Stannis was well aware that his recently wedded wife was stunning. It seemed like every man and boy over the age of twelve actually thought he needed reminding with the way they leered, though. Servants and lesser lords were easy to scare off, but having the Kingslayer and Robert trying to flirt with Sansa was appalling. So he did what he could, marked what was his. (Even if no lord will see the marks later.) It helped that beautiful Sansa genuinely seemed to enjoying their fucking, especially when she moaned and writhed while he nipped at her pretty pale skin.

When morning dawns, she sits up as he dresses, blue eyes warm. Sansa leans up to brush her lips against his, a routine gesture he appreciates. When she bids him off, mischief in her eyes, he has to suppress a pathetic groan. He'd rather spend the day in bed with beautiful, lovely Sansa than watch Robert drink and Ned do his best to ignore his brother's downward spiral. As the day goes on, Stannis notices increased attention towards him. Cersei has her calculating gaze focused on him during a meeting, one that turns into a glare as soon as he pulls away from her hand creeping up his thigh. (Even when he wasn't married, fucking someone Robert had touched was a disgusting thought.)

White cloaked Jaime Lannister also stares, looking at Stannis as though he just proclaimed his deep and undying love of bards and whores. Petyr Baelish is also looking deeply wounded, which is a disturbing sight. He doesn't know why, until he slips out to see Sansa before another one of Robert's idiotic feasts. His mind is overcome with the sudden thrill of possessive lust at the red love bites covering his wife's slender neck and fair chest. Sansa's eyes are knowing and amused when he pulls her flush against him, nipping at her throat and trailing his hands down her body.

"I do love you."

"I know, but with these," and he trails his hand the bruises on her skin, "now every man that stares at you knows as well."

He leans down again to catch her swollen lips again, immersing himself in the feel of eager, beloved Sansa.