"Shit!" Sansa seethed. Damn this gown. The corset was impractical at best and a demon in disguise at worst. It stretched from her hips to her decolletage. It was a chore to pull it up her stomach and pulling it past her breasts made her want to throw it into a fire. There were few options when it came to new mother's attire. Obviously, whoever made this had not only never had a child but apparently never seen a pregnant woman before.
The corset stuck under her breasts made her look like a Winter Town whore. They hung lower than they had before Lyarra came along. Her mother still scolded her about feeding her child from her own breast. As Southron as Sansa saw herself, she enthusiastically adopted the Northern custom of breastfeeding their young.
The demon fabric was Stark Grey with a strip of black leather across the waist, if she managed to tie the dress up, a direwolf head would reveal itself on her right breast, covered in small onyx and white stones, as well as rubies for the eyes of her husband's direwolf.
He would be in the broken tower now, she thought. Repairs were needed in the place of their secret matrimony. She still remembered that night. A storm blazed in the dark, her cloak was soaked by the time she made it inside the tower. How bold she was then, engaged and sneaking out to be wed to her bastard cousin by a bribed septon while her father and mother slept mere buildings away. The inside of the tower smelled of mold and rain, oh how happy she was. The smell of her new husband's leather doublet as she buried her face in his shoulder, while he locked the door to what would be their makeshift bedding chamber. A fur cloak draped over a small bed of goosefeathers in the corner.
"M'love?" She jumped. The gruff voice snuck up behind her like a shadow. Her husband stood in the doorway, as quiet as his direwolves namesake, while she stood in front of her mirror with her breasts exposed. When she saw it was him, her shoulders relaxed and she resumed fiddling with the corset.
"Are you in need love?" He asked, locking the door behind him.
"Of a better seamstress," She muttered, "one with the skills to make a practical corset." She felt that she would break it if she kept going. Her husband's giggle snuck up on her. It made its way to her neck before she knew it.
"Oh very impractical, but absolutely stunning to look at," His hands wrapped around her waist. She felt the heat reach her cheeks as her husband's beard brushed against her neck. The prickling sensation, making her even hotter. He kissed her ear. "You look like a dream, Sansa." He purred. He knew all of her sweet spots, damn him. She gasped when she felt his calloused hands squeezing her breasts. She looked in the mirror and saw her husband's hands massaging her breasts and his lips nuzzling her neck. It was the erotic thing she had ever seen.
"What do you plan on doing my lord?" She moaned, with a smile on her face. The feeling of her husbands lips on her neck turned her into liquid.
"Whatever I please." He growled.