Fic: Cut it Out and then Restart 29a/31
Title: Cut it out and then Restart 29a/31
Fandom: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Sansa/Sandor
Word Count: 6279
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to GRRM.
A/N: I need to split this up once again because apparently I've lost my ability to write short chapters. Here we go *crosses fingers and toes*
Chapter 29
Sansa might not yet understand her brother’s reasons for secrecy, but she trusts him and will abide by them.
For the remaining three days until their marriage takes place, she and Sandor agree that they will do nothing that might arouse suspicion or see them exposed. Now that she has her brothers’ blessings, Sansa is content to wait, she has an entire lifetime ahead of her in which to spend with Sandor. A lifetime that will now remain untainted by the spectre of family disapproval and estrangement.
Arya is also relieved, though Sansa believes that she is perhaps also a little disappointed that now she has lost the chance for further adventure. At this stage, Robb has told them nothing about where they will settle after their wedding and so Sansa does not know if they are likely to be near or far from her family. He has promised to tell them all as soon as possible, when everything has been confirmed, and she finds herself waiting with a strange sense of anticipation.
It is difficult to keep herself from Sandor, as accustomed as she has become to stealing her time with him, those precious moments. Lovemaking is still so very new to her and she finds herself hungering for the time when they might be together again, this time with no secrecy or hurry. There is something new to discover every time she joins with him, new ways of touching each other and taking their pleasure, the sweet heady build up of pressure followed by release. There is still some pain, even now, but day by day it grows less as other feelings replace it. To be parted from him, unable to touch him, for even three days is a sweet torture, but one that she is willing to bear. They will have their bed now, have entire nights of loving, the opportunity to go sleep in each others arms and wake curled around each other.
There is nothing that might ruin Sansa’s happiness now, nothing except the disapproval of the only family member that remains to be told.
After Robb had given his approval he had dismissed them all, stating that he and Jon had matters of importance to discuss and they had gladly left. Taking a moment to survey the corridor, Sandor had clutched her to him tightly and kissed her soundly, grinning when he let her go. Even Arya had been too happy to object this time.
“It seems too good to be true.” He had commented, “But I’ll not ruin this moment by doubting it. I’ll keep myself away from you for the next three days and be ready to be claim you upon the fourth.”
His grin is positively wolfish, and Sansa cannot help herself from grinning back. She had said farewell to him with another kiss before leaving with Arya to visit her goodsister, her mother blessedly absent for the moment. Whispering, they had confided all to Talisa who had given her congratulations, exclaiming joyously and asking for details. Sansa’s goodsister pledges her intent to be at the wedding, stating that nothing would be able to keep her from it.
And now only Lady Catelyn remains to be told.
Sansa knows that this will not be such a happy task as informing Talisa, that it shall most likely be an even greater trial than securing Robb’s permission. Robb at least sees the good in Sandor and respects him, her mother has never warmed to him and likely never will. Growing up, Sansa was her mother’s pride and joy, a perfect little lady who would surely make a grand match. It is the only ambition that a mother may have for her daughters, and so it was one that Lady Catelyn had held dearly. After everything else that her lady mother has lost, Sansa knows the cruelty of taking this dream from her too.
Sansa had allowed the night to pass without informing Lady Catelyn, not wishing to sour her happiness of that day with an argument; the evening meal had been strained enough with Jon at table with them. Now the next day has dawned and Sansa knows she cannot delay for much longer with only three days left to her. She had spent the previous evening sewing the finishing touches on the gown that she plans to wear when she is wed. It is a far plainer gown than her younger self would have wished for, but Sansa is happy with it. She would gladly wear sackcloth to the ceremony if it meant that she was able to wed him.
Sansa allows herself to spend the morning happily in Robb, Jon and Arya’s company, riding out into the surrounding lands with Ghost and Grey Wind loping alongside. Together they tell old stories of happier times gone by before they were all separated, of their father and little brothers. It is a good day, a happy day, tinged with the knowledge of what has been lost and the parting that is to come when Jon must return to the Wall.
“I believe that I might take Clegane up on his offer of a sparring partner,” Jon announces when they return, leaving to ready himself with Arya excitedly following.
Robb places a hand on her shoulder, stopping Sansa when she might have followed the others.
“I will go with you to speak to Mother,” he tells her, “As much as I am loathe to face her wrath, she should hear it from my lips that I have consented to the marriage, and then you may speak to her privately.”
“Thank you, Robb.” Sansa tells him, relieved that she does not need to broach the topic on her own. Together they climb to the Lord’s Solar, and Robb sends a message for their mother to join them there.
Sansa waits anxiously. She knows that this will be a turning point in her relationship with her mother, that after this point, things may never be the same between them. She is not naïve enough to believe that Lady Catelyn will change her opinion about Sandor, or that she will be anything other than disappointed with Sansa’s decision.
When she hears the door opening, Sansa reaches out to grip Robb’s hand, suddenly dreading what is to come. She does not want to be estranged from her mother and she fears that despite Robb’s blessing, that is what it will come to. Robb pats her hand reassuringly before he lets it go.
Lady Catelyn enters with a querying look and a smile when she sees them both, and Sansa offers her a weak one in return, steeling herself for her mother’s displeasure.
“You wished to speak to me, Robb?” Lady Catelyn asks as she takes her seat and Robb nods.
“It is concerning Sansa’s future, Mother.” He tells her, “In the past we have discussed prospects for alliances and whose proposals we might consider. Yesterday I made a decision after hearing Sansa’s wishes on the matter.”
Lady Catelyn nods, waiting expectantly.
Robb pauses then and Sansa wonders if he is dreading their mother’s reaction as much as she is.
“Yesterday, Sandor Clegane asked for Sansa’s hand in marriage, and I have granted it to him.”
There is deathly silence for a moment as Lady Catelyn stares at them both, as if unable to believe it.
“Surely this is a jape, Robb?” She asks him finally, “It is certainly a bad one.”
“It is no jape, Mother.” Sansa answers quietly, “He loves me and I, him. We have waited with the hope of gaining my family’s approval for the match. Yesterday Sandor requested Robb’s blessing for us to wed and my brother has granted it.”
She looks towards Robb then, her eyes shining with love and gratefulness and he gives her a reassuring smile in return. He is again her big brother, her hero, who will do anything to ensure her happiness.
“Sansa…” Her mother begins, and then stops as if she has no idea what she should say. “How could…” She stops again just as suddenly, deciding to try a different approach. “This is madness… Sansa I realize that you’re only a girl, you don’t know the ways of the world or what you’re doing, but Robb… how could you agree to this? You must rescind your approval and tell him that it cannot be. ”
“That, I will not do.” Robb replies sternly, “I have given my word, as a Stark and as a King, and I mean to stick to it. I also had my reservations on the match when he requested her hand from me, but they have been overcome. He loves her truly, and he will be an asset as a bannerman and goodbrother. I think he shall keep her very happy.”
Sansa beams at his words, knowing now that her brother is truly accepting of the match despite his earlier objections. Just as she has slowly but surely been growing into the woman she will be, so too has Robb grown into a man, into a king. Their father would be proud of him, she knows it in her heart.
Catelyn sighs at that, her disappointment clear upon her face. “I do not know what type of a spell he has cast upon you, Robb, but skill in battle is not enough to grant a man your sister’s hand. Sansa is a princess, sister of the King in the North, she should marry into one of the highest families of the land. Clegane’s grandfather was a kennelmaster for the Lannisters. They have been landed gentry for only one generation, and he himself is not even a knight. He is rough of manner and his ill deeds are well known, and now he has seized upon the opportunity to ingratiate himself with you. You might raise him high now but he is too low born to marry Sansa and your bannermen will remember it and resent it.”
“That they may,” Robb admits, “But he has also won their respect and that is no easy feat. I know that my bannermen may resent my granting Sansa’s hand to him, and Jon has provided me a solution to that, which you will all be informed of soon. For now, what you must know is that my decision holds firm. They will be allowed to marry, and shall do so in the early morning three days from now before Jon leaves to return to the Night’s Watch. Until then I require utmost secrecy regarding the match and you are to speak of it to no one.” He stops, his expression softening as he looks at his mother earnestly. “I hope that by the time of their marriage, you will have made your peace with it and join us in the godswood to bless Sansa.”
“I do not see how such a match could be blessed.” Lady Catelyn comments bitterly, “When it is one that will cause such misery.” She turns to her daughter now to address her. “You may believe that you love him, Sansa, and it seems romantic now to pledge yourself to him because you see him as a protector and a savior, but in a year or two when that first ardour fades, you will regret it.”
“May I speak to Mother in private?” Sansa asks Robb and he rises to excuse himself, seeming relieved to do so, before he pauses at the door.
“I’m sorry that this decision has distressed you, Mother, and that it is not what you wanted, but it is final. Please do remember that this must not be discussed with anyone else for the moment.”
With that, Robb leaves and Sansa is left alone with her mother, who wears a look of stark disappointment upon her features.
“Oh Sansa,” Lady Catelyn sighs, “It is not too late to change your decision. Say the word and I will ensure that Robb ends this foolishness.”
“I do not wish to change my decision,” Sansa replies, softly entreating in her tone. “You do not like him, Mother, or believe him worthy of me. I know that. But you have never truly given him a chance, nor allowed for the possibility of him being a good man, one whom I might wish to bind myself to. Please believe me when I tell you that I love him dearly and that I know he will keep me happy. There is no doubt in my mind and the only possibility of misery would come from the denial of that.”
Lady Catelyn sighs again at this and reaches out to take Sansa’s hand. “You are still so very young, Sansa, and had a terrible experience with your first betrothal. I understand why you are drawn to him when he protected you and saved you, but that does not mean that you need to marry him. There are other men whom you might marry, men of birth more suited to your own who are fairer to look upon and younger.”
“I do not want any but him.” Sansa replies resolutely, “I have already met such men, Mother. Met them in my brother’s warhost at Riverrun and had them pay court to me and offer me flattery and I wanted not a one of them. Perhaps they might love me in time, but most were interested in my claim rather than me. What confidence could I have in such men that they would love me and protect me for the remainder of my days? I know that that is the way of it among the high houses, but it is not what I want. Sandor loves me, loves me as I am with no thought of my house or my claim. He would have willingly fled with me if it came to that, titles and lands mean nothing to him. I know that whatever occurs he will always love me and that he will never allow any harm to come to me. It is more than that… I will be valued in my marriage, an equal with him, an equal in all things rather than simply a vassal for his children.”
Sansa reaches out to take her mother’s hand and squeezes it. “I love him, Mother, I love him with every bit of my being. He is not what you wanted for me, but he is what I want for myself. I am not the girl I was when I left you at Winterfell and I no longer want those things that we dreamed together. I do not want to be a queen or even the mistress of a large castle, I want only a home, and love and family. Those are the only things of any importance in this world. It is only once I lost them that I realized the truth of that.”
She grips her mother’s hand tightly until Lady Catelyn finally looks at her properly and waits for her mother to see the truth of it in her eyes.
“I do not expect you to ever be truly happy with my match, or welcome Sandor wholeheartedly as your goodson.” Sansa tells her mother gently, “I know that that would be asking too much of you. Yet I would ask you to give him the respect due my husband and to accept this marriage and bless me on my wedding day. I love you, Mother, and I do not want this to drive a wedge between us. I do not want to be estranged from you, not when I have gone through so much to regain my family.”
Lady Catelyn is silent for a long time and Sansa watches the changing emotions across her mother’s face before she finally gives a curt nod. “I will never be happy with this match, Sansa, and I pray that you will not come to rue the day that you made it. But I have lost too much already, your father, your brothers, and I do not want to lose you too. I will bless your wedding and I will pray that you find the happiness you expect within the match. I pray that he may be worthy of you.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Sansa whispers, suddenly overcome as she reaches out to embrace Lady Catelyn. Her mother may never be happy with Sansa’s choice of a husband but at least now they will not be estranged. Sansa hopes that with time, Lady Catelyn will see the wisdom of her choice and understand Sandor’s true worth. It is a faint hope but at least now there is a chance of it.
With a gentle kiss upon her mother’s cheek and a final hug, she leaves her then, rushing down to the courtyard where she knows she will find Sandor and her siblings. Sure enough, Sandor and Jon are sparring while Robb looks on, his sword also ready and waiting for his turn. She hears Sandor’s rasping laugh as he makes some jape and then the answering ring of her siblings’ mirth; Arya’s high, ringing laugh the loudest.
She stops suddenly to watch them, overwhelmed by the feeling that rises within her. This is her family, her pack to use the term that Arya favours. They are bonded by more than simply love, and those bonds will hold strong. She need not choose between them now, need not be estranged from the family she was born into in order to be with the family that she has chosen. After everything that has happened to them it is almost too good to believe, and Sansa clutches the idea of it to herself, frozen for a moment in dread in case it should turn out to be false.
Then Robb spots her and still laughing, waves her over, and the moment has passed. Sansa joins them, smiling, seeking out Sandor’s gaze and giving him a small nod to show that all is well. His expression does not change but there is a brightness in his eyes, an almost easy happiness. It is such a change from when she first knew him, a time when his eyes were almost always filled with rage or bitterness or self-hatred. He has found peace among them, has found the man that he was meant to be, and she will always be thankful for that.
Robb begins to spar with Sandor then and Sansa settles down with Arya and Jon to watch, laughing and trading comments.
It is a strange feeling that arises in her then, one which she has not known since she was a girl of thirteen, leaving Winterfell for the first time.
A feeling of home.
Fandom: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Sansa/Sandor
Word Count: 6279
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to GRRM.
A/N: I need to split this up once again because apparently I've lost my ability to write short chapters. Here we go *crosses fingers and toes*
Chapter 29
Sansa might not yet understand her brother’s reasons for secrecy, but she trusts him and will abide by them.
For the remaining three days until their marriage takes place, she and Sandor agree that they will do nothing that might arouse suspicion or see them exposed. Now that she has her brothers’ blessings, Sansa is content to wait, she has an entire lifetime ahead of her in which to spend with Sandor. A lifetime that will now remain untainted by the spectre of family disapproval and estrangement.
Arya is also relieved, though Sansa believes that she is perhaps also a little disappointed that now she has lost the chance for further adventure. At this stage, Robb has told them nothing about where they will settle after their wedding and so Sansa does not know if they are likely to be near or far from her family. He has promised to tell them all as soon as possible, when everything has been confirmed, and she finds herself waiting with a strange sense of anticipation.
It is difficult to keep herself from Sandor, as accustomed as she has become to stealing her time with him, those precious moments. Lovemaking is still so very new to her and she finds herself hungering for the time when they might be together again, this time with no secrecy or hurry. There is something new to discover every time she joins with him, new ways of touching each other and taking their pleasure, the sweet heady build up of pressure followed by release. There is still some pain, even now, but day by day it grows less as other feelings replace it. To be parted from him, unable to touch him, for even three days is a sweet torture, but one that she is willing to bear. They will have their bed now, have entire nights of loving, the opportunity to go sleep in each others arms and wake curled around each other.
There is nothing that might ruin Sansa’s happiness now, nothing except the disapproval of the only family member that remains to be told.
After Robb had given his approval he had dismissed them all, stating that he and Jon had matters of importance to discuss and they had gladly left. Taking a moment to survey the corridor, Sandor had clutched her to him tightly and kissed her soundly, grinning when he let her go. Even Arya had been too happy to object this time.
“It seems too good to be true.” He had commented, “But I’ll not ruin this moment by doubting it. I’ll keep myself away from you for the next three days and be ready to be claim you upon the fourth.”
His grin is positively wolfish, and Sansa cannot help herself from grinning back. She had said farewell to him with another kiss before leaving with Arya to visit her goodsister, her mother blessedly absent for the moment. Whispering, they had confided all to Talisa who had given her congratulations, exclaiming joyously and asking for details. Sansa’s goodsister pledges her intent to be at the wedding, stating that nothing would be able to keep her from it.
And now only Lady Catelyn remains to be told.
Sansa knows that this will not be such a happy task as informing Talisa, that it shall most likely be an even greater trial than securing Robb’s permission. Robb at least sees the good in Sandor and respects him, her mother has never warmed to him and likely never will. Growing up, Sansa was her mother’s pride and joy, a perfect little lady who would surely make a grand match. It is the only ambition that a mother may have for her daughters, and so it was one that Lady Catelyn had held dearly. After everything else that her lady mother has lost, Sansa knows the cruelty of taking this dream from her too.
Sansa had allowed the night to pass without informing Lady Catelyn, not wishing to sour her happiness of that day with an argument; the evening meal had been strained enough with Jon at table with them. Now the next day has dawned and Sansa knows she cannot delay for much longer with only three days left to her. She had spent the previous evening sewing the finishing touches on the gown that she plans to wear when she is wed. It is a far plainer gown than her younger self would have wished for, but Sansa is happy with it. She would gladly wear sackcloth to the ceremony if it meant that she was able to wed him.
Sansa allows herself to spend the morning happily in Robb, Jon and Arya’s company, riding out into the surrounding lands with Ghost and Grey Wind loping alongside. Together they tell old stories of happier times gone by before they were all separated, of their father and little brothers. It is a good day, a happy day, tinged with the knowledge of what has been lost and the parting that is to come when Jon must return to the Wall.
“I believe that I might take Clegane up on his offer of a sparring partner,” Jon announces when they return, leaving to ready himself with Arya excitedly following.
Robb places a hand on her shoulder, stopping Sansa when she might have followed the others.
“I will go with you to speak to Mother,” he tells her, “As much as I am loathe to face her wrath, she should hear it from my lips that I have consented to the marriage, and then you may speak to her privately.”
“Thank you, Robb.” Sansa tells him, relieved that she does not need to broach the topic on her own. Together they climb to the Lord’s Solar, and Robb sends a message for their mother to join them there.
Sansa waits anxiously. She knows that this will be a turning point in her relationship with her mother, that after this point, things may never be the same between them. She is not naïve enough to believe that Lady Catelyn will change her opinion about Sandor, or that she will be anything other than disappointed with Sansa’s decision.
When she hears the door opening, Sansa reaches out to grip Robb’s hand, suddenly dreading what is to come. She does not want to be estranged from her mother and she fears that despite Robb’s blessing, that is what it will come to. Robb pats her hand reassuringly before he lets it go.
Lady Catelyn enters with a querying look and a smile when she sees them both, and Sansa offers her a weak one in return, steeling herself for her mother’s displeasure.
“You wished to speak to me, Robb?” Lady Catelyn asks as she takes her seat and Robb nods.
“It is concerning Sansa’s future, Mother.” He tells her, “In the past we have discussed prospects for alliances and whose proposals we might consider. Yesterday I made a decision after hearing Sansa’s wishes on the matter.”
Lady Catelyn nods, waiting expectantly.
Robb pauses then and Sansa wonders if he is dreading their mother’s reaction as much as she is.
“Yesterday, Sandor Clegane asked for Sansa’s hand in marriage, and I have granted it to him.”
There is deathly silence for a moment as Lady Catelyn stares at them both, as if unable to believe it.
“Surely this is a jape, Robb?” She asks him finally, “It is certainly a bad one.”
“It is no jape, Mother.” Sansa answers quietly, “He loves me and I, him. We have waited with the hope of gaining my family’s approval for the match. Yesterday Sandor requested Robb’s blessing for us to wed and my brother has granted it.”
She looks towards Robb then, her eyes shining with love and gratefulness and he gives her a reassuring smile in return. He is again her big brother, her hero, who will do anything to ensure her happiness.
“Sansa…” Her mother begins, and then stops as if she has no idea what she should say. “How could…” She stops again just as suddenly, deciding to try a different approach. “This is madness… Sansa I realize that you’re only a girl, you don’t know the ways of the world or what you’re doing, but Robb… how could you agree to this? You must rescind your approval and tell him that it cannot be. ”
“That, I will not do.” Robb replies sternly, “I have given my word, as a Stark and as a King, and I mean to stick to it. I also had my reservations on the match when he requested her hand from me, but they have been overcome. He loves her truly, and he will be an asset as a bannerman and goodbrother. I think he shall keep her very happy.”
Sansa beams at his words, knowing now that her brother is truly accepting of the match despite his earlier objections. Just as she has slowly but surely been growing into the woman she will be, so too has Robb grown into a man, into a king. Their father would be proud of him, she knows it in her heart.
Catelyn sighs at that, her disappointment clear upon her face. “I do not know what type of a spell he has cast upon you, Robb, but skill in battle is not enough to grant a man your sister’s hand. Sansa is a princess, sister of the King in the North, she should marry into one of the highest families of the land. Clegane’s grandfather was a kennelmaster for the Lannisters. They have been landed gentry for only one generation, and he himself is not even a knight. He is rough of manner and his ill deeds are well known, and now he has seized upon the opportunity to ingratiate himself with you. You might raise him high now but he is too low born to marry Sansa and your bannermen will remember it and resent it.”
“That they may,” Robb admits, “But he has also won their respect and that is no easy feat. I know that my bannermen may resent my granting Sansa’s hand to him, and Jon has provided me a solution to that, which you will all be informed of soon. For now, what you must know is that my decision holds firm. They will be allowed to marry, and shall do so in the early morning three days from now before Jon leaves to return to the Night’s Watch. Until then I require utmost secrecy regarding the match and you are to speak of it to no one.” He stops, his expression softening as he looks at his mother earnestly. “I hope that by the time of their marriage, you will have made your peace with it and join us in the godswood to bless Sansa.”
“I do not see how such a match could be blessed.” Lady Catelyn comments bitterly, “When it is one that will cause such misery.” She turns to her daughter now to address her. “You may believe that you love him, Sansa, and it seems romantic now to pledge yourself to him because you see him as a protector and a savior, but in a year or two when that first ardour fades, you will regret it.”
“May I speak to Mother in private?” Sansa asks Robb and he rises to excuse himself, seeming relieved to do so, before he pauses at the door.
“I’m sorry that this decision has distressed you, Mother, and that it is not what you wanted, but it is final. Please do remember that this must not be discussed with anyone else for the moment.”
With that, Robb leaves and Sansa is left alone with her mother, who wears a look of stark disappointment upon her features.
“Oh Sansa,” Lady Catelyn sighs, “It is not too late to change your decision. Say the word and I will ensure that Robb ends this foolishness.”
“I do not wish to change my decision,” Sansa replies, softly entreating in her tone. “You do not like him, Mother, or believe him worthy of me. I know that. But you have never truly given him a chance, nor allowed for the possibility of him being a good man, one whom I might wish to bind myself to. Please believe me when I tell you that I love him dearly and that I know he will keep me happy. There is no doubt in my mind and the only possibility of misery would come from the denial of that.”
Lady Catelyn sighs again at this and reaches out to take Sansa’s hand. “You are still so very young, Sansa, and had a terrible experience with your first betrothal. I understand why you are drawn to him when he protected you and saved you, but that does not mean that you need to marry him. There are other men whom you might marry, men of birth more suited to your own who are fairer to look upon and younger.”
“I do not want any but him.” Sansa replies resolutely, “I have already met such men, Mother. Met them in my brother’s warhost at Riverrun and had them pay court to me and offer me flattery and I wanted not a one of them. Perhaps they might love me in time, but most were interested in my claim rather than me. What confidence could I have in such men that they would love me and protect me for the remainder of my days? I know that that is the way of it among the high houses, but it is not what I want. Sandor loves me, loves me as I am with no thought of my house or my claim. He would have willingly fled with me if it came to that, titles and lands mean nothing to him. I know that whatever occurs he will always love me and that he will never allow any harm to come to me. It is more than that… I will be valued in my marriage, an equal with him, an equal in all things rather than simply a vassal for his children.”
Sansa reaches out to take her mother’s hand and squeezes it. “I love him, Mother, I love him with every bit of my being. He is not what you wanted for me, but he is what I want for myself. I am not the girl I was when I left you at Winterfell and I no longer want those things that we dreamed together. I do not want to be a queen or even the mistress of a large castle, I want only a home, and love and family. Those are the only things of any importance in this world. It is only once I lost them that I realized the truth of that.”
She grips her mother’s hand tightly until Lady Catelyn finally looks at her properly and waits for her mother to see the truth of it in her eyes.
“I do not expect you to ever be truly happy with my match, or welcome Sandor wholeheartedly as your goodson.” Sansa tells her mother gently, “I know that that would be asking too much of you. Yet I would ask you to give him the respect due my husband and to accept this marriage and bless me on my wedding day. I love you, Mother, and I do not want this to drive a wedge between us. I do not want to be estranged from you, not when I have gone through so much to regain my family.”
Lady Catelyn is silent for a long time and Sansa watches the changing emotions across her mother’s face before she finally gives a curt nod. “I will never be happy with this match, Sansa, and I pray that you will not come to rue the day that you made it. But I have lost too much already, your father, your brothers, and I do not want to lose you too. I will bless your wedding and I will pray that you find the happiness you expect within the match. I pray that he may be worthy of you.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Sansa whispers, suddenly overcome as she reaches out to embrace Lady Catelyn. Her mother may never be happy with Sansa’s choice of a husband but at least now they will not be estranged. Sansa hopes that with time, Lady Catelyn will see the wisdom of her choice and understand Sandor’s true worth. It is a faint hope but at least now there is a chance of it.
With a gentle kiss upon her mother’s cheek and a final hug, she leaves her then, rushing down to the courtyard where she knows she will find Sandor and her siblings. Sure enough, Sandor and Jon are sparring while Robb looks on, his sword also ready and waiting for his turn. She hears Sandor’s rasping laugh as he makes some jape and then the answering ring of her siblings’ mirth; Arya’s high, ringing laugh the loudest.
She stops suddenly to watch them, overwhelmed by the feeling that rises within her. This is her family, her pack to use the term that Arya favours. They are bonded by more than simply love, and those bonds will hold strong. She need not choose between them now, need not be estranged from the family she was born into in order to be with the family that she has chosen. After everything that has happened to them it is almost too good to believe, and Sansa clutches the idea of it to herself, frozen for a moment in dread in case it should turn out to be false.
Then Robb spots her and still laughing, waves her over, and the moment has passed. Sansa joins them, smiling, seeking out Sandor’s gaze and giving him a small nod to show that all is well. His expression does not change but there is a brightness in his eyes, an almost easy happiness. It is such a change from when she first knew him, a time when his eyes were almost always filled with rage or bitterness or self-hatred. He has found peace among them, has found the man that he was meant to be, and she will always be thankful for that.
Robb begins to spar with Sandor then and Sansa settles down with Arya and Jon to watch, laughing and trading comments.
It is a strange feeling that arises in her then, one which she has not known since she was a girl of thirteen, leaving Winterfell for the first time.
A feeling of home.