The fire crackled, the flames dull in the sunlight. Sansa peered into the pot, checking to see if the color looked dark enough. Just a little longer. She thought, sitting back down and picking up the dress she had been mending.
The acrid smoke filled her nostrils and she shifted slightly away, catching sight of the finished pigpen. A smile crossed her face as she dipped her head, focusing on the tear in the fabric. She hadn't spoken to the Hound since she had returned from the godswood, choosing to focus on dyeing her cloak instead.
The right time to talk to him will come. She rose, setting aside the dress to look at the roiling liquid. Perfect! She thought as she fished out the greenery and tossed them aside. Quickly she retrieved the cloak from the house, carefully concealing it as she walked towards the fire.
Slowly Sansa lowered it into the dye, the dark green fluid permeating the wool. She submerged it completely before returning to her sewing and thoughts. At least he won't be angry that it's the same cloak. He might not even realize it.
After about an hour of mending, she stood stretching her back and neck. Kicking dirt over the fire, she stirred the pot. Deciding to let it soak a bit longer, she headed towards the stable. Pausing to stroke Ser's silky mane, Sansa continued on to see her piglet. She crawled into the pen, scooping up the squealing mass of pink flesh.
"Hello, there. How's my sweet little piggy today?" She cooed, cuddling the piglet to her chest as she knelt down to sit in the mud. "You need a name, don't you?"
She set the pig on the ground, watching as she trotted about the pen investigating the mud. "What shall we call you?" She murmured, studying her.
"Why don't you call her 'Porky'?" A gruff voice came from behind her.
"I am not calling her that." Sansa said firmly, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The piglet ambled over to her, her eyes big as she sniffed at Sansa, ears twitching. Sliding her finger down the pig's back, she bit her lip, brows furrowed in concentration. "Rosey." She whispered. "We're going to call you Rosey."
With a final pat on the piglet's head, she stood to her feet, dusting the mud from her dress before crawling back over the fence. The Hound grabbed her arm, keeping her steady as she so.
"Thank you." She murmured, smiling up at him from under her lashes as he release his grip on her arm. He nodded, turning back towards the fields without a word. With a sigh, Sansa watched him retreat around the stable and out of view before reluctantly heading back towards the fire to rinse the dye from her cloak.
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Rocking back on her heels, Sansa wiped the dirt from her hands, admiring the newly transplanted flowers. She stood, heading behind the house to see how the cloak was drying. If all went according to plan, it would come in very handy tonight. Rounding the corner, she looked at the fabric hanging with a satisfied grin - it was perfect!
Fingering the fabric, Sansa was happy to discover that it had dried for the most part. Gingerly she pulled it down and carried it into the house. She hung it over the chairs, stepping back to admire the deep green hue. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she thought of what the cloak represented. She ducked outside to retrieve the needle and then into the bedroom for the thread she'd been saving. Taking a deep breath, she threaded the needle and began to sew.
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The moon was barely visible, making the stars shine even brighter against the night sky. Despite the starlight, it was still too dark to see much beyond the glow of the fire. Sansa was grateful for the darkness to hide her face from the Hound's perceptive gaze. Settling back against a rock, she gazed up at the sky, searching for the right words when her thoughts were interrupted.
"I don't know if I can take eating another rabbit." the Hound rasped from across the fire. "Much less cleaning another one. Didn't you say you wanted to get some chickens?"
"For the eggs." She replied, looking over at him. "But I think that we should add another room onto the house before we get anymore animals."
He turned to eye her curiously. The heat rose in her cheeks and she dipped her head slightly.
"You said you didn't want to share a room and it is going to get cold at some point..." Her voice trailed off. Licking her lips, she began again. "There is a godswood beyond the fields."
"I know. I saw you sneaking across the fields this morning and followed you." Sansa sat up in surprise, watching as he took a drink of water. Wiping his mouth, he looked at her. "I take it there was a weirwood?"
Mutely she nodded, completely taken off-guard by his words. Leaning back, the Hound nodded thoughtfully. "That should put your mind at ease. Northerner weddings take place at night?"
She inclined her head in acquiescence, baffled by his comments. Suddenly he rose from the ground, staring down at her, a strange look on his face. He seemed as though he was wrestling within himself. After a moment of indecision, he moved closer and reached his hand out to her. Taking hold, she let him pull her to her feel, completely mystified.
"We should go to the godswood tonight." He commented, releasing her hand. "I don't think we should wait any longer. It isn't safe."
Sansa stared at him in shock, unsure of how to respond. She found herself nodding slowly as he headed towards the stable before wandering towards the house in a fog of bewilderment.
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Sansa slipped off the bed, her heart racing. She stood, frozen in place as she tried to gain control of her breathing. It's just a formality. She reminded herself, desperate to keep reality in sight. Finally, her heart slowed and her head felt clear. Grabbing her brush from the little table, she slowly pulled it through her hair, relishing the monotony of the familiar motion.
Sansa quickly braided at the hair at the crown of her head, mimicking the style her mother had often done in Winterfell. Her mother - what would she have thought of her daughter marrying a man like the Hound? Her father would not have approved, of that she was certain. Though perhaps after Jofferey...
Sansa shivered, the coldness of the evening penetrating her thin shift. Casting aside the thoughts of her parents, she rubbed her arms and grabbed the dress that lay across the bed, slipping quickly into the rough fabric. Tying it at the waist with a shash, she smoothed out the fabric, her hair cascading down the back in a blaze of red.
I'm ready. She thought, twisting her hands nervously as she moved towards the door. Closing her eyes, she breathed a prayer to the gods for strength before opening the door. Grasping the cloak, she exited the house. The Hound stood waiting, his armor reflecting the flames from the torch he held.
His eyes widened slightly as he took in the creamy gown she wore, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. She thrust the cloak towards him, desperate to distract him. His eyebrows knitting in confusion as the sight of it.
"Every lord wears a cloak at his wedding." She stated as he slowly took the cloak, examining the three leaping dogs emblazoned on the back. He slung it over his shoulders, looking at her expectantly. She grinned at him, falling in step beside him as the traipsed through the fields.
They walked slowly to the forest, the stillness of the night enveloping them. Sansa resisted the urge to peer up at him, instead focusing on the path before them and listening to the jangling of his mail.
The woods grew closer with each step and soon they were entering, her lips moving in silent prayers as she felt the dank air rushing around her. Her heart rate increased, the blood pumping wildly through her veins as they plodded deeper into the forest.
The weirwood loomed above, the leaves burning in the glow of the torch. The Hound stepped forward, driving the torch into the ground before placing himself beside the tree. The crying face looked eeire in the torchlight as he turned to face her. Sansa stopped before the tree, looking up at his scarred face illuminated by the flames. Clearing his throat, he spoke. "Who comes before the old gods this night?"
"Sansa, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?" Sansa spoke clearly, her eyes focused on the Hound's face.
"Sandor, of the House Clegane. Who gives her?" He spoke the words, the silence growing once more. Sansa's eyes flitted to the weirwood, bathed in the torchlight, it's mouth open. The Hound cleared his throat, shifting slightly before continuing on. "Lady Sansa, will you take this man?"
"I take this man." She whispered softly as she knelt before the weirwood, bowing her head in silent prayed under the ashy branches. After a moment, she rose and the Hound stepped forward, pulling the cloak from around his shoulders and draping it across her. He turned to lead her away but Sansa stopped him.
"You forgot the last words." She looked at him shyly, her soft voice barely audible.
The silence that filled the godswood was deafening as Sandor stood over her, uncertainty etched on his face. Gently he cupped her face in his hands, searching her eyes intently before leaning towards her. His lips lingered for a moment, her heart fluttering in her chest as she fought the instinctual desire to close her eyes.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He murmured before tenderly brushing a kiss against her trembling lips. In a heartbeat it was over and she closed her eyes as he turned away to retrieve the torch.
He lead her out of the trees, the night sky darkening as they walked. I am yours and you are mine. She added silently, glancing up at her husband's face, a slight smile forming on her lips. From this day, until the end of my days.