"Come on," Sansa urged as she pulled Sandor's hand behind her. The two were descending down the guest tower stairs late that night; the sounds of their footsteps on the stone steps echoed throughout the tower, each one bringing Sansa a step closer to getting what she wanted.
Just a moment longer.
Earlier that evening, after the new arrivals from the Wall were settled, a large gathering took place in the Great Hall. While it was not a proper feast, it was just as lively. Most of the men in the hall became remarkably drunk and there was plenty to eat thanks to Daenerys' armies providing at least a hundred carts of food. The wildlings proved themselves to be sufficient entertainment during the gathering, putting the Northmen to shame in their drunken games involving daggers and ale. Sandor did not seem to pay much attention to the happenings inside of the hall; his gaze was fixated on Sansa and though she was fully dressed, she felt as if she were as naked as her nameday. He sat there, making love to her with his eyes, and she felt herself nearly peak when he rubbed the swell of her belly underneath the table.
Just a moment longer.
Following the gathering, Sansa and Sandor made their way through a gentle snow towards his bedchamber. As they climbed the stairs of the guest tower, Sandor gently pushed her against the stones midway up, kissing her desperately on the neck for all those who should chance upon them to see. Sansa wanted him inside of her even more than he did, but she could not alter her plans.
Just a moment longer.
Sansa pushed him off her with a playful smile and continued up the stairs, down the corridor, and into his bedchamber. A large tub was prepared inside and he eyed it suspiciously. Sansa stood in front of him and began removing his cloak.
"Sick of my stench already, girl?" he muttered before pulling her into another tantalizing embrace. Sansa smiled against his lips and tugged on his tunic.
"Go on, take it off." She pulled away from him and gave him a seductive smile, watching his eyes devour her. Sandor gave a small chuckle at her request and lifted his tunic off over his head. Sansa studied him as if he were the Warrior himself, watching as his muscles contracted underneath his skin, observing the scars that marked his body, surveying his size and strength; the visual of him was enough for Sansa to reconsider making them wait.
No, it will be worth it. Just a moment longer.
"Your turn, little bird." Sandor walked up to her and placed a hand on the back of her dress.
Sansa shook her head, and a mischievous smile played on her lips. "No, just you." She sat down next to the tub on her knees, tracing her fingers atop the warm water. When she met his gaze again, he looked as if he was in pain. Sansa could feel the throbbing in her sex, demanding that she have him now. As she stared at him towering over her from the ground, she wanted to strip down with him and sit on his length in the tub, connecting them as one for the first time in months.
No, just a moment longer.
Sandor grunted at her response and removed his boots and trousers. "So, we are playing a game, is that it?" he asked with a hint of frustration in his voice. Sansa wanted to laugh at how snarky he was becoming from the tension building. However, she was confident that once he became aware of why she was doing this, he would love her all the more for it.
Once he was stripped of his clothing, and fully aroused by the sight of his manhood, she pointed at the water. He sighed and climbed into the tub, spilling a small amount of water over the edges. Sansa pushed her fitted sleeves up on her arms and leaned over to pick up the soap and a cloth from the table. She began to caress his body with the cloth, cleaning the dirt and sweat he gathered to and from the Wall, as she bent over the tub on her knees. She noticed his eyes shift towards her ass and he sighed once more, throwing his head back in frustration. Sansa pretended not to notice and continued in silence. However, once her hand brushed his erect cock underneath the water, he grabbed her wrist tightly.
He looked at her with beggar's eyes and said, "Little bird, this is more agonizing than that bloody trip I took to the Wall." She leaned into his face and placed a soft, supple kiss on his marred cheek.
"Finish up, then. There are fresh clothes for you in the chest. I will be waiting," she stood up and tossed the cloth and soap into the tub, swiftly exiting out of his bedchambers. She was breathless as she stood in the corridor and could feel the thumping of her heart inside of her chest.
Just a moment longer.
Within a second, she heard the sound of water splashing once he stepped out of the tub. Minutes later, he opened the door rapidly, clad in the black cloak, tunic, and trousers she had sewn for him while he was away.
Gods, have I ever seen him so aggravated?
Sansa grabbed his right hand into hers and led him down the corridor in a sprint. She turned back to look at him and observed his disordered demeanor.
"Sansa, what in the bloody seven hells is going on?" he asked, matching her pace as they raced down the stairs. "You said you were not supposed to be running."
"I am holding onto you," she said. "Just don't let me trip or fall."
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs and exited the tower, Sansa pulled out a black cloth from her breast and gestured for him to bend forward.
"Gods, girl. What sort of game is this?" he asked as he bent forward despite his clear frustration. Sansa tied the cloth around his eyes and guided him towards their destination with her hand in his.
"A game you will like," she answered.
"After all of this, I am going to fuck you for a fortnight straight," he said in a tone that did not sound like he was exaggerating. Sansa giggled to herself and continued to lead him through the quiet yard in Winterfell.
As they walked, the snow clouds in the sky started to clear, allowing the moon to shine bright over the castle and guide them.
"We are almost there," she said, squeezing his hand to reassure him.
Just a moment longer.
Finally, Sansa brought them to her desired location. She was careful to lead him through a clear path so as to not trip over any roots or rocks hidden underneath the snow. But despite her caution, Sandor's height resulted in him hitting his head on a tree limb and Sansa heard him cursing under his breath. It took everything within her to suppress her laughter.
Enough of the teasing and torturing. Now is the moment.
Sansa stood still, stepping on her tiptoes to remove the blinding cloth from his eyes. When his eyes adjusted to the sight in front of him, his mouth gaped open and he remained speechless. He met Sansa's glance a moment later and she noticed that his eyes were glistening in the moonlight that spilled into the godswood.
Tears.
Sansa took his hand into hers again and walked down the torchlit path towards the front of the heart tree. Beside the black pool, Jon was there with Daenerys beside him, Arya stood behind Bran in his chair, and Beric and Thoros stood directly in front of the carved face.
"My Lady," Thoros greeted her with a genial smile. Sansa turned towards Sandor as they took their place to be wedded in sight of the old gods.
Sandor glanced at Jon for a moment and gave him a single nod. Daenerys held tightly onto Jon's arm as she watched the couple adoringly. Although Bran's face was blank, he somehow appeared more content, possibly even happy. And Arya, for once, did not scowl at Sandor.
Now.
Sansa placed her hands into his and stared up at him with eager, affectionate eyes. "Sandor Clegane, I love you," she whispered. Sansa turned towards Jon and smiled. At her gesture, Jon parted with Daenerys and walked up to the couple in front of the weirwood tree, taking one of Sansa's arms into his own.
"I might be a bastard," he began, "but Sansa is my sister and I am Lord Eddard Stark's eldest surviving son. I will be the one to give her away," he gave her a reassuring smile. Jon stood on Sansa's right side and gestured towards Thoros to begin.
This is not easy for him, but he kept his word. Again, he is more like our father than the rest of us could ever hope to be.
Thoros approached them and cleared his throat. "I know Northern weddings do not require priests, but I want to say I helped marry the Lady of Winterfell to my Brother Sandor Clegane," he grinned. "Who comes to be wed before the old gods?"
"Sansa of the House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, and Wardeness of the North comes here to be wed," Jon answered. "Who comes to claim her?" Jon turned to glance towards Sandor.
Sandor was speechless for a moment but took a deep breath before answering. "Sandor of House Clegane," his voice was gentler than Sansa had ever heard it before.
"And who gives her away?" Thoros added, thoroughly enjoying the moment.
"Jon Snow, Lord Eddard Stark's eldest surviving son and half-brother to Sansa Stark."
"Lady Sansa, will you take this man?" Thoros asked.
"I take this man," she turned towards Sandor and joined her hands into his. She initiated the kneeling into the soft snow as the two bowed their heads down in a silent prayer to the old gods. I take this man, for the rest of my days. May the old gods protect us in the wars to come and all the years after.
Once they stood, Jon walked over to Bran, picking up the white Kingsguard cloak that Sandor had left with her years ago during the night of the Battle of Blackwater Bay. However, it was now cleansed of blood and embroidered with the sigil of House Stark, a grey direwolf.
"Is that?" Sandor asked Sansa in a whisper. She nodded and a tear fell down her cheek.
"Yes," she answered. "I kept it. You will become a Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, but I will take your cloak, this cloak. The one you gave to me that night." Jon handed the cloak to Sandor, looking as if he might shed a tear as well, and nodded for him to wrap her under his protection. Sandor placed the cloak around her shoulders tenderly, followed by lifting her chin up with his hand and placing the most intimate of kisses on her lips.
"To the newly wedded Lord and Lady of Winterfell!" Thoros cheered, taking a deep swig from his wine skin. "Long may they rule!"