Personally, I was not inspired by this custom. And Margaery, apparently, did not feel warmly about it either. Therefore, Lord Tywin initiative, when we were surrounded by the Royal Guards led by Jaime, we welcomed with relief.
At first, a few people allowed themselves to whistle in disappointment and even loudly express their dissatisfaction with such a violation of tradition. But Lord Tywin's cold gaze and Lady Olenna's piercing stare, coupled with the imposing, steadfast presence of the Kingsruards, quickly cooled the overheated heads.
The people resigned themselves, though they had no intention of ending the fun. The crowd, shouting and drinking as they moved, surrounded us and began escorting us. People laughed, made dirty jokes about how—and how many times—I was expected to perform, and sang the song "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown."
We walked. I held Margaery's hand and felt her palm and wrist trembling lightly. We were led through the corridors, shadows from the torches dancing across the walls and ceiling.
And so we reached my—and now our—shared chambers. Kingsruards quickly inspected the entire room, and the servants placed several dishes of food and jugs of wine on the table.
Ser Josib, already completely out of his mind, with Rob's help, poured a little wine from each jug, mixed it all in one cup, and drank it.
Then he simply collapsed on the floor. The drunken men picked up his unconscious body with satisfied shouts and unceremoniously dragged him out into the corridor by his feet. The servants extinguished the candles, leaving us only the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
Marge and I were left alone. Behind the doors, we could still hear drunken shouting and laughter, which, in theory, should "cheer us on."
The girl stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with her hands—she clenched and unclenched her fingers, fiddled with her handkerchief, and looked at me with shining, uncertain eyes.
I slowly approached her.
"Margaery…" I let my fingers sink into her hair, and with a steady, unhurried certainty, met her gaze before claiming her lips in a deliberate, lingering kiss.
Our kiss lasted a long time—we were in no hurry.
Cicadas sang outside the windows. The stars twinkled mysteriously. A light breeze rustled the thin curtains almost imperceptibly. It smelled of summer and celebration. The night showered us with its magic and enchantment.
We kissed, caressing each other through our clothes. Our breathing quickened, and I began to untie her corset—damn it! It took me quite a while to understand what was what, to find all the bows, undo the lacing, and deal with the numerous hooks.
At the same time, I took off my own clothes—but this was much easier.
Margaery closed her eyes and surrendered her whole body to my touch, only occasionally opening her eyelids to give me deep, mesmerizing looks.
I picked her up gently and carried her to the bed. She lay on her back, took a deep breath, and pulled my head to her chest.
I allowed my hands to be bolder and felt her breasts, her firm nipples rising beneath my palm. I kissed them, and the girl moaned softly. The sound shot through me like lightning, electrifying every nerve.
My lips sealed her parted, yielding mouth, pressing every part of myself against her.
My right hand slid over her body, over her satin-smooth skin, and I felt how wet she was below. I began to caress her there, and Margaery moaned even louder…
I deliberately took my time, doing everything slowly, gently, trying my best to ensure the girl would remember this night for the rest of her life.
After a while, I found myself above her. All of her—her flesh, her arms, legs, hair shimmering like silk—yielded to a single impulse and responded with equal passion. And when we joined together, Margaery gasped, stiffened for a moment, jerked from the pain, but in the next heartbeat she leaned forward forcefully toward me and wrapped her long legs around my hips.
I tried to keep at least a shred of calm and confidence in my mind. But Joffrey's body—young and inexperienced—was clearly not yet ready for long-distance running.
The movements became faster. Margaery pressed herself more firmly and more eagerly against me, and finally, it was over for me.
"Joff…" A moment later, Margaery nearly cried out my name. Her arms spread out, gripping the sheets with force. She arched her back, froze for a moment, and then collapsed. Only our hoarse breathing broke the silence of the night.
We lay there, fused so tightly, pressed so closely to each other with such passion that no force could have separated us in that moment.
I could hear her heart pounding loudly. And mine beat in unison with hers.
I rolled onto my right side and looked at the girl with delight. The moonlight filtering through the shutters and curtains gently outlined all her young body.
Her small, rounded breasts with cherry-like nipples, her firm stomach, her long, cool legs like smooth rivers. And the darkened area below her stomach, drawing the eye irresistibly. The girl smelled of fruit and a faint hint of floral perfume.
I looked at her, admired her, couldn't get enough. I was burning—and could not burn out.
"Joff," she moved closer, pressed her face against my neck, and whispered, "I never thought it could be like this."
"Yes, my dear, me neither," I murmured, pushing her away slightly only to kiss her. Her tender lips responded at once, and we were carried again on the waves of love.
Some time passed. I was lying on my side once more, watching her. My left hand continued to caress her breast softly, but without the same passion as before. Now my touch no longer evoked such explosive reactions—we both wanted a short break.
"How did that happen?" I asked quietly, kissing her on the nose.
She immediately understood what I meant, moved closer, threw her leg over my thigh, and said calmly, as if recalling a distant memory:
"Renly was never interested in me. He only wanted men."
"But did you try?"
"Of course. But he couldn't do it… Actually, once he suggested that I join him and Loras. To do it as a threesome…"