To The Lost

The wolf and the lion

It wasn't meant to happen.

It was purely a mistake...just the heat of the moment.

Or...at least, that was what she had been telling herself.

Running those words over and over again in her mind, as if trying to convince herself.

But still...the memories came, breaking through all the other thoughts, drowning them out.

Consuming her.

The feeling of his hands as they stroked down her skin...his finger tips running over het most intimate parts as he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, how I wish you were still mine..."

His honey coated words would say, setting her ablaze as his damp hair brushed lightly against her cheeks, leaning to press his cool lips to the heated skin of her neck.

Even then, years later, standing upon the balcony over looking the crowded throne room she felt her heart quicken, her breath hitching a notch as Sansa's eyes scanned up and over, passing over the heads of the others, disinterested, until...

...there he was.

Exactly how he had been the very day she had arrived at Castely rock and everyday there since it seemed.

Hunched over his books, arms outstretched as his fingers tapped, somewhat impatiently, against the papers spread before him, his shoulders rising and falling with his gentle breathing.

She felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth as some of his golden hair fell into his hooded azare eyes, cast ahead at the man speaking, his name unheard. Her fingers, clenched around the carved marble railing that stretched out along either side if her, itching to reach out and brush the curls back, once again feeling the silky strands running through her fingers. Her eyes slipped shut, her head lowering.

She could still remember it. So well, it seemed, that she could still feel the unique texture.

The foreign feeling of another person's hair cascading down her arms, fanning down her chest and stomach as he ran his tongue across her reddened flesh.

She forced her eyes open, her cheeks growing hot as she ripped her gaze from him and turned it towards the man seated at her side, watching in silence for a moment as he stared down at the circle of men far below with a kind of interest she knew she would never possess. His golden hand laid out over his lap, its shimmering surface catching the faint rays if light that filtered down from the small windows carved above their head.

He wasn't a bad man...not at all.

He was kind to her, gave her whatever he thought she wanted, offered her love and protection and that of her child...

But...

It surprised her when, out if the corner of her eyes, she saw the king suddenly stand and hurry away from the gnarled man, leaned precariously over the great iron throne, watching through curious eyes as the king ran, making his way to the doors as his men rushed forward to pull them open.

"My son!" Tommen called over his shoulder as he hurried, turning back only for a moment to flash a brilliant smile, his arms outstretched at his sides. "Margaery has birthed me a son!"