Sansa loved the church, she had only been attending Mass there regularly for a few months. She had only been living in this town for a short time. It was her escape, her refuge. Her fiancé would allow her some time alone to go to Mass, so she got precious relief, quiet time, darkness, songs and memories of her happy childhood would flood her mind. Sometimes she could blot it out and focus on the prayers. She prayed but she wasn't sure for what exactly. She wasn't mistreated. Her fiancé was gentle, but he was disinterested in her (how could that possibly be, she wondered), their marriage made sense, but it was not a marriage of love. She was bored and lonely. Going to church gave her a reason to get up in the morning. It encouraged her to get dressed and look "the part".
She felt badly for the priest. He so wanted to be her confidant of sorts. He was friendly enough, but Sansa wasn't in a position to have close friends. The massive handyman made her nervous. She could tell he was a con, ex-con whatever. It didn't matter, he made her uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, it was not because of his appearance, but his eyes. He would look at her, through her and she felt as if she had bared her soul without saying a word. It was disconcerting.
It started as an ordinary day; most days were like all the others. This one was different and it was the catalyst for the change in things to come. While Sansa was going through the motions of the Mass, she must have locked her knees. She had been running late that morning and had skipped breakfast. The combination of these two things caused her to faint. Luckily for Sansa, Sandor had been quietly standing in the alcove near her. She always sat near the back, close to the confessionals. He was close enough, he could smell her, but not so much that he was breathing down her neck (no matter how much he wanted to). He saw her wobble and sway. He rushed into the pew and caught her gently, before she cracked her head on the pew. He tenderly lifted her up and took her to the back of the church, into one of the meeting rooms.
She was a tiny little thing; tall, but slender. He saw her eyelids flutter as he carried her to the couch. This was the room where engaged couples would sit on the couch and talk to the priest about marriage and marital duties and all that goes on in the pre-wedding glow. Ha-ha, before the gowns and the gloves come off. Anyway, it was convenient; he could put her on the couch. He got her a small cup of water.
When he came back into the room, she was still lying there, looking around a little dazed.
"Are you alright?" He asked her.
Her eyes were wide, with confusion and general malaise.
She gasped for her answer, which was misconstrued.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Sandor mumbled "I just didn't want you to pass out and hit your head and get blood all over my nicely polished floor. We've got a wedding tomorrow."
He saw that she was sitting up and would be fine, even if she was still looking confused. He looked at her sadly and walked away.