Author's note : This is update 1 out of 2 (two chapters at the same time, I'm spoiling you! :D), so please make sure you read this chapter before reading chapter 11. I am so glad to be back on that story! Life gets in the way more often than not when you have an auto-immune disease that is yet to be under control. As I wrtite this, I am preparing myself for another test next tuesday to understand why the medication has stop working after a year and a half of treating the disease with it. I have a lot of time to waste, and I don't want to spend it thinking, so I'm writing instead, haha! See you at the bottom!

*English is not my first language.


Chapter 10

Awakening

Leaning against the ship's wooden railing with his head in the crook of his arms, Sandor was breathing the salty air of the sea through his mouth. Although he would never admit it out loud, Alaya had been right: the fresh air was helping a lot with the nausea. It had faded slowly, along with the dizziness. He would have enjoyed the moment a little longer, if not for an unwelcomed intruder.

"You surprise me, Clegane!"

Littlefucker.

"Bugger off!" Sandor muttered without even glancing his way.

The little man acted as if he had not heard him. From the corner of his eyes, Sandor could see his infuriating smirk.

"It takes a lot to surprise me," Baelish went on. "Since I know pretty much everything about everyone. But I was wrong about you! I thought you were a Lannister man through and through. I never once predicted that you might end up betraying them. And for a fair lady, no less!"

He paused, as if waiting for Sandor to confirm or deny what he was insinuating. Instead, the Hound clenched his jaw and faced the man, staring him down. If he was intimidated, Littlefinger did not let it show, though Sandor could have sworn seeing him take a tiny step back.

"What do you want?" Sandor asked gruffly.

Littlefinger's smile grew larger, and Sandor fought every fiber in his body telling him to rip his head off. The man was unarmed, and they were alone. The other sailors were too busy angling the sails, stocking their barrels of provisions, or getting drunk with rum. Nobody would stop him. The Kettleback brothers were his only worthy opponents, but Sandor would not be able to fight off the three of them at the same time. If he killed Littlefinger, they would surely seek revenge out of loyalty to him. He did not trust the man, yet he had no other choice. They were stuck on this ship, with nowhere else to flee but in the cold abysses of the sea.

Sandor decided it was best to hold back on his murderous thoughts. The right moment would present itself sooner or later – he would make sure of it. Plus, he could not risk his little bird's safety, not after they were able to free her from her cage. She would never forgive him.

Unaware that he had been this close to losing his head, Baelish was still babbling.

"… tell you how grateful I am that you kept her safe while I was gone!"

At his words, Sandor almost lost it.

"Safe?!" he all but shouted. "She was never safe, you useless gnat! She was raped, beaten, intimidated, and scared on a daily basis. I protected her as best as I could, I was there to look after her. And I bloody well didn't do it for you, so spare me your empty words and go bugger yourself with them!" Sandor spat.

"Very well," Littlefinger said, his lips now forming a thin line. "Then, I guess I am the one who deserves credit, seeing how I orchestrated her escape, unlike you. You spent, what, a whole year watching her being treated miserably without lifting a finger, and you call it protecting?" he had the audacity to chuckle.

That did it for Sandor. Without missing a beat, he took hold of Littlefinger's neck and held him against the railing. The man's eyes went wide, and he clawed at Sandor's hand. It was useless. The Hound was too strong.

"You little shit," Sandor snarled through gritted teeth. "You disappear for a year and go hiding beneath Lysa Arryn's skirts. You hire half-wits to do all the dirty work while you sit back and wait, still hiding. You think you're so clever and such, but I see you for who you are: a coward!"

"Careful, Clegane!" a threatening voice rose behind him.

Sandor could feel the tip of a sword pressing against his back. During his tirade, he had leaned Littlefinger farther into the railing, so much that the man was almost overboard. The ship's crew was staring at them like hawks.

Seeing that Sandor was not releasing Baelish, Osfryd Kettleblack pressed the tip a little harder in his back. Since he had been rid of his armour upon getting on the ship, the cold steel was piercing through his shirt. Sandor winced as his skin ripped open, and he could feel something warm glistening towards his breeches.

"Enough!"

The oldest Kettleblack had joined them on the deck and was looking at the men with a deep frown on his face. Sandor eventually agreed to let go of Littlefinger, who caught himself on the railing almost too late, gasping for air like a fish out of the water. Sandor would have laughed, if not for the annoying sting in his back. Osmund scowled at his younger brother.

"Sheathe your sword, Osfryd! There's no threat."

"Are you kidding me?! That reckless dog needs to be put down, or at least chained!"

"Osfryd!"

Kettleblack finally put his sword away while grumbling his discontent. Sandor turned his attention to Osmund, his anger now directed towards him.

"You were supposed to look after them," he growled before striding past him.

Osmund held him by the arm. Sandor reacted swiftly and turned around with a raised fist. Osmund held his hands up in peace, stopping him from landing his blow. Osfryd was eyeing him warily, his hand obviously yearning to have a good reason to raise his sword against the Hound. His gaze seemed to defy him.

Sandor vowed internally that he would be his next target after Littlefinger's death.

"Calm down, Clegane, they're both doing fine! I'm bringing good news, and I was hoping to tell you too, Lord Baelish."

The latter nodded at him.

"Go on."

"Lady Sansa is awake.

.

The fog trapping her mind cleared suddenly. She could feel everything, from the burning pain coming from her back to the room swaying around her. She carefully opened her eyes. The room she was in was dark, with a single ray of light coming from a crack serving as a window. There was a nauseating stench filling the air. The world was spinning, so she shut her eyes again.

A cell. I'm in a cell.

She was laying flat on her stomach on a very hard mattress. She tried using her arms to strengthen herself up but gave up right away as it brought even more pain – as if it was possible. A whimper escaped her lips. That hurt too.

"My lady? Sansa?"

A pair of soft hands gently brushed her hair. She would recognize those hands anywhere.

"Al… Alay… " she attempted feebly.

Sansa opened her eyes to see the worried face of her handmaiden who had crouched by her side. Alaya's dark brown eyes filled with barely contained tears.

"Hush, girl, don't speak," she murmured softly while blinking rapidly. "You're alright, now. You're safe," her voice broke a little.

Overwhelmed by the pain irradiating from her back, Sansa could not make sense of what Alaya was telling her.

"H-hurts… It-it h-hurts…"

Tears filled Sansa's eyes. Alaya wiped them away gently as one of her own won the battle and slid down her tanned cheek.

"I know," she replied apologetically.

Alaya had a mother's touch, and Sansa wanted nothing more but to be cradled and comforted by her. As she was fully regaining her senses, she willed herself to breathe deeply to control her suffering.

Once that was achieved, she had many questions burning her lips. Before she could utter one, a man cleared his throat. Sansa's heart jumped. From the corner of her eye, she could see a tall and broad figure standing beside a closed wooden door. Was that…?

"I'll get him."

Disappointment filled Sansa as she recognized Osmund Kettleback. The events from the other night – for how long have I been gone? – came creeping in her memory.

Joffrey and the usual rape, beating, flogging, humiliation… there had been a new one to the list, this time. An unbearable heat, and a horrid smell of something burning… her flesh burning… She remembered screaming as the flames had melted her skin. The memory made her tremble violently.

Suddenly, the room seemed to waver a little harder. Sansa closed her eyes tightly and moaned.

"What is it?" Alaya asked, concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"

"The room… it's moving…"

To Sansa's surprise, Alaya heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh! Well, that isn't something I can help you with. It's gonna keep moving as long as we don't reach land!"

Sansa's eyes snapped open. Alaya flashed her a smile.

"Land? Alaya, what…?"

"Easy, girl," Alaya commanded while applying pressure on her shoulder, the unharmed one, to prevent her from fussing. "You're safe," she repeated. "At least, for a while. Clegane hasn't told me much about…"

At his name, Sansa gasped, and she remembered something else. He had barged into the room, she was sure. She had recognized his enraged roar. Only then had she let herself succumb to the darkness of unconsciousness, knowing that her hound was there to save her once again.

"Where is he? Is he alright? Where is he?"

"'M right here, little bird," a voice rasped.

Her heart skipped a beat. Sandor Clegane was standing in the doorway, his face paler than ever. The room's roof was a little too low for his height, so he was crouching a little. Instead of his armor, the Hound was wearing a sweat-stained linen shirt with dark breeches. It did not make him any less intimidating. His steel gray eyes bored into hers, and time stood still.

Sansa felt like she could finally breathe. Her faithful hound was still there. Everything would be fine.

But then, the room spun again, and the Hound leaned to the right to retch. They were on a ship, and Sandor was seasick, Sansa realized as the pieces of the puzzle were taking their right places in her mind. However, a piece was still missing. It did not take long for that piece to appear.

"You should go back up, Clegane! Your presence will only disturb the lady's already precarious comfort. Get someone to clean that up on your way, will you?"

The man to whom that voice belonged entered the room. The short man of slender build was wearing a plum-colored doublet with a black mockingbird embroidered on his breast. His neck was strangely red compared to his face. With his small pointed beard and his gray-green eyes like a cat, he could not be mistaken for someone else.

"Lord Baelish," Sansa whispered.

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

"Lady Sansa!" he gushed, clasping his hands together. "I am so very glad to see you are awake, at long last. Welcome aboard the Merling King!"


Welcome aboard, indeed, to all my new followers! You are a reminder that this story hasn't been forgotten yet. I would be very pleased to read your thoughts in a review! Thank you for those still hanging in there since the very beginning (January 2019, time flies so fast!)

This story was meant as a slow burn. I know that, for some, the kiss in the first few chapters might have led you to think Sandor and Sansa would be married with a bunch of kids by chapter 10. I have other plans for them, for the better, I hope!

As mentionned at the top, this is update 1 out of 2. If you haven't already, read this chapter before you press next ;)