Lord Baelish greeted Sandor and Elder in the great dining hall of the Eyrie; each man astounded by the lavishly prepared table. Everyone but Sansa was already seated and well into their cups before dinner. The evening meal itself was an elegant affair, every detail intended to impress upon Petyr Baelish's guests the vastness of his wealth and they responded with the appropriate enchantment he artfully demanded of them, Sandor noted with derision as he glanced around at the assorted soldiers and prostitutes around him.
Winter rose petals covered the table. Butternut squash soup was served in hollowed out gourds, assorted cheese trays covered with oiled bread, dishes of barley stuffed quails, roasted aurochs in black pepper sauce, garlic mushrooms, fried cornmeal mash, creamed fish, lemoncakes and four kinds of wine and ale were all served at a leisurely pace, extracting the exact amount of praise from Petyr necessitated to stroke his ego.
It was more food than Sandor had seen on one table since serving as Joffrey's body guard; such a feast would feed the entire brotherhood on the Quiet Isle for a day at least and he and Elder Brother exchanged glances, marveling at the waste before them. The entire showy display eroded Sandor's already limited patience and from the look in Elder Brother's eyes he discerned it had a similar disquieting effect upon the holy man.
It was an excruciatingly long meal, which required listening to Littlefinger gloat about his wealth and bait Elder Brother at every opportunity in utter silence, draining Sandor of the last remnants of his self-control toward the insufferable lord. Only the sight of his beloved bride sitting across from him soothed his agitation; looking upon Sansa filled his heart with love for her and a feeling akin to happiness settled over him.
Dressed in a silver trimmed white brocade gown, Sansa looked every bit the blushing bride, her eyes exuding happiness throughout the evening, the very sight of her bringing butterflies to his stomach. Though she deliberately refrained from looking Sandor's direction, she wore a small demure smile on her lips intended only for him, and he took advantage of his placement across from her by unabashedly staring at her throughout the meal behind his hood and cowl.
One glance at her loveliness and Baelish immediately was drawn to her, fawning over her every move and scarcely curbing his ardor, much to the understandable bewilderment of his company. Sandor discovered Elder Brother's words to be true, for his bond with Sansa had exponentially grown in the short time since their wedding, even though as yet they had not consummated the marriage. His desire to protect her threatened to conquer his reason, forcing him to wrestle to control his temper.
Baelish's manhandling of his wife ended when Sandor stunned Petyr by angrily kicked the table, shaking the place settings violently and causing Elder Brother to cough loudly to hide his laughter. Haughtily glaring at him a moment, Petyr turned his attention to his other company, commenting that some of his guests seemed to be not quite house broke; fury rose in Sandor's blood, wishing he could slit the man's throat then and there.
Sansa blushed a charming shade of pink, her smile broadening in response to his outburst but still she abstained from gazing at him, instead asking Elder Brother his opinion of the afterlife, a subject that soon comically quashed the drunken revelry of the other guests. After exhausting the subject Sansa excused herself, declaring a nervous affliction prevented her from further socializing, prompting a low chuckle from her groom, though only Elder Brother was close enough to hear him.
Watching her ascend the stairs, Sandor's heart began to race with excitement; Sansa was everything he had wished for as he recovered on the Quiet Isle and he never expected to make her his wife. Beautiful, sweet and kind Sansa Clegane was now his in the sight of the gods and men. Sandor could not for the life of him understand why the gods had seen fit to give him this second chance and he was determined to do all he can to prove himself deserving of her. Never in all his life had he ever been touched as much as Sansa had over the last day: holding him, running her hands over his scarred flesh, her every kiss and caress, even just the feel of her skin against his own fueled his already powerful desire for her.
Elder Brother's earlier words returned to him now as he watched her small form disappear into the hallway. After they returned from the godswood and Sansa took her leave with Ros, he and Elder Brother conversed shortly with Baelish then proceeded to their own room. Once they had closed the door, the normally reserved gentle man surprised him by his directness. "Sandor, will your wedded night be the first time you have consorted with a maiden?"
Snorting, Sandor muttered under his breath, "Aye, what of it?" Raising his eyebrow, Elder Brother smiled. "Before I became a holy brother I lived a life quite similar to your former existence." Settling back into his chair, he continued. "I believe I told you I loved a maiden very much." Shrugging, Sandor replied, "Yes, you told me that; you never married her though." Clearing his throat, Elder Brother went on. "Yes it is true, I never married her but I treated her as my wife in all respects, Sandor; do we understand each other?"
Grinning, Sandor nodded; he was pleased beyond words to learn Elder Brother once behaved as any other red blooded man. "Well, let me offer a piece of advice; you must treat your bride with patience and care if you want her to share your…enthusiasm for the physical blessings of marriage." Bewildered, Sandor nevertheless longed to be a good husband to her but felt there was never a man more ill equipped to the task than he. Never had he given the women he bought any consideration, physical or otherwise, but Sandor knew he would behave much differently with his beautiful little bird. Softly, after several moments he answered. "Aye, go on then."
Smiling, Elder Brother patted his shoulder. "I only mean you must take your time with her and think of her needs before satisfying your own; if you do so you will see what a happy and spirited woman your wife will blossom into as a result." Laughing low he asked, "Is that what you did with your maiden?" Elder Brother smiled a moment, then his eyes filled with sadness. "Aye, I did; I never told you she ran away with me, left her fortune and standing behind to live with me as husband and wife though we never officially wed. Our time together was cut short; thank the gods with her I knew true love and happiness for an all too brief moment in my life, at least."
Sandor eyed him curiously; he had always feared any happiness he might have with Sansa would abruptly end in some unforeseen manner. "What happened to split the two of you apart, if you don't mind my asking?" Sighing, Elder Brother walked over to the window and looked out into the frozen night. "She was a delicate woman and died in childbed, Sandor; she and our daughter wait for me in the Seven heavens. Heed my words; make sure you and Sansa are safe physically before you start your family. You are a man who spent enough time in houses of ill repute to know of what it is I speak." Nodding, Sandor thanked him and soberly shook his hand and no more was said of the matter.
Once the dishes were cleared, Baelish requested everyone retire to the great hall and excused himself, saying he and Elder Brother needed to converse. Rising to follow, Baelish's page gestured for Sandor to remain seated and Elder Brother politely suggested, "Silent Brother, why don't you take your rest now while I speak with Lord Baelish?" Grunting, Sandor gladly made his way to his rooms, happy for the opportunity to join his little bird at last.
After quickly bathing, Sandor dressed in a simple tunic and pants and carefully brushed his hair over the burned side of his face. Rummaging through his things, he drew out a clean black silk sash embroidered with a yellow panel featuring his sigil; a remnant of his days in King's Landing. Quickly he folded it so the three hounds on the yellow field faced outward; satisfied, he hurriedly tucked it in his robes and made his way to Sansa's room.
As they parted ways before entering the castle she had slipped the only key to her quarters into his hand; after easing it into the lock, he bolted the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. The room was warm and inviting filled with the glow of flickering candlelight and a bright fire roaring in the fireplace.
Asleep in the chaise wearing an intricate ivory lace robe and sleeping gown lays his beautiful bride. Removing his boots and robes, he kneels down beside her, admiring her smooth porcelain skin. Gently he reaches out and strokes the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand; her skin is softer than he remembers and even such an innocent touch stirs him. As much as he wants to take her, he will wait for her to be ready for such affection.
Sandor's embrace awakens her from her nap. Cupping his burned cheek, Sansa smiles coyly at him. "Husband, forgive me; I wanted to properly greet your arrival. I have waited so long for this day my love; it is my dream come true." she sighs, pulling him close to her lips.
His heart sings at her sweet words and Sandor scarcely believes he finally has his beloved all to himself. "Sansa, my beautiful little bird," he murmurs against her mouth, before taking her face in his hands. Lovingly he kisses each side of her cheeks and her temple then ardently claims her mouth once more, feeling her small arms reaching around his neck and back slowly drawing him back onto the chaise with her. His longing heightens with her soft curves pressing against him tightly and all too easily he finds himself carried away.
Hesitatingly she opens her mouth runs her tongue along the inside of his mouth, drawing a low growl from Sandor's throat. Reminding himself to slow down, he eases his hands up her legs, caressing her bare thighs while he kisses her, hearing her to draw in a sharp breath at feeling his hands on an intimate part of her body. Gently pulling back, Sansa stares deep into his eyes and is both startled and aroused by the desperate wistful longing she encounters there. "My love, I have dreamed of you and I together like this, so very many times," she shyly confesses, a pretty blush flooding her cheeks.
Unsure if his young wife is ready to become his in truth or if she is only reflecting his own passion for her, Sandor gazes at her and is happy to discover her eyes reveal a similar amorous yearning. Silently he runs his thumb along her chin and over her lush mouth; her lips parting with desire, she murmurs, "I have awakened with such aching for you." Her words shoot sparks of arousal through Sandor and in the moment he can feel every minute of her hunger for him those long months.
Slowly Sansa runs her fingers through the hair along the neck of his tunic before untying the strings and moving to lift the garment over his head and then removes her robe, leaving no doubt of her willingness. Smiling and staring into his eyes, she tenderly massages his bare chest and back in even strokes, the warm touch of her soft hands sending shivers throughout his body. Sansa unflinchingly looks at him with such unmistakable desire Sandor's heart finally accepts she loves and wants him just as he is; the realization filling him with love for his beautiful bride.
Chuckling at her delicate curiosity, he nibbles on her ear and throat. "I am supposed to undress you, my wanton little bird; but you seem to have beaten me to it." Bashfully giggling she looks away as their shared desire floods her senses. "I…I wish to see you without it my love; I wish to feel your body next to mine," she hoarsely answers, leading him to trail open mouthed kisses further down her neck, the strap of her nightgown slipping off her bare shoulder.
The couple quickly discovers they are able to sense each other's desire in addition to their own, and with each intimate touch and kiss their shared passions dramatically heighten the experience. Overwhelmed by the deep connection, Sansa whispers in his ear, "I…I can feel your desire Sandor in my heart and body both…do you feel mine as well?"
Feeling Sansa's passion in his own body renders him speechless and Sandor finds he can hardly articulate his emotions. "Aye, and it is much more intense than I have ever felt my love," he whispers in return, allowing her gown to fall from her body. Lowering her eyes, Sansa self-consciously blushes deeply under his fiery gaze.
Leisurely Sandor takes in her smooth ivory skin, her lush full breasts tipped in pink, and her sloping curves ending in her woman's place in awe, reverently trailing his large hands over each luscious inch of her, hardly able to believe his beautiful little bird wants this from him, that she is his at last.
In his arms she is so very lovely and supple and yielding; taking pleasure in her with his body as well as his heart ignites his long suppressed lust, his manhood aching painfully with need at the delicious woman lying before him. "My wife, you are even more beautiful than I dreamed," he growls, pulling her against him in a tight embrace.
Breathless, Sansa feels his hardness against her thigh the same as when he held her the day before; moving away slightly this time she reaches down and begins unlacing him. "You wish me to undress you now my husband, I feel it. I have longed to see you thus," she smiles, freeing his manhood and lowering his pants past his thighs, her boldness exciting her husband all the more.
Ever the proper lady, Sandor is amused to find Sansa nevertheless is fascinated by the sight of his arousal. Tentatively tracing her fingers over his swollen member, Sansa subconsciously licks her full lips; the sight of his new wife responding in such a way to his body increases his lust for her. Knowing she has never seen a naked man and is curious, he allows her timid exploration despite his body's powerful reaction, leading him to struggle greatly to control his rapidly increasing need.
Softly wrapping her hands around his member, his sudden surge of desire leaves her breathless; Sansa's lust dampens her thighs as she slowly spreads his wetness over him and continues caressing the supple flesh of his manhood. Delicately placing kisses on his chest and stomach, she hears Sandor moan in response; sensing he wants more Sansa grasps him even harder, the exquisite feeling of her hands on his body begging him to plunge his manhood into her grip.
Overwhelmed with frenzied passion, he is unable to hold back any longer, thrusting himself into her hands and groaning at the sudden rush of pleasure; with his release fast approaching Sandor knows he must calm himself in order to please her first. Quickly stilling her hand with his own, he moves his mouth to her breasts, his tongue eagerly tasting her with a desperate hunger as he slowly moves his fingers between her thighs.
Gasping, Sansa moans in abandon when his fingers deftly massage her woman's place, rubbing her nub in deliciously slow circles; responding to his touch she arches her hips, her arousal fluids soaking his hand as he continues his movements. Slowly dipping two fingers inside of her, her inner muscles tighten around him as he gently presses deeper and feels her maidenhead tearing when he thrusts his fingers in a slow rhythm, his wife moaning and whimpering with every movement.
Her heart racing and her mind reeling with pleasure from his ministrations, Sansa feels herself teetering on the edge of something wonderful she cannot define and within her husband she experiences a potent surge of lust, momentarily robbing her of any sensation except what she receives from his body and touch. Gripping his shoulders tightly, she moans into his mouth, "Oh, Sandor I…I feel so, so…" Pleased with himself, he chuckles low and answers, "You're close to peaking Little Bird I can feel it; just relax and give yourself over to it my love."
Anxious she might have pain losing her maidenhead; Sandor heatedly watches his beloved wife bloom under his touch, her lack of discomfort and obvious excitement only serving to intensify his own brimming desire. Finally he hears his little bird singing the pretty song he wanted from her so long ago under his hands, her fevered response infinitely better than anything he imagined in his heated wine dreams.
Shouting his name, Sansa's muscles grip his fingers tightly, completely succumbing to his touch as her orgasm crashes over her in waves of ecstasy, the intense experience echoing soundly throughout Sandor's body and heart as well, bringing him dangerously near his own release. Tenderly lifting her in his arms, Sandor carries her to the bed, lays her down then resumes trailing his tongue along her body. Sighing contentedly, she tenderly strokes his hair. "Sandor, now let me love you as I have wanted." Rolling him onto his back, his beautiful little bird moves down his body to his scarred thigh and begins tenderly kissing the marred flesh, her hair spilling across waist like a curtain, steadily inching toward his manhood with each kiss.
Panting with anticipation, Sandor realizes Sansa means to taste him; knowing it will be his undoing, he gently stills her movements. "Little Bird, there is nothing I want more but not tonight my love; you are too beautiful, I won't be able to last if you kiss me in such a way." Resting her cheek against his stomach she whispers, "Allow me this, my husband," before licking the head of his member in agonizingly slow circles. Gasping, Sandor rolls over on top of her, pressing himself hard against her woman's place and rubbing his manhood against her slit; feeling her wetness surge over him, he is barely able to restrain himself.
"Sandor, I need you my love: I am ready," she breaths in his ear, shifting her hips to take him inside of her. Needing no further encouragement Sandor ever so slowly guides his manhood into her; the exquisite pleasure the couple feel uniting their bodies transcends the physical. Wrappings her long legs around his waist, Sansa pulls him in even deeper inside of her. Gazing at his lovely wife, he sees her give the slightest wince of pain which quickly gives way to heated passion once more. Sandor increases his movements, making love to her in earnest, reveling in all of his beloved little bird. The feel of his body inside of her, her arms and legs tightly enveloping him, her love and acceptance of him, her devotion and happiness, passion and desire-the entirety of all these sensations completely engulf him, body and soul.
Writhing beneath him, Sansa's body tenses and her inner muscles squeeze his manhood tightly as she bites down on his shoulder, gasping out her second release; the intensity of the sensation sending his body right over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of her, crushing her against him while he struggles to hold back his cries of pleasure. Clinging to each other, the couple finds a healing in the love and mysterious bond they share, basking in the exquisite pleasure of their lovemaking.
Lying snuggled close in his arms, their breathing slowly returns to normal; Sansa smiles against his neck before kissing him tenderly. "Sandor, my love…this was amazing. I will never love anyone as I love you." Sandor's emotions threaten to overwhelm him, feeling his beloved wife in his arms and hearing her express her love for him touches him deep within his heart, satisfying his long suppressed desire to have someone to love and who would love him in return. "As I love you little bird; I will love you to my dying day; and if there is a bloody afterlife I will love you forever there, too." Sated, the couple drifts off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, luxuriating in the comfort and love they have made, determined to enjoy the remaining precious hours together before dawn.