bakerstreet | Soulmates

He wouldn't fault her for not knowing. He was taking her from some place that sounded medieval and dropping her into the twenty-first century. He wouldn't think her ignorant in a way that lessened her mind. She was quick. She would learn if she wanted to. Her ignorance was through lack of knowledge, which would fall to everyone in her realm, not idiocy.

His brows lifted at the mention of a harp, and he found himself smiling as he came closer, holding out a hand she could take if she wanted. "Then I shall have to get you a harp. I can fiddle, but I've found myself doing it less and less as the years pass. Too busy with work, even when I take myself out of it to enjoy nature." The human condition was weighing on him, and even when he hied off into the woods, he found a fiddle not to fit in with the soft sounds of the forest around him. "I think I'd quite like to hear you play something. You've lovely fingers for it. And as to the sewing, there's plenty of that where I plan on taking you, if you choose to come. Plenty of kinds, plenty of tools. Fashion is in high demand."

"I thought I had made it evident that I would be coming because otherwise we could not be with one another," Sansa says. "You cannot stay in the North with me and I get the sense that staying here in the woods is not something that is sustainable either. We'll eventually have to go and rejoin your life. It was my understanding that being separated was not something that would work in our particular circumstance."

Sansa doesn't quite understand the mate bond or what it means for her but she does know she's drawn to him and isn't willing to give that up even for Winterfell and her role as queen. No, it's the first time she's been truly happy and she should be allowed to have that, she thinks, after bleeding so much for the North over her life.

"I left my hair up if you wanted to take it down," she says shyly. "Since you said you liked it."

"I meant only to enforce the fact that you have options, Sansa. I think you've had precious few of those." He said it in a soft tone, meaning to soothe. "Married twice without consent, treated horribly, and still you want to care for your people. And that is why I wish not to stay here. I'm a Prince here. I don't want to be tied to royalty and people that can be cruel. Not to mention that most of them would prefer I not sit anywhere near the throne since they consider me a child." Not that he blamed them. There was another a few seats behind him in line to the throne who was older than his father by another millennium. That one despised him and his proximity, and Rowan could do nothing about it but just stay away from the court politics.

He stood in front of her, a good few inches taller than her, and looked down at the mass of red braided up. "So you did. And I did indeed say that. Would you like me to do so in bed? That way, if you find yourself drifting off, you can just allow yourself the leisure of sleep. And I mean that in a strictly comforting way. I'll make no attempts to bed you tonight. No unwanted touching at all."

"I didn't imagine you were going to bed me. If you were going to do something of that nature you would have done it when I had all my clothes off earlier. Unless it was an elaborate ruse to elicit my trust only to shatter it now," Sansa says. "However, that would be quite difficult considering you cannot lie. Now that you have said you won't bed me, you can't."

Sansa gives him a wry smile.

"This not being able to lie to me thing is quite useful, you know. It means I do not have to play shadow games with what you say and what you do, trying to reconcile actions with words. The words will always match the actions once you have given them. I promise I will not take advantage of this particular...nuance of yours."

Sansa doesn't want to say weakness, exactly, because is it a weakness when she doesn't intend to exploit it for her own gains?

"So yes. Come to bed with me and take my hair down. I'll probably fall asleep on you."

"Don't think that not lying means that they're always being honest. Here, especially. No fae can lie, but they can make the truth seem like anything but. They can twist words and meaning and answer with questions that aren't lies, but aren't answers. Here, trust no one but myself. And Rue. He'd let no harm come to you." Not lying didn't mean safety, and he didn't want her to think she had a magical cure against knowing the intent of anyone that came to her. Especially a fae. "And don't thank anyone here. It's a trick they play, and they play it often. Thanking a fae means you're indebting yourself to them. They can play loose with the rules and use something innocuous like... stepping out of your path and you saying thank you to inferring you're grateful to them and in their debt and claiming you for their own. This place has its own set of rules." All the more reason he didn't want her to settle here.

He moved beside her, hand at the small of her back as he led her to the bedroom. "I'd like that. The brushing and you falling asleep on me. So let that be the plan for tonight."

Sansa arches her brow when he talks about thanking a fae meaning she would be indebted to them. A thank you is the smallest of courtesies, one that she gives half a hundred times a day, and if it is a dangerous thing to do here perhaps it's all the better that they do not permanently settle here.

He escorts her back into the bedroom and she slips off the robe so she's just wearing her chemise. It isn't as nice as having a proper nightgown but it is better in sleeping in her dress and corset so she will take it. She takes the initiative and turns down the blankets before sliding into bed and inviting him to join.

"I'll be sure not to speak to anyone here but it begs the question as to why you would even come here if things are so...difficult. I would simply never return and continue living where you are happiest. Why is it that you come back? For your mother?"

He waits until she's settled, going over to a table and picking up a heavy, old-style hairbrush that he brings over. He climbs onto the other side of the bed, moving so that she can put her back to him so he can start on her hair. "A lot of it's for my mother. Her marriage to my father is a contractual one. Fae don't breed as often between themselves lately as humans do. So contracts have been made to allow for attempts to breed the blood true. Any child of the union is wanted, but it extends the contract to attempt for more. She's almost free of him now, and she'll be returning to her court when she is. My father is... well. A pure example of a Winter Court prince." Which meant cold and practical. He wasn't sure he'd ever use the word 'love' to describe what his father felt for him. He didn't even think pride fell into it, since he was considered weak among his kind. If only they knew.

"But I'm still a sidhe. Still fae. And there's something soothing about being among my own kind. Being around magic. That, and familial obligation means when events occur, I make myself available to be touted out."

His hand reached for where her braid was fastened and started to undo it. "They don't think much of me, and I'd prefer it that way. If they knew what I could do-- the healing... It's better they don't."

"No, it would be better that they did not know what you can do if they are as slippery as you say. I am sorry your mother is contracted to someone she does not love. It is unfortunately the obligation of women to marry regardless of their feelings on the matter. I know that better than anyone."

He speaks of being comforted by being around magic and his own kind and she's reminded that they are not the same and never will be. She is nothing but a mortal woman even if being his mate means that she'll live a much longer life than she's supposed to. She'll never be the glittering creature that he is under his facade.

"Our line wouldn't breed true," Sansa says softly. "If we chose to have children. I imagine your fae wouldn't like that very much, would they?"

He undid her hair and let his fingers glide through it carefully. Slowly. Then he started brushing it out. He could play with it later all he wanted, but it was best to make sure it was untangled before he did so. "They would cage me. Healers who can do what I can are rare. They're also coveted. It means they can have all the 'toys' they want, do all the horrible things they like, and it's healed up nicely after and they can play again. A mind can only bear so much of that before it's broken. But they wouldn't care as long as it looked pretty still." He knew of another healer, a female fae, and she hadn't been seen in centuries. Before his birth. But all knew of her and that she was coveted by the High King and used to fix his broken toys. No, Rowan didn't want to end up like that. So he'd prefer to be thought of as weak and useless than show the power he had.

Her comment has him laughing, and he brushes the bristles of the brush through the crimson masses, shaking his head. "The old ones are the ones who care about purity of blood. Those born in the last millennium are more likely to try to breed with lesser fae, or find a mate among the humans. Compared to us, you all breed like rabbits." There was a smile in his voice, and he didn't sound upset by it at all. "Our children, if you ever choose to want to carry a child of mine, would be cherished. All children are. They're a gift from the Fates, especially between mates. It might just make them question keeping their bloodline so pure, they can't have children of their own anymore."

"No, the mind can handle only so much. There was someone imprisoned with me, a man who grew up in my household as a foster brother. His mind was completely broken by my husband's torture of him. In some ways, I believe he was treated even worse than I was because he wasn't needed to secure a dynasty. Ramsay could do with him whatever he liked and he did so often."

Sansa thinks of the Theon who had protected them at the Battle of Winterfell, though, the Theon who had started to remind her of the boy she grew up with. He had been a good man at the end of all things and she still mourns his loss. He was trapped same as she was and his torture was far worse than her own.

"My friend is another reason I am glad my husband is quite dead. It is Ramsay's fault that I am hesitant to have children of my own. I spent so long desperately trying not to get with child that I am a bit afraid of it, I think, and something that should be joyous inspires terror and dread in me instead. Perhaps that will change after a hundred years, yes?"

His hand paused for a moment as she said his name for the first time. Ramsey. Well, he was going to hate that name for the rest of eternity. He was quiet again as he brushed her hair, then let his fingers follow after the path the brush left. "Whether you ever want to have children or not is entirely up to you. Where I work, the land there, it's... well. Complicated. But women should have the rights to their body and if they choose to carry a child. Some places agree. Some don't. But I will never insist on you carrying a child, at all or to term if you don't want to. That doesn't mean, by the way," he said idly, still playing with her hair, "that I don't want some child of ours at some point. I think you'd be a lovely mother, and I'd be so lucky to have a child with some of you in it. But I'm mated to you, Sansa. I want what's best for you. At your own pace."

Rowan was quiet again, then toyed with a bit of hair. "I've seen far too many women forced to do things they don't want to, and what it does to their bodies. Their mental health. Children made to have children... It helps no one. It punishes the wrong ones. It shouldn't be a punishment at all."

"It is the making of children that I have to get over first," Sansa says quietly. "Because I am terrified about ever having to go through that again. I know it isn't supposed to be like that. It cannot be or people would not love one another while having multiple children. There must be some joy in it for women if they choose to engage in it. It just has never been so for me. So once I cross the first hurdle then I can contemplate the second."

His hand in her hair feels nice, sending goosebumps down her skin, and Sansa relaxes back against him. What had he said earlier? That his kind reveled in touching and being touched even if it wasn't the sort of touch that resulted in the conception of children? She draws her fingertips against his forearm.

"I will have to do it, however, because the mate...bond isn't consummated until I do it and then I might well die of old age."

"I can promise you that if you ever choose to let me love you that way, I'll show you how it's supposed to be between a man and a woman. There should be no pain- unless both parties want it. There's... layers to it, but I think those aspects of it are best left until you're comfortable with the act itself. Then you can ask me about exploring. But the first touch will be at your beckoning, and it will cause no harm. And-," he stopped brushing, touching her shoulder to get her attention, "no means no. At any point of it. Even if we were to start and it's already begun. You can change your mind and say no. I need you to know that," he said. Women in relationships like hers had been often had no say. Or if they said no, it was ignored. He'd not have her thinking he'd be like her monster of a husband.

"At your own pace," he said. "Perhaps you'll be drawn to it. Or curious. You can touch me any time you please. Anywhere you please. I've nothing to hide around you, so if you merely want to watch me be naked and shower, you may. I want you to be familiar enough with me that nothing frightens you."

"I imagine it would be very awkward for you if I simply sat and stared at you while I was wearing everything and you were wearing nothing at all," Sansa says. "I would feel as if I were on display and want to run and hide, if it were reversed."

Still, it is an appetizing prospect. She shifts a little in his arms so she can look into his face.

"But you would just let me look, truly? I've never wanted to look before so this is a completely new situation for me. I've never found anything appealing about a man before but...those circumstances had been different."

"That, my love, is because you've been objectified in the past. If you wanted me to strip down to nothing, I would. I'm at your beck and call." It may sound like overexaggerating, but he meant every bit of it. She was his mate. If she wanted him to play the fiddle naked, he would.

She looked up at him and he smiled. "How better to get you to feel comfortable than to take away whatever mystery there is? I'm a doctor. I know every part of the human body, and fae ones as well. There's no mystery for me, and I can see things clinically. You, of course, are a different story. It's all but impossible for me to look at you and think clinically. But I can behave. Still, you're a woman born in a land that favors men, and you've been ill treated. Giving you control? It's not a magic spell to cure everything, but it might help take away the fear. Or the hatred, and I wouldn't blame you for hating men if you've been harmed by them. Good thing for me, I'm not a man." He grinned and winked at her, then continued to play with her hair.

"You did perfectly fine looking at me earlier," Sansa points out. "When you were healing my wounds. You were no more interested in my body than a maester would be during an examination. I didn't think so, anyway."

Sansa thinks she would have known if he was looking at her that way and she hadn't felt that he did. She only felt he was concentrating on her injuries and not her body as an object.

"I think sharing a bed for the moment will be enough," she decides. "And perhaps a kiss, if you want to kiss me. I've been kissed before but never by anyone I wanted to kiss me. I don't even know what it feels like when you want it to happen."

"Ah, love. You've much to learn in the ways of complicated situations. I was professional because I needed to be. I need to be sure you're taken care of. What I wanted to do and what I did were two very different things." The truth. He'd give her that entirely, even if he didn't have to. He didn't want her assuming things about him or anything around them. She needed to be informed.

That bit hurt. The kissing bit. He felt that bit of sad slip in and he brushed her hair so that he could tuck it behind her ear. "I want to kiss you, but I want you to want to first. The first moves will be yours. Of course, after that, when you're comfortable with me, I'll likely pounce on you every moment I can. But for the firsts, I leave them in your capable hands. When you want to, you may."

"I wouldn't be opposed to a kiss now. Rowan, I don't even know how to kiss," Sansa admits. "Short of just sort of pressing my lips to yours and hoping for the best, I have no idea how you're supposed to do it. I was very young when I got ripped away from my mother and anyone who could have taught me about kissing was in a position to take advantage of me."

Petyr Baelish, for example, when he'd stolen a kiss from her at the Eyrie when she was fifteen. Or Ramsay, at their wedding.

"I've never kissed anyone with the expectation that it would be enjoyable."

"Then I am at your mercy, dove. Come claim a kiss." He'd not be the one to pull her to him. The need for her was something that would build the longer he was with her, and he had to make sure that when she came to him, it was at her behest. Not his desire.

But he did smile and spread his arms wide, letting her come as she wanted- or not.

Sansa is incredibly nervous about kissing him because she's never properly kissed anyone in her life but she falls into his arms and lifts one of her hands to cup his cheek. He's a very handsome man - blonde hair, warm brown eyes, a bit of a beard growing that is just enough to lend a shadow to his face.

She closes her eyes and leans in to kiss him, just a touch of her lips to his. She doesn't know how to take it further than that, she's never been taught how, but she's made the first move and claimed the kiss.

He melts as she touches him, smiling at her before she comes closer and lays one of the more innocent kisses against his lips he's felt. It's completely ingenue, and he knows that most of what they'll wind up doing together, while not her first time by far, will be the first in its pleasure. So he has that much he can give her.

His hand comes up to brush his thumb against her cheek, to cup the side of her face as she kisses him, and he leans into it. His lips barely part, but he lets his tongue slip out enough to wet her lips, to make it a kiss in truth.

Sansa isn't quite sure of what to do when he parts his lips and slips his tongue out so she mirrors his action and parts her own lips to see what he does in response. His hand on her cheek feels nice and she turns her face into it for a moment, just soaking up the touch.

It feels very intimate to be doing this even though they are both clothed because they're in a bed they intend to share and she's never slept with a man that she isn't married to.

The most important thing about it is that she does not feel objectified or used the way she has before when she's been touched by a man and that is a new and uplifting feeling. She feels wanted, more than anything, and she doesn't think she's ever had that before.

He doesn't turn the kiss into anything too much, keeping it slow and simple, but when he draws back, he's smiling at her and petting her hair. "That, my dove, is a kiss. A simple one, but one that's true. Now, before you distract me with more thoughts of what you taste like, lay your head down and get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning and we can sort out the rest of everything then, aye?"

"I imagine I just taste like anyone else," Sansa says, blushing at the implication of it. She has a general idea of what he might mean especially in combination with the kissing and she needs to put that idea to rest so she can actually rest.

"I don't want it to distract you, though, if you don't want it to," she adds. She lies back in the bed and settles herself; it's easy to get comfortable when the bed is so soft and she's warm for once.

"Are you tired?"

"Not quite. I'll likely stay up for a little while and make sure you sleep well." Fae normally don't have to sleep as much as humans, but he sometimes works himself down to where he needs to. Tonight had not been one of those nights, and he was left knowing he was going to sit quietly in wonder over the fact that after so long, he'd found the being that was his and his alone.

Now he just had to convince her he was worth staying with.

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