Author's note

/ Read please \

I'm a french author, i did my best to translate my texts in english :D Hope it will be readable ^^

Title explained : We french have an expression who describe when two people/ animals don't like each other : "Comme chien et chat" - "Like dog and cat", so I made a pun on Arya and Sandor with their nicknames ^^

Bonjour :D You're about to read the prologue of my first fic Game of Thrones! I decided to go on the pairing Sandor x Arya, because you see, I had a good feeling with this little duo :D I started writing before the release of season 8, so I guess that I will modify a little bit the storyline of the series, while keeping some elements that I liked, or not ... Finally we'll see, I have no precise plan, it comes over the pen x) Besides, I'm totally messy in my pace of publishing chapters, since I do not write chapters in advance before posting the first ... It comes when it comes :')

Disclaimer: the universe of Got and his characters belong to George R.R Martin.

Good reading !

Prologue

...

Sandor Clegane was sitting on a log of wood, at a reasonable distance from the campfire, which projected shimmering nitescences on the tents and the surrounding trees. The crackling of the hearth mingled with the creaking of the stone on the steel, and the dancing gleams sometimes met with brief sprays of sparks. The man finally placed his blade in the golden light of the hearth to examine the thread and then, satisfied with his work, sheathed the sword. He got up slowly, stretched his legs numb by the cold and went to his tent.

The nicknamed The Hound half opened the canvas with a gesture of the arm then entered the shelter. He took off his gloves, ran a large hand over his face to rid the flakes and drops of water mixed with his sweat. He then removed the metallic structure of his armor, his cuirass and his coat of mail in order to be clothed with several layers of linen and soft leather, to spend the night. Clegane grabbed a gourd carelessly hanging on the back of a chair and carried it to his lips, savoring a large swig of beer. He sighed happily as he threw the empty container on a table, headed for his mattress lying on the floor in the back of the tent and then lay down. He then placed his sword next to his bunk and pulled several blankets over him until he was completely covered. The days as well as the nights were becoming colder, seeing deadly cold for those who were ill equipped. How long can he sleep under proper conditions? Winter is coming, and he brings death with him.

Death is coming, he has only seen it too well. Clegane was confused, he didn't know what to do, what to think. In the immediate he was following Jon Snow and his allies who were journeying north to prepare for the great war, but he was torn between the desire to leave this accursed country or to try to fight the white walkers with the others. Finally, he just hoped not to die before settling his differences with his brother, it would be a shame. After all, his only goal in his life was revenge.

The Hound let out a groan of fatigue and closed his eyes, trying to put aside his veiled thoughts and plunged into a without dreams sleep.

...

Sansa Stark received a raven that settled in her bedroom window in the early morning. She pulled out a paper from the greenhouses of the ebony bird and unrolled it carefully. It was a message from Jon, he informed her that the conversation with Daenarys and Cersei in Port-Réal had gone pretty well, and he had gone back to the North. He will be back to Winterfell in a few weeks. The young redhead gave a reassured smile and folded the word she put in a her dress's pocket. Then she went out of her quarters and surveyed the corridors of the castle in search of her sister as well as his close advisers to announce the news to them.

A little more than two weeks passed when the men posted on the watchtowers signaled the appearance of Jon and his allies in the distant white. Then the servants put the apartments in order, the cooks prepared the lunch, the grooms spread a fresh straw for the horses, and the soldiers put on their armor to receive the lord of the North with dignity. While Sansa stood in the courtyard of the castle to receive the newcomers, Arya preferred to stand on the walls to observe the arrival of the troops.

Motionless and impassive at the top of her perch, the young brunette waited until the cortege was close enough and began to detail the faces of the men at his head. She quickly recognized her brother and made a slight smile. There was also Gendry, who had escaped the fraternity without Banner and the Red Woman. Arya continued her inspection as she caught sight of the figure of an imposing man riding a horse that was just as strong. She narrowed her eyes, septic. So he survived ? she thought. Who would have thought it ? Not her.

She was rather surprised to see him again, she still left him dead, mortally wounded in the bottom of a ravine. She pushed that memory away into her mind, she didn't like to rethink it, it gave her a strange feeling. It wasn't guilt, no. It was more akin to a certain anger that she felt towards him at that moment and who resurface as soon as she remembere. It would have been a bitter and painful anger, the one we feel when we are helpless, totally helpless, lost, disappointed, and that the situation escapes us.

The young woman, after observing the rest of the arrivals without recognizing any other familiar features, thought it was useless to stay and decided to join her sister. She rushed into the mazes of the castle, her stoic gait echoing the resonance of a regular and assured pace.

...

Thanks for reading ! Feel free to express yourself via reviews, it would make me very happy ^^ If some of you enjoyed my work and want to help me to make better translations, I accept with joy XD