After Lord Tywin walked out of the room, Sansa's legs began to shake uncontrollably while a singular numbness started to creep over her mind, the woman unwilling to accept Sandor's imminent departure. We were lying together just this morning, playing at our lovemaking, planning our wedding and now-now he's leaving! How could this have happened? Why would the general choose their wedding, of all times, to take Sandor away?
Observing the general's cold countenance, it became clear to Sansa that the man seemed as though he was devoid of normal sentiments, and that he also did not care about the happiness nor the feelings of anyone other than himself. Poor Brienne was left standing in shock as he hurried past her. He didn't even take his daughter in law into account; his only thought was retrieving his son.
While the latter was certainly understandable, it was completely unthinkable that the general would choose their wedding ceremony as the precise moment in which to call Sandor up to active duty. And yet that is exactly what happened: in the matter of a few minutes, the state of the young woman's heart vacillated from elation to despondency, from incandescent joy to the darkest anguish Sansa had felt since her family was taken from her.
Sandor is leaving. He is leaving right now. Her head swam with the many things she wished to say to him but unfortunately her upheaval rendered Sansa speechless. Sandor's terse demeanor told Sansa she was not alone in her misery, and that he too was greatly disappointed by the sudden turn of events that abruptly ended what should have been the happiest day of their lives.
Trembling and unable to find her voice, she reached out for Sandor, who quickly moved to her side and put his arms around her, steadying her. "Easy wife. Don't faint on me now."
It was true: Sansa was very well on her way to passing out, for his words recalled that her mind and body felt the same when she saw her father murdered. Struggling to calm her nerves, it was with great effort that she finally managed to speak. "I'm not going to faint." No more had Sansa whispered her words then her knees buckled beneath her.
Sandor caught her at once and lifted her into his arms. "Sansa, easy, love."
Margaery took her hand. "Sansa, honey, take a few deep breaths with me now." The young woman inhaled deeply and motioned for Sansa to do the same. When she followed along, Margaery smiled. "That's the way. Just a few more now. It won't do to have you faint dead away on your wedded day."
Gently Sandor carried her toward the door. "Come on, let's get to Elder brother's rooms."
"Wait, before you go, let's get one shot," Loras called out to the couple, the sound of his voice shaking Sansa from her wretched reverie. Raising his camera, the young man added: "I know this may not seem like the thing to do right now but let me take your picture. You'll be glad of it later."
"Oh yes, Sandor, let's have a picture of us taken." Fearing her husband would say no, Sansa forced a tight smile and gently tugged him into place. "We can show it to our children one day."
"Alright." Annoyance veritably radiated off Sandor's body as he settled her on her feet and then pulled Sansa close. "But make it quick. General's waiting." Sandor venomously spat out the last sentence.
"I know, big man, but trust me, you'll be happy you did this later on. And Sansa looks far too beautiful to not have her picture made."
"Aye, she does at that," Sandor glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth pulling into a tight smile as he looked her over. "A beautiful bride you are, lass."
Quickly Loras talked them through a few poses. "I'll put them on Snapfish, Sandor, and you can access them from your phone anytime you want. I'll send you the link."
"Many thanks. Come, Sansa." Sandor's expression was tightly schooled even as he tenderly traced her cheek with his fingers, sighed and then took her by then hand.
The touch of his hand felt so good that Sansa wondered at how she would ever learn to live without it. Dazedly her mind struggled to comprehend the altogether unexpected turn of events as Sandor led her toward Elder Brother's private quarters.
There was so much that Sansa needed to say to him, so many things left unfinished between the couple; but, in that moment, her words fled and all Sansa could think of was how desperately she wanted to feel his arms around her, to draw comfort and strength from him. No more had Sandor closed the door than Sansa flew into his arms like the little bird to whom he so often likened her.
She could not get close enough to him, and so Sansa grasped his sides as she pulled herself closer still. Strong arms suddenly lifted her into a tight embrace and then Sandor kissed Sansa on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she tried hard to memorize everything about their embrace-the way his muscular arms felt around her body, his scent, even the rhythm of his breathing-the young woman viewing each little act as something to remember, to savor and sustain her during their time apart.
"Little bird, I hope your gods forgive me for this." Sandor finally rasped into the top of her hair, breaking the silence of the room as he gathered her close. "I'm sorry. Sorry about today, sorry that I have to leave you. You deserve better."
Shivering, Sansa's words caught in her throat. "All of those things are beyond your control."
"I owe you a wedding night." Sandor attempted to laugh. "I owe you so much more than this, believe that."
"You had no way of knowing General Tywin would take you away today. And besides, it is part of your job. You have nothing to be sorry about." Sansa finally managed, though she was certain Sandor felt the sharp tremor that moved through her body as she spoke. "This is totally beyond your control."
"Aye that it is." Sansa watched as Sandor clenched his jaw while struggling to contain his emotions. Finally he drew a deep breath. "But I never meant for you to go through this. And you'll never do so again, I swear it."
"Sandor, I understand that your commitment and duty to the military comes first." Sansa whispered, lowering her eyes as she spoke, for she could not bear the immeasurable pain in Sandor's expression any longer. "I knew that when I first saw you in uniform."
"Aye, but it's always is harder to be left behind than to be the one to go, believe that." Sandor caressed soothing circles over her back. "I'd not have you go through this buggering fiasco."
"I know that all too well, and…though it is difficult, I accept it." Even though it was true that she did understand such things, it still didn't make it any less painful, but Sansa kept that part to herself even as her eyes filled with bitter tears.
"Never again, lass." Calloused fingers traced her jaw, urging her to raise her eyes. "I'll never leave you again, I swear it."
Hesitantly Sansa stared into his eyes, and at once Sandor's own darkened as he returned her gaze.
"Pretty little bird. I see the tears in your eyes. Already regretting you wed me, are you?" The intensity of his insecurity, trepidation and yearning in Sandor's expression burned into her. Despite her misery, Sansa understood what Sandor needed from her.
"I will never regret marrying you," she met his gaze calmly, refusing to look away from his daunting regard. "Never. It is absolutely impossible." Sansa cupped his cheek. "I love you. I meant my vows, Sandor. You mustn't fear that I will abandon you or grow tired of waiting."
Without breaking eye contact, Sandor brushed his hand over her cheek. "I'm not one for flowery speeches and such, you know that, but I cannot leave without telling you that I love you, wife. I'll love you until I die, and I'll kill the devil himself to come back to you."
Biting her lip, Sansa swallowed hard, struggling to choke down a sob.
"I won't be long, Sansa," he went on. "I'll find Jaime and come right back to you, I swear it. I'll leave the service and you'll never face such again."
Sandor spoke promises that she doubted he could keep but it touched her just the same. Smiling softly, Sansa took his hand in her own and pressed it tightly against her heart. "You must be very careful, love. I'll be praying for your safety and that of your men and women every day." She took the red flannel pouch and placed the cord around his neck. "Wear this always, Sandor; promise me you will. It will keep you safe."
Silently Sandor nodded his assent as he fingered the pouch, sniffing the contents as he did so. "Smells good, too. You wear yours as well, lass." He motioned to her purse, and so Sansa handed him her pouch and allowed him to place it around her neck.
Grasping his other hand, Sansa laughed in spite of herself as she pressed it to her heart and added: "You must have faith in me, Sandor, and faith in my father's words. If you do, then you will return to me safe and sound."
"Aye, I do," Sandor pulled her in close. "I believe in you, lass; I do. I swear it on every one of your gods."
Just then Elder brother knocked on the door. "You only have another minute."
Pursing his lips, Sandor pulled her close. "If you don't hear from me often, remember that you're in my thoughts, lass, always. A hound will die for you but never lie to you, and I swear I will return."
Sobbing, Sansa eagerly pressed her mouth to his as Sandor enveloped her in his massive arms. She did not want him to die for her; she wanted him to spend his life with her, give her children, and she wanted him to grow old with her. Deepening the kiss, Sansa opened her lips to him, swirling her tongue over his own, moaning softly as she did so. Groaning, suddenly Sandor resolutely moved away from her, clenching his fists as he shuffled toward the door.
Even though Sansa had known this moment was coming (she had known it from the day he returned), still, she felt unprepared. Now the time for their parting was at hand, Sansa found she no longer had any strength in her limbs, no breath to speak her goodbyes or words of love, no air even to cry out his name.
"Take care of the place while I'm gone, lass." Squeezing her close one last time, Sansa saw that a guilty demeanor blighted Sandor's face as he settled her back on her feet and reached for the handle.
"I will," Sansa managed through her tears. "I love you, Sandor. Oh, look, I almost forgot. Here," she took out her father's ring on the chain. "This is your wedding ring. I-I was so overwhelmed during the ceremony and after that I forgot." She sheepishly smiled at him in spite of her tears. "It belonged to my father. I-I put it on a chain in case it didn't fit."
Biting his lip, Sandor examined it carefully. "It's a bit small, aye, but I'll wear it around my neck." He dipped his head so Sansa could slip it beneath the collar of his shirt. Carefully kissed each of his cheeks and then his lips, after which she stepped back and offered him a tremulous smile.
"This isn't goodbye, lass." Sandor firmly rasped in her ear before lifting her in his arms and kissing her soundly. "I love you. I'll return quicker than you can shake a stick." After he set her down, Sandor offered her one last smile, then turned away from her and groped for the door. Loras was the first person they both saw outside Elder brother's quarters.
"Watch out for her, Loras. I'll be home soon." Sandor called over his shoulder as he pushed open the exit door.
"You got it." Loras promised as he moved beside her.
Stepping forward, the Elder brother waved burning sage over Sandor's person, and to Sansa's surprise, he meekly submitted before placing the flannel pouch inside his dress shirt, patting it next to his heart.
Jennifer moved forward and said: "Live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Seek to make your life long and of service to your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Show respect to all people, but grovel to none. When your time comes to die, sing your death song, and die like a hero going home, so spoke the great Chief Tecumseh."
"Thank you." Sandor growled low before casting one final glance toward Sansa.
Hopeful for one last look, Sansa followed behind him and watched Sandor's form until he disappeared into the nearby hangar. Behind her she heard the footsteps of her friends, but her only focus was on her husband, who did not even glance at her as he disappeared from sight. Crumbling to the floor, Sansa could no longer hold in her emotions, and the young woman began sobbing in earnest as Loras and Margaery gathered her close. "He didn't even look my way as he left the building." She gasped out while desperately clutching her friends.
"Sandor knew you were there, but the man can't bear to see your face as he leaves." Loras said quietly.
Sharply Sansa raised her eyes to him. "But why?"
"Because despite everything, your husband blames himself for your misery," Loras whispered in her ear. "Sandor wants to remember you happy, not grieving for him, and most importantly he doesn't want you to see him grieve, either."
She had never thought of it that way, and Sansa at once felt guilty for not considering Sandor's point of view.
"Fuck that evil Tywin Lannister for this." Margaery seethed as she helped Sansa back through the halls of the base. "Who ever heard of interrupting someone's wedding day for a mission?"
"Renly said he was a hard ass." Loras shook his head. "He wasn't kidding."
"What goes around comes around. He'll get what he has coming to him one of these days, mark my words." Mrs. Olenna quietly predicted.
"Yes, ma'am, in our faith we call it karma." Elder brother stepped forward and took Sansa's hands in his own, indicating he was about to pray with her.
"In mine we call it comeuppance," Mrs. Olenna cryptically commented. "Sansa honey, let the holy man pray over you, and then we'll take you home."
"Yes, I think that would help." Sansa shakily replied as Elder brother led her to the chapel.
When Sansa returned to Sandor's home, the space that only a few hours earlier had felt so warm and cozy now stood as a sad reminder that her husband was no longer with her. Margaery quietly carried in the wedding presents while Sansa changed out of Olenna's wedding gown and slumped down on Sandor's side of the bed. Lady, seemingly sensing Sansa's distress, curled up beside her and rubbed her head on Sansa's chin.
Sansa just wanted to be alone with her thoughts and for the day to be over. When Margaery finished, she settled down on the foot of the bed and patted Sansa's legs. "I wish I knew what to say, Sansa. Just know that I'm here for you and so is Loras and that all of your friends love you."
"Margaery, thank you," Sansa whispered, tears filling her eyes at the familiar, masculine scent of her husband on the bedding. "Thank you for everything. I love you too, but I just-I just need to be alone, okay?"
"Yeah sure, Sugar, okay." Margaery got up and moved toward the living room as Sansa began crying harder still. Vaguely the new bride heard the screen door click behind her as her sobs continued unabated. All through the night, Sansa cried until she could not catch her breath, cried until she had no more tears left as she recalled everything that had happened since she first saw Sandor standing in the coffee house in his uniform, offering her his awkward grin as he gave his order.
The hopeful, gentle part of her heart had begun flowering that day, blooming alongside her burgeoning love for him. It whispered promises of deep love, commitment and possibility, of friendship and lifelong happiness. It was a fragile, delicate thing, this promise for the future, and yet it flourished during their brief time together, so much so that within a very short period of time, Sansa had been willing to say vows of forever to him. But today Sansa's hopes had died when Sandor disappeared through those doors, and the young woman did not know if she had the strength to pull herself out of yet another disillusionment and period of mourning, if this time she would be unable endure the loss of yet another loved one. She stayed in her contemplative state for the rest of the night and all of Sunday as well.
But as the first light of morning filtered into their bedroom, Sansa began to pray and before long, the determined part within her, the Stark Wolf Spirit that lay sleeping inside the woman, awakened and began to make itself known in her mind as well as her heart. Soon the pain, the melancholy, and her inner despondency was replaced by the voice of her father within her.
Not for the first time she heard this inner voice, for it had been her constant companion after her parents died, reassuringly whispering that she would survive this just as she had the other miserable experiences of her life, that she would emerge stronger than before and that her love for Sandor would only strengthen and mature during their separation.
Sansa believed her father was answering her prayers, empowering her, and slowly she emerged from her despair. Gradually, Sansa's resolve intensified, the young woman determined not to allow their time apart to change her spirit nor color her memories of Sandor with heartache. No, she would think of Sandor every moment of every day, she would welcome both the pain and the happiness, and she would cloak herself in his memory.
And Sansa would hope-hope for his safely, hope for his return, hope for their future. She would shroud herself with hope, wear it for the world to see, no matter how desperate times may become. And she have faith in his return just as her father instructed, and she would carry on.
With newfound conviction, Sansa determinedly rose the following morning, dressed, and prayed to the old gods and the new before she headed into the coffee shop.
When she walked in, Loras and Margaery exchanged glances with Mrs. Olenna, who sat working the crossword puzzle nearby. Raising her brow, Margaery then asked gently, "Sansa, are you sure you feel up to this? We didn't expect you today."
"Yes, I'm sure." She shrugged off Margaery's trepidation with a smile. At first the gesture felt unnatural but it began to feel more effortless as Sansa tied on her apron. "I just need to keep moving forward, Margaery. It's the only way I know to get through it."
Mrs. Olenna nodded approvingly. "The only way to handle these things is to push through them, Sansa."
Loras leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Granny's right, Sansa. We're glad you're here."
Drawing a deep breath, Sansa swallowed down the catch in her throat, forced a smile once more and nodded before turning her attention toward her first customer of the day.