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In the following days, Robert took care of Margaery. She survived the first night and woke up in pain the next day. She was given some sedatives so not lose her mind to pain.
Robert showed her their two sons, and that calmed her plenty. In the following days, slowly, Margaery was healed. Robert helped her with her needs, regularly picked her up in his arms, and took her outside to the gardens.
Still not healed enough to resume walking, it was clear that Margaery would live. But to fully heal, it would take months. Especially the internal wounds.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I have failed you as your wife. To no longer be able to bear you—"
"Blast the talk of babes, Margaery. You've given me two true sons—two! That's plenty. You've done more than enough. That's enough. You must take care of yourself now and raise the boys well—strong backs, harder hearts." Robert reassured her that her place wouldn't change. "I'll leave for the North in seven days. The wildlings are wreaking havoc in the North."
Margaery nodded softly, smiling at the tenderness Robert was showing her. Of all the bad things that had befallen her, she felt it was all a test to bring her to that moment.
"I will raise them strong in body and mind both, my love."
Margaery promised and looked out to sea from her garden seat. It was a daily event for her, Robert brought her outside to get some fresh air. Thanks to the sea, the city's stench didn't reach there.
But then she looked at Robert and smiled again. She had spoken with Myrcella earlier, the blond girl had also helped her and taken care of her over the days. And to Margaery's surprise, since that painful night, Robert had not sought the company of a woman. Neither Myrcella nor Missandei or Rhaea.
And being aware of Robert's extremely high libido, she saw the signs of his pent-up need. Heightened anger, deep breaths, eyes focused. It ached her that she couldn't fulfill her marital duties anymore.
"Your Grace…"
"Hm?"
Once Robert looked at her, she lovingly smiled. "I'd never blame you for wanting someone else's company."
Robert eyed her for a long moment. Then, let out a long breath and just nodded. No words were exchanged. Nothing to dishonor Margaery's position or shame her for her shortcomings.
####
It was true. Robert was in need, but he kept it contained. It didn't feel right while his lawful wife was bedridden. It felt like betraying his duty as her husband. So, he dutifully kept to his official duties as the King, and then as a husband, taking care of Margaery. Guiding the many maids to be as gentle with her as possible.
But nights were when it got tough. Still, he didn't waver.
And now, finally, with Margaery much better, and her thoughts clear, Robert felt somewhat relieved. He didn't want her to think he was ignoring her or replacing her. He already had a bad marriage with Cersei once, and he didn't want to repeat it.
That night, Robert ate supper with Margaery inside her bedchamber. While she remained in bed with a wooden table sprawled across her front, Robert had dragged a normal table and chair to her bed's side.
They weren't alone to eat. Since Robert didn't bed any other woman but the selected four, Margaery had long ago made it a rule to eat together so nothing stays hidden. So, that night as well, Missandei and Rhaea, the silver-haired woman from Essos, had joined them. But that still left out the fourth one.
"Where's Myrcella?" Robert asked.
"I saw her in the garden last time, picking some flowers," Missandei said.
"Flowers?" Margaery exclaimed. "For me?"
Rhaea shrugged. "She's far more energetic than the two of us. She's either with you, with us, or doing something else. Never sits in one place."
Robert chuckled. Myrcella was, after all, merely twenty or so. Her energy was self-explanatory. "Then let her be."
They ate, talked, and sometimes laughed. Eventually, once the meal was over, Qyburn and a few healers came to clean the wound, put on some healing ointment, and wrap fresh, clean cotton. It was embarrassing for Margaery, but since Robert was always present, she felt comforted.
Later, Margaery was given less potent milk of the poppy so she could sleep well without any discomfort.
Robert bid her a good night and left her bedchamber. That evening, instead of going to his solar, he went to his bedchamber to change his clothes and maybe go find Rhaea and Missandei in their rooms. Or maybe both together.
He nodded at the Kingsguards and entered his private bedchamber.
"Hm?" He was instantly struck by a potent scent of roses in the entire room. It was dim for some reason, the torches on the walls were doused, and only a few candles were left here and there.
"Your Grace?"
"Myrcella?" He walked deeper into his bedchamber and turned to look at his large bed. On it, Myrcella was lying sprawled, her legs spread straight and wide towards the headboard, while her head was at the footside, almost dangling from the edge, her golden hair already spilling down like a waterfall.
Without a question, she was completely nude, her handful tits that continued to get fuller looked beautiful, and those tight, small red cherries on top were mouth-watering. And her face, grinning, her big green eyes were full of lust.
But the unmistakable detail was the amount of rose petals spread all over the bed underneath her. That was the source of that fresh fragrance.
"Margaery was searching for you during supper," Robert said, not too shaken by her shenanigans. He was used to her constantly excited persona, and her bare beauty. She was everything that Cersei wasn't in the head, and yet exactly what she was in body, and even more. Myrcella was in the absolute prime of her beauty. And yet, she'd rather get plowed by a man more than twice her age.
Myrcella grinned from the bed, unmoving, keeping her legs and arms spread wide, her beautiful chest rising and falling gently. "Oh, she knew. It was her plan to use the petals."
"She did?" Robert raised a brow but wasn't too shocked.
Although he had planned to find Missandei and Rhaea, he wasn't abhorred by the idea of Myrcella. Besides, he hadn't filled her up in a long time. So, without a word, he began to disrobe, discarding his surcoat, then tunic, letting his subtly hairy chest go bare, revealing his thick arms, and his almost flat belly. He was proud of what he'd carved out of Robert's fat now.
"Have you eaten?" Robert asked while removing his noble trousers.
"I have." She said, and then grinned like a minx, her lovely, beautiful face was like a constant poster of mischief. "But I'd rather feed on something else."
"Hah." Robert chuckled and finally stepped out of the last leg, fully nude from top to bottom. He first walked over to the jug, poured himself some wine, and drank the whole cup to wet his throat.
And then, he walked towards the bed where Myrcella's head was dangling. He was fully hard by now, his thick, meat rod slapped against his thighs as he walked, its dangerous throbbing girth and the threatening purple head hinted at the long night ahead. Weeks of pent-up desire to be unleashed, and Myrcella had volunteered.
But again, considering how much she relished in him being rough, she probably wanted that.
"Gods… You're beautiful." Robert walked all the way to her head, legs slightly spread wide. Due to his height, the bed's edge was a little low, so his cock easily went over her face, and his balls slacked right on her nose and mouth, her entire head right between his meaty thighs.
Robert, before starting anything, leaned forward and caressed his rough hands over her naked body. His palms cupped her lovely breasts and gave them tight squeezes, followed by some gasp-inducing pinches on her nipples.
"Ummmm…" Myrcella moaned under his sack, her tongue protruding out to lap at his wrinkled skin, licking like a hanging fruit.
Chuckling, Robert moved his hands forward, spread wide, feeling her petite belly, a fragile thing he could crush between his grip. Then came her hips, spreading out, her toned young thighs.
"Already drenched?" He felt her melting slit with one hand. With her legs spread parted wide, he easily got access to her hairless, needy cunt. It was filthily wet and sticky.
"Heh—Been ready for days now, Your Grace."
Listening to her divine voice, his sack already drenched, same as the base of his shaft, he pulled his hips back and stood straight. He looked down at her face, her head now entirely dangling off the edge of the bed. He knew exactly what she wanted. Other than being entirely dominated underneath him, she was obsessed with sucking, licking his thick rod.
"I'd be mad to keep a maiden sobbing now—here, feast on it."
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