[Musebox] - Resurrection

[thekittenqueen]

Continued from here.

Margaery knew Littlefinger and what he was capable of. The man had the good sense to avoid the former queen and alert her to his presence. He had always been a shrewd figure and likely understood that if Margaery knew he was about, she would likely have several stories to share about him. He was hardly the sort fit to spend time with Sansa and his influence on the young woman was pronounced. There was a quality to her that was no longer as compassionate as before. She was self serving, seeking power with reckless abandon, all with unclear ends. She had a smile now that could not be trusted, seemingly masking thoughts beneath the surface. While Margaery had missed her friend, it was with grim understanding that she recognized that her friend was gone. Someone else had taken her place.

It would take time for Margaery to learn all of the noble lords that served the Starks. Her education had included the make up of each of the bannermen to the great houses of Westeros, but that knowledge had been lost along the line, disappearing like a stone dropping beneath the surface of a pool. There had been greater thinks occupying her mind and, only now, did she realize that she had become lax with her skills for the game.

As much as she didn't want to, she would need to spend time below with the men and the forces of the Stark army. It would grant her the chance to observe and analyze those that gathered about her lover. She could read into the hearts of men and would find the means to learn their motivations, singling out those who could be trusted and those who couldn't. It was dangerous, as all of her scheming had once been, but there was more to lose now. It was no longer her life or her family's, it was a life she shared with another, the other part of her.

She feels the warmth he exudes and curls around it, basking under his affection and the glow of their earlier efforts. Despite the swirling lust, she found herself floating along the surface of bliss and contentment. It had been so long since such feelings coursed through her, for a moment, she had nearly mistaken them for something else. He carries her gently against the tide of her apathy and sorrow, drawing her back under the warm sun until she is thawed and alive once more. His arms shelter her, a tree in the midst of a rainstorm. He is her godswood and she would be devout to him in all ways, worshiping at his feet as they rutted like beasts, drawing their power from a more ancient magic. It was magnetic and addictive, but it was the source of her life now.

She considered his words, curiously trying to put a name to all that she felt. It seemed like a useless struggle, but there was something she wished to know. She was aware he shared the frenzied longing of her body, but there was something else as well, something rooted deeply inside her, past her heart and soul. She was bound to him, but didn't know how best to explain it. "I stir more than your cock, I believe?" Margaery asked, placing her hand over his heart. "It's more than that and I think that it is something..." it wasn't love. The word was paltry and pale compared to this, but how else could it be described? Such names didn't exist on the tongues of man. "Do you understand what it is?" She couldn't go into detail if he didn't. It was something that was simply known.

"Davos," her smile became one of amusement. "I think he is afraid of me or rather, doesn't know how to respond to my presence. I am too much a reminder of Stannis for him." He had at least been polite and kind, as had Tormund, though the Wildling didn't seem to have an idea of how to speak to her or how to behave. She wasn't a shield maiden and she imagined that he didn't want to frighten her off. They had good hearts and she hoped to open hers to them, if it ever truly could be.

"I speak of it because you might have to make the offer yourself." Margaery whispered, running her fingers through his hair. She hated to interrupt their love play with talk of politics and marriages, but there was no other time that they would be alone like this. Her opinion and advice would be dismissed by his men and she would gain their ire for interfering, but at least here, there was no one she would have to argue against. Jon would understand why she was offering it and how she might know better than the rest. She had three politically arranged marriages, after all. "If you make the offer, you will not make them feel as though they have to beg for aid. You are the stronger force with the larger kingdom." It would at least save them face before he flaunted a lover around his court.

Politics were left behind as their urges screamed back to life. Her hips subconsciously rolling against him as she sought the same friction he had wanted before. The stimulation against her sensitive sex bringing soft moans from her lips, as tender and gentle as a dove's coo. "I wouldn't deny you, as I might very well do the same." She was never a woman of such force before, but her body now cried out to be. She wanted to to pull him against a wall, free his cock from his breeches and rut happily for all to see. Modesty and decorum were simple, pretty words for those that didn't know what they wanted or how to enjoy it. She wasn't such a maiden anymore, she was as wild and untamed as he was and the desires they shared demanded immediate attention.

Yet she instead chose to toy with him, forcing him to remain seated and stationary as she explored her body with a cloth. The act of washing herself turning sensual and erotic as she cleaned away the places he marked her with lips, teeth and seed. She was wiping away the slate, indicating he would have to start all over again. "Am I yours?" Margaery asked with a wicked smile. "It seems that there are no signs left that I am." She was playing with fire and longed to be consumed by it, her flames and his inferno, swept up into the maddening blaze until she was burnt and broken by their passions.

He obeys her instructions, much to her chagrin and amusement. Given their earlier efforts, she had imagined he would break right away, but Jon seemed to be a man of remarkable will power. For the sake of pushing the game further, she moved close to him. Turning her back, she offered him the cloth. "You will have to wash where I cannot reach, but you cannot move from your chair or touch anywhere else." This would be enough, she was certain of it. She was pulling a string taught and sooner or later, it would snap in half and the force between them would smother them both.