Behind These Walls
written by Celtic Pixie

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"Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours."
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

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There had been a time, quite long ago it seemed, when Sansa put forth more attention into emulating her mother's example of a properly lady from the southern courts, becoming committed to the customary ideals of womanly qualities. This was a sharp contrast to the far less idealistic and tomboyish nature of her sister, Arya, often causing friction between the siblings, culminating in something of a sibling rivalry. Unlike her sister, Sansa was much more passive, always waiting for things to happen rather than taking vigorous measures. Where Arya preferred the more tomboyish lifestyle, Sansa was about fair maidens, heroic knights, and mythical figures..

..mythical figures like Jonquil – a heroine of legend known for falling in love with a knight named Florian. As the story goes, Florian first spied Jonquil as she bathed with her sisters in a pool located in the town of Maidenpool. There were songs written for them: Six Maids in a Pool could be one, which Sansa knew by heart; she offered to sing it for Sandor Clegane once, but he declined. Jon Snow and Robb Stark would often pretend to be Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and Florian the Fool, respectively as children, and young Sansa would be the princess to rescue.

She was also very much into other historical figures…such as Duncan Targaryen, also known as the Prince of Dragonflies, was another fascination of Sansa's. He was the eldest son and heir of King Aegon V Targaryen and named for Ser Duncan the Tall. He once fell in love with a woman simply known as Jenny of Oldstones and it was said that he loved her so much, her surrendered his crown and married her against his father's wishes. This had created friction since he had been betrothed to Lyonel Baratheon's daughter. He had been angered by the event, briefly renouncing his allegiance to the iron Throne. The rebellion was brief. In the end, he had been defeated in battle by Ser Duncan the Tall.

There were many songs written about Jenny, most famously Jenny's song, which was always a request of the ghost of High Heart as payment in exchange for telling the brotherhood without banners of her prophetic dream. It is said that Jenny had been a queer and lovely girl who always wore flowers in her hair, though she was considered half-mad peasant with some calling her a witch. According to the song, she would dance with ghosts in the halls of kings.

Sansa didn't sing. Not anymore. That childlike innocence could be buried, somewhere deep deep down, or simply forgotten. There had been naught tales of fair maidens or heroic knights or courtly princes to bring her solace and she had since dismissed the idea of there every being one.

But then there was Podrick; sweet, sweet Podrick, who would never ever hurt anyone. A man who seemed to bear no one ill-will or malice and who was only ever kind and gentle to those around him. Dear sweet Podrick…he deserved someone who would never take advantage of his good nature. In many ways, he was far too innocent for this world. Sansa envied him.

Kissing him had sent her heart ablaze. A sudden, unexpected feeling. Leaving her warm and feverish. Her lips were shaking, sending tremors through her entire nervous system. A tingle cascaded down her spine, evoking a sensation within her she had no idea she was capable of feeling. Sansa was feeling quite dizzy and the only thing she could do to keep herself steady was cling onto him. He had drawn her toward him, inclining his head and breathing her in. Sansa felt the hollow urgency of vulnerability, the sinking feeling that left her stripped bear of all and every barrier ever constructed to protect her heart.

Podrick intensified the kiss, pushing against her, bending her head back, then swiftly graduated to throwing his arms around her shoulders. But a kiss wasn't just about the physical aspect; it was about the relationship and what was going through their minds at the time. It was about the pure emotion exploding inside. To Podrick, and to Sansa, it was an unrestricted invitation to look into the others' souls. Such a softness, such a sweetness. It was as though the only two souls in the world were him and her and nothing else mattered.

When Podrick pulled gradually from her, she was groaning, desperate to have his lips on her again. His mouth stretched to a smile. He leaned forwards, pressing their noses together. He inhaled her scent; she smelt like the beach, of a fragrant lavender plucked from the garden. "You should not have stopped …" She pleaded, breathless, hungerly needing to be kissed like that again.

His eyelids closed; his forehead pressed to hers; "We—I…I should be getting back… " His mouth was saying one thing, but his brain was screaming another. His fingers delicately danced over the rim of her dress, casually brushed over any exposed flesh, raising goosebumps that prickled her skin.

But she had other ideas. "Stay. Stay here…" Stay with me. I need you…

For the first time in a very, very long while, Sansa knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. Just a taste had left her hungry for more. She had never felt so alive, so vigorously full of life…

I—I want to… Gods, I would want for nothing else…

"…Podrick," she inhaled, breathing deep; it shuddered beneath her breasts. In her next breath, words had tumbled from her mouth before she had control over them; "I want you… " Her heart was beating hard, and harder, and she knew there was no logic where her emotions were concerned—not anymore. "…please… make love to me…"

He blinked rapidly, unsure what he heard; "Sansa, my lady…"

Sansa moved her hands behind her, arched her fingers until they brushed over where his lay. They pressed against his, ever so slightly flexing across them. She was teasing him. He knew it. She had him tugging at the laces at her gown—first the surcote, and then the kirtle underneath, until there was nothing left by the chemise beneath. Podrick took a breath, allowing his eyes to soak in the woman standing before him. She found his eyes. Her chest moved rapidly—in and out—and her heart was thrashing wildly. Slowly, as Sansa was finding her breathing, she reached behind her to remove the pins from her hair.

After shaking out her hair, Sansa reached for the buckles holding Podrick's armor in place. Time in which it took to remove these buckles, and the straps, and all else involved had no meaning. She didn't think about it. What she only thought about was getting him out of them. Once he was, once they both stood in front of the other wearing little more than shifts meant to wore beneath their clothing, Sansa paused. She was very much aware that it was Podrick she stood in front of and the other thing separate their bodies were thin, barely concealing fabrics of clothes. But she took him in. All of him.

He closed a gap between them until scarcely a light could be seen through the space between their bodies. Reaching, Podrick removed the last of the laces holding up her chemise. It pooled at her feet. This time when he was kissing her again, she completely and wholly gave into his hunger—his desire… for she felt it too. This time, they attacked each other with a furiousity neither had ever been introduced to before. With Joffrey, it was only ever torture and torment. And Tyrion would not lay with her, not until she wanted him in her bed. He never touched her. He was always so kind, so gentle. When Ramsey had taken her, it wasn't loving or gentle or passionate; he didn't appreciate her or worship her. He never touched her… not in the way Podrick was.

Sansa pushed her fingers through his hair, kissing him with such passion and intensity. He worked his hands beneath her breast coverings until he had fidgeted with them enough for them to drop from her chest, leaving her completely exposed. Podrick tore his mouth away from her lips and found the mounds of her breasts. Sansa had started groaning, getting herself accustomed to having him kissing her there. No one had ever paid such attention to her bosom before. Throwing her head back, her lips parted. Oh… my… Gods! She nearly came undone when his tongue lapped over her nipples.

Sansa gripped the back of his neck; "Gods! Podrick…. " She couldn't speak. The way his mouth eagerly made love to her breasts in turn was doing some ungodly things to her core. She was hissing swears of surprise. Her underpants soaked with her arousal.

She threw her arms and legs around him as he lifted her up and slowly cared her to the bed, his mouth not once leaving her breasts. He laid her down carefully, positioned himself atop her, then finally broke from making love to her nipples so he could once again capture her lips in a firey, fervent kiss. He somehow managed to work his hands between their bodies. His right hand traversed the length of her torso, skipping delicately over her belly. Further, further, and further down his hand went… until, at last, he was pushed it beneath the thin fold that protected her womanhood.

Carefully, meticulously, he slowly pushed a finger inside of her, and another rubbed at the bud, like a rose, being ever so gently caressed. Sansa was moaning all manner of things. His finger twitched, beginning its slow and melodical movements inside her. His lips had skipped over her face, kissing each and every delicate highlight in turn. She attempted to follow, to capture his mouth so she might kiss it again, but his lips were very elusive to her desires. Podrick continued to fondle her, pushing his finger further, and then retracting… slowly… and then deeper again… until a second had joined; Sansa was seeing stars. She was moving restlessly beneath him. Darkness was closing in. A tingling entrapped her limbs. When she came, he was sure to keep pace as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her.

At long last, Podrick retracted his fingers and dipped his head low. His lips skipped past her neck, over the mounds of her breasts, down the length of her torso… and stopped just before hitting her core. He took a moment, breathing in the sent of her arousal, and then pushed past the cumbersome fabric. His tongue had found her center. He drew circles there, the lightest of touches, yet evoking the greatest of pleasures. Sansa was sure she would come undone again at that very moment. The pressure inside her was something else. Exquisite. Instead of his tongue plunging between her folds, Podrick tugged the fabric away, carelessly tossing it aside. Then he raised up, crawling closer to where he started—hovering over her.

Sansa reached past his hips where she tugged at the lacing of his garment. Her hands work themselves between the fabric, pushing it away from his hips. She scooched down some so she might be able to continue working the fabric down his legs. Her body quickly recoiled. Podrick captured her eyes, her endlessly enrapturing blue eyes he could find himself getting lost in for days on end.

Her chest exploded with such focused heat just then, as they stared so attentively at each other. Their stare was longing, full of desire, panting with burning, unresolved passion. She cupped a hand beneath his jaw; "I am not afraid… " she whispered, breathless, self-assured. Sansa seemed to know what she had been asking, lest this be a foolish mistake, one she'd regret come the morrow. This was a decision she made, to be with him, fully and completely.

Podrick pressed himself against her, so she could feel him, but not yet all of him. With a singular thrust, he was inside her. He pushed, slowly, gently, at first —his mouth absorbed her cries and for a moment, he was worried he had hurt her. Podrick gave her time, allowing her to get adjusted and comfortable until he was almost completely buried within her.

The peak of her core tingled, ignited with raw heat and absolute intensity; "Oh, gods…" Her entire body was shaking.

He pressed a kiss to her lips before his first thrust. His movements had been gradual at first, allowing Sansa to get familiar with him. She arched her back, pushing her breasts against his chest. Her hands fumbled. They began exploring every inch of him; his jaw, his shoulder blades, pressed against his back. Her nails dragged across his skin, arousing a trembling moan that started somewhere deep within his core and bubbled quickly to his surface.

She pressed her palms tight to his skin, whimpering lowly when his mouth no longer gave praise to hers. Instead, Podrick was kissing away from her mouth- curling his motions over her cheek bones, then down her jawline, and across her neck, suckling at the area where the artery that gushed her life force ran the full length of her neck and pulsated rapidly beneath the weight of his lips.

Hands roamed each other's bodies; Sansa eventually discovered the small of his back…pressing them against his warm flesh. His lips drifted from her mouth, leaving her with emptiness, but found her neck and began kissing her there. His tongue fell from his mouth, licking and lapping at each part of it. Sansa's head fell back. Her hands pulled from his back until they were pushing through his hair again, entwining themselves. His kisses found the underside of her jaw, then traversed the area of her mouth, pressing the corners but never her lips, and then eventually to her eyelids and forehead.

Sansa reached for him. Grasped his head. She drew him up… away… until they could look into each other's eyes, and she could once again get lost in them. Something within him had been unearthed. Something primal. He could hardly breathe. He was only thinking of her, this moment, being so wholly wrapped up inside of her. He rasped her name, almost in a breathless whisper. His breath was warm and sweet on her skin. When she reached for him again, Podrick stretched her arms above her whilst tracing kisses on the underside of each one. He rocked forwards, thrusting his whole self into her body, his cock twitching, pulsing; the darkness was back. She timed her second climax perfectly, with him still nestled inside her.

He hadn't withdrawn. His movements still. Still very much firm inside her, Sansa was begging him for more. She squeeze him from within. She was still in the midst of her ecstasy, wave after wave of pure pleasure. Eventually, he began thrusting into her, more smoothly and matched with equal power. Podrick felt it—the burning, rippling sensation that told him he was close. He began to withdraw from her, leaving her moaning, aching, crying for him not to. No! She needed him inside. She needed to feel him. All of him. Sansa's hands found his backside, they pinched him, drawing him back.

She had pressed tight to him. When his release came, he was still cradled between her thighs. They had kissed quite often during this time, distracting him from twitching. Sansa came to hold his head down by hers until he had finally relaxed, completely spent. He was breathing hard, trying to get himself down from such a high. Podrick would eventually roll away from her, withdrawing himself from between her thighs. He laid on his back, his chest moving rapidly, in and out, almost completely incapable of calming himself.

Sansa moved onto her side, her hands reaching to explore him. Gods, woman… but she hadn't climbed him. Instead, her fingers were drawing circles over his chest until her palm rested flat. Podrick turned his head, looked at her, and smiled. "This… it is all for you… " His larger hand encircled hers, holding it there over his heart. He wanted her to feel it thumping; the unyielding, raw power. "Do you know what it says?" Sansa had shaken her head. "It says how much I love you. I have always loved you, Sansa, ever since we were young, but I was always too unsure, too scared." Podrick didn't think it was ever possible to feel this blissful. Tears were in his eyes, tears that eventually spilled down the sides of his face.

She removed her hand from his chest to brush his tears; "I was naïve once to believe I could be the princess to a ruthless prince, and foolish enough to think Ramsey could show me love." He grasped her hand, kissing him. "But you have shown me true love. I was so blinded before. But it was you, should have been you, all this time. My father was right: he would find me someone brave and gentle and strong. I… I don't know why it took me so long to admit that…"

"We were both scared, I think," he answered, "and you were the daughter of a noble lord; I was just a squire. Even if I wanted to, I could never have hoped to earn your favor. Me, the son of a man I've never met, who squired first richer cousins, until one day he fell in the Greyjoy Rebellion, and a chandelier's daughter, who abandoned her only child when he was four because some nobody got a child on her— it doesn't spell epic romance for someone so deserving of much more than I could ever give you."

Sighing heavily, Sansa shifted to her right side. "Every single thing in my life that's happened has been some decision of someone else. Never me. I was foolish to think I could have been happy before." Her hand rested on his shoulder. "I decided to fight for the North's independence because that is my home and I'll be damned if I will feel the weight of someone else making decisions for me." She cuddled up closer, nuzzling her naked body against his. "No one else is making another decision for me. Not today. Not any day. It shouldn't have taken so long to realize what I needed this whole time…"

"Sansa…" His body shifted, turning to face her; her eyes sparkled, swimming with unadulterated love; "…there is a life waiting for you in Winterfell. You are their queen. What could a Knight do for you?"

"Everything." Tears prickled her eyes; suddenly Podrick's heart had dropped to his stomach. "We have only ever before served others. We should be selfish for once. We need to be.."

In two days hence, this whirlwind romance would have to draw to a close. They would have to return to their own lives, no matter how much of a hole it would leave behind.

Let me be selfish.