flowerbandits | armin & sansa in winterfell

It's been years now, since Alayne Stone was dropped back into Westeros. The only difference this time was, she wasn't alone. Armin Arlert had accompanied her back, and with a combination of years experience traveling different worlds, and Armin's support, she had been able to retake her home. It had been a long, agonizing rebuilding- but they had done it. The North was given its freedom, under the Queen in the North, her remaining siblings found. Long ago, she had dreamed of achieving this, so she could marry, create multiple children, and live a happy life with her husband. Now, that would be impossible. Any crown would be passed to her husband- and unknowing to her people, her heart already belonged to another.

Those close to her, her Queen's Council had their suspicions. Armin had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, yet Sansa had recommended him highly, and helped him climb through the ranks. Now he was her top General- and they spent a suspicious amount of time reviewing tactics together, for a country at peace. None of this mattered to Sansa. They could think what they wanted. No harm would come of it. She would not allow harm to come of it.

She had requested for him to come meet her in her chambers today- to discuss something important. Really, though, it was nothing of the sort. She merely wanted some time to spend with him, to make sure he was well, and to bask in his company. So, she waits, perched in a seat by the window, looking affectionately across the reclaimed grounds of her childhood.

It had been a long journey, and one with many sacrifices along the way. Leaving Eren and Mikasa, abandoning ever going back to his home world - it was the hardest thing Armin has ever done. But they had learned enough along the way, made enough gains in both power and allies, that he knew his friends would be in safe hands, and his world too. Knowing that, he couldn't leave Sansa to return to Westeros alone, her future uncertain. Left to choose between Sansa on the one hand and everything and everyone he'd ever known on the other, he chose Sansa. He'd said a bittersweet goodbye to his friends, taken her hand, and together they'd stepped into the light...

That had been perhaps five years ago. They'd come a long way, since then - Sansa had retaken her home, brought peace to the land, and regained her family. Now she rules justly as Queen in the North - wiser and fairer for her time as a Traveler. Armin is her general and her trusted right hand, and he couldn't be happier for her - but even years later, he still feels an outsider. He doesn't truly belong here, and betimes it seems obvious to those close to them. It makes Armin worry, especially when he knows that their relationship would not be approved of, were it discovered. Worse still, he knows that Sansa wants children, and that she can't have them with him, in this world. Not and remain on the throne.

Still, he lets it pass. There's peace, and the people are happy. Sansa is happy. So he is content.

He accedes to her request for a meeting, of course. She's his queen, he thinks, suppressing a smile - he could hardly do otherwise. He enters the chamber at the appointed time, closing the door behind him. Then, he turns sharply and salutes, standing at attention - although, as ever between them, it is the salute of his homeworld.

"Your majesty."

When he enters, he will notice that her crown has been removed, set at the foot of the window seat. A sign that he is not here for business- but rather, for her. She smiles sweetly at him, raising to her feet- they will not be disturbed, thanks to the Queensguard posted outside her doors.

"Just Sansa, right now." She says, affectionately, moving to close the space in between them.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at the sight of her, and of the crown set aside - though he'd assumed as much, one could never be sure - but he shakes his head resolutely. "Nonsense. You will always be the Queen of my heart."

Nevertheless, he drops both the salute and the formality in his voice as he steps closer - confident in their privacy (and the soundproofing of the room) - wrapping his arms gently around her. "Just Sansa, then. How was your day?"

She pulls herself into his embrace, leaning gently against him. Here, she can relax, she can be herself, her heart at ease. "As you rule over mine." She murmurs softly, relaxing her head against him.

He asks about her day, and she sighs softly. "Long. Too long. And it isn't yet over. There is time between now and dinner though, and I wanted to see you." Wanted, needed. She grows anxious when he is not nearby, leftover fears of him vanishing from years before. Every time she must send him away on important business- to the wall, to the South, she has a hard time focusing. Having him here now is the most important thing to her. "And yours? I hope that Arya did not bother you exceedingly."

He relaxes too, holding her. Elsewhere, he has to be constantly on alert, even in peacetime - there are always those looking to move up in the world by pulling others down. His relationship and his origin are both dangerous secrets, and all it would take is one slip - besides which, he is as susceptible assassination as anybody.

But he doesn't let any of that show, when he's with her. The rule of law is a heavy burden to bear, and he'll alleviate her load in any way he can.

He laughs lightly at the mention of Arya, voice jesting and unconcerned. "She beat me again, in the gardens. I'm fine, but I'm not sure my ego will ever recover. Or my reputation.

"It does seem we don't see nearly enough of each other, these days. Duty, I suppose." He pulls back to cradle her face in his hands, giving her a soft but lingering kiss. He lets out shivering breath as he breaks the kiss without pulling away, running his thumbs gently across her cheekbones. "But that only make that much sweeter when I get to come back to you.

"Never mind that for now. For the next few hours, nothing outside that door exists. All right?"

"I'm sorry- I hope she didn't bruise you too badly. Say the word, and I'll urge her to be more gentle." Her sister is among the most suspicious of them- but Samsa doesn't mind that. Arya is trustworthy, even if half-wild, and the worst Sansa gets of her suspicions are jabs and jokes, which she's used to by now. Arya never did seem to get the Queen memo.

Enough of Arya, for now, though. Sansa moves one of her hands from round his waist, placing it upon his chest to steady herself there, as he kisses her. "Yes. Duty." She murmurs, echoing his words. Oh, how nice it is, to have him lift the burdens of everything off of her shoulders, whenever they meet like this. His suggestion forms a bright smile, as she pulls him closer to her by his waist.

"I could live with that. Nothing but you and me, just for a little while..."

She will have to private consultations with her general more often.

He laughs again, shaking his head in mock dismay at the thought. "I really would never live that down, if you did that. Besides which, it would only make her more suspicious - no, it's fine. She keeps me on my feet, and in my line of work that can only be a good thing." Armin's not really sure what Arya would think if she knew about their relationship - but he doesn't think it'll be a problem. He's earned her respect, both by his prowess and cunning as a general, and with his determination in their bouts, as well as his continued good humor when he loses.

But enough, they're done with talk of others, with business. There's too much of that the rest of the time - he refuses to let it fill his littler time alone with her too. Letting himself be pulled closer, he drops his hands from her face. They settle on her hips as he kisses her again, more deeply this time. When that one finally breaks, he smiles at her - fierce and playful, and just a little possessive.

"That's good, because I'm not giving you a choice."

Her hips sway, just slightly, when his hands are placed upon them. Then he kisses her, and she kisses him back, her veins already searing with passion. It's over too soon, but she can hardly complain. He's wearing one of her favorite smiles, and it makes her mirror it back to him. It's nice to see him like this, every once in a while, to see his more dominant side.

Slowly, she runs the hand she's placed on his chest down further. "And how do you intend to do that, hmm?"

Jealousy and possessiveness don't come naturally to Armin - but it comes easier to him here, where she's all he has in the world. Besides, he knows by now that she likes it when he's a little possessive - so when he feels the spark, he feeds it as best he can.

His smile doesn't disappear, but it turns more sensual, eyes half-lidded, as he runs one hand slowly but firmly up the side of her dress. "I could tear this dress off. You could hardly be seen wandering the halls without it." His mouth twitches in amusement. "And the thought is more tempting than perhaps it should be, since I'm sure it'll be damnably frustrating to get you out of in more conventional ways."

She keeps her cool as best she can, leaning into the touch of his wandering hand. "You wouldn't. It's more expensive than it has any right to be." It's said in jest- she would be lying if the thought of him tearing it off of her didn't send chills up her spine. "I suppose you'll just have to be patient. ... And a little frustrated." She hums softly, giving his shirt a sharp tug. In terms of ability to get the other undressed, she had the clear advantage here.

Armin lets his eyes wanders before the settle on hers, smoldering. He seems to consider a moment, his other hand tightening at her hip - although whether he's actually considering it or it's just for effect is anyone's guess. "...Are you sure about that?"

Deadpan, he holds her gaze for a long several moments before a quirk of his lips will let her know that - however much he might want to - he's not actually serious about tearing her dress off. He delivered the line well, though.

"Patient and frustrated, huh? I've been that before." His lips quirk again as he remembers the devious little games they used to play back and forth while Traveling, new tricks and powers constantly reversing who between them had the advantage. After a moment, Armin's hand starts gently tracing patterns through the fabric of her dress, teasing. "But if that's the case, you know I'll make sure I'm not the only one who's feeling that way."

After all these years, that look still manages to be make her shiver. For a moment, she's not sure-- then he partially smiles, and she's let in on the joke. To think, for a moment, she had desired him to actually do it! Clothing couldn't just be created from thin air anymore.

"Mmm-- as if you'd have let me off without a dose of frustration, even if I appeared to you bare as my nameday." She sighs happily, pressing her body against him.

His smile turns amused as his hand traces gradually lower. "Perhaps not. But you might get away without quite so much of it were that the case, don't you think?" His hand reaches a point just above her navel, losing speed as he traces around and then slowly down her thigh.

She can only feel a ghost of his touch through her gowns many layers, but that doesn't make it any less enthralling. She leans in closer, her voice lowering, her breath hot on his ear. "Perhaps. But I think you like me begging for more, too much to let me off easily." She moves the hand upon his chest higher, moving to fumble at the clasp that holds his cloak into place.

His hands slip around to her back as they move closer, briefly squeezing her bottom before making their way up to work at her laces. With the way they're positioned, it's not easy - but he's had practice, and his fingers are very dexterous, as she well knows.

He kisses the curve of her neck, his breath quickening as he blows gently on the newly damp skin. "You know me so well," he whispers back.

The squeeze gets a delighted laugh out of her, a sound only he gets to hear. Her hands are also working diligently, catching the waistband of his pants, undoing them while his hands are distracted by only the first set of lacing. He's going to have to untie her top layer of skirts, first, then unbutton the entire thing before she can step out. "I would hope." She mutters, sighing softly from the sensation of breath on damp skin.

She's in just the position to be able to lean foreword and catch his earlobe between her teeth. She can't allow him to have all the fun, can she?

He pays no mind as his cloak flutters to the ground - it almost feels like a race, to undress the other first without breaking the atmosphere. If that is indeed the case, it's a race he's destined to lose - and do so happily. But that doesn't mean he'll just give in.

He draws in a sharp breath when he feels her teeth on him, goosebumps raising on his skin. He kisses her neck again, then the curve of her jawline, then her cheek, and finally her chin, before he captures her mouth with his once again, more roughly this time. The previous kisses were heated, yes - but there was nothing like the passion that's in this one.

The kiss goes on, and then deepens - and it's about that time he finishes the last button, his eyes dancing.

Edited 2016-04-09 03:46 (UTC)

She had been trying to tug on his shirt, when suddenly his lips are upon hers. She manages to slip a hand up, under the fabric, softly brushing against his skin. Oh, but she can't resist his kiss, despite her desperation to have him undressed before her. One hand ghosts gentle circles around his stomach, the other moving to twist into his hair. She uses this to her full advantage, pulling him towards her, tongue slipping into his mouth to run against his own.

His clothes are completely forgotten about. By the way she glows, it might have been worth it.

With her forgetting about his clothes, and nothing much he can do until she steps out of her dress - already slipping down around her - he doesn't mind losing himself in this kiss too. And like her, he always likes to see her taking the initiative, being a little bolder.

His own tongue is a little less bold, merely skirting the edge of her mouth, running along her teeth. However, that's due more to letting her have her way than it is with a lack of boldness on his part, to judge by the way his hands slide down her shift - following and even encouraging the slide of her dress, coming to rest gently cupping the sides of her breasts, his hardness pressing against her when she pulls him toward her.

In truth he doesn't care who wins. The game itself will always make it worth it, for both of them.

With everything untightened and unbuttoned, she gives a little shimmy. This, combined with his gentle, encouraging hands, help the gown off her shoulders, fabric caught in her elbows due to the fact that her hands are currently very occupied. It's more than enough to allow him to explore her curves through the thin, silken shift, and she shivers with delight when his hands come in contact with the curve of her breasts.

Her kiss is strong and passionate still, tongue greedy and proving in his mouth. She's currently dominating the situation- but that could all change in a minutes notice- they both know this, and it thrills her. This is the only place she can be like this- only with him. This game they play, it's an important part of keeping her grounded, keeping her from becoming too distant under the stress, too power hungry in her rule. Armin plays his role of balance in the kingdom behind the scenes as well.

She needs air, eventually, so she draws back- but not before catching his lip between her teeth. Not hard enough for it to bleed- but enough to drag it, slowly.

Armin twitches as her teeth drag along his lip, letting out a quiet little moan, almost inaudible, his breath becoming a little ragged.

They both know that who's dominating the situation could change at a moment's notice - and indeed it does. Armin's hands, while still careful, suddenly turn more forceful as he turns her around and pins her against the wall, pressing hard into her. He kisses her again, hungrily, hands more fully on her breasts.

She smiles at the moan, releasing his lip, her smile looking more wolf than human. His newfound dominance doesn't surprise her- but that isn't to mean she isn't pleased. She lets out a little 'Oof' as her back hits the wall, but she doesn't have time to say much else, with his lips on hers, their kiss ravenous. She yanks the hand previously under his shirt, to wrap her arm around his body- the one still in his hair moving to dig her nails into his scalp - not gently, but not enough to draw blood.

That smile. He likes that smile - likes the wolf in her, the more primal side, what he finds when he undoes all her rules and courtly manners. Sansa thinks Arya is wild, but Armin sees it in her too, in all the Stark siblings - she just hides it better behind the mask of civilization.

His tongue is exploring her mouth this time, almost delicate despite his forcefulness. One hand gently squeezes one of her breasts, as the other drags his thumbnail slowly across her nipple.

Eventually, he pulls his head back from the kiss, breathing hard and still pinning her with his body. When he speaks, his voice is low and guttural. "...You're still far too dressed."

She matches his pace with the kiss- urgent, but she isn't rough with him as she was last time. Instead, she catches his tongue with her own- curling around it, before she's interrupted with her own moan into his mouth. He makes her praise both sets of gods, with the way he handles her body.

"I could say the same about you. Are you going to permit me to strip you?" The hand not in his hair runs softly down his face. He's trapped her against the wall, she will let him choose what she can and cannot do.

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