Jorro remained bedridden. His condition had declined so quickly that he could not easily be moved. The king had extended to Richard Arryn his hospitality, his staff, and his blessings. Rassa had been present when he told her father his castle was at his service. Rassa had fallen to her knees and kissed his ring, sobbing. Though the king laughed, there was empathy in his voice when he told her to rise.
All the hospitality in the world did not help her brother, unfortunately. Every time Rassa saw him he seemed to have edged further into the grave. It was the lesions that scared her first. When the hunched old maester came to look at him, he opened Jorro's shirt, revealing countless angry sores and boils all over his body. Rassa wondered that she had never seen any. His face. She reminded herself. He always has little cuts on his face. I should have seen it, I should have known. But they are nothing compared to this. The maester turned over his hands, indicating to her father the reddish rash on his palms.
"An allergy." Her father said blankly. "Our maester said it was an allergy…"
The other man shook his head sadly. "His condition has been rather latent, but it has been degrading for quite a number of years, quietly and rapidly. He probably knew he had it, and worked to conceal it. His behaviour has probably become more erratic over the years, has it?"
Rassa shook his head. "He got quieter. I thought he was just growing up."
"Yes." Her father agreed, his face changing at the sudden realisation. "He has become a lot quieter."
"He really was working hard not to worry you." The old man assured them. "If he had not collapsed he probably would have gone on until – "
"Until he died?" Rassa choked.
"Yes." The man smiled, though there was sadness in his eyes.
"How long?" Her father muttered.
"Not long now." He told them. "His collapse is symptomatic of degradation of the psyche. See how his legs and arms twitch and writhe sometimes? Soon fits will take him. They will keep coming until one finishes him."
"He'll die soon?" Rassa could feel her heart splitting.
"I have no doubt." He affirmed. "Sometimes it takes years, or decades. But in light of such a rapid decline, I think his end will come soon enough. I'm sorry."
Her father and the maester left soon afterwards. Rassa sat in the chair next to Jorro and took his hand. He looked at her with a smile. "He talks about me like I'm not here."
"I know." Rassa could not smile. When she sat next to him and saw his withering body, suddenly she forgot how to smile.
"No use speaking to a dead man." His back spasmed sharply, making him arch up off the bed for a split second before dropping him back down, and he gave a small gasp of pain.
"Don't say things like that." Rassa implored.
"Sister." He sighed. "I'm going to die. And I'm going to die soon. I may be gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow. The spasms are getting worse –"
"Shhhh." Rassa pressed his hand to her lips. She could not bear to hear it.
"Rassa." His voice was strangely bold. "I'm glad it's happening quickly."
Rassa almost hit him. She almost screamed. She almost ran out of that room, swearing not to return. Instead she nodded. Though she did not want her brother to die, she understood that he would prefer a quick death to one that lasted years. In his position she would pray for the same.
"I know it's horrible." There were tears in Jorro's eyes now. "I know. I've had to live with it. I didn't tell you because I couldn't bear it if my last years with you were filled with tears. I wanted to be able to see you smile. To make you smile without guilt or sorrow in your eyes. I'm sorry I never told you. But I don't regret it."
"I don't blame you." Rassa replied wholeheartedly. "And I don't regret it either. I'm glad we spent such happy years together."
Jorro yawned. "Just one more thing before I sleep."
"Yes?"
"Your friend. Did I scare him away that night?"
"No." Rassa had all but forgotten his last encounter with Sandor Clegane. "No you didn't."
"Is he good to you?"
"He's watched over me every night since his brother assaulted me." Even on his deathbed, Rassa did not keep anything from Jorro.
"That's good." Jorro agreed. "If he's good, sister, do me a favour."
"Anything." Rassa swore.
"Stay with him. Marry him if you can, elope if you cannot. Have children, love them. Be happy." He paused, a smile passing over his dry lips. "And name one after me."
Rassa laughed through her tears. "I will Jorro. I promise. I'll name the dogs and the pigs and the chickens after you, too."
He chortled, though his hand had begun to tremble violently in Rassa's. "Alright, fuck off. I'm tired."
She was already in bed when Sandor tiptoed into her room. Rassa turned and watched him struggle out of all the belts, leathers and mail that bound his body. He sat on the piano bench to remove his boots and smiled at her watching him silently. "I thought you were asleep."
"Not tonight." Rassa had found sleep hard to come by lately. Lying awake listening to his breath in her ear was comfort enough for her. Her dreams brought her no respite, and she rued every light doze she fell into.
Sandor wrestled out of his riding breeches with the same string of curses that never failed to bring a smile to Rassa's face. She knew he did it just to make her smile. He looked up and winked. It was funny, all that black and heavy leather made him look so formidable, but when he took it all off and sat there in a simple white tunic and plain linen underpants, he just looked like any other man.
He shoved her, playfully making her roll up against the wall before flopping down beside her. Rassa pulled the covers up over him and laid her head on his chest. Sandor squeezed her gently.
"Jorro?" He inquired simply.
"Dying." She answered thickly.
"I'm sorry." He nuzzled his face into her hair, kissing her head. "Are you alright?"
"I have been a lot better, I can tell you that honestly." She replied, her voice strangely vacant. "I feel a lot better than before though, for some reason. For some reason knowing has expelled all of my worries."
"No one likes being left in the dark."
"No." She looked up at him and smiled for the second time that day. She kissed his neck, his jaw, his lips. Sandor slipped his hand down her back, deepening their kiss. His presence made her feel safe; his embraces made her feel like everything was fine. In the past few days, Rassa had felt her need to be close to him increasing, even as Jorro's health deteriorated. At first it made her feel guilty, thinking of letting this man take her while her brother lay dying in the very same tower, but as the days crept on her need to feel close to another human being began to eat at her, and the thought of her best companion slipping away only increased her longing.
Rassa pressed her mouth harder against Sandor's, stroking his leg with her own and letting her fingers wander across his sculpted chest. She felt his hand tentatively wander down to her thigh, slipping slickly under the light fabric of her slip. The feeling of his rough, heavy hand against her bare skin made her breathing quicken. Sandor broke their kiss and nuzzled her fondly. She met his gaze shyly, playing with the strings of his tunic.
"You want…?" Sandor licked his lips nervously. "Are you sure?"
Rassa nodded slowly, tugging the loose knot open. "Yes …I am sure."
In all the nights they had slept next to each other, Sandor had never made a move on her, now he pushed her over onto her back and attacked her in a flurry of savage kisses. Rassa whimpered loudly against his mouth, pulling him firmly against her. The feeling of his body on top of her was unparalleled; he was so heavy but at the same time felt so safe, warm and right. He slid his hands down her body, slipping her gown off her shoulders and down, leaving her completely naked in one smooth movement. He pulled her bottom lip roughly with his teeth before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Rassa moaned into the kiss and slipped her hands away from his chest and around his neck, encouraging him to spoil her with his mouth.
His hands spoiled her as well. He cupped her breasts lustily and fondled them rougtly, squeezing and kneading them and leaving her breathless. He removed his mouth from hers and watched her as he slid his hands down away from her bosom, tickling her ribs as they heaved beneath him and gently stroking her flat stomach. He moved his hands around her, nudging under her impatiently before cupping her buttocks. With an impish grin he clasped her behind tightly. The feeling made her gasp and giggled at the same time. His grin lengthened and he raised her easily by the buttocks. He looked down and witnessed her bare sex poised between his legs and Rassa saw that he coloured slightly at the sight before moving his hips to grind against her. She stifled a loud moan with her hand and wriggled against him. She could feel his hardening member very distinctly through the thin linens he wore. The sensation sent a shudder through her and she bit back her need to whimper and moan. Sandor saw her struggling and laughed.
"Don't be shy, Rassa." He urged, kissing her neck. "I want to hear you."
"You might, but I have doubts about the people in the other rooms." She struggled to get the words out between her heaving gasps.
A devious glint appeared in his eyes and Rassa knew that he did not give a rat's ass about who might hear them. He removed a hand from her back and slipped it deftly between her legs, stroking and teasing her outer folds. Rassa whimpered, her hips twitching upward in search of his touch. Sandor sniggered and pushed his thumb up against her nub, massaging it slowly.
"Ahhhhh..." Rassa closed her eyes as his ministrations sent a wave of pleasure rolling across her body. She heard Sandor chuckle and mention something about the neighbours before slipping a long finger into her. She groaned, hips moving gently against his digit, which had set out to explore every inch of her, stroking her walls gently even as its partner tortured her outer parts. Presently, Sandor struck a particularly sensitive spot and Rassa thrust into his hand with a small cry. He covered her mouth with his, which was still bent into a playful grin. Rassa reached down and greedily pressed his hand against her, writhing into it in a desperate bid for relief. Sandor plucked her hand away and held it be her side. "Don't be so impatient." He instructed hoarsely. He kissed her neck and collarbone and Rassa laid her head back, enjoying her position. He sucked and nipped at her hardened nipples and lapped at her undulating breasts, leaving wet trails down them. He kissed her ribs and her stomach and her hips, making her twitch and giggled and sigh all together. He kissed her mottled and heated thighs. When he removed his thumb from her sex Rassa's utterance of protest did not even reach her lips before he replaced it with his mouth.
She lay back and allowed her body to relax as Sandor spoiled her with his mouth and hands. He licked and sucked hungrily at her little cluster of nerves, sending minute spasms of ecstasy up through her, while his finger worked on her deeper pleasure centre. Soon he added his second finger, pressing mercilessly at her core and eliciting loud baritone moans that would have shamed her if she had the sense to care. He was infinitely patient, Rassa could help observing. His own desire was clearly showing through his linens, yet he would not remove himself from her sex until she was satisfied.
He did not have to wait too long. Soon Rassa lost control of her body, allowing it to surge against his mouth and fingers as the compressed sensation in her groin released in a shuddering wave of pleasure. Rassa cried out loud, her legs and arms trembling, useless additions to her tingling body.
Sandor was there: hovering over her, kissing her face and neck. He kissed her warmly and she could taste herself. She recoiled from him. "I'm on your lips." She laughed.
He smiled back, still trying to catch her mouth. "You taste good, trust me."
"Don't be disgusting."
"So sweet." He grabbed her face roughly and kissed her sloppily. Rassa giggled and resisted at first, until he decided to kiss her properly. It was surprising how well a man with half his lips burned off could kiss, but Rassa had learned quickly that Sandor did not do anything half-heartedly, and kissing was no exception. He put all of his passion and all of his rage into every movement of his mouth, overcoming her until she became heated and prone in his arms.
Rassa hummed contentedly against his mouth. But she still wanted more, she tugged sharply at the strings of his tunic, loosening the neck, then crept her way down to the hem of the garment and tugged subtly. Sandor raised himself off her and she eagerly whipped it over his head. His torso was a sight to behold; lean and muscular and punctuated by regular scars from his years as a sword. A sparse covering of black hair lay across his chest, with a thin line trailing down into his underpants, inviting her to look at the considerable tent in the linen. She trailed her hands over the length and breadth of his upper body as he lavished her neck and shoulder line with attention. His skin was soft and warm, his muscles firm and the black hair on his chest proved fun to play with; it was fine and not particularly long, but he jumped and twitched depending on how hard she tugged it. Still, he was a man, and not without his flaws. Rassa raised an eyebrow at him and laughed as she clutched his little deposits of fat. Sandor just rolled his eyes.
Eventually, her hands grew tired of this new region. Rassa grew eager to see what his lower half looked like. She trailed her fingers along his waistline. Sandor shuddered, but did not protest, so she slipped her hands zealously into his linens. She caressed his hips and as much of his ripped thighs as she could reach. She cupped his behind, provoking a harsh grunt. Sandor had stopped kissing her now; instead he leaned on one arm and observed her as she explored his body. There was only one part left to touch, they both knew that. When Rassa looked at him, she almost thought she saw a glimmer of apprehension in his eyes. She slipped one hand around his hip and shyly teased the side of his member with it. Sandor shivered but did not utter a sound, he was intent upon her. Rassa moved his fingers over his length, wrapping them around his engorged sex. She held him tightly and moved her hand in a slow, confident stroke. Sandor breathed deeply and let his hips move against the motion. When she reached his base, Rassa released him, seeking to explore his other parts as well. She could not help noting the look on his face with some amusement; clearly Westerosi girls did not treat the testicles in this fashion. She cupped them gently in her hand and used her fingers to carefully manipulate them. Sandor lowered his head and bit his lip against his heavy breathing. He clearly did not know how to react to this, but he certainly did not find it unpleasant.
Rassa let go of his parts. She had had enough of playing. She forced his hips upwards. Sandor complied and allowed her to pull his pants down and cast them aside. It was shocking how being naked could make anyone seem vulnerable. Sandor Clegane was a large, intimidating man, yet the sight of him naked reminded Rassa that under it all he was still very human. Even his penis, which was large and almost rigid at this point, seemed strangely delicate. His demeanour did not help. Rassa kissed his cheek and pulled him against her, but he still seemed slightly lost. "Are you sure you want this?" There was a note in his voice she had never heard before.
"Yes." She assured him, running a hand affectionately through his long hair. "Why? What is it?"
"It's just…" He blushed. "I-I don't believe I've ever had sex that hasn't paid for before."
Rassa laughed and kissed him. "Neither have I."
"Oh." Pressure alleviated, he kissed her back and poised his member at her entrance. Rassa reached between them and ardently pulled him in. He paused for a moment with only his tip inside her, gathering himself. When he finally pushed his member all the way in Rassa broke their kiss with a gasp. "Did I hurt you?"
"No!" Rassa replied urgently, holding his hips against hers lest he should retract his offer. "No."
Sandor began to move within her, his thick member spoiling her walls, making Rassa vocalise carelessly. It was amazing how good sex could feel when you wanted it. Sandor Clegane was neither considerably skilled nor considerably well endowed, yet when he was inside her she was filled with warmth and a sense of bliss the like of which she had never felt before. Her heart swelled and her body quickened at his every touch. She never wanted it to end.
Sandor picked up a steady rhythm and Rassa soon followed his example. When she lifted her hips to meet his the first time he jolted and moaned loudly, obviously impressed by her enthusiasm. He gripped her hips and guided her against him, Rassa did likewise, pushing his buttocks down, encouraging him to be bolder. He picked that up quickly and deepened his thrusts, arching his back dramatically before curving into her, hitting that sweet spot clumsily and making her whisper her praise. As she grew warmer, she quickened her pace, Sandor gasped at the sudden change in tempo, but soon caught up, leaning close over her neck like she were a galloping horse. His breathing was a scraping noise next to her ear, emphasised by spasmodic gasps, sigh and grunts.
Rassa was drawing close to her end. She could feel it she made a sharp, frustrated sound and clawed desperately at his hips, urging him to go harder, faster, deeper. Sandor let out a whimper unbecoming of a man of his size and tended to her whims heartily. He had already been hitting her core with increasing precision, when he began to pound against it with renewed vigour; his increase in speed driving him straight against, Rassa wrapped her legs around him and called out. She did not know what she said; it could have been the name of some god, his name, or random gibberish, it did not matter. Sandor took no heed of it either; when Rassa looked at him she saw the growing desperation and strain in his face. He was hurtling towards the edge, taking her with him. She wrapped her legs around him as pulses of pleasure coursed violently through her, shaking her limbs and soon enough her entire body in a tingling torrent of joy. She moved quicker, quicker, with him, hearing his high pitched exclamations and watching his face crease and knot as he lost control of himself. Sandor soon let out a frustrated grunt and mercilessly drove himself into her, going faster, faster, faster. Rassa vaulted her hips up against him and moaned loudly in relief, reaching her climax first, Sandor hot on her heels. He issued a stifled roar thorough gritted teeth and Rassa felt his warm seed spill inside her. He trembled once, twice, three times, emitting "Ah-ahh"s of relief. He looked up, his face covered in a gathering sheen of sweat and smiled. Rassa kissed him, still hazy from her own orgasm. Sandor slipped out of her and lowered himself clumsily onto the bed beside her.
As they cooled down, Sandor turned his head to her. "Did you, um." He licked his lips. "Was it good? Did you like it?"
Rassa snorted and pinched his nipple, making him yowl. "Did I not seem like I liked it?"
"Yes. I was just making sure." Sandor grumbled.
Rassa raised herself wearily and kissed him. "It was great."
He grinned cockily. "It was, wasn't it?"
She slapped his cheek lightly before nestling herself against him. He put an arm around her and was soon snoring, but Rassa never heard; she had already drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
