Chapter Text
Dark clouds rolled ominously in the sky above her. Please don’t rain.
Sansa rubbed her arms, hoping to chase away the chill. It didn’t work. She shook the sand off the hem of her nightgown and eyed the weather encroaching on her wedding day. The sun peeked momentarily from behind the clouds, briefly spreading a glittering cache of diamonds across the water.
She had dreamed of this day her whole life. She wanted it to be perfect.
Just then the wind picked up, making her flaming curls fly askew and the white tulle tied to the backs of the folding chairs dance. The simple decorations of flowers and fabric felt right for getting married in the Gods’ biggest cathedral. She reminded herself that it was still early morning. There was plenty of time for the weather to clear.
In just a few hours, she’d be marrying her best friend.
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“Do you remember, when you were just a little girl, how you would gather the whole family in the godswood and have your father marry you to Spider-Man? You had such a crush on Tom Holland.” Her mother said as she brushed her hair.
“Which time? I must have married him 50 times.” They both laughed while Cat tucked flowers into her daughter’s hair.
“You always dreamed that you’d marry the most handsome man in Westeros.” Cat put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and met her eyes in the vanity mirror.
“I can’t believe that dream is about to come true. IF he gets here in time.” She wouldn’t admit it, but she was getting a little nervous that he wouldn’t make it on time. Sandor had texted an hour ago to let her know that he and Bronn were caught up in mid-summer tourist traffic between Maidenpool and Crackclaw Point Beach.
“You know that man will be here if he has to move heaven and earth.” She continued fussing with Sansa’s hair. “You’ll take his breath away, you know. You’re absolutely radiant, as I knew you would be.”
Sansa swallowed the knot of emotion. “Thank you, mom.”
“Your father and I have hoped and prayed for many years that you would find someone brave and gentle and strong. Someone worthy of you. We couldn’t be happier with the one you found. He’s a good man, Sansa. We’re so proud to welcome him as our son.”
Pulling the lace handkerchief out that she’d tucked into her cleavage, Sansa dabbed her eyes and nose. Please, Gods, don’t let me bawl. I’ll never stop…
Rickon came storming into the room, all gangly limbs and fourteen years’ worth of awkwardness, dressed in a tux and sneakers. “They’re coming!” he shouted. “You should have seen them...sirens blaring...flying down the road! It was insane. Do you think they’d take me out for a ride later?”
Cat gave him a placating smile and brushed a strand of his wild hair behind his ear.
“We’ll talk to Sandor about it later, okay? Please, go tell your father to come in. We have to take our places.”
“Okay,” he said, ducking out of her reach.
“It’s time, sweetling. I’m so happy for you.” said Cat, as she bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to take my seat. I’ll send your father in.”
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Sansa rose to her feet when she heard her father enter the room. She took one last look at herself in the mirror. She smoothed her hands down her hips. The white gown hugged her curves, then fell into a frothy pile of lace and tulle around her feet. She looked down at her hands—the diamond solitaire now on her right ring finger in preparation for the wedding band to come on her left hand. She turned to her father.
“You look beautiful,” Ned said gruffly. “So beautiful.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Her father clasped the sheer bridal cloak around her neck, adjusting it carefully. Then he picked up the bouquet of seashells and handed it to Sansa.
“He’s one lucky man, you know that?” her father asked with a teary smile. “I don’t care how big he is, if he ever hurts you—”
”Sandor would never hurt me, Daddy,” Sansa said as her father tenderly kissed her forehead.
Sandor was out there, waiting for her, and while Sansa was a bundle of nerves right now, seeing him would make it better. She’d never imagined that she’d marry a soldier, a cop, but here she was, becoming the wife of one of Riverlands finest. It just so happened he was also the only man she’d loved so much that letting him go wasn’t even an option.
Her father stepped back to let Sansa pass out the door and into the empty foyer, then took his place beside her. She took a deep, tremulous breath. Beyond the doors, the music swelled.
“That’s our cue,” he said. “You ready?”
It wouldn’t have mattered what she said, because the doors swung open and all the guests rose to their feet at once. Sansa slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm and he put a strong hand over her fingers.
“Let’s go make this legal,” he murmured, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile back.
Everyone important to them was here...their friends and family, the marine family, the police family, the people who would dance the electric slide (poorly), drink with them (heavily), eat with them (to bursting), celebrate with them (wholeheartedly).
Sitting in the front row, her mother was already dabbing away tears with a tissue, and when she caught Sansa’s eye, she pressed one hand against her chest in a gesture of love. Above the sea of happy faces, there was Sandor, whose dark gaze locked on Sansa. He wore his dress blues, his hat perfectly straight and his white gloved hands clasped in front of him.
Fuck, Sandor mouthed, and Sansa stifled a teary giggle.
Then the musicians began the processional, and with a deep breath, Sansa stepped forward, her father at her side, into the rest of her life.