The Traitor's Wedding

Epilogue

Shae shoved the packs she had in her arms into Sandor's hands, ignoring the angry look the ex-Knight sent to her. Sansa moved aside the painting and tapestry to reveal the small channel, dark and foreboding. A glance told her the torch they'd used previously was still hanging on the wall. Sansa reached up and pulled it down so she could light it. Once the torch was lit, she turned around and noticed what Shae held in her hands; Sandor's sword.

He was looking at her, suspicion clear on his face, even as he took the hilt of his sword from her hands. Shae didn't even respond to his look, just handed each a dark cloak that had been bundled under her arms and said, "Now, keep these on and over your head. When you reach the end of the map, you'll be at a wooden door. Wait there, don't make a sound. The Queen of Thorns will come for you when the evening is clear and you can get away safely."

"Do you know anything else about the plan? Where we might be going? Or how she plans to help us out of here?" Sansa asked, ignoring Sandor as he growled and opened his mouth to argue already.

"I have nothing. This is all I was told. I'm sorry." The foreign girl surprised Sansa by hugging her tightly. She whispered, "Take care of yourself and the child. It is the most important thing. Promise me, you won't worry about no one else."

Sansa murmured, "I promise," even though she knew she would only worry about the child and Sandor. Her own self wasn't nearly as important.

Shae let her go and told her, "Go now, before someone spots us."

Sansa nodded and turned to Sandor. He hadn't bothered to put the cloak on and he looked ready to argue some more. Timidly, she said, "Just trust me a bit longer."

He snarled at her. "You want me to blindly go into whatever the fuck this passage is, with a plan those manipulative bitches of High Garden started up, and you have no clue what the fuck is going on-"

"Oh, stop arguing!" Shae cut in, her glare heavy and her hands on her hips. "You want your wife murdered or beaten? Or would you rather sit around here and wait until she's carrying a child-and no, don't you dare argue that wouldn't happen, I know neither of you had bothered trying to protect against it. When that cunt King finds out that she's carrying, what do you think he'll do? He'll want to hold you back and cut the baby right out of her belly. He'd torture it, in front of the court and probably let your wife bleed to death."

Sansa tensed at her words and she hunched her shoulders almost protectively. When she glanced at Sandor, she noticed for the first time a look she'd never seen before. He looked almost predatory-like and protective and so angry to hear those words. Without another word, he hoisted the packs over his shoulder, took hold of Sansa's arm, and started into the tunnel. Sansa turned around and waved back at her handmaiden, wishing she'd had a chance to thank her for the help. But Sandor's grip was tight on her arm and she knew he wouldn't have the patience to wait any longer.

Sansa's hand was on her belly as she followed her thoughts on what might be happening next. She stumbled on the stairs twice trying to keep up with Sandor. Eventually, she had to ask, "Can we stop a moment?"

"You wanted to get the fuck out of here, that's what we're doing," he groused out, sounding far from happy with his words.

"I need to know where we're going-"

He stopped almost as suddenly, scowling and glaring at her. She took out the map and handed it to him wordlessly. Her stomach was flipping again, unhappy with the fast movement and the food she had consumed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then straightened up, and said, "We can keep moving." He did so without a word and this time he didn't grab hold of her. She kept at his heels, cautious of the darkness behind her.