Sansa

The waves crashed against the rocks way far below her. She stood with her feet flush against the edge. The wind whipped at the whips of her hair that framed her face, the rest pinned up atop her head. It was messy – she had woken without Shae there in the afternoon and she hadn't come when she rang the bell. So she dressed herself.

She wore a simple white dress with gold flowers embroidered around the neckline, a warm, red jacket over to keep the winter chill at bay. She held her bonnet in her hands before her and watched the sea move.

She had found herself here, just beyond Hadass' grave where the gardens ended at the cliff edge. It was a steep drop down to the rushing depths.

Her eyes were sore and red, she felt worn out. Everything had changed so quickly. Everything had gone wrong.

Sandor. Her husband. He believed her a traitor – someone with the only purpose of hating him, pretending love while reporting to that snake Joffrey. What would he do to her now? He would recover at some point, she knew. Would he banish her? Send her back to her family? Back to Joffrey? Fear gripped her and her hands shook.

She couldn't imaging being without him now. She was surprised with the strength of her feelings for him. Every day she woke excited with being able to spend time with him. She loved being with him, something she once would have thought impossible. And when he kissed her, Sansa had never been kissed before but even she knew it was something special. It was like in her stories and fairytales that he mocked – magic.

She couldn't even describe it, was it love? She had always been taught that she would know love when she felt it but how would you know if you felt it?

It mattered not anymore.

No matter what she said to him he refused to believe her. She couldn't blame him – the letter was detailed. Far too detailed to be denied. And it was her writing. She couldn't understand it – it was infuriating.

But now, he would send her away. He would live disgusted by her and hate her.

Hate her.

Her hands shook so much her bonnet fell from her grasp. It rolled off the edge of the cliff and disappeared, falling down to the swirling, foaming waved crashing below.

Sansa leaned over, trying to see it, craning her neck to look away down.

"Sansa!"

She jumped at the sudden, gruff voice and he balance was thrown, she lost her footing and the next thing she knew she was falling.

Strong, almost ungentle hands gripped her, pulling her roughly back, dragging her as far away from the edge of the cliff as possible.

"Are you mad, girl? You could have killed yourself!"

She looked up into his face. That face she was terrified to be without. His eyes were red and dry. His face pale and drawn. His scars seemed exaggerated and he looked much older than he was. He was looking down at her with such alarm, and anger. And relief. Yes, she saw it there – relief.

"What were you doing?" he growled, his hands shaking her, a shadow passed in his eyes and he looked scared, "you weren't going to jump were you?"

She was in a daze, she heard his words but no sound came to her, she simply stared up at him, grasping onto this small moment she had, his hands holding her, his eyes looking at her, this was all she would have before he would banish her.

"Gods, Sansa – I would never want…I am so sorry I – Shae got the boy he told me everything I know you are innocent I should never have doubted you but this -"

"I wasn't going to jump. My bonnet, it fell; I was looking for it is all."

He sighed in relief and a rough laugh escaped him, "only you would risk such a height for a bonnet."

He was smiling. That was good. She traced his scarred mouth with her eyes.

But his earlier words came back to her; 'Shae got the boy, he told me everything I know you are innocent…'

"Shae got the boy? What boy?"

"A spy of Joffrey's that had been working in the stables – he was watching everything we did and reported it to Joffrey. He stole your letter to Arya and gave it to him – they forged that letter using some machine to copy your writing exactly. Shae brought him to me this morning, holding a blade to his throat and he confessed everything. I had Joseth send him away…"

Sansa frowned, taking it all in. Shae had saved her, she had proven her innocence.

"I am sorry I doubted you, and…Gods."

His hands moved to her wrists, bruised purple and blue in the shape of his fingers. He cradled them in his large, calloused hands carefully, looking down at them like they were broken china.

Then he leaned down and kissed the skin softly, so soft she might not have felt it, "I am so sorry, Sansa, can you forgive me?"

She cupped his cheeks in her small hands, pulling him to look at her. She stared into those gray depths and smiled, "of course I forgive you, I am just glad you found the truth – glad for Shae."

He leaned into her touch, his hands coming up to cover her own.

"I shouldn't have believed it – of course you would never be so cruel. You; sweet Sansa, everything good. I am sorry I was cruel, I scared you I – I love you and I hurt you-"

Her hands fell from his face to his shoulders, "-what? You love me?"

His eyes widened as he realized what he had said. He was quiet for a few heart beats, then he sighed, his hands moving to her small waist, "yes, I love you."

There it was. That feeling they said she would feel and know what it was. That feeling that made her want to soar right into the sky and burst out a squeal. She found herself grinning up at him, "I love you, Sandor."

He looked like she had just slapped him across the face with her shoe and she laughed, "you stupid man."

He grinned and his forehead rested against hers.

"From now on, I won't ever doubt you, I promise."

"Good."

He kissed her softly at first, then his hands clutched to her desperately. She clung to him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing in her mouth making her dizzy. His hands pulled her flush against his body, then one moved to her hair. He pulled out the pins, letting them scatter to the ground and her hair fell about her shoulders. He tangled a hand in her soft locks and she moaned into the kiss, not ashamed this time.

He breathed her name and his lips kissed her neck, warm and wet and her body felt like it was on fire. Heat pooled between her legs and she squirmed, clinging to him when he bit down softly on her skin.

She tangled her hands in his soft, black hair and pulled his head so his lips came crashing back on hers. He was desperate and passionate and everything Sansa didn't know she had needed.

When they broke away for air they stood, foreheads together, panting and smiling.

"Will we retire for the day, my wife?"

She giggled and kissed his lips softly, "yes."

He carried her all the way back to the house like she weighed nothing.

V