together and stood. "My lords and ladies, it is time for the King and Queen to retire. His Grace would like to thank you for your attendance to this important event in the history of Westeros."

Ever correct, Lord Tywin rose to his feet beside her, as did every member of the high table. The diners on the lower tables did the same to bid farewell to the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tommen remembered what his mother had taught him. He stood from his seat, clad in a handsome velvet doublet. He lifted Margaery's hand to bid her to rise, which the Tyrell girl did while smiling radiantly. Slowly Tommen led his new bride off the dais from behind, but there they came to a sudden stop. The king looked curiously as to why and saw his mother's arm upon Margaery's, saying something that he could not hear. The grip seemed far too strong for the circumstances, but Margaery's expression did not flicker, though Cersei's was dark.

Then Margaery continued upon her way out. All eyes were on king and queen alike as they walked beneath the imperious eyes of Lord Tywin and the rest in attendance down the center aisle.

Earlier Margaery had shared a special confession with Tommen. "The bedding ceremony is so primitive, wouldn't you say," she had said in a garden meeting between the two betrothed. "I would greatly appreciate if my King could find it in him to suggest avoiding it this time. You would find me very grateful." Ever obliging, Tommen had accepted.

Together they walked to the Royal Chambers of the Red Keep, where a pair of servants stood waiting outside the doors. Tommen felt a flutter within him at the promise of that within.

Margaery Tyrell was well pleased as she walked beside her new husband.

The twice-widowed and newfound Queen had endured her own share of turmoil. Her first husband had, as she had confessed to her grandmother, preferred the company of men; the second had been a cruel and sadistic tyrant.

Now at last she would be Queen, fulfilling one of her own greatest desires to the joy of her House. As far as being with a King would go, Tommen was much more biddable than his malevolent brother.

She had tested the waters already with her new betrothed and taken some measure of the teenager. He had been very easily convinced to avoid the bedding, something Margaery had already experienced once in her marriage to Renly. It was true that Margaery did not particularly enjoy being unclad by drunk, grasping dinner guests, but she would have paid the price gladly to achieve her longtime goal.

Tommen would be an easily influenced king, but even so Margaery felt a sense of sympathy for the young man. Despite being a pawn in the Game of Thrones he was a good-hearted teenager, in so many ways the opposite of his brother. Beneath all the politics was a genuine sense of affection.

She had always wanted to be a queen. Instead of a husband who was more interested in her brother or who tortured for sadistic pleasure, now she had one whose sole fault was that he was younger. It was a comparatively small price to pay.

Margaery knew how to play the game well by now. Tommen had fallen for her; instead of having to feign interest in horrific activities, she had simply given him sultry looks and knowing glances, all under the guise of playfulness. Her natural beauty had no doubt contributed as well, and no small measure of reliance on the Tyrell alliance by House Lannister.

"My King, Queen," said a thin, ever-obliging servant man beside the double doors. "The bed has been prepared, and you will find numerous refreshments inside. Is there anything else you might need tonight?"

Margaery threw a playful smirk over to her new husband. "Oh I think we'll be just fine."

Tommen coloured again. He did it so easily, but Margaery found it endearing in a strange way. Many knew how to lie all too well…it was refreshing to meet someone otherwise. "Yes, please be sure no one enters unannounced."

"Of course. If your Graces find you require anything, you need only ask." The two servants each pulled open a side of the door, and Margaery's hand remained inside Tommen's arm as they passed the threshold.

Her husband was trembling slightly, Margaery noted, as the doors closed behind them.

Ahead was a bed that was huge almost to the point of absurdity. It was canopied with four large posters, a large view of Blackwater Bay available from a curtained window. On the bed lay a collection of rose petals, a gentle light emitted from a pair of lanterns set on either side. There was a smell of flowers wafting through the air as well, a scent that Margaery was all too familiar with.

"My King." Margaery released Tommen's offered arm and turned to stare him full in the face. The teenaged boy returned the look nervously.

"I…" Tommen could not seem to find the words at first. "My grandfather has commanded me to…ummm…"

Margaery put a single finger on his lips to silence him, and the way she did so included no small element of sensuality. "I know what he has told you to do Tommen. But you've never been with a woman before, have you?"

Tommen nodded as Margaery removed her finger. "I've been told what to do, but I've never…is this what other people do? Is this what you want?"

The king was babbling in his nervousness. Margaery knew that she would have to do as she did with many; she would have to take the lead.

"This isn't about anyone else, Tommen," Margaery said quietly. She took his hand and raised it to her own. "It's about us, and I want this. Do you?"

Tommen still looked unsure even as she kissed his hand lovingly. "I'm not sure…"

"The first time is always scary," Margaery said softly. She knew there were listening ears and that her virginity had been a contentious topic, but it wasn't as if she had admitted otherwise. This consummation was as important to her as it was to Tywin Lannister; it was her long-awaited opportunity to be queen.

She took it slow, knowing it was what he wanted. "We won't do anything you don't want to. But I want to try something if you will let me."

Margaery gave the King of the Seven Kingdoms her most teasingly sultry stare, with all of her substantial beauty behind it.

Tommen didn't stand a chance.

"Of course," he said. "What is it…"

"I'll show you." Delicately, Margaery, led him to the bed, and then pushed him downwards. Still standing above, she took a single needle from her hair, unravelling the elegant array on her head. Rich brown locks fell around her head, shrouding her face and the eyes that sparkled. Eyes on his, she gave her head a shake so the curls rested naturally around her in a rich brown shroud.

Tommen's eyes widened. "Wow."

Margaery only smiled at that. She delicately removed the bridal cloak and threw it onto a more distant corner of the bed, then turned around, presenting the back of her Myrish lace gown to Tommen. She turned her head to the side to address him, feeling his stare along her back and even further below

"I'll need you to unlace me, my King."

Tommen lifted his hands to tug nervously, delicately on the back laces, trying to untie them and fumbling more often than not. Margaery waited patiently until she felt her gown loosen and his hands remove themselves. "Thank you."

Margaery turned back to Tommen, her gown hanging loosely from her front as she held it in place with her hands. The teenage King was watching her with wide but hungry eyes. He didn't know why yet, but his body subconsciously knew how to appreciate such beauty.

The soft brown eyes met Tommen's, and Margaery smiled knowingly. Then she let the hands fall from her front.

With them fell open the lovely wedding dress, baring Margaery Tyrell from the waist up.

Tommen had no standard of reference to compare the sight to. All he knew was how curious it was to see what women looked like beneath those dresses they all wore. He didn't know that Margaery Tyrell was a particularly lovely woman or that he was a particularly lucky lad to behold the sight of her nakedness. Though she was not well-endowed, her breasts were shapely and beauty enhanced by her delicate face above and slim feminine form below.

There was a strange feeling in Tommen as he felt his eyes travelling up and down Margaery's body, from the lovely hair and face to the exposed breasts and chest. His pants felt tighter about him by the moment.

Margaery let her own glance fall as well. Tommen felt a thrill as she looked down between his legs, where the outline of his manhood was growing in stature through his leggings.

"I'm sorry Margaery," Tommen said as she met his gaze upwards. "I-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Margaery smiled acceptingly at him. She gave another shake of her head so that her hair fell around her breasts more naturally.

Then, keeping her eyes on Tommen's, she slowly lowered herself, falling to her knees before the bed.

"Margaery?" Tommen asked curiously.

"Let me try this one thing...is that still okay?"

The King nodded. Margaery reached her delicate hands forward towards the taut leggings and slowly unlaced them. As she finished her task, her left hand lingered to give his manhood a squeeze through the cloth.

"Oh…" Tommen's innocence was palpable, and Margaery smiled at his reaction. "Is that good, my King?"

She drew the breeches open, and Tommen's cock was suddenly exposed to the air above, the teenager looking at him himself almost incredulously. He had never felt so hard before…

His eyes moved from his own upright penis to Margaery's face behind it. Margaery looked at her newest target, then met the eyes.

"Just this," Margaery promised.

Then she slid forward to give a kiss upon hot, tense flesh of Tommen's cock. The king moaned, looking down as if he could not believe the sensations were real. Margaery gave him another kiss, this time near the more bulbous head. She knew he was completely at her mercy now.

Her brown hair falling to frame her face, her eyes meeting his the whole way, Margaery bent her head over to Tommen's erect dick and slid it into her mouth.

This time the king moaned aloud. It was nothing like he had expected. He had never known such exquisite pleasure could even exist. To feel such suction, such warmth, on that place was such a unique and wonderful experience.

Margaery lingered where she was for a moment. Just the tip of Tommen's penis was in her mouth now, her eyes still cast upwards, watching his reactions. Then when she felt like he had recovered sufficiently, she began to slide more of his length into her mouth.

Tommen was still a young lad and his cock was probably slightly smaller than most Margaery had known. Above, the king met Margaery's eyes as she began to take more and more of his length into her mouth.

Margaery descended easily and comfortably, enjoying the feel of his hot flesh traversing between her lips. There wasn't much pubic hair to disturb her, with Tommen's relative youth. It was actually quite a nice length, Margaery noted, her mouth contorting as she sucked slowly along that length of phallus. She could take it all, and it made her feel full but not uncomfortable.

Eventually, Margaery began to slide off again, slowly, carefully, delicately. She gave the tip a lick as she departed and then she looked upwards to Tommen, keeping one hand on his length, stroking delicately, teasingly along it.

"How did that feel, my king?"

"…Good…" Tommen still felt her deft fingers along his length, his eyes looking into hers unceasingly. His eyes finally fell to Margaery's breasts.

Margaery saw the stare and brought herself forward. With Tommen's length between her two small globes, she began to pump him. The king relished the sensation of his hard cock on her warm, smooth, unblemished flesh.

"What did you like more, Tommen?" Margaery asked. "My mouth…or this?" She gave him another dutiful pump.

It was like choosing between whether a bunny or a kitten was more cute for Tommen; they were both so in their own way. But in between his rapture a single word tumbled out.

"…mmm…mmmm…mouth."

Margaery gave him that knowing, accepting smile. "As you wish. My king."

She leaned back again, and again let her hair fall forward. Then she leaned forward towards the erect cock and again took it into her mouth.

"Oh…Margaery…" Tommen said, and his body fell backwards onto the bed. Slowly, Margaery began to suck again along the length, pumping, teasing with tongue here and there. If Tommen had been more experienced he might have realized Margaery's skill was exceptionally uncommon for a virgin.

There was a strange twinge from Tommen's lower body. The pleasure felt so good, and he did not know what it meant. All he knew was that Margaery Tyrell was giving him the best experience of his young life, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

Margaery kept bobbing dutifully away. She began to perform every trick she knew, knowing the young king would not know the difference. Tommen was the lucky recipient of her dutiful ministrations, her beautiful pale face rising and falling on him.

The twinge grew stronger, even if Tommen still didn't understand it. Margaery was continuing her exquisite efforts, her tongue a wonderful hot caress sliding along this and that part of him. He really should have been thinking more, but there was only one simple thought; gods it felt so good. It was too much pleasure for a virginal young teenager on his first explorations of sex. The blowjob had only stretched for a short time, but Tommen felt the twinge again, the strongest yet, and then he cried out, utterly confused at his body's reaction.

Margaery had only a split second of warning. She felt the pulse of a vein of his cock beneath her tongue and then suddenly a mighty spurt of his seed was unleashed into her mouth. Despite the surprise, Margaery persevered. She kept her tongue licking, moving up and down the length as it pulsed again and again under her continuous ministrations.

It was more than she expected. Tommen had cried out, his teenage body writhing beneath her as she unceasingly stimulated him through his first orgasm. Margaery was all too happy to do so; all that mattered was his fountaining cock and the need to keep pleasuring it. There was no stopping her, and if anything her suction grew more fervent, making sure every bit of his load was spurted inside her hot, welcoming mouth.

Margaery gave out her first moan as Tommen convulsed, thrusting unknowingly into her increasingly filled mouth. Then the twinges were gone. Tommen suddenly felt that curious sensation of post-orgasmic bliss, even as she looked downwards towards Margaery.

The Tyrell girl's eyes were closed, her mouth popping off his spent dick with an expression of rapture. Tommen looked at her with concern. "Margaery. Are you all right?" He looked down to his deflating penis, which seemed dry. "It felt like I was shooting something…but…"

Margaery's eyes opened to meet his. She rose to stand above him, curiously silent, and Tommen spoke again. "Margaery?"

The Tyrell girl's mouth opened. It was filled with a strange creamy white substance that Tommen could not identify. "What…"

Margaery managed to speak, her tone strangely modified by her filled mouth. "This is…you…"

"Oh." Tommen coloured. "Is that what it looks like? I was told I needed to put it somewhere else…"

Margaery gave him a good eyeful of swirling her tongue around the sizeable load in her mouth. Then she swallowed lewdly and obviously.

Her tones returned to usual. "You taste delicious, my King."

Tommen looked confused. "Really?"

"Of course." She looked down at his wilting cock. "Far better than any drink at the feast, I assure you." To prove herself, she leaned down and gave him another suck for good measure, lapping up any remaining liquid.

Eventually, Margaery lifted off and let herself fall onto the bed next to her Tommen. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth to make sure none of his residue remained there.

Tommen was still breathing heavily in the wondrous experience of orgasm. "So that…it goes into..."

It was true that Margaery had hoped that they were not done. She had not needed to expend much effort for Tommen's orgasm, and she was nowhere near accomplishing her own pleasure. So Margaery kissed the king on the lips again, delicately, and rose again.

"I'll show you where it goes, Tommen." Margaery let the Myrish gown fall from her completely, placing one hand and the other on each hip to slide it off her. Tommen was made aware of the curve of Margaery's hip and leg, and the mound vibrant dark hair that grew between her legs. She stood before him confidently, now as naked as her name day, looking deeply into his eyes.

Slowly, Margaery lifted one leg and then the other from the pool of costly cloth on the floor. Then she lowered one hand between her legs. It traced carefully through the curl of brown hairs on her mound, then into herself, working.

Margaery was surprised at how wet she was. Tommen was nowhere near her most experienced or endowed lover. But there was remained that definitive earnestness of him, and she felt a burgeoning desire to make this young man's first night with a woman the best it could be.

"Where is it?" Tommen was confused. "I don't see where I should go… I was told my…you know…would have to go…"

"In here." Margaery threw her legs over Tommen's bare ones, straddling the teenage boy on the bed. She leaned back, displaying impressive flexibility, and exposed herself for Tommen to see. The young king looked down to see Margaery's spread pink petals, exposed by her own fingers. It was a strange and unfamiliar sight, but it was endearing. The heat of her body and that sight was causing his cock to stir again.

Margaery felt it too. "Oh, my king is not done." She smiled yet again at him, moving backwards along his legs to reach a hand once more on his hardening cock. "We'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

Under her deft touch, Tommen was soon hard again. Margaery knew that the young king was completely at her mercy now, more than ever. However, this time at least, their interests met.

Slowly, she drew his now hard cock upwards. Margaery lifted herself above the erect penis and looked at Tommen carefully.

"This is where it goes, Tommen. This is where you belong."

Then she let herself fall onto his cock, letting gravity do its work for them.

Margaery felt herself finally reach some measure of her own sexual stimulation. Tommen's cock was buried to the hilt inside her willing, waiting pussy, and she began to accustom herself to this newest intruder. Below, the teenager was moaning. "I never knew…it could feel so good," Tommen confessed. "You feel so wet down there, and so tight. Oh…Margaery…"

The newfound Queen let herself adjust to Tommen for a while. "Does that feel good?" Margaery cooed. "This is what you were told to do right? To put yourself in here…"

"Yes." Tommen looked abashed.

"Did you know it could feel like this?"

"No." Tommen seemed unable to string numerous words together, his expression curious, analyzing the glorious sensations of the first vagina he had ever been inside.

"If you put your seed in here," Margaery explained patiently, giving him a little squeeze around him to reinforce her point. "We can make a baby together."

"Oh." It was an answer to one of life's key questions for Tommen. "Should we do that?"

"It's up to you, my king." Margaery smiled radiantly, and his eyes lingered up the details of her beautiful female form, displayed gloriously above.

Slowly, Margaery began to lift herself off of his cock, and Tommen felt himself feel a curious sense of loss at being deprived of that velvety, wondrous sheath. Then she fell again on him, and he felt his cock surge in rapture. Margaery had eyes only for his reaction and she began to ride him over and over in increasing tempo.

It continued that way for some time. Margaery's leg muscles worked continuously, driving her weight up and down onto his cock. Her small breasts jiggled with each shuddering sheathing, her mouth opening in an "o" expression. For once she did not look perfectly kempt, her hair evolving into of disarray at her fervent efforts.

Tommen watched himself disappearing inside Margaery over and over, the feeling absolutely sensational. Distantly, Margaery had some curious thoughts for the boy's stamina; the first orgasm may have been quick, but at least Tommen had recovered quickly, and now she was getting quite a workout. Her own orgasm was approaching as her tight, gripping pussy was penetrated again and again.

The familiar twinge suddenly returned to Tommen. "Margaery, I'm about to…"

Margaery did not stop her efforts, continuing in her same pace she had slowly increased to. "It's up to you, my king. You are mine, and I am yours."

"I…" Tommen didn't know what to do. Maybe he should be safe and finish outside her. But this was a small thought, one buried in the corner of a teenage mind. Above, a breathtakingly lovely woman drove herself upon him, willing to accept him and his seed inside a place that felt so warm, so inviting.

The teenage king moaned, his thoughts a confused mess, his body surging. Margaery began to increase her pace as best she could, their flesh slapping loudly, her legs working, her hair shaking, brown hair tumbling, eyes open and looking into his. Tommen looked up at his beautiful wife and queen, and suddenly, he felt the strong twinge again. "Ugggh," was all he could cry at first, and then his cock began to pulse its second load of the night into that velvety sheath that surrounded it.

Margaery could feel these first, powerful spurts of his seed inside her, a lewd and delightful sensation. She had never allowed this to happen before, but now at last she could welcome it. The Tyrell girl's own climax emerged at the feeling of his squirting cock within her, unleashing her shrill, uncharacteristically uncontrolled scream. She rocked on him as she did, squeezing herself on his length, milking him for all he was worth. Tommen was worth quite a bit; Margaery could feel a hazy warmth growing within her, the burgeoning fill of his load settling inside her grasping pussy.

For his part, Tommen studied where their bodies met curiously. At first, there was only limited evidence of his climax. His dick convulsed visibly but the results were not so easily seen as Margaery Tyrell continued to drive herself on him. However, he could feel himself straining again and again, and knew that this had been, if anything, more powerful than his first orgasm.

As the experience drew on towards its inevitable conclusion, Tommen laid on his back, looking upwards at Margaery. The Tyrell girl was breathing heavily, her hair in disarray from her exertions, but she gave Tommen a weary smile. She too looked down to where they were still joined.

There, small strands of white seed had begun to leak out of her pussy around the seal of his cock. Together they studied the sight of her impregnation for a moment, then their eyes met again and Margaery let herself fall forward onto him, to kiss Tommen.

"How did that feel, my King?" Margaery asked, tracing her fingers on his hairless chest, smiling with genuine contentedness.

"Better than anything I've ever felt." Tommen looked down at her with exhausted gratitude. "Thank you, Margaery."

"No need for thanks, my King." Margaery gave him a final smile. "Together, we will rule these Seven Kingdoms well."

Tommen only nodded. The power of his double orgasm was exacting its cost; the young teenager was already descending into sleep. Margaery watched him do so from above, stroking at his chest still, exulting still in the feel of his warm seed that now resided deep within inside her.

Despite the efforts of Tommen's mother, Margaery Tyrell was triumphant.

At long last, she was a queen.


	2. Chapter 2

So I could say I decided to write a bit more on this particular story after all, but if truth be told it has been around for a while. One can place the blame on the current Game of Thrones season for...stimulating interest.

That said, my interest in fanfiction is flagging as I turn to more mainstream writing...so enjoy this tale while it lasts..

I warn you now that the parts which follow are not as complete or as streamlined as the first, particularly in the ending of this part. Even so, I still hope people can find enjoyment in my writings...better a touch incomplete than leaving them unread on my computer...I hope.

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Cersei Lannister was almost in tears, but it would not do to show it.

Years at court and its politics had taught her how to shield her emotions from outward eyes. Instead Cersei kept her face in a rigid mask as she studied the wedding of her son King Tommen I Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell before her with fury. They should never have been here; Joffrey should still be their sovereign, her precious firstborn who had died horribly not long ago.

This was all Tyrion's fault. Her wretched dwarf of a brother had been trying to usurp her rightful power ever since he had returned to King's Landing with his barbarous mountain men. First he had somehow manipulated Father into being named Hand of the King and then dared to promise to turn her joy to ashes.

He had begun to make good on the vow by poisoning his own nephew Joffrey, something Cersei knew to be with an unshakeable certainty. She would do all she could to make sure of Tyrion paid for his role in the crime.

At least her wretched dwarf of a brother was out of the way now though, rotting in a dungeon awaiting his trial. Instead Cersei was plagued by the wretched Tyrell girl attempting to steal Tommen right from under her. Worse, she was succeeding, and even her own father would not be dissuaded from the marriage.

"The alliances with the South must be maintained," Tywin Lannister had said to inexorably override his daughter's protests. "This match is important to preserve our House's hold upon the Iron Throne. Margaery Tyrell is needed, not your maternal concerns."

So it came to pass that Cersei was powerless now but to watch as Tommen now lifted his beaming new bride upwards. Her last remaining son. so clearly ensnared by this ambitious little upstart of a girl.

Unable to wholly contain herself, Cersei grabbed hold of Margaery as the Tyrell girl passed by. As they turned away from the guests below her grip turned to iron.

"Do not touch my son, Margaery," Cersei said in a vicious undertone. "I will make you as sorry as you've ever been if you do."

Margaery did not deign to reply with words. Instead, ignoring Cersei's fury with a brilliant smile that infuriated the blonde further, she broke away to depart hand in arm with Tommen. The new queen seemed to have eyes only for the guests and not the mother who had just threatened her.

Cersei remained where she was, inwardly seething as she watched them both leave, with many of the guests regaling the King with meaningless congratulations as he passed. Then the double doors closed to block off sight of her son.

The queen regent sat afterward, permitting herself a long, steadying sip of wine. She knew was drinking more these days after Joffrey's death, but it seemed like something to help numb the traumas of her life.

There wasn't much need to stay any longer. The meal was over and now that Tommen and Margaery had departed many guests had chosen to rise themselves. The more she reflected upon it the more she felt she should do the same. To say Cersei had become sick of weddings such as these was an understatement.

Once more she stood as Lord Tywin's cold eyes followed her ascent beside her. "Father," she said stiffly in farewell before gathering her skirts and descending in a swirl of cloth.

There was one important matter to attend to before the return to her chambers.

She swept along, head held high with its golden locks snared by a jeweled piece. Her movements revealed how the wine had started to affect her and Cersei knew she was nowhere near as graceful as she should have been.

Her target was standing stiffly at one end of the room, watching the dinner guests in his immaculate white armor. There was something less perfect about his golden artificial hand though which gave him a unique appearance from his so-called brothers.

Lord Commander Jaime Lannister had been changed by his recent experiences, and not for the better, Cersei judged. He was older, greyer, slower, those same green eyes as hers filled with something new of late, less and less her twin by the day.

"Sister," Jaime greeted without emotion, the white cloak of the Kingsguard streaming easily behind him.

"Lord Commander. I have come to ensure my son is being kept safe."

Jaime didn't quite dare to roll his eyes given the setting, but Cersei knew he was sorely tempted. He considered her fears groundless, but this was not unfamiliar ground for them to tread.

"I've scheduled four men at all times Cersei, just like you asked."

"Four men _and you_. Depleted as you are, you are still my brother and therefore worth far more than fools like Ser Boros."

"You are being paranoid, Cersei." Jaime was daring to once more vex her with his useless arguments. "No one is going to harm Tommen."

"No one was supposed to harm Joffrey. Or Robert." Cersei leaned in closer, so that she knew that Jaime could smell the alcohol on her breath. "Or Aerys."

Jaime tensed at that, his eyes hardening. "Go to bed, Cersei. You've been drinking too much."

"I've drunk as much as I've needed to endure this wedding and that wretched Margaery. Tommen deserves far better than the likes of that strumpet."

"Careful, sister." Jaime looked behind her to make sure no one was listening. "It would not do for you to be overheard talking like this."

"I don't care. I only care for my son."

Jaime made eye contact with another white knight. "Ser Meryn."

The Kingsguard knight approached swiftly, ever the diligent lackey to higher powers. "Yes, Lord Commander?"

"Escort the Queen to her chambers," Jaime commanded.

"No." Cersei said the single syllable with all the authority she could muster.

Ser Meryn hesitated in confusion as Jaime looked to his twin. "Sister, you need to-"

"You will escort me yourself, Lord Commander." Their green eyes met.

Jaime's expression did not change but she could sense his uncertainty. Their relationship of late was…complicated, to say the least. "Ser Meryn, it seems I must escort the Queen myself. Ensure the Hand and the remaining guests are suitably protected."

"Yes, Lord Commander."

Jaime moved from his solitary position he had occupied and offered Cersei an arm. The queen regent ignored it, instead sweeping ahead towards her chambers. Behind her she heard the armoured footsteps behind as Jaime followed.

No further words passed between them until she reached the threshold of her quarters several uneventful minutes later. Jaime looked uncomfortable as he opened the doors ahead to usher her inside.

"Have a good night, sister."

Cersei looked back to him with cheeks flushed from the wine...and maybe something else. "I wish a private word with you, Lord Commander."

Jaime's uncomfortableness deepened in answer. He diligently looked left and right as he passed inside. His sister closed the door herself behind him and turned with both hands drawn behind her still upon the latch.

"What is it, Cersei?"

'You." The blonde Lannister studied her brother with gleaming green eyes. "I want you."

"Cersei, this is hardly the best time-"

"You took me in the sept." Cersei moved a step closer. "You have fathered all three of my children, and yet now is the time you choose to hesitate?"

"I…" Jaime seemed at a loss for words for a moment. His sister looked so beautiful standing there, even after so much time and all they had done together.

The queen regent was clad in a shimmering green velvet gown slashed daringly down to her ample bosom. Her lovely golden hair surrounded the hairpiece that shone in the dim lantern light of the room. The sleeves were long, dangling beneath her arms she held clasped before her.

Her eyes were what held him though, green and shining with purpose near those lovely cheekbones.

"Come now to me, brother," Cersei said. She drew a hand towards him, welcomingly.

"It isn't safe, Cersei." Jaime was trying to drive the sight of her beauty out of his mind and failing miserably. "Father is still close and there are always spies everywhere."

"Oh please." The former Queen made sound of exasperation. "Our enemies have claimed the truth of us so often that no one takes it seriously anymore. Those who do know better than to show it."

Suddenly she grew vulnerable even as her hand remained outstretched outward. It was a familiar sight to Jaime; only to her twin did his sister dare to show her wounds.

"Margaery has our boy, Jaime," she said, eyes watering. "Our last child left after Tyrion contrived to send Myrcella to Dorne."

"I know Cersei, but Margaery is a good match-"

Her vulnerability was gone in an instant at that. Cersei's eyes flashed and her inviting hand abruptly lowered. "Are you also so blind to what she is?"

"Cersei-"

"Margaery wants to supplant me and take our son from us, and even you want to let her." Cersei's emerald eyes became cold. "Leave me, Lord Commander."

Jaime hesitated. He didn't want to leave like this; his sister was obviously unstable due to a mix of personality and drink. She was roiling in her various emotions; fear for Tommen, anger at Margaery, sadness for Joffrey…

"Why are you still here, ser?" Cersei demanded. "I told you-"

Jamie swept forward in his knightly armour and brought his arms around Cersei. His hands found the small of her back, his mouth meeting hers to cut off her words. The queen regent might have resisted longer but the alcohol and the own flood of her own emotions wouldn't permit it. Her own arms snaked around Jaime's body, holding him securely, clinging to him beneath the white cloak.

Their mouths broke apart, breathless. Cersei looked to Jaime, cheeks as flushed as ever, and spoke.

"Make me forget about all this. Make me remember the good things still in this world."

Jaime couldn't resist any longer. His sister needed him, and he knew now that he still wanted her more than anything as well.

The Lord Commander drew Cersei over to the bedchamber and slammed shut the door behind them.

It turned out to be a rather frenetic and swift coupling, a scene crafted by mutually repressed desires. Soon Jaime's armour lay in a pile on the ground as he stood naked above the bed. His tall, masculine form remained corded with muscle even after his recent adventures, awaking powerful, carnal memories for the queen regent.

Below, with her lovely face framed by blonde locks, Cersei Lannister lay nude upon the rich red coverlets. Her legs were slightly open, just wide enough to be temptingly inviting, her green eyes peering upwards from Jaime's masculine form up to his face. Both had beheld the glories of the other's naked form many times now, but they did so with renewed hunger now.

Jaime descended in a haze of arousal, incapable of thought in such a context. There was little else to think of; now there was only him and Cersei. It had been that way for a long time, as each were comforted by thoughts of the other through difficult times.

Here at least, things could be simple.

Perhaps he could make it like the times before, when Cersei would rage against him until he finally succeeded in turning her blows to kisses. Despite this resistance, when he entered her and made her his yet again, she would cry out in rapture under his thrusts.

At least this had been the case when he was whole, and not bestowed with the laughable excuse for a hand the golden creation he now bore was.

Jaime Lannister had more than a few things to forget himself, not unlike his sister.

This was familiar, reminding him of the times before he had lost his hand, the days when he had been full of youth and confidence.

He felt a sense of elation and power at this feeling. His face turned resolute, strong, and bereft of hesitation. Gods be damned, a beautiful woman below lay waiting for him, the only one who had ever truly owned his heart. He wound a delicate pale finger through Cersei's hair as she regarded him above with a curious expression before she spoke softly with an aching need.

"I want you…"

Jaime dutifully fell atop her in reply, his body gently crushing her breasts. The yearning behind her words was apparent and he could not resist himself. He lined himself up and thrust inside Cersei in a single, sharp movement that drew exhales and moans from both of them.

"Yes…" Cersei said. Her eyes went distant, analyzing the sensations of his cock wonderfully filling her yet again. "You feel so good Jaime...that is where you have always belonged…"

Her brother replied by sliding out and back in with a gentle opening thrust. Her mound of golden curls clashed with his own in a contact of similarly coloured hair.

He established a slow but steady pace, thrusting inside her as he had done dozens of times before. Jaime's good hand emerged to stroke lovingly at Cersei's face and saw her own eyes were bright and sparkling. Their lips met each other as their bodies merged lewdly below in carnal bliss.

Jaime let himself explore Cersei's mouth for a moment in the kiss before letting his head descend. He took one of her pink nipple in his mouth and sucked even as he continued to thrust inside her. Cersei's hands snaked around Jaime's back in reply, drawing him forward into her and leaving red marks along his skin.

Eventually, Cersei began to rock back against his thrusts. "Jaime…" she said achingly, pleadingly. "I want you to be in me forever…I feel so whole…"

Jaime gave a particularly brutal thrust in reply, causing Cersei's words to trail off into a moan. He continued this missionary position for several minutes longer, dutifully ploughing into Cersei as the Queen Regent shuddered in pleasure. Then he suddenly felt the sensations he knew all too well.

He suddenly slowed his efforts. Cersei's eyes, which had been closed in rapture, suddenly flew open. "What's wrong?"

"I'm close." Slowly, Jaime drew out of her and drew forth his hand to pump along his own length in preparation. Cersei's eyes peered downwards at it with no shortage of excitement.

"Stay inside me, Jaime," Cersei said. She was breathing heavily, her ample bosom rising and falling.

"Cersei, it's too dangerous…"

"I don't care."

Cersei rolled her legs upwards to turn Jaime onto his back. Jaime's arms flew upwards to try to do the same to her but she latched on with all her strength, pushing them downwards temporarily.

Looking like some goddess, Cersei rose nude and lovely atop her brother and lover. Jaime, on his back, got a glorious view of the exquisite Queen Regent looming above. Her body was a marvel to see even after all this time.

Cersei's breasts bounced forward against the force of gravity, her lovely female form draped over him. Her two legs stretched to each side as she braced herself upon his prone form. The blonde woman's naked body shone in the low lamplight, amplifying the intensity of the experience, with her arms still lowered to hold Jaime in place.

Jaime struggled, but feebly. He knew he could have broken free of his sister's grip if he truly desired it but some part of him was struggling against him too. He couldn't seem to think and put up a fight against both her and the fierceness of his desires within him.

A part of him wanted this, but his voice spoke differently. "Cersei, we can't-"

"We can." Cersei peered downwards to his erect cock still glistening from its recent stay inside of her. Slowly, she lined herself up upon him anew and met his eyes with her own. "And we will."

Then she let herself fall upon him again.

Both cried out at that and Cersei felt filled again in the way she had wanted for so long. She smiled wickedly down at Jaime and reflected on the power of her position upon him which amplified the sensual effect.

"Cersei!" Jaime cried out as Cersei rocked upon him. "I can't...hold on…"

"Oh Jaime!" Cersei said, riding him as hard as any horse, sheathing herself again and again upon his length. "...so…good…"

Jaime grunted, losing control despite knowing the consequences. He tried every trick he knew to hold himself back but Cersei continued unabated. She was all too aware of how close he was, but she simply didn't care. The lovely blonde bounced upon Jaime again and again, her breasts shifting, crying out her pleasure as her once finely arrayed hair was sent into a tangle of blonde locks.

Jaime cast one more look at Cersei, eyes travelling up the slim form to the breasts and their painfully erect pink nipples. Then his eyes rose to her lovely features that met his stare. Green eyes met green and Jaime felt a surge inside his body at the eye contact.

His body was still fighting itself and its carnal desires even as he tried to resist Cersei and what he knew she wanted. "...no…" His arms strained against hers weakly one last time and felt themselves locked in place.

He made one last attempt to draw himself out of Cersei. The blonde queen regent replied by forcing herself forwards and brutally sheathing herself once more on him. There seemed to be no escape, and some distant part of Jaime was pleased, excited and stimulated for the fact she wanted him so much.

"Cersei…no…"

"Yes…Jaime…" Cersei moaned. "Give me…all…of you…oh…yesssss…"

Jaime brought himself upwards in one last ditch attempt. He had hoped that it would limit the amount of penetration. Instead it brought him endearingly into her bouncing breasts and appealing form, and Cersei wrapped her arms around him, constricting him and locking herself even closer against him.

There was no more will to resist. No more strength to hold back the titanic pleasure that awaited. Jaime cried out one last time, uselessly.

Where their two bodies were lewdly merged, his cock began to surge. Hot jets of Jaime's seed began to spurt deeply inside Cersei's welcoming pussy. The blonde queen regent moaned as she felt the renewed fierceness of his ejaculation, savouring the sensations of warm liquid squirting up inside her.

Cersei's body contorted at the lewd experience, her voice crying out loudly as she shuddered in her own orgasm. At that, she began to constrict even tighter around Jaime as he continued to expel himself inside her. The former queen unrelentingly rode out her pleasure upon him, body shaking in rapture, her arms still wrapped firmly around her lover.

Jaime had no words but a deep, guttural groan. He could feel himself, despite all his efforts, firing more of his seed inside Cersei. There was absolutely no resistance from the Queen Regent, whose body had fallen forward after her own orgasm but her legs remained locked upon him.

Her mouth opened. "Yes brother," Cersei panted. "I want all you have to have to give. More..."

They were nearing the end now. Jaime could feel the moisture around his cock of their combined fluids where they were joined. Cersei was still rising and falling along him but without rhythm now, long hair askew, green eyes unfocused. It seemed more of an automatic maneuver than anything now.

At length she finally stopped. Both were panting, Cersei's arms still locking their bodies together. For a moment, she endured atop him, her usually fierce eyes now suddenly docile in the aftermath of the experience.

For his own part, Jaime lay newly docile beneath him, his once taut form now completely slack. His own eyes were open and distant.

"Wasn't that good?" Cersei said quietly down to her brother, her legs still wrapped around him, her form newly motionless and still resplendently nude.

Jaime's eyes opened at that, tired and strangely discontent. Then he looked up to her and his expression seemed to clear a bit at the sight.

"I love you, Cersei," he said. Slowly he drew his arms up to her and kissed her fiercely until both eventually fell aside from each other towards sleep.

Tommen was different this morning.

A mother knows these things of her son, Cersei reflected as she peered closely at him. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Rhoynar, and the First Men was passively sitting at his breakfast table. His cat was close by as ever, moving in for a pet one moment and then patrolling around their legs the next. It was a wretchedly fluffy furball that always served to inflict cat hair upon her elaborate gowns.

Tommen was being too quiet, not bubbling with his usual youthful enthusiasm. Frequently the green eyes she had bestowed him with would go distant as if to ponder some memory, so often he seemed more in the past than the present.

"Tommen."

Cersei said the name softly to see if it would be enough to break him out his reverie.

It wasn't. Tommen still looked distantly down at the costly Myrish rug without truly seeing it.

"Tommen!" Cersei made the name a whip crack this time.

The king jumped and turned his gaze hastily to hers. "Yes, Mother?"

The Queen Regent gave a sigh. "You've been staring at that rug for five minutes now. It really isn't that beautiful."

"Is there something else on your mind?"

Tommen coloured, unleashing red upon his cheeks. "No," he said too quickly.

Cersei studied him imperiously.

"You know what happens when you lie to me," she said ominously.

Tommen squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm not lying."

"Yes you are." Cersei's voice went cold. "Now you dare to pile lie onto lie. I am going to send for Pate and you will whip him ten times yourself unless you start telling me the truth."

"No, Mother, I…" Tommen's voice trailed and his mediocre resistance broke. "It's Margaery."

Cersei's gut went cold at the name. "What about her?"

Tommen went, if possible, even redder. "Last night, we, we…"

With only that Cersei's gut went from cold to a blazing furious anger toward the Tyrell girl. Margaery had ignored her warning and taken her son's innocence.

Tommen was still grasping for words, his features flushed. Cersei didn't need to hear the, for she well aware of what had happened by then.

"Stay here and finish your breakfast," Cersei ordered. She stood to address the numerous guards that were around the king night and day.

Jaime, of course, was not among them. He was much too tired after last night, she noted with a smug satisfaction. Granted, she had lost control of herself as well and some moon tea would be in order, but it had been worth it.

Silver days and golden nights…

Now she had someone to visit though, and this arrival promised to much less pleasant in nature.

Cersei walked determinedly forth through the Red Keep's hallways flanked by a pair of Kingsguard, Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. Both had proven themselves to be adequately biddable creatures to her will.

Her heart was racing and Cersei knew she was walking faster than she should have been. The cause was the rage coursing within her as she passed unconcernedly by a number of members of court.

When she eventually arrived, she found another member of the Kingsguard guarding the door to her destination, and predictably it was the Knight of Flowers.

Loras Tyrell was a comely man, full of a youthful vigor and a confidence to match his undeniable martial prowess. The way he shone next to the doorway in his white armour made him seem far greater than either of the white brothers that flanked her. His hair was a collection of brown curls, his eyes so much like his sister's that it made Cersei feel a new surge of rage within her at the sight.

Those eyes came up to meet them and the boy tensed noticeably at the sight of her approach.

"Ser Loras," Cersei said stiffly. "I have come to visit your sister. I would meet with her in private."

She spoke the words with all the authority she could, but still Loras hesitated. It was easy to tell how discomfited he was at the situation.

"Very well, Your Grace," Loras said at length, doubt still evident upon his face. "I will lead you to her."

Together they passed through the doors to behold the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

It was curious that Margaery had decided not to stay with the King for breakfast. Instead she had deigned to break her fast with her brother and the nest of hens who ever surrounded her.

"Cersei!" Margaery's eyes fastened swiftly upon her arrival, betraying none of the nervousness that might've been expected of her. She rose to greet Cersei, sweeping around the table in a bold maneuver.

Cersei had no choice but to embrace the new Queen, despite knowing how stiffly she did so. Dimly she noted Margaery's pleasant scent and the way the soft brown curls she shared with her brother tickled at her skin.

Margaery was shorter than Cersei but the way she looked so fearlessly upward minimized these physical shortcomings.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I would speak to you alone…good daughter," Cersei said. Everyone in the room heard the hesitation and a few of the audience's expressions flickered. No doubt at least a few had the awareness or intelligence to pick up the tension between the two Queens of past and present.

"Of course." Margaery was fearless, Cersei had to give her that. "Please let us talk privately, dear guests. We will share a lovely lunch together in recompense, I promise."

The guests began to depart, but Cersei had eyes only for the Knight of Flowers. Cersei might not be able to see through Margaery's emotions but Loras was always easier to read, as hot-tempered as he was.

He was casting a concerned brown-eyed stare at her sister who returned a confident smile. "Thank you, brother," Margaery said. "Do me the favour of waiting without."

The Tyrell boy regarded his sister with some concern before nodding with obvious reluctance. Still taut he strode out last of all the guests and closed the doors of the room behind them.

Cersei waited a few seconds longer to be safe. The window provided a view just as glorious as during breakfast earlier; the sunlight was streaming in behind Margaery. It made the new Tyrell Queen look almost ethereal and harder to see.

"Why are you here, Cersei?" Margaery's tone had not changed, but the way she addressed the new queen regent by her first name showed a lack of respect here in private.

Their animosity seemed to grow only deeper with each passing day.

"Tommen," Cersei bit off. "My son. You-"

"Ah yes, Tommen." Margaery came forward a few steps towards Cersei, still shrouded in sunlight. "He is such a good boy; he must take more after his father."

Margaery's bald irreverence broke through whatever remained of Cersei's weakening control. She had barely maintained herself up this point and now, full of wrath, she closed the remaining distance between them and brought her hand forward in a slap.

The new Queen slid aside with surprising grace from the blow, a movement bearing similarities to Loras' own deftness in the yard. Cersei was surprised at how easily she had been avoided as Margaery's once placid expression vanished.

"I will give you only that one," Margaery said in a tone much colder than Cersei had ever heard from her. She had escaped back into a darker corner of the room and escaped the glow of the sun. "I understand how you can be emotional under these circumstances."

"Emotional?" Cersei had to restrain herself from screaming the word, aware of how there were always those listening in the Red Keep. However, her voice did rise dramatically.

"I warned you not to touch my son. You were to sleep in the same bed as husband and wife, nothing more."

"You wheedled a confession out of poor Tommen, did you?" Margaery replied evenly. "I am not surprised. I assure you, I made him feel as comfortable as anyone could ask for during their first time."

"You seduced him, you bitch." Cersei's voice was carefully low but full of rage.

"Oh yes." Margaery gave her a supremely unconcerned smile that only infuriated Cersei further. "I assure you we only did what he wanted, and apparently that was to seed my womb. Perhaps even now I already bear the future heir to the Seven Kingdoms within me, your very own grandson."

"I should-"

"What?" Margaery interrupted in a tone that was suddenly harsh. "What are you going to do, Cersei? Have me executed? Hire a killer? Banish or exile me?"

Cersei didn't know how to reply.

"You have no such power," Margaery continued. "You can have all the pride and anger you want but you still do not dare to touch me. Your choice to come here was foolish, for nothing can come of it."

"I have been at court for many years," Cersei said in a tenuous tone. "I waited my turn to be queen and I have not worked for so long to be displaced by your likes."

"Your time is past," Margaery answered. "You look tired, Cersei. It must be increasingly difficult for you to restrain the signs of your age."

Cersei tensed but she somehow kept herself under control, although this restraint cost her the opportunity to reply.

"Now that you are finished giving your empty threats, is that all?" Margaery said conclusively. "After all, I must meet with the king. Given how well last night went maybe he will want to try again."

Cersei couldn't restrain herself any further at these words. She swept forth to bring her sleeved hand in another strike at Margaery. The Tyrell girl sought to avoid by sliding aside but Cersei had compensated this time and brought her other hand up.

However, Margaery had likewise not limited herself in an attempt to dodge. Instead she had also responded with a slap of her own and the two struck the other at the same time.

Both women reeled from their respective blows. Each of their respectively lovely features abruptly took on expression of pains, bringing their hands up to touch at their faces.

For a moment, they both looked blankly at the other, their hands still raised upwards. Eventually, their mouths opened simultaneously to utter the same words in a chorus.

"You hit me!"

Then Cersei, her rage fully realized and uninhibited, drove herself towards her rival in an abrupt, distinctly undignified bull rush.

Margaery met the blow square and together the two Queens hit the floor. Cersei was on top but Margaery struggled hard to escape out of her grasp, their hands grasping at each other. Their respective fine dresses were sent into disarray by the scrum.

Cersei was older though, taller and stronger. The force of her charge had taken Margaery seemingly unawares, although she continued to wiggle in attempts at escape.

Both could have screamed for help and had the Kingsguard arrive in an instant.

Neither did so, even Margaery, pinned beneath Cersei as she was, at an obvious disadvantage.

"What will you do now, Cersei?" Margaery's eyes were cast upward, arms held in place, her breasts rising and falling rapidly after their exertions.

Cersei looked downwards, anger still coursing through her. "You've defiled my son and threaten to displace me. You seem so sure I cannot harm you, but I would not be so in your place."

"You may have triumphed here, but we both know you cannot kill me." Margaery looked upwards, a little diminished but still defiant. "Let me up, Cersei."

Despite Margaery's continuing resistance, Cersei exulted at her position of power atop the Tyrell girl. Her rival was at her mercy now, after all the politics and shadowplays, at long last.

This must be what Jaime felt like on the battlefield. To conquer enemies and see them cast beneath your feet, to exult in the glory of victory.

Cersei wondered if it was like this for men in the bedchamber as well, to pin a beautiful woman beneath you and make them completely at your mercy. To plumb her deaths as she moaned, to conquer her by sheathing yourself over and over inside her...

Margaery was still looking upwards expectantly.

"No," Cersei said resolvedly.

Margaery's certainty suddenly slid off her face at that one little word. She didn't seem to have considered the prospect of refusal.

"What?"

"No," Cersei repeated, keeping Margaery pinned below her. "You must at least be taught a…lesson."

Cersei took a bit of pride in seeing the flash of fear through Margaery's brown eyes at the prospect.


	3. Chapter 3

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Margaery's uncertainty rang through her tones.

Cersei allowed herself another moment to revel in her new position of power. Gods it felt good to be here like this after having conquered Margaery at long last. Although if truth be told, the look in the other's eyes below was not one of defeat…

The queen regent could feel how her body still soared with adrenaline in the wake of their recent conflict. It reminded her of what Jaime had once said, that he had never felt so alive as when he was in battle...or in bed. Now she had a taste of the former, one that had long been denied by the nature of her sex.

"Oh, you're a smart girl," Cersei said with a cruel smile and green gaze. "Surely you've figured it out by now."

The Tyrell girl's uncertainty gave way to a more general confusion, oddly fetching upon her typically calm and aware expression.

"But...you...you're not a-"

"I act however I please," Cersei said emphatically, still flush in victory. "For that is what queens do, and I am one still...despite all your efforts."

Her smile widened, but it remained without joy.

"I will show you the price of your insolence."

As Cersei spoke her hands pulled the regal dress up to her own hips, exposing the sight of lean bare legs and the growing wetness between them.

Margaery shook slightly in a faint attempt to resist...until her brown glance fell to the sight directly above her. The Lannister woman's smallclothes could not hide the scent of arousal, a reality neither of them ignored. This recognition was having an effect on the younger woman as well, for Margaery's normally pale flesh was turning unusually red.

Even so the situation clearly was not wholly comfortable for her, given the confusion still upon the Tyrell girl's features. The enduring hesitation was all the opening Cersei needed though.

Sweeping the rich fabric of her dress swiftly off to one side, Cersei brought one hand down to expose her womanhood at last from its cloth prison. She revelled in this exposure, the air upon her newly freed intimate regions. Then she began to lower herself, using her second hand and body weight to hold the Tyrell girl's head in place.

Margaery again stirred at this but Cersei only smiled coldly at the feeble resistance, continuing her descent until at last she reached a point where she felt something brush against the sensitive edges of her pussy. For a moment she revelled in that, then moved down even further to ensure the Tyrell's features were pressed against her molten womanhood.

She could feel the other's breath between her legs and could only imagine what it must be like there. Margaery's various senses must've been completely filled with all there was to experience of a woman in arousal.

"Come now," the queen regent said, looking down to where Margaery's face was now partly obscured by her still regal form. "No longer is it time to play the shy maiden. I know those hens of yours must have taught you about this."

She shifted to briefly expose the younger brunette's face, looking deeply into the other's eyes, green on brown.

"I see what you are, Margaery...and what you're capable of. And you know of me the same, as you always have."

"So let's get this over with. You know I'm not going to let you go until its done. Fight if you must, but this will happen nonetheless."

Her grip grew harder to become iron, locked upon the soft brown curls below.

"You, Margaery, are going to lick my pussy," Cersei said in a rough voice, her tongue parting the lips to betray her excitement. "Until I come all over your pretty face."

Margaery's face flickered, her pride flaring abruptly at the coarse demand, but there was much emotion swirling within the younger woman as well. Despite all their animosity, she could not fail to note how Cersei was still undeniably a lovely woman. The Tyrell girl has not been one to fully restrain her desires to plunder such beauty.

The new queen mollified herself in additional thoughts. She may have been being temporarily overpowered but was unconquered, and as long as such was true, she could wait for the opportunity to take revenge. Nor could Margaery deny the appeal of being the submissive for once, to not have to take the lead as she had to with Tommen and the others.

No, there were charms to be found in this for her as well. Cersei may seek to humiliate her...but Margaery would enjoy this.

There was no warning before Cersei felt a first hot, wet lash of tongue upon her outer folds, prompting a sigh of pleasure from the queen regent.

"Well, that didn't take much, did it," Cersei said downward with a knowing smile. Another stroke provoked her next sentence. "Mmmm, that's it. I knew you'd be good at this."

Margaery's inhibitions were clearly lessening by the moment. The blonde could feel her captive growing more audacious, and in between revelling in the sensations she looked around at the surroundings which still gleaming in the morning sun.

Still perched upon those fair lips, Cersei's gaze eventually returned below to behold Margaery's cleavage, feeling a jealous, burgeoning desire to expose it more fully. Then a deeper, exquisite look washed this thought away, prompting her blonde head to rise anew with a heavy exhale of rapture.

Seconds, minutes, or hours passed, long enough for Cersei's control to wane. Margaery was both capable and relentless, her work inflaming to both behold and feel. The younger Tyrell's own womanhood and form was becoming more tempting, even to Cersei, but the queen regent wanted to see something different first, given how close she was.

She bent her lithe form up, rising from Margaery at last, the act revealing her head again.

Those lovely features were now only half obscured by Cersei's body, brown eyes looking upward to question the movements of the other. Her lips and lower mouth were damp with the blonde's fluids, a marring she bore without shame, only a curious aspect.

Breathing heavily during this respite, Margaery settled her head back and spoke in a newly freed voice.

"What are you-"

But Cersei had predicted the reaction and planned accordingly.

"I'm close, Margaery. And as I said before...you're going to send me over the edge."

Both her hands abruptly seized anew upon either side of Margaery's head, gripping fiercely. She held it in place with new fury, preventing the Tyrell girl from moving away before driving her nude form back downward upon it.

Any last semblances of her self control vanished at the lewd prospect of what was approaching. At pinning her younger rival even further into a subservient position, holding her fast...keeper her utterly at her mercy.

It was ever the power that excited Cersei most, and a newfound surge of excitement coursed through the blonde. All the buildup at Margaery's humbling, the carnal pleasures pulsing through her body.

For one moment she basked in the glories of the experience...then Cersei Lannister let out a loud exhale that evolved into a quiet moan. It marked her fierce release that began to flood Margaery's diligently working mouth.

Even as the brunette squirmed in surprise below, it only encouraged Cersei further, her legs wobbling and weakening upon that lovely face she was cumming upon. Margaery's brown eyes were visibly wider than normal as she was forced to taste fully the spasming womanhood above. Cersei noted though that the other kept their tongue at work through it all, demonstrating how they were clearly not wholly displeased at the way things were going.

Then Cersei crested at last, legs giving way completely as they bracketed across the young Tyrell's face. Her hands fell away from the brunette's head, her normally keen green eyes dazed, body flushed and covered in a faint sheen of sweat.

Gods, that had been even better than she had expected, Cersei thought. It had been her best in so long and had taken a lot out of her, the blonde finding her breaths heaving, tall form still reeling from the immensity of the experience.

It almost felt like she was watching from a different perspective as she beheld Margaery escape from her position below, too exhausted to contest it.

The Tyrell girl was breathless herself and flushed, lower face gleaming in liquid from the sun. Her brown eyes were also bright as she brought the back of a slim hand across her mouth to clean off some but not nearly all of what was there.

"That," Margaery said with a sudden anger, expression cross. "Was not fair, Cersei."

Then suddenly she drove forward, catching Cersei by surprise and forcing her backwards. The blonde resisted feebly, older and stronger but irrevocably weakeney.

The queen regent fell back upon the nearby floor and Margaery wasted no time moving forward to take advantage. There was little pain in the abrupt change of circumstances but Cersei was only mildly able to resist this reversal of roles. Frustratingly, she found herself unable to make up this disadvantage.

It was a curious twist of fate that she beheld. Margaery was positioned above her now, lowering one lithe hand to lift her own dress up as Cersei once had.

"You presume too much," she said with a quiet dangerousness as she did. The younger brunette was, if anything, even more beautiful in this fierceness than her typical docility.

Cersei replied by attempting to roll the Tyrell girl off again but the other somehow overcame the effort with visibly straining legs. It did not help how the queen regent was still out of breath herself, given no respite to recover.

"You think to use me for your pleasure Cersei?" Margaery said quietly. "Let us see how you enjoy your own treatment."

Without waiting a moment further, the Tyrell lowered herself onto Cersei's fair face, far rougher than even the queen regent had. Suddenly Cersei's senses were filled with the sight of Margaery's own pussy and the clear signs of excitement there.

What was left of the queen's pride prevented her from accepting this offering so easily though, even one so lovely as this. Margaery could see the hesitation from above and her expression grew cross.

"You think your reluctance changes anything? Mine did not change anything for you. No, this is not going to end so easily for you either."

She began to rock herself upon Cersei's face. The blonde kept her lips primly sealed but she could feel the moisture of Margaery's pussy spreading across her once proud features.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Margaery asked, breathless herself now in her rampaging emotions. "To feel powerful by making me do what you wanted? I am going to do the same to you."

She slid herself back and forth upon the queen regent.

"Mmm, yes," Margaery said. "You look so lovely there, Cersei...and you feel good too. Perhaps this is even enough for me to finish all over that pretty face of yours."

Cersei could not deny a desire to taste at the womanhood moving upon her but she refrained. No, she would not give her rival the satisfaction of her pleasure...unless…

Unless it was what she needed to do to regain the advantage, to deprive the Tyrell of her energy as she had done herself. Her consciousness fastened upon this rationalization as the intelligent thing to do, and Cersei considered this with a weakening resolve.

Then her proud lips parted at last, tongue emerging to lick upward.

Margaery had already been enjoying herself, but the sensation of the other's tongue piercing into her most intimate region provoked a further reaction. Her body convulsed visibly and those brown eyes widened, looking downward as she briefly stopped moving. Instead she briefly fixed upon the sights below, almost aghast but visibly excited.

How could Margaery not be, as she locked gazes with those lovely upraised green eyes, revelling in the sight of the lovely Cersei Lannister beginning to eat her out with a wonderfully increasing enthusiasm.

She could not long withstand that kind of stimulation. Her mind was filled with only one thought; by the gods, it felt so good. Cersei was constant, blonde hair shifting as she lapped away, the soft, wet sounds of her tonguework audible in their close quarters.

Margaery tried to hold on. She closed her eyes, imaging herself elsewhere to prolong the situation. When she opened them again though it only made the sight even more inflaming. Her pale, lean legs straddled Cersei's blonde head, her dress a pool of cloth held to the side.

It was when the other began to suck fiercely upon her sensitive nub, fingers held fast to spread her ever wider open, when Margaery knew the end was nigh. She tried one last time to resist, failed miserably, and then her mouth fell open in a wordless scream as she plunged over the edge.

Predictably, in her moment of greatest rapture Margaery's hands gripped upon Cersei's head. If truth be told, the queen regent's jaw was uncomfortably set, her neck aching from having to crane it upwards to get better access to her target. Even so, Cersei resolved herself for this one final effort to see her rival overcome.

As Margaery orgasmed the unleashed liquid flooded Cersei's mouth with the Tyrell girl's taste, but the queen regent could not find it within herself to stop entirely. Even as her younger rival moaned softly above, her body flushed and writhing, womanhood spasming, Cersei kept her tongue buried within Margaery's center. The brunette's muscles were convulsing, legs shaking about her face.

"That's it Cersei," Margaery moaned. "Suck, mmm, yes, take all I have to give you...keep going...oh..."

For a moment Cersei continued to do exactly that until those lovely taut, slim legs gave way fully to show how the Tyrell beauty had finally become sated.

Margaery fell away at last, rolling off Cersei's now shining face in clear exhaustion. Her beautiful face was dappled in sweat and still marked by Cersei's own fluids from earlier, breaths gasping as she fell to the blonde's side. Beneath her still lovely but visibly askew gown, her small breasts were rising and falling quickly.

How long they lingered there together, basking in the sunlight and recent experiences, neither fully knew. No further words were exchanged, and instead these two powerful women who ruled a kingdom, rivals and now for the first time brief lovers, lay together upon the floor in silence.

Then at last came a faint knock upon the door, the sound jarring as it pierced the earlier silence.

"Sister?" came through Loras' voice, filled with concern.

Margaery tensed.

"Yes?"

"Is everything okay? It has been some time since-"

The Tyrell girl threw a shrewd look over at Cersei. "Everything is fine, Loras. We are still...negotiating."

"You should consider an end," the other answered. "We have other appointments today-"

"I am well aware," Margaery said impatiently, her anger coming to the fore. For a moment Cersei was reminded more of Olenna Tyrell than the docility the brunette usually displayed.

"Interrupting in this way will not help. I will emerge when our matter is concluded and not before. Leave me be."

Cersei could all but hear the frown and frustration of the other through the door.

"By your will, sister." The footsteps retreated.

Margaery looked back to Cersei and her tone lowered.

"What...what we just did," she began quietly, but Cersei overrode her and began to rise.

"It never happened...good-daughter," the queen regent said, gathering herself as best as she was capable of. Her tone grew even colder.

"I will repeat what I said, so we are clear."

"It...never...happened."

Margaery was not long in the uptake. She rose and studied Cersei, shorter but fearless, mind clearly contemplating the implications.

"No...it did not," the Tyrell girl repeated afterward, straightening herself as well.

"That's what I thought," Cersei said without another glance back to Margaery. Instead she swept forward to open the door.

A full week had passed now since the wedding.

Tommen and Margaery had not lain together since but the young king still thought about it often...how could he not?

The new queen would often catch him looking shyly at her even after all they had already shared. Occasionally she would see his gaze fall to less respectable areas, but she dutifully never responded with anything but a welcoming smile.

Even then the teenager would flush and look away, eliciting a faint sigh of impatience from Margaery. She knew the roles demanded of her as a queen, among which was to bear the king's children, but there were other considerations as well.

He needed to learn how to break through his endearing but often frustrating shyness to become a proper ruler. Margaery felt the the key for this was through the bedchamber and in his obvious interest in it. Already Margaery could sense his normal timidity waning against his burgeoning carnal drives.

She would wait for Tommen to ask though. Her restraint was only aided in how she had recently experienced release at the hands...or more accurately tongue...of his mother. The memory gave rise to confusion at the memory; the state of her acrimonious relationship with Cersei was now all the more muddled for that previous morning.

This new day at last found Tommen and Margaery walking together in the royal gardens. If truth be told Margaery had never truly thought much of this place though; they seemed a pale imitation of those she had seen in Highgarden.

She was considering how at least they smelt better than the rest of King's Landing when Tommen drew them to a stop.

"Margaery," the young king finally said.

The brunette looked to her younger husband, removing her arm from inside his.

"Yes, my king?"

For a moment Tommen seemed tongue-tied, unsure as if whether to continue his thought. Then he lowered his voice.

"Can you tell the guards to leave?"

She could have easily complied but Margaery felt it was better to resist.

"Why don't you tell them yourself," she returned gently with a smile.

"Oh." Tommen looked as if he truly hadn't considered such. "I guess I could-"

"Go ahead then," Margaery encouraged. "Do it if you want to."

She turned back to their escort without giving him the opportunity to respond.

"Guardsmen, your king has something to tell you," she said in a suddenly strong, authoritative voice.

Tommen followed her lead much less impressively.

"I wish for you to leave us," he managed.

The guards exchanged a look.

"Your Grace," one of them said. "It is our duty to ensure your protection at all times. Given this interest perhaps it is unwise for us to depart."

Tommen digested that, clearly considering a response. "Yes, well-"

Margaery's impatience flared at the sight and the Tyrell rounded upon the guard who had spoken.

"Your king has just given you a royal command," she said in a brittle voice. "Why are you still here?"

"My queen-"

"You can protect us just as well on the perimeter," Margaery continued over him. "We will call for you again, but do not return before then."

She punctuated these emphatic words with two more.

"Go. Now."

The guard looked to Tommen, who nodded wordlessly. Then he looked to his companion who gave a faint shrug.

Looking distinctly unhappy the man subsided. "Your Grace," he said respectfully, bowing and then marching away.

Margaery watched them go before turning back to Tommen with a smile, her tone noticeably lightening.

"I'm glad you did that. It's much nicer with just the two of us..."

She took a deep breath and spread her arms wide, letting herself whirl slightly on the spot. Margaery knew it made for a potent display of her beauty, as her rich brown hair swirling through the air.

"And it's such a lovely day too. So perfect."

When her gaze returned to Tommen, however, she saw that it was lowered to her chest. He recognized her awareness belatedly and his attention rose.

"Oh. Sorry." His cheeks coloured again.

"I'm not," Margaery said, still smiling, but Tommen looked away unconvincingly. The new queen sighed inwardly, then struck upon a new tack.

She drew his attention toward a nearby collection of flowers. "Ah, look at these! They're so beautiful!"

Without waiting she went to the plant and carefully leaned down, exposing her shapely backside to the king. She allowed him an extra moment to savour the sight before rising again and turning with the flower held within the cleft between her breasts.

"Don't you agree, Tommen?"

As the king nodded dumbly, obviously not looking too much at the flower, Margaery took a deep smell. Again, the fragrance was nothing special to her standards, but she looked over the top of its petals to him with smoldering brown eyes.

"It was so very ripe for picking, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I suppose," Tommen said quietly, and then he looked back to the side with flushed features.

"I wish Ser Pounce were here, he needs-"

Margaery sighed, allowing the flower to fall to her side.

"I can't wait like this any longer, Tommen. I thought I could...but..."

She gestured downward. "Why don't you come sit down with me."

The king looked confused. "Here? But we're in the middle of the garden, it's so dirty-"

"Then we will stand."

"No, if you want to sit-"

His indecisiveness was endearing to a point, but Margaery could no longer restrain her frustration at it.

"It doesn't matter which you choose," she said impatiently. "Just that you do."

"But I...I just want-"

"What matters is that you do what you want...not what others do."

Tommen digested that.

"I just want to make everyone happy though," he said nobly.

"I know," Margaery soothed. "But you need to start acting more like a king Tommen...and a king is someone who often has to act with their own will."

Tommen looked wary.

"You mean like Joffrey?"

They were treading upon trickier ground now...but Margaery had dealt with worse.

"In a way," she said. "But he had his own flaws which I don't see in you. You can become a far greater monarch than he ever could...but to do so you must learn how."

Tommen looked to her, aspect still uncertain.

"Not many have told me this," he said quietly. "It was always grandfather, mother or Joffrey who gave commands; usually Myrcella and I just sat back and watched-"

"I know," Margaery soothed. "Things are different now, though...Joffrey is gone, and your mother..."

She let the thought trail off before continuing.

"Besides." She smiled. "There are many joys to be found in embracing your own desires."

Margaery let that settle in for a moment, brown eyes gazing intently upon him.

"I know you think about it, Tommen."

The king was confused. "About what?"

"Our wedding night," Margaery said. "And all those things we did together during it."

"Oh, that." Tommen's blush was renewed.

"Didn't it feel good?"

"It was incredible," he breathed without hesitation. "But-"

"What did you like the most?"

"All of it," Tommen said, but Margaery persevered. She knew how talking about it would excite the young king...

"You must have preferred some part of it though."

"Well..." Tommen considered, turning even more red. "You felt so nice and...warm when I was inside you."

"Did you like how it ended?" Margaery said, studying him boldly.

"You mean when I..."

"When you came inside me," she completed fearlessly.

Tommen looked ashamed at the mention.

"You shouldn't say that."

"Why?" Margaery answered. "It is something I'll never forget...and how could I. It felt incredible to have your seed inside me..."

Tommen was so flustered he did not speak again, allowing her to continue.

"Do you remember asking me what to do before you came? And my answer?"

"Yes."

"I told you to do whatever you wanted...and you did."

She paused for effect.

"And it felt all the more perfect that you made that choice, for both of us, because I knew you did what you did for your greatest enjoyment. And I know that because you could have done so many other things...but you didn't. You wanted to cum inside me, Tommen...and I wanted you to as well."

"You acted like your namesake, the brave golden lion," Margaery pressed home. "And a lion does not ask others as to what he should do, does he? Instead he acts and is renowned by all for his strength and resolve."

Even as she spoke these words she knew that this was not a matter to be resolved so easily. Cersei's domineering influence obviously ran deep in Tommen but Margaery wanted to at least plant the seed to nurture.

"So I'm going to ask you again, now," she said. "Is there anything you want to do now while we're here alone? Speak your mind."

The young king paused.

"Well," he said. "I've been thinking about our night together a lot, and now that you've mentioned it too..."

He looked at her with a tentative resolve.

"Could we do it again?"

Margaery favoured him with a smile, coy yet promising.

"Yes we could, if you want to."

He looked excited at the prospect. "Let's do it then."

"Then tell me what you want, Tommen."

"Can I see...your breasts," he said haltingly. "They're always hidden, and I just want to...see them all for once..."

Margaery did not question the request. Instead the brunette simply drew a hand to each side of her bodice and confidently drew it open, allowing her breasts to spill free from the former constraints of her dress.

As his eyes fell upon her exposed topless beauty, her voice emerged almost hypnotically into his mind.

"If you find the courage to say what you want, you will be often rewarded...like this."

Tommen came forward. The young teen was obviously still full of doubt but there could be no disguising the great depths of his desire. His hands rose and cupped her breast, gripping hungrily at the soft flesh, prompting Margaery to give a little moan at his actions.

His thumbs moving across the nipples which hardened visibly under the ministrations, Margaery watching him do it with a smile...and soaring body.

"My body is yours, my king," she said. "As your queen and wife. What would you have of me?"

His eyes rose to hers...so very green, just like his mother's. The memory sent Margaery briefly back to when Cersei's face had been perched between her thighs, sucking fiercely at her spasming pussy-

"Can you touch...me?"

The queen gave him a bright smile. "Of course."

Slowly, carefully, she fell to her knees and drew down his breeches. Margaery could hear his excited breaths from above as she looked upon his already rigid length before her, now exposed in the outdoor light.

Then she gripped it with one hand, eliciting a groan from the teenager. She only smiled all the wider for the reaction and began to pump to make his tautness even harder.

Tommen was looking down upon her.

"Please...use your mouth again..."

Without hesitation or fear, Margaery drew her fair head upon him and parted her lips. She drew forth so his cock entered between them, but she did not exert any pressure upon it quite yet.

Even so Tommen was ever more rigid in her mouth and Margaery knew with his inexperience it could be any moment when she got a mouthful of his seed again. The prospect did not overly trouble her but it bore consideration nonetheless.

Tommen beheld Margaery's mouth around his cock, her eyes upraised for his pleasure as she began to move upon him. He let her suckle upon him for a few more wonderful seconds before speaking again.

"Margaery."

The brunette stopped in her actions, slowly drawing off him with an exquisitely slow movement. When the young king's member finally escaped her mouth a thin trail of her saliva connected the two.

"Yes, Tommen?"

He paused.

"During the wedding you...did that thing with your breasts. Could you do it again?"

Margaery smiled.

"Of course, my dear husband."

She drew herself forward, placing his cock between her modest but comely breasts. Once there she placed a hand upon him and began to pump.

Tommen revelled in the warm feel of her skin, the sight of himself upon her cleavage. Her hand slowly picked up speed, sliding along his length which was hard as a board between the comparatively her soft, yielding breasts.

It was enough for Tommen to lose himself, his limited restraint unaided by the fact he had been without release since the week.

"I can feel you're close," Margaery said. It was no falsehood; the boy king was positively writhing under her touch.

"Don't stop," Tommen moaned. "Please...don't stop..."

Margaery obliged. Her one hand was moving swiftly now, releasing an unrelenting amount of pleasure upon him.

"Oh..." Tommen said. "I'm going to...Margaery..."

The Tyrell girl was not expecting any warning, but the fact that her lover was considerate enough to provide it this time was endearing. In a swift movement she brought her other hand up and began to move upon his length, the pressure doubling.

It was easily enough to end Tommen's resistance. The king cried out and his cock twitched and suddenly began to spurt forth into the pastoral setting.

Margaery did not stop her torrid efforts, not even when the first powerful stream struck as high as her chin. She could feel the way Tommen's length was pulsing in her hand, the muscles contracting to release stream after stream upon her breasts.

Her cleavage was soon mottled in creamy white grey liquid. Tommen held out for a moment longer, looking to down to see Margaery's welcoming face and breasts marked in his seed, then he descended backwards helplessly.

Margaery saw him fall back upon the soft grass with satisfaction. Then she fell to her knees before him even as he sought to catch his breath.

His eyes were still upon her, dazed, fixated upon her cleavage without shame now...at long last. Margaery saw it and she brought a finger at her dark brown nipple now covered in liquid, then drew it up to her mouth and sucked at it.

Tommen beheld that sight with excitement even now.

"Wow," he said. "Margaery...that felt so good..."

"Did it?" Margaery answered. "I'm so glad."

She descended before his slack legs, hands moving out to grasp at his now weakening length. The head of Tommen's cock was gleaming, and her actions drew out a last visible dribble of his seed.

Margaery looked from it back up to him and brought her mouth to suck upon him.

His taste was strong but she did not care. With enthusiasm she cleaned Tommen off, receiving another wave of his taste in the process, but the boy did not react as she had anticipated.

She had expected him to tell her to stop after a while, unable to continue. Instead she felt stirrings of his cock again, felt it hardening once more at her ministrations.

Perhaps there was benefits to having such a young lover, Margaery mused in response. Clearly he was not done after all, and she eventually broke off his rehardening cock to remark upon this.

"You're ready again? Already?"

"I can't help it," Tommen said with shame. "You are just too...I couldn't…."

"This is nothing to be ashamed of," Margaery said. "In fact...you should be proud, my husband."

"I want to see more of you," Tommen replied in a rush.

Margaery drew her dress up in answer, exposing her legs. She could have mounted him to then and there easily in an effort to repeat their wedding experience.

No, there was still a lesson to be taught here though...and she would teach it.

Margaery moved back from him and moved onto all fours. Then she moved a hand to draw down her smallclothes, looking back to Tommen and saw how he had risen, his eyes fixed upon her presented, inviting womanhood.

Her hand stretched along her body, fingers parting her folds to better reveal herself.

"You remember this," Margaery said. "I'm waiting for you, for your pleasure..."

"Make love to me again, Tommen."

The young king was still somewhat clothed, his movements made slightly ridiculous with his fallen pants around his ankles. Even so his features were visibly excited as he came forth toward her.

Clearly the sight of her must have made an impression upon the youth. For one moment she was waiting expectantly, legs braced…

And then the next he had sheathed himself entirely inside her, so far his thighs struck upon hers.

The action was jarring even for Margaery. She cried out, her eyes widening as she looked back to Tommen, who flinched visibly.

"Oh no," he said. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be," Margaery panted. She smiled back at him, her pussy now reaccustomed to his length.

"I can stop-"

"Don't you dare," she said.

Tommen nodded...and then, gently, began to thrust.

He was timid at first, but the young king soon increased his speed. There was no rhythm or order to the movements, but this was strangely exciting to Margaery. His inexperience was unusual and made sure the end was potentially around any corner.

The queen made all the proper noises, bracing herself against him, holding herself as steady as she could as Tommen set to work.

The teenager was gripping her ripe female form stretched ahead of him.

"Isn't this good," Margaery cooed from ahead. "Mmm, your cock feels so nice, Tommen..."

The young king features were increasingly strained as he set to work.

"Talk to me, my king," she said back to him. "How do you feel?"

"You're so...wet," Tommen said. "But warm and...tight too."

"You've made me like this," Margaery said. "I've been waiting long for you my king, but none of that matters now. Here we are..."

"Make me yours."

Tommen drove into her again, his face going rigid. He was clearly on the edge, but he could not conceive any thought other than to keep driving himself into his waiting, willing wife and queen.

"Are you ready, Tommen?" Margaery asked him. "What do you want to do? Are you going to come inside me again-"

Then suddenly, Tommen stilled. Her words had proven almost prophetic. The king's mouth opened, his blonde hair tousled and sweaty, and then he gave out a primal, excited yell.

Well, it was true enough that she had told him to do what he wanted, Margaery mused with a faint amusement. It was swift; one moment they had been well and truly going at it, the next he was stopping, his cock embedded within her pussy, filling it once more with its load.

She could feel these hot jets of liquid spurting within her most intimate regions, prompting her to cry out in ecstasy. Even her own control was waning in the immensity of that sensation, the feeling of femininity at being seeded.

Even as Tommen came inside Margaery, filling her completely, she tried to tighten herself upon him. The effort clearly had an effect, for the king cried out anew and his legs tightened, his hands fixed upon his wife and queen's backside.

Her hands drew Tommen forward even as she drove herself back, uniting them tightly together as husband and wife.

For as long as it took, they remained there. It was clearly all Tommen could do to still stand, his eyes blank, lingering inside her.

Then he drew out, his legs giving way at last. He fell backward, and looked up.

Margaery had not moved herself, remaining braced on all fours as she had been. She looked back with her lovely features, brown eyes sparkling, hair tousled but still exceptionally lovely. The lush feminine curves of her body were magnificent, from the way the breasts swung freely to the ground...but even these glorious sights were nothing compared another.

For between her legs, below the mound of brown pubic hair, was her ripe, freshly used womanhood. Already there was a white creaminess visible among its pink folds, but before Tommen's eyes a greater flow of his own white seed emerged from her filled pussy to fall upon the ground.

"Oh wow, I can feel it," Margaery said, drawing a hand down between her legs to feel. "It's so nice that you've come inside me again, Tommen."

Her smile grew radiant smile. "Just as good as the first time."

Tommen settled back, panting with exhaustion. His eyes were lidded, for clearly the double release had been much even for him.

"Margaery," he managed. "I love you."

The brunette responded by settling next to where Tommen was, drawing his face to rest it upon one breast. Margaery's cleavage was still mottled in his drying seed but the young king was not one to care at that moment.

"And I love you too, Tommen," Margaery answered. "Rest now, my brave little lion."

He was not long in complying. Soon the young king was dozing, and Margaery stroked at his blonde hair, one leg rising in an arch. The ground was slightly uncomfortable beneath her, cushioned only by her dress, but she too felt a sense of contentment.

Another chance for an heir, and another step forward for Tommen...or so she hoped.


End file.
