I know there's been a bit of a delay in me getting this next chapter out - what with the holiday last week things have been a bit crazy :) I'm *thinking*, though, that after about two more chapters - three at the VERY most - this fic will fiiiiinally come to a close. And I'm hoping to have it done by the end of July ::fingers crossed::
That said, please note that the timing of certain events that transpire in this chapter is probably a bit...off. If it is, it's not by much, but after a lot of research I wrote this part of this AU as closely to canon as possible - and I mean that in the sense that I was trying my best not to mess any more with the "future canon" that already exists than I already have ;) I...think you'll see what I mean.
As always, thanks for reading and commenting, everyone :)
So she would have her annulment and her escape, but she and Sandor would still be watched over by someone of Prince Doran Martell's choosing. Beggars can't be choosers, Sansa told herself...but at the same time she couldn't deny how very much she wanted to be alone with Sandor.
"I will be glad to meet this woman who is so kind...and so curious," Sansa said carefully.
"Oh, but you've already met her," Prince Doran gave Sansa a small smile. "She is quite recently returned from King's Landing, and due to the current...circumstances...here in Dorne, much as I hate to do such a thing it is best if I send her away again. Ellaria?" he called softly.
Sansa's eyes went wide when the Prince said that name. So Ellaria Sand, Prince Oberyn's consort, was to be her companion? She remembered the woman, dark and beautiful and mysterious and so clearly in love with the now-dead younger Martell prince...but when Ellaria glided into the solar Sansa saw immediately that she was changed. There was a sadness about her face that hadn't been there before - but if there was anything that Sansa knew well, it was sadness. She approached Ellaria and dipped a quick curtsy before taking the older woman's hands in her own - something Sansa wouldn't have dared to do had Ellaria been trueborn, but no matter. "I am sorry for your loss - " here Sansa paused, unsure of what to call this woman who wasn't truly a lady. Finally she decided to err on the side of caution. "Lady Ellaria," she finished.
Ellaria Sand smiled sadly, allowing Sansa to hold on to her hands for a long moment before withdrawing them. "Thank you, Lady Sansa. You may call me just Ellaria, I think."
Sansa couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. "Of course," she agreed. "As you wish."
"Ellaria and her young daughter Loreza will be accompanying you, then, if you have no objections," the Prince of Dorne said softly.
Though Sansa once again thought that she'd rather be alone with Sandor, she also understood that in this she did not have much choice - and that if she was to have a companion, better it be one like Ellaria, someone who was more...open-minded...than the usual high-born lady. "I have no objections," Sansa smiled. "In fact, I am quite happy to have this chance to get to know you better, Ellaria."
The beautiful woman inclined her head. "And I you, my lady."
"Please, call me Sansa," Sansa insisted, reaching for Ellaria's hands again and giving them a quick squeeze before releasing them. She then allowed herself to glance at Sandor, who was glowering and clearly refusing to look at any of them. Sansa knew that she should introduce him to Ellaria, but she wondered if perhaps it would be best to wait until they were on the ship and away from the confines and constrictions of the Martell household. She wondered if, at that point, she could admit to Ellaria what - no, who - Sandor was to her, whereas here...No matter what Prince Doran suspects, it would be foolish of me to confirm his suspicions, Sansa knew.
"Then as there seem to be no issues with this arrangement, it is time for you to go to the docks," the Prince of Dorne announced. "Ellaria has already packed her things in hopes that you would agree to her accompanying you, knowing that it would be best for you to leave right away. Again, I regret that Dorne is no longer a safe place for you, Lady Sansa, but...well, perhaps it never was. Not really. It will be easier for you to hide in Essos, and then there will also be a sea between you and those who wish you ill."
"Of course," Sansa demurred. "But I have enjoyed my time here, my Prince, and I do very much wish that I could stay. Your hospitality and your loyalty to my cause will not be forgotten."
The Prince of Dorne sighed. "My dear, you are a breath of fresh air in these troublesome times, and I hope that you do not allow the world to change you for the worse."
She heard Sandor make a noise that could only be described as a growl. Sansa steeled her shoulders and replied, "I think I've managed to avoid that so far, despite...everything."
"Yes," Prince Doran agreed, "You have."
After a hearty Dornish breakfast - which was punctuated by Sandor's grumbling about there being spicy peppers in everything - they were whisked away to the docks. They traveled under cover, just as they had when they'd first arrived in Sunspear, and Sansa found herself wishing that at some point she would have been able to catch a glimpse of the city. I've traveled from one end of Westeros to the other, and now I'm to cross the narrow sea, she thought, when all that I really want is to go home.
Sansa heaved a sigh. She knew better than to let her mind wander down that road - it would be years before she could return to Winterfell, if she was ever able to do so at all. Instead she forced herself to focus on the fact that she was alone, blissfully alone, with Sandor as they traversed the city in the litter. She tucked herself against his body and murmured, "I hope you're not planning on ignoring me for this entire sea voyage, as you did on the last one."
He snorted. "I long ago passed the point of no return in this, little bird."
"I know." She couldn't help but smile. "But all the same, it's nice to hear you say it."
Before she knew it Sansa was being ushered out of the litter and rushed onto a ship, Sandor stalking along behind her. When she reached the deck and tried to turn around in hopes of catching a view of Sunspear, he laid a hand on the small of her back and shook his head, propelling her forward to where the captain was waiting. This man did not seem quite so friendly as Captain Marsh had been, but when he gave her nothing more than a gruff greeting and insisted that she remain in her cabin until they were well away from land, Sansa reminded herself that he was probably just acting on orders. "Will you accompany me, La - Ellaria?" she requested.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but no. The Prince wants it well known that I have left Sunspear, so I must stay on deck and hope that as many people as possible see me sailing away. I'm certain your sworn shield would not mind keeping you company while I am thus employed?" The smile on Ellaria's face was small but knowing. At first Sansa couldn't help but feel surprised, but then she realized that perhaps Prince Doran had more than one reason for sending Ellaria Sand - of all people - with her. With us. So she smiled back at her new companion before turning to Sandor.
Before Sansa could speak, he jerked his chin toward the captain and grunted, "Lead the way." She could see, though, that Sandor was pleased at this turn of events, and knowing this caused something in her tummy to flutter pleasantly. Almost like a tiny little bird, she mused, stifling a giggle.
The cabin was larger than the one she'd had on Yavin Marsh's ship, and furnished a bit better as well. Sansa wondered how long the Prince of Dorne had been preparing things for this journey - possibly he'd begun to do so even before she'd told him that she would go to Essos - but she quickly pushed such thoughts out of her mind and instead surveyed her surroundings. There were two beds, one larger than the other, so she could only assume that Ellaria and Loreza were meant to share the cabin with her. This was a bit disappointing - but not unrealistic, Sansa told herself. At least it seemed that Ellaria would be more than willing to give Sansa and Sandor some time alone.
Sansa thanked the captain and promised to stay in the room until someone was sent to fetch her. He nodded brusquely and left she and Sandor to themselves. "Do you know how long the voyage will be?" Sansa asked.
Sandor shrugged. "Never been across the Narrow Sea. I'm guessing a month at least, maybe longer. Autumn storms..." his voice trailed off and the corner of his lip twitched, and Sansa knew that he'd stopped himself from saying any more, likely because he didn't want to worry her.
"I wish you'd stop doing that," she sighed.
"What?" Sandor said distractedly. "You should have asked that captain how long the damn voyage will be."
"That's not what I meant," Sansa insisted. "I speak of the fact that you are no longer so blunt with me as you once were. You used to tell me the truth, no matter what. Now it feels...it feels as if you're trying to protect me from harsh realities, all of the time. And that's not the man I fell in love with, Sandor."
He snorted. "So you want me to be...what was it you once called me? Unkind? Sure as hells would be easier than watching my mouth around you all the time."
"I'm certain that with just a tiny bit of effort, you can figure out how to tell me the truth without being mean." Even as she said this, though, Sansa wondered if such a thing really was possible. After all, Sandor had always seemed to go from one extreme to the other...
"But why should I?" he growled in response, taking one long step toward her and wrapping his large hands around her waist. "When you clearly seem to like it when I'm...mean?"
Sansa attempted to respond with a retort, but before she could speak Sandor covered her mouth with his own, kissing her in that fierce way of his that made her go weak in the knees.