Chapter 21

That evening, Sansa found herself feeling more at a loss than she had in a long time. She had been expecting it to feel reassuring to finally be back home, but instead found herself feeling unsure. She felt…disjointed. Not entirely connected to what was going on around her. Especially after what had happened with her uncle and their soothsayer, Ebren.

Ebren wasn't someone that she had ever felt very comfortable around, as he was always speaking of prophecy, and to hear that stupid prophecy once more…it made her stomach turn.

She settled into the large bed, and Bronn looked as if he was going to make himself at home on the floor in front of the hearth.

Her first instinct was to ask him to join her…but even as she sat up in bed, her fingers curled around the edge of the heavy fur, her left foot dangling towards the floor, she hesitated. It certainly wasn't proper, and if anyone found out, they might try to keep her from leading the Stark family. Sansa sat in an odd position, halfway between going back under the covers and sliding out and going to Bronn. Finally, she chose a middle ground, and called out to him. He looked up at her, most of his layers gone except for his tunic and trousers.

"Yes, milady?"

She paused and licked her lips.

"Would you…I mean, would it be alright if…it's just that the floor doesn't seem all that comfortable, and I was wondering if you…might…"

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet and drawled out, "Oh, for cryin' out loud, girl. If you want me to join you in the bed, jus' say so," and got in on the other side of the bed and then reached over and wrapped an arm around her middle, startling her as he tugged her back against him, so that his right arm held her lightly against his chest and his legs curled up under hers.

"I…I…."

"Would you rather I freeze to death on the cold floor?" he muttered into her ear, and Sansa let out an annoyed sigh.

"Like you would freeze next to that fire," she mumbled under her breath, and he snorted and retorted, "Maybe not, but my back wouldn't be the least bit happy 'bout it, and to be honest, I've gotten rather used to your snoring. Helps me get to sleep."

At that, she turned in his grasp and pushed a hand against his chest and said, "I do not snore. It's unladylike to snore."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't change a thing. You snore. Now, how's about you turn yourself back around so we can get to fuckin' sleep?"

Feeling unsure, and yet secure in his familiar grasp, she inquired in a soft voice, "Bronn…do you think they'll listen to me?", and he gave her a look. It was one that she'd seen only a handful of times before, usually right before he told her that she could take on armies with just a single glance. She waited for his answer, which would be something bold and impassioned, she was certain, but he took her off guard when he murmured, "I don't know, to be honest…"

Oh. Well…that wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. He seemed to see her unspoken disappointment in his words, and he cupped his hand warmly around her hip, pulling her slightly closer to him, and finally managed to finish his thought.

"Sansa…family isn't always easy. And they tend to see you in one way for most of your life. When you left, do you remember what you were like?"

She nodded, and her nose scrunched up in embarrassment at the thought, and he chuckled and arched an eyebrow in silent agreement and said, "Yeah…they still see the girl with fairy-tale dreams, who thinks every story has a good ending." He paused, moving his hand up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "They don't know the woman you've become just yet. Sure, there's the prophecy," he said, cutting her off just as she opened her mouth to object, "But that's only one man who sees what you're becomin'…most of them won't see it."

Sansa looked between them, where her hand still rested on his chest, and moved her fingers to the dangling string on his open collared tunic.

They lay there for a long time, neither of them saying a word, the pops, hisses, and crackling coming from the fireplace the only sound to break up the silence. His hand wandered back down to her waist, and his thumb began to absently trace circles on her cloth-covered thigh, causing a soft warmth to spread from where he touched her.

Distractedly, she tugged on the string.

"I guess…I guess I'll have to make them see it," she finally said, her voice steadier than she was expecting, and he smiled.

"Oh, I don't doubt you will, girl," he drawled, squeezing her hip, and she squirmed slightly under his touch. At seeing her reaction, his smile turned into a smirk…and he pulled her slightly closer, their hips almost flush against each other, barely enough space for a hand to fit through.

Unable to keep it from escaping, she let out a small gasp…and he grinned.

Taking her off guard, he slowly moved her to her back and he rose up over her, giving her every opportunity to push him away…and then pressed an unexpectedly soft kiss against her lips that she slowly melted into, her thighs rising up between his, and he pulled back just far enough to breathe hot air over her mouth and say just above a whisper in a breathless tone, "I'm going to give you something, Sansa…" He slid down, one hand moving to the hem of her nightgown and the other holding onto her thigh. "…Something that will take your mind off such pressing matters."

Slightly scared, but also having complete trust in him, she didn't protest when he slowly started to pull up the edge of her nightgown.

Up. Over her calves, knees…

She was exposed.

Forcing her eyes tightly shut, she turned her head to the side…and was confused when she felt his hand leave her leg and fingertips gently touch her chin, turning her head back towards him. Confused, she opened her eyes to see Bronn staring at her, his expression softer than she'd ever seen it before.

"Sansa…"

He said her name like a benediction.

"Bronn, what…?"

He traced a thumb over her lips, which parted softly, and then asked gently, "May I?" Slightly confused, but knowing that she could trust him to keep her safe, she nodded and was about to close her eyes again, when he suddenly said, "Keep them open, girl…"

She did.

He slid back down between her legs, his fingers on her knees, gently spreading them apart…and then sliding up her thighs, leaving trails of fire behind them that seemed to be igniting pops and fizzes in her body, just like the fire burning in the hearth, only hotter and sweeter.

He then moved his head down and Sansa stared, completely baffled as to what he was doing. An exquisite hot wetness slid up the inside of her left thigh and her whole body shivered, but he held her down easily and did the same to the other side. She felt unsure of what to do with her hands, so they clenched and unclenched against the bearskin covers as his tongue continued to trace lines over and over into her skin. Ever so slowly, his hands inched further up, as did his mouth, and Sansa found her body trying to move towards his heat, the pressure restraining her only making it burn brighter.

"B-Bronn…"

She felt his lips move against her skin, as if he was smiling…and then there was something hot and slick brushing up against her center and she let out a sharp gasp that quickly turned into a cry as his tongue slipped down into a place she hadn't even explored on her own. Her hips strained upwards, but he held her down, his tongue finding a soft spot that sent something zinging up her spine she felt a much larger sound lodged in her throat, straining, needing to break free, but she held it in.

Even as a finger traced down into wet folds, parting her, the pressure building, uncomfortable at first…but then he did something, and a sudden, broken cry ripped from her, echoing off the ceiling. As if encouraged, Bronn slowly, achingly so, pulled his finger back…and then back in. And then he did it again. And again. And again.

Soon, she found herself riding something, a feeling that was growing larger and larger with each movement of his hand.

Suddenly, it was gone, and she reached a hand down for his hair, to tell him not to stop, but the instant her hand brushed against his tangled locks, there was more pressure…and then there were two inside of her, and, oh, that was a bit more then she expected and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, but then it felt good again, and, once more, she was moving her hips up to his fingers and he was rubbing inside of her and, oh gods above, it was exquisite and made her want to curl her body in half, but he held her down…

…and then his lips were at that secret spot once more, tongue wrapping around it and then lips and then he was gently sucking.

Oh. Oh!

Suddenly, the wave was no longer a roll, but a massive building one, riding higher and higher and higher and…oh, gods, she didn't know what to do…

"Let it go," he gasped out, and then leaned back in and his tongue drew her into his mouth with such a force that she felt the wave cresting…and then his fingers slid in all the way and the wave broke over her in waves, her body clenching, grasping, even as his tongue slid down and joined his fingers, lapping at her, never stopping the soft thrusting of his hand…and then there was another wave, and she felt tears sliding down her cheeks as she crashed over it, her thighs quivering and shaking, her toes clenched, curled up tightly against the bed.

Bronn slowly pulled back, smiling, his lips wet, and lifted his fingers to his mouth and gently swiped them clean with his tongue, the one that had been between her legs not moments before.

"Lovely," he murmured, and then slid his tunic effortlessly over his shoulders and used it to gently wipe her between her legs, while she stared at him in wonder. This was not something that her mother or septa had ever told her about. Not even Marjory had ever said a word.

As he settled back next to her, already drawing her nightclothes back down over her legs and pulling the blanket over them, she softly whispered, "Bronn?"

"What?"

Sansa hesitated, and then finally said, "That was…it was…I don't have the words," but he gently drew her to him, spooning back up behind her, where she felt something warm and hard pressing into her hip, cutting off her words. She was supposed to…well, everything she'd been told said that…god, she couldn't even think it.

Hesitant and unsure, she asked, "Do…do you need me to…?"

The sellsword cut her off with a snort and drawled, "That'll take of itself, girl. Now, rest, and I just might be generous and give you another roll in the mornin'. Now. Go to sleep."

With that declaration, he pressed her back firmly to his bare chest, his hand resting territorially around her stomach, his fingers stretched down beneath her belly button. Eventually, she settled back into his arms, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Whatever it was, it had been wonderful. And…it was going to happen again? In the morning?

For some reason, her problems seemed much smaller than before. Sansa didn't know how that was, but she wasn't going to think on it too long.

She was warm.

She was asleep.

Part 21/?