A/N: The burial customs here are a blend of my invention and tradition. Even though they evoke some traditions of the tribes I have chosen, they in no way are meant to be taken as an accurate representation of their religious beliefs. Please forgive me if this causes offense, for that is not my intention. I decided on Indigenous religions because in my opinion their beliefs are the closest to the Old Gods of the Forest in ASOIAF just as I believe Catholicism represents the new gods. For more information on the Shawnee and Ojibwa peoples, please visit this EBchecked/topic/664229/Native-American-religions
I chose the Ojibwa gods to represent the Old gods of the Starks because their lands in Canada are as close to the description of ASOIAF's North as I could get in the modern day world. I also used the Kentucky Shawnee tribe's sept as a means to facilitate the items needed for my invention of the Stark's burial customs.
Shawnee Sept-a subdivision of the main tribe which acted as a tribe unto itself. Not only did they have their own principal chiefs and councils of elders, but they also controlled their own diplomatic relations with other Indians and Europeans. In addition, each sept customarily populated a primary village named after that sept.
Gitche Manitou-Ojibwa's name for the Almighty God, the Great Spirit
Kokumthena-Grandmother, the Shawnee word for Creator
Meesawme-an amulet evoking the spirits of the tribe, made to protect the owner
Thrumming the desk with her pencil, Sansa stared blankly at her textbook while the teacher lectured on about emergency medical care. Though required for her degree, she found much of the information tedious, for it seemed to Sansa that emergency room treatment was a conglomeration of subjects she already learned. From what she heard around campus, the real challenge of working in the ER was twofold: being presented with a wide variety of ailments as well as navigating the stressful environment, which was often a learning ground for new doctors.
She had been so wrapped up in Sandor that Sansa had forgotten today was the anniversary of her father's death. It had been eight years ago that she watched her father killed right before her eyes at the hands of Robert Baratheon's henchmen. With a heavy heart, Sansa left The Daily Grind and stopped by a florist, where she carefully selected three blue roses.
Later, her only friend from school, Jennifer Running Bear, met her at the local Shawnee sept. The shaman there listened carefully and then provided whole leaf tobacco, birch bark and sage for the old gods of the Starks. The old woman then inquired about her relationships and upon hearing from her classmate about the incident with Joffrey, she gave Sansa a meesawme as well, made with bird feathers, wolf bone, pine needles and a wood carving of a young woman. "Grandmother Kokumthena and Gitche Manitou will watch over you," she promised Sansa, "as will your father, child."
"Thank you," Sansa smiled at her and then kissed the old woman on each cheek. When she got home, Sansa lit the three candles and laid the roses in front of a photograph of her mother, father and Robb before bowing her head in prayer.
"Father, forgive me. I should have offered my prayers at dawn. You left us eight years ago today." She whispered quietly as she made the sign of the cross in remembrance of her mother's faith, then carefully laid the tobacco in front of a picture of her father, lit the sage and birch bark and passed the smoke over the likenesses of her family for the Ojibwa gods of her father.
"May the old gods and the new watch over and keep you, Mother and Robb in the afterlife. I miss you every day, Father, you and Mother and Robb. One day I will return to you but for now I must go on. You have sent me such a fine man, Father, and I am truly grateful. Sandor makes me happier than I have a right to be, and once more I thank you for sending him to me. Please help me know how to help him." Her tears now flowing freely, she added, "He is suffering greatly. Since you have been to war, please share your wisdom with me." Sighing, she squeezed her eyes closed, struggling to still her tears.
"I regret all of the many things left unsaid between us. Though it has been a long time since we have been together, I love you all just the same. Please tell Mother and Robb that I love and miss them, too, and please watch over the boys and Arya so they will be safe. Watch over Sandor when he returns to war and lastly, please protect me from Joffrey. And thanks be to Gitche Manitou and Kokumthena for helping me find the worship of our people so far from home." Sansa made the sign of the cross over her chest once more, staying prostrated in front of the makeshift shrine to her family until the incense burned out and it was time to go to school.
The five minute bell stirred her from her thoughts. Glancing at her smartphone, Sansa noticed the clock read 6:54 pm, which immediately set the butterflies in her stomach in motion. Sansa swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. Would he meet her at the restaurant? Or would he come to her school? He would have to wait outside, of that she was certain. Ever since her disastrous reunion with Joffrey, the school posted campus police in the hallways throughout the school. If he comes here and they make him wait outside, how will he find me? Suddenly she was angry all over again at Joffrey.
Upon realizing she had left her cell number on the note she left for him, Sansa relaxed a bit, but only until she heard faint conversation in the hallway. Sansa perked up as soon as she recognized Sandor's unmistakable deep voice with its lilting Scottish inflection. She bent sideways in her seat to get a better look, and the sight that greeted her brought a deep flush to her cheeks.
Dressed in his dress greens and beret, Sandor had stopped for a moment to talk to the security guard, showed him his driver's license, and then turned toward her classroom door. He dressed up for me, Sansa thrilled as she smiled at him, even though Sandor had yet to spot her. When he finally caught sight of her, Sandor's mouth quirked into his usual devilish grin. The other students promptly turned and stared at her, causing Sansa to blush further still.
"Miss Stark, is there something you would like to share with us?" The teacher irritably queried. Just then, Sandor walked through the door, removing his beret as he did so.
"May I help you, sergeant?"
"Master Sergeant Clegane, ma'am," Sandor dipped his head at the old woman. "Pardon the disruption."
Sansa held her breath as all eyes turned toward her once more.
"I've come to see Sansa Stark."
Sansa thrilled at the sound of her name on his lips. Let them stare, she boldly thought and rose to her feet, her actions throwing propriety to the wind.
"Mrs. Lemore, I invited Sergeant Clegane here to meet me for supper. I-I'm sorry if my doing so disturbed the class."
"You did, did you? How did you get past our security guards, Sergeant Clegane?"
"I've served with some of them. Call it professional courtesy." Sandor sneered at her. "Besides, do you really think any of them could stop me?"
"Miss Stark, after what happened I'm surprised at you. As for Sergeant Clegane, he is your…?" She gestured for Sansa to continue.
"He is my love. He is mine as I am his." Sansa smiled sweetly at him as she repeated the marriage vows of the Ojibwa people. Even though she knew Sandor did not realize the significance behind her words, several of her fellow students of Shawnee descent did. They promptly sent up a chorus of ooh's, ahh's in response. Jennifer shouted, "Ps' qui ah-quoi te-ti." Your blood runs hot, Sansa remembered the meaning from the young woman's own wedded ceremony. It certainly does, Sansa nodded in agreement as she smiled at her. There, I said it. Sansa thought triumphantly as she nervously waited for him to reply.
Running his fingers over the band of his beret, Sandor's eyes widened as he stared alternately between Sansa and Jennifer before settling on Sansa once again. The man seemed frozen in place while his mouth twitched sharply as he stared at her, his searing gaze causing her to blush further still. Sansa tried to speak more but her emotional state caught the words in her throat.
Sandor's gaze was riveted to her own as she spoke, and heedless of the teacher, he went to her at once, took her by the hand and kissed her softly, leading to another round of cheers, wolf whistles, gagging noises and applause. Though she trembled in response to his touch, Sansa felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her. Sandor is mine. He is my love and I don't care who knows it and one day, he will be my husband.
"You heard her." Sandor growled when the teacher turned to him for confirmation. "I am hers. She is mine. What else do you need to know? Bloody hells, this isn't high school."
"Another beaux?" The teacher raised her eyebrows, the woman apparently oblivious to Sansa's emotional state. "Miss Stark, didn't you have enough trouble with the last one?"
Fury swept through Sansa. "Joffrey was not my beaux, as you say, when he came here and if you remember, he assaulted me," Sansa fumed, the young woman hardly able to speak in her anger. Seeing her distress, Sandor stepped forward and put his arm around her but she could not be still.
"How dare you say such a thing? Sandor Clegane has just returned home from serving our country. He is brave. He is good to me. He protects me as he protects our country. He is nothing like Joffrey." Sansa's lip began to tremble as she spoke. The entire classroom fell silent at her words and the teacher stared agape, but Sansa didn't care.
"Well, I hope this turns relationship out better for you, Miss Stark." Mrs. Lemore demurred. Just as Sansa was about to reply, the the bell rang.
"Hmph," Sansa glared at her before returning to her seat. After gathering her things, she kissed Sandor soundly, took him by the hand and led him outside. She could see Sandor fighting back a smile, but he also looked very concerned.
"Let's go to the truck, Sansa."
"You didn't have to get so dressed up for me," Sansa forced her lips into a smile as she leaned against his vehicle, steadying herself. She ran her hands over his chest while staring admiringly at his ribbons and stripes. "You look so very handsome. What do all of these ribbons and stripes mean? You must forgive my ignorance." She tried to laugh halfheartedly.
"Never mind that. Sansa, tell me truly: are you alright?" Sandor rasped softly. His eyes roamed over her as though he was searching for a visible cause of her distress. Unable to find one, Sandor then took her into his arms. "Talk to me."
"It's just that blamed teacher-how dare she mention Joffrey?" Sansa began to shake.
Frowning, Sandor ran his hands up and down her arms. "It's no hair off my arse what the old windbag says. Calm yourself now. It's alright, lass."
"No, it isn't," she started to cry, "there's nothing alright about that horrible woman comparing you to that-that monster. He doesn't deserve to have his name spoken in the same sentence as yours." She cupped his face in her hands. "I never loved him, Sandor, you must believe me."
Brows furrowed, Sandor's normally keen gaze reflected deep concern as he regarded her. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks before he drew her into his arms. "I do believe you, Sansa but bloody hells, you needn't grovel to anyone, least of all the likes of me. What is this about, lass?" He tipped her chin up to him. "You can tell me. I promise I won't threaten anyone." He offered her a small smile.
Sansa drew a deep breath. "Remember I told you my father and mother have both passed?"
"Aye and your brother, too." Sandor fixed his gaze on her, clearly anxious for her to continue.
"Well, today is the anniversary of my father's death," she sniffed into his handkerchief. "He-he died in front of me-shot by one of his friend's bodyguards."
Sandor's face went pale.
"I think-I think Joffrey had something to do with it-him and my mother's childhood friend, Petyr Baelish. Anyway, today it's been eight years since he passed and I'm just upset."
Sighing deeply, Sandor raised his eyebrow, his eyes narrowing angrily as he held her face in his hands. "You were engaged from such a young age?" He shook his head as she nodded. "You were just a wee lass of twelve then."
Sansa nodded sadly, unconsciously folding her arms and hugging herself.
"More like a bloody arranged marriage, if you ask me." Sandor spat out through gritted teeth.
Sansa shrugged. "I suppose so, when you put it like that. It's a common custom where I'm from. We call it a betrothal."
"I spent enough time in the Middle East to know an arranged marriage when I see one, no matter the culture or the word used for it. It rarely works out, at least for the women, in my experience." Sandor caressed her face with the back of his hand. "He may not have made you follow through, but still, your father was a bloody fool to bargain with one as precious as you are, lass. That inbred bastard Joffrey never realized the treasure he was given."
Inbred? What does Sandor mean by that? Sansa wanted to ask, but she could not let his comment about her father go unaddressed, so she decided it would have to wait. "My father wasn't a fool, just far too trusting in Robert-simply because they were childhood friends as well as brothers in arms," Sansa sniffed sadly, giving voice to her long held unspoken opinion. "Robb was the same, and I am certain Joffrey was at least partly responsible for his death, too. It's a family trait that I share with them, being so trusting, but unfortunately, though, I have learned the hard way not to be."
"Then you are already leagues ahead of both of them, Sansa," Sandor quietly answered her. "A smart one you are, and kind, too. Far too good for the likes of me."
"You mustn't say such, Sandor, please." She ran her thumbs over his jawline while caressing both sides of his face. "So, did you heard what my class mate said?"
"Aye, something in Shawnee." Sandor leaned down so they were on eye level with one another. "Tell me what she said."
He was so close to her that Sansa could hardly focus. "She said: your blood runs hot. Hers was the appropriate Shawnee reply to what I said to the teacher," her words came out barely above a whisper. "I am yours as you are mine. It is the marriage vows of our people in the north and I meant them, Sandor."
Visibly stunned, Sandor's eyes widened and he gently pulled slightly away from her while gauging the truth of her words. Nervously she twirled his handkerchief in her hands, waiting for his response.
"I know it was terribly presumptuous and very soon for such talk, but-" Sansa's words were cut short, for Sandor pulled her tightly against him, pressing his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss, his lips parting against hers and as she returned it. Groaning, he deepened the kiss and Sansa eagerly matched his movements with her own, sipping at his lips and tongue and pulling him closer to her.
Suddenly he tore his mouth away from hers, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he lifted her into his arms, the man clearly struggling to regain control of himself. "Don't toy with me, girl," Sandor rasped low, gripping her chin and searching her eyes. "Don't say things you don't mean just to-"
"I do mean them, Sandor, and don't presume to tell me what I do or don't mean ever again." Sansa placed her index finger on his lips, the soft tone of her voice tempering her words. "I am yours as you are mine, from this day until the end of my days. One day when you feel ready, maybe you will say the same to me."
"Fuck!" Pushing her away, Sandor then angrily punched a nearby locker. Frightened and confused, Sansa cowered in a nearby corner. What is wrong with him? Why should he be so angry? He said he wanted me with him-isn't this what he wanted? She stayed frozen in place, quietly crying as she stared at him.
Shamefaced, Sandor steeled himself into a forced calm until he settled down in truth after which he held his hand out to her. Hesitantly she slowly accepted his hand.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to scare you." He kissed her on both cheeks and then her hands. "I would never strike you, Sansa. It's just so fucking complicated-and the timing couldn't be worse. I already told you I do want more with you, but for fuck's sake, the Army is sending me back to hell." He turned to her then, and the pale pallor of his face frightened her. "I've already been there three times. How many deployments do you think I can survive before my number comes up?" He let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't want you to suffer, should that-"
Tears streaked down Sansa's face but she didn't care; grabbing him firmly, she had to make him understand how deeply she cared for him, that she was willing to commit herself to him despite the danger. "Sandor, stop this at once. You must calm yourself, I-"
"You don't understand, little bird," Sandor pulled her close once more, gripping her arms with such intensity Sansa could scarcely breathe. "I might not come back. If I make you my wife, you would be left a widow-"
"No!" Sansa burst into tears. "It's back luck to speak of your own death. Quick, say a prayer!"
"Sansa-fuck, I-" Sandor shook his head. "I don't believe in gods-"
"No, you mustn't say such. Please say a prayer-do it for my sake if not your own!" Her desperation cut through his defenses, for Sandor shook his head, paused a moment and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, Sandor resumed holding her tightly against his chest.
"There, for your sake. But prayer or no, you have to accept what my work might lead to, lass." He sighed heavily once more. "See, this is why I didn't want to get too close to you just yet. The price is just too high for both of us. You can't just stand in front of your class and say you want to be my wife-it isn't so simple as that."
Sandor tried to move away from her but Sansa held firm.
"You are the one who doesn't understand. I know you might not make it back, Sandor; I'm not a fool." She held his face so he could not turn away from her. "I-I don't care about that. The future isn't promised to any of us. I could get hit by a car crossing the street. It doesn't matter when or how either of us pass on to the afterlife, what matters is what is between us now. I've suffered so much loss in my life, Sandor, that I'm not about to miss out on love because of what may or may not happen."
Sandor's eyes were so full of pain that Sansa could barely meet his gaze, and yet something like hope also shone in them as well. His breathing slowed, she noticed, as an otherworldly calm settled over the two of them.
"Please, I know it's very soon and that we don't know everything about each other. There's probably a thousand therapists who would give us a long list of why we shouldn't marry. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would say I am a romantic fool or even downright stupid-but it doesn't matter." Sansa held his hands, her eyes pleading with him to feel the truth of her words. "If it's right for us, if this works for us, then who cares what anyone else says?"
"Repeating my own words back to me, are you?" He smiled sadly at her.
She smiled too. "I want to be with you for as long as we both have here on this earth." Not knowing how else to convince him, she pulled him tightly against her.
Sandor buried his face in her hair and traced circles over her back and sides with his hands, the movement calming to both of them.
She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, "I love you, Sandor Clegane."
Seemingly agitated by her admission, Sandor made a choking sound as he pulled away from her, staring with all his might.
"I-" he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I can see the truth in your eyes, Sansa, and gods help me, I can't deny that I feel the same for you, no matter the cost." He pulled her close to him and whispered in her hair, "I love you, Sansa. I am yours as you are mine, from this day until the end of my days, whenever the bloody hells that is."
She laughed then, laughed happily, laughed without a care in the world; Sansa laughed like she hadn't laughed since her father died, and Sandor laughed too as he held her tightly against his chest. Father answered my prayers, she thought excitedly. This was meant to be. Thank you, Father, for giving me such a man to be my husband.
As Sandor kissed her neck, he ran his hands over her sides soothingly, pressing her body firmly against his own with each passing stroke, his touch progressively fanned Sansa's passions and loosened her inhibitions in the process. Soon, any space between them felt like it was too much for Sansa. Moaning softly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer still. "Oh, Sandor…" she whispered hoarsely into his ear.
Suddenly Sandor stilled her movements. "We have time, lass. You need not feel you have to do anything you aren't ready for-I'll not pressure you." He rasped into her hair, his voice thick with desire. "My feelings for you won't change, either."
"Nor mine for you." Sansa pressed her mouth against his, silencing him as she opened her lips to him once again. Sandor lifted her into his arms and crushed her against him as he deepened the kiss further, leaning her against the truck as he did so. When they both came up for air, Sandor opened the door for her.
"Come on, let's get out of here."