GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa - Chapter 121 Towards

Chapter 121: Chapter 121 Towards

He turned on his heel, his heavy leather boots echoing sharply against the stone floor as he walked toward Mace. The Lord of Highgarden jumped slightly at the sudden, looming attention, quickly gesturing toward the heavy oak doors.

“Yes, quite right! The maps are in the strategy room, Lord Thorne. We have much to coordinate regarding the supply lines through the Rose Road,” Mace babbled, eager to put some distance between himself and his mother’s sharp tongue.

As the heavy doors thudded shut behind the men, the tense silence of the solar returned. Margaery slowly sank into the plush, padded chair across from Olenna. She couldn’t entirely hide the slight wince as she shifted her weight, trying to find an angle that didn’t make her inner thighs throb.

Olenna watched the awkward movement with hawk-like intensity. She didn’t speak a word until Margaery was finally settled.

While Margaery faced the Queen of Thorns behind closed doors, Alaric stood alone in the vast, map-covered strategy room. He rested his heavy, leather-clad hands on the edge of the carved oak table, closed his glowing eyes, and let out a short, steady breath.

System, Alaric thought.

Instantly, a series of translucent blue panel appeared into his vision, stacking rapidly as the System processed the monumental shifts in his power base over the last twenty-four hours.

[Sovereign Bond Updated]

Subject: Margaery Tyrell

Bond Level: 1 (Claimed)

Affection/Loyalty: 90/100 (Status: Devoted Queen)

Bloodline Harvested: Legacy of the Reach (Garth Greenhand)

[Reward Granted: +5,000 Monarch Points (MP)] [Current Balance: 19,120 MP]

[New Ability Unlocked: Vital Supremacy of the Greenhand]

Type: Passive Aura / Bloodline Enhancement

Effect: Your physical regeneration and stamina are now absolute, practically rendering you immune to mortal exhaustion. This vitality bleeds into your bonded mates. Margaery Tyrell now shares a fraction of your unnatural stamina, allowing her body to heal and adapt to intense physical stress in a matter of hours. As a secondary effect, any soldier fighting directly in your line of sight gains a massive surge of adrenaline and pain resistance.

Alaric let out a low, satisfied hum, the sound vibrating in his chest. Vital Supremacy. Good reward.

…

Within the hour, the colossal iron gates of Highgarden were thrown wide open.

The earth trembled beneath the synchronized march of tens of thousands of soldiers. The golden rose banners of House Tyrell snapped wildly in the summer wind, stretching as far as the eye could see down the dusty Rose Road. Alaric rode at the absolute front of the vanguard on his massive black warhorse. Margaery rode flawlessly beside him, her back perfectly straight. The soreness from the morning had already melted away completely, washed out.

Four Days Later — The Tyrell War Camp, The Rose Road

The massive Tyrell army moved at a terrifying, relentless pace. Thanks to Alaric’s imposing presence and the iron discipline of his Blood Knights, the vanguard ate up the miles far faster than any normal host ever could.

By the fourth night, the camp had swelled into a sprawling, temporary city lit by thousands of flickering torches. At the very center stood the command pavilion—a massive, opulent structure of heavy green and gold silk, large enough to house a high lord’s entire court.

Inside the dimly lit pavilion, the maps and strategy tables had been completely abandoned.

“Ah… Alaric…”

Margaery’s breathless sigh echoed softly over the hiss and crackle of the iron brazier.

Alaric had her pinned back against the thick, central wooden pole that held up the massive tent. His solid frame pressed completely flush against hers, effortlessly caging her in. Margaery’s bare toes were barely brushing the thick Myrish rugs; Alaric’s large hands gripped her waist, hoisting her up to meet his height.

She was no longer buried under layers of heavy court gowns. She wore only a sheer, impossibly thin silk sleeping shift. It had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the dark, fading bruise on her neck where he had first claimed her.

Alaric kissed her deeply, his mouth hot and demanding. Margaery didn’t pull away. Thanks to the Vital Supremacy passive, the physical toll of their first night was a distant memory.

Instead of exhaustion, she felt flushed, completely energized, and entirely addicted to the radiating heat of his body. Her delicate fingers tangled fiercely into his thick, dark hair as she kissed him back, matching his heavy rhythm.

His hand slid from her waist, his fingers pressing into the soft, bare flesh of her thigh. With effortless strength, he hoisted her leg, hooking it high over his hip. Margaery broke the kiss with a sharp, ragged gasp as the thick, heavy ridge of his arousal pressed flush against her center through the dark wool of his trousers.

“Do you ever intend to let me sleep, my lord?” she whispered breathlessly, her brown eyes hazy and hooded in the dim, flickering light.

“You didn’t seem tired,” Alaric rumbled. The unnatural crimson glow of his eyes pinned her completely in place. “And I have no intention of leaving you unsatisfied.”

A thrilled shiver worked its way down her spine. A wicked, swollen smile touched the corners of her lips.

“Just remember,” she breathed, her voice dropping to a teasing, melodic purr. “There are five thousand men just outside that canvas flap. You will have to keep quiet.”

Her eyes sparkled with a daring, newfound confidence. She reached blindly toward the small side table, her fingers closing around the familiar, heavy crystal bottle of almond oil they had brought from Highgarden.

“There is still quite a lot of this left,” Margaery murmured, holding the gold liquid up between them. “And I’ve decided I rather like it when you are… thorough.”

With a sudden, surprising burst of playfulness, she placed her small hands flat against Alaric’s massive chest and gave him a firm shove. Alaric, deeply amused by her sudden spark of boldness, allowed himself to fall back onto the thick white furs of the command bed.

He stayed there, propping himself up on his elbows, his glowing eyes tracking her every move like a massive predator watching its favorite prize step right into the trap.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet