It's not long after they enter King's Landing at Tywin Lannister's side that Margaery brings Lady Stark into her circle of ladies. She's been betrothed to Joffrey in Sansa's place, a more fitting bride than a friendless, fatherless hostage, but she goes out of her way to win Sansa's favor. Margaery invites her to dinners and strolls and sewing sessions. Lady Sansa in turn warns Margaery of Joffrey's cruelty, a message relayed to the whole Tyrell clan.
"This is unacceptable. He is unacceptable." Mother seethes. She is pacing in Father's solar during a family meeting, fretting over Lady Sansa's dark words. Garlan watches her, stunned because he has never seen his mother so ill at ease. Father sits as his desk, frustrated by her opposition, while his grandmother the Queen of Thorns absently goes over the wedding details.
"But he is still king. We fought to make him so." Father reminds her. "Do you not wish to see our daughter become queen? Garlan, talk some sense into your mother."
Grandmother interrupts, not looking up from the piece of parchment she was reading "First he'll need to get some himself. Listen, all of you, we are an old house, but new to power. Since the Targaryens fell, the legitimacy of our hold on Highgarden grew thinner each day. If we put a king of Tyrell blood on the Iron Throne, none shall seek to challenge us."
Mother's scowl deepens, "Our bannermen are loyal, Mother. Your ambition blinds you to that fact, and your blindness is not worth Margaery's safety."
"Nor is the throne, you foolish girl?" Grandmother snaps.
Father stands up, "I'll not any more discussion on this manner. Margaery will be queen, and that is the end of it. There is another matter that has caught my attention. Lady Sansa's younger brothers, Bran and Rickon Stark, have been killed in their own castle by the ironborn. Should Robb Stark fall, and he will, for he cannot hope to defeat our alliance with the Lannisters, she will become Lady of Winterfell."
"I see." Grandmother nods. "I suppose that's another prize you want to grab before anyone else seizes the chance? Even though the North is thousands of leagues away, swarming with krakens, and on the verge of freezing over when winter comes? What a fine pick."
"Would you rather see it fall into Lannister hands? Lord Tywin has many nephews to marry Lady Sansa; he might even marry her himself or marry her to the Imp. The North is half the whole kingdom. With it, the Lannister have direct control of four of the nine regions, three of the five largest cities." Father continued irritably. "We are their allies, without whom their heads would be decorating spikes on the city wall by now. It's only fair that we even the scorecard a bit. Marrying Lady Stark to Garlan will ensure the Lannisters do not strange the realm with their pride."
"Married to me?" Garlan explains, speaking for the first time since the start of the meeting. "She's a child, not even older than Alla!"
"She's had her moonblood, or so Margaery tells me." Grandmother muses. "A bit young to carry a child, but you only need to consummate the marriage."
Garlan shakes his head. "Do you think after all she's been through she'll want to wed a stranger?"
"This isn't about what Lady Stark wants." Father snaps. "This about doing what's best our family."
"What's best for our family?" Mother huffs angrily. "I've had enough of this. I'll not sit here and listen to your plan to exploit a little girl."
Garlan was about to leave with her, when his grandmother put her white, shriveled hand on his wrist. She said, "Consider it this way: if you do not have her, one of the Lannisters will and I doubt they'll take her to bed gently. Either you take her maidenhead now and wait to have a child, or leave her to be raped until she bears a little lion that will give Winterfell to her enemies. You always did like saving helpless maidens, didn't you?"
Perhaps it is because she fears being married someone worse, but Lady Sansa enthusiastically agrees to be his bride. He warns her to stay silent on the matter, even to people she thinks were harmless. "If the Lannisters have even an inkling of what we're planning, they'll put a stop to it faster than you can blink."
Margaery's own wedding proves a perfect cover for all the planning and within a week, all the preparation have been made. Garlan takes Sansa to bride in the royal sept, his green and gold cloak replacing her white and grey one. They had to invite the Lannisters the night before avoid an irreparable insult, but either way, none of the lions are happy to see this wedding. Even with Margaery's attempt to placate him, King Joffrey is most wroth.
"He...he had the Kingsguard beat me...for his amusement." Sansa had confessed to him the night before the wedding. "At first it was only when he was angry with me or when my brother won a battle, but then he did just because he liked to see me in pain. He never touched me though. I swear, I'm still a maiden." The tears threatening to fall from her eyes bespoke the truth of her claim. Lady Sansa was not yet thirteen, small and graceful and pretty. What knight worth his oils would even think of raising a hand to her, let alone a knight of the Kingsguard?
"I believe you Sansa." When she gone from being Lady Stark to Sansa, he wondered. "And I swear to you that I will take from this horrid place as soon as it is in my power."
"But what about your sister? I cannot bear the thought of Margaery suffering what I have. She is my most closest friend, the closest thing I've had to a sister since Arya disappeared."
Garlan chuckled darkly, "You will not have to worry about Margaery, Sansa. She has Loras and our father to protect her. Our alliance with the Lannisters will be her shield."
The ceremony is brief and tense, but the feast is a bit more enjoyable. Garlan can't help but think that his little wife is unhappy with all this. After all, he is little more than a stranger to her and still officially allied with the ones who ruined her life. Her father did not walk her down the aisle because he was dead. Her mother and sister and brothers are not there with her. There are no northmen at all in the Red Keep. It hurts him to think of how alone she must feel at her own wedding.
At Garlan's own request, the bedding ceremony is skipped. He understands the purpose of it, and doesn't take issue if the brides are old enough, but Sansa is still so small and hurt, and he will not give Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing her naked. His bride undresses in the privacy of their now shared bedchamber, trembling but smiling. She gives herself to him willing, but it still feels wrong, like he should have waited for her to become a woman.
"How do you feel? Did it hurt." He asks her when it's done, when he's broken her maidenhead and spilled his seed inside her. A small amount of blood staining the sheets attests to her maidenhood, but he feels uncomfortable knowing he has caused her any measure of pain.
She blushes, still shy despite what they have just done. "A bit, but it felt...nice."
He pushed up the sleeve of her nightgown. A lump formed in his throat at the sight of half-healed bruises and faint scars. He looks Sansa in the eyes, bright and blue as the summer sky, and sees fear in them, fear of rejection. Surely she must know what a treasure she is. No-one will strike her again, he vows. Garlan pulls her close and strokes her hair. "Sleep well, my lady." He whispers as he kisses her cheek.
Sansa nearly faints at the sight of Joffrey's dead body, her knees close to giving way under her. Over and over she whispers "Oh gods...oh gods...oh gods." as if in a dream. She has a soft heart and takes no joy in his demise, despite how much he had tormented her. Her tears are wasted on him, Garlan thinks.
"I have to take my wife back to our rooms." Garlan insists. He picks Sansa up and carries her all the way to their rooms. Setting her on the edge of their bed, Garlan wipes his wife's eyes with a handkerchief, "I'm sorry you had to see that my love."
After taking a few deep breathes, Sansa calms down enough to reply, "You could not have known. He choked."
Oh sweetling, if only you knew. His grandmother plotted it, his father approved it, and he had done the deed. A poisoned crystal from Elinor's hairnet was all it took kill Joffrey Baratheon, placed in his cup by his new goodbrother. But Sansa can never knew that; his mother doesn't even know. Perhaps Sansa has a right to know, but he can't stand the thought of her knowing what he's capable of. He'll be her knight in shining armor, pure and honorable.
The Reach is as beautiful and balmy as Garlan remembered. After Margaery's second wedding, he had left King's Landing as quickly as possible with Sansa by his side (though his grandmother was there as well). The journey down the Roseroad took a few weeks, but time seemed to pass quickly. Sansa is a joy to be around, so polite and intelligent. Garlan's men are taken with her already, and the people of Reach would soon love her as well.
When they reached Highgarden, Willas and Leonette were there to greet them. Willas's leg was getting better, it seemed, before he didn't seem as tired standing up. Leonette, holding her twins by the hand, was round with child again. Leyton and Mera had grown since Garlan had last seen them and could now stand on their own.
"Uncle Gar! Uncle Gar!" They squeal happily. The twins run out of their mother's hands and up to his horse, their honey-colored curls bouncing in the sunlight.
Carefully, Garlan swings down from his mound and picks up his nephew and niece. "Hey, look at you, all grown up. Have you been good for your mother and father."
Leyton and Mera giggle, "Yes. Who's that?"
Sansa dismounts gracefully and curtsies. "Hello, my name is Lady Sansa." She looked to Garlan waiting for him to prompt her forward. "I...I'm Garlan's bride."
Leonette hugs Sansa warmly, "Welcome to Highgarden Sansa. My name of Leonette and this is my husband Willas. These are our children, Leyton and Mera. We've been telling Garlan for years to find a wife. Look at her Willas, isn't she pretty?"
"I'm please to meet you Lady Sansa. Margaery's sent us letters about you." Willas says to her with a smile.
His new wife's eyes fall to Willas's crippled leg for an instant but she quickly regains her composure. "I'm please to meet you as well, Lord Willas, Lady Leonette. Highgarden is such a beautiful place. And your children are lovely."
Mera reaches over to grab a handful of Sansa's auburn hair but is too short. "Mama, her hair! Look!"
"May I hold her?" Sansa asks and Garlan passes her his niece.
She strokes Sansa's hair and babbles, "Pretty."
"Thank you." Sansa smiles. It seems natural on her, having a child in her arms. Garlan can already imagine the children they will have, little boys and girls with his hair and her eyes. Any child would be fortunate to call her "Mother".
Fresh from the training yard, Garlan is stopped by his wife outside the door to his chambers. With uncharacteristic boldness, Sansa kisses him right there in the corridor, her hands gripping tightly to his sweat-stained undershirt. Her mouth is warm and soft, but there is tension coming off her. She feels so tiny in his arms, still very much a child, still seven years his junior.
He breaks the kiss first and ushers her inside. "Sansa...what are you doing?"
Sansa wrings her hands together, her nerve gone. "I'm shouldn't have done that. Now you're angry."
"Angry? No, not at the all. The opposite in fact." Garlan places a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'm only surprised and a bit worried. Are you alright? You seem very tense." He holds her hands and gives her time to breath.
"I'm alright." She says at last. "Just...stupid, I suppose."
"No, you're not stupid." Garlan sighs. He wonders how Lannisters have made her think that she was. He sits her down on the bed.
Eyes wide with uncertainty, Sansa finally admits, "I want to have a babe. I want us to have children."
"A babe? Sansa, we don't need to have children yet. You're still growing and-"
"You think I'm a child still." She interrupts. Garlan is stunned that Sansa, always courteous Sansa, interrupted him and she seems to be too. "Am I too young? Do you see me as a child and not truly your wife? Is that why you have not shared my bed since our wedding night?"
As much he would like to deny it, if only to make her fell better, Garlan says, "You are only thirteen. My sister is three years your senior and I can scarcely believed she's thrice wed, let alone that I've married you."
Her face crumples like he never wants to see again. Her voice is almost a whisper, "I know you didn't marry me for love, but I had hope love would grow between us. My parents had never even see each other before they were wed, but they were extraordinarily happy together."
She thinks he doesn't love her? Of course- oh gods, he loves her. "We have all the time in the world to fall in love, Sansa." He kissed her softly. "Why do you want a babe? Carrying a child at your age is dangerous. Well, its dangerous at any age."
Blushing hotly, she murmurs. "Is it? I didn't get a chance to speak with my mother about it before...Queen Cersei said soon after I had my moonblood I could give Joffrey a son."
Somehow he isn't surprised that the Lannister woman would fill her head with lies that could kill her. "Leonette was betrothed to my brother when she was your age, but they didn't get married for another five years from fear of her getting with child too early. You're still growing, despite having your moonblood. She had the twins a year later, at the perfect age for childbearing, but it still came with great risk and difficulty. You could speak more about this with her. I'm sure she'd be glad to oblige you."
Sansa's head sinks in embarrassment, but Garlan cups her cheek and tilts it upward. "You're aren't wrong for not knowing, you simply haven't been taught. When I put my cloak on you, I promised to always be by your side and I will be, even if we never have children."
"It's not just that. I'm lonely Garlan. All my family is dead," her voice broke, "and I have no-one to love. I don't have anyo-"
He crushed the words in her mouth with a firm, but sweet kiss. "You have me."