theladyofwinterfell | morethanbark; clegane keep

Entry tags:

psl,
sandor

morethanbark; clegane keep

( Sansa's life has only become worse since her betrothal with Joffrey has been broken and he's now betrothed to Margaery Tyrell. Now she's just a traitor's get and the target of his worst tempers and she doesn't know how much more she can take. Joffrey has Ser Boros and Ser Meryn beat her almost daily and he threatens to take her as his mistress even as he's betrothed to someone else; he's yet to do it but Sansa lives in fear of it regardless.

Joffrey decides to hold a tournament in celebration of his upcoming wedding and forces the Kingsguard to enter along with everyone else. Sandor Clegane takes the joust, unhorsing his own brother and killing him on the spot. The maester declares it an accident, even if it is suspicious, and Clegane is entitled to any prize he wants. He doesn't name a queen of love and beauty, instead just tossing the flowers vaguely Sansa's way, and Joffrey demands he take his prize. )

Come on, Hound, surely there's something you want. Do you want the Stark girl? Lady Sansa is bruised and beaten but nobody's fucked her yet. You could fuck her as much as you want.

( Sansa colors bright and tries to figure out a way out of this - what is she going to do, truly? She presses her lips together and when she speaks, it sounds older than a girl on the cusp of seventeen. )

Your Grace, forgive me, but Ser Gregor's death means that Ser Sandor is now Lord of Clegane Keep. It'd be a much more worthy prize to award me as wife than a one time prize. He could ruin me over and over.

( Joffrey thinks about it for a long moment and claps his hands. )

It's settled then! Hound, you'll marry Lady Sansa and then we'll have a bedding in front of the Court. That's your prize for the tourney.

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Why are you so hateful to me? I want this and I want to be free, with you, and you're treating me as if it will be the worst thing you've ever done to be married to me. I don't want to doom our marriage before it begins.

( Sansa, to her credit, does not cry but it's a very near thing. She exhales sharply and turns on her heel. )

Be gentle with me tonight and I'm certain I won't be afraid of you in the bed. You could teach me things I might like. Now, if my lord will excuse me, I have to find a dress to wear.

You don't know what you want. You want to be out of here so you tell yourself I'm not that bad an option to get there, like it's a fairy tale.

[ But she's determined to end the conversation there before it gets any worse. Probably not an entirely bad idea if they're to get through the night, so he growls and rolls his eyes and gives her a bow that's more a mockery of the thing than sincere before taking his leave without another word. ]

( Sansa turns away from him and goes to find a dress. So many of hers are too small and too short for her, ill-fitting because she's a traitor now and cannot afford new dresses. She hasn't the time to make one, either, so she ends up borrowing a dress from one of Margaery's ladies in waiting. She hasn't ever dressed in the brief style of the Reach before but Sandor's cloak will be on her before the night's out.

The wedding itself is brief, only the septon and a few witnesses. Sansa exchanges her vows softly and when Sandor sets the cloak on her shoulders, she notes it's his white Kingsguard one because no one could find a Clegane cloak this quickly.

Joffrey wants a bedding and Sansa promises a bloody sheet instead. She assures everyone she's not ridden a horse terribly often and that she'll bleed. It seems to satisfy Cersei and Tywin, at least, even if the King is still petulant.

They've been given a larger room after their marriage, near to the Tower of the Hand, and it's dominated by a large bed. There's a flagon of wine on a small table but Sansa doesn't touch it, instead working on the delicate buttons of her dress. )

I'm not used to these dresses. I borrowed it from Margaery Tyrell and they dress so differently in the Reach. Would you help me, husband?

[ Sandor crosses to the flagon as soon as they're inside, pours himself a more than generous cup and downs the bulk of it before answering. Fills the balance before turning to face his new bride. She's beautiful, the dress flatters her; it's not the bride or the prospect of lying with a woman that sours his mood, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't at least considered the second with Sansa before, albeit only ever in the dark of night in his own rooms.

But not like this. Not under the orders of someone else, when she's only agreeing because she sees no other way out. Not when she was given to him as some kind of prize. Not when she offered herself up to him in exchange for protection like that wasn't some kind of prostitution in itself. So he drains the bulk of the cup again before approaching her, glancing over the row of buttons. ]

It's a lot sunnier in the Reach. Warmer.

[ He huffs but moves to work them open anyway. Pops a few in the process, but then his hands are meant for swinging a sword, not manipulating fancy buttons. ]

You're sure this is what you want.

I'm certain. You can try to be a brute but I'm not afraid of you, ser. You're my husband now and I chose this.

( When the buttons are undone, Sansa slides out of the dress and stands there in her shift for a moment, unsure if she should go further. He's drinking, though, so Sansa puts her hand on his cup of wine before dropping her hands down to the hem of her shift to pull it off. )

Not so much wine. This is an important thing, what happens now, and I want you to remember it.

It's a fuck and a bloody sheet, not some magical ceremony.

[ Not his first two cups of the day either, particularly after they parted ways last, but he'll oblige her for the moment, anyway. She's plenty distracting once the shift's gone, certainly. So instead he moves to start removing his own layers, working the rougher buttons of his coat free then off, looser shirt next, both dropped to the floor without much in the way of ceremony before he moves to the bed to work his boots off. ]

It's there to drink, why shouldn't I take advantage.

You don't have to be cruel to me because you hate him. I want to be a good wife to you. I want to love you and...just try? Please? All I ask is that you try.

( Sansa is already nude so she sits at the edge of the bed, waiting for Sandor to finish with his boots. He's muscled as heavily as she'd imagined he would be, thick cords of muscle dotted with the scars of a warrior. )

[ A frustrated kind of growl lodges in his throat at that; she's far too naive for this, she doesn't know what she's asking. But what's done is done, for better or worse, so he tugs his boots free before undoing his belt and loosening the ties at the front of his trousers, and with the rest discarded he's left just as naked as she. ]

I said I'd protect you and I meant it. Doesn't mean I'll make a good husband, whether or not I try. That's not me being cruel, it's me being honest.

[ He doesn't even bother getting into love. She's too good a person to be saddled with that curse, for him of all people. ]

( Sansa stiffens her spine and holds her head up high. She's determined to have a true marriage and to bear children whether Sandor wants her to or not. Surely he can find something about her that he likes, can't he? She cannot be entirely displeasing. )

Teach me...teach me to please you here in our bedchamber so that you'll be with me here if nowhere else. I don't expect you to change entirely but I want children, Sandor, and I know I have to do this to get them. I want you to come to me and only me for this.

Greedy, for a girl who's never been bedded before.

[ There's nothing for it, clearly, she's hells-bent on seeing it through. Who is he to deny her, at at least he'll get off before he shatters the fairy tale she's told herself. Because he's absolutely certain, even if he tried his hardest, he'd only shatter it anyway. ]

You please me fine just as you are. But if you're that certain this is what you want, then come stand in front of me.

( Sansa stands before him, only trembling a bit from cold and uncertainty. She isn't afraid of him, by any means, but she is worried about this act. It's been described to her violently and he's big enough to be violent. Still, she steels her spine and stands as still as she can. )

Yes, my lord?

[ He reaches forward, eyes meeting hers and holding her gaze, a hand resting on her hip to tug her closer, more gentle than it could be but certainly less so as well. His other hand reaches to trace along her shoulder, down her arm. ]

Are you afraid of me, little bird?

Not you. Just the act.

( That much is very true and Sansa keeps her eyes on his face while she says it, wanting to be brave for him. She wants to do this very much, wants to be a true wife, and she has to get through tonight to do that. )

I only know the bad things about it. I want you to teach me the good things.

You really have never been touched, haven't you.

[ He chuckles, low but at least sincerely amused this time, and leans in to kiss her, rough but at least sincere. ]

Touch where you like then, since it's all yours now anyway.

( Sansa hadn't expected to be given so much choice and so for a moment, she has no idea where to touch him. She skims her fingertips along the scars dotting his chest and abdomen, admiring the strength in the muscles. He'd not be a bad looking man if he hadn't been burned, she thinks, and the more she knows him the less she cares about the burned side.

Sansa's fingertips reach his hips and then she looks down, taking in the length of him. He's bigger than she expected but she's not sure what she expected, never having seen this part of a man before. She draws her fingertips against him, curious, and looks up into his face. )

Am I allowed to touch here?

[ He keeps still under the contact, watching her as she traces her way down, and when she gets to his hips he all but holds his breath, waiting to see what she does. He expects her to pause, to hold off, get shy when faced with the reality, but she doesn't. Instead, she reaches, careful, but it's something.

The question gets a smirk. ]

If there's to be a bedding, someone has to.

( Sansa does get shy then but she wraps her hand around him, wanting to familiarise herself with her new husband. She tips her head up to look at him as she does. )

How should I touch, my lord?

[ Looking down at her, it's certainly a sight he could get used to, at least.

He sucks in a breath as fingers wrap around him, but holds her gaze evenly. ]

It's a cock, girl, not a wild animal, any way'll do long as you're not trying to tear it off. Most work their way up and down.

Well, I've never seen one before so I thought to ask before I hurt you. I didn't want to do anything wrong and you could have some patience with me.

( Sansa wraps her hand around him more firmly, stroking up and down the way he'd suggested. Her tongue comes out to wet her lower lip as she does and she concentrates a bit, trying to coax him to pleasure. )

I haven't forced it in your mouth yet, that's far more patience than most others in this city would give you.

[ A comment that doesn't help, he's fully aware, but it's what comes out and there's no taking it back.

Her movements, unpracticed as they may be, have their effect all the same; flesh responds to the stimulation, breaths roughening slightly. ]

( Sansa frowns a bit and takes her hand away, embarrassed and a little prickled that he doesn't seem to want to do anything to make this be a good experience for either of them. )

Why are you being so cruel? I want to learn and I want to be with you and all you've done is insult me over it.

[ Her hand drops, a frustrated groan following after it as much for the loss of the friction as the words that follow it, but at least he checks whatever sharp words sit on his tongue immediately. He drags in a breath to gain some distance, hazards better chosen ones when he finds them. ]

When have I been anything other than cruel. Did you think a ceremony was going to make me anything other than what I am?

[ Why would she choose him, that's the part he's having trouble getting past. He understands going along because there's no better option, but she seems to want it, past obligation, and that he doesn't understand. ]

No, I didn't, but I thought you might want to lay with me and me enjoy it. Instead, you seem determined to have me hate it. Do you want my mouth, then? Is that what you want?

( Sansa doesn't know how to perform the act he's asking for but she imagines if he wants it, he'll tell her how. )

[ He scowls at that, but her words hit where they're meant to. He sighs, heavy and disgusted, though only with himself. So he shakes his head, words softer this time, if even more careful. ]

I don't want you to hate it.

[ Another beat, hesitating, then: ]

Would you still want this if you hadn't been given away as a prize?

I manipulated them into giving me to you for a reason. I want this and I don’t want to hear anything else about it, all right?

( Sansa draws closer again and puts her hands on his chest. )

Show me what to do.

morethanbark; clegane keep

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