I couldn't get the image of Sandor boarding a ship out of my head so I've played around with a little info from the books. Just roll with it. Also .. I think I may have inadvertently given Jack Sparrow a cameo here. This amuses me.

…...

The salt crusted longboat, pushed itself into the pebbled line of a shore. The Red Keep towered in front of him. It had been years since he'd turned his back on it, and now, he was there to face it once again. It would be easier to pace the halls this time around though. Little sorrow would be had for the both of them since the last time they had been there together.

Five years back, he had lurched drunkenly from the Little Bird's chambers to his own, searching for the last of his Tourney winnings while he wiped at the tacky blood and dried tears on his face. Stranger had been next on his list of the items he wished to take from the Keep. As lost in his cups as he had been an hour ago, adrenaline now blazed through the alcohol to leave him buzzing with focused energy. His limbs felt heavy but his mind was racing down a path he had not yet traveled in his life. Freedom. Twenty eight years old and he didn't have the slightest idea of what the word truly meant. He'd find out soon enough.

Roads seemed a dangerous way to travel. Too many guards to pass that way and his face would draw unwanted attention. If any call had been put out for him he'd have to fight his way through in order to keep the precious independence he'd just gained. On the eastern shoreline some of shipping docks had amazingly dodged the fire. Once he made his way there, he found a single ship hastily leaving the harbor to avoid the spreading green flames; the Captain glad to have him onboard for a price. Leading his horse, he placed silver into the sailor's hand, and put one boot on the ramp to the ship. He froze, one foot still on the dock, before finding his courage and advancing. There was no turning back now. Sandor Clegane had taken the first few steps into his new life.

The churning in his guts during the trip had little to due with the waves; it was brought on by the gripping, terrifying thought that he could do anything from this point forward. He'd seen a lot of land in his time but all under the order of men above him. Never of his own volition. He could go anywhere. His skills as a fighter would give him a position wherever he chose. He could set his own price and terms, not the other way around. There was no end to the possibilities that lay before him. Heart rapidly beating, he took in a deep breath and sighed. It was a new feeling, this almost tangible nervousness. It wasn't fear like the fire had given him. This trembling awareness was life. It was coursing through his veins at a pace he couldn't keep up with. The Captain walked by, seeing his shaking leg, and offered him a bottle. Rum. Not his first choice but it would do.

The only regret he had was the Little Bird he had left behind. His absence was sure to bestow more suffering upon the girl. He felt shame that he had abandoned her, but if he had stayed it would have been his head. He wasn't ready to lie down and die yet. Maybe, one day, they would meet again. If that happened, he would swear the rest of his days to her in service. She was the only master he wished for other than himself.

On the Quiet Isle the Elder Brother picked mercilessly at his memories of the Little Bird. So many whys were asked of him. Why did he protect her? Why did he not beat her as the others had? Why did he seek her out above all others the night the water had burned? He denied the truth. He fought it tooth and nail. Like a rabbit caught in a snare, he didn't realize the harder he struggled, the tighter the noose became. Choking, it poured forth from him one night, tears sliding down his face. He loved her! He loved what would never be his. If he could ever be granted time at her side again, he would never leave it. He would crawl on his belly through coals to have the chance at it. Even if it meant watching her wed another and raise a family; he would bear the torture so that he could continue on in her presence. Months turned into years and he never stopped loving her.

When the Elder Brother had told him of the Queen in the North's struggle he knew the holy man was giving his silent blessing. He packed his few possessions and left the following day. When he arrived there was no other man to stand in his way. The time spent apart had solidified his place in her heart as surely has hers had molded itself to his own. He told her of his love; he was tired of living in fear. The torch he carried for her had set him free of fear. It had carried him through the years of quiet reflection. It had put motion into his feet on that half rotted ramp to the Prayer. It had put strength in his voice when he refused to put himself in harm's way any longer the night of the Blackwater. She had cried at his words before pulling him down and placing her lips upon his, swearing her love in return.

Back on the shore before the Red Keep, his boots half in water and half on land, he turned to scoop his wife up into his arms. She could have walked on her own but he wouldn't allow her to dampen her feet when his arms could provide a solution. He carried her, bridal style, far up onto the shore, where no trace of sea remained. He didn't care who watched. He'd learned to embrace their love; to run towards and not away from that which made him happy. She kissed his cheek before he set her down. One hand on his arm, the brilliant candle of flame in his life led him through the doors of their new home.