Chapter One

Sansa Clegane decided she hated anything that required going over water, whether it was a boat or a ship like Secondwind or some other form of water travel. She almost despised them. Who in their right mind wanted to be on a piece of wood that rocked and swayed with the ocean waves? It was hard enough to sleep on a regular night, much less with this movement. And forget about walking! It really didn't help she was continuously gaining weight around her middle so she felt all the more unstable.

What was the worst part out of all of this? Secondwind's movement continuously made her nauseous, more than she had been since she found out about her baby. The difference between being sea sick and her pregnancy sickness were so much worse. Seasick made her more physically sick and exhausted than her baby ever did. She couldn't even stop eating a bit to relieve some of the nausea, for fear she might end up starving the growing life inside her.

On this morning, the ninth day on Secondwind, Sansa started out about the same as any other day. She was lying in bed on her side, uncomfortable on her back, feeling another wave of nausea as Secondwind lurched to one side suddenly. She grumbled and tried shifting onto her other side. In her hand, she had the amethyst hairnet Lady Olenna had given her. She had been studying the intricate threading and beading since she'd gotten on this ship. She'd noticed the missing stone almost immediately on the first day she was aboard. She remembered the stone Lady Olenna had pressed into her hand and she had put the amethyst back in place. The gem slipped back in snuggly and hadn't fallen out since.

She wondered why the Queen of Thorns had had her wear the piece to the wedding. She remembered the older lady touching the hairnet, adjusting it at the wedding. As they were departing, Lady Olenna had talked once again about the payment and touched the hairnet a last time. The Queen of Thorns had had the piece in her hand and given it to Sansa. Had the piece fallen off or…?

…Could she have been the reason Joffrey died?

It had been a long time ago, but she vaguely remembered reading about something Maester Luwin had called the Strangler. There hadn't been a lot of information supplied, other than a drawing and a few of the ingredients used to create the poison. Identifying it was easy, the Strangler was as dark as the amethysts in the hairnet and very deadly. She wondered, as she had so many times, if she had to do with Joffrey dying? He'd certainly turned as purple as the stones in the hairnet. He couldn't even gasp for air, he'd just died.

It made her shiver to think about it, not that she would ever regret his death. Joffrey deserved that and so much worse.

She wanted to ask Sandor about it more than anything, but he made it impossible. He refused to acknowledge her at any moment unless they were lying in bed at night. He wouldn't talk to her at all still, but at least when they were trying to sleep he would have his arms around her. He never tried to do anything more than touch her belly at nights. It had been almost seven days now, surely he'd have forgiven her a little bit. She'd apologized enough any time she could.

With a sigh, she shifted on the bed and reluctantly sat up. Her stomach had settled to a steady rolling, so she wasn't so physically ill. She usually had a few chores to do in the kitchens now. It was as good a time as ever to get up and move. She stashed the hairnet back into her pack, between the pages of one of her reference books from Lord Tyrion. She retrieved her cloak hanging on one of the hooks and tied it around her neck. It was usually chilly until midafternoon and this way, she could keep everyone from staring at her. She took a quick glance at the looking mirror and made sure her hair was plaited nicely. Happy with her appearance, Sansa opened up the cabin door and wandered up the stairs to the main deck.

It was foggy again. The sun barely peeked in through the haze. The air was left moist and cool and uninviting to anything exciting. She looked over the deck to see if she could spot her husband. The ever present circle of barrels was filled with the crewmen. Usually they were busy playing a game of cards or gambling, if they were unneeded up in the rafters or rowing when the wind failed. She wondered if Sandor was there with him or if he was up on one of the masts.

One man from the barrels waved over at Sansa, catching the attention of the other crewmen. Hooting and waving, the men all greeted Sansa. She giggled and waved back and wandered over to the railing. She looked out on the waves somberly, the smile off of her face. There was still so much she had to worry about and that didn't include what Lady Olenna had planned for them. Her hand went to her belly almost instantly, feeling a bit protective. Her swell was still small, but she could already tell it was increasing from the week before.

She thought about everything there was to worry about. Where would she and Sandor possibly go? Could they even go to Winterfell, now that the Greyjoy's had sacked her home? Would Jon be able to take them in at the Wall? How would they even be able to make it up that far North without being caught? What about Robb? What was happening with him? Was he still truly alive? And then, another important thing was Sandor.

Would he want to go with her once they got off Secondwind? Or, would he want to leave her, pregnant and alone?

She turned from the waves, trying to dismiss the depressing thoughts. She went across the deck, away from the crewmen playing cards near the same way she'd come up from the cabin. Next to stairway there was a door that led into the kitchens. Inside, she knew to expect three girls cooking and cleaning for the crewmen. They were the sweetest girls Sansa could imagine, aside from the oldest, and she had easily grown fond of each of them.

Knocking on the door, Sansa poked her head around the door and asked timidly, "Are you busy?"

"I was wonderin' where ya were!" one of the youngest girl's squealed, hopping down from her stool and bounding over to the door. Her name was Emmie, a girl of one and ten. She had wavy, charcoal black hair and a heart shaped face. She was the sweetest and most naïve of the bunch. Her look-alike sister, Scarla, was a bit more reserved and quiet. Still, she loved to play games with her sister and help out around the cook area. The last girl, the oldest sister Jacelyn, was of the age six and ten. She was the one to take the most care around the kitchen and raised her sisters as well. She was clearly matured past her years and, at first, she'd been hesitant to truly connect with Sansa. After all, they were likely never to see each other again after they landed in High Garden. But with some sweet smiles, kind words, and helping around the kitchen, she'd won Jacelyn over in the end.

Sansa smiled brightly at Emmie, as the girl came up and hugged her tightly. She told Emmie, "My tummy was a bit upset this morning, but I thought I could come and see if there was anything I could help with."

"Sit and knead some bread," Jacelyn told her, right before Emmie started babbling some more.

She started up almost before Jacelyn finished her sentence and asked with wide eyes, "Was it the baby again?" She'd been enthralled with Sansa's pregnancy since she'd let the information slip earlier that week. Emmie wanted to touch her belly and press her ears against the bump and chattered on as if the baby could hear and respond to her words.

Sansa smiled and said, "Yes it was." She walked over and stood next to the stool Emmie had been sitting on. Kneading bread was easier standing rather than sitting down. Emmie clambered up beside her and started asking a stream of questions. Sansa tried to answer as best as she could, smiling patiently when the young girl repeated her questions and looked for cues if Jacelyn wanted her to skim over any of the questions. She kept herself busy the entire time. Even though Lady Olenna had said she'd taken care of the payment and worked out their passage, Sansa felt like she needed to earn her place too. If Sandor could work, then so could she!

Eventually, Jacelyn shooed out Scarla and Emmie with platters full of food for the rest of the crew as their midday meal. She and Sansa were alone, at least for the next short while. Jacelyn set out to platters on the space between them, some bread and broth and even a bit for fruit. Once they'd settled in and ate a bit, Jacelyn finally asked, "How it been with… ya husband?"

Sansa almost giggled. Even after a week, she had a hard time actually calling Sandor by his name. Sometimes, she refused to even use the term husband. Jacelyn had been very unhappy with the fact Sandor still wouldn't speak to Sansa unless it was absolutely necessary and even then he was gruff.

Instead of commenting, she shrugged and told the girl, "He refuses to talk to me still. He won't touch me or kiss me or do anything that we'd worked so hard to get to before. It's just… we're at a standstill and I don't know where to go from here. I've apologized profusely, tried to get him to talk, but he just ignores it. He's hardly ever in our room now too."

"It expected. Man like he probabl' thinkin' ya didn't want tha child." Jacelyn accent faintly reminded Sansa of Shae. She longed to have her handmaiden back at times to confide with.

Back to the more pressing matters… "Why would he think that though? He knows this is what I've wanted since I was a kid. When I fairly begged him to be my husband, to give this marriage a try, I would have thought that would be all he needed to know I want him and this life."

Jacelyn shrugged. "He a man. He is stupid."

Sansa giggled. "I would blame the wine more than anything." She sighed softly and glanced down at her belly, hidden beneath the fabrics and her cloak. "I was more worried he wouldn't want me after this. I know family and children were never in his plan-"

She tutted, shaking her long dark curls out of her eyes, and spoke, "Ya not noticin' how he look at ya. He want ya, very much. He just don't trust ya."

Sansa lowered her eyes to the table and shrugged. "I wouldn't blame him," she agreed quietly.

"Talk ta him. Is the only way ya'll get somewhere."

"But he won't listen," she argued, a bit annoyed. "I talk and I talk and-"

"I wouldn' sayin' use words." Jacelyn didn't look at her, but Sansa saw the grin on her face.

"What should I do then?"

She looked up and arched one perfect brow. "Use tha womanly wiles that got ya a baby to begin with."

Sansa giggled into her hands and asked, "Do you think that would actually work?"

"Not no doubt in me mind 'bout it. Ya wanna try tonight? I keep him busy after dinner, ya get stripped and ready in tha room."

She giggled again, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. "I don't know… He could-"

"Don't think 'bout it. Just do it."

"Oh, why not," she agreed. Both girls laughed and Jacelyn made comment about High Garden. She began telling the redhead everything there was to know about the place, from the city and the palace and Lord Willas. It sounded like a heavenly place, enough where Sansa knew she wouldn't have to worry about the threat of death. But warnings started going off in her head and memories of how she pictured King's Landing flooded her mind. Never again would she be able to blindly trust any one place that wasn't her home.

Emmie and Scarla returned some time later, with shells in their hands the crewmen gave them and more news to share about the travels. Secondwind was probably another three days from shore, maybe a bit more if the wind didn't pick up soon. Emmie also had a bunch of suggestions for dinner that night. Jacelyn listened to her as she rambled off the foods, then set the two girls to peeling potatoes out of the barrels. Sansa helped out with putting the bread into the woodstove to bake. The first several days she'd tried baking the bread, Sansa ended up burning the loaves. Many of the crewmen had teased her each time as they ate the bread and she set it as a personal goal to make the best bread she possibly could. Now, the loaves only came out a bit dark, but much more edible than before. Sansa was rather pleased with herself.

Emmie and Scarla finished with the potatoes quick enough and begged Jacelyn to let Sansa play with them. The older woman looked over at the prepped ingredients and reluctantly consented. The girls dragged the redhead over to their little room at the far end of the kitchen. The three girls slept and prepped up the kitchen, mostly so Jacelyn could keep an eye that the woodstove never got too hot or started anything on fire and she didn't want her siblings off in their own rooms at night alone. So, the girls had plenty of space for the hammocks they slept in and they had a play corner set up with dolls and wooden toys.

Emmie wanted to play with the dolls she had. They were her treasures, the few things she'd had from her home before they'd come aboard. Scarla wasn't a fan of her sister's doll games and, instead, wanted to play with the wooden soldiers and people the crew had carved out. They bickered for a short while, until Sansa created an agreement on what to play. She explained to them patiently, "These dolls are new people to Scarla's men."

"The Horocans," Scarla said firmly, waiting to see if someone would argue.

Sansa smiled and agreed, "The Horocans. They've never met your dolls before, Emmie, so the two groups need to live in harmony. I'm sure-" But Emmie interrupted Sansa before she could finish, talking rapidly with Scarla. Soon enough, the setting was planned. Sansa helped string up their fabric trees and sky and stacked up the little wooden homes. The girls were off in their own world.

Neither of them tried including Sansa into the new game. She giggled softly, waited until she was sure they wouldn't notice, and slipped back over to the prepping area. Jacelyn shook her head and asked, "They playin' a new game?"

"Yes. I think they will be occupied for some time."

"Good." She dropped the last of the limp vegetables into a bowl of broth and told her, "I just finish up tha stew. Wanna put it on the stove? Got a dessert plannin' for tonight too." Sansa nodded and took the pot on the stove. There was a small spot on top of the stove, which the pot settled on perfectly. She stared into the contents as it warmed up on the woodstove. She wondered if anything would change for the day, or if it would all be the same. Nothing had so far this week, so it might just be another same day.

~A/N~

Thank you all for so much response! You cannot believe how inspiring that is, I ended up final editing this chapter in no time! Chapter Two is already a third of the way done and very much edited for its first part. I'm hoping the rest of the chapter will flow as good as this one had. I'm currently trying to work on updating my other GoT SanSan Fic, The Hound and His Little Bird, but the chapter just isn't flowing quite as well as this is right now.

I can't thank you enough for all of the reviews! You're the best readers a girl could ask for!

R&R

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