Chapter 10: As Brave as a Wolf

Sansa steadied herself against the wall. Wolves are supposed to be brave. The wall felt warm and alive to her touch as she walked along the corridor. She had always felt braver and stronger within the walls of Winterfell. She was not going to be a pawn anymore. Here, she had the chance to make a decision for herself.

The hallway seemed to stretch out before her endlessly. Each step that she took, the hallway seemed to extend itself. Her nerves threatened to get the best of her. The castle was full of activity now. Was it so wrong for her to decide who to give herself to? At one time she stupidly thought she might marry for love, or at least find love in her marriage. Life had taught her differently. As she knocked on the door to Lord Tyrion's room, she took a deep breath. The sound of his voice from the other side steadied her.

"Yes," she thought, "I can be brave." Everything inside her wanted to moderate these feelings, and push them deep inside herself. But she found her mind, and her body occupied with a nervous energy that she could not quiet.

As she walked into the room, she noticed the darkness. The tapestries had been pulled closed. Lord Tyrion was laying on the featherbed, propped up on his elbow. He seemed startled to see her. She could not blame him. She imagined that Septa Mordane would have been mortified to know that she had presented herself, an unmarried lady, to a man, alone in his rooms like some common whore. She stood in the center of his room, her head at an angle, breathing deeply and trying to portray a sense of confidence. She moved to get closer to him. As she did this he moved to get up, to greet her properly.

She wanted to clear her conscience. She also wanted to give some sort of signal that she was amenable to him. Throughout their conversation she found herself paying more attention to his mouth, than his words.

Once his lips began to touch her skin, she lost sight of decency. She felt as if she couldn't get enough of his hot mouth on her skin. He pulled away from her to study her face and as he said her name, his voice sounded different to her. Was she doing the right thing? She was not sure. Sansa slid further onto the bed. Her fingers felt heavy and clumsy as she began to fiddle with the bodice of her dress. As the dress fell open, the cold chill of the air felt like a shock. She saw herself reflected in Tyrion's eyes as he studied her. She felt a heat radiating through her body as he moved to join her on the featherbed. Her breathing quickened as she felt the bed sink beneath his weight, and he moved closer to her. His eyes seemed to be memorizing her face, caressing her lips, and then they came to rest on her breasts, now exposed, and chilled by the castle air. Her taut pink nipples stood erect from the chill. She felt as if she were holding her breath, waiting for his touch, and was not sure how much time passed between his moving closer to her, and the warmth of his hands caressing and holding her breasts as if they were some sort of ripe exotic fruit. His hands and fingers were strong and hard, and she wanted to stretch her legs open and wrap them around him. She did not. She felt soft and pliant beneath his fingertips and she began to adjust her body on the featherbed so that he could greedily kiss every inch of her exposed flesh. A throbbing aching feeling radiated from her hips. She wanted to pull him as close to her as possible, she ached to be one person.

He kissed her mouth, and he tasted like tea, and lemoncakes, and salt, and hunger, and she felt as if she'd drank too much wine. She ran her fingers through his golden curls, and embraced him.

He pulled away from her, studying her again.

"Sansa," he was laying close to her now, his want of her obvious as he pressed his body against hers. He took a deep breath, "You are very lovely." He traced his hand down her stomach. "There is still time to turn back now, sweetling."

Sansa laughed. "I have come to you willingly. Are you having second thoughts my lord?" He reached out to hold one of her hands.

"For your honor, I shall ask your brother for permission to renew the pursuit of your affections."

"Renew?" Sansa laughed " She covered herself with some of the furs that were strewn about the bed. "Had you ever pursued them?"

"I will speak with your brother. The harder part may be-speaking with our Queen."

"You are a proud lion. This should be no trouble." Sansa's smile was playful. She began to put on her bodice. "Use some of your pride to assist me," she smirked. "Your reputation as a filthy little pervert disappoints me my lord."

"Keep that between us," he smiled, "I do have a reputation to uphold."