"You said you wouldn't hurt me." Sansa's eyes flitted from Sandor's down to the floor as she played with the end of her curled red hair with one hand. She kept her other fanned between her legs, covering the auburn hair between her thighs. She was shaking, though for fear of her bedding or of the Hound's size, she could not be sure. She had heard the whispers at court. He'll tear her open. He's not a man; he's a beast.
Sandor's voice was gruff, but not violent or unfriendly. "And I won't." The Hound looked hungry, like a man who hadn't seen food in weeks, but Sansa had seen him eat enough for three men at their wedding feast. He looked at her breasts, but averted his eyes quickly. "I won't hurt you; I promise." Sandor took hold of Sansa's hand and pulled her over to the bed, directly in front of him. She's so small. He towered over her, facing the four-poster bed draped in Lannister crimson and gold. Her head only reached his chest, and he could easily wrap his hands around her waist. Firmly, he placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her into a seated position on the edge of the bed. "For now, we sleep. You're pale, girl, and I've had too much wine. The bedding can wait."
Sansa did not show the relief she felt. "Thank you, my lord." She got to her feet and pulled a thin sleeping gown over her head before climbing back into the enormous bed. Despite the Hound's size, Sansa would able to curl up on her side without touching her husband.
Sansa saw a flash of anger in Sandor's eyes. "Don't call me that. I am no lord." I have angered him,thought Sansa. I must remember. Sandor removed his clothing save his smallclothes, for fear of offending his young bride. Sansa couldn't help but look at him. She had never seen a man so bare. He is my husband after all. His arms and chest was strong and muscled, though scarred from years of combat and training. His back and shoulders were broad with one long diagonal scar running from shoulder to waist. The Hound has been fighting since he could walk. He's built for it.
Sandor saw her looking. Scowling, he pulled his long, black hair back down over the ruined half of his face before turning back toward the bed. His new wife, knees tucked to her chest, was lying on her side on the very edge, facing the inside of the bed. She would not mock him, he knew as much. The girl was unfailingly polite. He'd had to goad her to elicit even the smallest response in the past. His little bird only sang sweet songs.
He lowered himself into the bed beside her, settling in on his back with his arms tucked behind his head. He felt her stirring, and she turned over toward him before he heard her ask, "Is my lord husband comfortable?" She doesn't know what to do… how this is supposed to go. She's such a young thing.Sandor nodded his head a bit, and Sansa seemed satisfied.
Sansa sat up meekly, combing her hair behind her left ear with one hand while turning to face Sandor. She glanced over at him before becoming shy and looking down at her hands, now folded neatly in her lap. How do I thank him for denying himself what he is owed by right? I am his.She began fidgeting with the fine bedspread nervously and spoke with a quivering voice. "Thank you for being kind. It is more than what is owed to me."
Sandor glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "Best go to sleep, girl, or I might be tempted to be less kind." Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't reply. She just moved away and went back to her initial position, back facing him. Shuddering, he took several deep breaths before closing his eyes and trying to forget his husband's right and the stiffening in his smallclothes. I promised I wouldn't hurt her, and I won't.