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The Lady and her Man	By : LL72 Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 22575 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones. I am not making any money from this story

Chapter List
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This story is a fusion between the Game of Thrones and it's original source material in A Song of Ice and Fire, so if you don't recognise some of the minor characters from TV its probably because they're from the books. The slant I put on it is mine...
*
There was still a lingering smell in the air, of smoke and ash and something else even less wholesome. The storming of cities was never pretty; even if King Robb had ordered his knights to spare the innocent and those who threw down their arms, their had been plenty who had not taken his orders to heart. A few of the rapers were hanging from gibbets or weeping silently in cages, castrated for their crimes, but they were a minority.
Brienne tramped through the gates of the Red Keep, noting the carpenters at work on replacing the old pair, shattered and burnt, during the taking of it. Almost immediately inside she saw the head of Cersei Lannister impaled on a spike, two guards by it to ensure it remained undisturbed; it was either a greeting or a warning. Brienne gave it a brief look; the woman had been executed for Regicide, Mariticide, incest and treason - but as far as Brienne was concerned, as she had watched bring down the sword with a grim smile, Cersei's death was revenge for her earlier mistreatment of Sansa. Perhaps Robb had felt the same or at least he was bringing justice to his father. Still Brienne couldn't mind that Jaime was alive - even if exiled for a life on the Wall - he had at least made attempts to atone for his sins. Nor did she begrudge the lives of the children - taken into the care of The Faith for a life of obedient, and chaste, service; they were innocents. But even if Robb had executed them she'd have been bound to support him, he was her King and she was his most leal subject.
She entered the tower and walked towards the door, which led up to the new King's chambers. The guards at the bottom of the steps moved to block her way, their poleaxes coming down in a diagonal gate.
"Brienne of Tarth," she announced herself, though the men surely knew who she was, "I am expected."
"Wait here," one of them said. "The King is in conference with his Lady Mother."
Brienne nodded, content to wait. Others would have bristled and demanded entrance, sure they were more important than they were or complained to the guards about being kept waiting - after all they had been summoned. Brienne didn't, she served at the King's pleasure and if he was running late because he wanted to take his mother's advice it was not for Brienne to gainsay him. Anyway the more he listened to Catelyn in private, the better the king he would be - she was more intelligent than most men.
The guards saw she wasn't going to be trouble and she saw them relax, pulling their poleaxes into more comfortable positions. "I hear you was first up the wall," one of them said.
"I didn't realise I was until I got to the top," Brienne blushed at the memory. She'd just been concentrating on getting up the ladder as fast as she could, not an easy thing when you're wearing plate and people are throwing large rocks at you.
"Took down three, before the Greatjon joined her," the guard said to his fellow.
"Garn, you're talking rot, Pate, it was more than that, weren't I up following Lord Glover, when we got to the top she was surrounded by 'em, dead and dying, at least a dozen."
"How many was it?" the first guard looked at her.
It wasn't a pleasant memory, the hacking, the screams, the blood; not like a tourney or even the yard where the blows were blunted and killing pretend. She shrugged, "I'm not sure."
"They say you broke the whoresons," the first guard continued, "Like you was the Father himself come to avenge us."
"Aye, that's true, didn't Lord Glover say to me when we was looking for some where to sleep that night - it was that Brienne of Tarth, worth a dozen of us," the other added.
Brienne blushed. "I'm not sure that's true." A year ago she'd been a freak, now she was a hero and she thought that might be as difficult.
Luckily before the men could further invent feats for her (she'd already had to deny to one awe filled squire that she'd climbed the walls without a ladder) a servant came down, murmuring quietly in Pate's ear. He nodded and stamped his poleaxe on the ground, gesturing to his comrade to open the door, "His Grace is up the stairs, he'll see you now."
She stepped up them swiftly, taking them two at a time with her long legs. There was another guard at the door to the solar, who rapped it as Brienne arrived announcing her.
It was the King himself who answered it, gesturing her in with an easy smile. His wife was there, sitting on the couch, her hands clasped over her pregnant belly and beside her was the King's mother, Catelyn Stark, the widow of Winterfell. Next to the fire, warming himself though the Autumn had not yet lost the heat of Summer was the Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister - who seemed not at all aggrieved that his sister's head was on a spike outside and his brother was on the Wall. They were important figures all but Brienne's eyes weren't for them, nor even for her King, after her quick bow, but for the fifth person awaiting her; Sansa Stark as beautiful and lovely as when Brienne had bade her leave in White Harbour near a year before. The redhead bit her lip and smiled coyly, her eyes meeting Brienne's and reflecting the warrior's desires back to her.
She dimly aware the King was speaking and she forced herself away from her heart and back to reality. Luckily all he had been doing was asking whether she'd met his wife and she was able to stutter some reply. Robb grinned and waved her to a seat, it was further away from Sansa than she would have liked, but nearer than she could have hoped.
A servant came in with mulled wine and Robb paused whilst he handed it out, politely refusing for himself and his wife. Only when the man was gone did he turn to Sansa, "You have heard I'm returning to the Trident?"
"There have been rumours," Brienne admitted, though in truth she had born them little mind, the King's place was in King's Landing.
"They're true. I do not like this City, it is too warm and summery, even now," he said, which surprised Brienne who could feel the chill whenever she was out. She remained silent, it was not her place to disagree, and waited for him to continue, "The North is too cold in Winter for my wife, especially when she is with a child." He indicated her and she nodded, rubbing her belly as if to confirm his words, "So the Trident makes a good compromise."
"Your Grace," Brienne replied, wondering why he had called her.
He didn't tell, but continued to explain his reasoning, "It's more central than Kings Landing, I'm half a Riverman myself and with the attainder of the Freys, there is now a free castle in a strategic location - no-one but the King will guard that crossing from now."
Brienne nodded thoughtfully, that made more sense than not liking the capital's heat. It didn't however explain why he had brought her up here.
"You approve?"
"It's not my place," Brienne said, "but your arguments make sense."
"Would you tell me if they didn't?"
"No, but she'd tell me and then I'd tell you," Lady Catelyn smiled as she said it.
"A King needs advisors who will tell him if he is wrong," Robb said and indicated Tyrion, "I know if my Hand agrees it is not a bad idea."
"It was mainly mine in the first place," the Hand interjected. Perhaps Tyrion sensed her confusion as he continued "Anyway your Grace, I'm sure she's wondering why you called her up here if not to discuss your domestic arrangements."
"Yes," the King smiled, "If I'm no longer here, I'll need a new Lord of King's Landing, a Warden of the Crownlands. You..."
"Me?" Brienne hoped she didn't squeak as she replied.
"Who better?" he said, "You've proved yourself leal and courageous, you have a good head for strategy and unlike some of my Lords you can read without opening you mouth and do sums which require more than ten fingers. Anyway..." and he gave a wide smile, "It's a command not an offer."
"I'm your leal servant," she said, "but I would be honoured to be the Lord in your name..."
"Warden of the Crownlands," he corrected her. "I've also discussed with my small council that it would be better if you're wed."
It was not something Brienne wanted, but whilst she had resisted her father's word on this she would not go against her King, so she dutifully bowed her head. Robb smiled again, "I can recommend it," he said placing his arm on his wife's shoulder. "However I should be more specific, it's important you're bound to me by blood, married to a Stark."
"Of course your Grace," wondering which of his brothers it would be. At least they were both so young she wouldn't worry about consummation. She was slightly disappointed to see that Sansa was smiling broadly, she had hoped her lover might have been less pleased at the news - but perhaps it would be because they would become goodsisters, which at least allowed them some contact.
"Of course, this is a choice, I cannot force you into it," Robb was grinning broadly like he was about to make a joke, which was very unlike him.
"I'm sure whichever you suggest will make a good husband," she replied.
"Or wife," he said, leaving her frowning.
Sansa was beaming so brightly she was lighting up the room, "I accept."
Brienne had stood in line against armoured knights bearing down on hardened warhorses and not rocked back in shock. However as she realised what was being said she wasn't sure she didn't fall from her chair. "Sansa... me."
"Mother sometimes thinks I'm blind to these things and mayhaps I can be, but you've been gazing at her ever since you came in. I'm not going to ask whether Sansa is a maid, but I can tell she's also be staring at you like a lovesick puppy."
"But we cannot marry - I am a..." Brienne hated saying the word so didn't and just added, "and so is she. The Faith won't allow it."
"The Tagareyn's wed brother to sister and the Faith allowed that," said Tyrion with a grin so broad it made his ugly face look both uglier and more human. "It's funny how religious beliefs can meld to those of a King's."
"They recognise that times are changing," said King Robb, more diplomatically, "Too many men died in the wars, they had a choice that either women can enter matrimony without a man or they don't marry at all, and act as temptation to make men forsake their own vows. "
"They certainly agreed that," said Tyrion, "I'm sure that it was nothing to do with your Northerners eyeing their tapestries and golden goblets and I'd hate to suggest that the Greatjon was there as anything but a tourist with an interest in the local culture."
Robb gave a smile, "You shouldn't forget the payment for damages inflicted by rogue and deserters during the war." He turned back to Brienne, "So what do you say, the Warden of the Crownlands and my sister?"
"Your Grace, I don't know what to say..." she struggled for words.
"Please don't haggle," laughed Tyrion.
"Say yes," said Robb.
"Do," said Sansa and then blushed as she realised she'd spoken out loud.
"Yes your Grace, for both."
*
The month was as busy as Sansa had ever had, but also near the loveliest (though the time in the forest alone with her love would never be beat). There were so many preparations that were needed for the wedding, and as the King's sister there was no expense being spared. Others might have passed the planning to others, but Sansa was a traditionalist who believed that the bride (with some help from her mother) should be the ones who arranged everything. It meant choosing minstrels and entertainers (no dwarfs, Robb had asked and she agreed to spare Lord Tyrion embarrassment) to agreeing the courses and the colours of the flowers.
In between this she had spent time with Brienne, relaxing in her lover's company - hawking and riding, walking in the gardens, even talking with her whilst Sansa sewed and Brienne sat by the fire playing herself with some ivory cyvasse pieces. Often Sansa had been tempted to slip out of her gown there and then and take the woman's weapon into her. But she held off, if she wasn't a maid, she would also remain chaste until her wedding night. If Brienne was frustrated she gave no indication of it, seeming instead to relax and revel in Sansa's company as much as the redhead did in hers.
She too was busy, preparing for the King's departure days after the wedding and making sure that before then all the King's business was either finished or packed and ready to move to his new capital. Then there were repairs - to the walls and gates, smashed in during the fighting and to the smallfolk homes and businesses, which had been wrecked during the sack. Crimes had to be judged and wrongdoers punished (though Sansa was glad Brienne employed a headsman, she had never agreed with her father and brother's views on those who made the judgement wielding the sword).
And then the day came.
And it was everything Sansa had always wanted it to be.
Everyone said how beautiful she looked in her gown and pearls and with her hair all piled on top of her head and coiffured like a statue - even Arya had managed to stumble out a few words of praise. Her brother, the King, had stood beside her and given her away to her new husband, Brienne. Brienne had looked so butch and strong, so gallantly brave that Sansa had almost swooned at her smile and she had to steady herself as Brienne went behind her to clip on the robe - signifying they were now woman and wife.
Sansa had hardly listened to the words of the High Septon, though she was sure they were lovely and just right for the occasion, as all she wanted to do was look at Brienne - almost unbelieving they were married.
The celebrations had been, as the word implied, joyous - the singers were the best in the seven kingdoms - all full of praise for the King and his most gallant servant - whilst remaining in tune and the jugglers and acrobats masters of juggling and acrobatics. Her brother had been Kingly, showering compliments to all and showing favouritism to none (apart from perhaps, the Queen, but that was to be expected) - dancing with a number of the ladies, laughing and clapping at all the entertainers and talking to whichever Lord passed by the table. He also had let Brienne take the lead - he had made sure she was offered the first choice of every morsel not him (and then Brienne had offered it to Sansa so her brother was third, a long way down for the King). And when it came to the dance and tradition of the first being the King and Queen and the tradition of it being the Groom and their bride, he had graciously let the latter take precedence.
Brienne must have been practising. Sansa loved her, but she was not graceful - apart from when she had a sword in her hand - but tonight she only stepped on Sansa's feet a couple of times and so daintily that the redhead scarcely noticed. Sansa had been practising as well, with a proper dancing master - not like the old fraud who'd tried to teach Arya, and she was sure she moved with the grace and beauty of a dragon, her long red hair streaming behind her like flame. Brienne enjoyed it, smiling whenever they came together in the tumult of bodies, her hands caressing and stroking the younger woman as they moved together.
Then it was time for the bedding. Sansa closed her eyes and tried to smile, hoping her lips were displayed in a way which said that being stripped by a group of leering men, with their ribald chants, was a lark. She feared it was more a grimace. However luckily she was now the King's sister and as such she had more dignity, whilst she was down to her small clothes and plenty of choice comments were made about what was underneath, no-one went any further, just carrying her to the wedding chambers. Behind her she could see Brienne being carried by the women, her expression showing she was enjoying the experience little more than Sansa. As the King's Warden and not a blood relative the women were being a little more daring with her, her clothes already stripped off so that only the woman's weapon was left.
"My that's a big one," Sansa heard her mother tease.
"You know how to use it?" Arya asked cheekily.
Other women hooted and cheered, teasing Brienne mercilessly about her use of the weapon. She was blushing by the time she was put down next to Sansa, though the redhead knew that her husband knew how to use her weapon well. The door was opened and Brienne was inside even quicker than Sansa, her hand reaching out and almost dragging her new wife in-doors just as Sansa was about to thank everyone for carrying them up. The warrior slammed the door, muffling the sounds and catcalls.
"I..." Sansa started to say, but Brienne interrupted her with a passionate kiss, her mouth staying on Sansa's for a long time. Not that Sansa was complaining, as far as she was concerned Brienne could kiss her for ever and ever, the other's strong hands gripping her sides and rubbing at her through the thin silk of the smallclothes. Sansa's tongue moved back, touching and rolling at Brienne's, her own hands round her lover's... her husband's... back.
The kiss went on and on, the two of them locked in the embrace as the catcalls continued from outside, suggestions of what they were doing, or should be doing, abounded. Sansa ignored them all, lost in Brienne, her lips against hers, her mouth open and moving, their bodies pressing together, so Brienne's small, hard tits were squashing at Sansa's larger (albeit covered) ones.
*
It had been so long since they had been together, Brienne felt a hunger so gnawing it was like she was in pain. Her hands were reaching for the smallclothes, pulling them so hard that they tore. Her lover... her wife... neither minded or resisted, kissing hard back at her, squashing her lovely body even nearer as Brienne pulled the ripping silk from her body.
She temporarily pulled away, looking at the redhead's naked body. "Let me look," the warrior growled, her voice thick with lust.
Sansa blushed and smiled, standing as naked as the Seven intended, her plump bosoms gently swaying as she giggled and tittered with pleasured embarrassment. Brienne continued to look, aware of how lucky she was to have this vision of beauty as her wife naked before her. The redhead almost moved her hands to hide her shaven slit from Brienne's view and then thought better of it, moving her hands to her hips and trying to stand proud and tall to her love's gaze.
"You're beautiful," said Brienne.
"And your so handsome and butch," replied Sansa and Brienne realised as she had been admiring the redhead her wife had been admiring her back.
There was only one response Brienne could make to Sansa's words, "I love you," she said and stepped forward to push her wife onto the bed.
"I love you too," giggled Sansa and then gave a small squeak as she felt onto the thick and bouncy mattress, filled with down of a thousand birds. "Oh Brienne, I love you so much...mmmmnn," her words turned to moans as Brienne's mouth found a plump tit, licking and suckling it, making the teat harden and rise. At the same time her hand was on her wife's womanhood, stroking the slot, her fingers drawing between the puffy lips to the gap within. She could feel the wetness of it, even damper inside as she slipped her fingers down and in.
"Mmmnnn, oooohhh," Sansa groaned again, her hips gyrating to press her sex up and at the Warden. Brienne dipped deeper, stroking the soft inside walls, the warmth of them heating her fingers, covering them in her wife's wetness. She moved firmly and forcefully, but lovingly and pleasurably as well, making sure that Sansa enjoyed her touch. The younger redhead seemed to, continuing to moan and cry, little gasps of joys uttering from her lips with every touch, her nipples like plate iron as Brienne moved between them, subjecting both to the delights her mouth and tongue could bring. "Oooohhh, mmmmnnn," Sansa moaned more.
Then Brienne was on top of her, sending her woman's weapon into the redhead. Sansa squealed and bucked, spreading her legs wider as Brienne thrust and drove. Her body smacked and landed on the redhead, the young woman's soft breasts cushioning each fall. Her hands were planted either side of the redhead, seeming to sink into the soft mattress. She grunted and thrust, enjoying every loud squeal of the redhead, their eyes connecting with each other and their mouths meeting; kissing as they fucked. Sansa's hands were wrapping round Brienne's back, rubbing and massaging the muscles that were bulging as she pounded, "More my love, give me more," she groaned, letting out a gasp as Brienne's weapon hit the special spot. "AAaarrghh."
"Oh yes, you're so beautiful," Brienne continued to look at lover's adorable features, watching the face screw up and then the mouth open and the eyes widen as she came. It was the most perfect thing imaginable, Brienne could never picture that there would be anything as lovely as Sansa orgasming and she wanted to make more of it. So she went faster and harder, riding her wife with a passion. The redhead responded with squeals and gasps, her body moving in time with Brienne's and her mouth trying desperately to latch onto the warriors in a kiss. For a few moments Brienne continued at speed, before relenting and slowing long enough for their mouths to come together, tongues enveloping each other, eyes sparkling.
And then she resumed, thrusting, driving, pounding; fucking her wife to the heavens. Sansa's cries got louder and louder, reverberating around the room. Her hands gripped Brienne tighter, encouraging the warrior and leading her in. The mattress waved about them like it was filled with water (though whoever would think such a thing would be possible); the liquid from Sansa's sex making them wet enough. "Aaaarrrghhh, yesss, my love, yessss."
Brienne continued as hard as possible, hammering hard and passionately, making her wife cum again and again, and leaving the redhead a heap of squealing, screaming flesh, her body thrashing and shaking as the orgasms tore her.
Brienne slipped off, panting and sweating, her head turning to Sansa. The young woman smiled lovingly at her, "I'm no longer a maiden in the world's eyes."
"I've known that a long time, but you'll always be mine," Brienne smiled and kissed her. To her delight Sansa kiss her lingeringly back...
*
If you have any views on this or any other of my stories, please e-mail me at llfic72@gmx.co.uk
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The Lady and her Man