It was a beautiful day. Again. Spring was upon them in truth, no doubt about it. Since the little bird’s maidenhead’s sacrifice, there had been but a few days of mild rain, just enough to help wash off the few inches of snow that remained on the forest floor. The air was warm and smelled of damp earth and all across the woods, colourful flowers were beginning to pierce the ground. There was excitement in the air, an atmosphere of exultation and merriness.
And there had been no lack of celebration at the village lately indeed. For the first moon following the sacrifice, there had been a banquet everyday with plenty of food, drinks and wild herbs for everyone and a feast had been organised every week after that. People were joyous and carried their daily chores with lightness and good humour, as if all of life’s hardships were but a distant memory and not likely ever to come back.
Yet today, the whole clan was on tenterhooks, for the Summer Maid would finally be allowed back to the village. Unlike Sandor, the little bird had been kept in the Forest Temple for the past three moons and thus not been able to join in the festivities that had followed the ceremony. The priestesses had looked after her as they waited to see just how successful their offering to the gods had been. In the meantime, no one had been allowed contact with her apart from her parents on a few chosen occasions - not even the Elders had been permitted to visit her.
While everything had gone to perfection during the ceremony itself, there was one last detail that could go one way or the other and over which the quality of Sandor’s performance could hardly have had any true influence - no matter what some pretended when he had his back turned. Today, everyone of the tribe would learn even as Sandor did just how much of a triumph the ritual sacrifice of the little bird’s maidenhead had been. Gathered just outside of the Forest Temple, they all waited for her to step out, ready to greet her back into the clan and escort her to the village where a feast would be held.
All were impatient to see in which state the girl would be, Sandor being no exception. Some men had even wagered about it and kept arguing with one another over the most likely outcome at the back of the press. They were laughing and yelling and barely made any buggering sense, which was really not surprising seeing how they’d kept smoking wild herbs and drinking spruce ale for the past half hour. While they irritated him to no end, Sandor did his best to hide it lest they noticed it and tried to goad him into a fight as they would probably enjoy a little too much. Sandor wanted to give the little bird his entire attention and would not allow himself to get distracted by some dirty bastard trying to challenge his virility.
“One way or another, you did well, Sandor,” Orog told him. The old man reached up to pat his shoulder and smiled at him, his weathered face wrinkling all the more.
Sandor’s mouth twitched, yet he nodded at him nonetheless. He couldn’t help but not hate Orog in spite of him being of the Elder’s Council. How could he when the man had done nothing but encourage him in this whole endeavour from the very start? He’d been supportive and still was, had wanted him to be the little bird’s Horned Man even though Sandor indisputably lacked the faith in the gods one might expect from someone bearing the title. And now, he kept implying his work was not over, that it was only the beginning in fact... to which Sandor agreed .
In the meantime, he couldn’t wait to see Sansa again. It had been three whole moons since he had taken her purity for all to see. Sandor wished he could do it again - not take her purity but take her . Those three moons had been so damned interminable… To add to that, with the way he’d been intoxicated on those bloody mushrooms, Sandor sadly didn’t remember the sacrifice in as much detail as he’d have liked. The little bird had been in one hell of a state too, though she’d seemed to enjoy herself well enough. Sandor had recalled those images of her squirming and moaning under him, of her eagerly straddling him, over and over again throughout those endless past three moons. Often, he had taken himself in hand as he did, trying to picture how it would be to have her by his side, naked in his bed...
She had come. Nila, the head priestess, had said as much after the ceremony, professing to all that could hear how good of an omen it was. Sandor almost snorted at the memory. Only a man both blind and deaf wouldn’t have known the little bird had reached completion. Her moans had been loud and beautiful, her pleasure written all over her face and body. And besides, Sandor had not only witnessed her climax, he’d felt it. Her insides had squeezed his cock so tightly, he couldn’t have lasted an instant longer even if he had willed it. But he hadn’t. He’d been instructed to aim to peak just after the Summer Maid and he had gladly obliged. He had been so bloody aroused... If it had not been for the herbal tea the priests have brewed him, Sandor was convinced he’d have lost it and spilled his seed from his very first shove in her. Or even worse, from the instant she took his cock in her mouth. The Others be damned... Now that would’ve been humiliating to say the least.
“People of the tribe,” Nila’s voice called at last, taking Sandor out of his musing. “Come and see your Summer Maid.”
The crowd grew quiet at once, though expectant murmurs could still be heard, and all turned towards the Temple’s entrance. His heart racing, Sandor crossed his arms stiffly over his chest as he waited, his mouth twitching. He could sense the stares of some of the crowd on him, his reaction arousing their curiosity just as much as the Summer Maid’s state.
And then Sansa was there, a vision in the threshold of the large wooden door that led to the Temple’s garden. Cheers resounded through the clearing from the instant she appeared. She was as striking as could be. Her dress was white, made of hide and embroidered with colourful flowers and her pretty red hair fell loosely all the way to her waist. But what caught the eyes of all was how rounded her stomach had grown already. His seed had quickened, Sandor realised, a grin spreading on his lips. A child had been conceived during the ceremony.
All around Sandor, people were shouting and congratulating him. There were so many hands clapping him on the back and arms he couldn’t even tell whose they were, but it didn’t matter. Sandor was too ecstatic and proud to care about much. Caressing her newly swollen belly, the little bird briefly met his stare and smiled shyly when Sandor winked at her before quickly averting her eyes. Gods, but she was too fucking fetching...
I’ll get her to be my wife, whatever it takes, he vowed.
The courting could now begin.