Chapter Text
Afternoon tea is a pretentious affair.
Anyone from the modern era would agree to that in spades. The idea of high society members gathered in rooms with potted plants & finger food seems like an outdated if hilarious notion. As if the world stops at four pm each day just for the mass consumption of carbs. Yet it did in the world of the Tyrells.
The Tyrell family had exploded on the New York high society radar in riotous color. Their money had been made in agriculture & a few other side ventures in the deep south, so it seemed appropriate that they have a float in the Macys Thanksgiving parade covered in more flowers than you would see in the rose parade. It was a mild November that year, so children dressed in overalls & gingham danced around the float tossing wrapped sweets & bread to the crowds as they passed. On the float itself, were the Roses of Highgarden, Louisiana: Megga, Alla, Elinor flanking Loras & Margaery with their little cousin Alysanne.
Blame it on their southern roots, blame it on their money but the whole family had its unique customs. Nevertheless, they were the darlings of the New York crowd. They gave money were it was popular, soup kitchens, women & children’s shelters, urban farm projects. Why the Matriarch of the clan Olenna Redwyne Tyrell, laughingly called the Queen of Thorns, was seen at a local gym doing yoga instead of hiring a personal trainer. So the afternoon tea ritual was not too great of a deal.
Margaery, with her Sorbonne education, stunned everyone by landing a job as a fashion consultant for a popular tv show. With her sleek beauty & confident style, the cameras adored her & so did the public. Her exuberance for lovely things made people run out & buy whatever she endorsed. Obviously, there is power in being a trendsetter. So when Margaery started Afternoon Tea for her girlfriends, the competition & speculation had been fierce.
Olenna, Margaery’s grandmother, had decided that the Garden Room in the Tyrells San Remo penthouse would be appropriate for Afternoon Tea with her group of confidants every Tuesday. She had advised Margery to choose Thursday afternoon for her day so it wouldn’t conflict. There was no word if Loras was given a day but since he was MVP for the New York Rangers, it was doubtful.
One of Margaery’s invitees to today’s tea just happened to be Sansa Stark, the former fiancé of Margaery’s current squeeze, Joffrey Baratheon. Tongues had wagged like puppy dog tails over that tidbit for quite some time. Sansa, a political science major at Columbia, had dropped Joffrey after some very embarrassing, very public fights. Sansa’s father was New York’s Police Commissioner, Ned Stark, not to mention that two of her brothers also wore shields. It took several long conversations with Joff’s father Robert Baratheon who was Ned’s childhood friend to keep NYPD from taking Joffrey away in handcuffs. Somehow out of all of nasty publicity & equally nasty gossip, Sansa & Margaery had become very close friends.
It was a lovely day in the city, & Sansa felt so lovely. She had taken Margaery’s advice on men, & finally broken thru the walls of Sandor Clegane’s resistance. Dear Marg had not realized until this week that the very creative relationship advice she had been giving Sansa was not intended for her brother, Willas. Sandor worked for Sansa’s father in the police department’s SWAT Team, & he had felt there was a good chance he would get reamed if he was caught messing with the boss’s daughter. Thank goodness, Sansa thought, for her brother Jon & Uncle Bryndan Tully or I would still be in the stalking stage.
Margaery had sent a note that her cousins Alla, Elinor & Megga would be at tea today, maybe Taena Merryweather if she could pull herself away. Since this was girl time only, there would be no men invited. The Tyrell girls were all good fun, mostly giggles & naughty stories. The cousins were Sansa’s age & all of them in college of one type or another.
But Taena was altogether different, older, & slightly exotic in her sexuality. She was married to a business collegue of Mace Tyrell’s, Margaery’s father. Margaery had whispered that Taena had been an Army brat & had learned many different things abroad. Stuff that the septas at school would have called perverse. Whenever they met, Taena was always smilingly polite to Sansa & there had been no awkwardness in regards to the Joffrey situation, so Sansa couldn’t refuse today’s invitation.
Walking up to the doorman at the San Remo, Sansa gave him a brief smile as he opened the door for her to be admitted. The lobby was a wide expanse of mirrors & marble, light bounced from surface to gleaming surface in an ever moving rainbow of color. Sansa was a regular at the Tyrells so the employees knew her by sight. Her name was on todays’ list of visitors, the concierge motioned to the elevator bank to the right of the desk. Sansa was constantly in awe of the moving bright collage & tall brass potted ferns. The concierge escorted her into the elevator & keyed in the code for the south tower penthouse. He smiled & nodded as the doors closed between them.
The elevators here always made Sansa feel as though she was strapped into a rocket, shooting to the moon. The panel on the right of the doors flashed the numbers as the elevator zoomed to the top. Sansa released a breath that she had not realized she was holding when she could finally feel the floor under her feet slowing as she reached her destination.
The doors opened to the wide foyer with potted roses & orchids everywhere. The Tyrells took their flowers seriously at home & at work. The foyer’s walls were a cool mint green with emerald vines painted to look as though they were reaching for the sunny gold leaf crown molding. As the elevator doors closed behind her, Sansa turned to see the hammered gold of the Tyrells rose on the doors themselves. Overhead, the words Growing Strong had been painted in rich green. Hmm, she thought, they have been redecorating.
Thru the columned archway, the Tyrells houseman, Butterbumps, stood in a green Kosovorotka with gold stitching at the collar & green pants. Oddly, Butterbumps never wore shoes in all the time Sansa had seen him. He led her thru the formal sitting room to the Garden Room with its terrace overlooking Central Park. There was no real record on how much was paid for this ten thousand square feet apartment. Sansa knew that Margaery & Loras shared a unit two floors down, only their father Mace & their grandmother Olenna stayed here. Their mother, Alerie & their cousin Alysanne were in town sporadically because they both preferred the south.
The Garden Room, itself had also been redecorated recently as to reflect an Indian theme. Bright turquoise & sunny yellow poofs & floor pillows had been laid out in the center of the room over thick pilled carpets. Low tables made of teak with gold inlay were dispersed so that the different delicacies on top were within easy reach of everyone. Ornate sideboards sat across from each other, laden with the different teas, black, green, & white.
The rose trees of different color varieties, which normally were set in regimented lines, had been pushed against the snowy walls in golden urns, their vibrancy highlighted by the starkness. The roses’ perfume, rich & heady, transported Sansa back to the Glass Gardens at her family’s Adirondack home, Winterfell. Margaery had been asking for cuttings of the Stark family’s prized Winter Rose for quite some time, stating that its bluish purple hue was beauty in bloom. So far, Ned Stark had refused despite Sansa’s pleading.
The cousins had arrived before her, arranging themselves on the poofs. A loud chorus of welcomes completely drowned out Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony coming from a discreetly placed ipod. Sansa moved amongst them kissing a few checks & giving hugs. They had all chosen maxi dresses in brilliant tones, bunched under them for comfort. Their long legs were exposed to reveal wedges in matching style to round out their summer look.
Sansa had picked out a sedate Ralph Lauren frock in emerald green, knowing Margaery would approve of the choice. Her long red hair was twisted in a messy bun at the nape, leaving long tendrils blowing softly around her face. The cut of the dress was extremely flattering but the color made Sansa look whiter than the walls. It wouldn’t do to look better than the hostess.
At one of the sideboards, Margaery was engaged in a discussion with her grandmother, Olenna. Margaery wore a rainbow splashed Jenny Packham with an empire waist that ended at the knee. Her long mahogany hair was curly, flowing long down her back.
“I do not like this look, Margaery.” Olenna persisted, flinging her hand around the room.
“Yes ma’am. But think of how uncomfortable your guests will be in here now. If they are busy guarding their hemlines, they won’t be guarding their tongues.” She gave the older woman an encouraging smile.
“hmmm..” Olenna paused, considering to think on Margaery’s words. But Sansa could see the gleam in her eye even at a distance.
“We shall see. I cannot ask billionaire wives to squat on the floor like a Calcutta dustman.” With a huff, Olenna strode past Sansa, but not before giving her a wink & a pat on the shoulder, her lavender scarves trailing in her wake.
Margaery’s forehead creased in distress. Olenna was the head of the family, even Mace, her son had learned that fact very early in life. Her tactics were vicious but she also loved Margaery though not at the expense of her goals. If the Queen of Thorns became adamant, the room would be changed accordingly.
The silence in the room signaled that the cousins had overheard the discussion & were properly cowed. They owed their status & school entrances to the Tyrell family, so upsetting Olenna was not in their interests. There would be no help for Margaery from that quarter. The girls shifted on their pillows like frightened birds quivering in their nests, unsure whether to stay or fly away.
Spying her at the entrance, Margaery glided across the room to Sansa, both hands outstretched, a smile in place. Her happiness at Sansa’s arrival was obvious & her eyes sparkled with her pleasure.
“Sansa, darling, I am so glad you made it and how pretty you look!” Margaery grabbed her hands to pull her into an embrace.
“How could I refuse? You are too generous, dearest Marg!” Sansa chirped prettily.
Margaery swung her in a circle, their dresses billowing out around them. The cousins shaken out their fear, giggled in response. The single act & response of the two girls twirling around the room helped lighten up the tension & restore the fun.
“Come, you must sit & try these scones.” Margaery gently pushed Sansa onto a poof next to Elinor,” I will serve you, my dear friend” Skipping away to the sideboard, Margaery quickly fixed Sansa her favorite English Breakfast with milk.
“Sansa, I must tell you! Guess who is coming to town in a few weeks?” Elinor whispered.
“Hush, Elinor !” Margaery walked over with Sansa’s cup,” That was supposed to be my surprise!”
“Oh ! I am sorry, Margaery!” Elinor’s had a contrite expression as she lowered her head.
“But since she has started,” Margaery shot her cousin a look, ”Willas is coming to town next week.”
Sansa felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. With a detached smile, she accepted the cup from Margery & took a scone from a nearby table. Margaery would be pushing her brother at her from dawn til dusk! Things were still new with Sandor, they had been together for a few weeks & things had finally turned sexual. Sansa wasn’t sure how Sandor would take to Marg’s matchmaking attempts if he found out, despite Sansa’s refusal.
“Well that will be lovely ! Is he here for Loras’ Playoffs?” The Rangers had an excellent shot at the cup this year. Loras had gotten tickets for everyone.
“That & some business deals with Daddy. They are looking at buying into some vineyards that the Martells own in the South. Muscadine wine is becoming very popular among different groups.” Margery took a seat on the opposite side of the table next to the terrace.
“Oh that will be such fun! Muscadine wine is very sweet.” Sansa kept her eyes on Margaery over the rim of her cup. Had she not been looking, Sansa would have missed Margaery’s subtle signal to Megga.
“Willas is so dreamy,” Megga sighed,” Were we not cousins, I would be after him like a new pair of Louboutins.” Megga leaned back on her cushion staring up at the ceiling with a smile on her face.
“I know,”Alla said, ”We need to find him someone. That much male goodness should not be wasted.”
“I am sure that you will find someone,” Sansa chortled,” Now, I was wondering how you were liking your humanities class, Megga.”
Sansa could see the writing on that particular wall. Time to change the subject. Megga was a Sophmore at Columbia & still had not decided on a major.
“Oh yes ! One of the recommended books was called Cowgirl Up…” Megga began with a laugh.
“I have read that,” Margaery interrupted,” have you read the chapter on fellatio?”
“Noooo, I just couldn’t do that!” Megga scrunched up her nose & made gagging noises.
Sansa giggled along with them, happy as a clam. Everyone would be talking about sex & not trying to throw her & Willas together. Sansa had not met him yet, but after months of Marg extolling his many virtues & accomplishments, Willas was starting to sound surreal. She did know that he had been in a bad traffic accident with one of the Martells that messed up one of his legs. Margaery had mentioned it but glossed over the facts of his recovery.
“Megga, giving a blowjob is for the man, not the woman. Think of it like this, he is on bottom, you are on top. You are in control of his pleasure, & you want him to feel good.” Margaery spoke slowly as if to someone of limited intelligence.
“There was something called a Figure 8?” Megga said in confusion.
Sansa perked up at that question. Placing her cup down, she gave Margaery her full attention. These kind of details would be fun to try out on Sandor later. Apparently, Sansa wasn’t alone. Margaery had everyone’s attention & she relished it.
“The Figure 8 is where you have his cock in your mouth, as far as you can take. Lightly suck on it. Then release the suction. Imagine drawing a figure 8 with your nose on his stomach.” When Margaery had finished, the cousins all had looks of disgust, as though the idea of giving pleasure that way was abhorrent.
“I read that if you stick your finger up a guy’s asshole, they cum harder.” Alla said as she plopped a cucumber sandwich in her mouth.
“You might want to have his permission first,” Sansa advised,” I don’t think all men like that.”
“What you can do, is rub just past their ball sack but don’t go too far. That really gets them going.” Margaery starting laughing as she reached for some fruit in the center of the table.
Suddenly, Sansa had a cold feeling. Margaery might be talking about her relationship with Joffrey. Joff had always been pushing her down to his crotch, trying to tell her what he wanted. Suck here, lick here, & the whole time pinching & pulling areas of her body that she didn’t like. Most of the time, Margaery had been very careful to not speak of her time with Joffrey or what they did together, knowing that it made Sansa very uncomfortable. Thank goodness, Megga broke Sansa’s trip down memory lane.
“What if you have fake nails? Would you still want to stick your finger up a guy’s ass? What if you lose one ?” They were serious questions judging by Alla's facial expression as she looked at her fingers. That was enough to make them all dissolved into raucous laughter.