A/N: Sorry for the long time between updates. I went on vacation to celebrate my anniversary. I'll update again soon and stick to my regular schedule of every other day from here on out.
"Gods, woman, but I'm not ready to let you go," Sandor's warm breath tickled the skin of her abdomen, rousing Sansa from sleep. "I'm not ready to give this up for some buggering tent in some shit hole in the desert." His large hands spanned her waist, smoothing over her middle, warming her. The intimate tone of Sandor's voice brought Sansa to tears.
Whispered softly, Sandor's words sounded like a confession even she was not meant to hear. It was as though she was the one he worshipped, the only one to whom he would make vows, the only person with whom he would share his most intimate thoughts. Though scandalized by the potential sacrilege of his behavior, Sansa nonetheless decided that if that was what he needed, she should not interfere, for who was she to judge his ways in such matters? Perhaps this is the way he prays, and might be the only form of worship he will ever embrace. So the young woman patiently waited for him to continue.
Warm lips pressed light kisses along her navel, setting the familiar heat of desire swirling through her veins, his touch making it difficult for Sansa to contain herself. "So soft, so perfect," Sandor murmured as his lips trailed up to her breasts. "A dog like me is not meant for the likes of you, lass, but I'll make you my wife just the same."
Gently he nibbled on each nipple before kissing them and then rested his head in the crook of her neck with a sigh. Wanting him to believe her still asleep, Sansa fought the urge to cradle his head. After hovering over her a moment, Sandor brushed her hair away from her face then rested his head on one breast while tenderly caressing the other. "I'll come back to you, aye, if I have to make a deal with the devil himself." Sansa felt the wetness of his tears dampen her skin. "I'll kill every fucking Lannister there is if I have to. Joffrey and Tywin will pay for all they've done."
Was Tywin responsible for my parents and Robb's deaths? If he was, my brothers and sister won't be safe until he is gone. Pursing her lips, Sansa fought the urge to speak.
Sleepily she wrapped her arms around him. "I'll come back, make this place a home for you, keep you safe." Sandor sighed against her skin. "I'll do what I can to help you become a nurse or anything else you might want to do, move you far away from here, start a family-anything you want; just promise you'll be mine, lass, and I'll spend my life making it up to you."
It is almost as if he feels guilty for leaving. It sounded that way to Sansa, but she certainly did not blame him for it. Brienne and Jaime were his friends, and even if Tywin hadn't called him to active duty, she would not have begrudged him going after Jaime. Like many of the terrible things that had happened in her life, this, too, was the doing of Tywin Lannister.
Not knowing what he needed from her, Sansa rolled him over onto his back and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm yours, love, and there is nothing you need to make up for."
"Wake you, did I?" Sandor grunted softly as he started to move away.
She did not answer him; instead, Sansa kissed his pulse point and then ran small circles over the spot with her tongue. "I'll miss this so very much," she whispered. "Come back to me, my love, as soon as you can."
"The entire U.S. armed forces combined couldn't keep me away from you, Sansa, believe that," Sandor attempted to laugh. It was still dim in the den so she could not see his face, but Sansa had the distinct feeling that he was crying.
"When should we go to Elder brother?" Sansa murmured against his chest, then trailed kisses over his chest and stomach.
Groaning, he finally managed, "As soon as you're ready. I'll call him and tell him we want to be married." Sandor paused a moment, brushing her hair away from her eyes. "You want to find a dress or something?"
Laughing, Sansa smoothed her hands over his skin. "I don't think we'll have time. I'll find something at home."
He turned her face up to his, and as Sandor stared into her eyes, his normally keen gray gaze softened as he regarded her. "Didn't you dream of wearing some poufy dress like Cinderella?"
"Of course I did," Sansa traced small circles over his belly button. "But I am not a child anymore who dreams of knights and fair maidens."
"That so?" The burned side of his mouth curled mockingly at her.
"Just because I liked such things as a little girl doesn't mean I expect them in real life" Sansa bristled. "Joffrey taught me that in life, the monsters win."
"Believe that, do you?" Sandor searched her face.
Sniffing, Sansa nodded. "Sandor, you are mine as I am yours, and that is all that matters. This is an exceptional circumstance. You cannot believe that I would put off our wedding over a dress."
"I've seen those reality shows on base, woman, don't try to fool me. Plenty of women do just that." Sandor's eyes twinkled as he regarded her, the color lightening to ash in his amusement.
"Oh my god, you guys watch Bridezillas?" Sansa burst out laughing and then used her leverage to roll over onto him.
"Aye, some of the soldiers do, and not just the women," Sandor tweaked her chin, his eyes suddenly filling with desire. Slowly he rolled his hips and held onto her thighs so she would meet his cadence.
"You devil, you," Sansa giggled. "What a way to change the subject."
"Well, are you planning on throwing me over so you can buy a proper dress?" He looked so anxious that Sansa didn't have the heart to tease him further.
"You know me better than that. Besides, it isn't like I can just go into a bridal salon and buy a wedding gown."
Shaking his head, Sandor growled, "I don't see why not. Won't they sell you a dress if you have the money, for fuck's sake?"
"Yes, but it needs to be fitted and that takes time." Sansa explained, all the while inwardly marveling that she was talking to her future husband about wedding fashion while lying naked in his arms. Her lady mother would turn over in her grave if she knew what her daughter was about.
"Oh, aye." Sandor sighed deeply. "I remember Brienne said as much when she and Jaime were betrothed." Lost in thought, Sandor stared at the ceiling. Sansa could feel his anger simmering.
"You deserve better than some shotgun wedding, Sansa," he finally spat out. "Better than some shit ceremony thrown together at the last minute." He gripped her chin, not ungently, and Sansa made sure to stare levelly into his eyes. "Disappointed, are you? Tell me truly."
"No, I most certainly am not," Sansa said without hesitation. "I want a marriage, Sandor, not a wedding." Snuggling down, she resumed placing gentle kisses over his stomach in an attempt to appease him. "I want to say our vows before the gods and men. I want a proper wedding night."
Sandor laughed then, the sound deep and low. "Aye, I can see that. Well, that I can give you, lass, I promise you."
Raising up onto one elbow, Sansa smiled at him. "Then let's get ready, shall we?"
Nodding, Sandor's mouth twitched into a smile as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the shower. "Who should we invite?"
"Brienne, of course," Sansa frowned, concentrating on lathering his broad muscular chest. "Margaery, Loras, Podrick and Mrs. Olenna." Turning, Sandor began running the shampoo through Sansa's hair as she counted off on her fingers. "Jennifer, my friend from class."
"Oh, aye." Sandor rinsed her hair. Turning, she looked at him questioningly. "Who do you want to invite?" Please, not Bronn.
As if reading her thoughts, Sandor's lips curled into a smile. "My neighbors on both sides. Brienne, of course. Bronn, if that suits you." Without waiting for an answer, he started working the conditioner through the ends of her hair.
"Maybe you should get a job in a salon after your service," Sansa teased while trying to buy herself some time to calm down.
"Bugger that. I'll only be doing this for you and our little ones, Sansa, believe that."
At the mention of children, Sansa sighed deeply, lost in the image of being surrounded by children with red hair and grey eyes. Mother said marriage was one big compromise; perhaps I should start here. "Bronn can come, I suppose, though I still don't trust him."
"Lass, if you don't want him there, I won't invite him." Sandor cleared his throat. "I was just teasing you. But believe me when I say he won't do you any harm. If I thought for one moment he couldn't be trusted, I would have shot him myself."
Fury radiated from Sandor's eyes, hot and burning, while the coldness in his tone sent a shiver through her. Settling her in front of him, Sandor then held her face in his hands. "And believe me when I tell you that if it takes me until my dying breath, I will finish anyone who hurt you, Sansa, I swear it."
"I do believe you, Sandor," Sansa whispered softly as she caressed his cheek. "And I see the truth behind your words. It-it frightens me."
"I'll keep you safe, lass, and I swear you'll never need fear another again." With that, Sandor tenderly kissed each cheek before brushing his mouth over her own. "It's what I've been trained to do-and it's what I will do as your husband." Abruptly Sandor turned, handed her the shampoo bottle and sat on the edge of the tub so she could return the favor.
After eating a quick breakfast, Sandor returned Sansa to her apartment. Margaery was already there visiting her grandmother, her shrewd blue eyes narrowing in on the diamond ring on Sansa's finger the moment she exited the truck. Sighing, Sansa knew what was coming and wished she could just disappear.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She shrieked after Sandor drove away, all the while grabbing Sansa's hand and holding it up to the light. "Wow, this is really beautiful. But, are you really going to marry him just because you fucked him? Is this some religious shit because you feel guilty about it or what?"
"No, that has nothing to do with it. Sandor's being deployed again on Tuesday," Sansa felt her lower lip quiver as she spoke the dreaded words. "I don't know what will happen and I don't want to wait. Is there something wrong with that?" Suddenly she burst into tears.
"Sansa, don't cry," Margaery put her arms around her. "I'm just looking out for you."
"Margaery, dear, let's take this indoors, shall we? It isn't becoming for you to talk in such a way out in public. If you must swear, don't do it in mixed company," Olenna demurred, gesturing to the neighbors staring their direction.
Once inside Sansa's apartment, she hissed at her granddaughter, "You know better than that. I don't care but I don't want to lose tenants, so watch your tongue."
"Sorry, Gran but did you hear what Sansa said?" Margaery dramatically flopped on the couch and threw up her hands. "It's waay too soon!"
"So says you," Olenna tisked. "And who asked for your permission, anyway? You sound positively puritanical."
"But Gran-"
"Margaery, you always preach tolerance and acceptance; well, this is where you get to put your money where your mouth is. Sansa can do whatever she wants. She doesn't need your your approval. If you are truly her friend, you will accept her decision and support her."
"But so soon, Gran?"
"Soon, shmoon!" Olenna waved her hand dismissively. "In my day many couples married right away. No one made fuss over it, and it was no wiser then than it is now. Get over yourself, dear, will you? This side of you is not very attractive."
Castigated thoroughly, Margaery sheepishly remained silent.
"Did they-the couples, I mean-marry right away because of the war?" Sansa asked, hoping the elderly woman would offer more details on the subject.
"Well, that was one reason, definitely," Olenna crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe.
"You think war is a reason to marry?" Margaery stared in mock horror.
"If war isn't a good reason, what is?" Olenna shrugged. "You never knew what would happen, dear, and besides, who wants to wait for sex? I certainly didn't. There was this one boy before your grandfather who had the largest-"
"Gran!" Margaery scolded, the young woman blushing heatedly, much to Sansa's amusement, for she never thought she'd see the day Margaery blushed over anything.
"What, dear?" Olenna heaved a frustrated sigh. "Do you honestly think your generation is the first to enjoy sex? If you only knew the things I did to secure your grandfather's interest-"
Margaery held her hands over her ears."Lalalala I can't hear you!"
"Oh fine! You claim not to be a prude but look at you now!" Olenna turned her nose up. "Margaery, your generation is so afraid of commitment it spins my head to think of it. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, I always say. Sansa, darling, you marry that big Army man of yours if you want to with my blessing. He clearly adores you and that isn't something you see every day."
"We wed later today, ma'am, " Sansa quietly said, waiting for her landlady to admonish her. "Would you please be our guests?"
"Certainly, darling, we would love to come. Wouldn't we, Margaery?" There was a distinct warning in her tone.
"Yes, Gran."
"Tell you what: I'll even have Margaery drive you there. No use having the man see you before the wedding." She patted Sansa on the cheek and then took her leave.
After Olenna left and a great deal of pleading on Margaery's part, it seemed to Sansa that she finally realized all her reasoning was falling on deaf ears. And so Margaery apologized, gave in and decided to help her friend.
"Loras can do your hair." Margaery clicked her teeth as she examined Sansa's nails. "You need a mani, though. I can do it for you with quick dry polish while Loras rolls your hair. Red or pink or nude?"
"Nude, please."
"Okay. And then I'll do your makeup." Biting her lip in thought, Margaery quickly texted her brother.
"Yes," Sansa eagerly nodded, the young woman relieved to have Margaery on her side at last. "That's so generous of you!"
"Yeah, yeah." She smirked as Sansa embraced her. "Next we need flowers and a gown." Gasping, Margaery clutched her chest, her eyes growing wide. "Oh good gods, where will we ever find a gown on such short notice?! Shit!"
A wave of nerves churned through Sansa, for she had never seen her friend panic over anything, least of all fashion. "I-I saw that a new David's Bridal opened up last week across from the park." Sansa offered weakly. "Maybe they will have something-"
"But you don't even like modern stuff-I'm thinking you'll want more of a Grace Kelly in High Society look." Raising her brow, she looked Sansa over.
"Oh, that would be so perfect," Sansa's eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite movie, "but we don't have time-"
"Hmm, I have an idea," Margaery strummed her fingers on her hip. "Maybe Gran will loan you her gown. Well, it isn't a long gown, you know, that wasn't the style back then, but it's a lot like the dress in the movie with an organza overlay and a crinoline petticoat so the skirt stands out. Oh, and it has the most adorable little roses embroidered over the organza, too. Yes, it would be just perfect for you!"
"Oh, Margaery, I could never ask her to do that!" Sansa insisted, though secretly she loved the idea. "I mean, it's her wedding gown!" She could never work up the nerve to ask her landlady for such a favor but Sansa had seen Mrs. Olenna's wedding pictures on her mantle and the dress wasbeautiful…no, she couldn't do it.
"Don't be silly!" Margaery waved her off.
A glimmer of hope once again rose into Sansa's mind and then all too quickly it was quashed by reason. Surely Mrs. Olenna had been saving it for her only granddaughter...no it was out of the question. Defeated, Sansa softly added, "But your grandma probably means to pass it down to you."
Margaery rolled her eyes. "She already did. It's mine, Sansa, and I can loan it to you if I want."
"When did you see it last? Is it in good shape?"
"The last time I saw it was when I almost married Renly last year. It looked like it had just came from the bridal salon but I didn't want it. It's in my closet at home, still sealed from the cleaners."
Sansa struggled to hide her cautiously optimistic tone. "Why didn't you want to wear it if it is so pretty, then?"
"Yes, it's gorgeous and it's preserved perfectly. But like, I don't want the old thing-no offense, honey." She hurriedly added as a horrified Sansa gaped at her. "We've got plenty of money! You've seen Highgarden Plantation-why should I settle for an old dress? Besides, I'm more of a Vera Wang kind of girl; you understand me."
She most certainly did. Though Sansa had received some of her family's money after her parents passed, she had no desire to blow it, not even on a wedding gown. Sniffing, it was Sansa's turn to roll her eyes. "Well, would you consider loaning it to me with your grandma's blessing, of course?"
"Gran, will you let Sansa wear your wedding gown today?" Margaery called out the door.
"Am I invited to the wedding?" Mrs. Olenna called from her flowerbed.
"Yes." Margaery shook her head at Sansa. "So, what do you say?"
"Of course she may wear it. It might need to be let out a bit."
Fuming, Sansa frowned until Margaery explained, "She doesn't mean anything by it, just an old lady who needs to remind everyone of how small she was when she married," she giggled. "Just let her have her say. Anyway, you're about my size and I fit into it perfectly. No worries, I'm sure you won't need to alter it. What size shoe do you wear?"
"Seven and a half."
"Awesome! That's my size and I have a pair of shoes I bought to match that I've never even worn-raw silk Manolos, no less."
It's all coming together, Sansa smiled to herself. Margaery swatted her on the bottom. "Don't just stand there like a statue. I'm going upstairs to grab the dress. Go, get your prettiest lingerie on and grab your makeup. Loras will be here any minute."
Loras will be here while I'm in my underthings? Even if he is gay, Sandor wouldn't like that. Anxiously Sansa stuttered out: "But won't I need to wear a robe, or-"
With a shake of the head, Margaery laughed openly at her. "Honey, Loras doesn't care if he sees you in your panties, believe me."
Embarrassed, Sansa lowered her eyes until Margaery rested her hand on her back. "But if makes you feel better, then yes, put on your robe."
An hour and a half later, Sansa was dressed and ready for her wedding. Loras had rolled her hair with soup cans and brushed it into a forties victory style while Margaery painted her nails and did her makeup. After he sprayed her hair, Loras then tucked white and pink peonies into her hair at the base of her neck.
"Gorgeous, just gorgeous! This has to be the fastest a bride has ever gotten ready," Loras beamed as he stood back and took in at the overall effect. "We should enter this in The Guinness Book of World Records."
"Shut up, you queen," Margaery laughed at him. As for Sansa, she barely heard the siblings trading barbs, so absorbed was she in her reflection. In fact, the young woman hardly recognized herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked so happy, so calm and relaxed, and so unlike the frightened child she had been for so long that Sansa was overwhelmed. Unbidden tears dampened her face.
"On no no no, don't cry, Sansa!" Loras gently dabbed her cheeks. "Don't you like it?"
There was no denying that her friends had given her a lovely makeover. "I'm just emotional…I'm..." Sansa hesitated as she smiled at herself in the mirror.
"Oh girl, go on and say it!" Loras insisted, kissing her on the cheek. "You know you want to."
"I'm beautiful," she softly breathed out. After Joffrey's verbal abuse, Sansa truly believed she was ugly, despite the many compliments she often received. Even after she escaped the Red Mansion, his cruel words stayed with her, echoing in her ears every time she looked at her reflection, until Sansa no longer allowed herself to think anything positive about her appearance.
Now, the very act of saying those words aloud to herself in the mirror was an exhilarating, liberating experience for Sansa. Swallowing hard, she looked to Margaery for reassurance.
"Go on, Sansa honey, you can do better than that," Margaery nudged her. "Fuck what that little bitch of an ex of yours said to you. He's not worth shit and you have a real man who loves you, who would never hurt you. Say it loud, say it proud: 'I'm Sansa Stark and I'm beautiful!'"
Biting her lip, she wasn't sure she could, but after a moment's pause, Sansa confidently repeated Margaery's words: "I have a real man who loves me and will never hurt me. I'm Sansa Stark and I'm beautiful."
"Damned right you are, all gussied up and ready to wed!" Olenna said loudly from the door. "And don't you let those bloody uppity Lannisters or anyone tell you otherwise ever again or they'll get their comeuppance from me."
Beaming, Sansa hugged each of them until Margaery said, "Come on then, let's go to the base." Before she left her apartment, Sansa took her father's wedding band from her jewelry box, kissed it, and said a quick prayer that he would bless their union. After examining it, Sansa doubted it would fit Sandor's large finger, and so she took out a silver necklace that also belonged to her father, looped the ring through it and put it in her purse.
"I've got the camera," Loras grinned as he helped her in the car. "Let's give our girl away!"
Several service people smiled at Sansa as she made her way to Elder brother's office. Has Sandor told people he's getting married today? She wondered after one man offered her his best wishes.
"We'll wait outside until the ceremony," Loras opened the door for her.
"Okay, thank you for everything," Sansa kissed his cheek. Speechless, she slowly made her way inside. She could see Sandor's tall build pacing anxiously on the other side of the frosted glass doors.
A tall, older man with a square jaw and shaved head opened the door to the interior office and smiled at her. "I am Elder brother. You must be Sansa Stark. Your groom is waiting for you most anxiously."
A girlish giggle escaped her lips. She noticed he wore a burgundy sash around the outside of his uniform.
"I suppose you already saw him. He is rather hard to miss." Elder brother joined her in laughter.
Finally, Sansa nervously whispered: "Forgive me; I am rather nervous. It's so nice to finally meet you." Sansa felt like once she started, she couldn't stop talking. "Sandor has said so many nice things about you. I cannot thank you enough for seeing us today. I hope I haven't kept you both waiting for very long."
"No, not at all, my dear. It is as it should be. This is your day, after all." He placed his hand on her back, smiled and led her inside.
Shyly Sansa slowly looked toward Sandor. With his huge form clad in his dress uniform, he had been pacing at the far end of the room but the man now stood frozen in place as his deep gray eyes met her own. Without a word, the fierce soldier who was to be her husband held his arms out to Sansa, the affectionate attitude in Sandor's demeanor in striking contrast to his formidable appearance. Eagerly Sansa hurried to his side and took his hands. "My love! How handsome you look!"
Sandor barked out a harsh laugh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elder brother discreetly retire to the outer office.
"You did all this in an hour?" Sandor hungrily looked her over, the man delicately touching the flowers in her hair. It seemed to her that he was trying to make sure she was real, for his hands then moved from her hair to her cheek and then down to her collar before Sandor wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight grip.
"I had some help from our guests," Sansa blushed and nodded toward the door. "Mrs. Olenna lent me her gown and Loras and Margaery helped me with my hair and makeup. I didn't see Brienne or Pod."
"They're on the way," Sandor answered absently while he stared at her so intensely that Sansa began to feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. He seemed to notice, too; raising his hand to her cheek, Sandor ran his finger over her jawline, leaned forward and rasped low in the shell of her ear: "Still with the blushing, are you? After all the naughty things we've done together? Might be I'll have to do something about that later."
"Oh, Sandor, just being so close to you...while you're looking at me in such a way is most…thrilling." Yes, thrilling was a better choice of word than arousing. Swallowing hard, Sansa felt her cheeks flush hot as his implication brought a flood of pleasurably indecent memories to mind. The familiar ache between her legs returned as she placed her hand over the palm that cupped her face. "It's almost as though your gaze is a physical caress. I feel it all through my body." Shyly she looked up through her lashes at him.
Sandor laughed then and reverently took both her hands in his own. "Sansa, you're beautiful, lass, truly and a sweeter woman there never was. A lucky man I am." Carefully he smoothed his hand over the organza material of her gown. "Elder brother has agreed to marry us on the condition that we accept a year of counselling twice a week. Does that suit you?" Sandor's eyes darkened as he spoke, as though he was still afraid she would reject him as her husband.
"Yes-yes, that would be wonderful!" Standing on her toes, Sansa impulsively kissed him on each cheek and then on the mouth. "Thank you, love, that eases my mind greatly."
Pleased, Sandor handed her a bouquet of white and pink roses and peonies.
"How beautiful! Thank you!" She kissed him once more. "The bouquet matches the flowers in my hair! How did you know?"
"Loras may or may not have texted me the name of the flowers to get, as well as a picture for the florist." Grinning at her shocked expression, Sandor then looped her arm through his own. "Come on then, little bird, let's get married."
Breathlessly, Sansa whispered, "Yes, Sandor. I'm ready to become your wife for true."
Once more, Sandor spent a long moment just drinking in the sight of her and then bent to tenderly kiss Sansa on the lips."And I am ready to become your husband."
Just then Elder brother entered the room, causing the couple to separate self-consciously. "Sandor, Sansa: shall we begin?"