A/N: This chapter takes place the day after the events of the end of chapter 44 (Sandor's execution) and details the wedding and wedding night of Ulfric Stormcloak and Sansa Stark. Their wedding vows are a mix between the wedding in A Dance with Dragons, and the wedding in season 2 of Game of Thrones. Also, I would like to give some sort of credit to Alanis Morissette for her song "No" which helped a lot with writing the end of this chapter. Just to give a warning in case you read this and not the rating notice, there is both physical abuse and rape in this chapter, so...you have been warned. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin.

Rating: M for strong language, abuse, rape, and thoughts of suicide.

Sansa knew that she should be grieving. She should have been filled with sorrow, or at the very least, with rage. Instead, she found that she couldn't feel anything at all. It was as if the place inside of her that should have been feeling the grief of her loss had been ripped out. She was empty. Completely devoid of...anything. And somehow, that hurt more.

"Does that feel alright, m'lady?"

Sansa was torn from her thoughts by the sound of the maid's voice and she turned her gaze away from the large window in front of which she was standing. "Pardon?" Even her voice sounded hollow.

"The dress, m'lady. Does it fit right? Should I tighten it?"

Smoothing it out with her hands and shaking her head, Sansa sighed and then left her place by the window. "No, it's fine. You may go now." Just leave me be.

"Lord Stormcloak doesn't want you to be left alone..." the maid replied hesitantly, wringing her hands and looking apologetically at the soon-to-be bride.

So I don't throw myself from a window before the wedding, Sansa thought bitterly. He's considered everything.

"Then don't go," she answered with a heavy sigh, turning to inspect her reflection in the full length mirror that stood nearby.

The dress she had been given for the occasion was admittedly very beautiful, the silk as white as the purest snow and adorned along the bodice with small pearls that shone in the light cast from the nearby candle. The gown flowed out and down into a light thin fabric that imitated the look of rare and expensive swan feathers which Ulfric had been unwilling to import on such short notice and the bodice cut low across her chest, exposing a bit more cleavage than she would normally feel comfortable with. Sandor would have loved it.

As he once again rose to her mind, Sansa turned her gaze up to stare directly into the eyes of her reflection: blue eyes rimmed with red and wet with tears that threatened to spill out unbidden at any moment. She tried to blink them away, but the motion only freed the moisture from her lashes, allowing her tears to flow down across her pale cheeks.

She could almost imagine him standing there beside her, his large hands resting lightly on her hips as he admired her reflection. "You look beautiful, little bird." She would chastise him for seeing her in her dress before their wedding and he would smirk. "I can take it off of you if that would make you feel better," he would say, and then he'd laugh when she blushed.

Another tear traveled down Sansa's cheek and she crumpled weakly to the floor as she began to sob, gasping for breath as her face contorted in pain. She had once been vain enough to despise her own grief for the havoc it wreaked on her normally pretty features and after her father's death, she had forced herself not to cry, but now, she welcomed the flaws of sorrow, for they reminded her of what she had once sought to live for.

Upon her collapse, the visibly pregnant maid hurried over and hastily handed her a silken handkerchief. The fabric was soft and smooth against her skin; it hurt far less than Sandor's roughspun one had when she'd wiped away the tears he had usually caused.

"He won't like it if he sees you've been crying, m'lady," the older woman whispered, glancing anxiously toward the door.

"How can he be such a monster?" Sansa wailed. "He...he..."

"Shh..." the maid soothed. "I know what he did, m'lady. I was there when it happened. We all were; he made sure of that." She spoke again, almost to herself. "Marrying a young lady on the day after her lover's death just doesn't seem right, but it's not my place to argue."

Had it really only been a day? It felt as though it had happened a thousand years and mere seconds ago at the same time. She could still see the vacant look in his eyes as Ralof had swung the axe... After that, she remembered little, save for the constant presence of Ulfric's guards.

"You have to be strong, m'lady," her maid urged, once again addressing the heartbroken young woman before her. "Be strong for him. I know you can."

Him.

Sansa gathered herself and took a deep shaky breath, smiling weakly and taking the servant's hand in both of her own. "Thank you." Her breathing faltered and she wiped absently at her cheeks before adding lamely, "I...I'm sorry, but I don't know your name..."

"Gilly," the older woman replied with a small smile. "Like the flower. I came here with Samwell Tarly, Wuunferth's apprentice; maybe you've met him." She smiled shyly. "We're expecting our first child in three moons now."

Although she knew that the young maid was only trying to lift her spirits, the mention of children nearly sent Sansa into hysterics again. She only barely managed to contain her raging emotions when there came a knock at the door.

"Sansa?"

Gilly helped her stand and hastily pinned back a stray lock of hair that had escaped from Sansa's crown of flowers before turning to address the man on the other side of the door.

"Come in."

Robb entered, looking as grim as ever, though he allowed himself a small smile when he saw his younger sister. "It's time," he said, as gently as he could.

Sansa merely nodded and put her arm through his as he thanked Gilly, dismissed her, and led Sansa down and out into the city. They walked in silence, though Sansa was sure Robb could hear the frantic beating of her heart. She turned her eyes down to avoid the garish decorations that had been hastily put up for the wedding, but all she could see when she looked down at the snow covered ground was how it looked stained red with blood and she clutched her brother's arm when she swayed with a sudden bout of nausea.

Robb looked at her in concern, but made no comment. He had barely managed to say more than two words to her since the execution. For the first time in her life, Sansa felt guilty for not having tried harder to find Arya after she had run away following their father's execution. She now understood how it must have felt for her sister to battle the grief of his death on her own.

Before they reached the doors of the temple, Robb stopped his eldest sister with a hand to her arm and looked down into her big blue eyes, smiling softly, though with evident guilt and regret.

"You look beautiful, Sansa."

She turned her gaze to the white silk gown she was wearing and then looked back at him with an empty expression. "I should be wearing black, not white."

Robb sighed. "I swear to you on my honor as a Stark that I wanted no part in what happened."

"But you did nothing!" Sansa retorted, her eyes once again welling up with tears. "You stood there and watched as Ulfric let Ralof kill...S...San..." She broke down crying and tried to run, squirming feebly when her brother's arms closed around her.

"There was nothing I could do for him, Sansa," Robb said firmly. "I know you may have...had feelings for him...but Ulfric was right. He was a traitor to his own people—our people—and he received the sentence given to any man with such crimes against him. Ulfric is giving you a chance that some think you don't deserve. Now..." He gently wiped away her tears and fastened the grey and white cloak in his hands around her shoulders. "Be brave, little sister. After all, it's only a wedding."

And a wedding night with a man I do not love, or want. That was what she feared the most.

His reassurances were hollow, but Sansa nodded regardless and stayed silent as he fastened her Stark maiden's cloak about her shoulders, almost laughing at the irony of it all. She was no longer a maiden, and had lost her innocence at the hands of the man that her soon to be husband had executed. It was almost as if Ulfric was trying to completely erase him from existence. Sansa stubbornly refused. As long as she was alive, the name Sandor Clegane would never be forgotten.

Once it was fastened, Sansa put her arm back through Robb's, turning to face the doors that would deliver her to her fate. Robb patted her hand and fixed the same stubborn lock of her hair. "Are you ready?"

No. "As I'll ever be."

Together they pushed open the doors and walked into the Temple of Talos. Candles flickered eerily in the dark hall as they made their way down the aisle to the statue of Talos where Ulfric stood. As they walked, a stray leaf crunched beneath Sansa's heel and she looked down at it, taking a deep breath.

Winter is coming.

"Who comes?" Ulfric called out through the smoke created by the burning incense at Talos' feet. "Who comes before the gods?"

Robb responded in a clear voice, the words echoing against the stone walls around them before being swallowed by the thick air. "Sansa of 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?"

The Stark siblings stepped from the haze of smoke into the small ring of light that surrounded the statue in front of which Ulfric stood. "I do." The Jarl smiled at the sight of his bride. "Ulfric of House Stormcloak, Jarl of Solitude and rightful High King of Skyrim. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Robb of House Stark, her eldest brother." He looked down at his sister and squeezed her hand, attempting a reassuring smile. "Lady Sansa, will you take this man?"

In my words, I am forced to, but in my heart, I will never be his. And he will never be mine. "I take this man."

Nodding sagely, the Priest of Talos stepped forward and Robb stepped back, the former placing a thin strip of linen over the joined hands of the couple to be wed. "In the sight of the Nine Divines, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

They turned to face each other and Sansa felt her eyes welling up with tears as Ulfric met her gaze and they began to speak in unison.

"Akatosh. Arkay. Dibella. Julianos. Mara. Stendarr. Zenithar. Talos. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days."

The priest stepped back and let Sansa take a single step forward toward the groom, still holding tightly to his large, warm hand. Together they knelt and bowed their heads, each silently sending a prayer to the gods of their choosing.

Akatosh, let my time here be short, so I may join my love again upon my passing. Arkay...I know he did things in his life that he regrets, but don't let him be punished for those deeds in Sovngarde. Dibella, let me never forget how it felt to be in his arms. Julianos, grant me the wisdom to understand what I have done to deserve this. Kynareth, watch over me from the heavens and let the skies bring forth rain for every tear that I must not shed in the presence of my husband. Mara, forgive me for the lie I live with the man to whom I am joined in your name. Stendarr, take mercy on me and deliver me not into the hands of this murderer, but into the halls of Sovngarde where my love awaits me. Zenithar, let the work I must do as a wife be little, for the man at my side does not deserve my love.

She felt Ulfric begin to rise and sent up a request to the ninth and final Divine that watched over her with eyes carved from stone.

Talos, give me strength.

Together they stood and Sansa watched Ulfric as he undid the clasp on her cloak, letting it tumble to the cold stone floor. As it fell, the candles swayed and danced, casting a harsh red glow over the man before her. He took the cloak from over his arm and swept it around her with a flourish. The golden bear of the Stormcloaks snarled fiercely against a field of deep blue, offering itself as her protector from this day until death did they part. Please, let that day be soon.

Ulfric fastened it with clumsy fingers and placed a kiss against her lips before turning to face the dark hall that led back out to the city. He took her hand and they stepped forward, together, as man and wife.

When Sansa heard the door close behind her, she took a deep breath and tried to use the words of her mother's house to calm her nerves, though she had never before felt as brave as the Tullies of Riverwood, least of all now.

Family, duty, honor. Family, duty, honor...

Whether she liked it or no, Ulfric was her family now in the sight of the gods and she knew that it was her duty as his wife to perform in their marriage bed and give her lord husband the heirs he needed to secure his throne. But where was the honor in bedding the very man who had ordered the execution of the man she loved? Try as she might, she couldn't find an answer.

"Take off your gown." It was an order, not a request.

Silently, she obeyed, struggling to free herself from the tight bodice. She missed the feel of Sandor's impatient fingers tugging at the laces of her gown. Even more she missed the look of disbelieving awe in his gaze when she stood bare and blushing before him. Ulfric merely leered from his spot in the shadows at the corner of his chamber, his lust-filled eyes darkening when she stood in only her corset and smallclothes, her dress discarded on the floor.

"Onto the bed."

Resisting the urge to retch, she did as she was told, keeping her thighs tightly together. Duty or no, she did not want him.

She could hear him undressing across the room as she prayed fervently to all the gods and Daedra alike that she could think of and her heart beat faster with each soft thud of fabric. His footsteps followed and then he was there at her feet, his hands pulling apart her thighs. Sansa couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips. "Please...gods...no..."

Ulfric stilled and as he regarded her through narrowed eyes, filled with obvious disbelief, she remembered the night in the woods when Sandor had read from her book before they fought. His voice echoed in her mind. "Against the Bear of Markarth, Ulfric Stormcloak, "no" is not an answer."

Her throat tightened with sudden, overwhelming terror and she cried out, thrashing against Ulfric's grasp as his fingers left bruises on her thighs. "You're my wife now," Ulfric snarled, finally gaining the upper hand and pinning her down against the bed. "You do know that's an honor don't you?" Sansa's only response was a sob as she struggled fruitlessly against his weight, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You really are the most beautiful woman in Skyrim, aren't you?" His eyes narrowed cruelly as a smirk twisted the corner of his thin lips. "The Hound had good taste." He raised one hand and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking it back so her neck was exposed to his teeth.

Sansa could nearly feel herself strangled with fear, or perhaps by her husband's sweaty hands, and she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut in an attempt to forget where she was. If she didn't look, she could try to imagine that he was Sandor. Only, he had never hurt her.

She could smell him when pulled away, his breath hot and heavy against her face. He reeked of sour wine and stank of dirt and sweat. "Please..." she whispered weakly. "Don't..."

Ulfric ignored her pleas and when he moved to kiss her, Sansa mustered all the strength she had and bit down hard on his lip, staring up at him with defiance burning in her eyes as he jerked away and brought a hand to his mouth. Using his distraction to her advantage, she managed to squirm enough to ram her knee between his legs, causing Ulfric to recoil and swear loudly, cringing in pain before bellowing towards the door. "GUARDS!"

Sansa's feeling of rebellion faded momentarily at the seemingly innocuous word and as she felt the cold coil of dread in her stomach, she doubled her efforts, feebly trying to free herself from beneath his superior weight. She could hear the voices of the guards outside and then that of her brother, loud and angry.

"RO—" Ulfric's hand clamped down hard over her mouth and the taste of blood threatened to make her gag as she bit down. Her husband swore loudly and struck her hard across the face, bringing tears to her eyes. "Bitch," he snarled, before turning his head back toward the door. "Guards!" This time, the door opened and two Stormcloak officers came in. Sansa tried to get a glimpse of her brother, but he was nowhere to be seen. It seemed as though his duty to the man he followed outweighed his own sister's very life.

"Hold her down," Ulfric ordered the guards, sitting on her stomach to keep her from squirming. The two men exchanged a glance, and the younger of the two reluctantly opened his mouth to object.

"My lord—"

"Do as I said," Ulfric commanded, his tone brokering no room for argument.

Although still hesitant, the men obeyed, one gripping her ankles as the other took hold of her wrists. Once she was secured, Ulfric ripped her remaining garments in two and Sansa wailed, too frightened to be embarrassed when her breasts spilled out of her corset and into his hands. If he wasn't past raping his own bride, who was to say he wouldn't share her with his men when he was done?

She writhed uselessly against their grip and cried, her vision blurred by her tears of anger and helplessness. As much as she wanted to fight, she was losing strength, and the thought of Sandor only made her weaker. Ulfric gazed down at her when a sob caught in her throat and a pitiful hiccup left her lips. He knew she didn't want him, but she didn't have to. Tonight, all she needed to do was submit and he knew she would, because he knew that she was weak.

Using her last ounce of strength, she fought and squirmed and screamed for help and bit his lip when he bent to kiss her, but when Ulfric roughly pushed her legs apart and invaded her body, she stilled. Her thin frame was tense and rigid beneath the weight of his body, and she whimpered in pain when he moved, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

He could see in the dull haze of her eyes that she had been conquered, and Sansa Stark, as she had been known, was gone.