It was a healthy compromise between carrying her off and leaving quietly, Sansa guesses, and it's enough to rile the crowd into cheering their king again. For her part, she's red as her hair, but she manages to keep her back straight and her head high. It's part of the tradition, after all, and words are wind. What happens behind closed doors is bound to be different than what they say is going to happen.

Sansa smiles at everyone and squeezes Daemon's hand before they get out into the corridor which is empty and much quieter than where they're all feasting in the hall.

"Well done, husband. I think it was just enough to please them, as much as we care about that. Now we can be about the rest of our night."