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Sansa learned of her engagement on a Sunday. She was attending one of her sewing lessons, working on a new dress with a direwolf embroidered on the front, much like the beasts that roam around Winterfell. She smiled at the design and was proud of her work. Sansa had always been talented when it came to sewing. Most of her clothing was something she made on her own now. She even clothed her sister whose sewing ability lacked as ever. Glancing over at Arya, Sansa saw that she was not doing well with her own project. She tried to give Arya an encouraging smile but Arya only rolled her eyes. Septa Mordane snapped at Arya to return to her work, as she always did. Sansa felt guilty at the treatment she received from the Septa but knew there wasn't much she could do about it. She had spoken to her mother but it didn't seem to result in anything.
While the sisters were not close, they no longer bickered as they used to. It was as though they had come to an agreement. They both had grown from children and stopped fighting like them. Everything changed when summer ended and the snow started to fall. The Starks grew closer as a family, mainly because there was a year were Ned was not with them. After Jon Arryn had died, Ned had left his family behind in order to serve as Hand of the King in King's Landing. It was a year of change and royal turmoil but everything came out for the better. Sansa had been removed from the true drama but she felt as though the stories were out of one of the songs she loved so much. However, she learned quickly that not all songs were light and beautiful. Some songs were dark and filled with sorrow.
Ned had originally planned on taking Sansa, Arya and Bran with him to King's Landing but when Bran was pushed from the broken tower, Ned decided against taking any of them because he grew suspicious of the Lannisters and believed them to be involved in the fall the crippled his son. The letter his wife, Catelyn received from the Erie confirmed that Queen Cersei had been involved with the murder of Jon Arryn and he did not want his children in such danger. When Sansa learned that she was not to be going to King's Landing, she had thrown a fit. At the time she had believed herself to be in love with Prince Joffrey and that one day she was to be his queen.
Sansa had been a fool.
Now she was grateful that she never went to King's Landing. What she had learned after the year her father spent away baffled her and at first she didn't believe it. Now she knew better. She listened to the songs Old Nan sang to her and she still believed that they rung true for the most part. Good will triumph over evil but sometimes evil would be disguised as the heroes. Sometimes the heroes are not good at all. She had thought that Joffrey was one of the heroes in her songs but now she knew better. He was nothing more than a villain and had a just end.
Sansa was pulled out of her musings with a knock on the door. Everyone looked up to see Ned enter the chamber where the sewing lesson was taking place. Septa Mordane stood up quickly and stopped her abolishment of Arya. He had his normal gentle smile on his lips but Sansa could see something behind his Lord of Winterfell mask. His eyes were sad and Sansa became concerned. Her father only ever grew depressed when he looked at Bran but Sansa understood why. He felt like he failed Bran but they all felt that same emotion. Sansa had put her trust in the wrong people and her brother ended up being hurt by the people she thought she would spend her life with.
“Septa Mordane, I was hoping to steal away my daughters for a time.” Ned asked but they both knew that it wasn't a question, but a command instead. The Septa wasn't about to refuse the Lord of Winterfell and the man to provided her a home. Arya jumped up quickly before the Septa gave her leave and all but tossed her poor work behind her. Ned chuckled at her excitement and the Septa didn't abolish her, even though her lips were pressed thin. Sansa stood and handed her dress to the Septa with care and a gentle smile. She followed her sister out the door and in the hallway. Ned closed the door behind them and held both of his arms to Sansa and Arya, which they gladly took. They strolled down the hallway for a time before he leaned do to Arya. “I was hoping to have a word with your sister. Robb and Theon are giving Bran and Rickon lesson on shooting bow. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the interruption.”
Arya squealed and kissed Ned on the cheek before taking off. He laughed at her excitement, watching her as she ran off. Sansa never found Arya's desire to act more like a boy than a lady amusing but Ned always had. As she grew older, she learned to accept who Arya was even if her sister was different from herself. She saw the world and people differently. She still believed in the songs but knew that not everything would be a clean and beautiful as those lyrics.
“That was kind of you.” Sansa stated, giving her father a pleasant smile. Arya would have been left alone with the Septa if Ned didn't request both of them. He knew Arya's hatred for sewing and more so for the Septa. He wasn't blind to the Septa's favoritism for Sansa and didn't want Arya to suffer through something if she didn't have to. If he was going to pull Sansa from the lesson, he might as well pull Arya away as well. “What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Walk with me.” Ned led his daughter outside and through the grounds. They passed Arya interrupting their brothers during their training session. Laughter could be heard and it made Sansa smile. Sansa noticed Robb giving her a sad look but didn't leave their siblings. He simply watched as Ned pulled Sansa farther away. Whatever Ned wanted to speak to her about suddenly made her nervous. He wasn't saying a word but there were creases in his face that were only there when he was concerned. “I wanted to speak to you about something important.”
“What is it?” Again, Ned fell silent. It was as though he was trying to find the words but didn't know what to say. His internal struggle was causing Sansa to grow more and more concerned. If it was good news, he would have told her straight away but when it was something far more concerning, Ned never liked giving terrible news; especially when it came to his children. “Father please just tell me. You're making me nervous.”
“I apologize. Forgive me.” Sansa smiled at him, hoping to provide some encouragement. Ned took a deep sigh and stopped walking. He turned to look straight at his daughter, who stood at his exact height and placed his harms on her fur covered shoulders. Sansa, Jon and Robb were his only children to match his height, for the rest of them seemed to be made of Catelyn’s smaller stature. “You are to be married. You had an offer of marriage and I accepted it.”
“Oh. That’s all?” Sansa relaxed and a bubble of excitement filled her stomach. She knew that one day her father or mother would come to her telling her that they had found her a husband. That was what she was meant for and that was her purpose in life. At one point she had thought that she would be queen but now, she was satisfied with being a high lady of a noble house. Ned seemed stunned by Sansa's complete lack of surprise or fear. She giggled at his expression. “After everything that happened when you were Hand of the King and Joffrey being executed, you promised that you would find me a husband who was worthy of me. I’ll be seventeen next year and girls my age are getting married every day. It was to be expected.”
“I did say that didn't I?”
“You did.” Sansa smiled and laughed. Her father laughed with her and the tension eased slightly. While he laughed, she could still see the concern in his eye. She knew that it would be hard for Ned to give away either of his daughter's to a man but it was the society they lived in. Sansa tugged on Ned's arm and dragged him along. “Come, tell me about my betrothed. What is his name?”
“His name is Lord Petyr Baelish.” Sansa's eyes creased in confusion. She didn't recognize the name. While Arya knew the houses far better than she did, Sansa knew the basics of them; such as names, words and sigils. However, the lower houses are ones that she didn't remember. He must belong to one of those. It had never occurred to her that her father would arrange a marriage with a small house. She always expected to be a high lady over one of the Seven Kingdoms.
“I've never heard of the Baelish family before.”
“No. You wouldn't have. It is a rather new house, but a powerful one. Lord Baelish is a powerful man. He sits on the King's council and has a small estate in the Vale and a larger one in the Riverlands.” Ned seemed as though he was reassuring himself rather than his daughter. “He'll be kind to you and you'll be protected. When I was in King's Landing, Lord Baelish helped me greatly. Without him, I might have ended up the one being executed. He has far more power than anyone else realizes. Far more than I do in fact.”
“You mean he helped you dethrone the Queen?” It was possibly one of the most scandalous stories that traveled through the Seven Kingdoms. Ned was still in King’s Landing when his family heard the news. He, with the help of Lord Stannis and apparently this Lord Baelish, discovered that Queen Cersei was unfaithful to King Robert. Her three children were not the King's children but instead her brother's. Ned was able to convince King Robert of the truth and in a rage, the King ordered for Cersei's head along with her children's and the Kingslayer's. They rotted on spikes far longer than any other. Tywin Lannister rebelled and raged war against the throne but was defeated quickly enough. He had the entire Westerlands behind him but King Robert had the other five kingdoms; the Iron Islands refused to provide aide to the King. The war didn't even last a fortnight. His youngest son, the dwarf became Lord of Casterly Rock and the world moved on. King Robert married Margaery Tyrell and she gave him a black haired son a year later and another after that. Ned left King's Landing and Stannis became the new Hand.
“Yes. Without Lord Baelish I am certain that I would be dead by now and you would have been married to Joffrey.” Sansa winced at that. Joffrey had always been kind to her but she heard stories that surfaced of his cruelty and how he liked to toy with people and how he liked to torture animals. Many said it was because he was an incestuous bastard that drove him to such an unholy nature. When Ned returned home, Sansa had cried in his arms, thanking him from preventing such a marriage. It was then that Ned vowed that he would find her a husband that was worthy of her. “I owe him a great deal.”
“But you don't like him.” It wasn't a questions. Sansa could see it written on his face. Ned did not like this man. Even if he did owe a great deal to this Lord Baelish, Ned wouldn't hand over his eldest daughter to him unless it was important. He didn't look at Sansa and it answered her question. “If you don't like him, why am I marrying him?” He didn't answer but Sansa crossed her arms. “Tell me.”
“Because we're in the middle of winter. It's mild now but it will only get worse. A war is coming. One that we are not prepared for.” Ned turned his gaze toward the Wall. It could be seen but only slightly. It was a few days ride from Winterfell but it was so tall that the outline could be seen at a distance. Her bastard brother was now Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and the battles he fought in order to protect the realm from the dead caused chills to run up Sansa’s spine. “Things are coming and it would be best if you were far away from here. Lord Baelish isn't an honorable man. The things he did in order to ensure that Cersei...” Ned paused unable to speak the words aloud. “He did things I would never do; but he will protect you. He'll be kind to you and you will want for nothing.”
“Okay.” Sansa held out her arm and Ned latched onto it. The two of them continued their stroll while Ned told her when the wedding would take place. Lord Baelish, or Petyr as she started to call him in her head, would arrive in three weeks. He had already been traveling from King's Landing for a week but the marriage contract had been in the works for far longer than that. Ned just waited until the last minute to tell Sansa of her impending vows. Sansa couldn't help but feel slightly irritated by that fact.
That night during their evening meal, Ned broke the news to the rest of the Stark children. Sansa looked at Robb and saw that he was not surprised in the slightest. He had known before herself but Sansa wasn't all that astonished. Robb had been shadowing their father for a long while to learn what it takes to be Warden of the North. Robb knew his role and knew that there were things that he would have to do that he didn’t want to. Marrying his sister off was one of those things.
“I hope you and Petyr will get on well. He is very intelligent. You can learn a lot from him.” Catelyn stated with a false welcoming smile. Clearly she had not been inclined to agree with this marriage but Ned overruled her. Sansa was curious as to why her mother would not want Sansa to marry Petyr. Sansa was getting concerned with their reluctance because neither of her parents seemed thrilled with the idea of her marriage.
“Father said he met Lord Baelish in King's Landing. How do you know him?” Sansa asked as she lifted her drink to her lips. She drank deeply from her goblet but never took her eyes off of her mother. Catelyn gave a small smile trying to hide her concern. Sansa never believed that lying was the right thing to do but knew that sometimes her parents would hide things from their children in order to protect them. However, Catelyn was never a good liar and Sansa learned from an early age how to read her mother and know when Catelyn told her a falsehood.
“We grew up together in Riverrun. He was like a younger brother to me.” Sansa had never occurred to wonder how old Petyr was. She had just assumed that he was close to her age but suddenly she felt foolish. This man helped her father and Lord Stannis, of course he would be closer to her parent’s age than hers. She wasn't certain on how she felt about marrying someone older than her. She knew that dashing knights were not all they seemed to be and that everyone grew old but she has assumed she would grow old with him. Could she learn to love her husband despite his age?
“How old is he?” Arya asked, thinking along similar lines. Sansa continued to eat her supper and drink from her goblet, knowing that everyone was looking at her. Despite the stares, her mind was weighing this new information. Did age really matter? If someone had asked the young Sansa from three years prior and the one who thought she was going to marry Joffrey, she would have said yes. But now the world she had known was different. The Queen she had admired turned out be horrid and nearly killed her brother. The new Queen was her age and appeared to be happy with her husband who was her father's age. Perhaps she could learn to love Petyr. It was the rest of her life, she would have to learn.
“Petyr is a few years younger than me. I think he would be about thirty three now.” That made Sansa feel better. She had suddenly pictured a man with wrinkles and grey hair but thirty three was far better than she expected. He was still young. She turned to look at her parents and realized that they themselves were still young, only a few years older than her betrothed. It was a strange revaluation.
“I don't like this.”
“Robb-”
“No Father. I don't.” Robb held their father's gaze, never wavering. Robb held their mother's words dear to heart. Family. Duty. Honor. By the looks of things, Robb felt as though his sister was being sold to the highest bidder because of a war that hasn't even happened yet and one that he didn't even believe in. “Sansa should know who she is marrying. None of this false talk. You told me of this man's reputation and what he did in order to stop Cersei. He isn't a good man. Look at his investments! He owns whorehouses and practically holds all of Seven Kingdom’s gold in the palms of his hand! Not to mention to hold he has over the King! No man should have that much power. Not even the King!”
“I know Robb. Father told me.” Sansa replied and looked at her older brother. She hadn’t been aware of the full extent of Petyr’s power nor the fact that he owned brothels but it actually didn’t faze her as much as she thought it might have. Sansa had a habit of comparing life to songs and every song had a different tune. She knew that in order for happiness, some would have to suffer. Good things happen to those who least expect it. This was her song and it had taken an unexpected turn. “I’ll do my duty and as long as Lord Baelish is kind to me, his dealings have no concern to me.”
“I don't want Sansa to leave.” Young Rickon, who was only six years old, exclaimed with a dejected tone. He looked down at his plate and stabbed his food roughly. Bran whispered to him to behave but he didn’t listen. He didn't like change and Sansa couldn't blame him for that. She reached across the table and took Rickon's hand in hers. She gave him a squeeze and he looked up at her. He had tears in his eyes and it broke Sansa's heart.
“I'll always come back to visit. I promise.” It didn't seem to appease him. “Sometimes we all have to do things that we don't want to. It's a part of life. We all have our roles to play. Robb is destined to be Lord of Winterfell one day. It’s who he is. You and Bran will both find noble paths. Bran has been studying with maester Luwin and I'm certain that you will find something you love. Maybe join the King’s Guard or take the Black to be with Jon. You will have your own path but it’s different for women and girls. We don't get that choice. We're destined to find a husband who will care for us. In return we run his home and care for his needs. That is the part Arya and I are meant to play.” Arya snorted at that and Sansa knew that whomever she married, he would have his hands full. “You know it’s true. Father will find you a husband one day.”
“Over my dead body.” Arya replied with a cheeky smile. Sansa rolled her eyes and let go of Rickon's hand. The rest of the table laughed at Arya’s impertinence. The young boy seemed far more settled than before, clearly thinking about what his role in life would be. It wasn't as easy for second sons as it was for first-born sons but it was better than some roles women had to play. “I won't marry anyone. The business sounds dreadful.” Ned chuckled and the matter was dropped for the time being but it was never far from anyone’s mind.
The next three weeks went quickly. Sansa spent the majority of the time with her mother planning the wedding. It was a simple wedding, nothing too extravagant. When Catelyn sat her daughter down, asking her what exactly she would like for the wedding, she was expecting dreams lavish and out of the songs she loved. However, Sansa wanted something much tamer and simple. It would be elegant and beautiful and with the snow so there was no need for excessive decoration. The hall would be decorated to match the winter outside. She would be married in the Godswood but she wanted a Septon there to say the vows of the Seven. She wanted to be married in front of all the gods, new and old. Petyr had written that the details didn’t concern him. He would be married in any form the bride desired and Sansa could help but feel thankful in that regard.
The wedding planning was not all joyous however. The news of Catelyn's sister, Lysa's death came a week before Sansa was to take her marriage vows. It appeared that Lysa had been depressed for some time, or so the letter Catelyn received had stated. Lysa had flung herself out the moon door in a fit of rage and despondency. She had done so in front of her son, who now was Lord of the Vale. The letter from Lord Royce didn't say why Lysa had killed herself, only that she had. Catelyn had taken the news hard but decided not to ride to the Erie. Instead she would go once Sansa was married. She couldn't imagine missing her daughter's wedding. “The dead can wait” Catelyn had told her.
Sansa wasn’t one who believed in coincidences but the idea of her aunt dying merely days before she was to be married felt like an omen. Between her family’s reactions to the man she was marrying and the happenings on the Wall made Sansa wonder what was coming. She knew that her father wanted her to go south in order to be out of harm’s way. She knew that he was trying to see if Bran and Rickon would be fostered at Riverrun with their Uncle Edmure. He wasn’t ready to find a husband for Arya yet because she was only fourteen but wasn’t exactly sure what his move with her was going to be. Robb would stay of course in order to fight alongside Jon and Theon was hoping to convince his father to send soldiers for the Iron Islands. Another war was coming and Sansa felt relieved that she would not see it. It concerned her but she hoped that her new husband would be willing to provide aid to her family if he had all this power Robb spoke of.
Sansa couldn’t help but feel that Lysa’s death was an bad sign but perhaps one she could turn in her favor? If it saved her family, she was willing to do just about anything. She meant what she told her brother, if Petyr treated her well enough, she would be happy and maybe she would grow to love him like the songs always sung.
The day before the wedding Sansa started to grow nervous for several reason. The first was that she didn’t really understand the idea of marriage. She saw the marriage her parents had and knew that it could be a blissful thing but she also remembered the contempt Queen Cersei had on her face every time she looked at her husband. Sansa knew that she would never go to the lengths that Cersei had in her marriage in order to find an escape but Sansa didn’t want to grow to hate her husband. It was a fear she held close to her heart and only hoped that Petyr proved to be the man she wanted; or at least something close. If he didn’t Sansa told herself that she would have to accept him as he was. She refused to turn into Cersei. If Queen Margaery can be happy with an oaf of a husband such as King Robert, something Sansa would never say aloud, then she can be pleased with Petyr.
Her second concern was for the wedding night. She knew what was to come but it was more of an abstract idea to her. It wasn’t until her mother sat her down and explained what would happen that caused her to fear what occurred in the marriage bed. Catelyn said that the woman could find enjoyment if the man knew what he was doing to her body. Sansa, in the back of her mind, thought about the fact that Petyr owned several brothels in King’s Landing; so he must know what he was doing in the area. She didn’t say such things to her mother because she knew she would be reprimanded. It was topics young ladies do not speak of. Her concern was on the chance that Petyr didn’t know what to do or if he would rough and cause her pain. Catelyn assured her the Petyr wasn’t a violent man and that he would never hurt her but the first time would always be painful and Catelyn wanted Sansa to be prepared for that.
The third concern was that Petyr had not reached the North yet. It was the day before they were to take their vows and no word had been reached that he had made it to the Inn that he would be residing at in Crofter’s Village until they were wed. No one else seemed to be worried because they all knew that travel could be difficult, especially in the middle of winter. There were many reasons as to why Petyr might be delayed on the road and the wedding could easily be pushed back until he arrived. Yet, Sansa was concerned that he changed his mind. She already decided that she wanted this marriage, despite her nerves. She couldn’t help herself, she was curious about Petyr and would be disappointed if he no longer wanted this marriage especially since he was the one who proposed it.
Every time a raven would come to Winterfell, Sansa would hold her breath to see if it was news of Petyr’s arrival. Every time that it was something that didn’t have anything to do with the wedding, Sansa found herself disappointed. It surprised her how excited she was at the prospect of this wedding. She had always imagined she would know whom she was marrying but this seemed to be a different than she imagined. When Catelyn received a raven as Sansa was finishing the hem on the long white dress she was to be married in, it took everything she had not to tear a hole in the dress while her mother silently read the letter.
“Well that’s a relief. Petyr just arrived in the village. There was a delay on the road but nothing serious.” Catelyn handed the letter to Sansa. She snatched it out of her mother's hand and read his words. The letter was short and gave nothing away other than where he was staying. His handwriting was elegant and Sansa thought that it was the most beautiful handwriting she had ever seen. The way the words looped together to great his message was memorizing. She looked at the wax seal that held the scroll together and saw the mockingbird imprint. That must be his sigil and Sansa felt foolish for never asking what it was before. This was who she was to become. She knew that she would always be a direwolf, just like her mother was always a Tully fish but part of Sansa would be able to fly. It was thrilling.
“Is he coming for the evening meal tonight?” Sansa asked. Crofter's Village wasn't too far away. It was possible for Petyr to join them for supper and return to the village in order to rest for the next day. Sansa was nervous to see and speak to this man. The sooner she knew him, she felt that it would calm her nerves. She had imagined him in so many ways that she could; but all she knew of him were his flaws. Certainly the man had some virtues and Sansa wanted to learn them all.
“No. He won't be here until tomorrow. You won't see him till the ceremony.” Catelyn gave her a knowing smile. She had felt the same way during her engagement to Ned. She had known Brandon for most of her life and their engagement became easy. She never loved him but she knew him. Ned was a stranger but did his duty to her. She was far more nervous with the idea of marrying Ned than she was Brandon. “You will have a lifetime to get to know him. Tomorrow is not far off.”
That night Sansa couldn't get that image of the mockingbird out of her head. She didn't get much sleep but when she did, her dreams were filled with that beautiful bird and the songs it sang. The next morning she felt as though she was in a daze. She bathed and dressed in a simple dress for the day knowing that she was going to change into her wedding dress later. People spoke to her but she hardly heard them. Servants rushed about preparing for the ceremony and the feast that was to be held afterwards. She wasn't fully pulled from it until her mother and a few handmaidens were dragging her towards her parents’ chambers in order to pull the braids from her hair that caused it to curl.
“You trusted me once, enough to ask the unthinkable. Your honor prevented you from doing what needed to be done. I, however do not have that disadvantage. Your daughter will be safe with me, at all costs.” Sansa paused at the voice. They were near her father's solar and the door was cracked. The voice was mischievous and cunning. There was a hint of underlining risqué to it. “Or don't you believe me to be a man of my word?” She couldn't hear her father's response but it didn't matter. All she heard was this velvet laugh that echoed through the cracked door.
“Sansa!” She turned to see her mother calling her name. She hurried toward her but continued to look over her shoulder at the door; hoping to catch a glimpse of the man she will be marrying in a few hours. No one emerged from the solar and that laugh haunted her for the next few hours that dragged by. She heard that laugh in her mind as her hair was being prepared; two small braids pinned to the back of her head while the rest of her hair flowed down around her waist. She slipped on her beautiful white gown she had created for the occasion. It was made of a thick white fabric in order to protect her from the cold. The dress was long and molded to her body perfectly. It clung to her body just as her gloves clung to her hands. The dress flared out slightly once it reached her hips. There was a long train in the back of the dress that would trail on the ground. The top of the dress covered her chest but showed the top of her shoulders and neck, which would be covered by the white cloak she would wear during the ceremony.
She allowed the servants to prep her but she didn't see any of them; her focus was on her reflection in the mirror. They fixed a few stray hairs that fell out of place while others pinched her cheeks in order to cause some color to appear there. Servants were also dragging her belongings out of her chambers and moving them to the wedding chamber were she would be spending her wedding night in. Sansa and her new husband would be spending a month in Winterfell before they travel south. Sansa was pleased with these plans because it would allow her some time getting used to married life without being pulled away from her home at the same time and it would allow her to get to know her husband before being on the road; which she knew was going to be difficult.
Her attention was pulled from the rusted mirror she had been gazing in when there was a knock on the door. Sansa's eyes snapped to the door as one of the servants answered it. Jory was on the other end and gave her a sweet smile. He told her that it was time and that her father was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Sansa took one last look in the mirror, gazing at her life as the daughter of Winterfell for the last time. Gathering all her courage, Sansa stood and followed Jory out of her chamber. Her hands were shaking and she had to force her fingers to link together in order to calm herself. She dug her gloved nails into the sleeve of her dress hoping to distract herself.
It wasn't that she wasn't curious; for that is all she had been for the last several weeks. She wanted to know who this man was and wanted to see the face behind that laugh she heard only hours earlier. However, it was just hitting her that this was the rest of her life. She would be bound to this man until one of them died. He would know her body, mind and soul; he would know her in ways that no one else would. She would be exposed to him and Sansa didn't know how to do that. She didn't know how to give herself to someone. The idea was terrifying.
“You're beautiful.” Ned stated with a smile on his lips when Sansa reached the bottom of the stairs. She gave him a small but shy smile, wanting to be his little girl one last time. She wanted to laugh as he picked her up and twirled her around. By the sad look in his eyes, Sansa could see that Ned was thinking along those same lines. He reached toward her face and cupped her cheek. “You're being brave. I know this isn't what you expected nor wanted but it is for the best.”
“I know.” Sansa took his hand and squeezed it. She then pulled him into a tight hug. He held her close and for a moment, she thought she would see her father cry; something that had never happened before. Her father had always been strong and never one to allow his children to see his weakness. When he pulled away, Ned's eyes were dry. “Come. My husband is waiting.”
“He isn't your husband yet.”
“Yet.” With that the two of them linked arms and walked out of Winterfell. It was sunset. The air was brittle and cold but warmer than normal. There was a icy breeze that caused her lungs to turn cold. Her breath could be seen every time she exhaled but the cold didn't bother her. Sansa was never one to love the cold as her siblings had but on her wedding day; the world could freeze over completely and she was certain she wouldn't notice.
When they entered the Godswood, Sansa saw nothing. She had been in the Godswood a hundred times and she knew it by heart. Yet, as her father guided her through the woods, she didn't see a single tree. She didn't see the snow or the orange light the sun created as it sunk down behind the world. All she saw was the crowd of people ahead, wondering which one she was spending her life with. They walked down a makeshift aisle and she saw the Septon at the front of the crowd. The Septon stood alone, with no man beside him.
“Who comes comes before the Gods, old and new, this night?” The Septon asked, clearly unsure of the vows. He was a man of the Seven, not of the Old Gods. It wasn't common for men and women to be married with a mix of both beliefs but Sansa wanted to be married in honor of both of her parents. She enjoyed the stories of the Seven but there was something magical about the Old Gods.
“Sansa of House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true born and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods, both old and new. Who comes to claim her?” And then she heard it, a small crunch of snow. The sound of a boot moving forward. Her head snapped toward her right, her gaze missing her father completely. Her heart hammered as her eyes focused on the shadows that the Weirwood treed caused. The man who stepped forward and out of the shadows was nothing like she imagined.
“Petyr, of House Baelish. Master of Coin of the King's Small Council and Lord of Harrenhal. Who gives her?” His voice washed over her and Sansa wanted to scrutinize him and study every line, crease and hair on this man but her mind couldn't focus. All she saw was the grey-green eyes that were devouring her and the darkness that lingered there. Those eyes were the most divine thing she had ever seen and all she could think was that she had the privilege of gazing into those eyes for all of eternity.
“Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Her father's voice broke the cloud that had engulfed her mind ceased. She was able to focus and see Petyr more clearly. He was shorter than expected but she found that she didn't mind. His hair was black with hints of grey throughout but that made him all the more attractive. He had a well-groomed beard and mustache that complemented the strong features of his face. His lips formed this unholy smirk that sent shivers to her core. His smirk matched the darkness in his eyes and she knew that this man was dangerous. There was a wickedness in him and that he would do the most ungodly things to her. Sansa suddenly realized that she never felt more willing take his hand before. She wanted him.
“Lady Sansa, do you take this man?”
“Yes.” Without looking at the Septon, Sansa replied. “I take this man.” With that Petyr held out his black gloved covered hand. Sansa lets go of her father's arm and took his hand. Even though both had their hands covered, touching him for the first time felt as though she was being set free. Petyr led her willing away from Ned and the life she knew. She felt as though she was ascending into something else; something far bigger than she had been before. Petyr briefly let go of her hand in order to take off his cloak. Sansa saw the elegant mockingbird on the back as Petyr began to drape it across her shoulders. She felt warm as the fur covered her own cloak. Sansa turned to face him and he took her hand once more, giving a gentle squeezed as their fingers linked. Hand in hand they both turned to gaze at the Septon.
“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Let it be known that Houses Stark and Baelish are one heart, one flesh and one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder” The Septon spoke, feeling more comfortable in his role now. He took out a white ribbon and began to wrap it around their untied hands. Sansa's white glove still mingled with Petyr's black one; as though it was the light in the darkness and the ribbon binding the two together. “In the sight of the Gods, both old and new, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look at each other and say the words.”
As they turned, Petyr's free hand took her other hand and placed it on top of the hands that bound them together. They gazed at one another, their contact never breaking. Their words mingled together as they said their vows. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother Maiden, Crone,Stranger. I am hers/his and she/he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.” It surprised Sansa how strong her voice sounded. It didn't waiver and neither did Petyr's. Their tones mingled together and it sounded like harmony to Sansa. Petyr stepped closer to her and placed his hand on her cheek.
“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” She saw him lean in and her eyes fluttered shut. Petyr pressed his lips lightly against hers and Sansa felt whole. It wasn't a passionate kiss and it didn't last long but it was enough to cause a spark. She could feel his hands on the sides of her face and his lips on hers. As though instincts took over, Sansa opened her mouth slightly and Petyr brought the tip of his tongue inside of her mouth. He tasted like mint. Before Sansa could think, he broke the kiss and pulled his lips away but his eyes poured into her again. “You're more beautiful than she ever was.”
Sansa wasn't sure what he had meant but she wanted to be flattered by it. She didn't know who this woman he was speaking of was but she hoped that she was out of his life. The idea of having to share him was not something she was willing to do. The look he gave her made her believe that he desired her and desire could turn into something more she hoped.
Petyr turned, their hands still linked and faced the small crowd. She tried to see them but couldn't focus on their faces. She knew who all was there but they all just blended away. Her mind was shocked that she actually was married. As the two of them passed by everyone and drifted toward Winterfell for the wedding feast, it suddenly hit her that she would be spending the rest of her life with this man and after this night, there was no turning back.
Winterfell was covered in snow and there were ice icicles hanging from the stone castle. It made the frozen air seem just that much colder. Sansa had never been anywhere else and she wondered how warm King's Landing was. The doors to Winterfell were wide open, waiting for them to enter the feast. The wedding crowed was following them into the warmth of the castle. When they reached the entrance hall, Sansa could hear music begin to play. The songs she always loved echoed off the stone walls. This was a proper wedding feast and it was for her. Sansa was a married woman and it baffled her.
Petyr led her up toward the great table. Her father would be in the center, as he always was while Petyr sat on his left and Catelyn on his right. Sansa would sit beside her new husband. Petyr helped her out of her two cloaks and sat them aside. Petyr pulled out the thick and heavy wooden chair for her and Sansa sat down. As she took her seat, Sansa pulled off her gloves and laid them to rest on the side of the table. Petyr took the seat beside her while the rest of the wedding party filed into the dining hall, with laughter and cheers.
Ned took his seat as Lord of Winterfell. He reached for his goblet and took a long drink. Ned was not a drinking man but on certain occasion, Sansa would see her father indulge. Tonight was one of those night because Ned knew what happened to the bride on her wedding night. Sansa felt her cheeks grow red and bright. Out of the corner of her eye, she shyly glanced at her new husband. He wore a satisfied smirk on his lips as though he was pleased with the festivities that commenced before him. His eyes flickered to her and he saw her looking at him. That smirk just grew wider and he pulled off his own gloves. He took the tips of his finger and touched the back of her hand that was resting on the arm of her chair. He started to trace an invisible up and down on the back of her hand. The feel of his bare skin on hers caused her heart to race. She held her breath as the heat rushed between her legs. She shifted in her seat and she heard that laugh again. Petyr seemed amused by her predicament.
“Tell me Sweetling..” Petyr leaned over, his lips just inches from her ear and his hot breath caressed her cheek. “what goes on in that beautiful mind of yours? You can tell me, I don't bite. Well, not unless you ask me too.” He stopped tracing the back of her hand and pushed one of her red curls behind her ear. Sansa turned to look at him and in his eyes she found courage. His eyes grew a shade darker when he saw her mood shift slightly. He was enjoying her.
“Who was she?” Petyr's eyebrows rose in surprise. Clearly he had not thought that her question would be in regards to the comment he made back in the Godswood. It was the slip of tongue and something he had not meant to say but he moment was too strong. Perhaps it was weakness on his part but he was caught unawares by her beauty. Sansa had been known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as one of the most beautiful ladies of the land but he never thought that she would be this beautiful.
“Is that what you want to speak of on our wedding day? Past loves? Perhaps I should ask about the bastard Joffrey, you were promised to him at one time, were you not?” Sansa did not move her gaze away. She held his eyes, refusing to be the first to break. There was something in this moment that would set the stage for their marriage. Suddenly, Sansa did not want to be a wife who hid behind her husband. No, the songs would sing of more than just her beauty she decided. “Stubborn I see. I will enjoy that. Very well then. I grew up in Riverrun with your mother. At one time I had a soft spot for her. Child's love you could say.”
“Is that why you married me then?” Sansa felt a stab of jealousy that she never experienced before. She never felt such envy against her own mother. Her eyes flickered for a second to Catelyn who was scolding Arya and then back to her husband. She knew that they had been friends as children but it never occurred to her that it could have been more. “Because I look like my mother?”
“Oh no. You could have looked like a more lovely version of your father, much like your Aunt Lyanna was and I still would have married you.” Petyr reached over and picked up his goblet. He took a light drink before putting it back down on the table. “ I married you because I wanted the woman who brought Joffrey to his knees by my side.”
“I didn't. Joffrey never-”
“Didn't you?” Petyr leaned in again. “Why do you think your father fought so hard to have the Queen dethroned and executed? For his loyalty to the King? Or his love for Jon Arryn? No, Sweetling. For you and that crippled brother you have. The idea of that monster being in control of his daughter pushed Ned to think of doing unspeakable things.” Petyr kissed the side of her cheek and the feel of his lips on her skin again caused chills to cross her skin.
“I thought he asked you to do those unspeakable things?” This caused him to laugh, hard. A few eyes traveled toward them to see the groom obviously enjoying himself. Sansa felt her lips turn upward in a small smile. She adored hearing that laugh again. She subconsciously decided that it was her duty to make this man laugh as much as possible; even if he was not the knight she had always dreamed off.
“I had thought I heard someone call your name when I was meeting with your father.” He looked at her again as though he was seeing her for the first time. His tongue peaked out and moistened his lips as his eyes trailed over her. Sansa crossed her legs and picked up her goblet, hoping to keep these new and foreign feelings at bay. “Your father had Cersei's head on a spike because he didn't want you tied to Joffrey. He taunted him, Joffrey I mean. He told your father in great detail what he planned to do to you. He was dead within a week.” She had not know such details but she suddenly realized that her father never spoke of Joffrey; Queen Cersei yes but never of Joffrey. “Perhaps it was a father's love or maybe there was something more about you. Your father asked me to do something that no honorable man would think of. Either way his actions were driven his devotion to a woman and it wasn't your mother.”
“Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella...all dead because of me?”
“To protect you.” Sansa looked down at the food that was put on her plate. She realized that she hadn't eaten any of it. Her mind was drifting to those four blonde people whose death she suddenly felt responsible for. Cersei and Joffrey were nothing to her now. She knew now that they were cruel people but Tommen and Myrcella were innocent. Would her father really have them killed in order to keep her safe? “Only someone extraordinary would evoke such devotion and as Robert swung the sword, taking Cersei's head, I knew that I wanted the woman who was the cause of it all by my side.”
“If my father wanted to protect me, why did he allow me to marry you?” It made no sense suddenly to Sansa. If her father was more than willing to compromise his morals and have a a woman and her two innocent children murdered in order to save her from a mad man, why would he promise her to a man he despised? It was clear now that after Joffrey had taunted him about the abuse Sansa would suffer at his hands and Ned did the unthinkable. Why promise her to the man whom he had orchestrate the entire affair?
“Because Sweetling, Winter is here and with it comes all sorts of terrible things.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it; his eyes never leaving hers. Desire surged through her and she didn't understand it. She had never felt such things before she set her eyes upon him. Now he had her in a state of a quivering mess. “I promise that I'll never hurt you. As long as you're my wife, you'll never want for anything an I'll make you as happy as I can.”
The wedding feast continued on after that. The noise increased and Sansa found it hard to converse with her husband. Ned spoke with him in soft tones, as though they were planning something. People kept coming to her in order congratulate her or to give her well wishing. It wasn't until the meat pie was brought out that Sansa had any contact with Petyr at all. He held her hand as the two of the sliced into the pie, allowing it to be served to every member who attended their wedding.
Music played and Sansa saw how more and more men and women became inebriated. Yet, when she turned her attention toward her husband, she saw that he drank far less than the rest. He wasn't drunk in the the slightest and that gave Sansa some relief. He wouldn't lose control with her. However, it was clear that he took delight in toying with those who had far to much. They jested him and taunted him but he was always able to turn the tables on them. It couldn't be hard for they didn't have their wits about them but Sansa could see how intelligent her new husband was.
It wasn't long until a drunken Theon lifted Sansa onto his shoulders, demanding the commencement of the bedding ceremony. She felt hands all over her and parts of her dress began to rip. The men laughed and jeered at her, Sansa never felt so humiliated at such a display. She had seen bedding ceremony in the past and thought that it was a wicked display. In reality it was far more mortifying when she was the bride in question. She looked over and saw Petyr's clothing being torn all the while he made snide comments to the ladies who tried to undressed him. His wicked smile made them laugh higher and Sansa felt that stab of jealousy again.
When they reached the chamber where her and her new husband would be staying for the next month, Sansa wanted to rush inside. The men who carried her put her down but several articles of her clothing were torn but she was still completely covered. She could hear Petyr's laughter echoing down the hallway. One man reached out to tear at her bodice and reveal her chest. When the man touched her, Petyr's hand grabbed his wrist. His lips smiled but his eyes didn't match it, they were cold and unforgiving.
“I think that is my job, don't you?” The man pulled his wrist out of Petyr's hand laughing. The man apparently didn't understand that he had just been threatened and Sansa felt a rush of appreciation and desire. She did not want to show a room full of men her naked body. It hit her suddenly that she would have to at least show Petyr and that this man would see all of her. Petyr opened the wooden door and Sansa went inside quickly. As Petyr closed the door behind him, she could hear the shouts of the drunken men and women who carried them to their bed chamber. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” It wasn't that she was just shaken but the nerves were eating away at her as well. She watched as he was pulled away his now ripped coat. The buttons were hanging from the coat and he shook it off his shoulders. He tossed it on the chest that was pushed up against the wall and sat down onto it. He undid his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. Sansa looked toward the large mirror that leaned against the wall and saw that the sleeves of her dress were torn and that the skirt had a slit that hadn't been there before.
“Do you drink Sansa?” The question caught her off guard and her eyes snapped back toward Petyr. His eyes were devouring her and that smirk was on his lips again. Sansa shook her head in order to answer his question. He seemed pleased. “Good. I want you alert tonight.” With that Petyr stood from the chest that he sat down upon only moments before. He strolled toward her and Sansa could feel her heart hammer in her chest. Petyr stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He met her eyes in the mirror; the smirk ever present on his lips. “I promise that this will be as enjoyable for you as it will be for me.”
Petyr's fingertips slipped down her back towards the laces on her corset. Slowly he began to undo each string and Sansa felt her dress grow looser on her body. He pushed her long red hair over her one shoulder and his lips began to caress her neck. His lips nipped and bit causing a painful but pleasurable pulse against her skin. Soon the corset and bodice was completely undone and Petyr removed his lips from her neck. His hands were pressed against her back and he slowly made his way inside the dress. He pushed the dress forward in order to cause the sleeves to slide down her arms. Sansa reached up and shakily took her arms out of the dress. The bodice fell forward, revealing her chest to be completely naked, the remainder of the dress hung at her hips. Sansa could see the look in his eyes when he admired her body in the mirror.
“Beautiful.” His fingers traced her shoulder blades as he slowly began to circle her. Sansa's eyes never left the mirror until Petyr stood directly in-front of her, blocking her view. She looked into his eyes and saw how intense the green color was. She could feel his breath on her and it caused bumps to appear on her skin. One of his fingers traced the part were the skirt met her skin and it caused her to suck in a breath.
Just like their first kiss after their vows were spoken, Petyr placed one hand on her cheek and leaned in for a kiss. His other hand reached around her middle and rested on the small of her back. He pushed her against him, her breast smashed against his clothed chest. His lips crashed to hers and this kiss was far more passionate than the one they shared in the Godswood. Sansa's arms circled his shoulder's and her fingers found their way into his hair. Their kissed lasted until neither could breathe. When he broke away, Sansa did not release his grip, instead holding him to her.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then watch.” With that, Petyr attacked her neck again and Sansa's eyes reverted back to the mirror. Her body was hidden from view but she would see his clothed back and black hair moving at her shoulder. His hands moved up her chest and gently began to pull at her nipples. They hardened at his touch. His lips sucked on the same spot as before but not for as long. With one last lick, Petyr began to create a trail of kisses along her collar bone.
As his head began to dip lower, Sansa could see her skin begin to appear in the mirror. She didn't dare take her eyes off her reflection. His lips found her breast and he began to suck on her nipples. The wetness was a contrast to his fingers, as were this teeth. He lightly bit her hardened nipple, causing her to cry out in pleasure. He chuckled against her skin before turning his attention to the other breast. In her reflection she could see a red bruise forming on her neck and she wondered if the same mark would be made on her breast.
Once Petyr decided that her breast held enough of his attention, he gave on lingering kiss in the valley between her them before continue with his descent. Lower and lower his lips trailed down her stomach until they reached her skirt. His hands went to her hips and roughly pulled at the fabric, causing the last bit of her dress to fall to her feet. Petyr, who was now kneeling in front of her, helped Sansa step out of the skirt before tossing it aside. He untied the booties she was wearing and she kicked them off of her feet. The stockings that ran up her legs soon followed. Now, Sansa stood completely naked in front of him and he simply kneeled there, admiring her figure. His hands traced over her body from her breast to her hips and down her legs.
She watched his movements in the mirror and occasionally would look down to see the wonder on his face. She felt worshiped. His lingering touches made her feel desired and more beautiful than she ever had before. He was memorized by her body and suddenly Sansa wanted more of him. His gaze flickered up to her as though he wanted to ensure that she was alright. She smiled at him and nodded. Petyr put his lips against her stomach and kissed her all the way down until he reached the red hair that sprouted between her legs. Sansa's brow creased in confusion, uncertain of what he was doing. This was not have children were made.
Suddenly, Sansa felt him move her leg around his shoulder, causing his face to be directly in front of her clit. Sansa tried to move away in surprise but his hands moved up to grip her buttocks, holding her in place. He chuckled at her bewilderment. The vibrations went directly to her core causing her to moan loudly. The sensation caused the one leg she was standing on to buckle and for her to lurch forward but his hands prevented her from falling or moving anywhere. Petyr's nails dug into her skin and Sansa felt his tongue lick the entire length of her slit.
“Petyr!” She screamed out, unable to keep her voice down. She could hear shouts from outside the door as the feast was still going on but Sansa paid the noises no mind. Her focus was on the licking, sucking and biting Petyr was doing down below. She had never heard of such intimacies before. She had always thought that women would lie on their backs, allowing their husbands inside of them but Petyr was not inside her nor was she on her back. Whatever divine pleasure he was causing her, she didn't want it to end. “Please, don't stop.”
He didn't. Petyr continued to lap at her, making the most obscene noises but she hardly noticed for the moans and groans that were emanating from her lips were far more erotic. Her one hand went into his hair, hoping to help guide him in someway, even tough by his expert tongue, it appeared he didn't need it. Her other hand weaved in to her own red locks and her nails dug into her scalp. She had hoped that the sharp pain would contrast the unbearable pleasure.
She moved her gaze from watching him below her to the mirror. She looked at herself and saw the flush red color that covered her skin. Her chest was heaving and her hair that once had been perfect was a mess. She saw Petyr's heading directly at her center at the same moments as he nipped at the small bud between her legs. She cried out his name again. There was a feeling of something building in her lower abdomen that she wasn't familiar with. She attempted to rotate her hips in order to help herself chase that feeling but his grip was too firm to allow her any movement.
When Petyr's tongue curled around the nub again, Sansa cried out and that pressure that was building inside of her burst. Sansa felt a blinding pleasure course through her. She heard herself crying out in unintelligible words. She rode out the waves and shocks coursing through her body. When she felt the pulsing in her body slow, her mind cleared and Petyr's grip loosened. His lips gave her center one last kiss before pulling away. Sansa's leg that he holstered over his shoulder moved back into the standing position and both of her legs felt limp. She thought that her knees would buckle beneath her but Petyr didn't let her fall.
His lips kissed the sides of her hip and Sansa could feel the moisture that was on his beard. He continued kissing her skin, moving from her hips back to her stomach. His tongue would peak out and lick different parts of her. Soon her body was covered with a mixture of her body sweat, his saliva and the wetness from her slit. In the back of her mind, Sansa thought that she should feel dirty and filthy but the idea made her want him back on his knees. Petyr kissed up over her breast and was then standing in front of her. He pressed her body against his clothed chest and his mouth attacked the side of her neck that he didn't mark. Sansa wrapped her arms around him and held him to her.
“What was that?” Sansa asked in a breathless tone.
“That Sweetling, was just the beginning.” Petyr reached down, under her buttocks and lifted her in the air. Sansa squealed and giggled at being lifted off the floor. He held her tightly causing her to have no fear that he would drop her. Her head was above him and Sansa looked down at him causing her hair to fall around them. Feeling brave, Sansa leaned down and met her lips with his. She could taste herself mixed with the natural mint of his lips. They didn't break apart until she felt her legs hit the bed. Petyr sat her down upon the bed. “I feel as though I'm slightly overdressed, don't you?”
Understanding what he wanted her to do, Sansa reached up and pulled the laces on his tunic hoping to cause them to open. However, she was unfamiliar with male clothing that she was having difficulty getting him undressed. She huffed in frustration causing Petyr to chuckle. He began to undo the laces on his own in a far quicker pace than she had been. Soon the tunic hung open Sansa pulled it from his britches. Petyr raised his arms allowing her to pull the tunic over his head. She giggled slightly when his arm got stuck. He laughed with her as he kicked off his boots and socks. Sansa reached out and pulled on the laces of his britches, fumbling again, but was able to undo them enough that allowed her to push them down his hips. Petyr stepped out of them and as he did so, Sansa's eyes went wide.
“How is that going to-”
“Shh.” Petyr placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. She smiled at him even though he could see the nervousness in her eyes. She kissed his finger and he chuckled. His finger then traced her lips before drifting down to her breast. He circled her peaked breast all the while never breaking eyes contact with her. “Don't worry.” He pinched the breast, causing her to squeal, before drifting down her stomach. “I'll fit.” With that he dipped his finger in between her legs. The feeling of him stroking her clit caused her to moan. She laid back on the bed and subconsciously spread her legs for him.
Petyr enjoyed the view that she was spreading before him. He toyed with her while he listened to her gasps and moans. Once he determined that she was wet enough, both from his remaining salvia and her natural arousal, he inserted one finger inside her. Surprised at the intrusion, Sansa's hips bucked upwards. He gave her a naughty chuckle but then began to thrust his finger in and out of her. Soon, he added another and then another until he stretched her enough to make it more comfortable for him to enter her. Petyr withdrew his fingers causing her to huff in frustration.
Petyr crawled up the bed and in between her legs. Sansa spread her legs wider in order to accommodate him. He placed his palms on either side of her head and his lowered himself down until he rested on his elbows. His member brushed against her now sensitive clit causing her to whimper and his face to constrict in pleasure. He moved his hips so his member rub up and down against her, causing her juices to coat him and he let out a muffled groan. Sansa linked one of her hands with his and looked up into his eyes; trusting him.
“It may hurt, but I promise it won't be for long.” Petyr's breathless tone whispered to her. She nodded, giving him permission and he reached down, taking his member in hand. Sansa relaxed under him and felt him being aligned with her entrance. Slowly, Petyr pushed into her and Sansa felt herself being stretched. Soon, she felt him hit her barrier. After a breif pause, he pushed through it causing her to feel a sharp pain. Sansa hissed and closed her eyes. She felt moisture leak through her eyelids and Petyr leaned down and kissed the tears away. “It'll go away. Just breathe.”
Petyr remained as still as he could but Sansa could tell it was hard for him. Not wanting him to suffer, she nodded her head, telling him that it would be okay for him to start moving inside her. He withdrew easily before pushing back in. She watched the man above her features constrict in what could only be considered the most profound moments of ecstasy. As she watched him take his pleasure for her, she began to realize that the pain was ebbing away and be replaced with her own desires. As if on instinct, Sansa lifted her hips and caused Petyr to cry out her name.
“Seven Gods Sansa.” Petyr moaned as she began to move under him. She matched his tempo as best as she could. Despite the fact that she was rather clumsy, Petyr couldn't get over the feel of her around him. His head dipped down and he began sucking on the base of her neck again. Sansa moved her legs so that she circled his waist and was amazed at how the it changed the position he was inside of her. He began hitting new spots that she didn't realize existed. The change caused Petyr's tempo to pick up and soon he was slipping in and out of her at a faster pace.
“Petyr!” The pain she had felt before was gone now and the only thing she could focus on was the pulsing and fulling pleasure she was feeing. She arched off the bed, pressing her breast against his chest. The bed was banging against the wall but it was drowned out by her screams. One of her hands reached behind her and gripped the headboard as Petyr thrusted hard and faster into her. “Harder! Don't stop! Harder!”
Petyr obeyed her commanded and drove harder into her. The slight pain that she felt with the roughness mixing with the pleasure from their coupling caused that blinding raptures that hit her suddenly. Her head rolled back and her back arched farther than it had before. Petyr stilled above her and his face constricted, spilling himself inside her. She could feel the rush of his seed between her legs. After a moment of collecting their breaths, Petyr pulled out of her. Sansa winched because she felt sore between her legs.
He noticed the discomfort and kissed the top of her head but didn't speak. He rolled off of her and moved out of the bed. Sansa couldn't move because her entire body felt limp and she wasn't sure if she would ever move again. She felt the cool breeze of the chamber rush over her and she noticed how hot she felt. She turned her head to see Petyr walking, completely naked, toward the water basin. He dipped a cloth into the bowl and rang out the water. He walked back over to the bed and climbed back on in order to lay down beside her. He took the wet cloth and began to clean up the mess between her legs.
Sansa looked down to watch what he was doing, hissing when he would hit a particularly sore spot. When he pulled the cloth away, she saw that there was a little bit amount of blood on it. She glanced at Petyr but he didn't seemed fazed so she had to assume that it was a normal occurrence. She wondered if it would happen every time but felt too shy to ask. She allowed him to finish cleaning her as he seemed to be enjoying it. It wasn't until he chuckled that Sansa looked at him in question.
“Well, the servants certainly will have something to speak about in the morning. It will be obvious that we were far to excited that we didn't even pull the covers back.” Sansa looked down at the spot between her thighs and saw small drops of blood mingled in with the grey and white fur that covered the bed. In complete embarrassment, Sansa brought her hands to her face in order to eyes from the world. All she could hear was Petyr's laughter and amusement. He pulled her to him and she could feel his chest vibrate. “Don't worry Sweetling, I adore you.”
Petyr had taken her six times that night, twice Sansa igniting it herself. She found herself on all fours as he pounded behind her as well as her riding on top of him. She had never known there to be so many positions for creating a child. When she made such a comment after their fourth session, Petyr promised to show her them all.
When Sansa awoke the next morning, she found that the bed was empty. It took her a moment to remember what had happened the day previously and that she was a married woman. It took a moment longer for her to remember why she was so sore between her legs. She felt herself blush and the heat move over her body. She pulled one of the blankets up over her in hopes that covering herself would make her embarrassment disappear. Once Sansa was able to collect herself, she decided that she needed to at least face her new reality.
Sansa slipped out of the bed and wrapped the blanket around her and moved around the chamber. The dress that she had been married in still laid on the floor. Several articles of Petyr's clothing were tossed around the chamber. Seeing the clothing caused several images of the night before to flash between Sansa eyes and it made her feel ever more mortified. She adverted her eyes and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Her hair was a complete mess and there were several bruises on her body. There was a large purple bruise on both sides of her beck and a few on her breast. They were not exactly painful but noticeable. She knew that what caused them was far from displeasurable but the look of them just seemed awful. In a rush to cover them up, Sansa started rooting through her trucks in order to find a dress with a high enough neck to hide the marks. She heard the door creak open and she jumped only to see her husband closing the door behind him. He held a plate of food in his hand and he was completely dressed.
“Don't worry. No one will see you.” Petyr smirked at her while she still wore wide eyes. He crossed the room and sat the plate of food down upon the same table as a few candles and scrolls lingered. Sansa tugged the blanket tighter around her, hiding her body from sight. Petyr saw the motion and it only caused his sinful grin to grow wider. “Hiding yourself away is pointless. I've seen you spread before me in all sorts of ways. There is nothing that your hiding that I haven't already seen.”
Sansa huffed in frustration and found a new sort of bravery that was not there before. She dropped the blanket that was covering herself and walked toward the plate of food completely naked. She could feel her husband's eyes on her as she strolled past him. Without seeing what she was grabbing, she picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth. Petyr came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her back against him.
“Stop that.” Sansa swatted at his hand and he tried to drift down her stomach toward her center. “I have to get dressed! We're to dine with my family this morning.” She tried to leave his arms but he held her still. She huffed as he laughed and kissed her shoulder. She knew that he was messing with her and it she found it pleasantly irritating. “Petyr!”
“Sweetling. Its almost mid-afternoon. Breakfast was hours ago.”
“What?!”
“Yes. You were sleeping peacefully and knew that I couldn't disturb you. So I dined with your parents and siblings alone.” Her eyes grew wide, knowing exactly what her family must be thinking. She felt mortified. “It was humorous for them all to advert their eyes even when I tried to pull them into conversation.” Something she was certain he did on purpose in order to make them uncomfortable. “I told them that you were exhausted from the wedding” She could see the smirk he worn when he told them. Her entire family would know the real reason for her exhaustion.
“Oh Gods!” Sansa cried out, closing her eyes and leaned forward. She rested her head on his shoulder and balled her fist into the fabric of his coat. Petyr wrapped his arms around and swayed, laughing as he did. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her naked back with his hands.
“Oh Sweetling, I certainly will enjoy being married to you.”