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King's Landing had not truly suited Daenerys when she was half-welcome there, and it suited her even less in the time that had followed Ned Stark's execution. He had been her only protector (and perhaps a grudging one at that) and his guardianship of her the only thing keeping her from being turned fully into the pawn she so dreaded being. It wasn't, she supposed, quite so horrible as the situation poor Sansa found herself in: she had gone through as many horrible things as balanced out the lovely ones she'd been promised when her family was still in the Baratheons' and Lannisters' good graces. She had never been in anyone's good graces, she had been in part a prisoner from the start, now the keys had just been given to a different, admittedly crueler, jailer.

It had always been hers to be polite and demure and apologetic, prove that her blood did not define her loyalty. It had always been hers to pretend where that loyalty did lie (and she had never truly been bothered by the Starks, they had always been, if not warm, then decent to her, but the withering glances she got at court -- to say nothing of the wild-eyed lustful ones -- were not a surprise either, and were not so hard to deflect). She had always been treated with suspicion, she had always been moved around. The talk nowadays was of marrying her off to a lord of the Lannisters' choosing, someone true to them who would temper any mild rebellious instincts that may appear (Lord Eddard had always been wary of allowing this, but now he could not stop it).

Until she was played, though, she stayed at court with the others. She wasn't often allowed to be properly alone, and she wasn't often allowed to keep private company with Sansa (who knew what they, daughters of a traitor and a madman, would dream up if unsupervised). She wasn't pampered (she was never pampered) but she wasn't kept uncomfortably. She also wasn't ignorant, though she was good at playing that up. As such, she knew it was only a matter of time before she received an invitation to be entertained by the new queen-to-be, the lithe and beautiful Rose of Highgarden.

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"You, I like you," she answered automatically before realizing that this wasn't perhaps the answer Daneerys was seeking from her. Margaery bit her lip and let her hands touch soft skin and then she told her, "You are pleasing me, already. You don't need to do anything more than that, than be yourself with me."

But perhaps she'd meant some guidance? "My hair, my breasts, your fingers and tongue on my body until I shudder from want..."

She moved her legs open, wrapping them with Daenerys' legs too. "Anything you wish."

Immediately, one of Daenerys' hands moved to Margaery's breast, thumbing her nipple slowly and gently, and she lifted her head to press lips to Margaery's throat. "Like this?" she whispered, smiling coyly.

"I should say," she added after a moment, "that I... I like you as well. Very much. You're beautiful and, and... enchanting."

She wasn't sure quite if that was the appropriate thing to say, but she couldn't help it.

Margaery groaned as soon as Daenerys began playing with her breast enough that she arched into her hand, the tips turning into sharp points and then...

"Seven hells," she whispered as she felt lips against her throat and Margaery wondered exactly how much experience Daenerys had at this, after all.

She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly (not that anyone would likely hear), and then smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "As are you, and... oh..."

It must be true what they say about Daenerys and her ability to turn anyone she wants under her spell. Of course, Margaery didn't wish to be anywhere else.

Daenerys knew the rumors. She was, depending on the storyteller, any variant of coy seductress versed in all manner of things, a not-quite-just-human temptress with all the mystery and allure of her Valyrian blood. These rumors were naturally untrue, in that she was much less wanton and worldly, but to know that Margaery felt her so-called draw would flatter her.

"Oh," Daenerys agreed. She rutted against Margaery lightly, biting her own lip before leaning to bite Margaery's shoulder. "Is that...?"

She blinked her eyes, trying to understand exactly what it was that Daenerys was asking her. Once Margaery figured it out, she smiled and cupped Daenerys' face, nodding.

"Oh... oh yes it is."

And truly, did anything else need to be said other than that?

Daenerys nodded before she moved to nip at Margaery's shoulder once more, then let her mouth trail up Margaery's neck, placing kisses and occasionally gentle nips along the skin.

She'd been looking for a way to please Margaery, so she would be eager to hear how this would serve.

"You honor me," she whispered.

Margaery shook her head at her. "No... I'm afraid it's the other way 'round."

She groaned and moved her body each time Daenerys left little trails of fire on her skin, wet and teasing, and then her hands tried to hold onto Daenerys or the bedsheets or something else to keep her from writhing far too much as her eyes shut tightly in pleasure.

And she had not even nipped at her lips, breasts, or any other sensitive skin yet...

"Perhaps it could be both?" she offered with a faint smile. That seemed an important element to her, mutuality.

She took a deep breath before she angled to move her attentions down Margaery's body, over her collarbone and toward her breasts. She felt that charge, too, that heat that coursed through them both, and she wanted more of it. She didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Gods, Daenerys, yes," she hissed out in pleasure and Margaery's hands sought Daenerys' hair or head or anything she could possibly use to hang on for support.

She was biting her lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but gave up finally and begged, "Please" when she felt her wet lips move toward her own breasts. She needed to feel her mouth surrounding them.

Normally, Margaery would love to be the one in control but there was something... special about this sort of give-and-take instead.

Give-and-take was the only thing Daenerys knew, when it came to lovemaking; the little sorts of things that showed that even if one party was in control the other could and would take over soon. Both of them looking out for the other's interest.

She hummed against the dip between Margaery's breasts, nuzzling for a moment before she turned her attention to the curve of one, licking over it and kissing, gently and then not so very gentle at all.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for sharing your beauty with me."

Her hands were tangled into the silvery hair and she pulled on them, then pressed Daenerys against her breasts as she arched her back so she could get more of her mouth.

Margaery could not help the hiss that left her lips when Daenerys' attentions became not-so-gentle. "Oh... yes..."

She loved a little bit of pain mixed with pleasure, and Daenerys was providing that in spades. "Seven hells, yes, please, more..."

Margaery's fingers tightened in her hair again. "Thank you..." She wasn't sure for what, entirely, but she knew she needed to at least thank her.

Daenerys moaned, nipping at Margaery's flesh and running her tongue all over it, savoring the sweet taste. "You're impeccable," she murmured before she even had a chance. "Your skin is so..."

But whatever it was, Daenerys apparently took some pleasure in altering it, calling up a flush and leaving little marks all over. Carefully, of course, but very definitely.

"Ah..." was all Margaery could say once she felt the marks on her skin, smiling and loving the very thought that she would have reminders of this moment with Daenerys on her body.

"More," she nearly growled in response, her fingers tightening in her hair as she bucked upward against Daenerys each time her lips touched a new spot.

Then she felt bad for a moment and hastily added, "Please."

Oh, Daenerys was being careful with her marks -- she knew how many of Margaery's dresses were cut, and knew to avoid marking places that might be seen, but she was getting a bit drunk on the power of leaving spots on Margaery's flawless skin.

"Of course," she breathed out, insistent and sweet around Margaery's nipple. "Many more."

She nodded her head and hissed at the feeling, not because it hurt overly much but because they were from Daenerys. She might have said her name a few times, and soon enough Margaery was bucking against her, needing more.

"Please... lower," she asked, because Daenerys' soft tongue and insistent mouth were driving her mad.

The request caught Daenerys off-guard, and she couldn't help but to stare up in awe. "Lower," she repeated, gazing down Margaery's body.

She didn't want to be a disappointment. That was what she wanted the very least in the world at this moment.

It was the last thing Margaery wanted as well, so when it seemed that Daenerys did not wish to do it, then she held her face in her hands and licked her lips.

"Never... never mind, it's quite alright if you don't want to, it's only that you feel so amazing doing everything and I suppose I'm rather selfish in wanting more from you. Forgive me, please?"

"No!" Daenerys exclaimed, a bit too quickly. "It isn't -- you don't need to ask my forgiveness. I..."

A sigh. She wasn't used to admitting vulnerability and meaning it; if she did, it was more often than not a defense mechanism, not a genuine confession. But right now, that seemed important.

"I only hesitate because I don't know if I would be able to please you so," she finally added, her voice all but a whisper.

A frown crossed her face, but it was gone in an instant and Margaery pulled Daenerys to her lips for a brief kiss.

"You please me greatly, Daenerys. I've no idea why you think you don't, but seven hells, you do. I'm the one who is worried about pleasing you properly."

She let her face go and brushed aside a silver strand of hair gently. "Let's trust each other now."

"I only meant..." She sighed, sure she was pinker than anything else had made her. "I haven't the experience that you do. With... that, with kissing lower."

After all, her only sexual experience previous to this had been with someone who, though lovely, was very definitely not a woman. It was a different skillset, she assumed.

"But," she added, eyes brightening, "I would like that. Trusting."

Oh.

Margaery smiled and nodded her head. "Let me show you, then."

She switched positions with her, then spread Daenerys' legs open. Maergery let her tongue slide down her skin, lower until she could spread open her flesh and then flattened her tongue to rub against the softness to taste her.

"Gods," Daenerys gasped out. She let herself luxuriate in that feeling a minute, that feeling she was already growing addicted to, and then sat up abruptly.

"Let me try," she demanded. "I don't want to be selfish."

She licked her lips and relished the taste of Daenerys in her mouth, but moved to accommodate her request (was it truly a request, she wondered with a smile?).

"Of course," she panted, "though I would never call you selfish.I will tell you, though, that you taste absolutely divine..."

At this point, no, it wasn't a request, it was Daenerys' complete insistence on giving back what she'd been given. This was quite plainly the most pleasant time she'd had in this city, possibly at all, and she both wanted to find ways to continue it and wanted to make it even better still.

So very carefully she leaned to trail her lips down over Margaery's belly, looking up with wide eyes.

She nodded and her fingers curled into the silvery hair, guiding Daenerys and also comforting her, in a way. To let her know that yes, she was doing well and yes, this was what Margaery wanted.

Daenerys was quite possibly the only person Margaery truly wanted. She was not happy with Joffrey as a suitor -- that was political and he was a monster. She secretly hoped something terrible would befall him. Sansa was the only other one who had been kind to her without wishing anything in gain.

Daenerys wanted nothing nor sought anything. For this alone, she was someone honest -- something rare in Margaerys life, and she wanted to keep her closer. "Yes, please," she whispered again before adding, "You're so beautiful."