Burning a Northern Winter
CHAPTER 1
It had been a long time since she had thought of men in a romantic way. Her history robbed her of any childish romantic notions. She had been forced into a marriage of convenience at a barely marriageable age. That husband had at least been kind to her, and not demanded her maidenhead.
Tyrion Lannister was an unusual man. In moments of reflection, she thought perhaps she could have come to love him. He was always kind to her, never failed to protect her. His intelligence and wit were attractive, and together with his caring qualities she could have been brought to look past his stature. He was a dwarf, although not an unattractive man. She'd been mortified by his lack of height at the time. She towered above him even then, but age and experience had changed her dramatically and she was now embarrassed by the superficial way she had viewed the world and beauty.
She wondered if, gifted her life again, she would not have run from him and Kings Landing? That change in path may have avoided her second forced marriage, which had been a far crueller reality. Then again, had she not escaped when she did, she would likely have lost her head, once King Joffrey died. As it was, Tyrion had barely escaped in time to save his own head. Who knows what fate would have dealt her in the capital without him by her side?
Try as she might, she failed to envisage a worse fate than marriage to Ramsay Bolton. He was a sadistic, brutal, creep, who made Joffrey's cruelties look tame. Ramsay had tormented her and raped her regularly during their brief marriage. She had found a place in her mind to escape to during his many assaults of her. A silent void to cut herself off from her body and the world.
The experience made her sure she would never know love, nor marry again. She had built herself into a stone woman, an ice lady never showing her feelings nor truly allowing herself any. She didn't even feel real joy at the reunion of her siblings. She was lost, even to herself. Or was she? It had indeed been a joy to serve Ramsay and Petyr Baelish their deaths on a platter - perhaps there was hope for her rebirth after all?
Before them all there had been Joffrey. Not knowing mad King Joffrey's nature at the time, she had not only supported but advocated for a betrothal to him. She had been seduced by the child-like fantasy of it all. She was thankful she had never married him. There were to be no fairy tales in her future. She had power of her own now. As Warden of the North in her brother Jon's absence, she'd been gifted a true sense of purpose denied by her sex. Few women wielded any power in this world. Most were vessels for their lord husband's seed, or labour for a household. Subservient to all men. Thought to be and treated as though less intelligent.
Her current position afforded her deference and, although it gave no light to her world, it did give her confidence, self-esteem and contentment that she appreciated. She felt an emptiness in the knowledge she would never have children and know the love they could offer her. The gamble of a fourth poor match, wagered against that experience were insufficient odds to entice her. Besides the brutal rapes she had endured left her with a hollowness inside that she felt sure was barren-ness. No seed had taken root then thankfully, and the soil had no doubt been tainted forever.
No man stood as her equal anyway. Those prissy knights she used to adore seemed children to her now. Lordlings were no doubt intent on taking her position for themselves and putting her into a role of brood mare. Not that she ever allowed one close enough to find out for sure, but she could see their plans in their eyes and avoided their advances.
For all she had resigned herself to spinsterhood there was one man, of all she had known, who would come to her in her dreams. He would sneak through her walls when the night took her resolve and her tired mind rested, rumbling words into her thoughts in his low enticing voice, kissing her and touching her soul.
She would wake heated and struggle to let go of the sensations, or come to terms with it as a dream. It was only ever him who came to her. He'd been coming for years, stuck in her being somehow. The knowledge of his impending arrival at Winterfell along with Tyrion and Jon had disconcerted her for days. She was nervous enough at the thought of seeing Tyrion again, but to see that man when she had so vividly dreamt his touch, so many times, was distracting.
He was much older than her, but her years didn't reflect her true age. She'd seen too much of life to view someone equal to her in years as a counterpart. There had always been something there with this man. Initially she'd thought him cruel, but other than Tyrion he'd been the only one to show her genuine kindness during her time in Kings Landing. She now realised his often-cruel words were honesties. He'd been trying to warn her of the vipers nest she'd entered and been too immature to see for herself. She'd come around to his way of thinking over time, having witnessed the politics of Kings Landing at close hand.
He'd protected her as best he could in his position as Joffrey's favoured Kingsguard. There was always something about him that made her catch her breath. He was coarse, abrasive too, but he oozed rough masculinity and his eyes were dark pools of intrigue. He was taller than any man she'd met, save for his brother who was known as the Mountain that Rides. He brandished a sword with superior skill, rescued her from being raped once, and offered to take her far away the night of the Battle of the Blackwater.
He'd been very drunk that night and it had scared her. She had thought he might kiss her, and had mused upon it so often since that she wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't. At the time of his intervention there was already a rescue plan in place, so she'd refused him, to her enduring regret.
Her younger sister Arya hated him or at least she had hated him but, in the end, he'd been good to her too. Coming across her in his travels he'd protected her and tried to deliver her to their mother. He was fortunately late in doing so and it had saved her life; their mother, brother, sister-in-law and so many clansmen and bannermen perishing at the hands of their turn-coat enemy, the Frey's, at the notorious Red Wedding.
Arya had told her she had thought she was avenging her hatred for him by denying him a merciful death when he'd been gravely injured sometime later. When she'd trained with the faceless men, she'd come to realise she held affection for him and was grateful for his protection when he'd given it. She understood now that her lack of mercy had not been out of hate but out of her inability to hurt him.
Sansa had wondered if he'd offered that protection to Arya in recompense for not having saved her. Protecting her blood as best he could. It was a somewhat arrogant thought, but she couldn't shake the feeling that their connection was mutual. That there was something between them that neither could label and she wondered, now that she had matured, whether it would remain unspoken or remain at all.
After taking a large sip from the goblet of wine she held, she put it down on the small table next to her chair. The words on the parchments which lay on her lap refused to enter her mind, so consumed with thoughts of him. Giving in to herself, she rolled them up and set them aside for a later time.
Standing, she smoothed out the creases of her dress and began pacing in front of the fireplace. She was glad her sister was not at hand to witness her being so off-keel. Arya had developed an unreadable presence, always even and cool, if not frightening. She was a formidable swordswoman and moved with grace as she fought. For all Arya resisted any notion of womanhood, choosing to dress in breeches and a tunic, and pursuing masculine past-times, when she fought it was with the unmistakable flourish of a woman. Sansa allowed herself to smile as she thought about it.
There was a knock upon the door and a servant entered the room. Sansa looked expectantly at the girl standing before her, who spoke and said, "They're here, m'lady, been spotted from the towers. They'll be entering the gates shortly."
"Thank you, Ellyn." Sansa said. "Fetch me my cape, please. I should like to be in the courtyard when they arrive."
The girl scurried to a hook on the wall and grabbed a long black cape. Stepping towards Sansa as she turned, she lay the cape over her shoulders and Sansa clasped it at her own neck.
"Would you require a shoulder fur too, m'lady?" Ellyn asked.
"Yes." Sansa replied. "The grey one, and my black leather gloves."
Once Sansa was wrapped for the cold outside, Ellyn stepped backwards and dipped her head, waiting for her mistress to exit the room before her. Sansa took a couple of long slow breaths, raised her head tall and strode confidently from the room, her long red hair a striking contrast against the black and grey ensemble she wore.
She made her way through the stone passageways to the newly rebuilt wooden gallery which overlooked the courtyard. Pulling her large gaping hood over her head against the chill of the air, she observed the increased activity of stableboys and porters below preparing to make themselves useful.
It was Tyrion who entered the courtyard first. He dismounted his horse with assistance. When he looked up and saw her he smiled broadly and called out a cheerful greeting. She acknowledged him with a smile and nod, before a porter moved towards him and directed him to the great hall where warmth, food and wine awaited them all.
She was just about to go inside to meet him, when she saw the man she'd been looking for amongst the growing crowd. He was unaware of her and she watched him intently. When his eyes finally looked up, she felt her legs wobble beneath her skirts and she clutched hold of the bannister.
"Shit-face!" She heard Arya call out.
He'd dropped his gaze to look through the crowd towards the voice and his lips had curled into a grin when he saw the dark-haired young woman, standing straight and as tall as her diminutive height would allow, her hands clasped behind her back.
"So, you live, wolf-bitch! I had hardly believed it true when I heard." He rumbled.
"You must be damnable hard to kill yourself." The girl said with a smirk before stepping forward and hurrying towards him. Leaning into him when she reached him.
It was not a hug by any but their own standards. She bumped her shoulder against him, whilst his broad hand patted the back of her other shoulder, her seemingly tiny against his towering form.
Arya caught the attention of a porter and told him to direct Clegane to bathing-facilities.
"I'll meet you in the great hall for a drink of wine, when you smell less like a wet dog and look less like a sack of shit." She said, grinning.
He nodded his acceptance still smiling and turned his head back to where Sansa had stood. His smile vanished instantly when he saw she was gone. Unknown to him, she was watching him from a new position. Turning, he handed his reins to a stableboy and followed the porter inside to clean himself up.
She entered the great hall and took her place at the head table. Tyrion soon made his way towards her, took up her hand, kissed it and bowed to her.
"You look well, Lady Sansa. Winter agrees with you." He said.
"Thank you, Lord Tyrion. You look very well yourself. Your head suits you upon your shoulders. I had feared your sister may have taken the opportunity to remove it during your recent reunion." She said smiling sweetly at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Motioning towards a chair she said, "Do sit with me."
"Gladly." He said, climbing upon the seat immediately to her side. "You are far better company than any man here, and smell far sweeter. It is unfortunate we are reacquainting ourselves during such worrying times. Jon and the Queen have flown further north to survey the current situation. I fear the battle may be at Winterfell's door shortly, but for now we rest and drink. It will not be any better won if we do not."
He reached forward and lay his hand upon hers. "It pains me that your second marriage brought you no more joy than your first." He said, looking up from under his heavy brow with a quiet genuine tone to his voice.
She met his eye and said, "You and I may not have shared joy, Lord Tyrion, but you were nothing but kind to me. Our marriage bears no resemblance to my second." She turned her hand beneath his and took hold of it firmly. "I thank you for being the gentlemen you are."
They were smiling sadly at one another, hands still clasped together, when Arya approached. Clegane two steps behind her.
"Come, let us join my sister and Lord Tyrion." She said, as she pulled a stool from beneath the table and pushed it towards Clegane for him to sit upon. "I shall pour you a wine and another, and you can tell me about your experiences beyond the wall." Arya looked at him as she filled a goblet.
His eyes were transfixed on Tyrion and Sansa's entwined hands and he silently watched them release one another from their mutual hold. "I shall take your wine gladly." He said in his gruff voice. "I have had far too bloody little of it of late, but I shall not disturb the pleasant mood with tales from beyond the wall. We will all know too well what it is like soon enough."
Arya pushed a goblet towards him and he raised it, turned his eyes to Sansa's and said, "I drink to your health, little bird. I am glad to see the cess-pool that is Kings Landing did not break you. You have grown in stature and beauty, and look a masterful Warden of the North." He winked at her and took a large slug of wine.
She could do nothing but stare into his eyes. They pulled her in and she felt as though the room went silent. It had not of course, and when she found herself again a moment later she felt unable to stay in his presence, her dress suddenly feeling constricting of her breath. She forced herself to sit and listen to Tyrion question Arya about her experiences across the Narrow Sea, but as soon as she'd drained her goblet she pushed her chair back and stood.
"I am sorry, I must leave you all and attend to some papers in my chambers." She said, feigning the excuse to get away. She nodded curtly to them all and left the hall.
He'd watched her go before making his own excuses and leaving too. As he reached the entrance of the hall he caught a glimpse of her skirt disappearing around a corner at the end of a long passageway. Quickening his stride, he pursued her. Turning that corner, there was no longer any sign of her. Panicked, he roughly grabbed a passing servant's arm and asked to be taken to Lady Sansa.
When the maid knocked on the door of her chambers he'd almost lost courage, but the maid quickly announced him, and he'd been granted entry. He stood silently looking at her as the maid backed out of the room and shut the door. They were alone, and Sansa stretched out her arm motioning at a chair by the fire for him to sit upon. He shook his head.
"I'd prefer to stand." He grunted, letting go of a long breath. "I'm not sure why I've come, no doubt it won't take long."
She looked at him quizzically from where she stood. With her hands behind her she raised her skirts a fraction to sit, before placing one hand on top of the other upon her lap. Her face unreadable as she waited for his words, her blue eyes never leaving him.
He strode towards her. His large gait easily closing the distance between them, and swiftly bent down on to one knee to be eye level before her. Imploringly he said, "I need to apologise, little bird. For every coarse action, or word I ever spoke to you. I am not the man I once was, but most of all I need to say how sorry I am that I left you. I understand you did not wish to come with me that night. I know you probably feared me then, but you needn't have."
Speaking more to himself than to her he said, "I should not have left. I should have been a stronger man and stayed to protect you. If not, I should have taken you over my shoulder and carried you from that hell."
Again, imploring her he said, "My neglect of you haunts me, and I am truly sorry for it. I beg your forgiveness." He finished, moving his gaze from her eyes to the floor.
She reached forward and placed a hand on his forearm which rested upon his bent knee. At the touch of her hand he looked up in surprise and met her eye.
"There is no apology necessary. I made my own choice that night. I was not your responsibility and you did me no disservice by leaving." She said.
Registering his pain, she said with a small encouraging smile, "If you would like to know a truth, I have regretted it. I have spent many hours wondering where my life would have gone if I had the courage then to go with you."
His mouth fell open, and she smiled more broadly. "I have shocked you with my admission, Clegane?" She slid her hand under his and grasped it gently. "Your little bird has grown in confidence and candour."
His face had twitched at the use of the words "your little bird". The warmth of his calloused hand spread up her arm. She did not have the same nervousness in his presence in private that she felt when trapped opposite him at the table downstairs. Perhaps, it was his own candour that had shattered it, or the knowledge he had carried her with him in his thoughts for all those years.
He reached his other hand out to her free hand and they drew themselves up to stand together. "I thank you little bird, for your grace in releasing me of my shame. Your forgiveness seems easily granted, but it will take some time for me to forgive myself." He said, his face twitching with an unease at his actions.
She pulled her left hand out of his hold and carefully lay it upon the scarred side of his face, extending her fingers to gently caress the leathery streaks of scar tissue. He flinched slightly at her touch, she thought more from shock than annoyance.
"I repeat, there is nothing to warrant my forgiveness. I pray you forgive yourself." She said.
His head leaned slightly into her palm, welcoming the gesture, and his eyes slowly closed. She raised herself on to her tip toes and lay a soft kiss upon his lips. She surprised herself in doing so, but his vulnerability had softened her core and perhaps she longed to know if the reality of his lips would match her dreams.
The kiss was gentle and sweet. His bushy beard tickling her face. When she landed back on the heels of her feet she looked up to see his eyes wide and darting over her face. She had shocked him further and he was trying to read her. When he saw her take an anticipatory breath, he leaned down and kissed her firmly, his free hand reaching behind her waist and pulling her towards him.
The heat that kiss released in her body was beyond measure. It exceeded the sparks her own explorations of herself had produced, and she was not shy about granting herself her satisfaction. She felt herself press harder into his broad body, her breasts tingling as they brushed against him.
When his tongue swept her lower lip, she opened her mouth to him and allowed it to enter. Their tongues tangled a little awkwardly at first, but within a heartbeat they found a mutual rhythm, twisting together passionately. He drew his tongue away and gently sucked her lower lip, giving her a last peck before lifting his head to look down upon her. His arms were wrapped around her; hers were leaning up against his chest and shoulders. They were both breathing heavily, and he smiled. She realised she had not seen him smile so contentedly before.
She had seen him laugh in twisted mirth. Amused by a situation that wounded another's pride, or when he found humour at another's ignorance, but a smile on his lips brought by a genuine positive emotion, was something she had never imagined.
"I have dreamed of that kiss a thousand times, little bird." He rumbled, his voice almost humming in pleasure, his eyes glinting with happiness.
"As often as I then?" She replied coquettishly.
He laughed lowly, shaking his head gently in disbelief. "Bugger me, little bird. You have knocked me sideways. May I kiss you again?"
Her smile answered his question and they began kissing again. His hand reached up, so his fingers could brush her cheek and thread through her hair. When they released again to catch their breath he was still in awe of her.
"I should go, little bird, before my presence dishonours you." He sighed resignedly, still fingering her locks of hair.
"What possible dishonour of your making could befall me? I am Warden of the North. I shall speak to whomever I choose behind closed doors." She said, with an almost daring look in her eye.
He puffed out a breath. "It's not the talking I am worried about." He rasped through his broad grin, whilst a finger brushed her cheek with a touch so light it seemed impossible to have come from such an enormous man.
"Well, I for one am not concerned. I am an adult, and shall do as I choose in my own chambers." She said, raising one eyebrow.
"Wake me little bird, I must be having a dream." He said, before quickly adding, "No, don't! I do not wish to awake from this." As his finger slid down the curve of her neck.
She allowed her hands to slide down his torso and was about to speak when there was a knock upon the door. They quickly stepped apart and she shook her head, running her fingers through her hair to tidy it. Him smirking at the joy of their private moment.
"Enter." She called.
It was Ellyn again. "You are wanted in the council room, m'lady. More lords have gathered. They wish to discuss the impending battle." She said.
"Tell them I am on my way." Sansa said, her face still and serious, hiding all trace of her recent passion. "Close the door as you go, please Ellyn."
They stood watching the girl leave. Sansa smiled almost shyly at him and said, "Please say you will return here tonight, after the castle has quietened. I wish to talk to you alone again. I feel we owe ourselves a moment together undisturbed having spent so many years apart."
He reached out again, touching her face once more. "If it is your wish, of course little bird." He said.
Their lips briefly met again in a chaste kiss, and they headed towards the door, each making effort to appear disinterested in the other for the world outside.
CHAPTER 2
He entered the room positioned off the great hall some steps behind her, and stood against a wall cloaking himself with his usual gruff countenance. She gracefully swept across the chamber and took her place in the centre of the long table.
Sansa appeared serious and regal surrounded by those who had negotiated with the southern lords, those who had ventured beyond the wall, and important local lords who had decamped to Winterfell in preparation for the battle that was to come. Jon and the Queen of Dragons had yet to return from their reconnaissance mission and there were some unhappy rumblings from the local lords who had heard that Jon had bent the knee to her and in doing so foregone his own title of King in the North.
Sansa, reading the mood of the room, attempted to delay the inevitable confrontation by saying, "I feel this meeting is premature. Without Jon's update of the situation to the north, there is not much that can be decided upon."
Lord Tyrion spoke up. "That is true, Lady Sansa, however perhaps those present would feel comfort in knowing your own preparations?"
He gave her an encouraging smile and she began to relay all she had achieved; shoring up Winterfell's defences, preparing accommodations and food stores for the vast influx of northerners who had sought protection behind the walls of the castle. Cattle and sheep had been herded and driven down from further north to feed the masses. Many long drops had been dug to deal with excess sewage. Healing supplies had been increased one hundred-fold.
Steelworkers had produced new plate armour non-stop since Jon had first told them of the situation. The stonemasons and weapon makers were working with the shipment of dragon glass that had arrived as Jon and his small party had ventured north of the wall in search of a wight to capture and transport to the southern lords, underlining the reason to set aside differences and join the ultimate battle.
Another shipment of dragon glass was due any day to expand on the supply of arrowheads, spearheads, and daggers already produced. No hand was idle within the walls of the castle, nor surrounding area.
At Sansa's bidding, they had prepared bonfires to be lit amongst a wood to the north of Winterfell to act as a wall of fire to protect the castle from the army of the dead. Timing the lighting of it would be crucial. Too soon and it would burn out before it was needed, too late and the area would not be fully aflame to protect them. There was a risk the fire would spread further than they hoped but, with snow on the ground, they were confident it would be contained to the hectares of the wood they intended to light.
Her explanation of the fire wall defence brought many rumblings of satisfaction and sparked a discussion to expand on the plan. The army of the dead would travel by foot south and pass through heavily wooded areas as it did. It was agreed, dragons would be sent to torch woods when they were amongst them to drastically reduce the numbers that could reach the castle.
It was known that the undead could only be stopped by stabbing with dragon glass, or Valyrian steel (which was scarce), torching with fire or by sinking in water. Gazing down upon a map, it was decided that they could funnel at least a large portion of the army towards Long Lake with fire and force them into the lake with flame from behind. Another portion could be shepherded towards the eastern sea cliffs with flame and forced off.
The Queen of Dragons' two dragons would be crucial in the plan. Much land would be scorched in the effort. The north would be scarred for a long time, but the affected lords understood damaged forests and land was a better outcome than death, or worse becoming undead. The lords at the table agreed to help any affected lords as best they could to resettle or re-establish their domains once the war was won. It was a time to draw together, not capitalise on a neighbour's loses.
It was an anxious but more hopeful group that departed the council room to re-join those in the great hall for the evening.
Sansa again took up her position in the hall to eat the evening meal. The crowd began to thin sooner than normal as they all sought rest from their travels and labours. She took the opportunity as early as she could to bid everyone goodnight and retire to her chambers.
Ellyn was waiting for her when she arrived in her room. The girl immediately set about loosening her laces, removing and folding her gown and brushing out her hair. Sansa thanked her for her efforts, told her she would not be rising early in the morning and wished her a goodnight.
She pulled on her dressing gown and wrapped it about her, before settling down beside the fire to await her visitor. The war council had gone as well as she could hope, and she wondered whether Jon would return before morning. Although their plan had given the group more confidence than they had dared to date, the situation remained extreme. Even if successful, a new world order was upon them. Old ways would slip away as priorities changed to recover from the expected devastation of the north.
An hour or so later there was a quiet rap on the door. She moved towards it anxiously and opened it. His lips curled into a smile when he saw her, and he stepped forward into the room. She pushed the door closed behind him and slid the bolt across, locking it.
Neither made a movement towards the other, a new nervousness having crept between them since their time alone that afternoon. "Would you like wine?" Sansa asked, breaking the silence and tilting her head.
"Aye, lass." He replied, and he watched her go to a table to pour them each a goblet from a carafe. She handed one to him and their hands touched as he took it from her. They both sought the reaction of the other in their eyes.
They stood sipping at their wine cautiously watching one another, as she gathered her courage to ask her next question.
"Would you stay with me tonight?" She released a quick breath, at the relief of suddenly being able to say it. "To be clear, I am not sure of what I offer you beyond sharing sleep in a bed. I desire your companionship. It is something I have never had, and with the world falling apart at our feet I don't feel in a mood to deny myself." She finished, twisting her lips, unsure if she had explained herself properly.
He nodded and frowning slightly said, "Are you sure, Sansa? You can rest assured you will be safe from any unwanted advances from me, but are you sure you are prepared to take the risk of being found together?"
"Oh, I know you would not force yourself upon me." Her eyes wide, shaking her head acknowledging the truth. "You could have done that in the past had you chosen, or forced yourself on my sister during your travels together. I know you are a man of honour, and would tell no-one of our time together."
She stopped, took a sip of wine, formulating her thoughts before continuing. "If we were to be found, I fail to see the shame of it. I seek marriage from no man – so have no prospects to tarnish. I have been twice married and it is common knowledge what I will have endured at the hands of my second husband, so no-one mistakes me for a maiden."
She stopped again to take another sip, rolling the wine around her palate before swallowing. Her shoulders relaxed as she continued, "Our world is under great threat, and I would like to lay next to a man I respect and care for as I drift off to sleep. Lord Tyrion never touched me, young as I was and respectful as he was. Bolton only ever raped me for his amusement or humiliation of me. He spent his nights in his own chambers preferring the companionship of his mistress, thankfully. I have only ever slept next to my sister and would like to know the comfort of a man beside me. Perhaps I will want more, perhaps I will not?" She finished matter-of-factly.
"We are not so different, little bird. I have never slept beside a woman I care for. I too would like to experience that comfort. It is bound to be bastard-different to sleeping alongside flatulent soldiers." He said curling his lips slightly.
She smiled at him gratefully, and said "Well, if you are sure I am no risk to your own honour, shall we retire?"
He nodded, and sat to take off his shoes.
She moved about the room blowing out the few candles that were adding illumination. When she was done, all that remained was the glow from the fireplace. Removing her dressing gown, revealing her loose soft linen shift, she lay the gown over the back of a chair, stepped out of her silken slippers and climbed into her bed. Her knees tucked up towards her chin, her arms embracing them as she sat watching him.
He had folded his stockings and placed them upon his shoes, tucking them under his chair. His tunic and shirt lay upon the back of it. He stood and stepped towards the bed. Loosening the laces of his breeches for comfort he pulled back the coverlets and climbed in beside her. They smiled sweetly to one another, and both let out a small laugh. He bent forward and kissed her softly goodnight, before stretching himself out on his side and pulling her towards him in an embrace, her head tucked under his chin, her back flush against his chest.
"Thank you." She said.
"It is as much a gift that you give me, little bird." He said kissing the top of her head.
His arm draped over her hip, his hand gently resting on her belly. She traced his fingers lightly making note of their length, his callouses and the feel of his knuckles. She let her hand slide up his forearm and her fingertips tousle the strong dark hair that grew upon it. The warmth and strength of his body behind hers relaxed her, as did his masculine scent. Not entirely clean from his travels, he had an earthiness to him.
A small tear formed in her eye and she was glad he could not see it. She wanted to give herself to him but was fearful of the memories it may invoke, so instead she lay there listening to his breathing.
After at least an hour she whispered, "Are you awake?"
"How could I not be, little bird? I want to remember every moment." He smoothly replied.
She turned, happy with his answer and kissed him lovingly. When she felt his manhood stiffen against her she froze in fright.
Aware of her sudden tension, he said "I'm sorry, Sansa. I don't have a lot of control over that but, rest assured, you are safe. I will not take you. I would never force you."
She relaxed upon hearing his words, and caressed his face with her hand, running her thumb down the deep groove where his cheek met his mouth. "I too don't have a lot of control over my bodily reactions. My fear is inbuilt. It is not of you, but of memories. I'd like to overcome it. I'd like to share myself with you, but my body does not necessarily listen to my heart nor reason."
She propped herself up on to one elbow, looking down at him from above, she kissed him again. He pulled away when the kissing became more heated.
"We don't have to do this, Sansa." He said genuinely, seriously.
"No." She replied, "That felt good. It felt like I was in control. Like I was kissing you. It felt powerful."
"So, you would have me be submissive to you?" He said with a broad smile.
She smiled back at him. "Does that threaten you as a man? Would you not allow it?"
"Oh, I know I am a man. I doubt I would suddenly become incapable of bearing a sword and slicing a man in two if I allowed a woman to take control of me in a bed." He said smiling up at her.
"So, I can explore my limits; my comfort?" She asked hopefully.
He rolled his eyes, as if to say what madman would deny such a request? "I am yours to play with as you will. I will take no offense if you want to stop, or ask anything of me." Laughing a little he said, "You may map whatever part of me you like. Explore at will, little bird."
Sitting herself up more fully, her weight taken by one hand as she leaned upon it. Smiling softly at him, she pressed her other palm to the side of his face and began stroking his beard. She enjoyed the fullness of it, the coarse but soft sensation against her skin, so different to any part of her own body. Her thumb smoothed his full eyebrow.
"You too have the right to tell me to stop. To withdraw from this situation at any time." She said, raising her eyebrows as if to confirm the point.
"I think it is safe to say, that will not happen." He rumbled, and rolled his head under her hand to press his lips to her palm.
Feeling at ease in the darkness of her chamber, the comfort of her bed, and the golden light softening her vision she felt removed from the real world. It gave her a strength to be honest with him. Shifting her weight to kneel above him she ran both hands over his head, pulling at locks of hair, inspecting their strength and waves.
"We have coupled in my dreams relentlessly over the years. You are the only man who has ever touched me in my dreams." She admitted.
He was visibly taken aback. He rested a hand on the curve of her hip and said, "But what of your pretty knights? Surely an ugly cunt like me has not been the only man to enter your thoughts?"
"Oh, yes. My thoughts, my imaginings were filled with those priggish boys when I was young; but my unconscious dreams were only ever of you and, since you left me, my conscious thoughts only yours."
She leant forward and kissed him softly, before returning to her former position to watch his face, her hand moving to stroke the hair on his chest. She loved what she saw. He was well muscled and notched with scars. Her finger began tracing the soft silvery streaks a lifetime of combat had charted over him.
"I find it hard to fathom, little bird? If only I had known, I would not have stayed away so bloody long." He said regretfully. "But, why me? I am surprised you can look upon my face at all, damaged as it is, let alone caress it as you do."
"What is not to love about your face? You are a handsome man. Dark, rugged and masculine. Your beard is proof of your manliness; your virility. Your brown eyes mysterious and deep. It is true your brother marked you for life, but it adds to your character, your unmistakable uniqueness." She said, her belief in her own words apparent.
Her finger found his nipple as she spoke, and she saw him flinch slightly, his hips giving an involuntary waver. It boosted her sense of control.
"Bah" he laughed genuinely, "To think my brother added to my looks in your eyes. That would anger him no end." He said, pleased at the notion. "You are remarkable little bird."
"I think I must be." She replied. "To have a heart so loyal to a man for so long, who I had never been intimate with and who I genuinely thought I would never see again."
Her hand glided down the side of his warm torso, a finger sneaking under the waist of his breeches. As her finger then slid forward towards his belly it connected with his erection and he let out a low groan. Shutting his eyes, his head visibly sank further into the pillow.
She smiled to herself, enjoying her obvious power and let her finger absorb the sensation of the silky soft skin as it gently stroked his rock-hard cock. Feeling a rushing of blood to her womanhood she started breathing deeply herself. Her other hand moved to loosen the laces further, tugging strongly at them with an almost urgency.
"Would you remove your breeches?" She asked, her heart pounding in her chest. She was unsure if it was with anticipation or fear that he may refuse.
There was no reply from him beyond his eyes shooting open and his body dropping from his side to his back. He firmly tugged the laces loose, raised his hips and pulled the breeches off in no time, pulling them out from beneath the covers and tossing them away carelessly before rolling back to his side to face her, and letting out a couple of deep breaths.
"Thank you." She said sincerely, and again leaned forward to give him a loving kiss on the lips.
When she leaned back up to kneel, she let her hand glide down his torso and slide under the covers, over his hip; her fingers reaching to feel the firmness of his behind. Liking what they found her hand curved behind him to caress his cheek, grabbing at the hard muscle. All the while she watched his face, fascinated by the appreciation of her touch it portrayed. Her hand continued down the back of his strong thigh, her fingers again creeping around behind it to feel the smoother skin between his legs.
His groaning was more audible when she touched him there. The soft skin more tender to sensation. Her hand came forward over his knee. Changing her angle at the wrist her thumb and forefinger traced up the inside of his leg towards his manhood. The look of anticipation on his face, despite his closed eyes, unshackled any hesitation she may otherwise have felt. When she reached the dense bush of hair her fingertips moved amongst it, her own breath audible to her with the slightest of moans. Her eyes now shut, mapping his body in her head. She felt the sack around his balls tighten against the pads of her fingers, and when her thumb and forefinger found his shaft his hand shot away from delicately kneading her hip to press hard upon his own head, as if the pressure he put against it would stop it from exploding.
Her smile was broad, her breathing steady and deep and her groin burned. She bent forward to kiss his lips, her right hand never leaving his shaft, her fingertips continuing their slow caress.
The neckline of her shift had slid from one shoulder with her movement and as she returned to upright it revealed a plump white breast, nipple taut with excitement. He opened his eyes and saw it before him. Searching for her eyes he gave her a pleading look and she gave him a short nod.
His hand reached forward to cup it with magnetic motion, her skin burning as he did. When his fingers toyed with her nipple her head dropped back with pleasure, and when she felt his body move and his moist mouth encase it she groaned loudly. His tongue flicked her nipple with such delight that her other breast cried out in neglect.
He pulled away and touched the hem of her shift. Looking at her he said, "May I?"
She nodded an urgent yes and lifted her arms helpfully as he pulled the shift up and over her head. She did not feel exposed by him, nor shamed at her nudity. Her only desire was that he give equal treatment to her other breast.
As if reading her mind, his hand went to it, his thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple between them firmly. Intense sparks of pleasure shot out from the peaked flesh. When his mouth took over and his beard rubbed against her she felt a wetness leak from between her legs. The urgency she felt there was strong. Contracting her muscles about it and pressing her knees together was not easing its call. In a flash she thought about whether or not she should do anything more to satisfy it, but this was no time for conscious thought.
She pushed him back on to the bed and lifted a leg over him straddling his hard cock. She rocked her hips, rubbing her wetness along his hard shaft seeking relief for the burn. His firm round knob massaging against her only made it worse and she raised herself, reaching down between her legs to take him in hand and place him at her entrance.
His hands had come to rest upon her hips, gripping them and when she lowered herself down on to his shaft they jointly groaned in pleasure. She pushed herself down firmly on his hips, twisting slightly, her body begging to be filled by him.
"Gods Sansa!" He said, "No woman has ever felt so good."
She knew that he spoke no lie. His appreciation of her was real. She raised herself slowly savouring the internal rub and, as she lowered herself slowly again, her face grimaced in pleasure as he travelled her depths, pressing up inside her. She quickened her efforts, raising and lowering herself repeatedly, and whilst the sensation was breathtaking it was doing nothing to sooth that call, the urgency only built. She began rocking her hips, desperate to find her pleasure. One hand clawed at his chest, but she was frustratingly lost, her breathing ragged.
"I need more." She begged.
He lifted her off him and rolled her on to all fours. "Stay there, little bird." He said as he got off the bed. She felt an instant mourning at the loss of contact the moment they uncoupled. It felt as though a desert had suddenly appeared where once there was water. Her desperation for him to be inside her was once again extreme. Standing with his legs against the edge of the mattress, he reached a large hand under her belly and pulled her towards himself, lifting her hips to be opposite his. The anticipation of his return impassioned her.
Positioning his knob at her entrance and pressing it purposefully against her he said, "Are you alright, little bird?"
"Yes." She said without a trace of doubt, and he drove himself forward into her wet and wanting womanhood.
Her pleasure was audible and visible. He started a rhythmic pump.
"Yes." She said, louder. "More."
The sound of her voice a surprise to her ears, but she could not hold it back.
He increased his speed and pressure, one hand grasping her hip, the other putting pressure on her back, fingers reaching to entwine in her hair and grip it. Her back arching in response to him.
"Harder." She called, and he pounded heavily into her.
She was lost in the pleasure of it. Overwhelmed with the sparks his hard pumps produced within her core, chest and head. After several more thrusts, she could feel the peak within herself build. When her womanhood contracted about him suddenly the white-hot peak spread throughout her body. She felt him thrust deeply and stay, his manhood twitching as it released its seed in spurts.
"Fuck! Fuck!" He said loudly, distressed. "I should not have done that."
The panicked tension in his body apparent and fighting with the satisfaction of his release.
As the waves of her peak continued to flow over her, she reached a hand behind herself to touch his leg. "It's no matter." She soothed, puffing. "I wanted it. I wanted to feel your release. I wanted you. I'm happy."
He returned to a slow probing of her as he softened, massaging her buttocks and back with gentle but strong hands, before reaching under her to find her breast and squeeze it firmly, his body curled closely over hers.
"I am happy too, little bird." He whispered in her ear, with love in his voice. He slid out of her and dropped on to the bed beside her, pulling her against him, as his breath returned to him. "I am happy, Sansa."
The name was still strange upon his lips. She rolled herself around to face him. Surveying him in all his naked glory. Her eyebrow raised as she watched his manhood slacken.
"Not so scary now." She said, gesturing towards it with a tip of her head, her warm buzz still radiating throughout her body increasing and lightening her mood.
Her hand went to the muscles at the front of his hip and soothed it. "I think I love you." She whispered, looking up to his eyes.
He sat up on his elbows. "I am dreaming, or dead." He said definitively. "Bastard, buggery – fuck!"
Her laugh was genuine as she sat up and kissed him passionately, forcing him back down on to the bed. His hands roaming her skin as it cooled in the night air.
After a short rest, they both stood seeking their goblets. Smirking at each other, unable to hide their delight in the situation. Having satisfied their mutual thirst, they returned to the bed and pulled the covers up, pressing their bodies against each other as they kissed again. She could feel his arms become heavy about her as they lay there together, and she knew he was drifting off to sleep. Content, she allowed herself to do the same.
She woke sometime later to the sound of him moving about the room. It was still dark outside, and the glow from the fire softer. "Are you leaving?" She asked sadly.
"I had better." He said unenthusiastically. "We should not be found together." He was pulling on his clothes. She stood and stepped towards him to hold him once more.
"I would rather you stayed, but I suppose we mustn't. Will you come again tonight?" She spoke into his chest, sounding unsure.
He looked down at her, naked in his arms and put his thumb and forefinger under her chin to tilt her face towards him. "Aye, if you desire it."
"Every night I desire it, and I have for so long." Her face showing her dissatisfaction at him leaving.
"Your brother would have my head, if not my balls if I stayed. I would like nothing better than to wake with you every morning, but for now I will come whenever I am able to do so without shattering your honour, for so long as you want me to." He kissed her gently.
"Now come. Bolt this door behind me. I want no other bastard making his way to you." He said as he patted her bottom.
She smiled at his possessiveness, and made her way to hide behind the door as he slid the bolt open.
"I shall see you when the castle awakes, and it will be a buggering battle larger than I have ever fought to keep my hands and eyes from you." He whispered, enjoying a final kiss before carefully opening the door and exiting the room.
She felt a trickle of his seed weep down her leg as she made her way back to bed. She thought about attending to washing herself there, but was not yet ready to let go of him. Instead she climbed under the covers and replayed his touches in her mind, whilst drifting off to sleep.