Sansa irritably slammed the door, sighed deeply and rested against it, struggling to regain her composure before returning to Sandor. It would not do for him to know how angry she was, as her family's conduct had already stretched the limit of his self-control. Very little would be needed to send him over the edge, Sansa knew, and for once she could hardly blame him. They would naturally need time to adjust to the idea of her marriage but aside from her mother, so far their behavior had been appalling. After drawing a deep breath to clear her mind, Sansa softly padded her way back to the bed chamber, gasping as she entered the room.
There was Sandor, lying shamelessly amidst the furs wearing only a devilish grin. "Come back to bed, wife," he growled low, patting the space beside him. "I'm not through with you yet."
"Sandor, really," Sansa weakly scolded, failing miserably as her eyes fell to his aroused manhood. Blushing, she smiled at him as her eyes travelled over his body. "What if my family followed me inside? For shame, love."
"Haven't got any, you know that, little bird, especially where you are concerned," Sandor lifted her into his arms with a harsh laugh and unwrapped her robe. "By the gods, you are delicious."
Giggling, she snuggled into him. "As are you, husband."
"If your kin are fool enough to walk in here unannounced, they can have their look for all I care." Sandor rasped, pulling her astride his lap. His fingers languidly traced circles over the place where her hips met her thighs, drawing a deep satisfied sound from her throat.
Sansa felt him harden beneath her; halfheartedly she tried to roll away from him. "We needs get ready. I asked them to meet us in their solar in a quarter of an hour."
"Bugger that, they can wait," Sandor breathed into her ear. After settling her on top of him, he nibbled his way down from her ear to her neck to the hollow of her throat.
"Sandor," Sansa breathed out, the young wife at a loss to protest any further.
Gently he rolled her over on her back. "You're mine, lass, and I'm keeping you all to myself for just a bit longer." Before she could answer, he pressed his manhood against her slit, rubbing the length over her until they both were soaked with her arousal.
"Let me have you, wife," Sandor moaned into her ear.
"Yes, oh gods, yes," she moaned, gripping his shoulders tightly.
He never dreamed he would marry anyone, least of all the little bird. Wine and women were the only two things Sandor Clegane thought a man needed; a wife and family was never part of the equation. Truth be told, he never wanted anyone before Sansa but she changed his mind soon enough. Once he had her in his bed, Sandor could not live without her, and before he knew it, he offered to make her his wife.
Hesitant though he was to wed, Sandor quickly discovered there were many things he enjoyed about married life; and making love to Sansa was by far the best advantage of all. The little bird looked so sweet lying in his bed with her skin flushed pink from their lovemaking that the man could not resist pulling her tightly against him once more.
Burying his face in her hair, Sandor murmured, "You smell as sweet as you look. Might want another taste of you."
"Sandor, you know I would love nothing more, but we must go," Sansa blushed even as she worried the sheets in her hands.
"In a bit. I need a wash, woman," his mouth twitched as he regarded her with amusement. "Or should I go as I am?"
"But-"
"But nothing. I don't need you telling me when to bathe." Sandor glowered at her.
His young wife frowned back at him for a moment before she sweetly smiled up at him. Settling back among the pillows, Sansa sighed. "Of course, love, forgive me. After so much time travelling, we both could use a bath."
When he and Sansa finally entered the Great Hall, they were greeted with a look of irritation by Robb and Ned. Nervously Jeyne glanced up at them briefly before keeping her eyes fixed on the table. The Blackfish and Edmure, however, appeared most amused while Arya busied herself sharpening her knife.
Lady Catelyn, however, stared openly at him until Sandor finally cleared his throat. It would not help his position if Lord Stark to notice his wife giving him the once over. She tried to be ladylike about it but couldn't fool Sandor. It was his body the little bird's lady mother was admiring; he caught her taking her look earlier. Women often avoided his scarred face, but Sandor had long known that his physique more than made up for it.
Ned glanced between his wife and Sandor with a stern frown. The whole situation was so bloody ridiculous Sandor could not decide whether to laugh in their faces or curse them all. Sandor looked down at Sansa, still flushed and glowing from their lovemaking and beautiful as ever. She wore a stern expression on her lovely face as he led her to her seat, the change in her demeanor sobering Sandor up.
"My king and queen," Sansa curtsied low in the same formal, distant manner she displayed in King's Landing; Sandor inwardly cringed to see her thus. "Mother, Father, uncles: thank you for agreeing to meet with us."
"What is this about?" Robb demanded. "I am in the midst of meeting with my council over this Gendry person Clegane brought here. Your husband has-"
"Mother! Father! Robb won't let Sansa talk," Arya leaned over toward her brother. "She called the meeting; it's her turn to speak. That's the rules."
Glaring at Arya, Robb started to interrupt once more before Jeyne softly laid her hand on his sleeve.
Ned side-eyed them before clearing his throat. "Please, child, we are all most eager to hear you."
"Father, brother, I wish to say that I am most disappointed in the way you have treated my husband. Sandor rescued Arya and I, kept us safe, and returned us to you," Sansa stared levelly at her father. Turning to Robb, she added coolly, "Despite your suspicions, he swore his allegiance to you. Once you get to know Sandor you will understand what an extraordinary offer that is and yet you still refuse to acknowledge him as your goodbrother. "
"Sansa, this is all just a bit too much to bear," Robb began. "With your marrying so far beneath you during wartime-"
"I understand your reluctance but to disrespect my husband is to disrespect me. How can you say it is too much for you to understand that I wed the man I love? You wed for love, brother, and yet you question my ability to do the same," Sansa shook her head sadly.
Hearing the little bird declare her love for him to her family overwhelmed the man, and Sandor's throat tightened at her words.
Sansa squeezed his hand under the table as she went on. "You intruded on our bedchamber when courtesy requires that you respected our privacy. If you are unwilling or unable to treat us with respect as a wedded couple, we will leave at once."
Astounded, Sandor snapped his head toward his wife. "Little bird, you want me to take you away from here?"
"Yes," her voice quivered. "I will not stay one night where we are both unwelcome."
She was serious, he could see it in her eyes; Sandor would not make her stay where she did not wish. "I'll ready our things at once."
"No, Sansa, Sandor, please!" Catelyn stood up. "Ned, Robb, you must put an end to this foolishness. Sansa just returned to us, how can you upset her so that she would rather leave that put up with the both of you?"
"We have done nothing more than is required, Mother. Sansa will have to learn that things have changed and adjust accordingly."
"Yes, things have changed, brother. You are king and I am a wedded woman. There must be consideration on both sides. I have made up my mind."
"Sansa, Sandor, we ought not to have intruded on your bedding chamber," Ned offered awkwardly. "Do forgive us."
Sandor nodded tersely, though he could see Sansa was not appeased.
The Blackfish stood up and placed his hand on Catelyn's shoulder. "Sandor, Sansa, this is our family seat. You are welcome to stay and there will be no further interferences on the part of the Stark side of the family, of that I am certain."
"Yes, Sansa, please say you will stay," Catelyn added.
Sansa shook her head. "Thank you uncle, but I cannot assent to stay unless Father and Robb agree to treat Sandor as family."
"Can't say I blame her," Arya shrugged. "You guys have been nicer to Gendry than the Hound."
Ned and Robb exchanged a terse look. "We will treat you both with more respect, Sansa, but we still must look into Sandor's statements about Stannis, Gendry and the Lannisters. It is nothing personal, it is the way of war but as a woman I do not expect you would understand."
"You speak truly. I am a woman grown, brother, though hardly ignorant to the way the game of thrones is played. If you could manage to overlook my being female, I would be able to offer much insight into the king and his mother's approach toward all manner of matters. Spending every day at court, I have unique insight pertaining to their strategies of war, as well that of Stannis Baratheon."
"We would welcome your help, Sansa," Ned smiled at her, taking her hand. "Won't we, son?"
"Yes, of course." Robb replied curtly.
Sandor wished he could slap him the way he once saw the Imp strike Joffrey. It would be better to leave, but he could see the little bird's resolve was wavering.
"What say you husband? Should we try staying here for a bit?"
Sansa looked up at him with such hope that he did not have the heart to tell her it was all just an act to appease her mother. Sandor had to hide a snort of derision; he gave no fucks what any of them thought about him and would sooner leave with Sansa than put up with her little shit of a brother. Still, Ned's words seemed to please his little wife and that was all that mattered to him. "Aye, we'll stay little bird."
"Goodbrother, would you agree to meet with Jaime Lannister?"
Taken aback to learn that the wolves managed to capture the kingslayer, Sandor glanced toward his wife, who seemed equally surprised. Could be some kind of trick, he mused, just to see my reaction. Carefully he schooled his face into passive disinterest. "Of course. When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Folly, mere folly, you fool boy, thought Sandor; but the man merely nodded. The lions will eat you alive if you don't wise up soon and your father won't be able to do a damn thing to stop them.
"May I inquire the reason you would have Sandor meet with Jaime Lannister?" Sansa asked quietly.
Sandor patted her leg so she would be still; he didn't want to listen to her family prattle on any longer;
Robb stubbornly folded his arms. "Sansa, I believe the kingslayer might offer a bit of useful information to his nephew's former sworn shield in hopes of securing his release."
Snorting, Sandor casually ran the edge of his knife along the sole of his boot. "Unlikely, that."
"Will you not agree to your king's wishes?"
Observing Robb, young and brash with his chest puffed out made Sandor want to laugh right in the king's face. Leaning in close to the young wolf, he growled, "I thought it was the bastard in your family who everyone said knew nothing; looks like I heard wrong, boy."
"I am your king, and you will address me as such!"
"Certainly your Grace." Sandor snarled out low, his wicked grin twisting his scars in a most alarming manner.
"I must agree with my husband about the unlikeliness of Jaime's cooperation; he will confide nothing, brother," Sansa offered softly. "The Lannisters are nothing if not calculating in both speech and action. It is highly unlikely you will catch him in a misstep." Turning to her father, she probed further, "May I respectfully ask if this conversation between Sandor and Jaime Lannister will be used as a test of my husband's loyalty?"
A clever little bird she is, sniffing out her brother's true motive. Furious, Sandor snarled out, "So that's the way of it, is it?"
"No, Sansa, Sandor," Ned sighed heavily while Robb rolled his eyes. "Walder Frey unexpectedly agreed to accept your uncle Edmure as husband for one of his daughters in your brother's stead. We are merely wondering if Jaime Lannister may know of the reason behind the sudden cooperation."
A cold chill drifted over Sandor. Walder Frey, bloody cowardly weasel. That bugger has mischief on the mind. "Let me ask you this: did Lord Frey answer Ser Edmure's call to arms?"
"Well, he has tarried some. We had to negotiate marriages on behalf of the family to secure his support."
"Though his house is sworn to the Tullys," Sandor raised his brow. "Yes, Ser Edmure's nuptials were secured, but you said family. Who else is part of the deal?"
Ned wiped his face and muttered, "Arya."
"WHAT?" Arya jumped up out of her seat. "Robb, how could you? After what happened with Sansa? You married me off to some weasel Frey? I'll stick him with-"
Sansa gently rested her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Arya, I know you are upset, but please let me speak." When Arya reluctantly agreed, Sansa continued, "You need not send Sandor to speak to Jaime Lannister, brother. I can think of one reason Walder Frey would suddenly agree: it is because he is planning some retaliation against our family."
Scoffing, Robb started to turn away, but Sandor held his arm in an iron grip. "The girl speaks truly," Sandor spat out through gritted his teeth. "Get off your bloody laurels and listen to her, boy. I'll speak to Jaime tomorrow at first light."
