AN: Hey, sorry it's been a while – went from having nothing else to do to being super busy! Also was unsure how far I wanted to go with this chapter before moving onto a new one. But here is the wedding! (Well, most of it) Thank you to those who are bearing with, it's greatly appreciated.
Tanith
"It's smudged. Do it all again." Cersei demanded, hovering close behind Shae who was dabbing Tanith's face with rouge.
"Her kohl as well, your Grace?" Shae asked. The queen nodded and returned to her desk, pouring herself a third glass of wine. They had been getting ready for the wedding in the queen's study all morning. Cersei half-heartedly raised the glass in offer to Tanith, who for the third time declined.
"You could probably use it, on a day like today," the queen scoffed and took a gulp. "One's wedding day is supposed to be the happiest… mine was, until the sun went down and the celebrations died and I realised what I had actually married." Tanith took her eyes away from Shae's concentrated expression and watched Cersei's gaze loom into a distant memory she did not want anyone to see. Tanith wanted to vomit. The queen knew what it was like to be thrust into a situation like this. She once felt what Tanith was feeling now: the rising of bile in her stomach and goose bumps covering her skin despite the stifling day in the capital. Having to put on a pretty white dress that would later be violently torn from her quivering body as she had to lay down and consummate a marriage to the biggest brute in Westeros.
"Do you have any advice for me, your Grace?" Tanith asked almost mockingly. Cersei was too tipsy to notice. She snapped from her daydream and stood, facing the window.
"Do what you are told." She said so quietly Tanith almost did not hear her, but she did. She also heard the sinister sentiment it carried.
Tanith changed her mind about the wine, and abruptly strode over to the desk to pour herself a goblet. Cersei turned and watched as she took three large gulps, before replenishing her glass. The queen's mouth formed a small smile, but Tanith looked into her eyes and saw something she had never seen in the queen's eyes before: sympathy.
"You are right, your Grace, this was what I needed," Tanith took another swig and returned to her seat. "Are we almost done?"
Shae nodded, and added one more dash of rouge to her cheeks. "I had to put a little more on, Lady Tanith. You were rather pale today."
"Haven't been eating much."
"No, you really should try to eat something before the ceremony." Shae suggested.
Tanith shrugged, stood and flattened out the front of her undergarment. "Let's dress me, then."
"You look beautiful, my lady." Shae smiled at Tanith through the mirror, and Tanith returned it. She looked at herself, slowly moving her eyes from the elegant trim of her dress up to her hair, which had been styled in her own way with her dragonfly clasp glinting between locks of brown and auburn. The dress was plain, but had been embroidered with a simple swirl of tiny flowers covering the trim and some of the bust, and one sleeve. It was detailed, but not overly festive. Tanith really loved the dress, and felt briefly happy looking at her reflection.
She was interrupted by the arrival of Jaime Lannister and Sandor. Jaime's dashing smile brought a little light into the room, at least.
"My lady, you are a vision," he took her hand and planted a small kiss upon it. Tanith was grateful for the rouge to disguise her blushing. "Truly beautiful."
"Thank you, Ser Jaime," she curtseyed, and managed a modest smile. "Is it you who is to escort me today?"
Jaime shook his head, and looked genuinely disappointed. "The man who has been given that honour is right beside me." Jaime gestured to Sandor.
"My lady."
"Clegane."
Tanith guessed that Joffrey had organised this to antagonise the lie about Sandor's proposal and to humiliate him against his brother. She almost rolled her eyes, but instead took Sandor's giant arm with a stiff smile.
Cersei clapped her hands together. "We shall go to the hall, and take our seats. You shall follow when you are called." She flashed Tanith one more smile before leaving with her twin. Shae planted a soft kiss on Tanith's cheek.
"My lady, I…" Tears began to well furiously in Shae's eyes. Tanith grabbed her hands.
"Shae, it will be okay," Tanith felt her own eyes burning with tears ready to burst out, but she contained them with all her strength. "I have got to be strong, now, and that means that you do too."
"I know, my lady," she sighed, looking at the floor ashamed. "I will not see you again, once you go to the Westerlands."
"Perhaps not, Shae, but I will always remember you." Tanith kissed her hand, and returned to Sandor who was standing awkwardly.
"R-ready?" he grunted. She nodded, and took his arm. They stood, in their stoic position side by side, for what felt like hours.
"When will you give me it?" she whispered. Sandor almost jumped, startled by the silence they had stood in. He looked down at her, at first confused but then he seemed to remember their conversation the previous night.
"Has to be later," he said. "I'm sorry."
"What is it?"
Sandor shook his head. "All you need to know now is that I'm gonna help you."
Tanith sighed, and squeezed his arm a little tighter. In spite of her experience in the capital, the people who had betrayed her, lied to her and mistreated her, she knew that he would not disappoint her. Sandor Clegane was the only person who was honest with her and whose words actually meant something. There was Warren, when he finally saw sense, but where was he now? There was Tyrion, who was undoubtedly kind, but he was still one of them. Clegane was part of no one, not even his own family. He was just him. And he was the only one Tanith could trust.
A voice echoed through the room from the corridor, and Sandor pulled on Tanith's arm lightly. "It's time."
Tanith was startled by the number of people in the hall, all eyes on her and Sandor as they entered the doors. She did not even look at the altar for a few minutes, instead soaking in all the strange eyes staring, judging, mocking her. She was marrying the Mountain after all.
Then she remembered. The Mountain. There he stood, his enormous back turned to her, facing forward ardently. It was like he was refusing to turn and look upon his bride. Her eyes felt sore from the furious glare of the yellow cloak draped across him. The three black dogs snarled at Tanith, making the bile rise within her again. She grabbed on tighter to Sandor, and could feel his body tense as they neared the altar, and his brother. And the point where he would let her go.
Eventually they stopped, and Tanith only then noticed the sound of the musicians plucking and strumming in the background. Rains of Castamere. What else.
"I do." Sandor grunted, and knocked the song from Tanith's ears. She looked at him, and realised that he had been asked if he wished to present the bride. She was about to let go of his arm, when he grabbed it back for a little longer. He gave her a hungry look, his eyes baring into her briefly yet so intensely that she suddenly felt naked. After the briefest of moments, his arm let hers fall. She walked over to Gregor, who was now looking at her. She thought he'd be smirking, but he looked completely emotionless. Almost as if he could not see her.
"Cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection."
Gregor swung the massive cloak around Tanith, the swift action creating a draft which cut through her spine. She grimaced as he tightened the cloak around her, and felt it enveloping her. She couldn't breathe.
They hurried through the words as she was desperate to release her hand from his, despising the symbolism of being bound together by the ribbon. The uproar of applause startled her as she tried to bring herself back to focus, feeling dizzy and sick and continually going in and out of daydreams. She felt lost. She was in the room physically, but her mind and her soul were miles away, at a beach somewhere, feeling the salt spray of the sea against her open skin, cleansing herself from the Mountain and the Lannisters and King's Landing.
Sandor
What a fucking day. And we're not even at the hard part yet. Sandor's whole body ached from tiredness, having barely slept the previous night. He also ached in longing for her, as he watched her pick at her food from his corner of the hall. It was fucking tragic, that she looked the most beautiful he had ever seen her on the day she married his brother.
The ceremony was over, thank fuck, but now was the wedding feast. Sandor had to keep his usual guard dog composure as he watched the Lannisters and their cocksuckers get drunk, sing their songs, inhale their food and completely ignore the pain and misery that beset the bride on the 'happiest' day of her life.
Joffrey had definitely inherited his mother's thirst for wine, and had been putting it away like there was no tomorrow. Sandor noticed it was now making him sleepy, and the thought of the little cunt king announcing the end of the party was making tiny beads of sweat tease his lower neck. The end of the party meant only one thing…
Sandor's horrid thoughts were interrupted by Jaime Lannister, who was pretty merry with wine himself. He strode over to Sandor and laid a hand on his arm.
"Relax, dog," he hiccupped. "You've done well today. You're relieved to enjoy the festivities."
Sandor grunted, and awkwardly walked over to the other corner of the room, behind the royal table and mostly out of sight. A few moments later something featherweight touched his elbow. He swung round to see her. Her eyes were a little swollen, and the paint on her face could no longer hide the lack of colour. She forced a smile, cleared her throat, and said, "How're you?"
Tanith
Sandor scoffed. "How am I? Yer a funny one, Tanith."
"Today must have been difficult for you too, Sandor." He nodded.
"Never easy seeing my brother."
"That is not all, though, is it?" she leaned in, her hand sliding over his arm and squeezing it tighter. She had been blind to it before – granted, there was much going on to distract her – but she thought it last night and truly realised it today. The hesitation before he let her go during the ceremony was long enough.
"What?" he snapped, taking his eyes away from her entrancing stare.
"This is killing you, me being married."
"Better get back to yer guests, Tanith."
"Not yet," she said, in a hushed tone. "I need to know now what you're going to do. The bedding ceremony will be soon, and, try as I might, I do not think I can endure it."
Sandor's hostile composure faltered, and he took her arm a little too hard. He leant in so close that she could smell the ale on his breath. "I'm not gonna let him do that, ye hear me? Listen to me, I reckon Joffrey's gonna announce his retirement soon, and before that, I'm gonna give ye a signal. When I do that, you'll slip behind your seat and out of that door," he gestured to the door behind them, which Tanith recalled led to a tight alcove and then some stairs which eventually led to the docks. "Got it?"
"Sandor, what is-"
"Just do it, Tanith!" he hissed, and turned away from her as they both noticed Cersei approaching. She studied Tanith closely, before taking her arm and guiding her back to the royal table.
"What did that dog want?"
"Offering his congratulations, your Grace."
Cersei chuckled. "The bedding ceremony will be soon. Best have one more glass of wine."
Tanith nodded, and returned to her seat. She had probably had enough wine, but took a few sips anyway. She saw that Sandor had slipped back in front of the royal table, but was positioned at its edge. Her heart began pounding so loudly she wondered if Gregor could hear it next to him. She glanced to him, and saw him staring at her chest while gulping a large cup of ale. He had been downing ale all evening. Tanith knew of his preference to get drunk before a battle. Was she going into battle tonight?
Tanith grimaced at the sight of him ogling her, and felt sick at the thought of lying beneath his huge, sweating body. No, she thought. Sandor told you he would not let that happen. You need to trust him.
"Now, it is time for the festivities to end!" Joffrey's arrogant, slightly slurred voice boomed across the hall which fell silent. To Tanith's left, Gregor was almost dozing from drunkenness. She looked at Sandor, who nodded. This was her chance. She carefully placed her goblet on the table, quickly scanning the surrounding faces to check that they were either falling asleep or focussed on the king. She lifted her dress slightly so she could swing her legs around and step behind the seat. She kept her gaze on the crowd as she silently slipped behind the table.
"Where d'you think you're going?" Tanith almost screamed as she turned around and was met with the ugly, grinning face of Meryn Trant. His question prompted Joffrey, Cersei and most of the royal table to face Tanith. Cersei glared at her, while Joffrey sported a bemused smile.
"The bride seems very keen to get off to bed!" he jeered, and the room erupted. A tear fell from Tanith's face as her eyes darted from Joffrey's bellowing, to Trant's smirk, to Sandor's worried look from the doorway behind her.
"Go and fetch your bride, Ser Gregor!" Joffrey shouted. Gregor rose from his chair with a thunderous clatter as he almost took the table with him, and he strode over to Tanith in two short steps. Her face crumpled and quivered as he looked over her, his enormous stature blocking the light from the room as he grabbed her and flung her on his shoulder. The last thing she saw before she was taken away was Sandor's face. She almost thought she saw a tear in his eye.