Prompt was "Sandor does not panic during 2x09; he fights bravely, saves the Joffrey's life and stays in King's Landing. During the scene in the throne room (after Joffrey has set Sansa aside for Margery) it is the Hound's turn: he is rewarded with lands and a title and may ask for anything he desires. He asks for Sansa Stark."
Sansa was free; free of Joffrey and free to go home. She walked away from Joffrey and as soon as she was certain no one could see her, a grin spread across her face. It was short lasted, though. Petyr Baelish crushed her hopes in a moment with a few words. It was true, though, wasn't it? Joffrey would never let her go when he could still punish her for whatever her brother did.
She stopped though, when she heard Joffrey speaking to the Hound. He'd fought through the fires, she'd heard, and had saved the life of the King. Joffrey was bestowing lands and titles upon him, and finally, as he had offered to the others, he promised the hound one thing he wanted in reward of his service. Sansa listened in, wondering what he could want.
"A wife," he mumbled and Sansa was slightly taken aback. Of all the things she'd have expected him to ask for… it wasn't that. "Face like this… no one would marry me without the command of a king."
It dawned on her then that if he got married, he'd probably leave King's Landing to be with his wife at his new castle, wherever that was. Sansa envied this woman, whomever she was, for taking the Hound away from her. Now she was to be left alone in King's Landing as Joffrey's prisoner without even the knowledge that she would one day be his Queen and have some power of her own.
"Was there a specific woman you had in mind dog?" Joffrey inquired. Sansa turned toward them then and watched as the Hound nodded. She wondered who he could possibly want as she'd never seen him in the presence of a lady… perhaps he did have a lover though, she'd only really ever seen him when he was in the castle or on duty as Joffrey's bodyguard.
"I'll have your leftovers if you're through with her, Your Grace." His voice was low, but everyone in the hall seemed to be holding their breath to hear whom he wanted. She was certain the women were all hoping he didn't ask for them. The King's leftovers though… Sansa wondered whom he could be referring to; she hadn't known Joffrey had a mistress.
"Yes, certainly," Joffrey said. "I have no idea why you'd want a stupid whelp like her, but I have no more use of her. She's yours. …Where is she?"
Sansa watched as the King looked around the hall, his eyes finally settling on hers. He grinned and glanced back to the hound briefly before looking back up at her.
"Yes. This will do well… Sansa, come here, won't you?" he called her over and it dawned on her then that she was whom the Hound had asked for. She was Joffrey's leftovers… and the Hound wanted her. She walked slowly to the front of the hall beneath the throne, and stood next to the Hound, not looking at him. "She is a pretty little thing, the perfect reward for my loyal dog." Joffrey looked back to the Hound, then. "You may marry her in a fortnight. Hear that Sansa? You'll be the bitch of the Hound. How does that suit you?"
"It pleases me Your Grace," she told him softly, bowing her head. "To be asked for in name by a formidable warrior is a great honour."
"You may escort your betrothed back to her rooms, dog," Joffrey said, dismissing them both.
The Hound turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room, people cleared a path for him as he walked and Sansa scurried along in his wake. He was silent as he walked, leading her back to her room. It would be two more weeks before it was her room no longer. She would never have a room to herself again, she realized, and thought how strange it might be to share a room with the Hound. She glanced over at him, but his eyes were set straight ahead and he looked unhappy.
"I didn't know you… felt any way about me, My Lord," she told him softly. Sansa had always thought he found her to be annoying… a stupid little bird whose chirping he put up with because he had to. She'd never expected him to have any deeper feelings for her… but if she was honest with herself, it thrilled her to know that at least someone felt any sort of longing for her. The Hound scoffed and Sansa glanced at him.
"As soon as this war is finished, you'll be going straight back to your family," he grumbled. "Perhaps your kingly brother will reward me for stealing you away to where the King's hands can't reach you."
Oh. Of course he only wanted her for the best reward he could find. If Joffrey won the war, he'd still be a Lannister man, keeping safe the wife he'd been given. If Robb won the war, he could claim that he was keeping her safe from Joffrey to give back to her family. How stupid of her to think anything else. Of course he didn't want her… he probably thought of her as just a stupid little child.
"Yes, of course My Lord," she mumbled. "I'm sorry. How silly of me to assume."
So now she had gone from being betrothed to a boy who didn't want her, to a man who didn't want her… but he'd asked for her… did that mean he at least cared for her in some small way? He had always been gentle and had protected her when he could… But no, now that they were to be married, he certainly had nothing to hide and if he'd any feelings for her at all, surely he'd mention it.
It was funny, Sansa thought later, when she was alone in her room, all a marriage really was, apart from a sort of legal agreement, was a man putting his cloak around a woman and promising to protect her. A thing Sandor had already done, really. He'd put his cloak on her in the throne room when Joffrey had ordered her stripped and beaten, and he'd promised to protect her when she tried to thank him for saving her from those men during the riot. He hadn't said it in so many words, but he did say he'd be the only one between she and Joffrey.
She was only slightly afraid of what he would do to her on their wedding night, but she supposed it was normal for a maiden to be frightened of that. Sansa wondered what her mother would think of all this… she'd probably be horrified that her daughter was being married to a brute like the Hound, but at least she would be safe and away from King's Landing.
For the days leading up to her wedding, Sansa remained nervous. She had wanted to speak to the Hound about it, but he never seemed to be around and she wouldn't risk running into Joffrey by seeking him out herself. He was probably just busy, she thought to herself.
Sansa never once saw her betrothed the entire two weeks leading up to their wedding. When she finally saw him, it was as she was walking through the sept toward him at their wedding. Her dress was beautiful and the cloak that had been made for her was lovely, but she just wished he would have spoken to her or at least been around in the weeks previous.
When she stood before him in front of the septon who was marrying them, she was close enough to give him a look over and see that he was clearly winesick and exhausted. She frowned in concern and wanted to ask if he was unwell and what was wrong, but he gazed stormily overtop of her head, refusing to look down at her or make eye contact with her.
The Hound's lips barely touched hers as he became her husband and while he let her take his arm and cling to him as they left the sept to go to their wedding feast, as soon as they were out of sight, he dropped his arm, letting her hand fall away from him and taking a few steps away from her. He wouldn't answer or even look at her when Sansa spoke to him and she gave up long before they had reached the Red Keep.
Sansa watched as her husband sat quietly brooding and guzzling wine. He didn't touch a scrap of food and unsteadily stood and walked from the hall before anyone could even mention the bedding. She waited for him to return, but it became clear that he wasn't coming back around the time calls went up to bring her alone to his chambers. No one mentioned that he'd left as men carried her up to his rooms, pulling her clothes off and suggesting bawdy things as they went.
When they reached Sandor's chambers, they shoved Sansa through the door, naked, and quickly left, clearly not wanting to spend any time near the Hound's personal space. She looked around and found herself alone. Not wanting him to find her rummaging around his things when he returned, she got into his bed, pulling the sheets half off of her body to look hopefully alluring for him when he came in. She must have waited hours, staring at the door, or down at her hands, but he didn't come to her. Day's first light began to shine in through the windows and she realized that he wouldn't be coming to her. She dressed in one of his shirts and quickly made her way to her own chambers where she fell into bed and cried herself to sleep. She wasn't even wanted by a man who had asked for her.
Sansa awoke later that day alone in her own chambers and it was as if the wedding had been a dream. She didn't feel any different... or actually married, for that matter. The next day was the same, as was the day after that. The only thing that even seemed different was that Sandor was nowhere to be found. She didn't see him at meals or while walking on her own in the Red Keep. Any time she saw Joffery, her husband was seemingly off duty or busy elsewhere. It was another week before Sansa saw him again. He was waiting in her room when she returned from breakfast and she started when she found him there.
"You startled me, My Lord," she explained, bringing a hand to her beating heart. "Have you been well? I haven't seen you…"
"Pack your things, we're leaving," he grumbled and headed toward the door. Sansa moved to stand in front of it, blocking his way.
"Where have you been?" she asked, crossing her arms over her belly.
"Drinking. Ready your things."
"Drinking? Why?" Sansa wondered why he would ask for her hand, only to abandon her for alcohol as soon as they were married. She began moving around her room, packing things into the trunk at the foot of her bed. "Where are we going?"
Her husband ignored her first two questions, but answered the third. "Brightwater Keep, in the Reach."
"We're going to the Reach?" Sansa looked up at him questioningly. She'd been sure that since he'd been given lands, they would have been in the Crownlands or the Westerlands.
"Brightwater was seized from House Florent. Joffrey gave it to me," he answered. "It'll be warm. It's near Dorne."
He sat waiting on her bed until she had finished packing her belongings. Once she had finished, she closed her trunk and stood back from it, not knowing what to do next. The Hound stood from her bed and barely looked at her as he swept from the room.
"Come, girl," he called in to her. "Your things will be brought."
She followed him out to the stables where his massive courser Stranger stood in the yard, already saddled. He mounted and then pulled her up behind him, letting her sit sidesaddle like a proper lady. She clung to him as he kicked Stranger into motion and they were off to their new home together.
It took nearly a fortnight to get to Brightwater Keep, but once they were there, Sansa decided she never wanted to leave. Her heart longed for home – for Winterfell, but the Reach was so lovely, she thought she might not mind staying there. Stopping at Highgarden on their way had been wonderful, but Sansa was glad to finally be off of Stranger's back. Riding behind her husband the whole way had been a pleasurable experience, though. Perhaps now that they were alone as Lord and Lady of their own keep, he would become more familiar with her…
Clearly this was too much to wish for, she found out their first night at dinner. Their things had been brought to their rooms and all of their servants were friendly and obliging, but Sandor was gruff and grumpy and quickly left Sansa to deal with the workers of their new home, shutting himself in his solar with enough wine to last a week. He did not come down for dinner and Sansa blushed as she heard the whispers in the hall and saw the glances to the empty seat beside her.
When she finished her meal, she went up to her own rooms. They were lovely, as everything in Brightwater Keep was, but she felt homesick and alone in this new and unfamiliar place. Instead of staying the night in her own room, she crept down the hall to Sandor's. She found it empty and the door to his solar was closed, but light flooded from the cracks around the door and she supposed he was within and drinking. Instead of bothering him, she slid into his bed and fell asleep rather than waiting for him to come to bed.
Sansa awoke the next morning in her husband's arms. He was snoring softly and looked much younger in his sleep. His breath reeked of stale wine, but he wore only his smallclothes and his hot skin was pressed against her body, so she couldn't find room to complain. A glance to the window told her it was late morning… or perhaps even afternoon. She slowly ran her fingers down her husband's abdominal muscles, watching as they flexed lightly under her touch. Her fingers crept into the dark hair that crept up from within his smallclothes and it was coarse but not unpleasant to the touch. He twisted a bit in his sleep and it was enough for Sansa to notice that where her thigh rested between his legs, there was a hardness pressing into her.
She lightly traced over the hardness and his hips shifted up a bit, pressing into her hand. Sansa glanced up to his face and found him still asleep so she grew bolder and lightly pulled his smallclothes down, revealing his hardened member to her. It was large and she knew it was supposed to fit between her legs, but it looked as if she tried, he would rip her open. She brushed her fingers over it and took it in her hand, feeling the silky skin and weight of it. He seemed to like that, even in sleep, and she did it more, squeezing tightly and stroking him. Sansa pressed kisses to his chest as he thrust lightly into her hand. He softly murmured her name and she looked up at him, startled, but found him still asleep. He thought of her, then… so he did want her. He must, but for some reason he was refusing to admit to it.
Sansa continued to stroke him, eliciting more noises from him as she pleasured him. His hips thrust into her hand and his breathing was harsh, she kept glancing up to see if he had awoken yet, but he remained soundly asleep. She was utterly fascinated with watching him while he was like this and she was the cause. Her name came to his lips often and after a short while he tensed and seed spilled from him onto his stomach and her hand. He groaned her name and she glanced up just in time to see his eyes fly open.
Sandor's expression quickly went from confused to angry and he pushed her away from himself, yanking his smallclothes up and covering himself with the blankets. He was clearly furious and not for the first time, Sansa was frightened of him.
"What in Seven Hells are you doing?" His voice shook with barely contained fury and he wouldn't meet her gaze.
"Giving you pleasure," she said softly. "I am your wife. What am I for if not to look after our home as well as giving you pleasure and children?"
"You are married to me in name, do not make the mistake of thinking that makes you my wife in truth. You will be whole and untouched when you are returned to your family, even if I have to chain you up and lock you in a room," he grumbled at her. He got out of bed and grabbed a pair of breeches that he'd discarded the night before, quickly pulling them on and storming out of the room.
Sansa sat alone on his bed for a long time afterwards. He had made her his wife and taken her under his protection but intended to do no more for her than that. She supposed he probably saw it as protecting her from himself as well and she wished he wouldn't. He was not handsome, but he was strong and brave and gentle. He was a true knight and, had Eddard known what she did of him, a man she was certain her father could have married her to. She knew the war could last years and that its outcome could even be unfavorable for her, but in the meantime, she had been given this man and she intended to claim him for her own. She knew now that he must want her but was just resisting because of her family or his honour, but he needn't do that as they were married in the eyes of the gods, even if it had yet to be consummated.
She decided then that she would become irresistible to him. She wouldn't press him on it as he could be just as stubborn as a mule, instead she would become the perfect wife and somehow make him see that he was what she had always wanted in a husband even with his scars and anger.
Sandor avoided her for days after that, shutting himself in his room and barring the door. He finally emerged nearly a week later for supper one night. He looked gaunt and ill and stank of sweat and wine and Sansa longed to know what was so wrong with being married to her that it was driving him to torture himself so. He didn't look at her, and barely touched his food, and before he could leave to go shut himself back into his room, Sansa excused herself from the hall and walked to his room, reclining on a chair in his solar to wait for him.
He staggered in a short while later, not noticing her until after he'd locked them both into the room. She cleared her throat and his eyes settled onto her in a glare.
"Get out," he grumbled at her, but she shook her head.
"Not until we've spoken," she softly told him. "Why are you behaving this way? You were the one who asked for me and I am trying my hardest to be a good wife and to please you, but you shut yourself in here and avoid me like I were a plague. This is no way to live."
"You are a plague," he whispered harshly. "I'm already infected and you're not helping or making it better."
"What can I do?" she implored. "All I want is to help you."
"Just leave me alone. You'll be with your family soon enough and you can forget you ever had to marry the horrible King's horrible dog."
"You are my husband," Sansa spoke slowly, begging him to understand her. "You are my family; the only family I have right now. You will be my family until you are no longer my husband. Unless you'd prefer to ask for an annulment and send me back to King's Landing, I wish you'd start acting like it. You chose this so stop treating me like I forced you."
He glared at her but said nothing. Instead, he strode across the room and pulled her up from the chair she had been sitting on. She thought he would throw her out then, but instead, he seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment before pulling her close and crushing his lips to hers. Sansa clung to him and kissed him back with as much ferocity and hunger as he was kissing her with. She could feel his heart beating wildly and his harsh breaths into her mouth and it all just made her dizzy and made her long for him in a way she hadn't known she could. The pain was almost physical, like an empty space behind her stomach only he could fill.
"You need someone better," he spoke softly against her lips and she shook her head until his hands came up to hold her still. "No. Listen. You are perfect and beautiful. You deserve to have a handsome and strong knight who will treat you gently – you're not for a despicable old hound who has nothing to offer you but a bloody sword."
"But I don't see you like that," she told him. "You've saved me so many times – I can't even count them all. You promised to protect me when you married me. Make me your wife in truth, keep me safe and my brother will reward you – perhaps with lands in the North that we may give to our son, but don't treat me coldly only to cast me aside once my brother comes for me. You took me as a wife, not your ward… please Sandor?"
"Do you know what your family will have done to me should they win this war and find you with me, no longer a maiden?" he asked, scowling.
"When they come, I'm certain they would rather hear you treated me properly as your lady wife. They would hear that I willingly and happily bore your children – that I have been treated gently and been well cared for and kept safe. It would lessen any anger they should hold for you to hear that I have been happy here. Perhaps you could even come to have feelings for me. You could tell them you love me and want only my happiness, whatever that may be. I'm certain my mother will be far more pleased to hear any of these things than to know you took me as your wife and then refused to honour me as such – that you were cold and shunned me as if I was a thing you didn't want and had no interest in," Sansa breathed heavily as she ranted at him. Her voice was not raised, but she still felt nearly intimidating. "My family would much rather that you took me for love than to hear you were just trying to get the greatest reward and profit on me. Of course it isn't true, and you don't love me, but we could be happy and I could give you sons and when they came, they needn't know it was all for profit in the beginning."
He said nothing but stared at her grimly.
"Unless you really just would rather be rid of me," she said softly, her heart falling. She wasn't sure why she felt so disappointed at the thought of him not wanting her. It wasn't as though she'd dreamt of having him as a husband, but now that he was hers, he refused to allow her to be a normal wife to him, and that hurt.
Sandor turned from her and sighed, she thought he meant to leave her again, but he merely leaned against the door and ran his fingers along the wood grain of it. He turned back to her after a short while and took her hand in his, pulling her in close to his body. He stood close to her for a long while, not speaking and only touching where their fingers were entwined.
"Seven hells," he sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You'll be the death of me."
Sansa let him lead her out of his solar and into his chambers. She let herself be guided toward the bed and looked questioningly up at him when he stopped just short of it, looking down at her and stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He gently lifted her chin up and bent to meet her lips with his own. It was a slow kiss and she allowed him to put his tongue in her mouth again. As they kissed, she could feel his hands roaming across her body and felt as he began to unlace her dress. She let him and assisted when he fumbled. It didn't take long for her to be standing before him in only her smallclothes.
Sansa pressed her body close to his and felt him panting and shuddering lightly as she ran her hands over him and began to undress him as he had done her. Once he stood against her in only his smallclothes, the bulge between his legs held most of her attention. She'd already seen it and she knew he was large, but now that she knew he'd be going inside of her in just a short time, it made her nervous. She glanced back up at him and saw heated desire in his eyes. She gave him a small smile and clung to him as he lifted her and gently placed her on the bed before bracing himself above her.
They kissed for a long while as they let their hands roam across each other's body. Sansa was trembling beneath him by the time he yanked her smallclothes from her body. He placed light kisses over her hips and then returned to her mouth, placing one of his hands between her legs. He stroked her there and seemed pleased and even more aroused to find her wet and ready for him. She pushed down his smallclothes, glancing down as he sprang free from the confines of them, and let him move away to remove them entirely. He quickly returned to her and she spread her legs for him, letting him rest between them and arrange himself at her entrance.
Sandor looked questioningly into her eyes and Sansa gave him a shy smile before leaning up to kiss him, trying to tell him that way that she was sure and ready for him. He pushed all the way into her in one smooth thrust and she cried out as she felt him stretch her open and tear through her maidenhead. It hadn't been brutal or unkind, he was clearly just trying to get the worst of it over with as quickly as he could. He paused, sheathed within her. Sansa bit her lip and wiggled a bit, trying to get used to the painful invasion. Sandor kissed her and gently stroked his hands over her body.
"Worst part's finished," he mumbled. "Just relax, I'll try and be done soon."
Sansa watched him and felt his muscles ripple, flex, and twitch as he moved over her. It did hurt, but there was also a pleasure in it that she knew would get stronger the next time they did this and it was no longer painful for her. Her husband's jaw was clenched, biting back all the delicious sounds she longed he'd let himself make. His eyes were shut tightly, but she watched his face contorting in bliss and she tentatively thrust her hips up against his. It did nothing to help the pain, but his eyes shot open to me hers when she did it and she smiled up at him. His harsh breath on her skin and the way his arms were beginning to shake told her that he was close to peaking. She stroked her hands over his back and peppered kisses where she could reach his skin.
Sandor shuddered and climaxed with a stiff groan he'd obviously tried to suppress. Sansa could feel his seed spill into her, filling her with hot stickiness. She felt it on her thighs when he pulled out and collapsed next to her in exhaustion. He threw an arm over her waist, pulling her close and set his lips against her forehead, making no motion to move from the position.
"I asked for you because I love you," he admitted with a whisper and Sansa grinned, even though she knew he couldn't see it.
"I know," she told him and shifted in his arms to move a hand to her belly. His seed could be quickening inside her already to give them a child. Her wish for such a long time now was for happiness and she was certain that he could make her happy and that she could make him happy as well by giving him the family life he'd never had.
In time, she knew she could come to love him as well and with the way he felt about her, she didn't think it would take her long to return his feelings. Glistening with sweat and her thighs sticky with her blood and wetness, and his seed, Sansa was content for the first time in a very, very long while.