Chapter Text
“I have so much to learn,” Sansa breathed, staring up at Cersei with wide blue eyes so full of hope and youthful naivete that it was nearly enough to make the queen vomit.
“Of course, that could be this piss they call wine,” the beautiful blonde thought to herself.
On their trip to the North, the wagon carrying her personal supply of wine had tipped over, spilling the precious Arbor gold and Arbor red everywhere, something that not nearly enough people had been executed over, as far as she was concerned. Her drunken whoremonger of a husband had been content to drink the local fare, but Cersei could not abide beer and had had to contend with Catelyn’s wine, which was simply dreadful. It had made an annoying trip almost unbearable, something made even worse by the fact that Jaime hadn’t been able to come with them.
“So he sprained an ankle, big deal,” she thought to herself bitterly. “He could have ridden in the carriage with me and then let me take care of him here. Now we’re both lonely and miserable.”
“Do you think it likely that Joffrey might crown me the Queen of Love and Beauty if he wins the tourney the king was talking about?” Sansa asked. “He seems ever so strong and, being related to Ser Jaime…”
“What did you say?” Cersei hissed, and the redhead flinched.
“I...I just...Ser Jaime is such a famous knight, and with him being Prince Joffrey’s uncle…” Sansa went to say.
“Is something wrong?” Catelyn asked, leaning in closely.
“No, nothing,” Cersei replied. “I’m sorry for snapping, Sansa; I just fear I’ve developed a bit of a headache.”
“I can understand that,” Catelyn murmured, her eyes flicking over to Robert, who was still drunkenly pawing at every serving girl who passed by. “Perhaps Sansa here could show you to your chambers, my queen. The tranquil quiet of the bedchamber might help alleviate your headache or part you from the source of it, at least. The great hall here can get so very loud during feasts.”
“I’d be happy to,” Sansa beamed, and Cersei barely resisted the urge to groan.
On the one hand, getting out of there sounded absolutely fabulous just then, as she was always happy to get away from her idiot husband, but the prospect of having to put up with more inane questions from the annoying girl who had chatted her ear off through the entire evening was less pleasant. She could have said no outright, and given her mood, being that much of a bitch was tempting, but she knew Robert would find out and she really didn’t want to have to deal with him.
“I’ve had more of that wine brought up to your chambers, since you seemed to like it so much,” Catelyn added with a smile, and Cersei eyed her for a moment, trying to see if she was attempting to be insulting, before deciding that she was actually being genuine. Of course, that only annoyed her more.
“Very well,” Cersei nodded. “Thank you, Sansa.”
“Oh, it’s an honor, really,” the redhead beamed, and Cersei barely fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“Gods, between the Tully bitch actually thinking I liked this swill and this silly twit, I don’t know which one I dislike more,” she thought to herself, trying desperately to tune out Sansa as she started blathering on about how much she was looking forward to finally seeing the south. “My precious Joffrey shouldn’t have to tie himself to this fool or this family of savages. What right does Robert have to force him; he’s not even his?”
She scowled at that, though, knowing it was patently ridiculous, yet she couldn’t help but be infuriated by the fact that her drunkard of a husband was going to tie her son to the Starks and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Of course it was always going to be a Stark bride,” she thought to herself, clenching his fist so hard her nails threatened to prick her perfect skin. “He might claim it’s because of Ned, but we know the truth. He couldn’t have his precious Lyanna, and so Joffrey has to suffer taking this blithering idiot as a wife. What in the seven hells was it about that wretched she-wolf that so entranced him and Rhaegar anyway? From what I remember, she was a plain thing, nowhere near as beautiful as I am. At least Sansa doesn’t look like her, though that’s just about the only good thing I can say about the girl.”
“My queen?” Sansa asked, snapping her out of her reverie.
“What?” Cersei asked.
“I...I asked if you might be willing to give me advice on how to be the sort of woman the prince would like as a wife,” Sansa replied timidly. “I’ve heard so many wonderful stories about the South, and I’ve spoken at length with my mother and my septa about what would be required of me, but I’ve lived all my life in the North, and I know that things are so different down there, and I just hoped that maybe, as not just the queen or his mother, but as a beautiful southron noblewoman, you might be able to share a perspective that they can’t.”
As Sansa looked up at her, her eyes pleading, desperately, and laughably innocent, a wicked idea popped into Cersei’s head. If she’d had Jaime around to take the edge off, or been able to enjoy a decent drink for the past week, or simply not had quite as much of Catelyn’s horrid wine to drink that night, she’d have probably thought better of it, but instead, in that moment, it seemed like the greatest idea she’d ever had.
“Sweetling,” she grinned, cupping the girl’s cheek, “why don’t you come in, and I can tell you a few things that your mother and your septa won’t have?”
“Alright,” Sansa breathed, sounding hilariously excited.
The pair of guards at her door didn’t even look at her, knowing better. They were good men, Lannister men, and they’d both say whatever she told them to down the line if she needed to order them to say anything at all. Letting herself into her chambers, Cersei gestured for Sansa to follow and shut the door behind them.
“What exactly have your mother and septa told you about the duties of a wife?” she asked, and the redhead’s jaw dropped, her face reddening instantly.
“My...my wifely duties are a thing that I...I will be required to endure,” Sansa stammered, staring down at the floor.
“Yes, go on,” Cersei grinned, sitting down and pouring herself another cup of wine.
“Joff...my husband will come into my bedchambers when the mood takes him and attempt to...put a child in me,” Sansa stammered, her face redder than her hair by then.
“Have they explained the process?” Cersei asked, thoroughly enjoying the girl’s mortification.
“P...process?” Sansa squeaked, and the blonde laughed.
“Gods, girl, come, sit down,” she said, pouring a second cup.
“I’ve had all that my mother permits to drink tonight,” Sansa protested.
“Your mother isn’t here right now, and you clearly need more,” Cersei muttered, placing the cup in her hand. “Drink.”
“Alright,” Sansa nodded, taking a big gulp of wine and shivering as it ticked something in the back of her throat.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Sansa, one that my mother may well have shared with me had she lived longer,” Cersei said, her eyes dimming as she thought of how her dwarf brother had murdered her beloved mother.
“I’m so sorry, my queen,” Sansa said.
“Be silent and listen,” Cersei said sharply, and the redhead snapped her mouth shut. “There are two things above all else that men value in women. The first is discretion and the second in skill in the bedroom.”
“What?” Sansa asked. “What skill is even required? You get on your hands and knees and just let him do what he must.”
“Well, yes, if you want him to spend all his nights with whores, that’s all you do,” Cersei replied, and Sansa stared at her in horrified shock. “There are some women out there who don’t mind that sort of dishonor if it spares them their husbands’ attentions, but I just thought you…”
“I don’t want him seeing whores!” Sansa exclaimed. “Why would he, though? He seems ever so gallant and honorable.”
“My son is a good young man, but he is a man,” Cersei replied. “You’ve seen what his father is like.”
“I...is that why the king...is the way he is?” Sansa asked. “Did you never seek to learn these skills?”
Cersei barely managed to keep the shock off of her face and quelled the desire to slap the silly twit.
“I did eventually, but by then it was too late,” she sighed. “Robert had already seen how little skill I had and lost all interest immediately.”
“So how do I prove to Joffrey that I have these skills if I don’t?” Sansa asked.
“By gaining them,” Cersei replied simply.
“Are you saying I should sneak into his bed?” Sansa asked, completely confused.
“Gods, no,” Cersei muttered. “If you do that, all you’ll do is expose that you don’t have any skill before he’s even wed you, and then he won’t want to at all. Men are very simple, darling, and they tend to take from the first impression you make everything that they assume about you. If you want to gain these skills, you’ll need to find someone else to practice with.”
Sansa would have shouted her question in reponse to that, but she was so shocked that all that came out was a squeak.
“But that would make me a whore!” she hissed. “He’d never want me to be his queen then.”
“That’s where discretion comes in,” Cersei replied. “Men don’t want to wed whores because they don’t want to wed women that they know for a fact other men have been with, but they do want wives who thrill them in the bedchambers. To be such a woman, you need to do what you have to to develop the skills that will impress my son without ever letting anyone find out what you did. It’s more common than you think.”
“But Mother and Septa Mordane have always told me the opposite,” Sansa argued. “They say a woman’s virtue is her greatest asset, to be guarded like all the gold in Casterly Rock.”
“Of course they’d say that,” Cersei replied. “Septa Mordane has never had a husband, and your mother, while a southerner, has spent so long in the North that...I get the sense she’d become rather like the rest of you. You strike me as far more of a southern lady.”
“Really?” Sansa asked.
“It’s also possible that your grandmother never had this conversation with your mother, as my mother never did with me,” Cersei replied.
“My grandmother died a few years before Robb was born, so maybe that’s true,” Sansa breathed.
“That explains the bastard,” Cersei said, and Sansa glared at her for a moment before remembering herself. “I don’t mean to insult you or your mother, but the existence of that boy does suggest that she ended up in the same situation that I did, where she didn’t learn how to keep her husband from straying until it was too late.”
“But Father doesn’t act like the king,” Sansa argued. “Jon is his one mistake.”
“Things might be a little different in the North,” Cersei shrugged. “In the South, it’s all too common for women to learn about how to please their husbands before they wed; it’s just kept a secret so we don’t bruise any fragile male egos.”
“So everyone does it but no one talks about it?” Sansa surmised.
“Not everyone but a lot,” Cersei replied. “The key thing is keeping quiet. This isn’t the sort of thing you tell your friends about or your septas, or even your mother, if she never brings the subject up with you.”
“Who would I even pick though?” Sansa asked.
“You could pick anyone, really,” Cersei replied. “You’re a beautiful young girl, and pretty much any man would be happy to have you.”
“But what if they said something?” Sansa fretted, standing up and downing the rest of her wine. “I’d be ruined.”
“Sansa, you’re a girl of noble birth,” Cersei chuckled. “Most men aren’t supposed to look at you, much less touch you, and if any of them said something, you could say they raped you and they’d be gelded and sent to the Wall.”
“But I’d still be ruined,” Sansa said.
“But they’d get their cocks cut off and they all know it,” Cersei countered. “None of them will say anything because they’re all very, very attached to them.”
“I can’t believe I never knew any of this,” Sansa breathed, setting down her cup. “The southron kingdoms really are a whole other world.”
“Indeed they are,” Cersei replied. “No one there would be stupid enough to buy any of that horseshit.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Sansa nodded. “Thank you, your Grace.”
“I think you’ll make a fine queen someday,” Cersei smiled. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, my queen,” Sansa beamed before turning and padding out of the room.
“Sometimes my brilliance is almost frightening,” Cersei thought to herself, pouring another glass of wine and sitting back in her chair. “She didn’t even think to ask about how to avoid getting with child, the silly thing. She’ll ruin herself with some stableboy or guard; I’ll deny ever telling her any such thing, and then I’ll be able to spread word of the incident around the capital. By the time the scandal has spread, there will be no way that even Robert would be stubborn and stupid enough to try to wed Joffrey off to that younger Stark girl, while Sansa will have been sent to a motherhouse. I will never understand why Father fails to realize that I alone among his children inherited his mind for strategy. My cunt, most like.”
She scowled at that and shook her head, already eagerly awaiting the results of what she’d just done.
*****
“Who in the world could I choose?” Sansa thought to herself a couple days later, still struggling with the idea that the queen had given her.
“Sansa, are you feeling alright?” Catelyn asked. “You’ve barely eaten this morning.”
“I fine, Mother,” Sansa replied. “Just...thinking.”
“It’s alright to be nervous,” Catelyn whispered. “It’s perfectly normal, even; I know I was nervous about coming here, after all. Of course, in my case, things were rather different as well, as my original betrothed had been murdered and I was still dealing with that. There were then, of course, certain other surprises I learned of.”
Catelyn glared venomously at Jon, who was sitting down with the servants as he always did, as she said that last part, and Sansa sighed.
“Jon is exactly the kind of surprise that I’m hoping to avoid,” she thought to herself.
The queen’s advice was still weighing heavily on her as she tried to figure out how to make use of it, and seeing her bastard half-brother around the keep still wasn’t helping. He was set to leave for the Wall soon, she knew, around the same time that she’d be going south with their father, and his presence was starting to truly irk her for the reminder of what he was.
“If I don’t want to end up with Joffrey making his own little Jon, I’m going to need to figure out how to hold his attention, but with who?” Sansa asked herself mentally, looking over at the bastard.
He had her father’s coloring, the only one other than Arya who did so, and was growing rather tall and broad as he developed. Jeyne had admitted once, after having a little more to drink than they were allowed to, that he’d become handsome, something that she’d chastised her for at the time, but as she looked at him now, she had to admit that her friend wasn’t wrong.
“Bastards are creatures born of lust. Septa Mordane has said that more than once, and that it means they are themselves more prone to sin than normal men and women,” Sansa thought to herself, feeling her heart clench painfully at the thought of Joffrey siring one himself. Her father was one of the most honorable men in the kingdoms, and even he’d done it, so of course, the prince would if she failed to please him. “I need someone discreet and preferably good-looking for this; it’s the only way that I’m going to avoid ending up having a child like Jon around the Red Keep when I’m…”
She trailed off, her eyes widening slightly as a truly terrible idea occurred to her.
“It would be wrong, so wrong, but then, isn’t all of this wrong?” Sansa thought to herself. “Incest is a sin, but so is fornication, and as a creature of sin, surely Jon would be even more tempted than most men by me. It’s only really a problem if children come of such unions, surely, as that’s how you get monsters like the mad king, but with moon tea, I could prevent that. Thank the gods, I thought to ask the queen about that. Jon’s going to the Wall; you’ll never see him again, and no one would believe him if he said anything anyway, given what he is, not that he would. Mother would insist on him being gelded if anyone learned the truth, and Father might agree, angry as he’d be. He’ll want me, he’ll stay silent, and then he’ll go to the Wall where he can’t trouble me at all; it’s perfect.”
She smiled at the thought, feeling an odd tingling between her legs as she considered it more, and turned to the buttered bread on her plate, finally feeling up to eating.
“I’ll need to figure out how best to get him to come to my chambers later,” she thought to herself. “It would be best to do it while Father is still out hunting with the king, as he took a fair few guards with him. I’ll seduce him; he’ll give in because he’s a bastard and it’s in his nature. I’ll learn everything I need to know to please Joffrey, and then I’ll be his wife and become queen someday, and it will be perfect!”
She grinned to herself, completely convinced that her plan was good, and looked over at Jon, who happened to be staring at the high table, and caught her eye.
“Why are you smiling at Jon?” Arya asked. “I’ve never seen you be anything but a bitch to him.”
“Arya Stark!” Catelyn exclaimed.
“I’m just happy,” Sansa replied as her mother started chewing her sister out for her language. She had the beginning of a plan, but she knew that she was going to need more advice from the queen to pull it off.
*****
“Come with us, Jon,” Robb begged, slurring his words a little.
“I’ve had...hic...enough,” Jon replied, pounding his chest to try and quell the hiccups.
“Ah, let him go, Robb,” Theon laughed. “It’s not like he’d know what to do anyway.”
“What are you...hic...talking about?” Jon asked.
“Jon, we’re visiting one of the brothels in Wintertown,” Robb whispered. “Come; if you’re going to insist on going to the Wall, at least try a girl first.”
“I’m telling you, Robb, he wouldn’t know what to do with his cock,” Theon chuckled. “He never even looks at girls.”
“I will not sire a bastard,” Jon insisted, thinking for just a moment that his hiccups had gone away, only to be proven wrong the second he finished speaking.
“That’s what moon tea’s for, you fucking idiot,” Theon muttered, “or anal.”
“Ugh,” Robb grimaced, and his friend laughed.
“Don’t give me that face if you haven’t even tried it,” Theon chuckled. “Gods, I prefer Ros’ cunt, but that woman’s arse is fucking amazing.”
“You won’t sire a bastard, I swear,” Robb insisted.
“And if it’s girls you aren’t interested in, I think they’ve got a boy whore there too,” Theon sneered.
“Tried his arse yet, Theon?” Jon asked, wiping the smirk from his face instantly.
“You little…” Theon went to say, when Robb stepped between them.
“Enough,” he hissed. “Jon, are you coming or not?”
“I’m going to turn in for the night,” Jon replied. “Goodnight, Robb.”
“Night,” Robb sighed, watching him go. “Let’s go.”
“Bastard,” Theon muttered, following him away.
By the time Jon had gotten back to the keep, his hiccups had gone away, but the foul mood Theon had put him in hadn’t. He’d never liked the Ironborn and as much as there were many things and people in Winterfell he was going to miss, he knew that Theon, alongside Lady Catelyn, wouldn’t be among them.
“You should have just said yes,” a small voice in the back of his mind said. “You are curious about what it’s like.”
He shook his head and scowled, knowing that he couldn’t, no matter how tempted he might be. His life had been marred from the start by what he was, and he knew that he had been more fortunate than most bastards. To grow up and live hated for what you were, for a thing that you couldn’t control and had no say in, was infuriating. He didn’t want to blame his father for that, per se, as he had taken him despite everything, but he vowed never to put any child through what he experienced.
“I have control over that much,” he thought to himself as he made his way towards his chambers.
“Jon!” Sansa called out, and he turned around to see her standing there, looking oddly eager to see him.
“Sansa?” Jon asked. “What are are you doing out here? It’s late.”
“You’re out here,” Sansa replied brattily, and he sighed.
“You’re a girl and you’re younger than I am,” Jon muttered. “You know your mother would…”
“I don’t want to talk about Mother right now,” Sansa sighed. “I need you, Jon.”
“What’s wrong?” Jon asked, knowing that he was just about the last person she’d turn to normally.
“There’s a rat in my chambers,” Sansa replied.
“A rat?” Jon asked.
“A big, hairy, scary monster of a rat as big as a cat,” Sansa replied, shivering. “I thought I was going to die.”
“Did it bite you?” Jon asked in concern. “Maester Luwin is probably still awake and…”
“No, it didn’t bite me,” Sansa muttered. “It just gave me a fright. Come kill it for me.”
“Bother the bloody rat-catcher,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to catch rats.”
“Alyn twisted his ankle earlier,” Sansa lied. “He’d be useless right now. I don’t need you to catch it; I just need you to run it through with your sword.”
“Sansa…” Jon went to say.
“Jon, please, I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know it’s dead,” Sansa pleaded. “The king is going to be back soon, and I don’t want to fall asleep at the feast Father will throw. He could be insulted and call off the wedding, and then I’ll never know a moment of happiness!”
“I doubt the king would cancel your betrothal because you fell asleep at the table,” Jon chuckled. “He seems quite nice, and you know he loves Father as a brother. Why bother me about this at all? Why not the guards?”
“I don’t want them in my chambers,” Sansa sighed. “Mother says never to bring men into my bedchambers unless it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Do you have any idea what she’d say about the idea of you inviting me into your chambers?” Jon asked, staring incredulously at her, and she scowled.
“Well, I trust you more than them, alright?” Sansa muttered, putting her hands on her hips. “I’d ask Father, but he’s away, and I’d ask Robb, but he’s nowhere to be found…”
“You trust me?” Jon asked, surprised. “I thought I was just your half-brother.”
He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice at that and failed completely.
“That’s half enough,” Sansa smiled, ghosting her hand over his forearm. “Jon, please; I’ll pay you if I have to.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Jon sighed, knowing he’d soon have little use for coin. “How are we going to explain it to the guards, though?”
“There’s a secret passageway in and out of my chambers,” Sansa replied. “You’ll really do it?”
“Yes,” Jon replied, and she squealed, wrapping her arms around him.
“Thank you!” Sansa exclaimed. “Come, I know the way.”
“Gods, she must have been really frightened by this rat,” Jon thought to himself. “I’m surprised there was one in there, anyway; the rat-catcher is usually really good about keeping them out of that part of the keep.”
The servants’ efforts to keep rats away from his family’s chambers had been bolstered a few years ago by the fallout when Arya managed to nail a rat with a knife she’d smuggled into her room from the great hall and then paraded its corpse around the halls to show off her throwing skills. Jon was pretty sure White Harbor heard Lady Catelyn’s screams that day.
She pulled her cloak up over her head to hide herself, and in doing so revealed just how tight her light blue dress was around her hips. Jon knew that Sansa had developed quite a bit in the last year as she blossomed into womanhood. He knew this in the same way that he knew the sky was blue and snow was white, and hadn’t paid any attention to it, but as he followed her, whether due to the copious amounts of beer he’d consumed or Robb and Theon’s talk of bedding whores, he found his eyes being drawn to her shapely arse and had to force himself to look away.
“She’s your sister, you damn pervert,” he thought to himself, growing horrified when he felt his cock twitch in his breeches. “I really do belong at the Wall.”
“Here,” Sansa whispered, pulling on a loose stone in a small alcove near her chambers, and Jon was shocked when, a moment later, he heard a click and a small section of the wall next to it started to jut out. “Quickly.”
She rushed inside, and he rushed after her, closing the false wall panel behind him. It was pitch black inside the hidden hallway, with nary a sconce to be seen, and as they’d not brought torches or lanterns, it wasn’t all that surprising when, a moment later, he bumped into her. Her soft, warm body pressed against his, and he’d have jumped in surprise, but he expected her to and just held still a second too long.
“Sansa,” he hissed.
“Follow my lead,” Sansa replied, walking forward, and he shook his head, cursing his own cock for swelling at the feeling of her pressed against him.
“I can’t see a bloody thing,” Jon muttered.
“Reach forward and grasp my shoulders,” Sansa said, and he furrowed his brow at her.
“What?” Jon asked.
“I know the way, and I’d rather you hold me than bump into me again,” Sansa replied. “Just do it.”
Grumbling to himself, he did as she bade and tried not to think about how warm and soft she felt when he did so.
“Your clothes are a lot softer than mine,” he murmured as she led him forward, and she giggled.
“I’m a girl, silly,” Sansa replied. “They’re supposed to be.”
“You must really be afraid of that rat,” Jon murmured. “You’re never this nice to me.”
Sansa halted at that so quickly that he bumped into her again, his cock brushing against her arse, and that time he immediately jumped back.
“I’m sorry, Jon,” Sansa sighed. “I should make it up to you for that.”
“It’s fine,” Jon muttered. “I’m leaving in a few days anyway.”
“Mmhmm,” Sansa murmured, reaching for the nearby lever and pulling it to reveal her chambers. “Come in.”
Her fireplace was lit, and the sun hadn’t yet fully set, so there was some light in her chambers, which Jon was very grateful for, and as Sansa closed the hidden door behind him, he looked around. He’d been in Robb’s chambers before, but never hers, and he couldn’t help but notice how different they were. They were of a similar size and just as well furnished, but Sansa’s chambers were more colorful, the walls covered in murals depicting scenes of valiant knights on horseback and ladies dressed in fine, colorful southron gowns.
“She can’t have let Arya in here before,” he thought to himself. “I’d have been able to hear her making fun of it and laughing from my chambers.”
“So where was the rat?” Jon asked.
“It scurried behind that chest there,” Sansa replied, pointing at a large wooden chest in the far corner. “Start there, and I’m going to make sure it’s not in my bed.”
“Very well,” Jon murmured, making his way over to the chest.
Like Robb’s chambers, Sansa’s were more than a single room, her bedchamber being sectioned off from the rest of it, and so as Jon started searching for signs of a rat, she disappeared behind a wall. Drawing his blade, in case he had to skewer something, he knelt down and dragged the chest from the wall to get a better look.
“No droppings, no rat hair,” he thought to himself as he looked more closely. “I don’t see tiny claw marks in the wood either, or evidence that something has been chewed. The little bugger wasn’t here long, that’s for sure. Where did he go, though?”
He knew that being there was a bad idea and that if he were caught by the guards, he’d have to explain himself quite a bit, so he tried to search as quickly as he could, looking around the room for anywhere that the rat might have gone.
“Sansa, I think the little thing might have just run off,” Jon called out quietly, not wanting the guards outside to hear a male voice coming from her chambers.
“Could you check under my bed?” Sansa called back. “Just to be certain.”
Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think about what his father’s wife would say about him being anywhere near Sansa’s bed. She’d be furious, claim immediately that he tried to do something unconscionable, and the gods alone knew what might happen then. She was his sister, though, and even if she’d been less than pleasant to him for years at that point, he was still more than happy to help her out. Walking into her bedchamber, he cocked an eyebrow when he saw her lying in her bed, with the covers up to her neck.
“You’re that scared of the rat?” Jon asked.
“They’re gross,” Sansa muttered, “and they bite people. I heard about a peasant girl who was bitten by a rat, and the wound ended up festering to the point they needed to remove her foot.”
“Seeing under the bed is going to be annoying,” Jon murmured, grabbing a nearby lantern and hoping that it would suffice. He knelt down next to her bed and peered under it, being so focused on that that he barely noticed when Sansa sat up or threw her covers off. “Sansa, I don’t see any…”
Time seemed to stop as he beheld her and saw that she was completely naked. Every inch of her pale, creamy skin was on full display, her curves completely revealed to him, and in that moment, his brain seemed to turn off. She was stunningly beautiful, undeniably so, with full, supple breasts capped by pale pink nipples, a soft, flat belly, wide hips, and long, pale legs, between which a thick forest of auburn curls made his mouth water. She leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs wider, and smiled at him, her blue eyes nearly managing to hide her nervousness.
“S...surprise,” she stammered as Jon, whose brain had finally come back to life, bolted to his feet and practically jumped away from her.
“Sansa, what the fuck?” Jon asked, groaning as his traitorous cock strained against his breeches.
“Jon, it occurred to me that I’ve been terrible to you over the years,” Sansa sighed, standing up and smiling at him. “With you set to go to the Wall soon, we’ll likely not see each other again, and that’s made me...regret a few things. I racked my brain trying to find a way to make it up to you, and then I thought that there was one thing I could give you.”
“Sansa, I’m your brother,” Jon protested, his heart hammering in his chest as she drew closer.
“Half-brother, and I’m not asking you to wed me, just to bed me,” Sansa said, reciting one of the lines the queen had given her verbatim.
Her first conversation with her had been illuminating, but it had been in the two follow-up meetings that she’d really hammered out the details of her plan. Cersei thought that choosing her bastard brother was a great idea, so much so that she could hardly keep her smile off her face when she brought it up and had given her a few ideas about how to get what she wanted. She had also answered a few questions that Sansa had failed to ask the first time, such as how to avoid having Jon’s bastards.
“You’re drunk, you’re not thinking, you…” Jon went to say, only to go still when Sansa took one of his hands in hers and pressed her lips to his palm.
“No one will ever know,” she whispered. “You’ll be at the Wall, and I’ll be in the capital, and we’ll take this little secret to our graves.”
“This is madness,” Jon breathed. “I could put a child in you, an incestuous child.”
“I’d take moon tea,” Sansa assured him.
“What about Joffrey?” Jon asked, gasping when she leaned in and pressed her warm, soft body against him.
“Joffrey would never learn the truth,” Sansa promised, “and this way, when he does wed me, I’ll actually know what I’m doing.”
“Wait, what?” Jon asked, finally managing to step away from his sister as she winced and scowled at her feet. “That’s what this is about?”
“Alright, yes, that’s what this is about,” Sansa muttered. “I don’t want a marriage like the king’s and queen’s, where my husband dishonors me at every turn. If I learn how to please him, though, he’ll have no use for other women.”
“So you decided to try to seduce me?” Jon asked, anger swelling in him as he glared at her. As fucked up as this entire scenario was, he’d been a little pleased by the idea that Sansa wanted to apologize to him for being so cold and cruel as they got older. “What about your maidenhead? Surely you want to keep that for the wedding night.”
“I broke it days ago myself,” Sansa muttered. “The truth is that most men get so drunk on their wedding nights that they hardly notice much of anything, and it will be easy enough to smuggle a little animal blood in to spill on the bedding.”
“Fucking hells, Sansa,” Jon said, shaking her head. “What would your mother say if she heard any of this?”
“She’d be even angrier at you than me, so don’t even think of telling her anything,” Sansa scowled, and he glared back at her, unable to deny that. “She’s married to one of the most honorable men in the kingdoms, and even he has a bastard. If I want to avoid that, I need to learn how to keep Joffrey’s attention on me and me alone.”
“And that’s what this is really all about,” Jon thought to himself, still glaring at his infuriating sister. “It’s almost funny; if Catelyn hadn’t been such an absolute cunt to me over the years; if she’d deigned to not treat a babe like he had personally offended her on every possible level, her eldest daughter wouldn’t be here right now, trying to learn how to bed her future husband properly.”
“If you don’t do it, I’ll find someone else,” Sansa declared defiantly as she stepped forward again. Softening a bit, she added, “I do trust you the most out of every man I could choose, though; I wasn’t lying about that.”
He should have said no; he knew that. He should have said no, waited for their father to return to the castle, and then told him everything, potential consequences to himself be damned. He was drunk, though, and more than that, he was so fucking tired of everything. Catelyn had treated him like something vile she had a servant scrape off the bottom of her shoe since he was a babe, condemning him for a crime he didn’t commit, and had taught Sansa to scorn him too. That had hurt so much as a boy, realizing that she was pulling away from him, having been as friendly and warm as the others when she was young. The first time she called him her half-brother, he’d cried alone in his chambers that evening, seeing the clear loss for what it was.
“I’m going to the Wall anyway,” he thought to himself as his eyes raked over her admittedly beautiful form.
“Say yes,” Sansa whispered, taking his hand and bringing it to her right breast. “Say...oh, oh my.”
Soft, warm, and supple, her perky breast filled his large hand perfectly, and he reveled in feeling its weight.
“The other one, please,” Sansa breathed, gasping when he cupped it too. “Oh, gods, that feels marvelous. How many women have you touched like this?”
“Do you want to talk about other women, or do you want me to do what you’ve been begging me to since you first undressed?” Jon asked, and her jaw dropped.
“I haven’t beg…” Sansa went to protest when he captured her lips with his.
He didn’t want to tell her that he’d never been with a woman before, or that this was going to be as much a learning experience for him as it was for her. That might have actually convinced her that this was a bad idea, but he was too far gone to want her to come to that conclusion anymore. As far as his drunk, resentful mind was concerned, what Sansa was offering him was too great to give up, and he was going to take as much as she wanted to give him. She returned the kiss, her technique as sloppy and unfocused as his, and her hands went for his tunic, wanting to feel more of his body.
The tingling between her legs that she’d come to associate with thinking about taking a man to bed flared up more powerfully than she’d ever felt before, and she cried out when Jon pressed a knee between her legs. He silenced her with another kiss, pushing his tongue between her full lips that time, and groaned at the taste of sweetened lemon on her tongue. She replied to him in kind, still working on tugging up his tunic, and when Jon broke the kiss again to toss it away, she shivered at the sight of his body. He was lean and well-muscled, his body honed from years of learning to fight alongside Robb, and she grinned as she ran her hands over his thick, strong arms.
“Jeyne’s right,” Sansa breathed. “You are very handsome.”
“Jeyne said that?” Jon asked, surprised, and she scowled at her own stupidity.
“Don’t even think about it,” the redhead warned him, and he chuckled.
“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” Jon replied, figuring that his dreams were going to be of her for quite some time to come. He undid his belt and pulled it away, letting his breeches fall and his cock spring free into the air, earning a gasp from Sansa. “What?”
“Is it...are they supposed to be that large?” the redhead asked, and he snorted.
“I guess,” Jon shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve ever seen anyone else’s, at least not in this state.”
“It’s...I mean, if babes can come out of me, it will fit inside, but…” Sansa said, trailing off as she wrapped her hand around his shaft. “Gods, my fingers don’t even touch.”
“Oh, gods,” Jon moaned, marveling at how good her hand felt around him.
“It’s so soft,” Sansa breathed, earning an indignant glare from her brother, which she didn’t even notice. “Hard too, but soft…”
As she explored his cock with her hand, Jon tried not to spurt then and there. He knew from what he’d heard from Robb and Theon over the years that a woman’s touch felt really good, but he had no idea that even a simple touch like this could be so amazing. When Sansa reached down to fondle his balls, she was a little less gentle than she should have been, and he yelped more in shock than anything.
“Jon?” Sansa asked, pulling away from him in concern.
“Be very careful with those,” Jon muttered. “They’re sensitive.”
“Sorry,” Sansa winced, sitting down on the bed.
“It’s fine,” Jon replied, kneeling in front of her and placing his hands on her knees.
He pushed slightly, and she spread her legs for him, revealing the thatch of ginger curls between her legs. They looked wetter than they had when he first saw them, and as he brushed his fingers over the soft, damp hair, he marveled at the sheer heat emanating from her sex.
“Oh, gods,” Sansa moaned, clapping a hand over her mouth as she felt someone touch her cunt for the first time.
“You’re so wet,” Jon breathed, knowing enough about sex to know that that was a good thing.
“Oh, gods, don’t tell me I’m bleeding,” Sansa muttered, staring down at herself in horror.
“No, it’s not that,” Jon murmured, spreading her pubic hair aside so he could get a look at her fleshy pink nether lips. “It’s what will let me fit inside you.”
“Why are you looking at it?” Sansa asked, blushing in embarrassment.
“It’s beautiful,” Jon breathed, leaning in to get a better look. “Fuck, you smell good.”
“Huh?” Sansa asked. “What are...oh, gods!”
Jon had heard many stories about sex over the years, few of them willingly, and almost all of them from Theon. He knew enough about the ironborn asshole to know that most of his stories were almost certainly exaggerated, but there were a couple stories that he remembered thinking were likely mostly true. In one of them, he hired two whores at once and sat back for most of the encounter watching them pleasure each other before joining in. The graphic detail he’d gone into back then had irritated Jon, but he did pick on a couple things he thought might be applicable, such as how much women apparently enjoyed being licked between their legs.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” Sansa babbled, forcibly muffling her voice with her hands as she writhed in pleasure on the bed.
The taste he found oddly pleasant, tangy, salty, and musky, and he quickly started exploring her folds with his tongue. Theon hadn’t given him any specifics about how the whores had licked each other, only saying that they quite enjoyed it, and so he was on his own there. All he had to go off of was Sansa’s reactions, and luckily, she turned out to be quite expressive, too much so when he brushed the tip of his tongue over a small thing that seemed to be pushing out from under a hood of skin near the top of her sex.
“Ahh!” Sansa screamed, and they both froze, looking in horror towards the other room.
“Lady Sansa, are you alright?” one of the guards asked, banging on her door.
“It was just a dream; stay at your post,” Sansa called out in reply.
“Fucking hells,” Jon muttered. “You can’t do that.”
“I know it just...it felt so good,” Sansa moaned, grabbing a pillow. “Try licking that spot again and I’ll cover my face with this.”
“How many times over the years has Arya thought of doing just that to you?” Jon thought to himself in amusement as he went back to licking her.
Licking that little nub atop her sex brought another muffled shriek from her, one that the guards thankfully didn’t hear, and so he kept at it. She eventually complained that it felt too intensely good, and so he started touching that specific spot only sparingly, exploring the rest of her cunt thoroughly, all while she started to squirm and shiver more and more intensely. Everything just felt incredible to her, and she couldn’t fathom at all why Septa Mordane had presented sex as a chore to be endured for the sake of making babes.
“This is wonderful,” she thought to herself, her thighs clamping around Jon’s head as he swirled his tongue around that little spot. “Gods, I could have him...I mean Joffrey, do this every day if he turned out to be willing.”
When Jon pushed a finger inside her, she grunted and removed the pillow to look at him.
“Fuck, your fingers are so thick,” Sansa moaned. “I needed to use a candle I stole to break my maidenhead, and that was barely any thicker.”
“You’re so hot and tight,” Jon groaned, imagining how she was going to feel around his cock when even her hand had felt insanely good.
After a moment, he added another finger, stretching out her sweltering little tunnel further and making her gasp and squirm under him. She really liked that, from how she was reacting, so he started pushing them in and out while swirling his tongue around the little nub she loved so much.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Sansa cried, struggling to keep quiet as she felt like something inside her was building to a maddening intensity.
Jon had never heard her swear at all before, so hearing her like this was oddly arousing, something that only added to how badly his cock was aching and leaking everywhere. He had never needed to cum more in his entire life, and he wanted desperately to bury himself inside her, but he was enjoying her reactions to what he was doing to her far too much to stop just yet. With every brush of his tongue against the taut little pearl, her moaning and squirming became more obvious, and she soon needed to plant the pillow back on her face for fear of bringing them attention they absolutely didn’t want. Just as Sansa was about to beg him to stop, though, fearing that things had gotten too intense, something inside her snapped and she shrieked into the pillow.
“Sa...holy fuck,” Jon gasped, feeling her cunt spasm around his fingers as she began to writhe on the bed.
She was already tight, but the way she squeezed him as she went through whatever he’d done to her was incredible. He couldn’t imagine how good it would feel around his cock, and between that and the sight of her supple breasts jiggling and rolling across her chest with her every jerky motion, his self-control reached its end.
“More,” Sansa panted, moving the pillow aside to stare at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. “I need more, Jon.”
Jon nodded and climbed onto her bed, settling in between her parted thighs. Everything he’d done up to this point was a betrayal of everyone he loved, he knew that, yet this was a far greater line still than anything he’d crossed. He couldn’t take any of it back, but actually fucking her was something he truly couldn’t undo, and yet, as he gazed down at her beautiful body, the alcohol in his system and the years of Catelyn’s scorn made the choice easier than he ever could have imagined. Fisting his cock, he lined himself up with Sansa’s dripping slit and pushed forward, gasping as he felt his bulbous head pop inside.
His sister’s beautiful blue eyes went wide as saucers, and she threw her head back, looking like she was going to cry out. Without thinking, he placed a hand over her mouth before realizing how that looked and pulling it back.
“Sorry, I just…” he went to say when she pulled him down and kissed him hungrily.
If she tasted her cunt on his lips and tongue, she didn’t seem to mind, and he groaned at that, returning the kiss. Her hot, wet, incredibly tight cunt felt every bit as incredible around him as he thought it would, and he knew that it wasn’t going to take him long to cum, but he hoped that he’d manage to at least bury himself inside her to the hilt first.
“More,” Sansa whispered in his ear. “I’ll never learn what to do if you don’t actually push it inside me.”
Jon nodded at that and started fucking her with short, slow strokes, figuring both that it would help her adjust to his size and make it less likely that he’d spurt inside her within a few moments. Her tight depths yielded to his invading length inch by inch, clinging desperately to him in ways that made him want to just let loose and rut her like a wild beast until he’d finished. He held back, though, enjoying the feeling of her body more than he ever could have imagined, and he chuckled at the realization that everyone who’d told him he should experience this at least once had been completely right.
“What is it?” Sansa asked.
“Just enjoying myself,” Jon replied, staring into her eyes. “You feel so fucking good, Sansa.”
“So do you,” Sansa whispered. “You feel huge, and it does sting and burn a little, but it feels so good too. I don’t know why Septa Mordane spoke of sex as such a terrible burden for women.”
“Maybe no one ever wanted her,” Jon muttered, and Sansa smacked his chest.
“Honestly, you’re as bad as Arya,” the redhead chided, and he chuckled.
“I’m glad you picked me for this,” Jon murmured.
“So am...oh!” Sansa gasped, her nails raking over his back as she felt him brush against something inside her that felt incredible.
She threw her head back as she gasped, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. She’d bathed recently, he could tell, the smell of flowers clinging to her skin being evidence of that, and he shivered as he inhaled her scent. Pressing his lips to her soft skin earned him a soft moan, so he kept kissing her, trailing his lips down along her neck until he reached her chest. Her sizable breasts seemed to almost call to him, and he leaned down, lathing his tongue across one of her hard, pink nipples.
“Oh, gods, do that again,” Sansa moaned.
Grinning, he did as she asked, swirling his tongue around one of her nipples before wrapping his lips around the other one and sucking on it. That made her moan loudly enough that she grabbed her pillow again, and so he kept it up, worshiping her beautiful breasts as he continued to bury more and more of his cock inside her. Inch by thick inch, he went until finally, his hips came to rest against her surprisingly plump arse.
“I...took it,” Sansa panted, shaking like a leaf from the exertion. “Gods, you feel so big inside me.”
“You’re so fucking tight,” Jon groaned. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.”
“Do I feel better than the whores you’ve had?” Sansa asked, feeling oddly pleased by the thought.
“Sansa...I’ve never been with anyone else,” Jon admitted, and her jaw dropped.
“What?” Sansa asked. “But you’re a bastard. Bastards are creatures of lust; everyone knows that. I even overheard Theon and Robb talking once about a trip they’d taken to a brothel…”
“Well, I haven’t,” Jon muttered. “Maybe everyone is wrong about bastards.”
“I’m sorry, I just...I was surprised,” Sansa sighed. “So you really can’t teach me what to do in bed, can you?”
“I’ve loved everything so far,” Jon replied, and she gave him a flat look.
“Jon, all I’ve done is lie on my back and moan,” Sansa muttered. “How am I going to keep Joffrey’s interest if that’s all I know how to do?”
“If he’s too stupid to realize that you’re beautiful and incredible, then that’s his fault,” Jon spat, and she felt her eyes grow misty.
“You really think that of me?” Sansa asked, and he sighed.
“You are beautiful, Sansa,” Jon sighed, cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly.
“Move,” Sansa breathed. “Please, just take me. I don’t mind if you spill inside me.”
“Fucking hells,” Jon groaned, pulling most of his length from her clinging depths before plunging back inside her.
“Oh, gods, just like that!” Sansa moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist as she felt the solid muscles of his back.
“Fuck, Sansa, I’m going to…”
“Do it,” Sansa moaned. “I want to feel it.”
He buried his face in her long red hair and used it to muffle his strangled cry as he came hard, filling her up with rope after thick rope of his seed. She held onto him as tightly as she could and adored the intimacy of it all. She knew that if anyone caught them just then, the consequences for the both of them would be severe, but just then, she couldn’t bring herself to care. It had all felt so good, and as she lay there, holding her brother to her as he panted for breath, she felt happy in a way that she’d never known.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” Jon sighed, pulling out of her and rolling onto his back.
“No, but I don’t regret that we did,” Sansa replied, rolling over and resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you?”
“I should,” Jon replied. “If Father or Robb found out, they’d kill me, to say nothing of your mother.”
“And I’d get sent straight to a Motherhouse, yet I can’t bring myself to care,” Sansa replied, looking down at his cock. “Does it get smaller when you soften? I can’t imagine shoving something that big in breeches.”
“It does,” Jon replied. “I don’t think I’m getting softer, though.”
“Could we do it again, then?” Sansa asked excitedly. “It felt so good.”
“If you want to try being on top, I suppose,” Jon replied.
“What would I do?” Sansa asked.
“I don’t know,” Jon shrugged. “I guess just sink down onto it; I’ll help you there; and then ride me like a horse.”
“I can try that,” Sansa grinned, moving to straddle him.
He lifted his still-hard cock up, gripping her hip as she moved into place, and after a moment of working together, they managed to line everything up. She gasped and moaned as she sank down, loving the feeling of being filled by him again. He would have to leave long before dawn, they knew, but she hoped he’d be able to stay a while yet.
*****
“That...was amazing,” Sansa panted what felt like hours later.
Her legs were still shaking and half-numb, her arse still sticking up in the air, red and sore from the deliciously rough pounding she’d taken. Jon looked over at her, just finishing putting his belt back on, and sighed in contentment as he saw the hand prints on her incredibly plump cheeks.
“I’m amazed you’re still awake,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing one of the marks he’d left on her. “I thought you passed out halfway through that last one.”
“I think I forgot my name for a moment there,” Sansa sighed, rolling onto her back and smiling at him. “You have to go.”
She sighed at that, upset by the simple fact, and he merely smiled.
“I do,” Jon replied, leaning in and kissing her. “I can’t believe we did this.”
“I hope you don’t regret it,” Sansa murmured as she sat up. “I don’t.”
“I should, but I can’t,” Jon replied. “This memory is one I’ll treasure through all my years at the Wall.”
He turned then, grabbing his tunic and throwing it on as Sansa bit her lower lip and considered whether or not to speak aloud the thought screaming in her head.
“Jon,” she said as he went to leave, making him go still, “if you came south with Father, Arya, and I for a year, you could still join the Night’s Watch after, right?”
“I...Sansa, I…” Jon went to say, stunned by what she was asking.
“It would only be a year,” Sansa murmured, “and who knows? Maybe you could spar with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime and the rest of the Kingsguard while you were there. You might learn a few things that could really help you against the Wildlings.”
“Is that why you’re asking me to come with you?” Jon asked. “To help me learn more about combat?”
“I’d be hoping to learn a few more things myself,” Sansa replied, smirking up at him. Tracing her fingers over her inner thigh and feeling the sticky fluids on her skin, she added, “I think I’m going to need several more lessons before I’m to wed the prince, and there’s no one else that I’d want to learn with.”
Jon grinned at that, trying to decide whether or not to take his temptress of a sister up on her offer.