Chapter Ten: Almost

It was pouring rain outside. Sansa Stark certainly hadn't expected the change of weather during the last week. She hadn't thought the rain could be so heavy they could barely see in front of them. Sandor Clegane didn't want to stop riding with the rain, even when Sansa insisted it was a terrible idea for his burns to be out like that. In the beginning, she'd huffed in frustration that he refused to listen to what she had to say, but he'd ended up winning their arguments as usual. She hadn't minded because it was just a light drizzle.

Then it started coming down in buckets.

She was wishing she had insisted more that they stayed in the cavern that they had been sleeping in. The cave had been damp and chilly, but it was nothing compared to the bone-chilling rain that drenched them. Sansa's hair was plastered to her face, so much so she couldn't even keep it pushed out of the way. Her clothes clung to her like a second, extremely uncomfortable skin, and it was more difficult to attempt to ride with the Hound. Still, she couldn't let him ride on Stranger alone. He might insist that he was fine, but she could tell he was still physically exhausted after fighting off that fever nearly a week prior.

She hoped the rain wouldn't aggravate anything or make him sick. She worried very little about herself, even though she'd had very little to eat for several weeks now. It didn't help they had access to so little food ever since the Brotherhood without Banners had stolen what they'd managed to collect. And, with Sandor's burns, it was even more difficult to try to catch any of the animals in the forest. The few times they managed, Sansa ended up having to skin the animals. That certainly ruined whatever bit of appetite she might have had that day. But she refused to let Sandor get near anything bloody with his open wounds.

Now, the rain proved to be the next challenge. It made it extremely difficult to try to walk through the forest with both horses. Several times, Malia ended up slipping, one time down a very steep slope. Even Stranger had a difficult time trampling through the forest so flooded, so they were forced to ride on the Kingsroad out in the open. The road was surprisingly empty, most likely from the rain, but Sansa was still tense. She jumped at the strangest sounds, looked around her continuously, and kept her hand on her sword or a dagger out at all times.

Neither of them spoke much, mostly because the rain was difficult to hear over.

As they made it up the slope, Sandor stopped Stranger suddenly, cursing angrily. Sansa didn't understand at first, but when she looked more closely, she noticed exactly why he was so upset. It was the current river in front of them. The water was at least a mile wide, dark and with currents so strong Sansa knew they'd never cross on their own. After a moment, she managed out loud enough, "Which river will this be?"

"The Trident. Bloody hells, there's no fucking way to cross it with the animals." He cursed again, tugging Stranger's reigns in a different direction. "Fuck, have to take the ferry then." She didn't understand exactly what he was talking about until they'd come down from the Kingsroad and made it into the surrounding village. Or what was left of it anyhow. The Trident had clearly risen far higher than even now, for many of the buildings near the river's edge had been flooded and destroyed.

Sansa caught sight of the large boat, no ferry, sitting near the dock of the Trident. Sansa watched the current beat up against the sides, hard and fast, and asked, "Are you sure it's such a good idea to cross in this weather?"

"Don't got a choice, Little Bird," he grunted, walking Stranger forward towards the dock. "You want to get to your mother and brother before they start moving again?" Reluctantly, she had to admit he was right, so she nodded, ducked her head and kept herself quiet just like he'd told her any other time they might end up running into someone. He walked them up the dock, slipping down off of Strangers as a few men came down from the ferry to meet them.

"What ya'll doin' out in this weather?" one called, eying them both warily. A quick glance at his face told Sansa that he'd figured out exactly who Sandor was, but the man was still studying Sansa. That gave her relief no one seemed to recognize her much, even with her hair growing out and the color fading.

"Need passage 'cross the river," Sandor told him, "Two horses and a girl too."

"Gonna be a gold dragon each," the man replied automatically, quickly eying up Sandor's sword and glancing at Sansa again. She knew it wasn't difficult to spot her sword even under her cloak, so she suspected he was waiting to see if there was a fight that could start up.

"Fuck that, year ago I could buy this boat with a one gold dragon," he spat, glaring at him.

"Maybe a year ago, but times are a'changing. Gotta be able to live these days and with the war and all…"

Sandor growled, but reluctantly bit out, "Fine, we'll give you the coin… after we reach the other side safely."

"No, we get the coin now, then we get you to the other side," the other man challenged. Even being smaller, the Ferryman seemed convinced he could take Sandor, probably because he had the extra men. Sansa was tense, watching through her eyelashes and bangs, to see exactly what might happen. Finally, she cleared her throat, just enough that Sandor could hear her.

He turned his glare onto her, growling lowly. She leaned down close enough that only he would be able to hear her and said softly, "Why not just offer a few coins for now and then the rest later? That way…" His glare told her exactly what he thought of that idea, but she knew otherwise they'd never manage through it. Finally, after staring him down several moments, she raised her head and turned to the Ferryman. "We can offer you three gold coin for the passage of us four. We'll give you two here and the last on the other side when we're safe."

Sandor glared at her heavily, working his teeth together. Finally, he turned his gaze back to her and rasped out, "What you say?"

The men glanced between each other, working over Sansa's offer in their head. Sandor glared at Sansa again, snarling quietly when she gave him a brief smile. Finally, the men muttered their consent, still watching Sandor wearily. It seemed like they expected Sandor to pull out the coin, Sansa was glad when she was the one to dig into her pocket and pulled out the two stags. She tossed them to the ferryman, pleased that she was able to throw good this time.

They were led onto the ferry. Sandor sent Sansa into the closed cabin so she wasn't in danger of going over the rail. She stood inside with Stranger and Malia, drying off in the closed quarters gratefully. She was hesitant as the boat took off, wanted to go out to Sandor. It made her nervous to be separated from him, and with his burns…

As she felt the ferry shudder and begin to move, she peaked open the door and glanced out at the dock. The rain was pelting the wood heavily, making it slippery. Waters slouched up over the railing, again and again, sometimes sweeping a man off of his feet, but usually they managed to catch their footing. The waves caught them again and again, bashing against the side, throwing them in many directions.

Sansa's footing slipped out from under her and she landed on her behind with an "oomph". She muttered as she tried to stand up, but she fell again when they hit another harsh wave. Stranger and Malia stomped around the deck, clearly getting agitated. When they started moving closer and closer to her, Sansa was forced to leave the cabin for the deck instead. She was hit with a wall of water and wind, instantly drenching her all over again. She watched the ferrymen struggling to keep with the current and the wind, Sandor fighting to keep on board and help the men as best as he could, to her surprise.

And then the ferry was hit with the harshest wave of water yet.

It took everyone down, knocking them all off their feet. Most men managed to keep hold of the ropes, but Sansa had nothing to hold onto. She was swept down the deck and when she opened her mouth to cry out, she was drowned by the water. Fear blossomed in her chest. She didn't want to die, not like this.

She needed to…

Suddenly, she could feel the railing as she was slammed up against it, hard. She clung to it, just before she managed to be swept over, coughing and sputtering. She looked up, just in time to hear another man as he was swept over the railing into the water. She watched him struggling through the current, as best as he could until he was swept under. She felt numb.

She wanted to tell herself that the man would resurface further down the river, but she knew in her heart that if he did, he wouldn't be alive. She wanted to cry, but instead she tried to find her footing again before they hit the next wave.

"Fucking hells girl, I told you to stay inside!" Sandor roared suddenly, so close by. When he grabbed hold of her arm, harshly, she clung to him with a small sob.

She managed out, "The horses were getting so agitated and I just didn't know what else to do…"

Sandor leaned close so she could hear him. "You need to stay safe, Little Bird," he rasped out, glancing back at the men furiously working still. "Back inside, stay against a wall. I'll get you as soon as we dock."

"I don't want you getting swept off either," she managed loud enough to be heard.

"Be fine girl," he grunted, walking her back to the cabin with the horses. She went in without a struggle and slumped back against the wall in the corner with a sigh. She pressed her hands into her eyes, fighting the urge to cry, and kept herself to the wall like he'd suggested. It kept her on her feet mostly, despite the fact Stranger and Malia still stomped around and whinnied their dislike as the deck bucked and moved under them.

Finally, after far too long, Sansa felt the boat hit the other bank with a slam, throwing her from the wall to the floor. She waited, to see if they'd move at all anymore. The door to the cabin was thrown open, Sandor looked at her with a scowl and told her to grab the horses. As she walked the horses out, the Ferryman came up to them, looking even less friendly than before. "Want eight gold Dragons, four for the man I lost and then four more for the passage," he spat out.

"You're going to settle for-" Sandor started, but Sansa cut him off.

"That's agreeable," she said, already reaching for the coins in her pocket. But her hands came out empty aside from just two coins. The others must have swept away in the water. She stared at the two coins, murmured, "Oh, I must have lost the others."

She went to reach back into her bag for the rest of the coins, but Sandor interrupted her. "Give him the coin you have. We don't have anymore," he snarled at the man, shoving the ones Sansa handed over to the Ferryman. "Might be we could bring back more later." Sansa wanted to open her mouth to argue, but a quick glance from Sandor told her to keep her mouth shut. She hunched her shoulders and mumbled a small apology about losing the coins.

The Ferryman snarled at them, threatened them, but still, he took what coin the Hound had to offer, and spat at them as Sandor helped Sansa back onto Stranger. He tied Malia back to Stranger and got onto the warhorse. They started off before any of the men could change their minds about letting them off. "We could have given them the coin," she mumbled when they were far enough away.

"Those fuckers are charging too much for a ride on that shitass ferry," he ground out, looking irritated. "We'll stop for the night and then figure out our next plan once we know where your damn Brother and Mother is at."

"We can't just sleep outside tonight," she tested out, waiting to see his reaction.

"There's an Inn just up the road we can stop for the night," he grunted, trying to shove aside his own hair plastered across his face. She nodded and burrowed further down in her dark cloak to fight off a bit of the chill. Her hands still shook a little from nearly falling off the Ferry, but she managed to fight off the worst of it. It was so chilly outside in the rain, she was beginning to doubt either of them could escape without a terrible cold. She kept hunched into herself and tried to keep the worst of the chill at bay. She watched the Kingsroad closely with Sandor to make sure no one would sneak up on them.

Eventually, Sansa spotted an Inn in the distance. It was dimly lit in the shadows and looking pretty run down, but at this point neither of them cared much. Sansa was so exhausted and between the battering of the Ferry and the general soreness from the constant travel she wasn't going to complain one bit. Sandor didn't seem to be fairing much better. While he wouldn't directly complain about being exhausted, he was slumped over far more than usual and resting a good amount of his weight against Sansa. She didn't say anything to him, didn't voice any concerns. She knew he'd snap at her if she did and try to be more stubborn. So she kept silent and let him lean against her as much as he needed.

When they finally stopped outside of the Inn, it was clear they were packed. Sandor's first thought was to keep her outside, but when several people started wandering outside, he thought it better if she stuck close by. So, they got Stranger and Malia put into the stables and Sansa walked ahead of Sandor with her head tucked down. Her hand rested on her sword at all times and she kept one of her daggers at the ready in case they needed to defend themselves. The packs were thrown across Sandor's shoulders.

An Inn Keeper met up with them at the entrance, looking ready to send them off. "Not no more rooms for the night," the man started instantly. Sandor pushed Sansa to the side long enough where they could have a whispered conversation. Sansa was still shivering from the chill outside, but now, she was warming up. She glanced around the room while the Hound and man talked, studying the groups of people around and trying to see if there were any possible threats. So far, no one had noticed them. The men and women were too busy drinking and shouting and laughing to take notice to two quiet people walking into an Inn close at night.

Finally, Sandor handed Sansa all of the bags and told her, "Wait over there," nodding towards an empty table in the far corner. Reluctantly, she headed over there without him, hunching down into her dark cloak. Had her cloak always swallowed her up so much or had she really started losing that much weight? Sure, she hadn't been eating nearly as much, but between the lack of food, wanting to make sure Sandor kept up his strength, and the lack of appetite whenever she had to skin an animal, it made things difficult to really consume food.

She didn't even know the last time she'd actually felt hungry.

The noise in the common was so loud it made Sansa's head hurt. She'd been away from crowds for weeks now; it made it impossible to remember that she'd once enjoyed the loud ruckus and the noise of feasts and plays. A few people played some instruments, others tried to be the jester, and some simply wanted to be around for amusement. Men groped at the women, drank and laughed loudly, and the women squealed and encouraged them.

Few words could be caught between the noises of merrymaking. At some point, one of the kitchen wenches brought over a pile of food for her and Sandor to eat. She looked out for Sandor, but he was still nowhere to be found. She wondered where he could be at. After a moment, she decided to pile a bit of food on her plate, making sure to leave plenty for him, and picked at her food listlessly. She had water that she drank between her small bites.

Eventually, Sandor made his way over, flasks of wine in hand and a much more annoyed look on his face. He sat down with a grunt, pulling the plate of food over without much thought. He dug into the food, telling Sansa between bites, "Got a room for the night. Bath should be ready soon. Got supplies ready for the rest of the trip to Riverrun."

Sansa nodded, murmuring softly "I'll probably try to hear if there's any news about Robb and Mother before heading up."

"No, I don't want you around these cunts. You'll go up and get cleaned up. I'll take care of the rest."

She wanted to argue with him, wanted to say that she could take care of it too. But she bit her tongue and finished up what little food was on her plate. He sent her upstairs with their bags, directing her to the room furthest on the right of the hall upstairs. She waited until she was sure that no one had headed up recently, then made her way up the stairs as inconspicuously as possible. She wandered down the hall as quietly as possible, listening to the grunts and moans of strangers behind doors, the laughing and shouting of children and people alike, and just all the general noise she wasn't used to any longer.

She finally got back to her room, quite a tiny space for both her and Sandor, and noticed two women were in the room, filling up the washtub. The women stopped their chatter the instant Sansa entered the room, but when she pretended to pay them no mind, they went back to their gossip. The room was already decently warm, so she took off her damp cloak and folded it up near the fire to let it air dry better.

Just a she was situating their bags for the night, Sansa caught word of something one of the women were saying, "And I heard that both boys had died."

She froze, straining to hear what they'd say next. They'd dropped their voices to whispers again, but just for the moment. And this was her chance to get something out of some rumors… Rumors certainly weren't reliable in the least, but she wanted to hear something, any sort of news… She turned her attention back to one specific girl, the dark haired one, just as the girl said louder, "None us could believe it 'ere tru'. But I hear from the little whore trampin' round the camp, the King's mum is 'istraught can be."

Which mother was it? Had something happened to Joffrey and Tommen?

She couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer, she turned and asked, "Who was it that got killed?" Both girls froze, staring at Sansa as if they'd just now noticed she was here. Frustrated that they were staring at her like she had appeared out of thin air, she put her hands on her hips and said, trying to sound a bit dumber, "Don't go lookin' at me like I'm an idiot. Ya'll been gossipin' loud as can be. Who is it?"

The blond girl, the much more timid one, stammered out, "O-oh, we 'an't be a sure. Just hearin' 'round about it-"

The other girl finally found her tongue and piped up, looking eager to talk more, "Hera it was the Stark boys! Been 'umors tha' Winterfell been sacked good by the Greyjoys…"

Whatever she had been saying after never reached Sansa's ears. She stared at the girl, hearing only the loud thumping of her heart in her ears. She interrupted the girl, croaking out, "It was Bran and Rickon? They were…"

"Yessus! Least that's what we been hearin'-"

"Get out," she said faintly, feeling sick. When the two hesitated, she shouted, "Get out!" and pulled out her sword for good measure. They scurried out as fast as possible, glancing back at the teary-eyed girl as they left. Sansa paid them no mind, her head was spinning with far too many thoughts…

Sweet little Rickon, all energy and tantrums, running around playing with Shaggydog.

Bran, quickly growing up to be a soldier, suddenly crippled. Waking up and hopefully being able to walk.

All of that was suddenly just gone?

She sobbed, pressing her hand against her mouth. She began to cry, hot heavy tears that soaked down her neck to the lining of her dress. This couldn't be happening. It shouldn't have been possible. Winterfell was safe, they should have been safe. She'd just found out Arya was alive, she couldn't have lost two brothers just after that… "No, no, no," she mumbled, backing away from the steaming tub until she'd bumped into the bed behind her.

They shouldn't have died. They were innocent in all of this.

She should have been the one that was killed. She deserved the worst of punishments.

It was all her fault after all.

She'd killed her father by fluttering off to the Queen. She forced Arya to run off into hiding in the middle of the forest lost and alone. She'd made Sandor a fugitive by coming with her from the Battle, fleeing from the city.

She didn't deserve to be treated kindly. She shouldn't be breathing.

When she finally looked up, she noticed there was a window in the room. She wasn't sure what it was, but the window called for her, beckoned her forward. She stumbled forward, wiping at her eyes and stifling her crying to just sniffles. She pushed open the glass, letting the freezing air and rain into the room. She stared down the darkened roof, down to the ground below.

Her tears had suddenly dried up, the longer she looked down the roof. She thought about Bran, how he'd been injured just from falling, but they'd thought he'd die. Could someone die if they threw themselves off intentionally?

How fitting it would be, if she befell the same fate as Bran.

Driven by the guilt of all she'd done, it didn't take much for her to persuade herself to climb into the window, crouched over, looking at dark ground below. It seemed so much further the longer she stared at it. They were only upstairs. Could it even work? Maybe if she threw herself hard enough…

Just as she'd started to tense her legs, preparing to jump, the bedroom door opened suddenly. Startled, she whipped around, nearly falling out the window as she slipped on the ledge. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Sandor shouted, coming for her so suddenly she had no time to react when he wrenched her down from the window.

His touch brought her back down to reality so quickly it nearly crushed her. It just all hurt so much, she started crying again. She didn't really know what to do, whether to be angry Sandor had grabbed her so suddenly or to feel worse that she was going to throw herself to her death. So, instead, she stood there, covering her face with her hands. Sandor didn't seem to take pity on her in the least, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her, growling, "Did you think it was a good idea to kill yourself? Throw yourself off the roof and break your pretty little neck? Or were you just thinking you could fly like a bird? What the fuck were you thinking?!"

His shouting gave her enough courage to manage out, "Bran and Rickon… They were both…" But she started sobbing before she could finish her sentence. She stumbled away from him, more ashamed than ever before and let herself slip down onto the floor.

"Little Bird," she heard him rasp, heard him walk across the room to her. She fairly cringed away from his touch when he touched her shoulder. She tried moving away from him, shaking her head, trying to tell him in some way she didn't deserve any kindness at all. But he took hold of her, pulled her to his chest in what was probably supposed to be a comforting embrace. It made her sick to think someone thought she deserved this. She tried to push him away, sobbing and smacking on his chest, but after a while, she dissolved into his arms and cried quietly while he took her to the bed.

It wasn't fair to anyone that she was one of the last Stark children still alive. She should have been the first ones to die…

She didn't know when it was, but eventually she managed to fall asleep amid all of the emotional turmoil.

~A/N~

I'm so glad I have been able to start working on these chapters again. I've been trying over and over to get everything just right. And for a bit there, I'd written out almost three chapters only to realize it followed the show more than the books! So, of course, I've had to go back and rewrite these chapters all over again.

On another note, there's things about Sansa I feel need to be explained. Yes, I made her think about suicide. I made her seem more vulnerable than the books ever really touched on. But thinking about it, I feel she needed to have this breakdown, because she's gone through so much. And she no longer has to hide herself quite so much as she had with Joffrey. So I believe she could have thought about this. Hopefully, it was not offensive to anyone reading it or too out of character!

Thanks for reading!

R&R

XmX