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CHAPTER 13

The next few weeks passed in a familiar routine for Sansa. Every morning Sandor would get up, trying not to wake her, though she always rose with him. She would help him don his armor in silence; worrying about what unspeakable things he would be doing during the long hours away from her. She never voiced her concerns, not since that first night, knowing he would not take her seriously. Once dressed, he would kiss her, placing a hand on her rapidly swelling stomach before leaving.

Once he was gone, she would go downstairs and help Coraine serve the patrons of the inn. She'd given the woman a fake name, Luanne, to avoid suspicion. Navigating the tables was becoming increasingly more difficult now that her stomach overshadowed her feet. Her same dress now stretched uncomfortably across her middle, and she could no longer lace her corset. She regretted the day that she'd no longer be able to work.

On this morning, she was making pleasant conversation with a table of dark, loud men, pouring them wine and laughing at a rather inappropriate joke they had made.

When she returned to the kitchen, Coraine called for her by her alias and pulled her aside to a small alcove with a table.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" she asked sincerely, placing a gentle hand on Sansa's belly. She smiled at the kindly woman.

"Well," she replied almost truthfully. "The sickness is…unpleasant. But not bleeding is well received." The woman smiled.

"I made you this," she pulled what seemed to be a piece of cloth from the table and unfurled it. "It's nothing fancy, but you cannot wear that gown for much longer."

The cloth was a dress, Sansa realized. It was deep blue, a popular color for women to wear in Braavos. As she'd said, it was very simple, made of inexpensive material and sewn only mediocrely. Tears welled in her eyes at this simple gesture of friendship, and she blamed it on her constant mood swings.

"Thank you. Truly," she said, taking the dress from Coraine and holding it up. There was a substantial amount of room in the midsection, allowing her room to grow in the coming months.

"You're already showing quite a bit, and it's only been a few months. Hopefully this will fit up until the end."

She was in their room that night after Coraine had let her go, holding up the dress to her body when the door flew open.

"You'll never believe-" she started, turning. When she saw him standing in the doorway, covered in blood, she dropped to the floor, unconscious.

"Fucking hell," Sandor bellowed, rushing into the room to where she'd fallen on the floor. She'd dropped on her side; that was good he thought. He didn't know much about pregnancy, but he knew enough to know that falling on her front would have been bad. He brushed her hair from her face and saw her eyes were shut tight. He shook her lightly.

"Sansa," he whispered, but she did not wake. "Come on, girl," he said gruffly. He looked around the room frantically and saw the tub was already full of hot water; she must have been planning on bathing.

Gently and with clumsy, bloodstained fingers, he unlaced the back of her dress and pulled it gingerly off of her. He couldn't help but stare for a moment. He'd been so scared of hurting her since she told him of the child that they'd not been as close as in the past, and he'd been unaware of her bodily changes.

Her stomach jutted out from her small frame, making her look alien. Her skin was smooth and milky, but looked stretched at the impossibility of covering her swollen belly. He thought her pregnancy seemed rapid, but what did he know of such things.

She seemed even more fragile in this state, he realized in dismay; he hadn't thought she could ever seem more breakable.

Picking her up effortlessly, he eased her into the big tub. He began washing her arms with a rag, noting how unblemished her creamy skin was. He noticed then the bloodstains on his own skin and realization of her fainting spell dawned on him. Silly girl must've thought I was dying.

He quickly undressed and joined his unconscious wife in the tub, barely fitting. He scrubbed the blood from his body until his skin was raw and the water had a faint pink hue to it. He then continued washing the girl, lifting her head to clean her neck.

He tried not to get too much pleasure out of washing her breasts, now swollen and huge. He reprimanded himself, knowing her being unconscious was not the time to lust after her.

Slowly, Sansa's eyes opened, blinking rapidly as she tried to piece together where she was and what was happening. The feeling of water startled her and she looked frantically for Sandor, relieved when she saw him sitting so close. She remembered blood and her brow knit together.

"You. I saw so much blood," she struggled to form the coherent thought.

"Not mine, little bird," he said softly, relieved that she was alright. "You scared the piss right outta me," he scolded her, sounding harsher than he meant to.

"I could say the same," she snapped back, working hard to manage a chiding tone. He barked out a laugh, but she could see he was relieved. She put a hand on his face.

"I was worried," she said, her tone changing curiously. He nodded though he was slightly annoyed by how little faith she had in him.

"I'm glad you're well, wife," he said, leaning into her warm, soft palm. She sighed at that, feeling worlds better.

"I could feel your hands on me," she said, leaning to whisper huskily in his ear. "I knew I must wake." Without warning, he was hard and aching for her hot cunt. She placed his hand on one of her breasts and bit her lip, making him wild. "They're so sensitive now," she whined and the sound made him groan internally.

He bent his head to kiss her neck, sucking on it as he massaged her breast. Sansa couldn't help the moans that came out of her; she'd never thought his touches could feel better but in this state it was like nothing she'd ever experienced. When he bit down on her collarbone she screamed, before clapping a hand over her mouth and giggling like a child. Sandor smiled at that.

While he pinched the nipple of one breast, he began sucking on the other. She tipped her head back, eyes closing at the feeling, keeping her hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. He whole-heartedly regretted these many weeks of abstinence when he'd been too afraid to touch her- he had no idea she needed it as badly as he did.

Water swirled around them as Sandor moved down, placing gentle hands on her stomach before kissing it and continuing his journey down with his fingers, until he found what he really wanted.

He slid one cautious finger slowly into her and all her attempts to muffle her screams did her no good. He smiled, drunk on her reaction and added his middle finger. He curled his fingers inside her, stretching her and making her ready. When his huge, hard cock found its way inside her Sansa thought she would surely pass out again. She was seeing stars and her head was spinning as he drove into her.

He pumped in and out of her, much more gently than he would have liked, but it soothed his aching cock. He held her body as she rode him, making sure she didn't get jostled too much. He moaned like an animal when he came, and she matched him with a scream, and he hoped the walls somewhat masked sound. She panted with the exertion and said,

"Unfortunately I don't think I got very clean." Sandor snorted and stood up, showering the room with water drops. He got out of the tub and toweled off and set another towel on the bed. He gently lifted her out of the bath and set her on the towel, much to her displeasure.

"I'm not made of glass, you know," she said indignantly and he snorted again.

"May as well be," he muttered, drying her off. When she was sufficiently dry she stood, wobbling a little, and found her nightdress, yanking it over her head. Sandor noticed how the material pulled and strained at her stomach and felt proud, knowing it was his child that he'd put in her.

"What?" Sansa asked testily, feeling his eyes on her. Her hands were on her hips in an instant, and she looked at him challengingly.

"Strange feeling," he muttered and she raised an eyebrow. "I've never fucked a pregnant woman before." Sansa stared at him, shocked for a moment. When it wore off she grabbed her hairbrush from her nightstand table and lobbed it at his head. He deflected it easily, shaking with laughter. Before she found something else to throw at him he got up and took both of her wrists in his hands, ignoring her pitiful attempts to fight back. His tone turned serious.

"There's nothing I love more in this whole fucking world than you, do you know that?" Her eyes softened and she nodded.

"You'll have to share some of that love when he comes," she crooned, looking at her stomach. Sandor nodded and kissed her belly before kissing her lips.