Their wedding reception dinner was small, which they both seemed to prefer anyways. They were served elk meatballs stuffed with goat cheese, game hens with garlic and gravy, onion and potato pie, and small peach cakes, topped off with wine from the Arbor. It was a modest meal; one well suited for a traitor's daughter and the king's loyal dog.
Sansa shifted nervously next to her husband the whole reception, picking at the food on her plate. As delicious as the food might had been, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep it down without wretching from nervousness. For a man the size of The Hound, he didn't seem very interested in the food in front of him, or the wine for that matter. Throughout the dinner she often caught Margery's gaze, giving her looks of consolation. Shae was also nowhere to be found. When she accidentally caught Joffrey's gaze, the corner's of his lips would raise into his signature, cruel smile. Joffrey then stood, and then stammered, seeming to have too much to drink.
"It's about time we had that bedding ceremony!" Joffrey clapped. Everyone in attendance cheered, and Sansa saw the queen laugh to herself.
"To bed! To bed! To bed!"
Her husband then abruptly rose from his seat, knocking over a goblet of wine, and starling Sansa.
"Anyone who touches the little bird wishes he never lived."
The room went silent under The Hounds threat.
"But dog, it's tradition! There will be a bedding!" Joffery whined.
"Bedding ceremonies are for buggering high-lords who don't know where to put it in a woman. I'll see to her myself."
With that, The Hound lifted Sansa up and hoisted her over his shoulder, and walked down from the dais. Sansa audibly gasped, completely surprised by The Hound's reaction. Her face felt like it was burning, never before in her entire life was she this embarrassed. The Hound held her firmly on her bottom as carried her out of the reception hall. She squeezed her eyes shut, in hopes that she could keep the tears at bay.
Joffery clapped, the audience laughed and hollered as the fiercest fighters in all of Westeros carried his little-bird of a wife off to bed.
He was completely silent as he carried her to her chambers. The silence making Sansa even more uncomfortable, after a minuet or two she spoke: "Uh, ser, you can put me down now, I can walk on my-"
"I'm no ser." He replied with a grunt. The Hound swiftly carried his little wife all the way to her chamber doors, Sansa's heart threatening to beat out of her chest all the way. He kicked open the door without a single hint of grace, and lifted her down off of him. Sansa looked down at her feet, seemingly unable to move. The Hound noticed how long her eyelashes were, and how her soft, plump, lips trembled. Was is anticipation? No, fear.
"I'll be back. Undress into just your small clothes."
For the first moment all day, Sansa was alone. She sighed, trying to shake some of the nerves off and went to go undress on her bed. Our bed, she corrected. Her hands shook as she tried to undo the laces of her dress. What if I tell him no? What if I tell him that I would feel more comfortable if.. Sansa laughed at the thought. She could practically hear his laughter. I will most definitely be bedded tonight. I'll be Sansa Clegane in truth. Her wedding gown pooled around her feet, and she sat in nothing but her small clothes as she waited for her lord husband to come bed her.
Sansa jumped as the door was kicked open, again. I will have to get used to that I suppose. She cast her eyes down onto the fidgeting hands in her lap. The Hound closed the door and seemed to stay in the doorway for a few moments.
He took the opportunity to devour her with his eyes. This won't be happening again anytime soon, he thought to himself. He watched her auburn hair glow from the flickering firelight, and the flames seemed to lick her ivory skin. He could see the full roundness of her breast, her hard, pink nipples, the curve of her hips, and her long slender legs. He felt himself grow painfully hard as he stepped forward.
Sansa then looked up, her expression matching a frightened animal in the shadow of her prey. Predator and prey. A little bird caught in the jaws of an ugly, old, hound. Her expression then changed to shock, The Hound was wearing his signature black armor. Is this some sort of joke? She thought.
"My lord, why are you-?" He moved closer to her, Sansa's body instantly stiffening. Surely he didn't intend to bed her wearing his armor. He kneeled down next to her, and reached under her bed, as if he was searching for something.
"My lord?"
"Here, put this on. All your valuables are already packed. We're leaving."
Sansa felt a warm, woolen dress in her lap. Wool stockings and riding boots at her feat.
"What do you mean? Where are we going? What about the bedding?"
"There will be no bedding. We're leaving this bloody keep for good. Be quick about it, I don't want to run into trouble."
She couldn't believe her ears. Without a word, she complied. Awkwardly, she dressed, fumbling just as much as she did when she undressed just moments ago. The Hound then held out a fur cloak to her, demurely, Sansa took the cloak and wrapped it around herself. Clothes such as these could only mean one thing: North. He was taking her north.
"My lord, I-"
"Are you ready?" He cut her off.
"Yes."
"We can't waste anymore time. We must fly."
Sansa followed The Hound through the Red Keep, going through different rooms and backdoors. Her gaze was fixed on his back and shoulders, almost unable to keep up with his long strides. The full moon hung low in the sky, illuminating his large form. Once Sansa may have thought escaping in the moonlight would have been romantic, but The Hound was no Florian, nor Dragonknight.
He's saving me all the same.
Their wedding party could be heard across the keep, laughing, drinking. As the whole keep thought they were currently consummating the marriage, the bride and groom swiftly made their way to the stables.
"My lord, please-" Sansa stopped, utterly out of breath, as she leaned against a pillar.
"What? We can't stop. What do you think will happen if someone finds us, hmm?" The Hound grabbed her arm, about to lift her up.
"My lord, please." Sansa said, pushing a hand to his chest.
"What?" He spat.
"Thank-you." Sansa made sure to look up at him, to meet his stare.
"I don't need your thank-you's. Now let's go."
"Thank-you.." Sansa paused. "Thank-you for always saving me. Now, and then."
"You're not saved quite yet."
With that The Hound lifted her up on her shoulders for a second time that night, and once they reached the stables, placed her sideways atop his large warhorse, Stranger. Sansa was surprised to see that the horse was already saddled, with bedrolls and provisions.
"How did you do all this?" She asked as The Hound saddled Stranger. Sandor grabbed the reins from in front of her, and their position almost felt like an embrace.
"Your little handmaiden helped."
With that the couple burst out the stable door, and into the moonlit night.
Home, she was going home.
Notes:
They way food is described in ASoIaF makes my stomach howl (even though I'm a vegetarian.) And in the TV show it looks even more delicious. I hope Sansa and Sandor's wedding meal sounds authentic enough.
No bedding! I hope you're not too disappointed, but I promise there will be one, eventually that is. Please take into account that this fanfic is going to be a longfic / slow-burn type.
I really liked the idea of Shae and Sandor working together to somehow get both of them out of the capital safe.