So … this is pretty smut heavy chapter. Yeah. It was hard, actually, to try and keep everyone in character as much as possible. At the end, I totally stole something from the books, which ya'll will probably be able to guess after reading it. Took inspiration from, shall we say.
For once, since the Night King took her, Sansa wasn't cold. She wasn't hungry anymore either. Pyke had provided food, shelter, and warmth.
At great expense to its people.
Sansa glanced at the fire dancing in the hearth with guilt and sorrow. It was her fault all those people had been massacred. The Night King flew from Moat Cailin west to the Iron Islands and made his presence known. Viserion blasted every ship in the harbors and probably killed most of the Ironborn before he landed on a beach and deposited his passengers.
The Night King had led her to the tallest tower of Pyke and then left. To Sansa's amazement, three girls and one old man filed in afterwards, looking brave but shaken.
The old man spoke first. "We don't have much food but the sea provides. Mary here will fetch you bread and ale in the meantime." The one she assumed was Mary ducked her head and ran off.
"Nera, start a fire," he ordered another girl, who immediately began to obey.
"Please, stop," Sansa cried, and everyone paused. "What are you doing?"
The old man stood stiffly, but couldn't meet her eyes for more than a second. "He… he told us to give you food and warmth."
"The Night King?"
"We don't know his name, miss. The one with the dragon." He shuddered a bit at the last part. Even the Ironborn could could feel fear when confronted with the horrifying and unreal.
Sansa turned away. This was why he'd destroyed most of the Ironborn? To feed her? "Did he say where he was going?"
The looks on their faces told her he had not.
"Please, miss, let us get on with it," he asked in a strained voice.
She nodded and went to the window. Was this her life now? Was she to stay in Pyke forever? She'd bowed to him and swore herself to him, in whatever way he wanted. Jon was alive because of that. But how many more would die?
Still, when no one was in the room anymore and the fire was roaring, she went to it and knelt down, warming herself as if she'd never felt heat before. It took an hour for her shaking to cease. Nera brought her ale and bread which she devoured in mere seconds.
"More is coming, miss," Nera said in a small voice.
Sansa looked up at her. "My name is Sansa Stark of Winterfell. You need to get off this island and go somewhere safe."
"We have no ships, Milady. Some of the men swam to shore but the water's too cold. I'll freeze before I make it."
"If he comes back, hide somewhere in this tower. He wants me alive-for some reason-and he won't harm the place where I'm staying."
"Milady, what does he want you for?" Nera asked, her eyes widening in speculation.
Sansa looked deep into the fire. "Nothing good."
The girl left when she didn't say more, and then Sansa was alone except for the occasional delivery of cooked fish and whatever else the servants could find. Finally, she told them she'd had enough and they stopped coming.
With her stomach full and the bone-chilling cold at bay, Sansa stripped off her meager cloak and curled up on the floor in front of the fire to sleep. She didn't think it possible, but she drifted off after only a few minutes of watching the flames.
In her dreams, she saw fire and ice and death. But also life. The lives of those she'd lost to war, the lives of people she'd never even met. That was surely because of her connection to the Night King. They'd all thought the Night King and the White Walkers were just mindless dead things, but she knew better than anyone that wasn't true.
He wasn't dead. Not at all. And now he was her king.
What was she supposed to do? Almost every fiber of her being told her to rebel, not to give into this monster, but there was a part she was too scared to acknowledge that wanted the things he'd shown her. The power. No more death, no more pain, no more fear.
Sansa woke up with a start and looked around. She was still alone and the fire was still burning.
She was safe.
XXXXX
It was days later when he finally came back for her. She'd been going mad, staying in her rooms all day and night. The last thing she wanted to see was everybody's accusing eyes glaring at her. All the destruction her arrival had brought. But being cooped up in Balon Greyjoy's bedchamber wasn't so great either. All she had was time to think about everything that had happened and everything that was happening without her, out there.
It was the screams she heard first and rushed to window to see what was happening. In the distance, Viserion flew closer and closer until he landed on the beach with a loud roar. The Night King descended and then stopped, turning his head to look up at the tower she was staying in.
Right at her.
She jumped back and started pacing. What should she do? What could she do? She'd swore to be his in exchange for Jon's life.
She couldn't trust that he'd keep his word.
But she also couldn't jeopardize her brother's life.
The door opened and he walked through. His gaze looked over her face approvingly.
You are better.
She nodded, swallowing hard. "The people here are kind to me."
He gave a humorless smirk. Of course they are. I made sure of it.
Sansa did something just then that she wasn't sure she'd be capable of. She lurched forward, propelling herself toward the Night King. Imagine he's any other man, she chanted in her mind, stopping close to him.
"Thank you," she whispered, unable to control her voice. One shaky hand raised to his chest. Most of her expected him to punish her for touching him without permission, but when he didn't, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Of course, he wouldn't, she told herself. He's already proven time and again that he wants me to touch him. He wants me to want him … and all that comes with it.
He sneered down at her, raising his own hand to grip her wrist hard. She winced but didn't pull away. Out of nowhere, he yanked her arm causing her to fall against him. She had to grab onto his shoulder to steady herself.
You are mine, he reminded her. In whatever way I want.
She swallowed at the implications.
It is time. I have waited long enough.
Before she could think or become more afraid than she was, he bent his head and claimed her mouth as his own. Barron Stark had felt human. She'd not been able to help but love their encounters. The Night King was nothing like him. He was cold and tasted … not human.
Still…
As his lips moved over hers, alternating between short kisses and long, deep ones, Sansa felt a small frisson of something twist low in her belly. She remembered this. His mouth was foreign, but his movements and actions-his kisses-were all too familiar.
Barron Stark.
There was still something human in him, she realized.
The Night King twisted her around so that her back was toward the fire and broke off the kiss. He watched her without blinking and she found herself immobilized under his inhuman gaze. It was harder to lose herself in her emotions when she was looking at him. There was no escaping his visage.
A hand slowly lifted, cold fingers carefully moving to the laces at the front of her bodice. The dress had been delivered to her this morning at her request. It was a simple grey and blue garment, but clean and warm. The Night King tugged her laces free and it loosened around her.
Sansa shivered, but not from cold. She glanced down and saw the tops of her breasts bared. She wasn't wearing a corset so there was little left to shield her from him. When his hand brushed over one shoulder, the dress trembled on the peaks of her breasts and then fell, briefly pausing to gather at her hips, before it crumpled to the ground.
Belatedly, she realized it hadn't occurred to her to fight him.
He'd never seen her naked before. In her wanton dreams, she'd worn someone else's face, someone else's body. Now she was Sansa. Just Sansa.
His gaze slowly took in every inch of her-her face and the curve of her shoulders, from pale breasts tipped with coral to the thatch of fine red-gold hair at the juncture of long slim legs. He made a noise of approval in the back of his throat and reached for her.
Was she really going to do this? She should fight him, at least a little.
His fingers lightly traced the swell of her breast and she shivered once again. It was a strange sensation, feeling the heat from the fire at her back and his icy touch from the front. Another achy frisson of what she was slowly discovering to be desire swirled through her stomach. It was a foreign feeling to her, at least, when she wasn't dreaming.
His hand traced further down, over her ribs and stomach, to settle between her legs. She gasped and held onto his arm with both hands. Was she trying to make him stop or keep him in place? She didn't know. But he began moving his fingers back and forth, his cold touch against her wet heat causing all sorts of sensations. Her eyes closed. She could feel the muscles of his arm contracting under her hands and she finally dropped them to her sides.
He slipped one finger inside her and drew her close with his free hand. Sansa bit her lip as the squirmy feeling in her stomach intensified. Parts of his armor scraped her now-sensitized flesh and she unconsciously parted her legs to give him better access.
He stroked and rubbed faster until her head fell back and her nails dug into his arm. Her body shuddered its release, his fingers deep inside her, moving until he could feel she was done.
She gasped for air against him, her head now resting upon his shoulder. That had felt amazing, better than any dream or memory.
He smiled above her head.
When she'd regained her senses, he slipped his fingers out and backed away. More was to be done tonight than this simple pleasure. He began removing pieces of his armor, dropping them on the floor as he discarded them one by one. Sansa's eyes never left his body. It both excited and repulsed her.
Seeing him take his shirt off like a normal person was strange and he seemed to like her discomfort. His chest resembled protruding bones, like a shell of ribs over a concave stomach. The skin there was the same as his face and hands, mottled and icy blue.
She stared in horror and fascination.
He walked back over to Sansa and put her hand on his chest, right over his heart. His skin was cold and smooth like marble and she reflexively moved her fingers to touch it, shuddering at the alien feel.
Suddenly, she realized something was missing. "There's no heartbeat."
No. My heart is encased in stone.
She remembered Bran telling her how the Children of the Forest made him. "Can't you take it out?" She dropped her gaze to his chest. "Doesn't it hurt?"
Not anymore. The dragonglass is apart of me now. It will never come out.
The Night King slid a hand over hers and then dipped his head to her mouth, surprising her with a kiss. Sansa closed her eyes and remembered how good it had felt earlier. She wanted that again. Her own lips parted to let him in, tentatively matching his movements. Desire pooled in her lower belly and between her legs, causing her to press against his chest. She couldn't help but shiver at the cold contact against her sensitive flesh.
Bran… a voice in the back of her mind whispered. Was it her conscience?
He pulled her down in front of the fire, onto the rug on the floor. The time for restraint was over. He took her hands and brought them down low, to his hard length still encased in pants, and showed her how he wanted her to touch him.
Sansa slowly rubbed her hands over the bulging material as he deepened the kiss. The ache between her legs was growing and pressing her thighs together was not enough to provide relief. She stopped her movements and found the laces at his breeches. She tugged them free, much like he had done to her dress, and then wrapped her hands around his cock.
It felt different than Ramsey's had. Harder with more ridges. Would it hurt?
Suddenly, a image of the last time she was like this with someone rose to the forefront of her mind. It had hurt then, beyond imagining, and he had been human. Sort of. How much more would it hurt with the Night King?
She drew back, afraid, and the Night King noticed.
Let me show you something, his mind whispered to hers. Something good.
He sat back on his heels and then stretched out in front of the hearth. With two fingers, he beckoned her closer.
Come closer.
When she did, with some hesitation, he took her and pulled her on top of him, so that she was straddling his chest. She gasped at the sudden cold against her inner thighs and the bony protrusions of his ribs. He acted quickly, sliding his arms under her legs and bringing her closer to his face.
Too late, she realized what his intentions were. It wasn't until his tongue was stroking and licking her most secret place that she even knew what was happening. She inhaled sharply, still sensitive from his ministrations before.
She almost came undone after only a few moments. She writhed and moaned until he pulled her backwards.
What do you want?
Her mind was haze of burning desire. She couldn't think straight. She needed something more, something to complete her. The Night King watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth glistening from the evidence of how much she'd enjoyed what he'd just done to her.
I want more. Without realizing it, she had reached out with her mind instead of speaking.
The Night King spurred to action, rising up and taking her hips with both hands to push her down to his cock. Sansa went to her knees, reaching behind her to place it between her legs, where she needed something the most. She did not hesitate and sank down on and around him, burying him deep within her. He thrust up, keeping one hand on her hip and the other pressed against her lower belly, as she slowly moved against him.
Sansa moaned, low and deep, rolling her hips how she liked it the most, shuddering with every spasm that told her she was close to finishing. The Night King, seemingly detached the whole time, now reached out to move her faster and harder on him. She opened her eyes and watched his face tighten, the knowledge that he enjoyed what they were doing as much as she did pushing her over the edge. Her moans and gasps filled the chamber. Her head fell back as he took over, thrusting up inside her hard and fast. His fingers dug into her thighs but she didn't notice in the midst of her own pleasure.
As she slowly came down from the high, a cold feeling pooled inside her lower belly. A rush of ecstasy rolled over her from head to toe, as if an aftershock from orgasm. Whatever it was, she relished the feeling, and, breathing fast and hard, straightened to look at the Night King.
When she opened her eyes, they were a startling, inhuman blue.
His mouth curved slowly.
So, the last part I took from the books, when the Night Commander sleeps with that Other and "gives her his seed and his soul." I've actually had this in mind for awhile now, but I had to build it up to a somewhat believable situation for Sansa to just, ya know, get down on him.
Basically, in this story, Sansa had to come (no pun intended) to the Night King willingly. Giving herself to him is a way to be turned, BUT he could've turned her the other way too. He just didn't really want to. This is what he wanted all along.
Sidenote: NK was busy while he was gone. Tons more additions to his army of the dead.