Author's note : This is update 2 out of 2. If you haven't read chapter 10, I strongly suggest you go back so as not to miss any detail ;) I don't have anything more to say than enjoy your read!
*English is my second language.
Chapter 11
The Vale of Arryn (Part 1)
From one cage…
It had been more than a week since Sansa had woken up. As their journey progressed, the weather soon changed from a little chilly to frighteningly cold. Sansa was always amazed whenever it was raining, for she always thought it ought to turn into snow, although she knew that the latter would happen soon enough.
Winter is coming.
Holding on to the railing for support, the young lady was watching the horizon, hoping they would reach land sooner than later. Her injuries were still sore and swollen, and she had trouble nourishing herself correctly. It made her feel faint and exhausted most of the time, yet she refused to spend her days stuck in her room. She had spent enough time trapped in a cage; she would not settle into another one now, nor ever. Not without a fight.
As a traitor of the crown on the run, Sansa was not to be recognized by anyone, including the members of the Merling King's crew. Petyr Baelish, who had already overseen all the details of their mummer's show, had made her dye her hair a dark brown with Alaya's help, and made her wear her hood up whenever she left her room. He had also given her a new identity: she was Alayne Stone, his bastard daughter, and Alaya was to pose as her sister from the same mother, since their names had a similar ring. Sansa still cringed at the thought of having to call Lord Baelish "Father" in front of the others, but she knew it was for her safety, therefore she obliged. After all, she owed him for helping them escape King's Landing.
Still, she was not as naïve as she used to be, and she was able to tell that something was amiss. Lord Baelish had hidden intentions, and he was the best liar she had ever encountered. They would need to be careful.
The notion of having gone from one jailor to another made her tremble violently. Not long after, a cloak way too big for her was being placed on her shoulders.
"It's too cold for little birds to be out of their nest." Sandor had appeared by her side, his raspy voice resounding through her whole being.
Sansa shivered a second time, and once again, it had nothing to do with the chilly air. She did not dare to face him, though, afraid that he would see right through her. Since waking up, she had looked him in the eye once or twice. She had remembered something else, something of importance to her: She had kissed the infamous Hound. And he had kissed her back. Sansa knew they would have to talk about it at some point, and that if she looked at him for too long, she would ask a bunch of questions that she was not ready to hear the answers to. Yet now was not the time, nor the place.
Instead, she looked down on a strand of dark hair dancing with the wind.
"I hate it."
It was Sandor who had said it, though she agreed fervently.
"Me too," she replied softly.
In the silence that followed, Sansa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She wanted to savor every bit of her newfound freedom, for she knew that once they reached land, she would be trapped in yet another golden cage. Along with the cold air filling her lungs, there was also a delicious musky scent coming from the cloak Sandor had wrapped her in. His scent. Sansa wrapped the cloak tighter around her, hoping it would look as if she was trying to shield herself from the cold instead of intensively sniffing the cloak like a lovesick fool. It worked, for Sandor placed his arm around her waist, carefully averting her injuries although he could not see exactly where they were – somewhat, he knew – and drew her closer to him, providing his own heat.
Sansa's eyes rounded, and she felt herself blushing deeply.
"This is most inappropriate," she whispered low, so that only him would hear her. She had the nagging feeling that everyone on the deck was looking at them.
Sandor chuckled low in his throat.
"Not for a bastard daughter."
With that, he gently tightened his hold on her, and she finally allowed herself to lean her head against his strong shoulder. Exhaustion was taking over. She closed her eyes and let herself relax.
Being Alayne Stone was not so bad, she thought as she dozed off.
DING! DING! DING!
"LAND! LAND!"
If the ringing of the bell had not woken her up, the shouting would have. Opening her eyes, Sansa noticed that she was still leaning against Sandor, who had remained unmoving. An unwavering standing mattress just for her. On the horizon, she could see a dark piece of clouded land growing bigger and bigger as they drew closer.
Aware of her shifting, Sandor withdrew his hand carefully, then made sure that she was steady on her feet before letting her go completely.
"Let's go gather our things."
Sansa nodded her agreement and walked away from the railing, Sandor following a step behind her. When she got to the stairs leading below the deck, Sandor placed himself beside her and offered her his hand for support. Sansa looked up in his eyes for a fleeting moment.
"Thank you," she murmured before lowering her head.
Her hand all but disappeared in his large paw, and he squeezed it somewhat harder than needed. That is how she knew he was not pleased with her behavior. He still helped her down the stairs silently, then he resumed following her. When they reached the cabin Sansa shared with Alaya, they found the woman already busy gathering their stuff. In a matter of a few minutes, their meager belongings were packed, and they were ready to go. They decided through a short discussion that it was best to wait until half the crew was gone before heading back up. Osmund Kettleback came into the room to shatter their plan.
"Lord Baelish wants you out at the same time as everyone else."
"This is madness! Someone might recognize…" Sansa tried to protest.
"No," Sandor retorted to Sansa's surprise. "I hate to admit it, but it's actually smart. If we hide you, we'll draw more attention than if we bring you out in plain sight. People won't look twice your way."
The remark hurt her a bit, yet she knew better than to act childish now. Sandor must have noticed though, for he took a step towards her. Sansa averted her eyes and took a step back, her hand raised to stop him.
"I understand," she stated coldly. "Shall we go?"
She went for the door, but an infuriated Sandor walked past her and out of the room, leaving Sansa feeling slightly ashamed of herself. Alaya gently nudged her forward to follow the big man. Sansa complied, bracing her shoulders.
She had another role to play.
.
Being the major port city of the Vale of Arryn, Gulltown was buzzing with many traders coming from both Westeros and Essos. Ships of various sizes and shapes were anchored at the arbor. Upon descending from the Merling King, Sandor thought there would be at least a small party of knights of the Vale to escort them. He was surprised – and also a bit relieved – to see there were none.
With so many people around them, Sandor was on edge. With his hood up to cover his head, and a scarf concealing half his face, he could not scan the area properly for a potential attacker. There were traders from King's Landing, easily recognizable by the king's color on their sails. Even if Sansa had a good disguise, he was famous for his height and gruesome scars. Anybody who paid a little attention to him would identify him without difficulty.
Fortunately, hidden under his heavy cloak, he had been allowed to don his armor again. Osmund had gone as far as to give him his sword back, though Sandor was sure that he had done it against orders. With a thankful nod, Sandor had strapped it against his thigh and had kept his hand on the hilt ever since getting off the Merling King.
"Isn't it good to be home, sweetling?" Lord Baelish asked to make useless small talk.
"Yes, it is, Father," Sansa chirped dutifully.
While Osney was leading the way casually, Sansa et Littlefinger were following him at a certain distance. Behind them, Alaya and Sandor were walking arm in arm, disguised as a couple. Osmund and Osfryd were at the rear of their party. They were supposed to act as if they were looking around out of curiosity, but they were even worst liars than Sansa Stark. Anyone with common sense would notice how their eyes would linger on every man wearing steel, be it a greatsword or a butcher's knife. Yet, the Gulltowners were none the wiser, so they were able to make their way inside the city smoothly.
"Are you certain that we are safe here, Father?" Sandor heard the little bird chirp.
Littlefinger took Sansa's hand in his and caressed it leisurely, more like a lover than a father, to Sandor's great displeasure. He growled low. Alaya cleared her throat and applied pressure on his arm that was intertwined with hers. He looked down to find her staring at him with a threatening gaze.
"Do not fret, my sweetling! (*) I am well loved in Gulltown, and have some lordly friends of mine own as well (*)."
"Will these lordly friends of yours come to our aid?" she inquired politely.
Littlefinger took some time to answer. Sandor could almost hear him scheming inside his head.
"Not yet! I have some people to meet before we depart for the Bloody Gate."
"That was not part of the plan!" Sandor hissed loud enough for Baelish to hear him.
"Well, it was part of mine, and you have no choice but to go wherever I want you to. Like I said, I have friends, here, many friends! And they would do anything to protect their Lord Protector of the Vale. See the man who looks like he is sleeping against the stables of that inn? And the two sailors from the Merling King who'd been following us since the port? They are hedge knights I pay handsomely for my safety. Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen, Ser Byron, and Ser Morgarth. I was never alone, Clegane." Littlefinger ended his phrase with a smug smile.
Alaya stiffened. They had been played all along. The realization at how screwed they were dawned on Sandor like a fist punching his gut, and his blood boiled with poorly contained fury.
Little shit!
His little bird was never free, nor was he. They were still trapped, and this time, with a much smarter and dangerous enemy than Joffrey and Cersei. Sandor took a glance at his little bird who, for the first time since King's Landing, had finally agreed to look him in the eye more than two seconds. She had obviously come to the same realization that he had, as fear clouded her lovely blue gaze.
He had failed her.
.
(*) A Feast for Crows, Chapter 23, Alayne I
The second part is in progress! I hope to post it soon *fingers crossed*.
