Hello All :) I had hoped to have this chapter completed by the end of June, but whatever I wrote I wasn't happy with so it took me a little longer than I would have wanted to have it ready to share with all of you. While my chapter updates aren't regular, I do want to stress that this story is not abandoned and the whole plot is outlined.
CW: Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues.
The Story So Far:
A group of men from Kennel Keep eagerly awaited their mail order brides. Sansa arrived, going by the name Ros Turnippe, and while Sandor momentarily thought that she was to be his bride, he soon realised that she was engaged to his ranch partner, Ray Brothers. The couples proceeded to go to the Temple of Light and marry—apart from Sandor as his bride Obara had rejected him. The group then went to the town's hotel for a celebration dinner. On his way back to the ranch, Sandor mused to Stranger that there was something off about Ray's new wife that he just could not put his finger on. The last chapter ended with the sentence, "Little did Sandor know that at that very moment back at Kennel Keep, his dear friend's puzzling, new wife stood clutching a blade with a white-knuckled grip, watching blood drip from it onto the floor."
Sansa watched the water droplets run in rivulets down from her fingertips, along the back of her hand as she held it aloft, down her arm to the crook of her elbow, before they finally dropped silently into the bath water below. The firelight glinted off of the droplets, transforming them into tiny flickering diamonds decorating her pale skin. Sansa's azure eyes tracked their movement as she relaxed in the copper bathtub, even as the water started to turn unpleasantly lukewarm.
Ray had surprised her at the end of the celebration dinner by saying that he had booked a room at the hotel for the night to save them from journeying back to the ranch in the dark like Mister Clegane had done. Ray had left her in the room after calling for a bath to be brought up, allowing her her privacy to bathe and ready herself for bed.
Sansa supposed it could be viewed as a thoughtful gesture, letting his wife rest in a luxurious hotel suite—or what passed for luxurious in Kennel Keep—after the long and arduous journey she had undertaken across the country to reach him instead of subjecting her to further jostling and travel in a cart or buggy for who knows how long in the pitch blackness before they reached the ranch. However, Sansa was not one to trust thoughtful gestures. Petyr had taught her that there was always an ulterior motive to be uncovered when one looked closely enough. When Sansa examined Ray's motives for his seemingly considerate actions, she deemed that this overnight interlude at the hotel afforded Ray the opportunity to exercise his husbandly rights upon his bride—the thought of which left a sour taste in her mouth and caused her stomach to roil horridly.
'You are a hypocrite, sweetling,' the voice of a dead man whispered in her ear.
Sansa swore she felt the brush of fingertips ghost across her bare shoulders and shivered. She sank lower into the bathtub. Sansa had been trying to keep Petyr's haunting spectre at bay all evening, but she had to admit that his words rang true. Had she not, mere hours earlier, tried to prevent innocent, terrified Joyeuse from marrying her lecherous, old groom? She and the little mouse were not so dissimilar; they had both married their husbands today for one sole purpose—survival. Joyeuse had become a mail order bride to not starve on the streets of Vale City where she would have been at the mercy of any man who came across her, an alone and vulnerable girl barely out of childhood homeless with no protection; and Sansa, well, she boarded the westward bound stagecoach because it had been her only hope of seeing another sunrise.
At least with her own marriage to Ray Sansa knew that there would be an end, that she would not have to suffer him as her lawfully wedded husband and welcome him into her bed for the rest of her days. For as long as was needed until the hunt for her died down and it was safe to move on, she would live as Ros Turnippe, now Brothers, before vanishing into the night once again. Poor, little Joyeuse, on the other hand, had no escape from the life she had bound herself to today with her matrimony vows. She would be shackled to her husband, her gaoler, until the Stranger came to part them.
Sansa glanced over at the bed and her lips curled in distaste at what her ensuing wedding night could bring. The words of someone dear to her came to her as her trepidation grew. 'We all have to do things in this life to survive, Sansa.'
Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath in before sliding further down the tub and sinking beneath the water.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.'
'I have survived everything until now and I will survive this too.'
In the grand scheme of things, Sansa knew losing her maidenhead in return for duping her new husband, gaining his protection, and using the remoteness of his homestead to hide from those who dogged her heels was a bargain skewed in her favour—even if her groom was unaware of his part in it. Nonetheless, she was still reluctant to go through with what was expected of her tonight. She had managed to preserve her virginity for so long, even while Petyr had desired it so ardently yet guarded it so fiercely while she was in his care, that Sansa was afraid to finally have it taken from her now.
'Better Mister Brothers than Petyr though,' she thought bitterly. Sansa felt a sort of twisted, almost sadistic pleasure in knowing that her allowing another man to claim her maidenhead would cause Petyr to turn in his grave.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.' The words were as true tonight as they were the day Ros had first spoken them.
Sansa broke the water's surface in time to hear knocking at the bedroom door. She instinctively drew her knees up to her chest, but the door did not open.
"It's me—er, Ray—I was just wonderin' if ya were done in there, Ros?"
"Just a moment, please," Sansa called, climbing out of the bathtub quickly. Her feet left puddles on the wooden floor as she grabbed the towel she had hung over the privacy screen earlier and disappeared behind it.
She did her best to dry her hair, pressing the towel to it even as her hands started to shake and make the task more difficult. Sansa could feel the panic inside her returning; the same overwhelming surge of anxiety swirling inside her stomach and threatening to well up that she had experienced earlier at the temple.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive. There are worse things in this life that I have endured.'
Sansa repeated the words to herself, hoping that they would fortify her courage and stave off her growing fright, allowing her to remain in control of her faculties. She had a role to play and she could not afford to raise Ray's suspicions that she was anyone other than Ros, the widowed mail order bride he had sent for, because doing so could very well put her life in jeopardy.
She yanked the nightdress off of the top of the screen and pulled it over her head. She fumbled with the ties, though truthfully they made no difference to the fit when she eventually fastened them as the dress was much more suited to a more buxom, shorter woman. On such a woman the nightdress might have been considered flirtatious, risqué even, but on Sansa it looked oversized and frumpy.
She heard the bedroom door creak as it opened and heavy footsteps followed as Ray shuffled into the room.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.'
Sansa's hands were shaking so badly by now that she gave up on braiding her hair and instead gripped the edge of the small chest of drawers in front of her in an attempt to steady herself.
'Breathe, just breathe.'
She gulped in great big lungfuls of air, feeling like she had to do so under the constricting weight of the mounting panic seizing her chest.
Breathing was becoming a struggle and Sansa felt tears of fear and frustration prick at her eyes, threatening to topple over and fall. She lowered her head to the cool wood, her hands sliding forward. Her left hand met the porcelain wash basin and Sansa wrapped her arm around it in an attempt to ground herself, squeezing it as waves of anxiety rolled through her, but her right hand met something quite different; her thumb and her forefinger brushed against the soft bristles of a badger brush, while her little finger met something sharp, sharp enough that it caused her to withdraw her hand at once.
She lifted her head, placing her chin on the dresser. She brought her little finger to her lips, sucking at the nick in her flesh. What had hurt her?
She looked, and there besides the badger brush was an open cut throat razor.
Sansa's eyes widened. The dresser held all the items needed for a man to shave and they should not have been a surprising sight really, but the razor, with the reflection of the quivering candle flame dancing across its blade, drew Sansa's undivided attention.
She swallowed hard around the sudden knot in her throat.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
The memory of warm blood trickling out from between her clenched fingers and oozing sluggishly down her hand accosted her violently.
'Breathe in. Breathe in. Breathe in, godsdamn it!'
She had used a blade before, the night before she had fled Vale City. Sansa had used it to draw a man's lifeblood from him, and oh, it had slid through his pallid flesh like soft butter. She had not expected that a knife could slide so easily into human meat, and the memory of the gentle give of parting flesh made her want to gag. She pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle the reflex, but still her eyes did not leave the razor.
"A- Ar-... Are ya alright behind there, Ros?" Ray called, but Sansa barely heard him, let alone paid him enough attention to make out the individual words.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.'
She stretched out her hand, reaching towards the razor. Her hand trembled, but her fingers felt oddly steady as they closed around its wooden handle.
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.'
"Ros?" Sansa heard Ray's voice this time, it came into sharp focus, and she knew what she had to do.
Ray opened the door, just cracking it open slightly, but not entering in case he heard his new wife's voice telling him she needed a little longer to ready herself. He did not want to intrude and make her feel uncomfortable, so when no such request came, he slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Ray's eyes were immediately drawn to the outline of Ros' womanly figure that was illuminated against the cloth privacy screen by the flickering candlelight behind it. He gulped and found that his palms felt awfully clammy. He rubbed them on his waistcoat, walked over to the bed and perched on the edge of it where he waited for Ros to emerge.
He felt oddly nervous now that they were finally alone together. Though he had not practiced abstinence in the years since his wife had passed on, he could admit that it had indeed been quite some time since he had last been intimate with a woman; but as he watched the enticing form of his new bride move behind the screen, he felt the familiar frisson of excitement for what was to come return.
His palms felt sweaty again and he rubbed them on his trousers. Ros surely did not want him touching her with claggy hands.
He glanced at the back lit shape of his bride and noticed she had gone still. She looked faintly crouched over, her back bent over slightly, but it was hard to tell.
"A- Ar-," Ray stopped and cleared his throat. "Are ya alright behind there, Ros?"
His question was met with silence. Ray frowned, wondering what she could be doing and why she was not answering him. She was only a few yards away, there was no way she had not heard him speaking to her.
"All alright?" He tried again after a few moments, but still she did not reply.
Ray stood and made his way over to the privacy screen. He was not tall enough to see over it and too much of a gentleman to peek around it. He knew Ros deserved her privacy to see to whatever womanly ablutions were necessary before she joined him in bed, even if he found the notion rather foolish considering they would be seeing all of each other very shortly.
"Ros?" he asked again, now worried.
Still no answer came, not until Ray was about to step around the screen.
"Yes." The word was spokenly hurriedly, almost like she had forced it out. Was that a hiss he heard too or was it merely the wind blowing outside? Then a moment later, in a more collected tone, she added, "Yes, sorry, I am quite alright."
Ray heard the rustle of fabric and the soft whistle of air as the candle was blown out before its quavering light was extinguished. Ros stepped out from behind the privacy screen, appearing before him dressed in a white nightgown that looked too big on her slim frame. Her damp hair was unbound, and the darkness of the room, brightened only by the dying fire that needed to be banked for the night and the glimmer of a single lit oil lamp beside the bed, cast a dark amber glow on her, making her hair appear far darker than it was. His eyes flicked down to her bosom, hidden away under the too large garment she wore, before going back to her face.
"Ya," Ray started, losing his train of thought momentarily as he took in the comely woman before him, still disbelieving that he could now call such a handsome woman his wife. "Ya look lovely."
Ros nodded once. Ray thought the movement looked a little stiff. He noticed that she had her hands clasped in front of her and while the room's lighting was dim he could tell the grip she had on herself was awfully tight. She was nervous, but that was hardly surprising, he was too. They had only met each other that afternoon and yet tonight was their wedding night. Ray was grateful that Ros was a widow, and had therefore known the marriage bed before tonight, for he felt he would have been ill equipped to deal with a blushing, timorous maiden. While he had certainly had encounters with paramours where he had very quickly found himself welcomed into their bed—back in the day, of course— he very much doubted his new wife had. Ros may have been a bit forward in some of her letters, but he would never make such rude assumptions about her. Her flirtatious banter had made him smile, had made him laugh, and it was one of the reasons he had finally decided on proposing marriage to her.
"I'll bank the fire for the night," Ray told her, his anticipation and arousal growing. He swallowed, then cleared his throat again. "Why dontcha make yaself comfy on the bed?"
Ray saw to the fire, shifting the glowing logs with the poker before turning back to the bed. Ros had not moved. Ray raised an eyebrow at her and proceeded to walk over and sit on the bed.
No doubt they were both a little on edge, but it was not like either of them were daisy fresh virgins about to fumble awkwardly through their first night together. He had been married to his Maria for almost seven years, and he had known women before and after her, and Ros had been married to her late husband for four years.
Ray smiled kindly at Ros and extended his hand out to her in an unspoken invitation to join him. She seemed to hesitate for an instant before padding softly to the bed and slipping her small, soft hand into his. She took a seat next to him.
Ray's smile grew and he let out a small, nervous chuckle. "Did ya enjoy supper? I know the hotel probably ain't as fancy as the one you were workin' at in Vale City, but it's got some of the best grub ta be found this side of the Trident."
"I enjoyed supper, thank-you."
Silence ensued, so Ray continued talking, hoping to ease the building tension. "And ya bath? I hope the water was warm enough for ya. Musta been nice to scrub yaself clean after them long days and nights on the stagecoach. Ain't no small hop, skip, or jump 'tween here and the City, hey?"
Ros nodded. She lowered her head to look at where their hands were joined. "The bath was lovely, thank-you."
Ray waited for her to say more, but she did not.
He shifted, subtly trying to ease some of the growing tightness of his trousers. Perhaps it was up to him to move things along? Ray moved closer to his bride and reached out a hand to cup her cheek in order to turn her face towards him so that he could kiss her.
She flinched. Ray withdrew his hand. "Ar- Are ya alright, Ros?" he asked, concerned and surprised by her reaction.
Ros bit her lip and nodded her head quickly. Ray was unconvinced.
"Forgive me," she said softly. She took her hand back from his and ran her flat hands down her thighs on top of her nightdress, smoothing out the creases. Perhaps her hands were sweaty too? "I did not mean to- to-" she waved her hand in front of her cheek, but could not find the words needed to finish her sentence.
"S'alright, Ros. Nerves, is it?"
Ros bit her lip. "Shall we…" she trailed off, but waved her hand again.
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Continue?" he finished for her.
She nodded.
"Are ya sure?"
Another quick nod. She turned her head to face him, drawing her leg up onto the bed to angle her body towards him.
Ray leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back, and gently pressed his lips to hers.
Sansa dug her nails into her palm. She wanted the pain that came with the action—she needed it—because it gave her something to focus on as she forced herself to move her lips in time with Ray's. If she focused on the throbbing of her hand, then perhaps she would not jerk away when he reached for her again.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
She felt his fingers glide up her arm, the feel of his hands rough and calloused, but the touch tentative and gentle. She dug her nails in deeper and willed herself not to tense her muscles in fear or aversion.
The hand drifted up to her neck and she felt the bed move as he shifted closer.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
Ray's kisses were different from Petyr's, though still unwanted by her. Petyr's lips had been thinner, colder. He would have tutted in disapproval if she had flinched away from his unwelcomed touch. His tongue would have delved into her mouth by now too. Ray's had not and she was grateful for that. It made the kisses more bearable even as his thumb stroked tenderly back and forth across her jaw.
His over hand came to rest on her knee, the one she had bent on the bed.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
The kisses continued, he moved from her mouth to her neck and his hands moved to her waist. Sansa kept her eyes closed, trying to ignore how her heart felt like it was pounding so violently against her rib cage that it might crack it apart and escape. At some point she felt Ray nudging her backwards, so she moved back on the bed and lay down. She kept her eyes closed, but felt the bed dip once more as he propped himself on his elbow to lie beside her. His lips found hers again, while his hand moved to cup her breast.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
'This is a small price to pay, remember that.'
'Breathe in. Breathe out. Ros would not be afraid.'
No, Ros would tell her exactly what she had told her years ago: 'We all have to do things in this life to survive, Sansa.'
"I couldn't believe ya were my bride when I saw ya earlier," Ray murmured against her skin. His hot breath felt sticky and unpleasant.
Even though she had watched enough whores over the years to know that she should not just lie there, that if she were Ros she should be participating more in this intimate act, Sansa could not bring her limbs to cooperate. Her mind knew what she should be doing—little moans, heavy sighs, coy looks from behind hooded eyes, playful smiles and giggles, explorative touches that slowly grew bolder—but her body refused to comply beyond allowing her to raise a hand to rest on Ray's side, while the other remained fisted tightly in her nightdress.
More uncomfortably moist words were pressed into her pale skin. "I gotta say, I'm mighty proud ta have such a pretty wife on my arm."
The hand on her breast moved to her waist, then down her leg to her knee. She felt his fingers start to gather the fabric of her nightgown.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
Ray had a gentle touch, and while that should have eased her mind somewhat, Sansa knew that seemingly tender actions could in fact bely unimaginable cruelty.
"This alright, Ros?"
'Have some of Ros' bravery, Sansa! She had the North in her veins and you do too.'
Sansa answered with a non-committal noise, something between a grunt and a whine, which Ray clearly took for her consent as the next thing she knew he was kneeling over her, her legs between his as he lifted her nightdress up to her waist.
Her eyes shot open as she felt him touch the pale expanse of skin above her bloomers.
He paused, a question in his eyes as his hands rested just above the small buttons that fastened her drawers.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
'It will all be over soon. Be brave. Be Ros.'
Sansa lifted her own hands and undid the small buttons. When she was done, she dropped them back to her sides.
She felt Ray's hand slip inside her underthings and bit down hard on her lip. She felt tears gathering at the corner of her eyes yet again, but she refused to let them fall.
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
'We all have to do things in this life to survive.'
'Breathe in. Breathe out.'
The hand moved lower, the sensation of fingers brushing against the bare skin of her inner thigh was almost ticklish and she tried not to jerk away.
'Just a little further. Breathe in. Breathe out. Do not lose your nerve now.'
"You just let me kno—oh."
Sansa propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Ray withdrew his hand from her bloomers. The tips of his fingers were covered in blood.
Sansa glanced at his face, praying to whatever gods were still listening to her that she would only see disgust there and not anger, or worse, that her husband's eyes would still be filled with lust.
"I'm so sorry, it must have just started." Her voice shook a little, but hopefully he would mistake that for embarrassment or shame rather than fear.
Ray cleared his throat. "Oh, right, yes…" He moved off of her. "Um, ya should…"
Sansa quickly got up from the bed and slipped once more behind the privacy screen.
She poured some of the water in the jug on the dresser into the wash basin. Then, quietly as she could, she opened the top drawer and reached inside. Sansa withdrew a rolled up towel that had been on the dresser earlier. She had used the towel to wipe the cut throat razor clean after using it to cut herself and had hidden the razor inside the towel because she had not wanted to wash it in case Ray happened to see the bloodied water. Hopefully the shock of touching what her groom thought was her moonblood would be enough to spare her from consummating her sham marriage tonight. With any luck she would have bought herself at least a week before he sought to exercise his husbandly rights again.
The cut she had made was relatively shallow, but gods did it sting. She had done a good job of smearing the blood between her thighs and across her woman's place without having it seep through her underthings. She dipped the edge of the already bloodied towel into the water and wiped herself clean.
She heard the splashing of water and surmised that Ray was cleaning his hand in the bathwater.
"Do you need anything?" he called to her.
"No—thank-you."
Sansa washed the razor, careful not to unintentionally cut herself on its sharp blade. The towel was thin and the blade easily sliced it into small strips. She tied a couple together and wrapped the make-shift bandage around the top of her thigh. Hopefully that would be sufficient enough to take care of the bleeding.
With nothing left to do, Sansa took a deep, steady breath in an attempt to dispel the trembling in her limbs she could not control and stepped out once again from behind the cloth screen.
Ray had climbed into bed and he was sat up against the headboard with the covers over his legs and lap. He gave her a small smile, pulled back the corner of the covers and patted the empty space next to him.
Sansa promptly burst into tears. He wanted to continue! Her subterfuge had failed! The torrent of emotions she had been suppressing since she had fled Vale City flooded forth from her and she found that she had no defence against the onslaught, but instead was swept away by sobs that were ripped from her throat with such force that they hurt.
She pressed the heels of her hands into her tightly shut eyes, but the action did little to stop the flow of tears cascading down her blotchy cheeks. She wanted to be strong like Ros, she wanted to have that cold Northern steel in her veins, but she just could not do it.
Sansa felt her knees wobble and she swayed slightly before they buckled. Strong arms closed around her before she could sink to the fall and she absently realised that they were Ray's. With her evaporating strength she tried to twist away, but he held her firmly against his chest and she soon gave up. She wept openly, unable to halt her visceral reaction to her plan failing. She was so utterly tired, so exhausted from running, that she no longer knew if she had the strength or grit to go through with what was expected of her now.
"There, there," Ray whispered, his hand rubbing her back soothingly. "Let it all out, Ros. It's alright, I got ya."
Eventually Sansa's bawling quieted to whimpery snivels and the occasional hitched breath. Ray had eased them down to the ground and she was slumped against him as he comforted her, his manner reminiscent of the way one might calm an upset child.
Sansa hiccuped and wiped her snotty nose with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry."
Ray stroked her hair in a way she found curiously settling. "There's nothin' ta apologise for, Ros. Ain't no shame in havin' ya monthlies, so I don't wantcha feelin' none, hear?" He continued to comfort his new bride until he left the muscles in his legs starting to grow stiff. "Come on now, let's get ya ta bed."
In a move that surprised Sansa, Ray slipped one arm underneath her knees while the other slid around her back and he stood up with her. He was deceptively strong, his brawn well hidden underneath his clothing. He carried her over to her side of the bed and gently placed her down. He pulled the covers up over her and tucked her in.
"There now, how's about ya get some rest? Dontcha worry none 'bout earlier, alright?"
Sansa nodded numbly and watched him as he walked around the foot of the bed and sat down on his side. He extinguished the oil burner, leaving only the glowing amber light from the fireplace illuminating the bedroom. He quickly removed his trousers and lay down in the bed beside her. She stiffened as he reached for her, but it was only to take hold of her hand.
"I know tonight ain't ending the way either of us hoped," Ray spoke softly into the surrounding dimness, "but maybe in a way this is better; we can get ta know each other a bit first before… well, just before."
Sansa held her breath, not yet willing to believe what was happening. Had she truly saved herself from losing her maidenhead tonight? Did he think her outburst had been caused by shame? Was the kindness displayed by her new husband genuine? She would have liked to have believed it was, but she was far too cautious and jaded to do so.
"Well, goodnight Ros. Or should I say, goodnight Missus Brothers."
Sansa could hear the smile in his words and felt a nasty pang of guilt. She swallowed it down and whispered back, "Goodnight Ray. Thank-you for being understanding."
Ray squeezed her hand.
Sansa lay listening to his breathing as it evened out as slumber claimed him and then to the sounds of the dying fire well into the darkest hours of the night before, in turn, she too succumbed to sleep's welcomed embrace.
Sleep tight my babies, I have such big things planned for you two...
Thank-you so much for reading! Please leave a comment, I reply to every single one and they make my day 3