WARNING – THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M FOR A REASON.
Sansa Stark – Part Two
Theon Greyjoy was drunk. Not just a bit tipsy from too much of the strongwine brought specially in from Dorne, but well and truly drunk. Sansa wondered idly if that would cause a problem with the, necessary, coupling expected on their wedding night. She couldn't help the ghost of a smile that crossed her face at the thought.
It was the first genuine smile, no matter how small, she had managed all day. Her wedding day. It certainly was never what she had expected her wedding day to be. None of the typical fanfare she had grown used to in Winterfell, just a simple ill-fitting grey dress and only her younger sister standing by her side.
She took a small sip from her cup as her eyes scanned the room. There was a rowdy dance of sorts going on in the middle of the room, Asha Greyjoy swinging from one of her soldiers to the next, her hair whipping through the air. A few of the other Iron women were also dancing wildly to the bawdy dance. Theon had not asked her to dance.
Truth be told she wasn't sure he was capable of dancing at the moment. His lascivious stare had been fixed on her for the better part of the last hour, and he appeared more annoyed than anything with the wedding "celebration".
Arya was seated to her other side, head resting on her hand not even attempting to hide her own boredom. Unlike Sansa, she was taking gulps from her cup of wine.
Sansa fidgeted, smoothing the skirts of her gown carefully. She hoped Theon would pass out before they called for the bedding ceremony. As a young girl she had thought it was so exciting, now she felt ill at the prospect.
At the very least, she reasoned with herself, Theon wasn't terrible to look at, even if he was a pervert.
She was jarred from her thoughts by the raucous cheer that rose up throughout the Great Hall; they were calling for them to be bedded.
She turned to Arya her face a mask of terror, but her sister had disappeared into the crowd and instead the men that had attended the wedding were surrounding her, leering at her as their hands pried at her clothing. She searched frantically for the familiar face of her brother Robb, or even Jon at this point, someone to protect her from the roaming hands of the ruthless Ironborn men.
"Strip her well," one of the men cried out as his own hand ripped apart the bindings of her bodice.
By the time they pushed her through the door of their bedchamber she was completely undressed and trying hopelessly to cover her body. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud and then they were alone.
Her eyes wandered the room, looking anywhere but at her bridegroom who was standing before her, in an equal state of undress. He was assessing her openly and if the smirk on his face was any indication he was very happy with what his alliance had bought him.
"Are you scared?"
The question shocked her into looking at him. He looked different than she had expected a man to look, having only others descriptions and her own imagination to work from. His body was lean but tight with muscle, and far less hairy than her old friend Jeyne had led her to believe all men were. A thin trail of soft looking downy hair ran from just below to his belly button down his stomach to the tuft of black curls that nestled softly just above his jutting member.
"Yes."
He chuckled lightly, whether at her assessing stare or her reply, she wasn't sure.
"Lay down on the bed."
She did as she was told, giving up her futile efforts at covering herself and instead sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was before her now, leaning over her with a glint of something she didn't quite recognize in his eyes.
"I'm going to kiss you," he announced and then his mouth slanted against hers, stealing any response she might have had and sucking the air from her lungs.
His tongue probed her mouth relentlessly, teasing her own into a dance of sorts before pulling away, a roguish grin playing on his now swollen lips. He leaned in again pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and then whispered in her ear, "I'm going to fuck you so good you will forget how much you hate me little girl."
Her surprised gasp was silenced by another bruising kiss, but this time he took it further pushing her a bit too forcefully onto her back, his own body following her down and pressing against her as he laid on top of her. She was ashamed to admit that the kiss actually felt good and she wasn't nearly as repulsed as she knew she should be by the insistent press of something hard into her thigh.
"Open your legs, Sansa," he spoke with a quiet demanding, his eyes never leaving her own as she did what she was told.
She bit her lip when his hand ghosted over her mound, stroking through the dark curls that had blossomed there. Her blood tasted metallic in her mouth as she tried to train her breathing back to normal.
"Relax Sansa."
He slipped a single digit down her fold, stroking her from top to bottom and back up again, circling the little nub at the top as a wicked grin played on his face. She did her best to hold back a moan, she wouldn't let Theon know she might be enjoying this, even slightly.
A little breathy gasp escaped her lips when he slipped a finger inside of her.
"Gods you're tight."
That was supposed to be good wasn't it? The tone of Theon's voice lead her to believe it was good anyway.
He continued his ministrations as his mouth found purchase on the pulse point of her neck and suckled gently, another hand ghosting over her breasts and tweaking first her left, then her right nipple.
She was just beginning to allow herself to enjoy it when Theon pulled away abruptly, sitting back on his haunches above her. He ran one hand through his short hair as he stared down at her, his eyes unreadable.
Sansa pushed herself up on her elbows, forgetting all about modesty as she questioned him worriedly, "Is something wrong my lord? Did I do something?"
Did he think she was not a maiden? Surely that could not be. But his, his hands had been up there and maybe he had felt something that told him otherwise.
Theon snorted, "I don't much fancy having sex with a dead girl?"
"Excuse me?"
"Quit laying there like you're dead Sansa, it can't be fun for you and it's starting to piss me off."
Sansa frowned, the nerve of him. She didn't want to be here, with him, she didn't want any of this. She was doing what was expected of her, did she have to pretend to enjoy it as well?
And then in a very un-Sansa like manner she leaned up and pressed her hands against his naked chest, shoving him off of her. He rolled over next to her on the bed, just barely avoiding falling off. The shock was evident on his face.
"Do not speak to me like that."
She managed to push herself completely off the bed, standing fully and turning to face him hands on hips, "I am your wife now Theon, you will respect me."
She waited, half expecting Theon to fly into a rage as he was famous for, but it never happened, instead a particularly roguish smirk crossed his face and his eyes twinkled with an unfamiliar glint that almost looked like desire.
"Stop looking at me like that." She hissed.
He stood up in front of her, towering over her petite frame, "Now that's more like it."
"What? I –"
Sansa was effectively silenced by the bruising force of his kiss, his hands twisting in her now loose hair, pulling her closer to his body.
He pulled away for just a moment to whisper laughing in her ear, "I knew you had it in you," and then he was twisting her around back towards the bed, tumbling them onto it rather ungracefully.
Sansa was ashamed to find herself responding to his kiss more than willingly, pressing her own body up into his insistently. She groaned in delight when his hand found its previous position between her legs, drawing maddening patterns on her now wet folds.
Theon broke away from her, pulling back slightly to look at her. He waited until he had her absolute attention before lifting one wet digit up to his mouth and sucking it clean, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the taste. Sansa's mouth hung open, unsure of what to do. It was the single most erotic and disturbing thing she had ever witnessed.
Then before she had time to react he was settling himself between her legs, pushing the blunt head of his member into her, slowly inching in and out until he met her barrier.
"This is going to hurt little girl," he breathed out in a tight voice, leaning down to lock his lips to hers before pushing through.
She writhed in pain, her hands failing miserably at pushing him off of her. He separated their lips, resting his head in the crook of her neck as he breathed heavily.
She shifted experimentally, her eyes dropping of their own volition to where their bodies were conjoined. Shifting her hips again, she noticed how his stomach muscles fluttered.
"I'm going to move now."
And move he did, driving in and out of her slowly at first before he gradually increased the pace. Soon he was slamming into her body, the smacking of flesh filling the air with every punctuation.
"FUCK SANSA!"
There was a burning growing in her belly, an indescribably good feeling that was enveloping her body, as if she was just on the edge of something great. Theon crooned something at her, in a decidedly un-Theon like sweet tone, and then he circled his hips in the most maddening of ways and she saw stars exploding before her eyes. The whole world dropped away as her body shook with the sensation.
She barely registered his body tensing and shaking above hers and then suddenly he was crying out a string of obscenities, his body collapsing onto of her with a shuddering sob.
He stayed there a moment, his weight constricting her already harsh breathing before rolling off of her, laying flat on his back on her right side.
A minute passed, and then another, before Theon reached one hand over, resting it flat on her belly, "Soon I'll have you so full of my seed that tiny belly of yours will be round with our child in no time."
xXx
It was rainy the day after the wedding, the skies completely grey as rain fell like tears. Sansa watched the rain tracking down the windowpane, pooling together at the bottom before disappearing from view.
It almost made her want to cry.
They would be leaving in just a day's time, Robb and Jon and Arya. Gone for the Twins where Robb and Jon would march on with Robb's supporters to take back Winterfell. She worried for her brothers, loathe she was to admit Jon was her brother at times, she could only see blood in their future. But it was Arya she truly worried for.
Her body ached from the exertion and unfamiliarity of the night before, and yet when she thought about it she didn't experience the disgust she had expected. Theon had been good to her, and she was beginning to allow herself to admit, if only privately, that she had enjoyed what had occurred between them. Theon was the definition of a man, she had always known it. Jeyne Poole used to follow him around Winterfell when they were younger, and she had heard more than one woman gushing about his prowess in the bedroom. A strange sort of pride washed over her as she thought about Theon, her husband, hers.
"You missed breakfast, your brother was worried."
She turned from the window, straightening her dress.
"Are you well?"
She nodded, biting her lip.
"Then why did you miss breakfast? Are you hurt? Did last night hurt you?"
He seemed almost worried for her as his eyes swept over her assessingly, looking for any sign of damage or pain.
"Just tired."
He nodded, trying to mask the relief that washed ever so briefly over his face as he stepped closer to her, one hand coming out to rest on her waist.
"Aye, that is what I told your brother. I think you will find being my wife is a very tiring task little girl."
xXx
Theon was called away at lunch, Asha had things to discuss with him, leaving Sansa to her own wits. She had meant to find Arya, she sorely needed to spend time with her sister before there was no more opportunities, but instead found herself pacing outside her brother's chambers.
"Sansa?" Robb questioned as he appeared in the doorway, confusing written all over his face.
She stopped her pacing, hands folding in front of her so that they wouldn't flutter about nervously, "I'm sorry I missed breakfast."
Robb smiled affectionately at her, "There is no need to apologize sister, I am sure yesterday was very tiring for you. Has Theon been well to you?"
She could see it pained her brother to ask her such questions. Even as children Robb had been fiercely protective of his siblings, turning his sister over to his friend had certainly not been easy for him.
"Theon has been exceptionally attentive brother. He came to check on me after you broke fast together. He's with his sister now."
"Leaving you time for your brother then I guess?" Robb teased, offering her his arm.
She took it willingly and the two walked the damp corridors of the Pyke in comfortable silence. She would miss her brother when he was gone.
"Promise you will come back."
She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words had been playing over and over in her head all morning and she barely realized when they slipped out.
Robb's hand covered her own and squeezed lightly, "I won't make promises I can't be sure to keep sister."
"Robb please."
"You will be safe here Sansa, Theon will protect you and I do not believe anyone will cross the waters to pursue you. Bran and Rickon will be under your care while I am gone."
She felt tears prickling at the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill, "Please come back."
"I will try sister."