you just have to see her to know that she'll break you in two
As the afternoon wore on, Sandor found himself returning to the thought that had occupied his mind for much of the last two days; a thought which was not so much a thought as a series of thoughts and feelings that were jumbled and tangled to the point where he could barely tell one from the other. His new outlook on life had not only put him in an unshakeable good mood, it had helped him to realize how remiss he'd been in telling the people around him how much they meant to him. He'd made some inroads; some had been cruelly rebuffed, others warmly returned, still others met with plain curiosity. But each exchange left him vaguely dissatisfied, knowing there was someone he hadn't yet spoken to, the person who most deserved to hear his true feelings from his own lips, and yet the one person who he had the least right to speak to in such a way.
Marriage was a sacred bond, one that no two people should enter lightly, and Sandor knew Sansa also believed that to be true. He knew she loved her husband. But he couldn't keep himself from revisiting his worries-- his fears, in truth, he would call them what they were-- that one of them would leave the island before he'd found the courage to speak his heart. He meant something to her, of that he had at last become convinced, even if it was only a small feeling borne of sentiment and pity. She'd never have become his friend if she didn't genuinely wish it, would have been content for him to remain a familiar yet distant figure in her life here. She'd let him meet her daughter, something for which he was still at a loss for words to express his gratitude. And though they took care with how they spoke to each other, formality sometimes straining their talk near to the point of awkwardness, he thought he might finally be able to believe she trusted him.
He would have to trust her, now, not to misread him when he spoke, not to think he was trying to take her from her family. He would never ask that of her, nor accept it if she offered. He would have to trust she would understand; he didn't expect anything to change after this. But he would not be able to sleep another night through with the weight still on his mind, that Sansa Stark still didn't know he loved her.
[dated late afternoon, May 1st. let him find her wherever you like. :)]
Marriage was a sacred bond, one that no two people should enter lightly, and Sandor knew Sansa also believed that to be true. He knew she loved her husband. But he couldn't keep himself from revisiting his worries-- his fears, in truth, he would call them what they were-- that one of them would leave the island before he'd found the courage to speak his heart. He meant something to her, of that he had at last become convinced, even if it was only a small feeling borne of sentiment and pity. She'd never have become his friend if she didn't genuinely wish it, would have been content for him to remain a familiar yet distant figure in her life here. She'd let him meet her daughter, something for which he was still at a loss for words to express his gratitude. And though they took care with how they spoke to each other, formality sometimes straining their talk near to the point of awkwardness, he thought he might finally be able to believe she trusted him.
He would have to trust her, now, not to misread him when he spoke, not to think he was trying to take her from her family. He would never ask that of her, nor accept it if she offered. He would have to trust she would understand; he didn't expect anything to change after this. But he would not be able to sleep another night through with the weight still on his mind, that Sansa Stark still didn't know he loved her.
[dated late afternoon, May 1st. let him find her wherever you like. :)]