19. White, Ivory and Cream.

Sandor knocked on the door that led to the office, and when he was given permission to enter he stepped inside, closing the door again behind him. Joffrey was sitting behind the desk in front of the window, reading the newspaper as usual. He was smoking a cigar, and there was a glass of brandy on the desk. Sandor took a few steps forward to approach the desk; Joffrey had called him to come to his office shortly after they arrived from the airport, but he didn't look away from the newspaper of even talk for at least a minute before apparently finally noticing that his bodyguard was standing in front of him.

"Ah, Sandor!" he exclaimed with a half polite and half mocking smile on his face while he folded the newspaper and left it on the desk next to his glass of brandy. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, I'm pleased that you are back."

"You sent my brother to go and get us," Sandor reminded his boss.

"Yes. I expected Robb Stark to stay in town for a couple of weeks more, but he finally left, so I didn't see why you should stay away much longer. Besides, my fiancée needs to be here. There are many events coming up."

Sandor raised his eyebrows. Joffrey could have just picked up his phone and called him to order him to fly back with Sansa to King's Landing, instead of sending Gregor to get them. But Sandor knew Joffrey's game. He had wanted to catch Sansa doing anything that she wasn't supposed to do so that he would have an excuse to let Gregor torture her, and he had sent Sandor away so that there would be no one looking after the girl. Luckily, Sandor had gotten back to the mansion before his fucking brother had time to come up with any ideas.

Joffrey picked up his cup of brandy and took a sip from the drink before frowning.

"Did anything interesting happen while you were away?"

"Interesting?"

"Yes, interesting. My fiancée often does odd things when she's not under my watch," Joffrey said then. He had lowered his tone of voice, which acquired a dark and threatening ring.

Sandor held his boss's gaze defiantly. He had always looked at Joffrey with sincere indifference, sometimes maybe even dislike when no one was looking. However, since he found out all those things about Joffrey in Tarth, he couldn't stop himself from looking at Joffrey in that way. Joffrey meant to harm Sansa while Sandor only wanted to protect her; his feelings were much stronger than mere dislike now. It was a silent battle between two men for the fate of a woman. But Sandor was unable to openly fight that battle, and all that was left to him was that silent defiance that he transmitted through his eyes and Joffrey was too stupid to notice.

Yes, many "interesting" things happened. Your fiancée and I had an affair, he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and he didn't say it. Also, I helped her reunite with her sister, who is trying to kill you and is now part of a group considered to be terrorist by half the world. And I discovered you are a sick and fucking psychopath.

"No," he said instead.

"Nothing at all?" Joffrey insisted, narrowing his eyes.

For a second, Sandor feared that they had been discovered. That the camera was indeed working and he had been mistaken, or that someone had seen them, or that there were bugs and listening devices, hidden cameras, anything, and Joffrey was just trying to get a confession out of him. Instead of panicking, he searched in Joffrey's face any sign of that, but he couldn't find any; his boss was just curious.

"No. Your fiancée just kept to herself most of the time. She read in her room, swam in the pool, watched television in the living room, practiced her singing and ate in the dining room. I was around doing my own stuff."

Joffrey smiled, satisfied with the answer.

"Good! I'm surprised you weren't bored to death. I have to admit I've missed you around here, dog. Meryn and Boros are complete morons and useless."

"I could have told you that ages ago."

"Don't worry, from now on you'll be resuming your services to me. I fired Sansa's old bodyguards, they were even more useless than Meryn and Boros, and I hired new ones. You don't have to suffer her any longer, and they'll make sure that she's safe."

To Sandor, those news felt like a knife in the belly. Sansa had been assigned new bodyguards and wouldn't be needing him anymore? But that meant that he would see her so frequently anymore. He wouldn't have an excuse to be alone with her, he would be able to talk to her, kiss her in secret... He would have to suffer the torture of seeing her from afar, like he had done many times before, and not be able to get close to her.

He maintained his composure, knowing that he couldn't give any of his thoughts or feelings away or he would be in deep, deep, deep trouble. Or perhaps not. Perhaps Joffrey would be amused by the knowledge that his bodyguard had feelings for his fiancée, and long as he believed that Sansa wasn't attracted even a little bit to the burned man. Knowing Joffrey, Sandor suspected that he would think that he was torturing Sansa if he forced Sandor's presence upon her. While that would play in his favor, Sandor knew that it would be unwise to even try to see if he was right.

"Are you sure they are good bodyguards?" he asked, keeping his normal time of voice. Raspy. Indifferent.

"Yes, they were recommended to my grandfather, and only the best is recommended to him. They are not as good as you, but obviously I'm keeping the best for myself. If there is any other attack anytime soon I prefer that Sansa gets killed and not me."

Sandor's hands closed and turned to fists. He almost took a step forward and was incredibly close to giving in to his desire of grabbing Joffrey by the neck of his shirt and punch him in the face until all his teeth were missing and his pretty face ruined.

You son of a bitch! Sandor barked in his mind.

Joffrey didn't notice Sandor's rage, he was too distracted by whatever perverse thought were crossing his mind at that moment. His usual grin was spread across his face and his eyes were full of delight while he smoked his cigar.

"You know, Clegane, it's been a very interesting week, you've missed a lot of things here in the mainland. I suppose you were having fun, lost there in paradise, but you wouldn't even believe me of I started telling you what had been going on here."

"Surprise me," Sandor rasped between gritted teeth, still working in containing his fury.

"For starters, the odds are in my favor. Dorne is mine!" the young Governor exclaimed, quite pleased with himself. "And the Reach is also going to be mine. I'll crush Robb Stark in the election like a cockroach, and you'll be the bodyguard of the President of Westeros. How do you like that?"

"I'm static," the bodyguard rasped, the sarcasm palpable in every syllable. "Any more "wonderful" news?"

"Yes. Margaery Tyrell is pregnant."

Those words actually made Sandor react. He stared at Joffrey with wide eyes, and processed the news in his head. Margaery Tyrell? Pregnant? Impossible!

A second later he recovered from the initial shock, he ached his eyebrow.

"I suppose Renly Baratheon had nothing to do with that..." he murmured, knowing perfectly fine what Joffrey's expression meant. The prick looked like he had won the fucking Olympics.

Joffrey shook his head and smoked from his cigar again with an air of superiority that was completely sickening.

"Obviously everyone is going to believe that Margaery became pregnant of her husband shortly before his tragic death... However, we both know that it was someone else who did the planting," Joffrey said. "That child is mine."

Sandor was even more infuriated then than he was before. Now not only did Sansa have to stand that her murderous and abusive future prick of a husband cheated in her, now she would also have to stand him having a bastard with his lover. It was humiliating, even though Sansa couldn't care less about Joffrey. Sandor knew that it would be hypocrite to be angry at Joffrey for the cheating part, because she herself was cheating on him with Sandor, but at least she wasn't fooling around getting pregnant... Sooner or later, the truth about that bastard would come out to the rest of the world, secrets like those were hard to keep in the modern world, and then everybody would think that Sansa was exactly what Sandor had thought of her at first: that she was a stupid gold-digger that was stuck with her husband's humiliations so that she could keep benefitting from his money and power.

Or maybe, it could actually be useful to Sansa. Maybe that little result of the affair of Joffrey and Margaery could help her to finally get rid of him for good.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked regarding Margaery's pregnancy.

Joffrey sighed. "Well, I can't marry her, obviously, even though she would be the ideal match. But she's recently widowed from my own uncle, and the fact that the whole world will think the baby is his will not help at all. Plus, I would have to break off my engagement to Sansa, and that is something in definitely not going to do. Margaery might be from a richer family, but Sansa's family is more influential. They are my political enemies, and Sansa is my weapon against them. If I leave her I will have the entire North wanting my head. It's better that things stay as they are. My relationship with Margaery will continue being a secret affair that only you know of, and her baby will be my beloved cousin, nothing more."

"When is the wedding?" Sandor suddenly blurted out without even thinking. The question was just eating at him, and he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the dreaded day was coming closer and closer. Before he just thought of it as some tedious event like any other that he was forced to attend because of his job. Now, however, the wedding was a source of mental and physical torture for him.

"April 15," Joffrey said, sounding bored. "I'm not particularly excited, but I also can't wait to have Sansa as my wife. Then she will be only mine, and I will be able to do with her as I please..."

Joffrey never knew how close he had been to have his skull smashed in at that moment, had it not been because the butler suddenly opened the door and came inside the office, stopping Sandor from trying to attack his own boss right then and there. Both men looked at the elderly butler and wondered what he was doing interrupting so suddenly the conversation between the Governor and the bodyguard.

"Forgive me, sir, but Mrs Stark is at the phone," the butler informed Joffrey. "She wishes to speak with you."

"Which one?"

"Governor Stark's mother, sir."

Joffrey rolled his eyes, irritated.

"Ugh, that woman. I thought I was finally rid of her..." he grunted as he picked up the phone in his desk and made a gesture with his hand to the butler to indicate that he could leave. The butler left the office, and Joffrey greeted the waiting Mrs Stark in the phone. "Mrs Stark? It's so good to hear from you!"

Sandor could have laughed at Joffrey's fake polite and nice tone, had he not been so infuriated by the entire previous conversation that they had been having. Joffrey's time didn't match at all his bored and irritated and less than polite facial expression, which made it look like he wanted to be shot and die rather than having to talk with his future mother-in-law.

"I trust that you had a good trip back to Winterfell?" Joffrey asked, smiling only because of the prospect of having all the Starks far away from him and King's Landing. However, his little smile dropped and his expression became miserably annoyed when he got his answer. "What do you mean, you are still in King's Landing?!"

For a second there, his real mood almost reached the surface and was noticed at the other side of the line, but he was lucky and Catelyn Stark didn't notice the desperation with which the Governor of the Crownlands asked that question.

"Yes, she's here... You want to what? Buy the dress with her? Of course n-!" again, almost another mistake. Joffrey stopped mid sentence to control his voice and his anger; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then he faked a sweet smile for the woman speaking to him on the phone. Sandor had no idea what was going on. "Of course you can accompany your daughter to get her dress, ma'am. Sansa was going to go with my mother and sister, but I'm sure she would love to have her mother there..."

Joffrey clenched his jaw, and Sandoe his his satisfaction. While there was a Stark in the city next to Sansa he could not harm her, and neither could he send her away a second time unless he waned to be suspicious.

"Sansa is resting right now, Mrs Stark, she's tired from her flight. But I will tell her about your plans... Thank you, have a good day, Mrs Stark. Goodbye."

As soon as he said goodbye, Joffrey slammed the phone down and cursed under his breath.

"God, that insufferable woman!" he exclaimed, letting his frustration out finally. "She's still in the fucking city! Those idiots told me they would be gone yesterday!"

"Perhaps you should have let us stay in the island a few more days," Sandor rasped, wishing that was the way thing had been like, but they weren't. However, he knew that the little bird would be overcome by joy if she could see her mother again.

"Perhaps, but I can't send her away again. I'll have to let her go with her mother... Well, my mother will be there, so there's nothing to worry about..."

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her?"

"No, it won't be necessary this time. As I said, she has her own bodyguards now, you won't have to see her again until the night of the Oscars."

The Oscars, right. The little bird had been talking a lot about them during their time in the island, and she was incredibly excited about it. Sandor had never cared about things like those, he considered those events useless and stupid, but he knew how important it was to her. The fact that she was nominated was the recognition of her own work, the recognition of something that she had done on her own, with her own talent. It was something that she had done without Joffrey; if she won those awards, they were hers and only hers. Sandor knew how much Sansa needed that after all he had learned about her that week; even if she didn't win, they were a necessary distraction for her.

"I might tell you to keep an eye on her when she goes on tour," Joffrey said then. "Her new bodyguards can protect her just fine, but they can't... control her. Not in the way that I want her controlled."

"I understand," Sandor nodded.

You want her to not be able to put a single foot outside the hotel room because you are a paranoid sick bastard that thinks she's going to rat you out at the slightest chance. She's too terrified of you to even try it, you worthless bastard.

Joffrey made the same dismissive hand gesture to him that he had done to the butler moments ago.

"Now get out of my sight, I have work to do," he said, having lost interest in conversation for the time being.

Sandor nodded his head and didn't longer there for a single second longer. He left the office, relieved that he was finally able to get away from the Governor. It was incredible how much he had come to hate the man that he had been protecting for 23 years, only because of the little bird.

Sansa is a thousand times more valuable than him, he thought.

That little shit... He wished he could tell the Governor to fuck off, but after having killed the Vice President, Sandor doubted that anything would stop Joffrey for doing the same to his own bodyguard, and Sandor wanted his head to stay in his shoulders and all his organs to stay in place and intact as well.

Sandor walked, and his steps took him to the staircase of the mansion. He went up the steps, and without noticing his own steps took him towards the hallway where the room of the little bird was located. When he realized that he looked up and he saw her door, which was open. They had just brought in her luggage and they had left it inside her room. One of the butlers was leaving the room, and just then Sansa appeared at the other end of the hallway and walked up to her room. When she saw Sandor standing there she gasped slightly, and the bodyguard noticed the hurt in her eyes. Was she in pain because of the same reason as he was? Because she had gotten the news that he wouldn't be able to be near her in a long time? Was she aching for his presence as much as he was aching for her?

He wanted to close the distance between them and hold her in his arms. He wanted to walk up to her and kiss her until they were both out of breath, and fighting that urge was one of the most difficult things he had had to do in his life.

He almost couldn't resist, he almost gave in to his desire; he would have been so stupid and foolish if it hadn't been for the footsteps in the staircase behind him that alerted him of the presence of someone else there. Sansa noticed it as well and gasped again, and then she rushed inside her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Sandor gulped and he turned around in time to see Cersei Lannister behind him, wearing the same smug expression as always. She didn't even greet him (not that he cared) and then she just made her way to her own room. Once he was out of aight Sandor turned his head again to stare at the closed door of Sansa's bedroom.

He took a few steps forward until he reached the door. He lifted his hand, almost grabbing the doorknob to open the door and enter the room, but his hand stopped midair and turned into a fist. He couldn't do that now. They were in King's Landing, his presence was no longer welcome in Sansa's bedroom.

He listened closely and he heard the sound of the girl sobbing close to the door. Perhaps she was leaning against it, sitting on the floor while she cried quietly. It wasn't the first time that he heard her sobbing, but this time, hearing her at the other side of a door and being unable to comfort her made it a thousand times harder to listen to it without feeling... guilt? Yes, guilt. That's what he felt.

"Little bird..." he rasped lowly, almost inaudibly.

Then he walked away.

The next day, Cersei and Myrcella picked up Sansa after breakfast and they drove downtown to meet with Catelyn Stark, as had been agreed the day before. Sansa wasn't too thrilled about going out that day (she had spent the entire previous day and night locked inside her room laying down in her bed, not wanting to do or think about anything) and had practically been forced out of bed by her always-enthusiastic future sister-in-law, but her mood changed immediately after seeing her mother waiting for her in the street, and also her sister-in-law Talisa and her childhood best friend, Jeyne Poole.

"Mom!" she exclaimed with the happiest of smiles in her face, and she ran away from the limo to go and give a hug to her mother. Her new bodyguards followed her, not happy at all by her impatience, but she wasn't going to wait for them. She didn't like having new bodyguards. She didn't like her old bodyguards either... There was just one bodyguard she wanted by her side.

Sadness filled her up after that thought, but it vanished when she hugged her mother, who was smiling just as happily as her.

"Sansa! Oh, you look beautiful!" her mother said, looking at her. "My, my! That island has done wonders to you!"

"Sansa is always beautiful," Talisa said while she went to hug her sister-in-law as well. Sansa greeted her happily, and squealed when she saw her childhood best friend Jeyne.

The only one that did not seem happy there was Cersei Lannister, who was looking at Talisa and Jeynewith a frown.

"I didn't know you two were coming..." she murmured in a less than cheerful tone.

Catelyn Stark glared at her. Both women had never particularly liked each other, even though their husband had been childhood best friends and had worked together until their deaths.

"Is there any problem, dear Cersei?" Catelyn asked coldly.

Cersei glared at her before smiling a fake sweet smile.

"None at all..."

She wants to control everything, Sansa thought bitterly. Her son has told her to watch my every move, and there's too many people here already. They were only expecting my mother.

Well, her family and her friends were there now. She wasn't going to waste the opportunity to spend time with them, even though the reason why they were spending time together in the first place was a nightmare for her. Those women were there as her entourage to go and get her wedding dress.

Well, if she had to do it, she best do it quickly.

"Shall we go in?" she asked, looking at the bridal store in front of them. Everyone else nodded, and they went inside the store.

As soon as they entered the place they were surrounded by body-length mirrors, mannequins with long and beautiful wedding dresses, gowns of all kinds of styles and shapes and shades of white and ivory and cream, and white and light yellow and pink flowers. The place was full of light, and it was like a dream. Sansa would have loved everything about it if she had been in another place, in another time, walking inside that store to find a dress to wear in a happy day and not in the nightmare that her wedding was for her.

She managed to hide her true emotions and cover them with a bright and big smile, fooling everyone into believing that she was overjoyed by what she was seeing. Behind her, her mother, Talisa, Myrcella and Jeyne gasped and sighed, enchanted by the place. Cersei didn't react in any particular way. She looked more like she was being assaulted by memories, and not particularly happy ones.

"I haven't been in a store like this in twenty-five years..." she finally murmured while she looked around, but everyone ignored her.

"I can't believe you've waited so long to get your dress, Sansa!" her mother exclaimed. "It's the most important thing for the bride!"

No, she wanted to say. The most important thing is to have a loving groom waiting for me at the altar, someone who wants to marry me because he loves me and really wants me. Someone to whom I want to swear eternal love and with whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. Instead I'm going to have Joffrey waiting for me at the altar."

A clerk came to the entrance to the store to greet them. She had been waiting for them, and because of who they were the store had been closed only for them, so that Sansa could find her dress in peace with no one else bothering her. At least she would have that small piece of comfort.

After the introductions the clerk (whose name was Laura) took them to an inner part of the bridal store, where she told the six women to sit down while she looked for dresses for Sansa. She asked which kind of dresses she liked: mermaid, ball gown, with lace, bling, modern, classic, what color (she had a really strong urge to say pink, just to scandalize Cersei)...

Sansa asked for all of them because, apart from the fact that she didn't know what she wanted, she couldn't care less. She wasn't a little girl anymore, dreaming about the perfect wedding and the perfect dress. She had always known what she had wanted back when she was naive enough to think that she could get what she wanted. Now that she wasn't even going to get the wedding that she wanted, why even bother with the dress?

No one noticed her lack of enthusiasm because she was still hiding it beneath a radiant smile.

"I'll come back with some dresses for you," Laura said with a smile.

She left for a couple of minutes and then came back to take Sansa to a dressing room. She had put the dresses there for her, and she helped Sansa to get into her first gown. After she was ready she returned to the part of the store where her entourage was waiting for her.

She was met with happy exclamations and "aaawwww"s from everybody when they saw her walking towards them in a long mermaid strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection there. She thought that she was staring at a stranger.

She had to admit that she looked beautiful in that dress. It suited her body perfectly and enhanced her curves, and made her look like a goddess. The white fabric contrasted greatly with her auburn hair, making it look fiery red. She liked the dress, but she didn't love it. She didn't love her in the dress. She didn't love her image as a bride.

"I love this one!" Myrcella exclaimed behind her, and Jeyne and Talisa agreed silently with her, nodding their heads.

"I think you look very pretty in this dress, Sansa," her mother said.

"Um, don't you think that it is a little... ordinary?" Cersei asked, frowning while she stared at Sansa. "There's nothing particularly special to the dress. You should wear something worthy of your status."

"Maybe it is too plain," Jeyne nodded, and Myrcella agreed with her, though Catelyn and Talisa rolled their eyes. Both Mrs Stark had never liked too much luxury, unlike the Lannisters, but Cersei insisted.

Sansa changed into another dress and returned to the mirror with a princess-like ball gown. Everyone disliked that one, because it was too puffy. The next one was a dress with a corset, which Catelyn and Talisa thought that was too vulgar, and even Sansa agreed to that. She tried a dress with bows, another one with bling everywhere (which Myrcella adored), a dress with black lace, a lace with embroidery, with lace everywhere, with tulle, with crystals, with pearls, feathers, flowers... Nothing seemed to be the perfect thing for everybody, and Sansa was starting to grow restless. She felt like some kind of doll, playing dress up for the amusement of everyone else. She wanted to scream louder and louder with every new dress that she tried on, she wanted to stop that nonsense and tell everyone that she didn't want to be there anymore, she didn't want any of it, but she couldn't and that made her want to scream even more with the hopes that somebody would hear her and rescue her from that hell.

"I'm tired," she finally protested at one point when she was told to go back to the dressing room.

"Oh, sweetheart, just a little longer," her mother said with a sweet smile. "No one ever said that finding the perfect dress was an easy task."

"Can we just try another day?" she asked. On one side she wanted to get rid of having to find the dress as soon as possible, but in the other hand she couldn't deal with it for a minute longer.

"We can't push this back anymore," Cersei said then. "The wedding is three months away, and with your tight agenda, finding another moment to get the dress will be a miracle."

"You do need to have the dress before you go on tour," Talisa said, and everyone else agreed.

Sansa looked at the dress she was wearing in the mirror. It had a tight bodice with a V neckline, and the skirt of the gown fell in different layers.

This feels wrong, she thought.

In other circumstances maybe she would have liked the dress. She did like the dresses that she was trying, but every time that she out them on she felt that she was putting a stain on something that should be pure and beautiful. She should be happy, she should be wanting to do all that. She should love to be a bride, and dream about walking down the isle in one of those beautiful dresses...

Maybe if the groom was someone else...

An image invaded her mind then. She pictured herself walking down the aisle with her perfect, white wedding dress, holding a beautiful bouquet in her hands, and with a long veil covering her face until the moment when the groom would remove it. She pictured herself reaching the altar and standing to face her soon-to-be husband, and then she pictured him gently removing her veil to look at her face... and the eyes that she found looking at her weren't cruel and green, but gentle and stormy grey instead.

Her lips moved, silently pronouncing his name. Sandor. Sansa came out of her day-dreaming and found herself standing in front of the mirror, still looking at the dress she was wearing. After imagining Sandor as the groom waiting for her at the altar she blushed furiously without being able to stop herself. The women behind her saw her and laughed.

"Sansa! You are blushing! What is it?!" Jeyne asked excitedly. "Is this the dress?!"

Sansa shook her head. She felt frustrated and angry after waking up from the day-dreaming, and two solitary tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them off with her hands, but everyone had already seen her crying. Instead of thinking that something was wrong with her they just believed that she was emotional like all the normal brides were on days like those.

"Oh, Sansa, don't cry!" Myrcella said. She stood up and went to hug Sansa, trying to cheer her up. "You look beautiful in everything, I'm sure you'll find the perfect one!"

"I'm sure you are right..." Sansa said.

"Should I try to find more dresses?" Laura asked then.

"Y-yes," Sansa said, wanting to find something. She would just try a few more on, see which one everyone liked, and just purchase that one. "I just have one small request. I know something that I want for the dress."

"Oh! What is it?"

Everyone looked at Sansa expectantly, filled with curiosity to know what detail she wanted for the dress. She took a deep breath.

"I... I don't want a white dress."

Her entourage gasped again, but this time in a shocked and slightly horrified way. Cersei was the loudest one of them all. Laura was the only one that didn't react that way.

"No white? Okay, what would you like the dress to be like, then?"

"Ivory, or cream. I don't care, just not white."

"Perfect, let me go and check what we have," Laura smiled, but before she could leave Cersei Lannister stopped her.

"Wait!" Sansa's future mother-in-law glared at her. "Not white?! This isn't the wedding of some common citizen, this is the wedding of the Governor! Do you know what kind of comments wedding dresses that are not white raise around here?!"

I don't want to dress in white, not for your son, Sansa wanted to yell. If it was up to her, she would marry Joffrey dressed in neon pink of she could, though maybe black would probably be more fitting.

"I don't want a white dress," she insisted, but Cersei ignored her.

"What nonsense! Bring more dresses, all white," she ordered to Laura.

"Lots of women get married in ivory or cream," Catelyn intervened, but Cersei scoffed.

"Maybe in the North, but not here. The gods know well that all respectable women dress in pure white in their wedding day. Or maybe you want the press saying negative comments about Sansa in the newspapers and magazines?"

Sansa resisted the urge to laugh.

Maybe I'm not a respectable woman, after all...

There was no way of fighting off Cersei. She wouldn't let Sansa purchase a wedding dress that wasn't white, and in the end Sansa just gave up.

Laura brought three more dresses. The first two ones were horrible; they were the most vulgar and ridiculous things that Sansa had ever seen in her life. The third one, however, was beautiful. As soon as she tried it on she knew that everyone would choose that one. She liked the dress, but she despised having to wear it under those circumstances. However, when she said yes to the dress, she managed to put on a fake but very convincing happy smile, and everyone cheered and clapped when she confirmed that she wanted that dress.

At least everyone else is happy, she thought, looking at her family and friend and the Lannister women.

She went back to the dressing room to change back into her normal clothes, but this time her mother went with her to help her out of the dress, and to talk a little bit away from eavesdropping ears. Once they were locked inside the dressing room, Catelyn gave Sansa a serious look that Sansa hadn't seen in a while.

"What was that?" her mother asked her. Sansa frowned.

"What was what?"

"That back there. You didn't look like you."

"What do you mean?"

"A year ago, you would have been over the moon on a day like this. You always talked about your wedding, remember? You had everything planned as a little girl. The dress, the church, the decorations, the venue, the reception, the flowers... Even the groom! Well, you got the groom you wanted, and now it's time for the wedding you've always wanted, but..."

Sansa sighed. "But what, Mom?"

Catelyn sighed the same way as her daughter. She looked worried and confused. She shook her head.

"I don't know! I look at you at times and... I see a woman in love!"

"You do?" Sansa asked, even more confused that her mother that time. She realized her mistake and asked again, this time in a more curious way. "I mean... you do?"

"Yes. Back there, when you were trying on the other dress and you blushed? Oh, sweetie, you looked adorable. Like a beautiful angel. Your eyes lit up like they were stars!"

"They did?" she asked again, softly this time, incredibly surprised. Her mother smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I've seen that kind of look only on women that are very in love... Which is why I don't understand why you suddenly have this attitude about the wedding."

"I don't have an attitude," Sansa retorted.

"That's precisely the problem. It looks like you are constantly thinking about other things and are not interested in this wedding! Is there anything wrong?"

Yes, many things were wrong, terribly wrong. She was getting married to an abusive man that happened to be the murderer of her father. It was worse than wrong, and Sansa couldn't say anything about it.

"Nothing is wrong, Mom, I'm just so tired... I travelled yesterday, and I didn't get much sleep." She wasn't really lying. She hadn't slept at all that night, and she was exhausted.

"Oh, yes, that trip must have been terrible. I still can't believe that Joffrey sent that bodyguard to accompany you, he scares me."

"Gregor Clegane is terrifying," Sansa agreed, remembering what a bad time she had had when Gregor showed up in the mansion out of nowhere.

"Oh, I didn't mean that one. The other, his brother, the one with the burned face. I hear they call him the Hound?"

Sansa felt a fire inside of her, caused by the irritation that she felt after hearing something remotely bad said about Sandor. She turned her head to face her mother and unconsciously glared at her.

"Sandor is a wonderful per..." she stopped mid-sentence, realizing her mistake. She blushed and lowered her gaze. "I mean... Clegane is a great bodyguard. The best one, actually."

She didn't notice the way in which her mother locked at her then, completely stunned after that revelation. Sansa but her lower lip nervously, hoping that she hadn't really messed things up. Luckily, her mother just shook he head and apparently decided to ignore that last bit of their conversation, returning to the matter of the wedding and the dress.

"Why don't you want a white gown?"

Sansa shrugged.

"I just don't want one. I prefer something a little bit darker."

"Cersei is right, the traditions here are not the same as in the North for wedding dresses. Incredibly, they are more conservative here..." Catelyn chuckled, but suddenly her smile faded, and her expression became one of concern. "You are not pregnant, are you?"

Sansa could have choked. She opened her eyes wide and gaped.

"No!"

"I was just asking! But good, it's better that way for now..."

They managed to get Sansa out of the dress and she changed into her normal clothes, a pretty dress with floral print and heels. While she was outing her hair in a ponytail, Catelyn asked her another question.

"The Oscars are just a few weeks away. Do you know what you are going to wear? Cersei talk about maybe going to another store after this to get you a dress. She envisions you in a crimson or gold and black dress, for some reason..."

Lannister and Baratheon colors, Sansa thought bitterly while she glared at her reflection in the mirror. They want to turn me into one of them and show it to the whole world.

No, she would not have it. The wedding would be Joffrey's dress, and his smoky could do with her whatever they wanted that day, but the Oscars was her night. Only hers. She would not be future Mrs Baratheon that day. She would not be property of the Lannisters. She would be her own woman, her own star. She would be Sansa Stark that night.

For the first time that day, she smiled genuinely, and rather defiantly.

"Don't worry about that, Mom. I already have my dress."

"Really? How is it?"

"You will see... It's a surprise."