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CHAPTER 7
Sandor was standing in the courtyard, a large shaggy ginger man enrobing him as the winter wind swirled around their heads. He seemed awkward at the expression of affection from another man, but stood stiffly taking the hug for the benefit of the delighted northerner.
When the ginger finally stopped clutching, shaking and slapping Sandor on the back, Sansa could see it was Tormund Giantsbane, a wildling leader Jon had left manning Eastwatch by the Sea.
"You remember Sansa Stark, Jon's sister, Lady of Winterfell?" Sandor said simply as she approached them.
The big man launched himself at Sansa, crushing her.
Laughing in a loud rumble, he said "Aye, the sister touched-by-fire. Jon's treasure." Before stepping back to admire her from top to toe, leaving Sansa blushing under his scrutiny.
"And, you'll be keeping your fucking hands off that treasure. You great hairy bastard!" Sandor said, as he put a possessive arm around Sansa's waist and drew her firmly to his side, before running his fingers through her hair to stake his claim.
The wildling roared with laughter. "Bugger me. An ugly cunt like you has snatched the likes of her!" He said, punching Sandor in the shoulder.
"Aye, and there will be no-one snatching her from me, if they want to live." He said, his face serious to match his tone.
"Argh, don't fear brother! My heart still longs for that giant woman." He said with slight melancholy, before suddenly asking hopefully, "Is she here?"
"It's Brienne of fucken' Tarth he wants to stick his cock in." Sandor told Sansa, before replying to Tormund, "Aye, she's here somewhere."
The news set a new glow on the already spirited man.
"You can find the bitch yourself." Sandor grumbled.
"Still not forgiven her for almost killing you then?" The wildling teased.
Sandor just grunted.
"How did you get here? We were told Eastwatch and the wall had fallen." Sansa asked.
"Your brother snuck north in the night on a bloody dragon, and rescued the few of us who were there. Most died when Eastwatch collapsed, but those that survived hid themselves from the army of the dead. The cunts have moved further south, taking our dead with them." He was suddenly grave.
"They're still a long way from here." He added. "Well, I'm not going to waste my time talking to you, when that blonde goddess is here to be found. Her loins will be craving a dose of me before nightfall if I corner her right." He said smiling at Sandor, before giving him a final slap and wandering off into the crowd.
Sandor stood watching him leave, before gruffly saying, "He's got about as much chance with that bloody bitch as …"
"The likes of you has with me?" Sansa cut in.
He grabbed a fist full of her arse before slapping it.
"Fair enough, little bird." He said, resigned to the truth of it. He was daily in awe of having secured her heart, and unlikely to forget the improbability of it any time soon.
When Sansa entered the great hall to dine that evening, she wasn't surprised to find Tyrion sitting next to his brother, Jamie. The tall handsome brother had arrived at Winterfell during her inspection of the Dreadfort. It had not been entirely unexpected to hear that their sister Cersei had reneged on the agreed truce, conniving bitch that she was. She'd sent no men to help with the struggle to the north. Despite this, the southern war with Cersei was not one they could dedicate any energy or thought to. Their focus was rightly to the north and the horror that was to come.
What had shocked Sansa was that Jamie had remained true to his own word, in spite of his sister, and ridden north alone to honour the agreement. His skill as a leader of men and strategist would not go unappreciated, even though his own usefulness with a sword had been severely compromised with the loss of his dominate hand.
Brienne sat the other side of Jamie, the contented look about her shattered by the arrival of Tormund who took up a seat opposite her. He was making a valiant and animated effort to flatter her. On the surface Jamie projected enjoyment at watching the wildling's attempts to gain her heart, but a keen eye could see beneath his charming show and notice the small glances he always seemed to favour her with. Sansa suspected his time as her ward had perhaps lit a candle of admiration within him, despite Brienne being nothing like his now abandoned love, his twin Cersei. Or perhaps, it was just that reason that she intrigued him, that she was like no-one he had ever known.
His former relationship could never be condoned in any part of Westeros, despite Cersei's assumption that her position as ruling Queen allowed her leeway to behave as she pleased. The people would simply not accept a brother and sister loving and breeding together as they had.
Sansa couldn't quite read whether Brienne herself favoured either man. It was clear she found Jamie attractive and had a solid friendship with him. His admiration for her had meant she had been gifted a Valyrian steel sword years before and been entrusted to track down Arya and Sansa in order that Jamie may keep the oath he had given their mother before her death. But, although she appeared to give off an annoyed impression at Tormund's attempts to woo her, Sansa had seen her watching him with a curious look in her eye whenever he turned his attention away from her.
At 6'3" Brienne was unused to having any suitors who accepted her for her knight-like skills and presence, and she seemed positively lost at the idea that there was one genuine and, if not, perhaps two men who held an interest in her.
It was no easy thing for Sandor to sit with the Lannister brothers, having been in the employ of their family and subservient to them for most of his life, but Sansa delighted in his contrived efforts to be civil. In private she had reminded him during the past week that they now stood no higher than him. Their family pile, Casterly Rock, had been abandoned, its gold mines exhausted, and although they traded on the favour of their family name, in truth they could no longer be considered a truly important family in any part of the country. Cersei's reign had been brought about by her marriage to the late King Robert Baratheon, besides it hung by a thread, with little support.
Jamie was politely discussing northern strategy with Sandor, when Tormund had suggested to Brienne that they two do some training with dragon glass weapons on the morrow. Sandor had been quick to encourage the match. Sansa felt that perhaps he thought Tormund had an advantage with the weapon and was keen to see him take down Brienne.
"Shall we wager on it?" Tyrion proposed mischievously, as he supped on his wine.
"I'll not hold back." Brienne announced, serious and confident as always. "Training or not, I've taken down the Hound in the past and could take down you." Casting a look at Sandor and making him squirm in his seat as if he were a far smaller man, before turning her gaze to Tormund.
"Lady Sansa, may tally points. If I win, you leave me in peace for the week." Her clear blue eyes piercing him.
"And if I win, you spend some time alone with me." Tormund grinned through his bushy beard.
"Ugh!" Brienne protested.
"Not in any rutting way." Tormund explained.
"At least not unless you want to? I would happily rut with you for as long as you could handle." He winked at her and she blushed strongly through her seeming disgust.
"Just time, to know me, you understand." His gravelly voice genuine in its desire. "You may even like what you see when we fight, and throw the match in the end." He said, his chuckle filling the air.
"A gold dragon on Brienne." Jamie announced confidently.
She almost smiled in appreciation, but she was not prone to flashing her teeth unnecessarily.
"The match will have to be early." Sansa interrupted. "I have much to do all day, every day. Marshalling is not amongst my highest priorities."
"Auch, the sooner the match, the sooner the reward." Tormund winked at Brienne, and she rolled her eyes in disgust, again flushing under his gaze.
Sansa remained unconvinced how genuine that disgust was. There was no denying Tormund was a handsome man. Broad shouldered, strong from his hard life beyond the wall. His wavy hair naturally sat off his face and his bushy beard flamed with red framed his startling blue eyes. His cheekbones were high and defined, and his nose remained straight and unbroken. Sansa suspected his layered clothing of animal skins hid muscles as dense as Sandor, although he did not reach his towering height. He stood just shy of Brienne on that front.
"We could do it now?" Sandor butted in, enjoying seeing Brienne so ill at ease and delighting at putting her on the spot.
"I am ready at any time." Brienne said confidently.
"I am sure you are. That is why I like you." Tormund purred as he flirted.
Brienne rolled her eyes again.
"But one more thing. None of that armour." Tormund said, waving his finger at Brienne. "We fight fair." His eye glinting.
Furrowing her brow, Brienne considered it for a moment, before squeezing her lips together and giving a curt nod.
A shout went up around the great hall and bets were quickly placed. Brienne stood and began cracking her armour open as she walked to the courtyard. Her squire, Podrick, followed steps behind gathering up the pieces. Jamie held her sword, a look of pure bemusement on his face.
Torches were quickly lit around the yard, their flames licking sideways in the cold wind, as the gallery above filled with a rowdy audience. Sandor followed Tormund outside, whispering advice in his ear, squeezing his shoulder, a serious but excited look upon his face.
Sansa was given the best vantage point to score the match. "Spears or daggers?" Sansa asked.
In unison the opponents replied, "Daggers."
Tormund's eyes had widened, "See!" He oozed, "We are destined for each other, so we are! So alike, we speak with one voice."
Brienne ignored him. She was all business. Anyone looking upon her could see she was stepping into a fight. Tormund on the other hand, looked as happy as a child at play, bouncing on his toes in anticipation.
Sansa felt hot breath upon her cheek, as Sandor snuck up behind her to whisper in her ear and wrap his arms around her waist.
"Bloody exciting isn't it?" He said, "Something to amuse me beyond your flesh."
Sansa looked over her shoulder and waved him away. "Step away. I have a job to do. I'll not have you influence me in my decision." She said.
He backed off laughing, his hands raised, palms facing her in surrender. She looked around and saw everything was in place. Making a short speech outlining her intended scoring system, she asked them to stand opposite each other fifteen paces apart and called out, "Commence!"
Brienne immediately squatted slightly and approached her opponent. They spent time moving in circles facing each other ten feet apart, the crowd calling out encouragements, before she struck out at him. Tormund caught her arm and twisting it brought it swiftly up behind her back, smiling and whispering in her ear, his body pressed up behind hers. She stomped without regard to any pain she may cause and landed fully on his foot. Distracted with pain, he released his hold and she spun around to grasp him by the neck, her dagger touching his artery.
"Point to Brienne!" Sansa called out, as the crowd roared in response.
Tormund smiled happily, and she released her grip. The two stepped away from each other, still facing one another, they began their slow circle again. This time Tormund lunged first. He ducked swiftly and powered towards Brienne, hoisting her up on to his shoulder. Had Brienne not been so shocked she could have stabbed him in the back, but instead he spun quickly and threw her on to the ground. She landed heavily on her back, and he wasted no time in mounting her, giving a quick and easy stab held at her neck.
"Point to Tormund!" Sansa called, a thunder of foot stomps answered her.
Tormund did not bounce up from where he lay. Instead he intently gazed into her eyes, smiling at her as she lay beneath him, until Brienne bucked herself free. They rose together. Tormund, clearly still distracted by his brief physical encounter with his amour, was not remotely ready when she launched at him again. Grabbing a fistful of beard, she directed a stab at his gut and Sansa quickly awarded her another point. The crowd again roared in appreciation.
Tormund laughed-off the lost point, until he saw her come at him again, this time she ran at a pace, before dropping to her knee as she neared and sliding in the dirt, stabbing up towards his manhood. He'd jumped up and back like lightning and Sansa awarded no point, but it had been a near thing. Brienne took it as a triumph despite the lack of a point. She remained focussed whilst the crowd laughed at the target of her fury.
Finding her feet quickly, she put distance between them and came at him hard again. Sansa could hear Sandor's voice booming above the noise of the crowd. He did not want to see Brienne win. Brienne was red faced and all anger as she spun past Tormund just out of his reach. She'd intended to get behind him, but he too spun as she flew past and kicked out a leg at her, knocking her to the ground with a thud. He'd been on top of her before she could draw breath. Lying on her front choking on dirt as he grabbed her hair, awkwardly pulling her head up and placing a dagger again at her throat, whilst leaning into her ear and whispering. She was not quick to buck him off, although he'd released her hair, instead taking a moment to rest.
"Two points all!" Sansa called.
The crowd called their champions over top of one another, trying to rally their cause.
Tormund was no longer grinning or treating it as a joke. With one point remaining to declare a winner, he was all determination to win his prize. When she stood he came full tilt at her, pulling her into him, trapping her arms and rolling along the ground together. She'd dropper her dagger as they rolled, and he'd slowly let her arms free. Sansa thought he'd perhaps intended to allow her to retrieve the weapon, but she'd shook her head defeated. There was no honour for Brienne in an assisted win.
He stood first and reached a hand out to her to help her up. It looked as though she would refuse that too, but then she extended her hand up to meet his and allowed him to pull her up. She had clearly meant to turn the pull, into a handshake but he'd pushed her hand aside and clasped her in a bear hug. Her shocked face as awkward as Sandor had been that morning in his embrace.
Sansa looked out to see Sandor almost bounce through the crowd, delighted at Brienne's defeat. Meanwhile Sansa was beckoning a porter and instructing him to ensure the combatants received proper baths. Money changed hands amongst the crowd during rowdy conversations and most seemed to be heading back inside to drink to the victor's honour.
Sandor reached Sansa's side as she made her way to congratulate and commiserate with the fighters.
"Come, little bird – it's time for bed." He hummed in her ear. His blood clearly raised by the spectacle.
"How can you be so gleeful over a fight won against a woman?" She'd asked him as they later made their way to their chambers.
"That's no woman. That's Brienne of fucken' Tarth!" He'd replied scoffing
"She's as good, indeed better, than many men." There was almost admiration in his tone, but it dissipated quickly when he added, "The bitch bit off my ear." He pulled back the lank hair that obscured the burnt side of his head revealing a hole.
"It may have been a disfigured one, but it was at least one more than I now have." He said, clearly miffed and going some way towards explaining his delight at her public defeat.
He'd pushed open the door and greeted Ellyn.
"Did you see the fight girl?" He asked enthusiastically, "Bloody brilliant."
She nodded and explained that a friend had summand her to watch, and she quickly set about removing Sansa's cloak.
When at last Ellyn closed the door behind her, Sansa stood in her shift, Sandor looking at her with eyes so ravenous she almost feared him. He already had his tunic and shirt off, the twitch of his muscles accentuated by the candle light. He came towards her quickly and embraced her, giving her a hot kiss, before lifting her and pushing her hard up against the door, her legs naturally hooking around his waist as he did to hold her position.
She had almost felt in a mood to deny him his pleasure, so unattracted to his delight at Brienne's beating, but with his tongue claiming her mouth and his chest pressed up against her holding her against the wall, her resolve soon failed her. He pushed his knees firmly against the door, one hand holding her body in place, as he leaned his hips back to slacken his laces and release his already burning rod of a cock from his breeches.
Her shift had pooled around her hips and he threatened to tear it from her, so she helpfully reached down and gathered the fabric in her fingers. His fingers found her womanhood first and she gasped into his mouth as he kissed her again.
She was already dripping with desire, and he took no time about exchanging his fingers for his cock. When he thrust inside her it was with a single swift motion. Her back grated up against the door and it reverberated on its hinges. His grunts were loud and their rhythmic clattering against the door obvious in its origins. Between the noise of him, the door, and her own desire she had barely heard a group moving along the passageway. She thrust her hand over his mouth to quieten his grunts, and pulled hard against his shoulder with her other arm to try and still him. They stood motionless their eyes trained on one another listening to the group pass in conversation. She felt a broad smile creep across his lips beneath her palm, and she couldn't help but respond in kind.
She hesitantly removed her hand from his mouth, and he laughed a low rumble.
"Suddenly shy, little bird." He asked.
"No." She replied offended. "There is no need to advertise our activities." She said
"Oh, you think they haven't heard you calling out for more or harder in the past?" Another laugh escaped him, as his hips began a slow rock.
She blushed at the idea, but felt unable to ignore the pleasure at her core. It was burning hotter and needed the heft of his pound.
"Harder." She whispered.
He grinned and shook his head, continuing his slow rock.
"Harder." She spoke more definitely, louder. An instruction, rather than a request.
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided smile whilst shaking his head. His hand tugged at the neck of her shift, exposing a breast and he launched his mouth upon it.
Her moans were undeniable, and a hand reached down to claw at his hip, to try and force it into her at speed and depth. He gave her as she demanded, but not with the force he knew she needed. Ignoring her breast, his face hovered before her own. His lips barely grazing hers as he spoke.
"If you want it, you must ask for it. You must demand it." He teased.
Her breathing was heavy, the air almost choking her as her chest quickly raised and fell in its attempts to fill.
She grabbed at his nipple, and twisted it harshly. "Harder!" She demanded, and he pounded into her, rattling the door loudly again.
It's bang now irrelevant when compared to her need. The noise filled her ears, the vibrations jarring her back and his desperation at his task filled her blood with passion. He came without her, but she didn't mourn the loss, her blood still boiled in her veins and she knew he would not be done with her yet. Once his cock had twitched out its final triumph, he allowed her body to slide down the door. Her legs landing shakily on the ground as his head dropped on to her shoulder, his lungs screamed for air. Her fingers walked up the back of his neck, and tangled in his hair. She pulled it hard making his head tip back.
She stared into his hooded eyes and demanded, "More."
He couldn't hold back the smile despite his exhaustion, and he dropped to his knees. Running his hands up the inside of her smooth legs, his chest still heaved as he looked up to her, his fingers spreading her flesh, he leaned forward and licked her. Her body thrust itself backwards into the door, a loud bang muffling the sound of her squeal as his lick became a slow gentle suck. He drew her flesh into his mouth and at moments allowed his teeth to graze against it. Her breathing became shallow and he pushed two fingers up inside her.
He pulled back his head and he looked up at her again, his fingers maintaining their pressured run within her, pulling against that most pleasurable spot. She was up on her toes, as if trying to escape the stimulation which overwhelmed her.
"I will meet your every wish." He rumbled calmly, before leaning forward to again suck on her flesh and nub, his tongue flicking it firmly whilst his fingers continued to drag.
Her pleasure was building, her lungs screamed for air, grabbing only morsels to see them through. The white heat in her brain was such that she thought she may faint but it struck from her core, that clench of passion gripping his fingers hard, trapping them within her, and in unison her nub exploded in pleasure. Her body stiffened in shock before collapsing forward, her stomach balancing over his head, as her arms groped aimlessly for support, her core gripped and released his fingers in a pulse desperate to find seed within them.
He wriggled beneath her, her body sliding to his shoulder. When her core finally released his hand, he stood and carried her to the bed. Gently placing her upon it, and sliding up alongside her, encasing her in his embrace.
"Was that enough?" He asked, but she knew he knew the answer.
She had no words for him as her body thrummed and his hand slowly smoothed her skin. When her breath came back to her, she turned to face him.
"Is it like that for everyone?" She asked.
"No. I think not." He said, his face showing his contemplation. "I think anyone can be like that, but if you do not find someone to read your body as though it were an important scroll, someone who longs for pleasure in your release it becomes more routine, more a spark of pleasure from a spark of play and not a powerful event."
Her finger found his belly button as she caressed his stomach.
"I want more. Not at this moment, but I want more of that with you." She said.
"Aye, it is like milk-of-the-poppy. The more you have, the more you desire, and you cannot give it up." He said.
"It will kill me to leave you alone when your moonblood flows." He said plainly.
"Hmm." She replied, "I have no doubt of that."