Authors Notes: I know, I know, I am a bad person…no respect for the sanctity and inviolable nature of a relationship between ONE man and ONE woman… So sue me… :-)

Summary: "Why wait? We can talk right now if we leave the little wolf with the cart." He grabbed Sansa without hesitation into his arms and lifted her onto Stranger's back, freeing the reins with one hand and mounting the snorting horse in one smooth motion. Sansa didn't have time to react before she found herself sitting in Sandor's lap, resting against his thigh, supported by his strong arm around her waist.


Sansa

Sansa woke up early as usual, when the first rays of sun peeked through the window and landed on her face. She stretched, yawned and only gradually became conscious of the form sleeping beside her. The memories of the previous night flooded her mind and she felt her cheeks reddening. Not because of the things she had done – but with whom…

She cast a cautious look at Jaime who slept on his back, his arms crossed under his head in a familiar pose she had seen many times on their journey to the North. Except this time he was naked, the covers pushed aside so she could see his whole body in a relaxed pose. Her gaze flitted lower towards the dark blond curls on his groin and his manhood resting against his thigh. Her blush deepened, and feeling like an intruder she quickly looked away. Peeking at his face she saw that he was sleeping peacefully, his mouth slightly open, his handsome features tranquil.

While Sansa observed Jaime she tried to dissect her own sentiments. She hadn't consciously planned to lay with him, but she had been aware that it would happen one day. Jaime had been such a perfect knight for so long, so courteous and mindful of her wishes, that seeing him like he had been the previous evening had been as unexpected as it had been exciting. To hear him say that he truly wanted her, and to feel him touch her so brazenly had stirred the sensual side in her, so thoroughly awakened by her experiences with Sandor.

As she watched Jaime she saw the same ray of sunshine that had woken her travelling across his face, making him squint. He shifted, the rhythm of his breathing changed and he opened his eyes, looking straight into Sansa's. He smiled, not his usual smug grin but a sincere smile that lifted the corners of his mouth only slightly but reached all the way to his green eyes.

"Good morning, my lady wife."

"Good morning, my lord husband."

For a moment they regarded each other. Sansa had expected to be more embarrassed, more self-conscious, more something, but all she could feel was total relaxation, as always in his company.

"No maester coming to examine our sheets this morning," Jaime quipped, and there was his smirk again.

"No indeed – as far as they are concerned we have already consummated our union weeks ago." Sansa adopted the same light tone Jaime had. Yet in front of her eyes Jaime's expression became serious.

"Regrets?"

"No. You?"

Jaime laughed, a brief, dry snort. "Regrets for having finally bedded my wife, the beauty of the North? Not likely!"

He turned onto his side, pulled the blanket to cover his nakedness and extended his hand to Sansa's cheek. "Although I confess I hoped I were more sober, to appreciate every little detail. But tell me Sansa, and tell it true; did I force myself upon you?"

Before Sansa had a chance to reply, he continued. "I don't mean by strength, but with my words. I spoke out of line; I had drunk too much and those fools bleating about my good fortune and envying my nights with the most beautiful woman in the realm got the better of me. Quite unusual, really; it has been a long time since the goading of idiots has raised my hackles so much."

Sansa pressed her cheek against Jaime's hand and closed her eyes. "You didn't make me to do anything I wasn't prepared to do. We are wedded after all."

Jaime's fingers traced the outline of her face and dropped to her neck. Sansa shifted. She had meant every word, but wasn't sure if she wanted to repeat the experience quite as soon as this. She needed some time to think it over.

"Jaime," she started but didn't have to continue, Jaime withdrawing his hand immediately.

"Will you tell Sandor?" he muttered. Sansa didn't have to even think about her answer.

"I will. He is not going to be surprised; he has actually assumed we would have done this earlier. He has asked me a few times and hasn't understood why you haven't claimed your rights."

"Yes, I am sure he finds it hard to comprehend how anyone would be able to resist your charms this long. An opinion I have to share, mind you. It was not a matter of whether I wanted to or not, I just didn't want to pressure you."

"I appreciate that, I really do. You are a much better man than you sometimes give yourself credit for."

He smiled again, then looked as if he wanted to ask something judging from the way his eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"What is it?" Sansa asked, curious about what could make the Lion of Lannister so unsure; he who had no fear of speaking his mind to anyone. He didn't reply at once but only after a long silence.

"Do you still take moon tea?"

She drew a deep breath. As a matter of fact she still did, although after the wedding there would have been no questions asked should she find herself with child. Yet she knew how badly Jaime wanted children of his own…She made up her mind in that moment.

"I have, until this time, but I shall not take it anymore. If the gods see it fit to bless us, I will be glad of it."

Jaime swallowed and despite his attempts to look unaffected, he appeared pleased. Again his fingers sneaked towards her, but Sansa stopped them with her hand before they reached her.

"It is time to get up," she said softly, hoping he wouldn't take the rejection badly. It seemed that he didn't, as he only brushed her hair away from her shoulder, grinned and turned, getting up in one fluid movement. He scooped his tunic and breeches from the floor and when he turned towards Sansa his modesty was protected by the bundle of clothes.

"I understand, better for me not to push my luck! I leave you then, my fair lady, I am sure there is something useful I can do around the keep." He bowed to her graciously, as if he were standing in front of the queen herself in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, then turned and walked into his room. Sansa had a good look at his strong back, firm buttocks and powerful legs as he strode away from her, and she found herself staring at the door a long time after it had banged shut.

She stretched herself again, feeling a tingling all through her body from head to toe as she burrowed deeper into the mattress and smiled to herself. Instinctively her hand crept over her belly and pressed against it. Her decision, although made impulsively, made perfect sense to her even when she gave it some more thought. She wanted to carry a child and Jaime wanted that more than anything. Sandor would be delighted as well, that much she was sure of, although they hadn't really discussed it in detail after Jaime's cryptic comments about cubs and pups.

Sansa frowned. Did Jaime expect her to bar Sandor from her bed? No, he couldn't be asking that. Besides, she didn't want to do it. She also concluded that if she was blessed with a child, she would welcome it without asking whose seed it came from. The thought brought yet another grin to her face and she pressed her hands more firmly against her stomach, wondering if it was possible that a new life was already taking hold in her womb. A quick calculation in her head told her that it could be so, based on what Lenore had told her about those things.

Eventually she had to get up and get ready to face the day. While she dressed she found herself humming a cheerful tune.


Arya dropped onto the seat next to Sansa, grimacing as her foot hit the floor of the carriage. She had insisted on joining Sansa on her planned trip to Winter Town, but as she had twisted her ankle in practice the previous day they had to use a small cart instead of riding on horseback as Sansa had intended. She didn't mind though, she enjoyed spending time with her sister. Arya was so busy most days: studying with Maester Weimar, a man with the patience of a saint, practicing her swordsmanship in the training yard, spending many hours with Brienne and Jaime – and of course with Gendry.

"What drove you to come with me today?" Sansa couldn't help asking, cautiously eyeing Arya's swollen foot.

"I have important things to take care of," huffed Arya, concentrating on getting a better position on the rickety seat. Sansa gave a sign to the driver, one of the old stablehands, and the cart started to move. Sandor followed behind them on Stranger, a vigilant sworn shield as always.

Sansa wanted to discuss what had taken place with him, knowing that she didn't want to keep it to herself any longer than necessary. Besides, Sandor had expected that to happen sooner or later and would surely not be in a position to be judgmental. She had tried to catch his eye as they prepared to get on their way, but there had always been someone else in their presence so she hadn't had an opportunity to say anything. Sansa consoled herself that she would have a better chance to address him in Winter Town, after leaving the cart and Arya having disappeared to run her errands, whatever they may be. Not that she could explain it all to him there, but she could ask him to come to her rooms that night.

They travelled on, Sansa admiring the passing landscape from a small window. Fertile fields, lush forests, meadows with fat cows and woolly sheep as far as the eye could see. The North was recovering and fast, peace and the postponement of winter boosting its wellbeing. Suddenly Arya broke the silence.

"Is there a wise woman in Winter Town, someone who knows herblore and the ways of women?" Sansa turned to her, surprised by the question.

"Yes there is. A few, as a matter of fact; one who has lived there all her life and another from beyond the Wall, who has wildling knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"I need to get some moon tea."

"Moon tea?"

"Yes, an herbal concoction that prevents women from giving birth to bastards if they don't want to. I'll bet you'd know something about it; I'll wager you have had it yourself since you took the dog into your bed." Arya's words were softened by her wry smile.

"I know what moon tea is. So you…" Sansa didn't know how to finish the sentence. She had sensed that Arya was not an innocent maiden anymore – in more ways than one, in mind or soul - but this was still a subject she didn't know how to approach. "It is Gendry, is it?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Of course it is Gendry. Or do you think I entertain the troops of Winterfell?"

Sansa blushed. "Of course not, don't be foolish. I just wasn't sure how serious it is between you two. How long have you…?" Again she didn't find the words to continue.

Arya sighed. "Since yesterday. He came to see me in my room, wanted to rub my ankle with some ointment he had learned to use with the Brotherhood Without Banners. I let him, and one thing led to another, and…"

This time Sansa interrupted her. "Oh, I understand. That's why you are in such a hurry." Arya nodded. Sansa looked at her thoughtfully. "This was not your first time, was it?"

"No it wasn't. In Braavos I had given up any thoughts of ever being a lady again, having heard that Winterfell was on its knees and the Starks scattered to the four winds. Cat of the Canals didn't have to worry about things that might have been important for Lady Arya Stark, and so I explored." She beamed at Sansa, her dark eyes full of quiet amusement.

"How did you take care of yourself then?"

"Pure luck, I suspect. And I was lucky with my companions who were kind enough to pull away in time," Arya responded matter-of-factly. Sansa was taken aback hearing her talking about it so pragmatically. Yet she was also glad about her practicality. She coughed.

"You don't have to go to see wise women. You could have just asked me; as you rightly pointed out, I have some. As a matter of fact, you can have all my stores as I am not going to drink it anymore."

Arya's studied her under her brow. "Aha. But what will the lion say if you bring pups into his lair?"

"They may be cubs, just as well." Sansa squirmed on her seat but she had to be honest. They were sisters, after all. Arya broke into a wide grin.

"Who are you and what have you done with my proper lady sister? I swear I never would have imagined you breaking the rules so blatantly! What are my little missteps compared to this? Nothing!"

Sansa held her head up high to meet her mirth. Arya was clearly brightened up by the news and sat up leaning towards Sansa, forgetting her foot for a second and paying the price as the pressure on her ankle made her grimace. She leaned back, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

"And both your men take it as calmly as you? They take you as calmly as that? Do you entertain them both in your chambers at the same time?"

Sansa blushed again. What was it that made people immediately think about the most scandalous possibilities; first Daenerys, now Arya. The images her discussion with Daenerys had raised in her head were nothing but indecent - yet she hadn't been able to shake them away. Sometimes when they sat in her solar; she, Jaime and Sandor, and she looked at them, so comfortable and at ease in each other's company, they came back to haunt her. Just to think of Jaime's soft touch and feline sensuality and the visceral way Sandor possessed her… Gods, if they knew the thoughts inside her head! Once more pushing those wicked ideas away, Sansa tried to gather her dignity and responded to her sister with her best composure.

"Shush, that is an unseemly thing to say and you know it. You only want to tease me and think you have a weapon with which to do it." She gathered her skirts around her and stood up just a bit straighter. Despite her delight Arya narrowed her eyes as she studied her.

"Not necessarily so unseemly. I did small favours to some of the famous courtesans of Braavos and one of them, the most beautiful of all, did sometimes entertain more than one client at a time. I heard it said that many came to visit her especially for that; best friends or brothers in arms, and she made it all beautiful and elegant."

"Do you compare me to the courtesans of Braavos?"

"No I don't; they charge for their favours and you give them for free. For what - love? For protection?"

Sansa was getting mightily annoyed. Without thinking she shot back.

"And you and Gendry? You give your favours for what purpose? Or is he only a fuck to you?"

The sisters stared at each other across the confined space. Part of Sansa was horrified; yes, she sometimes used coarse language in the heat of passion when she was with Sandor, as that seemed to excite him and admittedly thrilled her as well – but not with other people, not like this!

Then the corners of Arya's mouth started to twitch and Sansa too started to see the humour in the situation; Ladies of House Stark arguing over fucking! She let out a giggle that was followed by Arya's loud laughter and soon they both laughed so hard that in the end they wheezed and struggled to draw a breath.

"Oh Arya, I am sorry, I don't know what came over me!" Sansa gasped, patting Arya's knee. Arya responded by placing her hand on top of Sansa's.

"Don't apologise, your question is a perfectly reasonable one! What is Gendry to me? I don't know. All I know is that he is my best friend and has been ever since we first travelled together.

"I am glad for you, I honestly am. But you know that you can't marry him, don't you?"

Arya groaned. "I know, I know. I am supposed to marry some idiot lord or ser. For the honour of House Stark."

Sansa couldn't help her curiosity, judging Arya as possibly being amenable to answering the question that had dogged her mind for a while.

"Did Aegon propose to you? He is on a mission to find a bride among the noble families of Westeros, as you know. And Jaime tells me Tyrion mentioned you as a possibility already a long time ago, even before you were found. And he seemed very fond of you."

"Yes he did. He wanted me to follow him to King's Landing straight away."

Sansa was surprised – she had expected as much, but that Arya hadn't even mentioned that to her…

"What did you say to him?"

Again Arya rolled her eyes as if Sansa was particularly slow-witted. "I am still here, aren't I? I turned him down, of course."

"Because of Gendry?"

Arya worried her lower lip before responding. "Yes. I have just found him again and I'd hate us to be parted this soon. Besides, Aegon doesn't care about me as Gendry does; he only wants me for my status as a daughter of House Stark."

Sansa leaned towards her sister and took her hand into her own. It was small but calloused, her fingertips rough.

"Would you believe me if I say I know exactly how you feel? That's how I felt when Jaime first suggested our marriage. Yet it has all turned out well."

Arya laughed out loud. "Yes, because Jaime himself is not exactly a beacon of respectability and propriety in these matters! He can turn a blind eye, as strange as it may be, but I suspect Aegon wouldn't be quite as understanding."

Sansa didn't let go of Arya's hand. "How would you know? Targaryens are no strangers to marriages with three people in them, and Daenerys herself has made it clear that even after her wedding she has no plans to put Ser Jorah aside."

Arya eyed her suspiciously. Sansa felt her heart tightening at the thought of her wild and damaged little sister having such strong feelings. Yet they had a duty, both of them, to think about the legacy of their house and the security of its future.

The cart started to slow down; they had reached Winter Town and they had to drop the matter. Yet Sansa knew they would discuss it again.


Having taken care of her errands, Sansa was ready to get back to Winterfell. Arya hadn't joined her, only visiting a few nearby shops into which she could hobble without too much stress on her foot. Sandor had followed his lady, as usual a few steps behind, and just as they reached Stranger who was patiently waiting behind the cart Sansa recognised her chance for a moment of relative privacy and stopped, turning towards him.

"Can you come to my rooms tonight? I would like to discuss something with you."

Sandor watched her sharply without saying a word. He had been unusually quiet that day – not that he ever was a chatterbox by any means. Sansa felt herself shrinking under his scrutiny although she fought against it. She hadn't done anything wrong, and besides, Sandor wouldn't know what she wanted to talk about anyway. She was sure Sandor hadn't seen Jaime that morning and how else could he find out?

"Why wait? We can talk right now if we leave the little wolf with the cart." He grabbed Sansa without hesitation into his arms and lifted her onto Stranger's back, freeing the reins with one hand and mounting the snorting horse in one smooth motion. Sansa didn't have time to react before she found herself sitting in Sandor's lap, resting against his thigh, supported by his strong arm around her waist.

"What are you doing?!" She struggled in an effort to free herself, shocked by the blatant way Sandor was handling her.

"You said that once married you have to answer only to your husband for your behaviour, did you not? Well, I am sure Jaime would not object, or if he does, he can say that to my face later," Sandor muttered, turned Stranger around and headed towards the village gate. Sansa stopped her squirming, having concluded that it would draw even more attention than her accepting the situation with dignity.

She could see the raised eyebrows and people pointing in their direction as they rode across the square. Sandor didn't seem to be in a hurry, giving Stranger a loose rein, as if there was nothing unusual in having the Lady of the Keep – and a very married lady at that - sitting practically in the arms of her sworn shield while strolling through the largest village in her domain. She heard Sandor shouting over his shoulder to the stablehand to take Lady Arya back to the keep, saw the man nod and step down to help Arya into the cart. She recognised her sister's astonishment that gradually turned into a wide grin before Sansa turned to watch the path ahead.

He wants to make his claim on me. What Sandor had done was scandalous, especially as the situation didn't warrant it – she'd had the cart ready and waiting. Whether this was Sandor's patience finally breaking, or the remnants of the man who had been used to taking what he wanted without giving thought to propriety or the wishes of others, she couldn't be sure. Yet she mustn't be seen to fight him, as surely that would make tongues wag even more.

So Sansa adjusted her position to be as comfortable as possible, smoothing the skirt of her dress to settle across Stranger's shoulders. She raised her head and looked straight ahead without a glance at the people who parted like stalks of wheat when wind blows across a field. When Sandor leaned towards her, for one panicked second she thought he was going to kiss her, right then and there, but he only extended his hand to free the reins from under her dress. As if knowing what had just flitted through her mind he smirked as he straightened himself.

Besides, the feel of Sandor's solid body against her back, the way her own angled into his embrace and into Stranger's even gait reminded her of the time when they first shared a horse after escaping the mountain men. Then she had still been wary of him, bewildered by the sensations their closeness had made her feel.

Maybe Sandor is right. It is only my husband I have to justify myself to. And Jaime wouldn't mind. She leaned more heavily against Sandor and rested her head against his shoulder. She felt like she had as a child, safe and sound in her father's arms when Lord Eddard had sometimes allowed her to ride with him. After they left the village Sandor increased their pace to a comfortable trot and nudged her with his elbow.

"You wanted to talk about something, you said. We can talk now."

Sansa wasn't sure if she wanted to bring up the subject there. She preferred the privacy of her rooms, the knowledge that she would have his full attention and that they were not going to be interrupted by anyone. She shrugged her shoulders.

"It can wait. I would rather have you with me in the evening. So you see, you didn't have to scandalise the whole village for this."

Sandor glanced at her, amused. "You think I did this to scandalise some scrawny peasants? Did it not occur to you that I might want to have you in my arms just for the pleasure of it? That I might not want to wait until the evening?"

Sansa didn't answer him in words, but squeezed his thigh with her hand. He responded by throwing a quick look around them and seeing nobody, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. He let go soon enough and they continued in silence, both enjoying their unexpected proximity.

Sansa became increasingly conscious of him as they rode on. She felt how Sandor's powerful thighs tensed as he guided Stranger with his posture; she pressed her face against his chest and savoured his musky scent. Her fingers travelled down his body, letting go of the hold she had on him in the safe knowledge that he would not let her fall, and made their way across his stomach to his groin. She only brushed across it, but that – and the unmistakable feel of his hardening manhood against her thigh – was enough to convince her that Sandor was as aroused as she was. Finally they saw the walls of Winterfell in their vision and Sandor's grip on her waist tightened.

"Do you want me to let you down so you can slip into the keep by a side gate? Or drop you in front of the Great Hall? Or, as I would want to, go straight to the stables, hand Stranger to a stableboy and take you directly into your chambers?" His lips brushed against her hair as he spoke and the sensation made Sansa shiver. She knew she didn't have anything waiting for her in the keep that couldn't be postponed.

"No, no and yes," she whispered, being rewarded by a soft curse and another squeeze of his arm. Sandor urged Stranger into a gallop and they flew through Winterfell's gates, not stopping before they reached the stables. Sandor dismounted, bellowed for someone to take his horse and helped Sansa down. When it looked like he was about to throw her across his shoulder Sansa stopped him with a firm gesture. Already the soldiers milling around them threw worried looks in their direction, probably wondering what was amiss with their lady for her to arrive in such an unconventional way.

"I can walk on my own, thank you very much." Sandor grunted but let her go and so they walked, Sansa leading the way. She heard Sandor's heavy breathing behind her and that hastened her own steps. She felt the same reckless anticipation as he undoubtedly did, heat pooling in her belly at the thought of soon being embraced by her lover…

Hardly had the door closed behind them when they fell upon each other, hungrily, greedily, tearing their clothes off and kissing every piece of exposed skin as they did so. Sandor lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Although a quick recognition that only a few hours ago she had lain on those same sheets while being devoured by another man crossed Sansa's mind, she didn't dwell on it.


Afterwards Sansa snuggled against Sandor's side, burrowing into his armpit, breathing in his heady fragrance. He let her, lifting his arm to accommodate her better.

"You and the lion have fucked, no use telling me you haven't." Sandor's voice was calm and composed. For a brief moment Sansa held her breath, then lifted her head and stared at him.

"Yes, we have consummated our marriage. You knew it was only a matter of time." She fell down again, wondering if she had misjudged the situation. Would Sandor be mad at her? If he was, that would be so unfair and wholly disappointing.

"How was it? Was he good to you?" Still his tone didn't reveal anything more than mild curiosity and slight concern.

"He was kind. But how did you know? Did you see him this morning?"

"I only had to see you to know it. I am still a hound, remember, I can smell these things." Sandor lifted his finger and pressed his nose. Sansa touched it with her own fingers and continued down to his lips.

"And?"

"And nothing. It is as we all knew it would be. You need an heir to the North and the Lion wants a cub of his own." Sansa lifted herself into a seated position and stared at her lover, who looked up at her, a slightly challenging expression on his face.

"I have decided I will not take moon tea anymore. You know I have had it until now."

"And you still allowed me into your bed and didn't tell me to pull away when I was about to spend myself?" His uncertainty touched Sansa. How could he still doubt the strength of her feelings? She smiled at him.

"Why would I do that? It is in the hands of the gods now."

Sandor frowned. "You think even this time…?"

"Yes, even this time. I am ready." It amused Sansa to see the internal workings of his mind playing so openly on his face. Puzzlement, calculation, the firm set of his jaw as he came to a conclusion.

"Looks like I have another battle in my hands with the Kingslayer, one that is not fought with weapons." Sansa laughed and leaned to kiss him in the mouth.

"Not with swords made of steel, at least," she teased him and shrieked as Sandor chuckled and pulled her down, rolling on top of her and covering her mouth with his own.


When Sansa announced to Lenore later that evening that she wouldn't need her moon tea anymore, her maid threw a shrewd look at her. Sansa knew that she wouldn't be able to keep the secret of what had happened from Lenore for long; at least not if it happened again. Not that she wanted to; her maid has been there for her, a one solid presence, her only woman friend to whom she could confide in regarding matters that Sandor or Jaime simply couldn't understand.

She stopped in her tracks. Will it happen again? Do I want it to?

Thinking back she blushed anew. Jaime had been…it had been obvious that he had a thorough knowledge of the female body and its reactions. She winced remembering where he had learned it, but determinedly pushed the thought out of her mind. Yet Jaime hadn't exaggerated when he had said that he wasn't completely useless in pleasing a woman.

No, his touch had been persuasive and assured, he had known how to make Sansa sing… He had been hurried, admittedly, almost as if he had been afraid that if he hesitated, the opportunity would be snatched out of his reach. Nonetheless, Sansa was sure that with less urgency Jaime would take his time and show her what true pleasure in the hands of an experienced man was. As for her, she had been intrigued and aroused by his body and his responses to her. So different… Sansa shook her head almost imperceptibly, refusing to compare him to Sandor. Even thinking about it made her ashamed, as it was not only futile but also unfair.

Immersed in her thoughts she sat on her bed. Suddenly she realised that she wanted Jaime to touch her again. Her desire mortified her but also raised her defiance. Yes, she was a woman wedded; yes, she had a husband and a lover. There were other women in the same situation; the only difference in her case was that her men knew about each other. So what?

She slept restlessly that night, haunted by vivid, sensual dreams that made her toss and turn until she was sweaty and heaving, but which she couldn't remember in the morning.