The Wizard of Fury Chapter 24

AN: This was originally intended to be two chapters but I felt that you all deserved a single long one for your patience and continued support of this series.

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The Great Hall was rife with laughter and merriment as the feast was underway. Singers and musicians had been brought in and played throughout the cavernous hall, their sounds echoing about and creating a discordant hymn that would be grating were it not for the lively conversations drowning it out. Heavy casks of wine lined the edges of the halls with eager servants ready to refill any flagons that looked to be getting low. Servers came through with various dishes organised into a series of courses. It began simple with creamy soups and roasted vegetables before fillets of fish and skewers of fowl arrived.

Another platter of whitefish and black bread was set upon Harry’s table as Margaery let out a delicate laugh that sounded far better than the music playing around them.

“Surely you jest,” she said as she shook her head back and forth, letting her brown curls bounce around her pretty face. “No man would ever dive that far underwater for such a trinket.”

“It was important to Lady Marya that the first gift her husband gave her wasn’t lost at sea of all places,” Harry laughed freely. “Ser Davos would never let her live it down, not after all of the horrible storms he’s managed to sail through. A bit of choppy water being his wife’s bane would’ve seemed like a cruel twist of fate.”

“But how did you even manage to find something as small as a silver brooch underwater?” Margaery asked, leaning forward across the table towards him in interest. “Doesn’t it get quite dark down there?”

“It does,” Harry nodded. “But a faint streak of light managed to catch the brooch’s reflection.”

That was a lie, of course, but he wasn’t about to tell her that he’d managed to make the tips of his fingers illuminate with his wandless magic.

“Magnificent,” Margaery said, exhaling loudly. “I must say that it sounds like you’ve had so many wonderful experiences these past few years.”

“One could almost suggest that they beggar belief,” Ser Loras commented snidely from his sister’s side.

“Loras,” Margaery chastised him sharply.

“You could always come and visit Dragonstone, Ser Loras, and experience some of these wonders yourself,” Harry said evenly. He had no desire to rise to Loras’ sarcastic comments. From everything that Harry had ever seen of him, Loras was a hothead who was always ready for a scrap. At the very least, his reputation with a blade seemed to be well warranted. As skilled as Harry was with one, he was unsure if he’d be able to best him in a duel.

“I’ve heard that the island has little to it beyond an austere castle,” Loras snorted as he spooned a hefty haunch of venison onto his plate. “It would make for a dreary visit.”

“And how has Highgarden been in the years past?” Harry asked Margaery as he turned his attention back onto her. Loras was clearly annoyed at Harry not taking issue with his dismissive comments, but Margaery saved them from entering into another fight by speaking up.

“It’s been wonderful,” Margaery exclaimed happily. “This summer has treated us most well. Flowers seem to bloom from even the smallest cracks in the walls, and the gardens have become a marvel to behold. Your own great uncle, Lord Alester Florent, and his family came to visit us only a few moons past. He seemed quite taken with Highgarden’s beauty.”

“I hope to see it for myself one day,” Harry said honestly. Dragonstone was his home now, but there were so many places throughout Westeros to see and explore. His lack of travel experiences growing up in Britain endeared him towards adventure.

“I’m certain that my father would be very pleased to have you visit,” Margaery told Harry.

“Indeed,” Willas added in. He was seated next to Harry, directly across from his brother. Further down the table, the older Tyrells sat in a cluster with Harry’s Uncle Renly at the core of them right beside Lady Olenna Tyrell. He was laughing happily at some jest being made at Lord Mace’s expense. “I understand that the animosity between our families has been well documented for some years now, but there is no reason that the tides could turn for the better.”

Harry wanted to believe Willas, truly he did. He trusted Margaery implicitly; their magical connection was nothing to disregard so easily, and it was clear that she wanted to become closer to him as he did with her. However, Willas was another matter entirely. He would be the Lord of Highgarden after his father passed, but while he seemed a kind-hearted man, there was the animosity of Loras to take into account. In a matter of conflict, what man would choose another over their own flesh and blood?

“Alas, the capital requires my presence for some time,” Harry grimaced. “The King requires my father’s presence as the Master of Ships, and I am to attend to him to learn the ways of governance.”

“Does he expect that you too will one day sit upon the small council?” Willas asked curiously. “I’d have expected a man as prudent as Lord Stannis to leave you behind at Dragonstone in order to better prepare you for your rule there one day.”

“He has deemed my preparation for such a task to be suitable,” Harry replied, only half lying. His father had plenty to criticise about the way Harry acted when it came to making decisions in regards to Dragonstone, but most of those were minor quibbles that were meant to make Harry think and reflect upon his choices rather than to act as a wholehearted rebuke of his decisions. “As for whether or not he expects that I may sit on the small council one day, who’s to say? I believe that his prudence is based upon the belief that it’s better to be trained in a skill and have no use for it than to find oneself in the opposite scenario.”

“A wise decision then,” Willas nodded. “As you’ll be in King’s Landing for some time, do you intend to take part in the tourney? I would, though I fear that my last attempt at a joust left me a little worse for wear.”

Willas tapped on his leg brace with a small smile on his lips, and Harry suddenly felt bad about questioning his character either. In that moment, pointing out his obvious disfigurement with no issue or embarrassment. Harry had heard the tale of how it came to be, of course. An unlucky case of his boot getting caught in his horse’s stirrups when he was knocked from it by Oberyn Martell, leading to his horse landing atop his leg and crushing it. Willas’ openness about this revealed more about him than any of Harry’s previous notions could account for.

“I will be,” Harry confirmed. “The lists and the melee.”

Jousting reminded Harry of flying upon his broomstick in a more simplistic way, or perhaps upon Buckbeak. He still felt that same rush of adrenaline as wind coursed through his hair, but it wasn’t quite as freeing in the same way as flying was. Still, Harry was well trained in it.

The melee, however, was where Harry knew he’d truly shine. His skills with a blade were exceptional, even by his father’s standards. Without a wand at his side, Harry knew that he needed to be able to defend himself. So, he’d trained diligently with the master-at-arms at Dragonstone, his great-uncle Ser Axell Florent. While he knew that he wasn’t the strongest man in Westeros or the most deft with a blade, he was a cut above all but the greatest swordsmen. At least, that’s what he told himself whenever he bested the many knights and even his own father in training.

It’d been a difficult decision to confirm that he was going to participate in these events. The mysterious person or persons behind the attack on his father’s life remained at large, and it was always possible that they’d come after Harry next. However, Harry saw no reason to wait around and chase at shadows. It was better to put himself out there, to give the attackers a chance at his life. At least then he might be able to see them coming and defend himself properly.

It was a risky gamble, he admitted, but when had he ever been adverse to those?

“Then I will see you in both,” Loras declared pridefully as he took a swig of wine. He stared down Harry over the lip of the glass. “As will my brother, Garlan.”

“It will be so nice to see Garlan again after his time away at Cider Hall,” Margaery interjected, trying to change the conversation from its bubbling antagonistic turn.

“He’s better with a blade than I am,” Loras continued, undeterred. “I do hope that we’ll encounter you in both the lists and the melee, Ser Harry.”

“Loras, please,” Margaery pleaded.

Harry remained quiet, watching as Loras bristled from Margaery’s attempts to cool his temper. Did Loras still truly hold a grudge over their conversation all those years ago at the Arbor? Or was this merely an extension of the animosity between their families that had begun during Robert’s Rebellion?

“We’ll be looking for you on the field,” Loras told Harry, danger implicit in his tone. “We’ll see how much of a stag you truly are when we knock you down and—”

“That is enough!” Willas snapped loudly.

Suddenly, everyone around them went quiet, and stares were being directed their way. Most of them seemed concerned, excluding some members of House Martell who simply looked amused at the entire thing. Oberyn especially looked happy to see the little quarrel. He raised one eyebrow at Harry.

“If you are going to act like a bickering child then you will be treated like one,” Willas told Loras quietly so that few could overhear. “Keep your head calm. Need I remind you that it is Lord Stannis who is in charge of the realm at this very moment?”

“If he is going to call upon his father to fight his battles for him—” Loras spat on the floor.

“Compose yourself,” Willas insisted.

A laughing voice rang out. “Is everyone getting along?”

Harry’s uncle, Renly, came swaggering over with a charismatic smile and his arms outstretched wide. The tension seemed to diffuse almost instantly as Loras simmered down and looked almost nervous at Renly’s approach. Everyone around them seemed to return to their own conversations, but there were still a few lingering eyes and ears upon them.

“We’re doing well, Lord Renly,” Willas said.

“Good,” Renly smiled, placing a hand on Loras’ shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, not an intimidating one. Loras looked up at Renly and an unspoken conversation took place between them that Harry couldn’t even begin to decipher. It was over in almost an instant though, and when Loras turned his eyes back onto Harry, the malice in them was subdued.

“My apologies, ser,” Loras said quietly to Harry.

“Forgiven and forgotten,” Harry said. “Uncle, how is my lord father doing?”

“Well enough for Stannis I suppose,” Renly said. “I must say that the capital has done wonders for his temperament.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“No,” Renly chuckled. “I’ve seen marginal improvements to be sure, but I think it’s more due to your influence than anything else. He’s quite proud of you, you know. I’m certain that he’ll be asking Ser Barristan for a full recounting of your adventures.”

“Harry was quite admirable when he came to rescue us.” Margaery smiled brightly at him as she told Renly that.

“I’ve seen him training in the yard, working with his men in a proper way,” Renly nodded in approval. “It’s surprising how unlike your father you are in that regard. He would offer little more than a stiff nod before getting to work, but you inspire the men around you. It’s a skill we all should value.”

The slight flex of Renly’s fingers on Loras’ shoulder indicated the secret message he was passing along to the younger man. Curious, Harry thought to himself. He wasn’t aware that his uncle was familiar with Loras.

“Indeed,” Willas nodded wisely.

“I should like to watch sometime,” Margaery told Harry. “If that’s alright, that is.”

“It may be a bit tiring to watch, my lady,” Harry said.

“I watch my brother’s practice all the time. I’m certain I will enjoy myself.”

Renly raised an eyebrow up at Harry and offered him the slightest smirk. Harry wasn’t daft; he could see the way that Margaery was latching onto him, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t enjoying the attention. Margaery was a beautiful woman now of eighteen, and their magical connection was undeniable. Harry knew that he was bound to be married off to someone at one point or another, as was tradition here in Westeros among the highborn. His efforts to dissuade his parents from finding a match for him had worked as of yet, but he knew that time was running short before they would find a bride they deemed suitable for him. As he was eighteen as well, Margaery could make for a suitable prospect.

On Dragonstone, there were few visitors who were of a standing that would match Harry’s status in Westeros. As the nephew of the king and a member of one of the great houses, Harry knew that he was destined to be matched with a daughter from one of the other ones or from another important house. There were daughters close to his age in Houses Penrose, Caron, Estermont, Tarth, and Wylde, and while Harry had met a few of them, none of them had sparked his interest the way others had.

He could still remember the love he bore for Cho Chang back at Hogwarts. Perhaps fancy was the better word to use. She was a very pretty girl, and she’d certainly aroused his interest. His feelings towards her were the benchmark that he used to judge any other potential partners in his life, and the only one who’d driven a similar feeling within him was Margaery Tyrell.

No, that was a lie. There was someone else he’d felt something with—

“Perhaps you should give Lady Margaery a tour around the Red Keep,” Renly suggested to Harry.

Shaking his thoughts out of his mind, Harry felt his heart begin to race as Margaery smiled prettily at him. They would have a chance to be alone for the first time in years, ever since that night on the terrace at Vinehall.

“At this hour?” Willas asked in slight concern.

“It is safe with the guards upon the ramparts,” Renly assured him. “The sun is only just beginning to set, and given the proclivities of several of the guests here tonight, I expect that the evening’s celebrations will be going on for some time yet. They can wander off and return all in good time.”

Before Harry so much as had an opportunity to say anything, Margaery intervened.

“I’d love to go see the Red Keep,” she said, her eyes brimming with genuine intrigue. “I’ve heard so many grand tales about this place.”

“Many of them ghastly,” Willas commented wisely. The many deaths within this place were not foreign to Harry, nor were the tales of what King Maegor the Cruel did to those poor souls who finished the construction of the secret passageways and private details of this castle.

“If any trouble should befall them, I’m certain that my nephew would be more than up to the task of defending Lady Margaery,” Renly pointed out. “If you wish to remain by their side, I’m certain that they’d be happy to welcome your company.”

It was impossible for Willas to try to argue against the first point after he’d seen Harry in action defending his family from an overwhelming number of bandits. As for the latter, Harry could see that Willas was considering going with them. Margaery hadn’t exactly been subtle in her interest in Harry, and he was sure that Willas knew what so often happened when a man and a woman who were attracted to one another ended up off on their own. Honestly, he was surprised that Loras was interjecting, but Renly seemed to have rendered the man virtually mute.

Eventually, Willas sighed. “Do take care, dear sister.”

“I will,” Margaery said as she leaned across the table and kissed her brother’s cheek. “We’ll return before long.”

Harry stood up from his seat. The moment he did, he felt his father’s piercing gaze upon him. When he too witnessed Margaery standing up, the look of disapproval on his face was clear to see.

“I’ll handle him,” Renly informed Harry in a hushed whisper across the table. “You’d do best not to leave a lady waiting.”

Seeing that Margaery was already making her way down to the end of the long table, Harry followed her down, watching her skirts swish back and forth with each step, seeing the cutout on the rear of dress which revealed the smooth skin of her back. She certainly knew how to make an enticing view.

The doors to the Great Hall were opened at Margaery’s approach. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, and with a sly look, slipped through the doorway and around the corridor.

Great, Harry thought to himself, they hadn’t even begun their tour and already she was playing games with him.

He picked up his pace and hurried ahead through the doorway into the wide corridor that stretched beyond. He looked right and saw nothing, then left and caught the briefest glimpse of Margaery’s blue skirts disappearing around the next corner.

Cursing under his breath, Harry gave chase, running towards the corner.

The moment he rounded it, a pair of hands grabbed his doublet. He was about to hurl his body weight forward into his assailant to throw them off balance, only to stop when he saw Margaery’s face smiling up at him.

“I could’ve gotten attacked by some strange man after you left me alone out here,” she teased him.

Harry shook his head but couldn’t help the corners of his lips turning upwards. “You shouldn’t have ran off then.”

“You should’ve kept up with me,” Margaery countered. “Or is Ser Harry not as fit as I thought he was?”

“I’m plenty fit,” Harry replied. “And just for your little stunt, I’ll make sure that you can run off on me again.”

“What do you—MEAN?” Margaery squealed with laughter as Harry lifted her up into the air and slung her over his shoulder. It was a very ungentlemanly thing to do, but in the relative privacy of this corridor, Harry felt safe doing it. There were no servants about, and the sounds of the feast covered up most of the noise they made.

Harry chuckled as Margaery tried to squirm her way out of his grasp, but he kept a tight hold on her. “Now you can only go where I go.”

“You will let me down right this instant,” Margaery demanded, but the seriousness of her tone was undercut by her infectious laughter.

“Only if you promise not to run off on me again,” Harry countered.

Margaery tried one last manoeuvre that simply ended with one of her breasts squishing up against the side of his head briefly before he was able to readjust her back to the position he’d had her in.

“Fine,” Margaery huffed. “I promise.”

When he set her back down on her feet, Harry offered her a bright smile. “Would you like that tour now?”

“Fine,” Margaery pouted at him.

Harry offered Margaery his arm, which she took with grace before he began leading her out of the Great Hall and into the outer yard. The setting sun shone over the edge of the castle’s walls, faintly illuminating the many household staff of the Red Keep who were busy at work even at this hour. The Tower of the Hand loomed nearly, casting a shadow into the distant godswood.

“What would you care to see first, my lady?” Harry asked her.

“I would hardly know where to begin,” Margaery admitted. “Somewhere beyond here though. Have you found much of interest in the castle?”

“I’ve spent little time exploring it myself,” Harry explained. “With the attack upon my father… I was quite busy ruling in his stead.”

Margaery shivered and pulled herself closer to his side. Despite the manoeuvre, the air was still quite warm outside. “I cannot begin to imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sit atop that mass of melted blades. How did it feel to be sat up there, towering over everyone?”

Hard, Harry thought. He’d been a tad bit nervous at the start, but his mind had been preoccupied by the attack on his father. Once he was up on the throne and the petitioners began to make grand requests of him, Harry had naturally fallen into his lordly duty, something that had been drilled into him ever since he was a child. But it still hadn’t been easy turning down smallfolk who were desperate from a reprieve from whatever ailed them or to weigh conflicting views and opinions.

But a part of him had enjoyed the responsibility of it all. Growing up with Stannis Baratheon as his father had instilled a deep sense of responsibility to those beneath him within his frame of mind as he tackled any problem that came his way. It almost felt natural slipping into the life of a ruler. He enjoyed it.

“Is it that complicated?” Margaery asked with a small smile when he didn’t say anything for several seconds.

“Ruling isn’t easy,” Harry finally said. “But I enjoyed helping people, doing what felt right.”

“Like when you saved us.”

“Some people have said I have a bit of a saving-people thing.”

“I’m glad that you do,” Margaery said, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’d always hoped that we’d cross paths again one day. And to see you coming to my rescue… well, it’s every maiden’s dream, isn’t it?”

“My sister, Shireen, would certainly agree,” Harry smiled.

“Then, you know how maiden’s like to reward their rescuers, don’t you?”

Harry’s mouth felt like it was growing dry. He’d barely realised that he’d led Margaery underneath the portcullis and into the yard where the Maidenvault was, the residence that he and his father were staying at. He recognised Ser Gerald Gower standing guard alongside several of his family’s men-at-arms. They seemed to be on careful watch with all of the new people entering and leaving the Red Keep, but their eyes lit up upon seeing Harry.

Coming to a stop some distance away so that they remained out of earshot, Harry turned to Margaery. “You do understand that my father hates your family for what happened during Robert’s Rebellion.”

“I do,” Margaery said softly. “But that doesn’t stop how I feel about you. Does it stop how you feel about me?”

“No,” Harry admitted. Margaery… Harry was hard pressed to say if she was his first love or not. When they’d first met, she’d been young but mature for her age, but Harry had his fourteen-year-old mind inside of a younger body. He hadn’t exactly seen her in the way that he saw her now.

It’d been hard to keep her off of his mind ever since he rescued her from those bandits. The entire ride back to King’s Landing had him fraught with worry about another attack on her, one that could possibly succeed. He hadn’t felt that same level of fear for anyone else there, not even himself. And their chemistry together was wonderful. She was easy to talk to and impressively clever and knowledgeable on a wide range of topics. He felt at ease around her here.

He’d fancied Cho, but he hadn’t truly been in love with her. With Margaery… things felt far more serious.

“Then why hold back?” Margaery asked him sincerely. “I’ve dreamt of having you for years now. My father wouldn’t dare refuse our match if it was what made me happy. Would your father truly hold you back from me if we…”

“If we what?” Harry asked.

Margaery’s cheeks turned a touch pink. “If we wanted to be betrothed to one another?”

Harry’s eyes must’ve widened too much because Margaery quickly continued.

“If that’s what you want, of course.” The words tumbled out of her mouth so quickly that they bled into one another. “We’re both members of Great Houses; it only makes sense that we would be an appropriate match for each other. I’ve dreamt of being with you for years now.”

He hadn’t quite had those same dreams. In their correspondence by raven, he’d seen her start to mature as he did the same. Their letters to one another had created a familiarity, a closeness, but he’d still had the mental image of her as a younger girl. It wasn’t until he saw her in person again that that image was replaced with the Margaery he saw before him: a beautiful woman grown.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and held it to slow his racing heart. He knew that a betrothal was bound to happen sooner or later, but hearing it laid out so plainly by Margaery had surprised him. In some ways, he was still an outsider in this world. The two of them hadn’t even gone out on a single date! The courtship process simply worked differently here, and the reality was that Harry was going to have a lady-wife sooner rather than later in order to propagate his family’s line. And if he didn’t put forth a reasonable candidate, then his father would choose for him.

If he didn’t choose Margaery, then who?

The only name that popped into his mind was Arianne Martell, the strange woman he’d found a magical connection with earlier in the Great Hall. But he knew nothing about her save for the fact that she was the heir to Sunspear.

Trying to compare Arianne with Margaery seemed impossible at this time. Arianne was someone new with a strange mystique about her that left him intrigued, but that wasn’t much different to how he’d felt around Cho. He didn’t know exactly how he felt about her, but he did know how he felt about Margaery.

“A betrothal,” Harry repeated, testing the word out on his tongue. Margaery was looking up at him with hopeful eyes, holding her breath with nervous anticipation. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be betrothed to than you.”

Were it not for their audience, Harry was certain that Margaery would’ve kissed him right then and there. Her lips parted like she was ready to lean in, and her eyelashes batted several times.

“Will your father consent?” She asked him softly.

No, was Harry’s first thought. He knew the hatred his father held for the Tyrells. In a sense, Harry knew that he should be aggrieved with them as well. They’d nearly starved Storm’s End to death, ending the life of his parents and him as an infant… but they hadn’t succeeded. Perhaps Harry could somehow convince his father to accept a betrothal agreement between him and Margaery.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “It would take an awful lot of convincing.”

“I would help you in any way I could,” Margaery told him.

“I know,” Harry smiled. “But such things might be easier by my hand alone. I have a mutual respect with my father that may grant me an easier time in dealing with him.”

“Then I wish you well in your endeavour,” Margaery said. “I’d ask my father to begin drafting the agreement, but I fear that it may only irk Lord Stannis further.”

“I will speak with him on the matter on the morrow,” Harry promised Margaery. “One way or another, I will see to it that my father sees reason.”

“I’m glad,” Margaery beamed up at him.

Harry looked up at the Maidenvault again. The long building was quiet, with only guards standing within its walls. Margaery followed his gaze and examined the building.

“Is this where your rooms are?” She asked him in an all-too-innocent tone.

“They are,” Harry confirmed.”

Margaery tugged on his arm towards the Maidenvault. “Would you show me them?”

The offer was borderline explicit between her words and the fiery look in her eyes, and Harry was in no mood to turn her down.

“Of course, my lady.”

At their approach, his family’s men-at-arms spread out wide in a protective formation, leaving Ser Gerald alone at the door. His expression was blank underneath his helm, but Harry knew that there had to be countless thoughts and worries flowing through his mind at seeing Harry with a maiden at his side.

“Ser Gerald,” Harry nodded his head to the knight.

“Ser Harry,” Ser Gerald nodded back. “Congratulations on your knighthood, from Ser Barristan Selmy no less. I have no doubts that it was well deserved.”

“Indeed it was,” Margaery chimed in, squeezing Harry’s arm.

Ser Gerald looked at Margaery briefly before turning back to Harry. There were questions on the tip of his tongue, questions that he knew better than to ask aloud.

“I’m giving Lady Margaery a tour of the Red Keep,” Harry informed Ser Gerald with as straight of a face as he could. Then, leaning in close, he whispered to the man. “Say nothing if anyone asks after us.”

“Understood, ser,” Ser Gerald replied instantly. He opened the door and stepped aside, only the hint of an approving smile on his lips.

Harry and Margaery quickly slipped inside before Ser Gerald shut the door behind them. The stairs upwards were empty, but faint torchlight flickered overhead. Their footsteps echoed softly up the stairwell as they climbed to the upper floors of the building. Occasionally, Harry caught glimpses of a few of his family’s knights standing guard on various levels. He trusted Ser Gerald to get the message across to them all that they ought not say a word about what they may witness or overhear this evening.

When they finally reached the top floor, Harry found Ser Andrew Estermont standing guard outside of his chambers. The man was a loyal and true knight to his family, having squired for Stannis many years past. He was a deft hand with a spear and took great care in shaping his long, pointy beard.

“Ser Andrew,” Harry greeted him.

“Ser Harry,” Ser Andrew replied awkwardly. “Are you… retiring for the evening?”

“Not yet,” Harry said, offering no further explanation.

“Ah, right then,” Ser Andrew said. He opened the door to Harry and Stannis’ chambers and stepped aside, closing it once they’d entered.

Margaery let go of his arm once they were in private. The fireplace was alight, providing a comforting heat to the rooms. There wasn’t much in them besides the bare necessities: tables, chairs, parchment, and the like. Some of Stannis’ austere lifestyle had rubbed off onto Harry, not that he’d ever lived extravagantly back in England. Despite that, the furnishings in the Maidenvault were quite nice.

The door to Harry’s chambers remained ajar as he’d left it before he’d set off on his adventure to deal with the bandits. When he stepped inside, he found his featherbed had fresh bedding on it.

“Is this your bedroom?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Margaery peeking around him curiously.

“Yes,” he replied, moving aside so that she could step in.

Margaery moved with a trepidation that was endearing to Harry. “You don’t have many things in here, do you?”

There were plenty of things in the room, but Harry understood her meaning perfectly. Almost everything in here had been provided upon their arrival; the fine furnishings matched the others throughout the Maidenvault perfectly. There was little of Harry’s things in the room, the things he treasured or cared for.

“No,” Harry answered. “I suppose I’ve never been much of a collector of finery or things of that nature.”

“But you must have other things that matter to you,” Margaery insisted. “Loras and Garlan both keep their swords in their room. Willas has a cage for his favourite eagle and countless books on every subject under the sun. What is there of you in here?”

Nothing, really.

Except…

“There is one thing,” Harry admitted as he opened up the chest at the end of his bed. Margaery looked curiously over his shoulder as he carefully reached beneath several layers of fabrics until he found the one he was looking for. He pulled out what looked like a rough-wool cloak and laid it out on his bed. He unfolded it reverently, revealing his whittling knives, several blocks of wood, and his phoenix feather. Harry picked it up and held it out for Margaery to see. “This is the most precious thing in the world to me. The one thing I keep with me.”

“May I?” Margaery asked, holding out her hands.

Surprisingly, Harry had no trouble handing the feather over. He expected to have some hesitation given how much he worked to keep it safe, but something within him implicitly trusted Margaery now. He set it delicately across her open palms and then pulled back.

Margaery brought the feather up to her face. “It’s beautiful,” she said in awe. “The colours… it’s almost as if—”

Suddenly, she gasped deeply and shot up straight as though she’d been struck by lightning.

“Margaery!” Harry cried out, rushing forward to grab her before she could fall. But the moment he grabbed her waist, a shock ran through his body as well.

Every other time that Harry had felt this sensation with Margaery, it’s power had come nowhere near close to this. It’d always left Margaery stunned, but Harry had recovered quickly enough to regain his composure. Right now, they were both locked in place as a heat ran through their bodies.

It felt like they were burning up from the inside, but there was no pain. In fact, it felt pleasant, like a warm hug from a lover.

Harry wasn’t sure how their bodies were suddenly able to move, but he and Margaery slowly started moving closer to each other. Harry’s hands laid themselves atop Margaery’s, trapping the phoenix feather gently between their grasp. Their hands lowered down to their waists as Margaery tilted her head back to look up at him. There was no fear in either of them as they moved closer and closer, only a feeling of rightness.

When their lips touched, Harry was reminded of the feeling the first time he performed magic at Ollivander’s wand shop. It was an incredible rush of heightened emotions that completely engulfed him, and all of those wondrous feelings coalesced into the unbelievable delight he felt where his lips connected with Margaery’s.

The moment lasted mere seconds but felt so much longer than that. When they finally parted, neither of them looked like they could believe what they had just experienced. Words weren’t needed to try to convey anything to each other; they both knew that they had felt the exact same thing.

Margaery quickly stepped over towards Harry’s bed and gingerly placed the phoenix feather back in its hiding place before folding up the cloak and returning it to the chest. As the lid snapped closed, Margaery leapt into Harry’s arms.

They tumbled down onto the feather bed with Margaery on top of him. Their lips were interlocked perfectly, unwilling to waste a second of this magical moment that’d developed between them.

The smooth skin of Margaery’s back shifted under Harry’s fingertips as he pulled her tighter against himself. He’d never been with anyone else before; his body was acting on instinct, being guided by something primal. His breath was unsteady now as he felt himself start to harden. Margaery’s knee was nestled carefully in between his legs with her thigh applying just the lightest amount of pressure against his crotch, stirring him awake.

Somehow, Harry managed to pull his hands around to Margaery’s front and found the buttons keeping the upper half of her dress perfectly in place. The top slipped open, revealing the most perfect breasts to have ever existed.

Their lips parted, both panting for breath. Margaery sat up on his lap with her arse pressed down onto his cock. She let the soft fabric of her dress slip off of her shoulders, letting her teardrop-shaped breasts be fully exposed to the air. Her light pink nipples stood hardened, begging to be licked.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry said, almost in disbelief that anyone could look this good.

“We only have a short time together before we’ll be expected back at the feast,” Margaery said, biting her lower lip. “We ought to make the most of it. Admiration can come later.”

She was right, of course, but Harry couldn’t help but spend just a few more seconds drinking in her beauty before he grasped her hips and rolled her over onto her back. Her skirts were loose and much too easy to bunch up at her waist, revealing long legs and flower-lace undergarments.

There was no nervousness or shyness in Margaery’s eyes as she took his hand into hers. “Can you feel how wet I am?” She asked as she brought his hand to her panties.

“Yes,” Harry groaned, feeling the outline of her slit and the damp fabric beneath his fingers.

“You made me this way,” Margaery moaned quietly. “Are you going to take responsibility for it?”

In that moment, Harry knew that he was ready to throw everything away to spend the rest of his life with Margaery. “Gods, yes,” he said.

“Then fuck me,” Margaery whispered into his ear sensually.

Her vulgar words elicited the sweetest groan from Harry’s lips. He started unbuttoning his breeches until he was able to slide them down his legs until he was able to throw them aside entirely. Meanwhile, Margaery deftly manoeuvred her legs to one side of his body and pulled down her undergarments. When she moved her legs back onto either side of him, Harry nearly lost control of himself at the sight of her pink, wet slit. He quickly angled his cock and kissed her slit with the tip of his cock.

Both of them were staring down at where their bodies were joining as Harry began to move his hips. The searing heat from her core engulfed the tip of his cock as he pushed himself inside of her. Her walls squeezed him hard enough to make him stop and curse under his breath.

“You feel so big,” Margaery moaned, reaching down to grasp his exposed shaft. She tugged him forward slowly, urging him to sink further into her depths. However, before he could get much further, he felt a barrier blocking his passage. Margaery cringed as he hit it with his cock.

“Sorry,” Harry quickly said.

“Don’t stop,” Margaery replied, her eyes shut tight. “Just get it over with. It’ll only hurt for a moment.”

Harry nodded in understanding. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed forward strongly and broke through her barrier before instantly ceasing all movements. Margaery let out a hiss of pain.

It felt terrible seeing her like this, but it was an unfortunate reality of life. Harry peppered her face with kisses and whispered sweet words to her until he saw the pain begin to drain away from her body. When she opened her eyes again, there were tears in them, but they weren’t tears of sadness or pain.

“We’re together now,” Margaery declared happily as she pulled Harry’s head in for another kiss.

As their lips met, Margaery rolled her hips, and Harry took that as the sign that he should start moving again. He pressed the rest of the way forward until there was nowhere left for him to go. His cock had filled her up entirely, and the feeling of completeness that he felt being inside of her right now was simply divine.

Like the first time he ever successfully completed the Patronus Charm, Harry was left in awe of what he was experiencing. He started moving awkwardly with slow thrusts as he adjusted to the sensation of Margaery’s pussy. The pleasure was immense, but it was made even harder to maintain a steady rhythm with her adorable little moans that kept escaping out of the corners of her mouth as they continued to kiss.

Eventually though, Harry managed to better handle the overwhelming pleasure. His thrusts began smoother and better timed, and Margaery showed her appreciation as she wrapped her legs around his waist and cupped his cheeks with her soft hands.

“You feel so good,” Margaery whimpered, kissing his neck. “Keep going. I’m so—gods!”

Her words egged him on, pushing him to move faster inside of her. Soon, her breathy moans filled his ears, and Harry was left with a deep hunger for more.

His cock throbbed inside of her pussy as her walls squeezed him in reply. Harry grasped one of her breasts and squeezed down on it as he thrust into her again and again. Suddenly, Margaery cried out something unintelligible into his ear and her body trembled beneath him. This time when her walls squeezed his shaft, it was tighter than ever before. Harry let out a gasp and had to still himself inside of her as she continued to shake below him.

“Oh, Harry,” Margaery moaned when her body finally relaxed. She forced his lips onto hers and kissed him soundly until the need for air drove them apart. “This has been even better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“I’m close,” he told her, starting to move inside of her again.

“Do it inside of me, please,” Margaery begged him. “I’ll make some moon tea tonight. I don’t want this moment to be anything less than perfect.”

It was a risk finishing inside of a woman—his father had made the point clear to him on numerous occasions whenever he decried the bastards of knights and lords, born by whores and prostitutes throughout the Seven Kingdoms—but Harry was in full agreement with Margaery here. Moon tea would prevent any unintended consequences.

Harry’s pace quickly picked back up to how fast it’d been before, and now it was Margaery’s turn to encourage him even more.

“Please cum inside of me,” she whispered, looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. “You feel so good. Just a little bit more. That’s it. Give it to me.”

Harry groaned as he buried himself completely inside of her tight heat and exploded. Thick spurts of his seed shot deep inside of Margaery’s womb again and again until Harry was left thoroughly spent.

“I love you, Harry,” Margaery said sincerely.

“And I love you,” he replied just before he kissed her.

When they finally managed to pull themselves out of his bed, Margaery cleaned herself in the tub of water left for Harry upon his return and swiftly fixed her dress so that it looked just as good as before, albeit slightly rumpled. Harry struggled to keep his eyes off of her as he too cleaned himself up and got dressed again.

Not a single one of his family’s knights made any comment as Harry and Margaery slipped back out into the yard. The sun had disappeared but torches had been set, lining the walls for the first few guests who were beginning to trickle out of the Great Hall to return to wherever they were staying. Harry guided Margaery back there as gently as he had before.

The feast was far from over. More and more meats and vegetables were being brought out by servants along with various fruit tarts and cakes. No one really seemed to notice Harry and Margaery’s return except for Willas when they sat back down next to him. Loras was gone, and Renly was nowhere to be found either.

Wine was brought out for him and Margaery, and just as Harry began to drink from it, he caught his father looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Harry turned his head, finding Stannis with a thunderous expression on his face, promising a reckoning on the morrow over Harry’s cavorting with Margaery.