Sansa's (K)Night

**Spoiler alert: contains spoilers through Season 8, Episode 4 of Game of Thrones.

The feast was well underway at Winterfell. The Dornish wine was flowing freely. The living had defeated the dead once and for all. Arya Stark, the heroine of the battle, was off practicing archery. Daenerys Targaryen was standing alone, looking queenly. Jon Snow (aka Aegon Targaryen) was drinking and laughing with the wildlings and the Northmen. Tyrion and Jaime Lannister had convinced Brienne of Tarth to play a drinking game with them. Podrick had been spirited away by a spirited Northern lass.

Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, moved elegantly among the crowd, quietly offering her personal thanks to the soldiers.

"Why are you standing here alone when others are celebrating?" she asked a handsome, obviously shy young man.

He turned quickly and gasped, almost losing his wine cup. "L-L-Lady Stark!" he stuttered, falling awkwardly into a deep bow.

"No need for that, Ser," she reassured him. "This is a feast. I don't stand on ceremony. In fact, I'm still becoming used to being called Lady Stark." She gave him her own shy smile. "I have seen you looking at me. Do I know you?"

"Well, My Lady," he murmured, embarrassed at being caught out, "it was a long time ago, and I was but a boy. I was a squire for one of the Knights of the Vale during your time at the Eyrie." He bowed his head and declared, "I am Roland, of House Falconer."

Sansa recognized him now, though she remembered him as looking younger than her. He was definitely now a man!

"Your face is familiar to me," she said, giving him her trademark half-smile. "But how can that be? You now look older than me."

He quickly dared a look at her, in her heavy grey velvet gown and fur collars, with her long red hair spreading over the animal pelts. "I-I-I-...I believe we are close to the same age. You know, of course, that women mature earlier than men."

Now she graced him with a full smile. "Well, Ser Roland of the Vale, since I find myself unaccompanied, come and sit by the fire with me."

A look of astonishment and panic spread over his face as she turned to walk away, clearly expecting him to follow. He made his way through the laughing, drinking crowd of revelers, following her across the Great Hall.

She had swept her skirts around her as she settled onto a bench before the merrily roaring fire. She had to pat the bench next to her to indicate that he should sit.

He looked around the Hall in confusion before he was able to say, "You truly want me to sit with you?" His voice rose to an amusing squeak at the end of the question.

"Yes!" she insisted, chuckling as she tugged lightly at his leather sleeve.

"But you are the Lady of Winterfell, and I was born of a much lesser house," he whispered.

"I told you we don't stand on ceremony here." She smiled as he gingerly sat on the bench. "We are in the North. I don't remember people behaving much differently at the Eyrie."

"That was because you were a high-born lady, and the niece of Lady Aryn. And of course, Lord Baelish was always looking after you," he said, watching her smile fade. He jumped to his feet and bowed again. "Oh no, My Lady, have I said something to displease you?"

"Lord Baelish turned out not to be a friend," she said crisply. "Now please, sit down."

He wondered whether he should ask the question, but had blurted it out before he could catch it. "Is it true that you put him on trial and your sister, Lady Arya, executed him?" His eyes grew wide, afraid he should not have spoken.

She turned to him with a ghost of a smile. "Yes. Does that make you afraid of me?"

"N-no, My Lady. It puts me in awe of your strength. You may not look much older," he gulped, "but you seem to have gained great power since I last saw you."

Again he noticed her mysterious smile as she quoted to him, "Some are born great. Some attain greatness. And some have greatness thrust upon them."

They were silent for a few moments as each sipped their wine. Then Roland again found the courage to speak.

"I wish to thank you," he said, bowing his head.

"What do you have to thank me for?" she wondered.

"You were very kind to everyone at the Eyrie, not just the high-born. And tonight I have seen you speak with all manner of folk, from the Knights of the Vale to the wildlings. Oh, not that I have any disrespect for the wildlings—they fought valiantly," he rushed to add.

"I suppose my aunt was not very pleasant to much of anyone," she admitted, "even before she tried to kill me."

"So that is true as well?" the young knight asked.

Sansa sighed. "I suppose that experiences such as that have given me some of my strength."

There was another awkward silence as they each sipped more wine. She casually observed him as the firelight played upon his face. Golden brown curls fell to his collar, and his face still had a boyish glow. Not much taller than her, she noticed he was lean but broad of shoulder, much like her late brother Robb.

As she turned back to his face she noticed wide brown eyes and full lips and...a great scar that marred his face, reaching from his ear to his chin. Sansa felt compelled to touch it, softly skimming the side of her finger the length of the scar.

"Did you earn this in battle?" she asked carefully.

"Aye, My Lady. I like to think I earned it protecting you." At her look of surprise, he said, "I rode with the Knights of the Vale to what has been called the Battle of the Bastards. It was my first time in a battle, and one of Lord Bolton's men caught me with his dagger. I was fortunate that my father came to my rescue and killed the man."

He hung his head as he added, barely audibly, "The other knights told me no fine lady would ever look upon me favorably."

She cautiously laid her hand atop his where it rested on the bench. "Then it is I who should be thanking you," she said sincerely. "And also I who admire your courage."

He looked down at her small hand on his, and felt the extreme smoothness of her skin, which sent a shiver through his body. Again there was an uncomfortable silence, until Sansa leaned over to give him the smallest of kisses on the cheek.

He gasped in surprise, unthinkingly pulling his hand away to feel the place where her lips had touched him, right on his scar. He looked up at her to see her soft smile and the twinkle in her green eyes, and couldn't help showing his own smile. She gently took his hand away from his cheek and held it as she rose from the bench. He immediately stood too.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, a little shyly.

Roland didn't even think to ask where she was taking him. He merely held her hand, resolving that he would follow his lady anywhere.

They ascended one large stone staircase, then turned to climb the next. He stopped, stunned, in mid-climb. "Lady Stark, are these your family's private quarters?" he asked nervously.

She stepped back down to the stair he was standing on and answered, "Yes. And I order you to call me Sansa."

"Sansa..." he murmured.

She stood very close to him, raising her hands to his shoulders. "I've rarely heard my name said with such reverence," she whispered, as her hands wrapped behind his head and she placed a fervent kiss on his lips.

He returned her kiss with surprised eagerness. His arms went round her waist, stroking her velvet-clad back as he pulled her closer. They remained in each other's arms when the kiss finally ended.

"Lady...I mean, Sansa," he said with trepidation, "I've never...never been..."

"Never been with a woman?" she whispered in his ear, then felt his small nod. "Good," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "Then I can teach you what pleases me."

The devoted young man murmured, "I would do anything to please you."

"Then come," she answered, as she lightly tugged his hand and again began to climb the stairs.

At the door of her room, she stopped and again peered into his eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

He nodded slowly and replied, "I have never felt so honored."

This time he initiated the kiss, running his hands through her silken mane.

She pulled away just long enough to open the door, lead him inside, and close and bolt the heavy door. The fire was nearly the same size as that in the Great Hall, but in a much smaller space it offered tantalizing warmth.

She shrugged off her furs, setting them on a large trunk at the foot of the bed. This caused him to glance at the bed and again gasp softly in surprise. The room had belonged to her parents. Ned Stark was a large man, and Catelyn a tall woman, so the bed was delightfully large. It was covered in luxuriously embroidered comforters and large animal pelts.

"Now I will begin your lessons," she smiled teasingly, as she began to unbutton his heavy leather outer shirt. When the buttons had been loosed, she stroked her hands up his chest and carefully pushed the shirt off his shoulders. The shirt beneath was soft and cream colored. It unbuttoned only a short way, and then she tugged it out of his trousers, and lifted it over his head.

She smiled as she curled her fingers in the golden brown hair on his chest. Becoming more aroused, and thus bolder, he took her in his arms for another deep, warm kiss. He pulled the soft fabric of her dress against his bare chest, and moaned quietly, letting a hand drift down from her waist to her delectable ass. His cock jumped in his pants, and he pulled her womanly body hard against it.

Now she whimpered as she had to break the delicious kiss to remove her heavy boots. She sat on the trunk to unlace and remove them, standing them before the fire. He took the time to do the same with his.

As they stood, she twirled all of her ginger locks over one shoulder, turning her back so that he could see the lacings on her dress. "Have you done this before?" she asked lightly.

"Only with a man's shirt, but I believe I understand the principle," he chuckled.

He untied the cords at the top and began pulling them slowly out of their grommets. Sansa writhed sensually at his touch. When the gown was open at the back, he leaned in to kiss the back of her neck, guiding the dress over her shoulders and arms and letting it drop to the floor.

She daintily stepped out of it and faced him in only her chemise. This being the North, it was long-sleeved and woven of a heavier, yet still soft fabric. He looked hungrily at her lithesome body showing through the cloth in the bright firelight. Then he bent to the floor and raised the hem until he could pull off the garment over her head. Now she stood before him naked, the slight chill of the room causing her nipples, the size of cherry stones, to pebble under his eyes.

He pulled her into his arms again, feeling the warm skin of her firm, rounded breasts against his chest. He languorously moved his hands all over her back, then around to the front to mold her mounds with his large hands. She gasped as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.

"You seem to have a natural talent," she said breathily, with a naughty smile.

Roland returned a pleased and much wider smile, then tilted his head to take her lips again. She shyly flicked her tongue over his lower lip, and he groaned into her mouth as his tongue ventured in to join hers. They were both moaning their pleasure, as he held her with one hand in her thick hair at the back of her neck, and the other kneading the lush roundness of her butt cheeks.

He felt his erection growing almost painfully hard, and again pulled that part of her against his rough trousers. Now she parted from him for a few minutes to unbutton and drop his trousers to the floor. He shyly moved to cover the rapidly rising member with his hands, but Sansa pulled them away. The way Ramsay had fucked her roughly from behind, she had never had a chance to see a naked man in all his glory. Her excited eyes drank in the sight of his muscled chest and arms and strong legs, not to mention his fine hard cock and the lovely globes of his ass.

Roland stood, afraid to move (and frankly not quite sure what to do next.) She took his hand and led him to the bed, sliding under the covers and pulling him in with her. "Now it's time for you to begin teaching me how to please you," he gently teased.

"You certainly seem up to the job so far," she quipped.

She took his hand and moved it slowly down her side, over her hip and all the way down her leg, as she did the same to him.

"I'd be lying if I told you this was the way this usually happens," she confessed. "Most men are in a much greater hurry to get under a woman's skirts, and most women accept that. But since you are just learning," she grinned, "I think it's important to have more skin contact. Believe me when I say that any woman you lay with in the future will appreciate this skill."

"After tonight," he breathed, "I can't imagine I will ever want to lay with any other woman."

This gave Sansa pause, as she was thinking of this as a one-time encounter. But after all the physical abuse she had endured, she reveled at his delicate and caring treatment, and realized she was feeling a tug at her heart as well as her genitals.

They lay side-by-side, caressing, exploring, and kissing for long moments. As Roland's breathing began to speed up, and she could feel the hardness of his cock against her thigh, she decided it was time for their lesson to proceed to the next step. She took his hand and guided it between her legs so that he could feel her slippery wetness.

"This is how you know a woman is ready for you," she tenderly lectured, then gasped as his fingers explored beyond her outer lips and gently stroked the petals inside. This was something Sansa had never experienced, and her smile grew wide as she said, "I thought you'd never done this before."

Roland returned her smile with a cheeky one of his own. "Just because I have never bedded a lady before, doesn't mean I haven't had a chance to explore one." To emphasize this, he slowly removed his hand from her nether region and made a show of licking her honey from his fingers.

She watched, mesmerized, then pulled him to her for another deep kiss, surprised at her own taste on his tongue. She felt his hardness knocking at her door, so she took it firmly in her hand, and showed him where to slide it into her needy pussy. She had not wanted sex since Ramsay had brutalized her, so she was tight, and they both gasped, then moaned.

He rested carefully on top of her as he experimentally pulled out and thrust back in, leaving them both panting and laughing a little. "That's how you do it, right?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Mmmm..." she moaned. "That's exactly how you do it."

Sansa wiggled under him to achieve the best angle of contact, as he began to thrust in and out with firm, even strokes. He held himself up with one hand so that he could use the other to caress her comely breasts and nipples, one at a time. Then he stretched out on her quivering body so that he could rest his head in the curve of her neck and shoulder.

"Is this pleasing to you, My Lady?" he whispered into her ear, his breath quick and ragged.

"Ohhh, Roland," was all she could reply, shivering at his breath on her ear and breathing heavily herself.

She was moaning at a slightly higher pitch, and could hear and feel a rumbling deep in his chest. She began to rise to meet his thrusts, and felt a strange pressure building in her belly and loins. As he pumped into her harder and faster, she was suddenly overcome with an explosion of sensation, which seemed to rise from her toes to the pleasure centers of her brain.

Sansa cried out in surprise and delight. Roland had only a moment to wonder if he had hurt her before he was caught by his own explosion of sensation and emotion. He thought for a moment that he would burst into tears, as the feeling was so intense. He growled unwittingly as he felt his prick begin to spurt his seed into her palpitating pussy.

He held himself deep inside her as they both worked to catch their breath. "Did I hurt you?" he panted, fretting.

Sansa just laughed. "You made me feel something exquisite that I've never felt before. I've heard women whisper about this moment, but I've never experienced it. It's...it's...simply too good for words."

"I can agree with that," Roland chuckled, as he rolled to his back with her on top of him, his cock still seated firmly in her welcoming core. "Of course, most boys learn early how to pleasure themselves, but the experience when you are inside a beautiful woman is infinitely better." He smiled and carefully pulled her in for a kiss. He wanted to remain inside her for as long as possible.

As Sansa's breathing began to even out, she rested her head on his chest drowsily. He reached to pull the blankets and furs over them, and held her dearly in his arms. Still connected in the most intimate of ways, they both drifted into a wonderful land of sleep.