Chapter 4
She nodded, taking the offered hand and allowing him to lead her out of the hall towards his… their bedroom. Neither spoke but Roose could feel her trembling as they walked. Looking at her, he realised for the first time how young she was. The Lannisters had given him a child bride but one that had been strong enough to go through with the wedding; Walder Frey had been right; Sansa's strength came from Catelyn Stark. He wasn't sure if she was trembling out of fear of the wedding night itself or fear of him but he placed his spare hand on top of hers to calm her. He didn't know why he cared that she was scared or why he cared enough to reassure her but care he did. Sansa looked at him but he couldn't quite read the expression on her face.
"Why was there no bedding ceremony, my lord?" She asked weakly, saying the first thing that came into her head in a vain attempt to ease the tension.
"I didn't want other men touching what's mine to touch…" Sansa swallowed. "Would you have preferred there to be one?" He narrowed his eyes, again trying to read her.
"No my lord… I was… I was just curious." She said as they stopped moving, she was about to question why they had done so when she saw his hand reach out and turn the door handle. Then he took a step back gesturing for her to go in first.
Upon entering the room, Sansa noticed her things had indeed been placed neatly in the room and they fitted in next to his as though they belonged. She shivered at that thought, how could she possibly belong as Lady Bolton? She wasn't entirely sure what was expected of her so she focussed her attention on studying the room, scrutinising every detail. Roose was watching her, frowning, did it matter how the room looked?
"Does the room please you, my lady?" He found himself asking but he didn't know why. Why should he care if she was pleased? She was his now. He didn't need her to be pleased. She belonged to him.
"Yes my lord…" She trembled, noticing the two chalices and jug resting on the dressing table. She walked towards it, picked up the jug and turned to Lord Bolton. "My lord?"
"Not for me, but please help yourself." He said reminded of a similar conversation he had with her mother on the night she died. Roose took a seat on the bed, as she carefully poured a small volume of the liquid into one of the chalices. She raised it to her lips and took a drink. It was too sour for her and she was suddenly relieved that she hadn't drank at dinner. Sansa placed the chalice back down and turned to find an expectant Lord Bolton staring at her. She swallowed.
"Come here…" Sansa did as she was told. His hands reached around her to gently undo the laces of her wedding gown. Before long, the fine material was pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it and closer to her husband feeling vulnerable in only her silk shift. Sansa positioned her arms across her chest but Lord Bolton took hold and firmly placed them by her side. She flinched when his hands graced the exposed flesh of her shoulders as he unlaced the thin ribbons holding the garment up. That too landed in a pool at Sansa's feet. Now she was completely naked, standing in front of the Lord of the Dreadfort. Goosebumps were forming along her arms and she shivered.
Roose was admiring the view in front of him when the mirror above the dressing table caught his eye, as it showed what Roose couldn't see. "Turn around." He instructed her roughly.
"My lord?" Sansa asked suddenly fearful of what he would do when he saw the marks across her back. She had forgotten they were there.
"I believe you heard me, my lady." Slowly she turned, her eyes focussed on the floor. Roose gently reached and placed a hand on the longest scar tracing it with his index finger. "Why does someone so young have so many scars?"
"King Joffrey would have the King's guard beat me… he liked to…" Tears were pricking at her eyes threatening to fall. "He liked to hurt me." One succeeded in trickling down her cheek. Sensing her distress Roose turned her back around, positioning her between his legs and pulling her onto his lap. Another tear fell down her face, he caught it as it reached her cheek. For the second time that night, he was reminded of how young she was, so young and yet so much had happened to her. He placed a hand beneath her chin and turned her to face him. "My lady, you need not fear me. So long as you are dutiful and provide me with an heir, I shall not hurt you…" Sansa swallowed, blinking back tears. So he had no intentions of falling in love with her, of this being the marriage her parents had, she thought. Her heart sank, she may have escaped Kings Landing but she was still only a possession that had a use, for now at least.
"I think it is time we consummated this marriage." Sansa nodded. In an instant, his lips were trailing kisses along her neck. Gods he wanted her. His desire was evident in his eyes. Sansa was shocked: The Lord of the Dreadfort desired her, stupid, little Sansa Stark who had been cast aside by the king for the wife of a dead traitor. He wanted her. Lord Bolton's lips had made their way to her chest, slowly down to her breasts where he took the right in his mouth zigzagging his tongue across the nipple eliciting a moan from the girl beneath him. Sansa froze, embarrassed by the sound she had just made, a sound that aroused Roose even more. Rapidly, he picked her up and placed her on the bed before he continued his assault on her hardened nipple. Sansa gasped, placing her hands on Roose's chest as she leaned towards him. The contact reminded Roose that he was still fully clothed. He pulled away from her, unbuttoning the garment and casting it on the floor somewhere. Next came his under shirt. Sansa groaned in frustration at the loss of contact before blushing at the sound that had just left her mouth. Roose smirked. So Lady Sansa desired his touch. He smirked again at the thought before climbing back on top of her. Sansa gasped as a finger suddenly entered her. This was followed by a second finger. The two slowly massaged her folds avoiding her centre. Sansa bucked against his fingers in pleasure but stopped when she felt herself getting wet. She flushed, praying to the gods that he didn't notice. She was relieved when his fingers continued their movement. They did so for a few more moments before pulling away from her completely. Sansa was soaked now, dripping onto the furs. Suddenly a thought crossed her mind, what if he was displeased with her? Fear took hold of her.
"My lord?" She asked, sitting up.
"Lie back down." He instructed her. She did as was told, annoyed with herself for disappointing him. Roose unlaced his breeches, stepping out of them and climbing back onto the bed. Sansa sighed in relief as she felt the bed dip; he wasn't displeased. "This is going to hurt…" He informed her. "I will be as gentle as I can…" Sansa no longer felt scared, she was aroused, her heart was pounding in her chest. She was about to become a woman and that excited her besides, she was too overcome with the pleasure she was currently experiencing to feel anything else. Roose gently entered her. It was pleasurable at first before a pain sparked between her legs. Sansa cried out momentarily stopping Roose. He changed his position slightly in an attempt to make it more comfortable for her but to no avail. She was doing her best to keep the tears at bay as her hands gripped the furs tightly, her knuckles going white. He pushed in deeper, the tears were falling now. Damn, he had told her he would be gentle. Of course it was going to hurt but he hadn't expected her to cry. He pulled out slightly before pushing in deeper, this time there was no cry out just a wince. Relieved that the pain was more subdued, he quickened his pace slightly. Sansa gasped. Pleasure was slowly overwhelming the pain and once more she felt herself wet. Roose was so consumed for lust that Sansa's little gasps were spurning him on and his pace increased again. She cried out but he was losing control and her pain was suddenly insignificant to his pleasure. He could feel her close to her first orgasm and despite hurting her, sped up in the hope that it would bring him to his. Sansa felt her body convulse around Roose; a sense of something, she didn't quite know what, came over her and it felt good. She suddenly wanted more, pulling him closer to her. Roose responded by brushing his lips against hers before thrusting in and out of her more intensely.
"My lord…" Sansa called out, bringing Roose closer. She was still trembling from her first contractions when he felt the second set began and he prayed to the Gods that she climaxed before him. Roose was too overwhelmed by desire for her to respond, instead he slowed his thrusts into her. It was futile, he came spilling his seed in her. The magnitude of sensation engulfed her in a world of elation and brought on her second orgasm.
"Gods Sansa…" He said as collapsed against her, his head buried in her neck. He remained that like for a few moments, Sansa unsure of what to do, before he pulled out of her and rolled of her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against, wrapping the furs around them. His head was nestled in her hair. Sansa wanted to speak but she didn't know what to say. What did one say after that? It was Roose who spoke first.
"I was proud of you today…"
"My lord?" She asked weakly.
"Lord Frey, I can't imagine that was easy…" No more than marrying my brother's murderer she mused. "But you composed yourself with grace and… I was… proud." He confessed. It was true, he had been listening to the exchange between the two and had heard exactly what she had said to Lord Frey. "I think you will make a fine Lady Bolton…"
"You do… my lord?"
"Yes, I do. Especially after that performance…" He mused. Sansa felt her heart swell; perhaps they would have a marriage like her parents after all. But there was still a tiny slither of doubt in her mind as a voice reminded her of Robb. Poor Robb. Suddenly guilt washed over her as she realised she had betrayed her family and had enjoyed doing it. She felt sick. Who exactly was she married to? A fact dawned on her causing her to tense up: he wasn't afraid to murder innocent people, what if she ever displeased him or angered him? Would he kill her too?
Roose felt her tense up and sighing, he guessed why. "Sansa you do not need to be afraid of me…" He told her more abruptly than intended. Sansa nodded against him but still she couldn't shake the feeling of fear she now felt at being married to the Lord of the Dreadfort.
