GOT: Wolf Becomes Stag

With an annoyed expression, Robert glanced at the door. There was nobody scheduled to meet him anymore, yet the door was open and the little rose of Highgarden stood there. She wasn't tall, perhaps even shorter than Lynesse.

This was the first time Robert saw Margaery, and he gave a silent nod to her beauty. She was indeed one of the finest, but certainly not the one. Her charms were the trailing, soft curling brown locks and large brown eyes, and those thin smiling lips. She was slender but womanly, her chest not that endowed.

"Lady Margaery." Robert greeted her without standing up. "What brings you here?"

Margaery smiled brightly, baring her teeth as she strolled into the Small Council chamber. She looked at the surroundings with keen interest, dreaming of the power that was held within that room.

"I regretted not meeting you last time, Your Grace. This time, a chance like this is too precious to let slip away," Margaery answered and stepped closer to Robert, beside his chair. But she continued to shift against the edge of the table until she finally stood right in front of Robert, between his chair and the table.

Sounds as desperate as her mother. Robert sneered inside while remaining stoic outside.

She stood so close to him that he could smell her rose-scented fragrance. Her dress was also interesting, a pale green samite gown with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the top of her bosom, making her small breasts spill out of the wide-necked gown.

She came here to seduce me? Robert had no doubt about it. She was dressed like a whore desperate for some coin. Trying to showcase her charms and assets when she had none.

"It was nice meeting you, my lady."

"I…" Margaery sensed the meeting was coming to an end. She panicked. "I-I will bear you strong and beautiful children, Your Grace."

Robert chuckled and responded with a savage grin. "Right now? Well, we do have a sizable table to use."

####

Remember, Robert is a sex-crazed savage. Show him some skin and lure him with the possibility of getting what any man would want from you. You'll have him wrapped between your fingers and legs easily.

A few moments ago, Margaery remembered her grandmother's words just as she walked into the Small Council chamber. Right before her was the imposing behemoth of a King in the chair. She felt nervous suddenly, and all her confidence started to drain away.

The air inside the room was warm, and the King's gaze felt oppressive. She forgot all that Olenna had taught her. All she remembered was that she was to wed this man no matter what. No matter the price.

"Right now? Well, we do have a sizable table to use."

Margaery gulped, and her eyes narrowed at the King's loins. She truly felt how different their size was. The man was sitting relaxed and yet his face reached her shoulders. His broad shoulders could eclipse her entirely, and his fleshy belly bulged over the belt around the waist.

I… I must. I must become the Queen.

"I-If that is what Your Grace wishes." She ended up agreeing to the King's demand. Table, chair, or even the floor, nothing mattered as long as his seeds reached her womb. "I will…"

"Seven hells!" Robert grunted suddenly and his arm reached for Margaery's waist. With a single tug, he pulled the slender beauty onto his lap, landing her sideways on his thighs. He supported her back with one arm, and his free hand traced her jaw.

"If I sought strong and beautiful heirs, I'd take Dacey Mormont to my bed, not a fragile rose like you, Lady Margaery. So tell me, why should I choose you over her?"

"I will…" Margaery froze, lost in mind. But it was more than that. The King's strong arms wrapped her back so easily that his palm curled around and landed on the side of her breasts. His other hand had gone below her face and was tracing her necklace, but that meant his hand also touched her overflowing bosom from the bodice.

But it all paled in comparison to what she felt between her delicate, soft bottom. The thickness, the size, the warmth.

"Speak, Lady Margaery."

"I will… I will be obedient, dutiful, loyal, submissive, and loving."

Robert's chuckle resounded as he shook her light body a little. She felt his hardened heat underneath. Not to mention, the way he took the liberty in the name of checking her necklace. She felt his rough palm against her smooth, unblemished skin.

"You think I can't have any other woman do the same, Margaery?"

N-No, what should I do? He'll leave in the morning for the North. No! What if he marries the Mormont woman there?

"I-I'll make love to you whenever and wherever you want, Your Grace. I'll submit myself to you with all my being. I would bear your heirs and welcome your affections, no matter the place—on this table, upon the chair, pressed against that wall, or even upon your Iron Throne. My heart and body are yours to love."

Ah! She felt his hardness throb underneath.

"You can feel it, can't you?"

Margaery nodded shyly. "Y-You are gifted with a giant's strength, Your Grace."

"And you think you can hold and endure it inside you?"

Her eyes widened slightly as she felt it grow even more. She looked at Robert's face with worry. Worried that he might take her right there and then if she agreed. There was a lot of hesitation.

"P-Perhaps in the bedchamber?"

Robert shook his head, however. "Fragile flower, as I said. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Margaery."

"Ah!" She found her body lifted in the air all of a sudden in a princess carry. But before she could even react, the King placed her on the table in a sitting position.

Oh no! No, no! He's leaving.

Margaery's heart sank at Robert's fleeting sight. "Please! What can I do to win your favor, Your Grace?"

Clack!

Robert's hand stopped from opening the door. His head turned sideways, eyes on Margaery on the table. "Marriage is a sacred union, Lady Margaery. A queen is not merely a title; she carries the weight of responsibility—Not only to bear the King's heir but to earn his deepest trust. Trust that he won't be betrayed and backstabbed. I saw fear in your eyes, fear of having me between your legs on that table—Where is this trust we speak of?"

H-He's different. Margaery felt it at that moment. She offered unrestricted access to her body to this supposed sex crazed savage. Yet, nothing happened. Grandmother was wrong.

"H-How long do I have to earn that trust, Your Grace?"

"Hah, Fear not. I won't wed anyone in the North yet. You have time aplenty, and when I return, there will be more than enough chances for us to meet." Robert's response came and he finally opened the door.

"Let's go, it's time for supper."

Margaery nervously got down from the table and meekly followed behind Robert. Constantly, she stared at his tall, broad back. The very idea of being one with this man made her heart race and mind panic.

If that is savage, then I'm Visenya Targaryen.

Her faith in her grandmother was truly tested that evening.

Although things didn't go as planned, she felt that they went better than expected. The King was willing to give her a real chance, at least. It was better than being left in confusion.

But how do I win his heart and trust?

####

Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

It was late at night, the air was soothing. At the top of one of the castle towers, Tywin stood and watched the distant Lannisport beneath. It was eerily empty that night, with much of the activities halted for the dock's maintenance.

But it was all a ruse.

"My Lord, the ships have left for the Iron Islands." Kevan Lannister arrived and reported. "No one saw it."

Tywin nodded, staring at the port for a very long time before uttering something. "Our name must not be sullied by this. Let the North be his grave, and his bones be forgotten."

Kevan approached his brother's side. "What of the Throne?"

"Let it rot."

Tywin sneered towards the King's Landing's direction and left.

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