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In King's Landing…
Back within the Small Council chambers, Daveth invited his wife Sansa and mother-in-law Catelyn Stark to take part in today's sessions. Earlier, both the King and Queen had a back-and-forth spat that took place not long after the Young Stag woke up from the realm of the dead; to say that Sansa quite upset at Daveth throwing himself back into the fray so soon would be an understatement.
"So you believe this bastard son of Roose Bolton is up to something?" asked Trystane Martell, the new Master of Laws.
"Don't you think it would be best to recommend a committee to ascertain whether the charges might be true or false, Your Grace?" advised Grand Maester Pycelle.
Daveth was having none of it. "The more time we waste here, the more trouble will start brewing. Unnecessary trouble, I might add. Hasn't the assassination attempt on my life in Dorne provided enough of a lead to follow? Is it not worth investigating?"
"What other options do we have if this council doesn't follow up on it?" inquired Catelyn. "If we act too rashly, we risk stirring a hornet's nest. If we act too late, whoever this Ramsay Snow fellow is up to, then the North faces the risk of internal insurrection."
"Let's not forget that the capital is also facing problems of its own, Lady Stark," Randyll Tarly, Master of Ships, reminded his colleagues. "These fanatics calling themselves Sparrows have already started making their move. If we divert resources to aid the North, then we risk leaving our rear flank exposed and vulnerable to attack."
"Then that means while someone handles the problems with the North, the other will have to tangle with the Sparrows," theorized Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King.
Sansa furrowed her eyebrows looking downwards with her thumb and index finger resting on her chin. "All while finding who we're looking for in the east, I agree," she said. "I'll go investigate the northern anomaly, whilst the rest of the council checks eastward."
In a near simultaneous fashion, almost everyone in attendance looked at the Queen of Winter with such astonishment at the unexpected announcement; normally no one would have cared if someone else was dispatched to the North as a royal envoy, but the way Sansa Stark demonstrated such bold yet determined affirmative action showed how the Wolf Queen developed nerves of iron—showing more signs of courage and bravery. But even so, Sansa remained a benevolent, popular Queen. And there were some who knew she wanted to help her immediate family members, but there remained older, conservative elements standing firm in their opinion to keep Sansa in the capital.
"Sansa!" her mother exclaimed.
"A bold statement, Your Grace, but I'm afraid that we must disagree," Mace Tyrell, Master of Coin, interjected. "What if something were to happen to you up there? Who knows what kind of horrors await up there—"
"Your concerns are appreciative, my lords, but I'm afraid I must disagree," she cut him off, "This isn't just a matter of political intrigue or subterfuge, it's a personal one. I was born in the North and it will always be a part of me no matter where I am. If my sister is indeed in the North, if she is in danger from this Ramsay Snow, then honor demands I do everything in my power to protect my family from any who would harm them – regardless of my own wants."
'Try and protest all you like, but you'll get nowhere trying to convince a Stark to sit on the sidelines while they're loved ones are under threat,' Tyrion looked amused.
"Your Grace!" Pycelle protested again.
Sansa looked to Daveth for support. "My King, throughout our marriage I've done whatever you asked of me and have asked for nothing much in return. But I beseech you, as your wife, for the love and affection you have for me, please do me this kindness—even if it's just a small one—and permit me to take charge of searching the north for my sister."
Trystane looked back and forth as the royal councilors bickered with each other; the Martell heir apparently had much to learn as Master of Laws. But as he glanced to look at Daveth, he took notice of how he listened to each of his advisors and his wife before losing himself deep in thought.
The Young Stag placed his chin in his fist, contemplating the ups and downs of each suggestion—the difference of emotional and logical reasoning. He sighed loudly. 'There is no justice in this world, not unless we make it. Seven hells, I sure hope you know what you're doing…' he cursed. "If you are certain…"
"I am."
"Then I will allow it."
"Your Grace?!" the Small Council looked bewildered.
Sansa smiled. "Thank you, love."
"On one condition."
"What's that?"
Daveth looked at Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne, Ser Lucius Blackmyre and Ser Olyvar Frey. "That you permit a personal contingent to accompany you. A small troupe might be able to avoid attracting unwanted attention. They'll keep you safe, but should you require more aid… then we will do whatever we can."
'It's not much,' she suspected, 'but it's a small concession. He's worried about me, I'm sure.' Sansa nodded. "Very well, I accept your offer."
Before more shouting matches could occur, the Small Council chamber's doors were opened—drawing the ire and attention of most in attendance. The royal steward was the first to enter.
"Pardon the interruption, my lords. Your Graces," he apologized, "but His Holiness the High Septon has been insistent on being granted an audience."
Both Daveth and Sansa raised a curious eyebrow. "Send him in," the King instructed.
With that, the High Septon—the same who officiated both the weddings of Daveth and Sansa as well as Tommen and Margaery—walked in the Small Council chambers. Both the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms were rather surprised at the sight of this man once he stepped in better light; his face appeared to be bloodied and bruised with a gash on his lip. He limped slightly, but had the dignity to compose himself.
"Your Graces, Grand Maester," the High Septon greeted each in attendance, "lords of the Small Council, uh…" he looked at Catelyn.
"Lady Catelyn Stark, formerly of House Tully," Tyrion introduced her, "and the Queen's mother."
"By the Gods," Sansa said looking appalled, "Your Holiness, what happened to you?"
The head of the Faith of the Seven nodded in acknowledgment, clearing his throat. "As the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, I give voice to the will of the Gods and am their foremost servant in this world," he spat. "An insult to me is an insult to the Gods. An assault on my person is an assault on our very religion."
"You were assaulted?"
The High Septon nodded. "I was, Your Grace, yes, by those fanatics who call themselves 'Sparrows.' They humiliated me, they beat me, they left me naked and bleeding on the cobblestones. I am lucky to be alive!"
Daveth furrowed his brows. 'So… they've made their move already,' he thought.
"My little birds tell me this unfortunate mishap occurred in Littlefinger's brothel," Varys mentioned. "By recent reports, you were tended to by seven prostitutes dressed as each of the Seven aspects all of whom circled around you when these fanatics barged in and… beat you horribly."
Silent gasps filled the room; Daveth and Sansa, who initially were sympathetic to the High Septon's plight, quickly frowned at the startling new controversy surrounding the capital. As the Master of Whisperers, Varys commanded the largest spy network in the known world—almost nothing got past him and the eunuch would always learn almost everything occurring at almost every location at almost any time. The shocking news dissipated any ounce of sympathy for the leader of the Faith of the Seven, to learn of his 'indulgence' at a local brothel.
"High Septon!" Sansa chastised.
Mace nodded in agreement. "High Septon, this is a rather shocking thing to hear."
Even King Daveth Baratheon, although remaining silent, simply stared at the High Septon with great disappointment. Knowing all eyes were locked solely on him—feeling himself being made a target—the High Septon tried shifting the argument away from him.
"I tend to both the highest born and the lowliest amongst us. Even prostitutes may earn the mercy of the Mother."
"So you were administering to the needs of these devout prostitutes?" Trystane inquired.
"A man's private affairs ought to stay private!" Pycelle complained.
Finally having enough of the argument, Daveth raised his hand—demanding silence. "What do you want from us, High Septon?" he pressed.
"Justice!" he answered. "I ask that you protect our Faith by arresting these criminals and throwing them in the black cells. I ask that you execute their leader, this so-called High Sparrow. He's a threat to everything we hold sacred. If he goes unpunished—"
"The Sparrows will be dealt with accordingly," the Young Stag interrupted. "Until the matter is settled, it would be for the best if you were to remain in the Red Keep under the crown's protection instead of the Great Sept of Baelor. They'd be less likely to go after you here than out on the streets," He glanced at a nearby gold cloak. "Commander Duran."
A grizzled, middle-aged veteran of the City Watch in King's Landing with more than 25 years of experience in law enforcement, Duran Stonetree was a respected official who was appointed to replace Ser Bronn as Commander of the City Watch upon the sellsword's arranged marriage to Lady Raina Fishport of Summerhall. Since assuming command of the City Watch, Duran proved to be a tough but fair and effective leader—reforming the gold cloaks, routing out corrupt officers within its ranks, strengthening public safety and maintaining order in the streets.
"Yes, Your Grace?" he stated.
"Have the gold cloaks begin rounding up any possible suspects involved with attacking the High Septon and bring them in for questioning. Be sure to have them track down this High Sparrow as well and report your findings to the Master of Laws… and me."
Duran nodded. "At once, Your Grace," he said gruffly before turning around and leaving the room with several of his men.
For a moment, the High Septon appeared to be relieved that justice will soon be meted out, but his face soon changed expression when he noticed Daveth glanced in his direction.
"In the meantime," he continued, "Trystane, send a missive to the Most Devout. I imagine the pious clergymen will not be pleased when they hear of His Holiness's… activities. The crown is disappointed with you, High Septon."
"B-but, Your Grace," he stammered nervously, "I-I officiated your wedding! I officiated your brother's wedding—"
"The Sparrow's sins do not pardon your own. I believed you were a good man when I selected you to the office after your predecessor was killed in the riots, Your Holiness, but it seems my trust was misplaced. The Most Devout will decide what becomes of you. This meeting of the Small Council is hereby adjourned. Dismissed."
—Later that night—
It was a very long day before the sun started setting. Council sessions, startling revelations surrounding the embattled High Septon… all in all, it gave Daveth quite a big headache. He and his wife returned to their bedroom, laying out everything they need for tomorrow. Sansa was set to take a ship to White Harbor with her personal guard first thing in the morning, knowing from Shae that her handmaiden and mother Catelyn will be taking care of her son and daughter while she herself was away.
While Sansa was brushing out her hair—donned in her white nightgown, Daveth discarded his shirt standing in the mirror across the room—looking at his reflection, more distinctively the scars across his body and face.
"Mother has offered to help look after the kids while this mess is being sorted out," Sansa said. "She's putting them to sleep into their cribs right now."
"I'm sure Lyonel and Cassana will enjoy spending some quality time with their grandmother these next few days. You sure you have everything you need?"
"Just about."
Daveth shook his head. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked.
Sansa set her hairbrush down and looked over her shoulder. "Are you referring to what just happened with the High Septon this morning?"
"In a way, I suppose. Religion and fanatics don't mix, but…"
"If you're asking me whether or not you should have conducted yourself in front of the Small Council better, love, then the answer yes. You were a bit harsh on him."
Daveth sighed. "Well, at least you're honest about it."
Sansa raised an eyebrow. "I get the feeling there's more on your mind," she approached him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Talk to me, and don't tell me 'it's nothing serious'. I know you. I know when something's not right."
'How perspective of you,' he understood. Though hesitant, Daveth obeyed and sat next to his wife. "I need your counsel, Sansa. I feel lost."
"What troubles you, my husband?"
"This… is tough to explain. Nothing makes sense anymore."
"Any that stands out in particular?"
"It's… a hard topic to discuss; but I'd like to talk about what happened last night."
Sansa knew what he was referring to. "You had me very worried, Daveth, more so than usual."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do," she replied rather firm. "Have you even considered what I was feeling that night? What it was like to feel so helpless?" her tone rose, almost yelling until her throat grew sore. "I thought you were dead you were so ill. As Septa Rosyn helped me change your sheets, wipe your face clean and treat you as you suffered deeply from pneumonia, I was watching you slowly die and… and…"
Sansa shook with anguish and frustration; what's worse is how horrible it made Daveth feel when she finally let it all out in the open. She looked as if she was about to cry—whether out of frustration or anguish—but was forcing herself to keep her eyes dry. Raising his right hand out, the Young Stag flinched for a bit when Sansa almost looked away from him – but instead chose to place his arm around her shoulder and used his left to cup her chin to turn her head so she could look at him.
Sansa's body trembled a bit. "How was I going to explain to Lyonel or Cassana that their father might not come back this time? How much they cried their eyes out, their tiny hands clutching my dress, each time calling for 'dada'," her voice finally cracked. "Blackwater Bay, the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, Dorne… whenever you left, I spent every single day waiting for you to come home—knowing full well it might not happen. When you did, it made me so happy but when you became so sick… I thought karma finally caught up to you. You might not have noticed it, but I did. Your sister did, your brother did, your uncles did. We all did! You can't keep doing this to us, Daveth, to our family. So take my advice for what you will, but I won't sit by and watch you keep doing this to yourself again."
Daveth felt blindsided as Sansa literally just emotionally laid into him without any restraint. All he could do was massage her back and hold her close, doing his best to reassure her that he won't ever leave her side. With each tremble, Sansa breathe shook a bit as she worked to calm herself down. Daveth kissed her forehead and hugged her, an act which Sansa herself reciprocated.
"No, I do know what it's like to feel helpless," he whispered. "Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, my friends at Lannisport… when they died, I blamed myself for not being able to save them. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried… it still happened regardless. I know that there are things that are just beyond our ability to predict nor control, I'm just… I'm sick and tired of it all. The nightmares, the guilt, not being able to protect the ones I care about as they slip away… Fuck, all of it. But I couldn't bring it upon myself to abandon those who still need me." Daveth reached into his pocket and pulled out the old, tattered and torn blue scarf. Sansa recognized it as she knitted it for him. "I love my wife, our son, our daughter… our family. You saved me from myself and more. I love all of you so much the mere thought of losing you is just… I couldn't…"
'I suppose we both still have much to work and improve on. After all, we are still human,' Sansa thought sadly. She kissed him and held him close. "What is it you want?" she asked curiously.
"You first," Daveth countered.
The Wolf Queen allowed a small, quiet chuckle. "All right then. What I want is some peace and quiet for once with the man I love and watch our little ones grow. Your turn."
"What I want…" he paused temporarily, "what I want is a simple, quiet life. No politics, no plotting, no wars… The two of us staying together until both of us reach old age and a lot of little runts running around."
Sansa blinked for a moment. "You want… you want more children?" she asked, finally realizing what it was that Daveth wanted.
"Do you?"
"I'm not opposed to the idea, considering the fact that both of us come from large families and we've just started our own with Lyonel and Cassana without rush, of course, but… are you sure this is what you want?"
Daveth nodded, never breaking eye-contact. "Not unless if you think otherwise before heading out tomorrow morning, not without your consent," he answered. "We're still young and have plenty of time, but… family is not always about blood ties or noble houses, but rather it is a bond between those around you. The ones who want you in their life just as much as you want them in yours. It is that bond no one can ever take away."
Touched, Sansa was stunned for a bit. But before she could reply, Daveth claimed her lips with his. Sansa sighed into the kiss and reciprocated, feeling as if all their troubles were just washing away now that everything was out in the open. It was a big weight off her shoulders. Pulling away to catch their breath, Sansa gave a small nod in approval.
"If it's what you want, then… I won't deny you that request, so long as you in turn agree to promise me that you'll take better care of yourself this time."
"It won't be easy, but you have my word," Daveth promised.
Sansa nodded and wrapped her arms around Daveth's neck to pull him into a kiss—all the while he went to work squeezing her butt with one hand and sliding the other under her nightgown to fondle a breast with the other. Softly at first, then ran his thumb lightly across her nipple, back and forth and back and forth until the Young Stag felt it stiffen.
"A-aaah~" Sansa choked out a quiet moan, her cheeks blushing a pretty shade of pink.
Lifting one hand under her nightgown, Daveth lifted it over Sansa's head and discarded it to the floor—revealing her naked form to him. Eager for more, the Young Stag gently lays Sansa down onto the bed on her back and kissed his wife hungrily whilst she worked to undo the laces on his pants; finally the Wolf Queen untied the final lace to allow Daveth to remove his trousers, kicking them off when they got stuck around his ankles. By now, there was nothing but bare skin touching.
Sansa bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, watching as she felt Daveth's mouth upon her left breast, teeth raking over the nipple tenderly, and teasing it with his tongue while he kneaded the right breast. Pleasure shot throughout her body; Sansa ran her fingers through jet black hair before reaching down her husband's body to wrap her hand around his stiff manhood, stroking up and down in a fluid motion. Within moments, Daveth was hard as a rock.
"Ah, Sansa," his face contorted, never breaking eye contact with his wife.
Sansa was a nose tip away from Daveth's. "Does that feel good?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he confirmed. "But… how about this?"
Before Sansa could reply, she gasped as she felt Daveth's free hand sliding between her legs to stroke her womanhood in a circular motion before slipping two of his fingers in and out of her wet opening. Whenever Daveth thrusted into her hand, Sansa rocked her hips and spread her legs to give the massaging hand better access as her fluids flowed.
"Lie down for me," Sansa whispered.
Daveth obeyed his Queen's order, lying down on his back—watching as Sansa stood up still gripping his erect manhood in her hand. She continued stroking him before leaning forward and kissed the tip; Sansa giggled when it twitched in her hand, indicating Daveth was enjoying it. She gave one more stroke before swirling her tongue in a circular motion around the head before engulfing the shaft into her warm wet mouth. Hot saliva coated Daveth's manhood, the Young Stag's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head.
Sansa bobbed her head up and down, coating Daveth's erection with her saliva. Daveth's face twisted and clasped his wife's butt and gave a squeeze. The Wolf Queen yelped as she felt his hand roaming across her behind and rubbing her in small circles, prompting her to get back at her husband—continuing her fellatio, sucking harder on him until she switched to flick her tongue at the tip when she reached the apex and fondled his balls.
"S-Sansa, I-I'm going to…" Daveth groaned.
Feeling him twitch in her mouth, Sansa pulled off her husband's manhood with a wet pop, leaving a small trail of drool and saliva coating him. She wiped her mouth and gazed at Daveth, whose breathing slowly stabilized but still cupped her buttocks. He looked at his wife with hunger in his eyes.
"Come here," he commanded, his voice deepened with a husky desire.
Sansa laid down beside her husband on the bed. The cold made her shiver, but she obeyed. Her eyes were focused on Daveth, and she waited. After a moment, he positioned himself on top of her but placed both hands on her thighs and spread her legs apart. Sansa was rather surprised with Daveth's sudden act, not knowing what to expect next. The Young Stag simply gave a smug grin when he noticed how Sansa's womanhood was dripping.
"Well, well, Your Grace," he teased, "look at how wet you are."
Sansa's eyes widened and her face blushed harder at the vulgarity. "D-don't say such things like that in front of me!" she exclaimed embarrassed.
"Why not? What you did to me just now, you've done so twice. This time allow me to return the favor."
"What are you—" Sansa asked before being cut off by a new sensation. "Oh. Oooh. Ooooh~!" she closed her eyes and threw her head back against the pillow, arching her back upwards and opened her mouth in an 'o' shape filled with silent gasps.
Daveth pressed his mouth between Sansa's thighs as he tasted her. So sweet, almost like honey that he wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled her closer to him, burying his mouth in her folds. He could hear Sansa's breathing growing heavy and feel her body jolt in response to him lapping at her folds, up her labia, nipping gently at her sensitive bud.
"Oooh, Daveth, haah~" Sansa gasps and moans, raking her fingers through his hair. "Mmm, oh right there, love. Haah, haah… Oh Gods, it's so good."
The Young Stag speculated at how Sansa was egging him on like that, he must've been at least doing something right. 'She's getting close. Well, let's see if we can push her past her breaking point. Time to sing a song for me, Sansa.'
Daveth intensified his ravishing of her, gazing up at her from between her legs, listening to her mewling cries before extending his right hand up Sansa's body to knead the soft mounds of her breast again. Thinking now was the time to act, the Young Stag slid his middle and ring finger into her opening as he attacked her bud.
"O-Oh Gods!" Sansa gripped the bedsheets tightly, her knuckles almost turning white. Even when Daveth was performing oral on her, he was painstakingly slow about it, clamping down onto her labia until she felt his fingers massaging her G-spot inside—causing her to buck her hips slightly against him until she felt a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. "D-Daveth, I… I'm about to… I-I can't… I can't hold it any longer…"
'Yes, that's it. There she is,' he smirked triumphantly, removing his mouth from her cunt. "Let it out, Sansa. Don't hold back. Come on," he murmured teasingly—increasing the pace of his fingers moving in and out of her.
"A-Ah, ahhh AHHHH~!" Sansa cried, her back arching off the bed as a wave of orgasm washed over her, her whole body trembled, muscles tensing up and coiling around Daveth's fingers until she gradually came down from her climax, panting heavily and covered in sweat, her cheeks flushed a deep and satisfying shade of pink.
Daveth withdrew his fingers from his wife, looking at his nectar-covered digits. He allowed Sansa a moment to catch her breath, watching her chest rise and fall. Once she was back at 100%, Sansa watched as Daveth climbed on top of her.
"Where… where did you learn to do that?" she asked.
"I didn't," he answered. "Does this please you, my Queen?"
"Mhmm."
Daveth parted a few strands of red hair out of Sansa's face and pressed his forehead to hers, taking her hands in his. "Have I told you how beautiful you are?"
Sansa nodded amusingly. "Ha-ha, you've been saying that to me for the last four years now," she heaved a breathless laugh. "You, on the other hand, are still a pervert."
Daveth looked down to realize he hadn't recognized he was pressing the tip of her manhood directly at her entrance. He settles his weight on one forearm, using his other to rub the tip of his erect tool up and down the wetness of her folds, listening to the little whimpers Sansa lets out every time he rubs her.
"I'm going to put it in now," he tells her. "Are you ready?"
Sansa nods yes and wraps her arms around her husband's neck, glancing downwards to see Daveth sheathing his manhood inside her, ever so slowly until he buried himself deep within her. Sansa groaned and dragged her fingernails across Daveth's back, feeling so full by her husband again as her hot inner wall muscles wrapped tightly around him. The Young Stag groaned as well and buried his face into the side of Sansa's neck, nipping at the nape and collarbone before moving his hips against hers.
Daveth gripped Sansa's hips and pounded into her cunt; the sound of their skin slapping came with each thrust. Sansa huffed and panted, her eyes are closed and her mouth opened in a silent cry. Both husband and wife gazed down to where their bodies were joined watching Daveth's manhood slide in and out.
"Uhh, nngh, aah~" she moaned. "So deep… Harder, harder. Oh Gods!"
Daveth held Sansa close as he complied with her demands, rolling around in bed with her until she found herself on top of him. During the lovemaking, however, Sansa felt Daveth slide out of her. Growing impatient, Sansa steadily lifted herself up and gripped his manhood and directed it at her entrance before lowering herself down onto it, completely engulfing the shaft all the way to the base. He was back inside her; Sansa shivered and placed her hands on Daveth's chest to steady herself as he grasped her hips.
"Ah… Sansa…" He groaned.
With that, Sansa moved her hips up and then back down. The sounds of their skin smacking against each other echoed throughout the bedroom. Sansa leaned her head back as Daveth ogled her beasts, which bounced up and down as she rode him. Her eyes were closed so she could concentrate not only on her movements, but also to allow herself the experience of feeling of pleasure with the man she loved when she felt her husband's manhood poking at her sensitive parts which sent another tingling sensation throughout her body.
"Mmmm, ahh~… Is-is it good for you…?" Sansa moaned.
Daveth thrusted his hips up inside Sansa, his balls slapping against her butt with each clap, clap, clap, clap as he squeezed her butt. "More than you, ahh… might think…" he replied. Soon enough, he felt himself pressure building in his loins. "Sansa, it's… it's going to happen again," he warned.
Sansa knew he was about to explode at any moment. She bit her lip and rode him faster and harder, wanting to finish with him as she too felt another orgasm approaching. "M-me too," she replied.
Daveth shut his eyes tight and gripped Sansa's hips tighter; his thrusts meeting her bouncing grew increasingly erratic. Shouting with a loud 'Ahh!', Daveth thrusted hard and shot his potent seed into Sansa, covering her walls in white. Sansa threw her head back as her walls clamped around her husband's stiff manhood and gave into her release as well. She could feel his hot seed inside traveling up and into her womb with each spurt. Rope after rope, Daveth pumped up into his wife.
Sansa shook and shuddered before she finally collapsed onto Daveth's chest from another orgasm of the night, before rolling off of him and laid flat onto her stomach. Sansa's breathing shook as she felt Daveth's seed leaking out of her, her arms trembled and her legs felt weak.
"D-Daveth, that was… amazing…" she panted. Silence filled the room until the Wolf Queen felt something behind her. Sansa shot her head up and looked behind over her shoulder to see Daveth gripping her waist with his left hand and raised her butt up to face him and guided his still erect manhood at her opening with his right, rubbing the tip against her walls. "Wha… A-again?" she exclaimed surprised.
Daveth didn't answer—all thought was gone from his mind—and easily slid his manhood back into Sansa's filled cunt. Sansa shuddered at him entering her again, finding herself on her hands and knees as he pounded into her from behind like a dog mounting a bitch in heat. Daveth pulled back slowly and then pushed back fast and hard inside her. Sansa gripped her bedsheets and pressed her face into the pillow, the sound of her groans were muffled by the cushion as Daveth continued the same pattern; withdrawing slowly and going back in.
The two continued their second act of lovemaking of the night doggy style for a while. Their pants, moans and sounds of Daveth's hips slapping Sansa's butt were the only sloppy sounds of their union that they could hear. Daveth was doing everything he possible could to give Sansa the best sex, but even he tried his best not to hurt her in the process. Even his consciousness remained intact and knew Sansa would just warn him if she was ever uncomfortable.
Sansa bit down onto the pillow the moment she felt Daveth hitting her cervix before wave after wave of orgasms washed over her. Eventually, she was nearing her limit again and expected her husband to finish and possibly reach his one last time of the night. Sansa gasped when Daveth reached around and grabbed her breasts, massaging and rubbing them while still pounding as deep as he could possibly go.
Again, Daveth was nearing his limits again. "I'm almost there, Sansa," he whispered into her ear, "I'm almost there."
"F-finish inside me, love. Hurry; please," she pleaded, the only response she could muster. Sansa was getting tired and had already reached her limit.
The Young Stag held his wife tighter and concentrated on nothing except his release. Eventually, he felt himself twitch and spill more of his seed inside Sansa, filling her up even more.
"Fuuuuuuck!" Daveth groaned, spurting another load into the woman below him—more powerful and stronger than the first. His thrusts steadily subsided with each spurt as the two of them stayed still, except for a twitch here and there. One more thrust and Daveth completely emptied out all he had for the day before slowly withdrawing his manhood from Sansa, watching as some of his seed leaked out of her entrance.
Both collapsed on the bed, panting heavily and worn out by the intimate lovemaking. Now that they were both completely exhausted, their minds were coming back and it didn't take long for Sansa to stare at Daveth despite her body trembling and shaking.
"Wa… *huff* warn me ahead *huff* of time the," she panted in a scolding manner, "…the next time you… *huff* do a stunt like that again *huff*."
Daveth's arm shook as he rubbed the back of his head and held her close. "S-sorry," he panted apologetically. "G-guess I got *huff*… got carried away… *huff*"
"I… *huff* I forgive you… Just don't… *huff* just don't do that again."
Pulling the bed sheets over them to keep them warm from the cold of night, Daveth held his wife close, planting his chin atop of her head. Sansa knew something still bothered him and looked up at his blue eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Daveth looked down worriedly at her. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there," he whispered almost pleadingly. "If anything were to ever happen to you, I…"
Sansa cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb across his stubble. "You aren't going to lose me," she reassured him.
He seemed to relax a bit. "I believe you," hugging her. "I love you, Sansa."
"I love you too, Daveth."
Once the candles were blown out, the two went to sleep—somewhat dreading for the inevitable separation first thing tomorrow morning. For Daveth, he had just woken up from being dead for the second time only to return where his world would seemingly fall out from underneath him. Deep down, the Young Stag simply wanted answers and a possible end to the nightmares of unknown possibilities that would plague him.
He just simply closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment's peace, even if it was brief.
Chapter End
Author's Note: Well, who would have guessed that after so many chapters Sansa Stark would finally explode and vent all her frustrations to Daveth like that. Turns out the Young Stag wasn't the only one who's been feeling so stressed out to the point where she couldn't just keep it suppressed any more. The wolf in her had bubbled to the surface, and Sansa had seemingly taken personal charge. Sansa would be off on her own to investigate events going on in the North while Daveth and the others deal with the Sparrows in the capital city while Varys looks eastwards in Essos.
Also, keep in mind next chapter will be the conclusion of Season 5 before we finally move on to Season 6. What do you guys think? Let me know.
Silent Wolf Singer: I find it funny that the High Sparrow gets lecture of breaking his vows, and later that night the couple gets it on. Also Sansa is married to a Baratheon isn't there a running joke that Stags are highly sexually active?
C.E.W: Sansa heading North to investigate which is a dangerous risk. Daveth works to deal with the Sparrows, I fear they'll cause damage that ruin the unity of the Kingdoms and enable Daenerys to invade. Robb Stark is likely to be alerted, its only a matter of time before a raven arrives from King's Landing to inform Robb of the situation. Ramsay is not going to sit back and wait to be put on trial, he is going to make a move to defend himself. Ramsay may kill his father and form an alliance with the Karstarks to rebel.
birdy: wow
RHatch89: Awesome update, although I can't help wondering how is the fact that Daveth and Sansa are competant and beloved rulers with the backing of all of Westeros going to impact Daenerys (who originally had Dorne, the Reach, half of the Iron Fleet, and Tyrion Lannister to help her.)
Hear My Fury: Well that was... interesting. I'm guessing Sansa is going to be pregnant again. Ramsay is gonna get a rude awakening from the Wolf Queen for what he did to her best friend. Hopefully also Daveth can deal with the Sparrows. Really hope the Tyrells don't pull a Cersei and give them control, doubtful but I'd still keep an eye on them.
ALPHAomega239: No Cersei, Baelish, Joffrey or Gregory. No wildfire. No Red or Purple Wedding. Tommen and Myrcella are alive. Stannis Baratheon's rebellion is not happening. House Martell, Tyrell, Stark, are still intact and all Seven Kingdoms are united.
Am I to guess there will be no more destruction of any houses?
10868letsgo: that scene is great. can't wait for more.
prince711: Why on earth would Sansa need to personally investigate this ? They can Authorize the Warden of the North to investigate this as this is a personal attack on the House Stark by Ramsay Snow if he has kidnapped Arya Stark
—True, but you know how important family is to the Starks. If one of their own is in trouble, then the whole pack jumps in to protect them.
mpowers045: Well the High Septon deserved that humiliation for being a hypocrite, I mean that goes to show you that when priests became head of the religion they think they have an authority and power to do whatever they want, take Rodrigo Borgia for an example