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Lady Sansa Stark was exhausted. The wedding of her brother – well, adopted brother – to Queen Daenerys Targaryen had been long and exciting, five days of feasting and celebration followed by a day-long ceremony, and Queen Daenerys’ coronation. Suffice to say, Sansa was tired. 

Jon had looked so happy in the Queen’s arms, like Daenerys had hung the moon and stars in the sky herself, and he was somehow lucky enough to be by her side. Sansa was happy for them, truly. Despite the differences she had in the past with the Dragon Queen, Sansa could admit that she had misjudged the woman. Daenerys was kind, honest, and caring, especially with Jon, but the small blonde also had a fiery temper that was rarely seen as often now, with all of the wars finally won. Daenerys had begun to make changes to the living conditions in King’s Landing, improving as much as she could for the smallfolk of the city, whom even the lowest of lords and ladies often overlooked. Yes, Sansa admitted to herself, Jon could not have found himself a better bride.

As she closed the heavy wooden door to her guest chambers at Dragonstone, the resounding echo in the empty room weighed heavily on her ears. As happy as she was for Jon and Daenerys, their joy had only emphasized the growing loneliness in Sansa’s own life. There was a time, she supposed, when she would have considered marrying Theon, after they had saved each other from Ramsay. But the Night King stole him from her, and not even the Drowned God or the Old Gods could bring him back. Arya had set sail for whatever lay to the west of home, and now Jon would be living with his bride. They promised to visit Sansa in Winterfell as often as they could, and if she needed Jon, she only had to send a raven. He could fly home on Rhaegal in a matter of hours. But it would never be the same.

A soft knock on the door startled Sansa from her melancholy, “My Lady? Are you alright?” The concerned voice of Ser Podrick Payne was muffled slightly by the hefty door. After the battle for the Iron Throne, and Cersei’s defeat by Daenerys and her dragons, Ser Brienne of Tarth knighted her longtime squire in the throne room of the Red Keep. Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne, smiling down on them. Sansa had been standing beside Jon in the front row, both of them grinning like fools. 

In the weeks that followed, Sansa had not yet made the long journey home to Winterfell, choosing instead to let her troops recover at Dragonstone with the rest of Daenerys’ soldiers. A part of her still did not wish to leave Jon, or Bran, who would stay to serve as Hand of the Queen. When she returned to Winterfell, she would be all alone with her ghosts and the nightmarish memories she now had of the place she once called home. 

During her stay on Dragonstone, however, Ser Podrick Payne had always been a reliable presence. He was polite and kept his distance, but he was always somewhere nearby, and Sansa found herself crossing paths with the newly knighted Podrick several times a day. He was always respectful, and often asked how she was doing, but he never tried to pry or push for more information. He preferred to walk beside her, to keep his hands to himself, and excuse himself from her presence after a few moments. It had begun to disappoint her, truly, because she found that the young knight was a man she would like to know better. It was precisely this respect and grace that Ser Podrick showed towards Sansa that made her wish to know him more…intimately. She trusted that his devotion and loyal service would never waver under any circumstance. 

A few days ago, she woke from a dream where Podrick’s lips had been pressed to her collarbone, his hands gently but firmly holding her hips, slowly moving inside her while murmuring, “my lady…my beautiful lady.” She hadn’t been able to meet his eyes without blushing furiously since that night. 

Another gentle knock startled her from her thoughts again, and her body moved automatically, opening the hefty wooden door. Podrick stood in his gleaming golden armor, courtesy of his new friend Lord Gendry Baratheon, but Podrick rarely wore his helmet. His dark tousled hair stuck up in every direction, and Sansa felt the familiar urge to run her fingers through it. Concern twisted Podrick’s brow, his lips pouting in a way that really should not have Sansa thinking about pressing her own against them. He took a small, hesitant step towards her, and clasped his hands together.

“Are you alright, my Lady? You left the celebration early, I wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong,” he said, shuffling from one foot to the other in the doorway. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Sansa said quickly. Podrick nodded, turning to walk away, “Podrick, would you like to come in?” She found herself speaking before she had a chance to think over her words, but the knight turned, and hesitantly stepped back into her quarters. The heavy door closed firmly behind him.

“How may I be of service to you, Lady Sansa?” Podrick asked, still hovering in the doorway. The light from the fireplace cast eerie shadows on his face at this distance, and Sansa wished he would come closer so that she could see him properly.

“Jon and Daenerys seem happy,” she muttered instead, and Podrick’s posture relaxed. He stepped toward the fireplace, and sat on one of the armchairs arranged in front of it. Sansa settled into the other chair beside him and they watched the flames dance in the hearth for a few moments.

“Yet…you are not, my Lady?” Podrick said quietly, “Happy, I mean.”

“I am very happy that Jon has found himself a loving and caring woman to spend the rest of his days with. I am happy that they are both so deeply in love. I only…,” Sansa trailed off, twirling her wolf-shaped ring around her finger, “I don’t wish to sound jealous, or ungrateful of the generosity that Daenerys has shown my men and I, allowing us to stay here, and throwing such an elaborate celebration. I suppose I am just tired. And…lonely,” Sansa muttered the last word under her breath, hoping that if she said it quietly enough, Podrick wouldn’t hear. She did not want him to judge her for being so selfish during her brother’s happiest moments. 

Instead, she turned to find Podrick’s big brown eyes fixed to hers, and suddenly he grasped her hand. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver through Sansa, and her fingers were warm and tingling where their skin met. She could not tear her eyes from his, though, as he leaned in a bit closer and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sansa. I can’t imagine how lonely you must be,” he said, “If it makes you feel better, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sansa blinked, her eyebrows knitting together at Podrick’s words, “What do you mean, you aren’t going anywhere? You intend to stay here on Dragonstone, correct?”

“I will remain on Dragonstone until you decide to leave, my Lady,” he replied, loosening his grip on her hand slightly. Sansa laced their fingers together, unwilling to let him break the contact. Podrick’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze fixed on their intertwined hands.

“Until I decide to leave?” Sansa’s voice quaked slightly as Podrick met her eyes again. He nodded.

“I will go wherever you choose. I swore to Ser Brienne that I would protect you, and that is what I intend to do, until the day I die, Lady Sansa,” Podrick promised. Somehow, their chairs were now pressed together, but Sansa could not say whether she had moved hers or he had moved his. 

“Just Sansa,” she said, “Call me Sansa, please.”

“Sansa, then. I will protect you for as long as I live, Sansa. I would like to formally swear my sword to the Lady of Winterfell eventually, though,” Podrick’s other hand clasped around their already joined ones, holding hers between both of his. He was so close now, Sansa could easily lean in and–

“Podrick, can I kiss you?”

A heavy silence fell over the room as Sansa realized exactly what she had asked. Podrick’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked as though she had slapped him.

“I…I’m sorry…I…just…never mind-,” Sansa started to pull away from him, when he grasped even tighter, pulling her back, then he cradled the back of her head with one hand as he brought their lips together.

Sansa had never truly been kissed before, and certainly not like this . The mere brush of Podrick’s lips on hers sent sparks shooting up her spine, a warm tingle in her stomach. He molded his mouth to hers, fingers carding through her hair, gently holding her like she was precious. His lips moved slowly, sliding against hers with a much more practiced ease. 

She had heard the stories, of course. Tyrion and Bronn loved to sit around after a few too many drinks and tell the story of the young, shy, virginal squire who had pleased three prostitutes so thoroughly, they refused to take his money. Sansa never truly believed it until now, as Podrick lightly tugged at her hair and swiped his tongue across her lips. She gasped, and he followed the motion, his tongue brushing inside tentatively.

All too soon, he pulled away, still cradling her head and holding her hand. His cheeks had a light pink flush coloring them, and Sansa’s free hand had found its way to his shoulder in the midst of their kiss. She slowly slid her hand down to where a few straps of leather held his golden armor in place, and began to pull them loose. Podrick grabbed her arm, stilling her movements.

“What are you doing, Lady Sansa?” He breathed, his dark eyes wide and reflecting the flickering firelight.

“Just Sansa, please. You look so uncomfortable in all of this metal…” In truth, she just wanted to be able to touch him without the armor in the way. Sansa pulled her other hand from his, and set to work removing bits and pieces of the metal encasing on his arms as Podrick watched in silence, his lips still parted and eyes wide with disbelief. When she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him to try and untie his chest plate, he stopped her with one firm hand on her shoulder.

“ Sansa . What are you doing ?” Podrick’s voice was stern, his face more serious than Sansa had ever imagined he could look. His grip on her shoulder was strong, but still gentle. She bit her lip and placed both her own hands on his shoulders, glancing at the ceiling and silently begging the gods for help. I want him , she thought, I want to feel something other than fear and pain.

“You would never harm me, Podrick,” Sansa stated, as it was a fact, not a question. Podrick still nodded, his stern expression muddling with confusion.

“I would never dream of harming you, La- Sansa.”

“I know. I trust you. That’s why…,” Sansa searched for the proper words as she slowly ran one of her hands up the side of Podrick’s neck and finally buried her fingers in that beautiful, soft, messy hair of his. Podrick’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, a small gasp escaping his lips. Sansa leaned in closer, whispering her desires directly into his ear, “I want you, Podrick. Please, if you want me too, give me this,” her heart pounded in her chest at the admission, “I want to know what it feels like to lay with a man whom I trust completely, who would never harm me, who only wishes to protect me…I want you ,” Sansa pulled back to judge Podrick’s expression, wishing she could take her words back immediately. She was bold. Too bold.

Podrick was staring at her like she had smacked him upside the head again. His mouth hung open, his eyes scanning her face incredulously. After a few seconds, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally spoke.

“Are…are you sure, Sansa? You…you want… me? ” His shock was evident in the way he stumbled over his words, something he hadn’t done in front of Sansa since they were both in King’s Landing ages ago. Sansa ruffled his hair, lifting her other hand to his cheek, her thumb lightly traced his bottom lip, and Podrick’s eyes slipped shut again.

“Yes, Podrick, I do,” Sansa breathed, leaning back towards him until their lips brushed together ever so briefly. Podrick grasped her neck, capturing her mouth with his once again. Sansa once again found the leather straps on the back of his chest plate and released them, pulling the metal off of his chest and letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang. Neither of them paid it any mind, as Podrick lightly nipped at Sansa’s lower lip, then ran his tongue over it, making her whimper. One of his hands held her in place as he devoured her mouth, the other hand worked at the pieces of armor still strapped to his legs. His chest was only covered by a thin shirt now, though, so Sansa slipped one of her hands underneath, feeling the firm muscle of Podrick’s stomach. His fingers tightened on the back of her neck, gently pulling her hair, as another quiet groan slipped past his lips. Podrick pulled away, and Sansa’s heart dropped. Does he not want me after all?

“Would you prefer to…to continue this on the bed instead?” Podrick muttered, his fingers brushing a few of her stray hairs back, and Sansa’s anxieties quieted. She nodded eagerly, and Podrick grinned, pressing another searing kiss to her lips before he stood from his chair. Then he turned and lifted her out of her own chair, carrying her like a maiden from the songs that Sansa loved. The few pieces of armor still attached to his legs clanked softly as he made his way across the room to the bed in the corner. The position put Sansa’s lips right beside Podrick’s neck, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing an open mouthed kiss to his pulse point, her tongue brushing against his skin for a small taste of him. The resulting moan that Podrick released and the way his stride faltered for a second filled Sansa with a small sense of pride. 

Her pride faded as Podrick laid her down on the bed, his eyes dark and hungry, leaning over her and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He was so handsome, it took her breath away for a moment. He did not immediately join her on the bed; instead, he knelt down and began removing the rest of his armor. 

“Sansa, can you make me a promise?” he asked, hesitation evident in his shaky voice. 

“Of course,” she replied, sitting up and running her fingers through his hair as he continued working at the metal plates. 

“If I do anything that is not pleasurable for you, tell me, and I will stop. Promise me that you will let me know if you are uncomfortable or in pain? Or if you change your mind?” Podrick unclasped the last bit of his armor and let it fall to the floor with the rest, finally looking up at Sansa from where he knelt on the floor. 

“I promise, I will tell you,” she said, and Podrick rewarded her with another smile. 

“Good. You trust me, correct?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because I want to do something that may seem… different , and I need you to trust that I am going to give you so much pleasure, Sansa,” he said, his eyes gleaming, mischief seeping into his grin. One of his hands slipped under the hem of her skirt, brushing her ankle, and he stared up at her, waiting for her permission. Sansa had no idea what he wanted to do, but she did trust him, so she gestured for him to continue. 

Podrick bent down, following the slow path his hands made with his lips, pushing her dress up and pressing kisses on each exposed inch of Sansa’s legs. Liquid heat pooled between them and a shiver crept up her spine as Podrick continued his ministrations. Soft whines escaped Sansa’s lips as Podrick moved slowly, closer and closer to where she desperately needed him. 

Finally, Podrick’s fingers brushed against her core through her smallclothes, which were absolutely drenched, and Sansa couldn’t help the loud, wanton moan that she released at the contact. She sat up, her fingers tightening in Podrick’s hair, as he pushed her dress up even further. One of his fingers hooked on the waistband of her smallclothes as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“May I?” he asked, his voice deeper and more gravelly than before. Sansa nodded, and Podrick pulled the garment down her legs, tossing it on the floor with his armor. Sansa reached around to untie the laces on her dress, as it was suddenly extremely warm in the room, despite the quickly darkening fireplace. Podrick’s hands covered hers, though, and he murmured, “I would like to do that for you, Sansa.”

Sansa did not know how to respond, so instead she leaned down and kissed him. Podrick’s soft lips, skilled tongue, and gentle, quick fingers working dutifully to untie the laces on her dress was a stark contrast to the teeth and tearing she had endured during her time with Ramsay. Heat pooled between her legs again, but she had no way of alleviating the growing need she felt. Podrick’s lips traced a path across her jaw, down her neck, and lower as he pushed her dress further down. When he lightly nipped at a spot on her collarbone, she was vividly reminded of the dream she had, and she tightened her grip in his hair, a soft moan passing her lips. 

Then Podrick slipped her dress down below her breasts, and the kisses suddenly stopped. She heard him take a sharp breath, and he let out a hushed, “ Gods .” Sansa immediately reached for her dress to pull it up, but Podrick stopped her, lacing his fingers in hers again as he stared up at her. 

“I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he said, his eyes watery, “You did not deserve any of this. You…you are so…so strong , so brave…Gods , you’re so beautiful ,” Podrick traced a scar that marred the top of Sansa’s chest, right above her breasts, a several inch-long slash. He pressed his lips to the mark, and the next one, then the one below it. As he continued, his kisses were firm, sweet, and…wet? Sansa cupped his chin, urging him to look up, and when she met his eyes, there were tear stains trailing down his cheeks. She swept them away with her fingers, her hands cradling his face.

“It’s not your fault, Podrick,” she assured him, but he shook his head.

“If I had allowed Ser Brienne to rescue you when she wanted to, you wouldn’t have endured all of this. It is my fault. I convinced her to wait. And I will regret that decision for the rest of my days,” he said, his fingers still tracing the outlines of her scars. Sansa bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, burying her face in his soft curls.

“If you two had tried to go in there, you would have been killed, or worse. I’m glad you didn’t,” she guided his lips back to hers, and she could taste the salty tears lingering on his skin, “I don’t want to think about any of that right now, though,” she murmured between kisses, and Podrick responded by pushing her dress down her arms, over her waist, past her hips, and letting it pool onto the floor below them. Sansa tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he pulled it off in one smooth motion in response. 

Standing at the end of the bed, his shirt still in his hands, he stared down at Sansa’s bare body reverently, his eyes wide and lips parted, chest heaving. He looked strong , Sansa thought, his arms and chest sturdy without being extremely muscled. Before she was able to touch him, though, he dropped his shirt, knelt down between her legs, and hooked them over his shoulders. His breaths tickled her thighs, sending heat searing through her entire body. When he pressed his mouth to the inside of her leg she moaned, grasping at his hair, his shoulders, any part of him that she could reach. His tongue darted out, marking a hot, wet line towards her core, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder and tugging his curls.

“I’m going to touch you now, Sansa,” Podrick said, and Sansa felt her heart skip a beat at how he continued to reassure her anxieties without even trying. 

Then Podrick slid one of his fingers between her slit and Sansa’s vision went white with pleasure, a loud, wanton moan escaping her as Podrick massaged her nub before he slipped the finger inside of her. A warm, wet sensation across her slit made her sit straight up in shock, staring down at the man who was currently… kissing her… there?! He licked her again, and white sparks danced behind her eyes as the pleasure coiled in her. Podrick continued to lick, suck, and slide his finger in and out of her, as Sansa writhed and moaned, feeling as though she was no longer in control of her body. She was wound tightly, taut like a bowstring, and she just needed something inside of her to break loose. 

“Oh, Gods, oh…Oh Gods, Podrick!” her voice was shaky and high pitched, feeling as though she was close to some kind of eruption, like she might explode-

Podrick pulled away, scanning her face, and if he hadn’t just been giving Sansa the most pleasurable experience she’d ever had, she might have slapped him. 

“Are you alright, Sansa?” He asked, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he took in her flushed face and heaving chest, the thin sheen of sweat on her skin. 

“Did I tell you to stop? ” Sansa panted, her fingers tightening in his hair. Now Podrick was smirking, as he continued to pump his finger in and out of her, far too slowly. 

“I am at your command, my Lady,” he said, before he returned to his task, sliding a second finger inside of her and doubling his efforts. When he wrapped his lips around her nub and sucked, his fingers pumping faster and faster, Sansa felt the coil inside of her finally burst. Her entire body tingled, her vision fading to complete whiteness. A wave of ecstasy and relaxation filled her as she moaned and scratched at Podrick’s shoulders. She collapsed back onto the bed, trying to catch her breath, her body useless and limp. 

Podrick finally laid beside her, an arm wrapped around her waist. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her shoulders, anywhere he could reach, as she felt her heartbeat slowing. She turned to stare at him, at a complete loss for words. Her slack-jawed expression made Podrick laugh, a sound she could feel with his body pressed so close to hers. He was so handsome when he laughed, she thought; he should do that more often. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” She asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair again, “Did those girls from Tyrion’s story teach you?”

Podrick chuckled again, “To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing when Tyrion brought me to Littlefinger’s brothel. Kissing them there was just something I thought I’d like to do, and the girls seemed to enjoy it well enough. But ever since we reunited, I couldn’t stop picturing myself doing that to you . I felt so guilty, thinking about my lady like that, but the idea would not leave my mind. The real thing was so much better than I could have imagined, though.” He pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, “How are you feeling? Are you tired? I can leave you to rest now, if you’d like,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

“Oh? You wish to leave?” Sansa turned on her side to look at him, hoping her disappointment was not evident in her voice. Podrick just smiled at her, wrapping a few of her red strands around his fingers.

“I do not wish to leave, but if you are not interested in doing anything else tonight, then I will go. If I stay, I do not believe I will be able to keep my hands off of you,” Podrick muttered, his lips ghosting along her jawline as he spoke. A shiver ran up Sansa’s spine as she imagined what he might mean by his words. She shifted even closer to him, molding her body to his, and she could feel how hard he was in his trousers. Podrick gasped, his hand tightening in her hair as Sansa slowly moved her hips against his, feeling his length through the fabric.

“What if I don’t want you to go anywhere? What if I want your hands all over me?” Sansa replied, before she gently scraped her teeth against his neck, earning another small sound of pleasure from him. Her hands slowly ventured down his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, finally resting on the waistband of his trousers.

“Are you sure?” He muttered, even as his hands joined hers, working to pull the garment off. He stopped her before she could push the trousers down, his eyes boring into hers, forcing her to answer his question. Sansa nodded vigorously, and Podrick brought their lips back together as he finally stripped himself nude.

They lay on their sides, and Sansa could feel how large and hard his cock was, pressed firmly against her hip. He made no move to insert it, however, as one of his hands found her slit again and began working two fingers in her. His other hand gripped her thigh, and moved her leg so it was hooked around his waist, allowing him more access to work his fingers deeper inside of her. His lips moved with hers, a satisfying push and pull. A sweep of his tongue on her bottom lip, as he added a third finger inside of her, released a moan from Sansa. Podrick took advantage of this to explore the inside of her mouth with his tongue, as Sansa hesitantly brushed hers against his, feeling a spark light up inside of her stomach.

Podrick broke away, pressing his forehead against hers as he removed the fingers from inside of her, grasping his cock instead. He rubbed his cock against her slit, not putting it inside just yet, but teasing her so badly that she wished to command him to fuck her immediately. She met his eyes to see that he noticed her frustration, because he was smirking at her irritation. Sansa huffed, reached between them herself, grasped his cock, and slowly slipped the tip of it inside of her.

He was big, that was certain, but it was surprisingly not painful or uncomfortable, just a slight ache that made Sansa wish to feel more, to be filled completely with his cock. She had never imagined that sex could feel like this , without any pain or fear, just a man who adored her and the desire to feel him as close to her as humanly possible. He slowly eased himself inside, and she welcomed the feeling of his cock stretching her, as Podrick huffed out soft breaths and grasped her hips tightly. His own hips unconsciously gave shallow thrusts as he eased into her, and Sansa met his thrusts with her own, until finally he was fully seated within her.

“ Gods , Sansa, you feel so good,” Podrick groaned, his face flushed, a bead of sweat slowly rolling down his forehead. He pressed his lips to hers sloppily, exchanging open mouthed kisses with more tongue than finesse as he slowly started to move inside of her, shallowly at first, easing her into the overwhelming pleasure as his grip on her waist tightened. He gently guided her onto her back, changing the angle as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Podrick started to fuck her more earnestly then, his pace and the force of his thrusts increasing, and stroking something inside of Sansa that had her vision blurring with pleasure. She knew she was moaning like one of the whores he had bedded, but she did not care, nothing felt as good as Podrick’s hands holding her, his cock pumping in her, his lips tracing patterns on her skin wherever he could reach. One of his hands cupped her breast, teasing at her nipple as his lips sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on Sansa’s neck. She could feel her release building again, as she began rocking back onto his cock, finding his rhythm and trying to feel him deeper and deeper inside of her. 

“Oh, gods, Podrick, please, please ,” she moaned, not really sure what she was pleading for, but so close to the edge that she needed something, anything… Podrick’s other hand slipped between her legs, and his thumb found her nub, sending sparks shooting through her, as he rubbed once, twice, three times, and the pleasure overcame Sansa’s entire body once again. Her eyes focused on Podrick, who continued his ministrations as her legs shook and her arms turned to jelly. Once her wave of pleasure had almost subsided, Podrick’s thrusts became sloppy, less rhythmic, and his eyes closed as he moaned loudly, before she felt his seed, warm and wet inside of her. Then, he collapsed on top of her, mumbling, “ Sansa , my Lady Sansa ”

She loved the way he said her name. She loved the way he always called her “my lady”, even when she told him not to. She loved the way his body felt, solid and strong, pressing her into the mattress. And she loved the way his seed felt inside of her. She thought she might even be able to love his child, if she became pregnant with one. 

Her eyes flew open at this thought. Never had she felt safe enough to carry a man’s child, but this urge seemed to come naturally with Podrick. Perhaps she was simply being silly once again, since he had given her so much pleasure and shown her what it should be like to lay with a man. Still, she could not stop wondering when they might be able to lay together again.

“Thank you, Podrick,” She mumbled, pressing her lips to his shoulder. He looked up at her, grinning widely, his hair sticking up at odd angles. Sansa giggled, reaching out to fix it.

“No need to thank me, I would gladly do this with you any time you wish, Sansa,” he replied, “Would you like me to leave?”

Sansa stared at him as he yawned, stretching his solid muscles as he attempted to roll off of her, “No, please don’t go,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him in place. He chuckled, and settled back down on the bed beside her, pulling her against him with one strong arm. Podrick yawned, settling into Sansa’s soft blankets and the furs she brought with her from Winterfell, pulling one of the furs around both of them.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asked. Sansa smiled at him, slightly lost for words.

“I’m feeling wonderful, Podrick. And you?”

“I’ve never been better, my lady,” he said, his breathing starting to slow and his eyes sliding shut. Sansa settled in under his arm, feeling safe and secure with her handsome, sweet knight protecting her. Sleep was only a few seconds away, when she heard Podrick mutter something else.

“I love you, Lady Sansa.”