kings and queens
Renly, Margaery, Robb.
648 words. PG.
Summary It's tempting; Loras has not touched him for weeks, not until he performs his duty with Margaery, and Robb Stark is handsome with his darkly red hair and battle-dirty skin. Renly would suddenly like very much to touch that skin, feel the muscle beneath.
Note: For![]()
rachel2205! I think I kind of deviated from your prompt a bit, lol, but I hope you enjoy it!
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"A deal?" Renly says doubtfully.
"A deal," Robb Stark says. "The North an independent land again, myself its ruler. The South can be yours. An alliance."
The weight of the crown is heavy on Renly's head, literally if not figuratively. "I would see this kingdom remain unified," he says.
"We shall," Robb says. "Ruled separately but partnered, with no animosity between us."
Margaery slides a glance at Robb Stark but curls her hand around Renly's elbow. "Forgive me, my lord, but I think it's not a bad idea." Her gaze turns back to him, eyes as sharp as shards of glass, just as blue.
This is how it begins, an amiable agreement watered by wine, urged along by sharp-eyed Margaery. Later Renly will think he was ignorant not to notice, not to see – but he's been too busy looking outside his marriage bed to see the other man who has slipped into it.
"You have nothing to fear, my lord," Margaery says softly. For someone caught huddled beneath Robb Stark's fur-lined cloak, she shows surprisingly little fear of the consequences. The wolf king himself is more abashed, head hung, honor tarnished.
"No, I don't," Renly says, all bluster, "You, on the other hand –"
Margaery explains to him over several soft-voiced minutes, her fingers gentle around his wrist, that it had only been a handful of kisses, nothing more, and she thought he would be pleased, that it could be the very perfect thing to cement both the alliance and their much more personal union.
Renly sighs in annoyance. "My dear, what are you talking about?"
Margaery smiles, a slow and curling smile, and the heretofore silent Robb Stark goes crimson and Renly very suddenly realizes exactly what she's talking about.
Dazed, he thinks what a girl he'd married.
It's tempting; Loras has not touched him for weeks, not until he performs his duty with Margaery, and Robb Stark is handsome with his darkly red hair and battle-dirty skin. Renly would suddenly like very much to touch that skin, feel the muscle beneath.
But he finds it all rather difficult to believe. He turns to Robb, says doubtfully, "And you agree with her?"
Robb is still appealingly red in the face and says, with that Northern gruffness, "Yes."
Renly is uncertain in all the ways Margaery isn't; she sits in the center of his bed with queenly posture and her dress sliding from her shoulders. Her smile is playful and for the first time Renly sees something like that emotion in Robb's serious face, an answering grin both boyish and sweet. But he doesn't make a move towards Margaery, uncertain like Renly is, hanging back.
"I haven't," Robb Stark says suddenly, seeming very much the youth he is, all fumbling, "I have not -"
"Perhaps my lord can put you at ease," Margaery says, glancing at Renly. Renly raises eyebrows at her that she raises right back.
Robb looks at him, blue eyes wide and almost innocent – in a way Loras had never been, nor Margaery. He's had more victories than Renly could claim, lives a rough and difficult life of rough and difficult choices but he's turned shy here. So Renly kisses him, because Robb is handsome enough that he ought to be kissed and because Renly hasn't really kissed anyone in weeks. Robb is a king and a soldier and so shyness is set aside quickly; he grips Renly with rough hands and kisses like he speaks, straightforward and direct. Renly can understand why his wife likes to kiss Robb.
As though summoned by the thought of her, Margaery clears her throat. When they turn to look at her, she says with great amusement, "My gods, between the two of you am I to find no pleasure tonight?"
Robb laughs, and Renly is caught by the sound of it, so much so that he smiles too.
Renly, Margaery, Robb.
648 words. PG.
Summary It's tempting; Loras has not touched him for weeks, not until he performs his duty with Margaery, and Robb Stark is handsome with his darkly red hair and battle-dirty skin. Renly would suddenly like very much to touch that skin, feel the muscle beneath.
Note: For
rachel2205! I think I kind of deviated from your prompt a bit, lol, but I hope you enjoy it!
"A deal?" Renly says doubtfully.
"A deal," Robb Stark says. "The North an independent land again, myself its ruler. The South can be yours. An alliance."
The weight of the crown is heavy on Renly's head, literally if not figuratively. "I would see this kingdom remain unified," he says.
"We shall," Robb says. "Ruled separately but partnered, with no animosity between us."
Margaery slides a glance at Robb Stark but curls her hand around Renly's elbow. "Forgive me, my lord, but I think it's not a bad idea." Her gaze turns back to him, eyes as sharp as shards of glass, just as blue.
This is how it begins, an amiable agreement watered by wine, urged along by sharp-eyed Margaery. Later Renly will think he was ignorant not to notice, not to see – but he's been too busy looking outside his marriage bed to see the other man who has slipped into it.
"You have nothing to fear, my lord," Margaery says softly. For someone caught huddled beneath Robb Stark's fur-lined cloak, she shows surprisingly little fear of the consequences. The wolf king himself is more abashed, head hung, honor tarnished.
"No, I don't," Renly says, all bluster, "You, on the other hand –"
Margaery explains to him over several soft-voiced minutes, her fingers gentle around his wrist, that it had only been a handful of kisses, nothing more, and she thought he would be pleased, that it could be the very perfect thing to cement both the alliance and their much more personal union.
Renly sighs in annoyance. "My dear, what are you talking about?"
Margaery smiles, a slow and curling smile, and the heretofore silent Robb Stark goes crimson and Renly very suddenly realizes exactly what she's talking about.
Dazed, he thinks what a girl he'd married.
It's tempting; Loras has not touched him for weeks, not until he performs his duty with Margaery, and Robb Stark is handsome with his darkly red hair and battle-dirty skin. Renly would suddenly like very much to touch that skin, feel the muscle beneath.
But he finds it all rather difficult to believe. He turns to Robb, says doubtfully, "And you agree with her?"
Robb is still appealingly red in the face and says, with that Northern gruffness, "Yes."
Renly is uncertain in all the ways Margaery isn't; she sits in the center of his bed with queenly posture and her dress sliding from her shoulders. Her smile is playful and for the first time Renly sees something like that emotion in Robb's serious face, an answering grin both boyish and sweet. But he doesn't make a move towards Margaery, uncertain like Renly is, hanging back.
"I haven't," Robb Stark says suddenly, seeming very much the youth he is, all fumbling, "I have not -"
"Perhaps my lord can put you at ease," Margaery says, glancing at Renly. Renly raises eyebrows at her that she raises right back.
Robb looks at him, blue eyes wide and almost innocent – in a way Loras had never been, nor Margaery. He's had more victories than Renly could claim, lives a rough and difficult life of rough and difficult choices but he's turned shy here. So Renly kisses him, because Robb is handsome enough that he ought to be kissed and because Renly hasn't really kissed anyone in weeks. Robb is a king and a soldier and so shyness is set aside quickly; he grips Renly with rough hands and kisses like he speaks, straightforward and direct. Renly can understand why his wife likes to kiss Robb.
As though summoned by the thought of her, Margaery clears her throat. When they turn to look at her, she says with great amusement, "My gods, between the two of you am I to find no pleasure tonight?"
Robb laughs, and Renly is caught by the sound of it, so much so that he smiles too.