*Copyrights:

- I do not own anything related to G.R.R. Martin´s works, or to the 1997 film Titanic. And I mean no disrespect to the historical figures that appear in this work, as my interpretations of them were inspired by the film.

- Throughout the story I use lines from the both ASOIAF books, the Game of Thrones show, as well as from the script of the Titanic movie, along with it´s deleted scenes and some of the documentaries from it´s special features.

- I tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but if I didn´t I blame my fanfic writer´s creative license for that!

*Warnings:

- Westeros + Titanic = major character death. But also, it´s going be angsty at parts, since it explores themes such as PTSD, physiological and physical abuse (nothing too explicit of the latter), attempted sexual assault (nothing explicit), and some nonconsensual situations (nothing explicit).

Chapter 1: Beautiful Sansa Stark

Out there in the horizon was the grand ship that the whole world was calling the pride of the White Star Line- the RMS Titanic. It could be seen from several blocks away, towering above roofs and the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city. Beautiful Sansa Stark was staring with a growing sense of dread at the imposing steamer from one of the bedroom windows in her suite at The South Western House, while it waited for departure on the deep waters of the White Star Dock down at the harbour.

Since as long as Sansa could recall all everyone had been talking about for months with nothing but awe and the highest of praises was that colossal white and black machine. This morning from other windows dozens of people were also gazing out at the Titanic, but Sansa wondered if she was the only one who was not looking forward with anticipation to boarding the largest ship yet launched in history.

I gather I probably am, Sansa resignedly contemplated, trying very hard to wait patiently for the ill-fated hour that the imminent knock on her door would mean.

She had changed into two different outfits, and was now at last ready to go. Her nails were trimmed, and her auburn hair was arranged into a huge pompadour that could seat perfectly her enormous intricate hat- the biggest she owned. It made Sansa smile a little to recall a morning at the horse races when Cersei had been asked to remove a hat of similar size due to all the people behind her who could not see what was happening. Her future mother-in-law had not been one bit pleased by that, but to Sansa is was a fond memory.

The Olympic-class ocean liner was about to embark on its maiden voyage with New York in America as its destination, carrying more than a thousand people of all nationalities, social classes and ages across the seas. Sansa was one of those souls, but hers was to be a one-way passage voyage since she had no idea when would she be returning to England, her homeland. She had been aboard other luxury liners before, but even at this distance it was evident to her that this was the biggest ship she had ever laid eyes on.

She had declined to join Joffrey and Tommen the previous afternoon when they went to the docks to get a better look at the exterior of the large vessel, for Sansa had no desire to get close to that ship before she absolutely had to. From this distance she could already make out many of the details that made up the steamer, from its four tunnels to its Stars and Stripes and Union Jack flags at its bow and stern, and even its White Star banner at its center below the code flags. In any case, Titanic had gone against tradition and had not been open for public inspection prior to her launch, so Sansa's request to stay behind at the hotel so she could rest had thankfully not been challenged.

It was not yet midday of April 10th 1912, but the city of Southampton had already come alive as it prepared for the special event that was to take place in less than two hours from now. Great assessments of people could be seen at the distance, and loud noises could be heard coming up through the open windows of the bedroom, composed of excited cries and the bustle of the masses below in the streets that added to the cacophony of sounds belonging to the loud motors and the hocking of automobiles.

But Sansa was only dimly aware of it all. She was attempting to force herself to remain calm, but since it was impossible to take a deep breath with her corset laced so tightly, she had to settle with twisting tightly in her hand part of the curtain of yellow silk beside her. Yet even in these brief blessed moments of precious privacy it was difficult to try and ignore the knowledge of what would happen to her once the Titanic set sail, however much she wished her mind would stray far away from reality if only for a brief moment.

Just as if he had known that she was relishing her solitude, Joffrey´s voice suddenly carried through the closed door from the room next to hers. The sounds of her fiancé talking made Sansa clench her jaw tightly. She had promised to herself to try and accept her fate and be a bit more considerate and attentive towards Joff, if only to just make her situation a little less difficult to bear, but it was so hard for Sansa to keep that promise.

Specially after her betrothed requested from her to do things she had no desire to do, just as he had done three quarters of an hour ago when he instructed her to change from her initial chosen outfit for today into one that was socially considered more suitable. Yet black had been the perfect colour to match her mood. There was nothing about today for her to celebrate. Maybe they´ve forgotten Uncle Robert, but I won´t ever stop mourning Father.

But the truth went even deeper than this. Joffrey's past behaviour towards her was impossible to forget, not matter how much her fiancé tried to make it up to her by playing the gracious gentleman. Perhaps the fact that he at least tried to make amends should have made Sansa feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. Sansa knew Joff could be gallant when it suited him, but it seemed to suit him less and less with every passing day. She knew that all his courtesies could vanish in the blink of an eye with the slightest of provocations.

With a long loud sigh she shook her head and closed the window. Sansa turned sharply away from the morning view, crossing the bedroom to the corner farthest from the door and Joffrey's voice. To a stranger chancing to walk through the doorway, (had the door not been closed and locked), Sansa Stark would have made the perfect picture of what a well brought up girl should be like, from her tailored matching clothes to the natural composed manner in which she carried herself at almost all times.

People never failed to remark how elegant young pretty Miss Stark always looked, and she was in truth an admirable product of years of practicing the rules of femininity under the watchful eye of Mademoiselle Mordane. An education which had certainly left its mark on Sansa's already graceful character- to the point where even in moments such as these when she was all alone in her bedroom, with her doomed future looming before her like a deep dark void, Sansa nonetheless calmly sat down with a straight back upon the chair before the vanity table at a corner of the bedroom, and stared at her reflection in the mirror with empty eyes, waiting for the fateful knock on the door.

Yes, Sansa was the perfect portrait of a lady, though nobody knew what a high daily cost she had to pay in order to be able to be worthy of such a title. And if society suspected they preferred to ignore such a fact, for the truth of the matter was that it was ever so much more conventional for the world to pretend that Sansa was far from being a miserable barely seventeen year old girl, even if she did feel afraid for all the lonely hours of the day, with every smile costing her the greatest of increasing difficulties.

The Lannisters were certainly aware of her misery having been the ones to shatter Sansa's dreams and hopes, but so long as Sansa behaved properly at all times and played along in the twisted game they lived in where she was expected to act as if there were no hard feelings between them, the lions -her captors- did not really care how empty she felt inside. So why should others mind?

Indeed, strangers to the circles she moved in might wonder why poised, graceful, innocent Sansa Stark should have any cause to be unhappy, for she was well educated, well endowed, regal of bearing, and could sew, dance, sing and write poetry, besides knowing how to dress- all attributes many young girls might envy her for.

Sansa played the high harp and was very beautiful, with high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tully´s. Her beauty was so great that not even her losses and the recent disgraceful scandal surrounding her father´s death and that of her inheritance could diminish it in the world´s eyes.

Sansa's small even breaths and the click click of the small golden watch that was resting on one of the corners of her vanity table were the only sounds interrupting the stillness of the bedroom now. Her piercing blue eyes, which she also had inherited from her mother's side of the family, vacantly gazed at the sight Sansa made this morning in the mirror, even as she thought, I hardly know myself anymore.

Through the looking glass a creature of porcelain beauty who was not in control of her own life was staring at her, making her feel more than ever as if she had become a ghost somewhere along the road, dead before her time. Her life was over before it had begun.

Life is not a fairy tale, Sansa had learned to her sorrow some while ago. Who am I these days? Who is this strange girl sitting before me with big empty eyes that reflect misery rather than innocence?

The persistent click click of the watch finally managed to break through Sansa's train of thoughts, and as her stare fell on the time (10:45), her pulse quickened, and her chest began to rise and fall at a faster pace, constricting her ribs inside her already binding corset. Sansa let her eyes wonder over the smooth wooden surface of the vanity momentarily, only to gulp as she raised her left hand to the side of her face so she could secure one of the jeweled hatpins beneath the big bow of her hat.

She stilled the moment she caught sight of the engagement ring decorating her finger. There were times when she could manage to forget she was carrying this dreadful rock, but sooner or later one of Joffrey's most expensive reminders that he owned her would made itself be felt or noticed. Long ago when Sansa had been little, she had spent countless hours dreaming on how her wedding ring would look like, imagining from its size and colour, to the way it would feel once it was on her finger, and the look on everyone's face when she showed it to them.

Mrs. Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa thought, contemplating the ring even after her hatpin was secured.

Once she would have envied the girl who got to possess a jewel such as the one she carried now, but now to Sansa it was only a ridiculously opulent shameful thing- a twelve carat yellow diamond set in Lannister gold that meant she was tied to a man to whom she felt nothing but contempt and dislike for; a reminder that she apparently had everything a girl in her position could dream of, and yet she had nothing that really mattered.

They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly, for everything she owned in the world was a gift from Joffrey. From the clothes on her back to the food on her plate, they were all a present from him. I'm dependant on him and always will be, as he is so fond of reminding me…

Yet again for the fourth time in the past hours, Sansa's mind strayed back to the moment when she had woken up- possibly due to her musings on the man whom she was going to join herself to in marriage less than a month from now, under the eyes of God and men.

Dawn, she had thought as she woke up, stretching under the bedcovers like a lazy cat with a smile on her face, every nerve atingle. Another day. Another new day. Nightmares of the time after her father had died still troubled Sansa's sleep sometimes; dark suffocating dreams that woke her in the black of night struggling for breath. But last night's dream had not been like that. Home, she had realized quickly. It was a dream of home.

"Sweet one," her father had been telling her gently, as tears ran down her eyes because her music tutor Mr. Dahlin, whom Sansa has fancied herself to be in love with when she was nine years old, had left their service to go back to Sweden. "Listen to me. You're being silly. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a man who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong..."

Sansa had been so little and naive that she had believed her father blindly, and had hugged Lady, her puppy, closer to her, reassured and quite content. It was for those old days Sansa hungered for. She prayed for them even if she knew it was useless, for they were never meant to be again.

Morning light had ended up stealing into Sansa's sleepy thoughts like a thief soon enough, and then the dream had faded, and her father and Lady were dead again, and she was bound in marriage to Joff. Don't, Sansa told herself, when she realized tears were about to fall down her cheeks.

She blinked them back as the reminiscences faded away. She had already silently wept her eyes dry last night, and couldn't afford to cry at present. That beautiful dream of long ago had ended and her only road was forward.

"Sansa!"

Lost in thoughts and in memories of the past -in happier days of a better life than the one she was forced to live now- the loud voice and sudden knock did not fail to startle Sansa, even driving a small gasp from her.

She didn't like to weep when or where they could see her, but sometimes the memories of her father came unbidden, and then it was really hard to hold back her grief. She tried not to think of her father or her life before the Lannisters too often, but in truth Sansa would have given to go back.

A heartbeat later the rap came again, more sharply this time. Be still, or else you'll betray yourself.

"Do you hear me?" her fiancé wondered through the door. "Open up! What the deuce are you doing in there? We're really running late now. Come out!"

He calls me as if he were calling a dog, she thought.

"I'll be outside in a moment," Sansa called back in answer, shaking her head in an attempt to gather herself as she reached out with trembling hands for her white and purple gloves and her matching tightly rolled umbrella, gulping.

She pushed herself out of her chair, and quickly pinched her cheeks with one hand and bit her lips to draw some colour to her pale face. I must look pretty, and I must be as strong.

She knew she would get reproaches from the lions if they didn't arrive at the docks at a convenient time, but she did not particularly care much for that. Rather than hurrying outside at once, Sansa walked over to the body length mirror beside the vanity table.

Sansa protested a few times in little ways like this- making them late for an appointment, or saying the inappropriate thing over dinner. Anything she could think of that was rebellious and would therefore make her feel alive once again.

Sansa got a good long look at herself from head to toe now. After Joffrey had told her to change, Sansa had taken out her expensive large hat and her white and purple strapped jacket and narrow skirt, which was made out of a rich fabric and had many layers to it. The whole setup consisted of a skirt, a white blouse with a velvet high collar, a double breasted long jacket which had a belt at the waist and white and purple buttons on the front and back of it which were covered in velvet.

In some lights the purple stripes looked a deep blue colour, and her small tie had a diamond shaped brooch with gold settings, and an amethyst in the middle with gold vines extending from the stone to the edges of the brooch as a tiepin. Sansa's earrings and her high curved shoes with criss-cross straps at their front were her favourite accessories of this outfit though. She could not help but think that due also to her corset, her figure resembled that of an hourglass, just the way women looked like in the latest fashion magazines.

The lions won´t be pleased though, Sansa thought with a smirk, as she turned around to admire the backside of her outfit. It was beautiful, but white was not the appropriate color to wear when one traveled. Cersei would know and probably remark about it. Let her.

She didn´t care anymore if other people were shocked by her decision to wear a light color today. The only things that bothered her about her garments were that they had been bought and paid for by Joffrey in his latest trip to Paris, and that due to her situation even the things Sansa had once loved -like fashion- were slowly becoming an increasing symbol of oppression.

At least I won't have to change three times today, she reasoned, since it was not expected of anyone to change during their first evening aboard a ship's journey. If only I could dress up for people I love again.

Sansa held her breath as she finally walked across the bedroom some moments later with her head held high, and waited till her hand was on the doorknob to don the pretty smile on her face she used to hide her sorrows.

And now it comes, Sansa thought, opening the door and crossing the threshold. She walked into the adjacent room, bracing herself for the charade she was required to perform whenever she was with Joff and Cersei, only to stop at once a heartbeat later in utter surprise.

She drew a little intake of breath, and realized a moment too late that her mouth was hanging open in a big O. Across the room was the one person Sansa Stark would have least expected to find, and that was all it took for all her self-possession to fade away instantly, since the man before her brought back all the memories she had been trying so hard to suppress.

With only one look he could make Sansa feel like a fool because of the composed behaviour she tried so hard to appear she possessed. This tall impressive man with shoulder length black hair looked exactly like the last time Sansa had beheld him, but it wasn't due to these things that Sansa would have recognized him anywhere. It was because it was not easy to forget once you saw them, the burn scars that covered half of Sandor Clegane´s face.

So… I´m back with this fanfic! It´s all done, so you don´t have to worry it´ll be left unfinished (hehe). I´ve had this idea on my mind for three years now (the first two chapters were actually done back then), but I really began working on it over this summer.

And now five months later it´s all completed, along with a photoset for each chapter. It felt amazing to get back into the habit of writing, and now I can only hope you will all enjoy the final product as much as I liked coming up with it! But please bear in mind though that English is not my first language and I didn´t have a beta check it out beforehand.

Expect a new chapter every week!

Lots of love,

Caroh99 :)