Content notices: language, mentions of violence
Sansa hadn't expected to fall asleep as fast as she had. The swaying of the ship was very calming, though and the bed in her cabin was clean and comfortable and once she laid down and closed her eyes, the sleep claimed her quickly.
She woke up late in the morning or so she judged by the light streaming through the small window. The Hound was nowhere near and she remembered him saying he was going to talk to the captain about the best way to confine Stranger in the hold. She couldn't recall him coming back before she fell asleep. The dim light in the cabin was enough to let her see someone had been in earlier, leaving a jug of water and a basin for washing.
The water was cold but it helped her wake up properly and Sansa dressed in one of her warmer dresses, recalling how chilly the air had been last night. She let her hair hung loosely down her back, held back by two small braids - a northern fashion instead of the complicated southern creations. Opening the cabin door, Sansa's ears were hit with a mix of unusual sounds. The creaking of wood, flapping of the sails, splash of the water against the hull, seagulls crying out as they circled above the masts, the foreign language of Essos being shouted back and forth across the deck, all of them were new and exciting for her. Sansa walked out, closing the door behind her. Some of the men nearby looked at her and she ducked her head, embarrassed by the attention.
"Finally woke up, girl?" the Hound's voice came from her right and she looked up to see him standing with the captain by the stairs to the upper deck. She hadn't seen much last night, the lanterns' light not sufficient and she couldn't help but stare for a moment before she remembered her courtesies and looked away quickly. The captain's bushy beard was green, a vivid shade the likes of which were rarely seen. Sansa had read about the Tyroshi custom of dyeing their hair and beards but seeing it for herself was still unusual.
She walked slowly towards the two men, the motion of the ship under her feet upsetting her balance slightly but not enough to make her stumble.
"Good morning, my lords," she greeted as she reached them. The Hound only nodded but the captain smiled at her and took her hand, kissing it with an exaggerated courtesy, making Sansa blush.
"You look lovely this morning, Lady..." he trailed off questioningly but the Hound spoke up before Sansa could say anything.
"No names, Captain, as we agreed."
"Ah, that we did, my apologies," the captain said. "But this vision of loveliness made me forget myself for a moment."
"Thank you, Captain," Sansa murmured, unused to such an attention from men. She had been complimented before but never in such a manner. And she hadn't been stared at so boldly, either.
"We are making a good time," the Hound told her, bringing her attention back to their journey and Sansa stepped closer to the wooden railing to look out over the Blackwater Bay that spread out all around the ship. The sun was bright, reflecting off of the water and hurting eyes if one were to stare too long. She could see some rocky spires jutting out of the water a considerable distance away and she pointed at those.
"Are those islands?" she asked and the captain laughed.
"No, my lady. Those are the spears of the merling king, to hunt down the unaware and careless and bring them into his halls. For every spear that is seen, ten others lie hidden beneath, waiting to skewer the hulls of ships that venture too close."
"Oh," Sansa breathed out. The captain had a considerable accent to his words but his common tongue was quite eloquent. He must have been a learned man. A cry from one of the sailors caught his attention and with a rueful smile, the captain took his leave, leaving Sansa and the Hound alone by the railing. Sansa brushed a strand of hair back from her face where the wind kept blowing it, still looking over the bay.
"How are you feeling, girl?" the Hound asked. Sansa looked at him.
"Quite well. I do feel slightly nervous and I find it hard to believe I am really away from there but..." she looked ahead and took a deep breath, the salty tang of the air pleasant to her. "I am free at last. I feel happy."
"That's not what I meant," the Hound snorted. "Do you feel nauseous? Ill?"
Sansa shook her head no.
"Good," he told her. "I've known grown men to turn green and start vomiting the moment they set foot upon a deck of a small ship. It's going to take close to a fortnight to get to Tyrosh if the wind is good and we're not caught up in the autumn storms. At least that's what the captain said."
"Have you ever travelled by a ship before?" Sansa asked, curiously. She didn't know very much about this man she had entrusted her life to. Well, she did know the story of his scars which was something very few had heard and she knew he liked red wine and hated knights and he wouldn't lie to her because that was just not who he was.
"Aye, little wolf, I've been on a ship before," he smirked at her. "Some of the worst days in my life."
"Why?"
"Do you know about the Greyjoy Rebellion, almost ten years back?"
Sansa nodded. She had heard about it, even if she had been but a babe of two back then. Theon had come to live with them after the rebellion had failed and she had never questioned his presence until she had grown up enough to understand her lessons and learn the history and what purpose the noble hostages were meant to serve.
"It was your father's problem at first, when Balon Greyjoy rose in arms. King Robert wouldn't let his friend deal with it alone, though, so he promised help. Even so, Lannisters would have stayed out of it, there was never much love lost between your families but then Victarion Greyjoy attacked Lannisport and burned the lions' fleet. Lord Tywin couldn't stand such an insult, of course and so the Westerlands joined the King. Half of the Lannister forces moved across the land, the other half boarded the ships that Paxter Redwyne and Stannis Baratheon provided. I was among the ones who were sailing. Ten days of rough seas and puking soldiers, living on salted meat and water," he laughed. "I was almost glad when we landed and had to start fighting at once. At least the smell improved. Instead of puke and shit, it was blood and shit."
Sansa wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Is the lady offended?" the Hound mocked her and Sansa wondered how come he was kind to her one day and then made fun of her the next.
"Must you be so crude?" she asked and he shrugged.
"I call things what they are. The world's full of crude and ugly things. Closing your eyes to them don't make them go away or become prettier. You either deal with it or you don't."
There was truth in his words. Sansa had closed her eyes to Joffrey's true nature for a long time until he had forced her to see him for what he truly was. She had dealt with it as best as she could have, with her courtesies being her only shield against his cruelty. And sometimes even that had not been enough.
Sansa tugged her cloak closer around her. The wind pulled at it playfully, messing up her hair as well and she thought that maybe a braid would serve her better if this weather was to last.
"Were you present at the siege of Pyke?" she asked to steer the conversation back to what it had been. She had heard how the Greyjoys' fort had fallen in a single afternoon after its walls had been breached. Her septa had told her how Thoros of Myr, the funny looking man with a shaved head and red robes, had scaled the walls with his flaming sword in hand and led the attack.
"No, my troop was fighting in Lordsport. It was my first battle command, now that I think about it," he sounded almost surprised by that. "Seven hells, I haven't thought of that in years."
"How old were you?" Sansa asked, realizing she had no idea how old he actually was.
"Seventeen," he replied and barked out a laugh at her shocked face. "What, did you think me older?"
She had, as a matter of fact. He would be only twenty seven then, fifteen years her senior. He looked much older, his scars twisting not only his face but also people's perceptions of him. She might not have been afraid of looking at his face any more but her eyes still deceived her.
"I apologize if I offended you," she told him earnestly but he snorted again.
"I'm hard to offend, girl, so don't worry about that. You better start thinking of where you want to turn from Tyrosh."
"I don't know yet. White Harbour is the largest northern port but Robb and my mother are in Riverlands. Seagard is closer to there but the Iron Islands are in the way and it would be risky," Sansa frowned, trying to recall other details from the maps she had looked at. "Gulltown is in the Vale where my aunt rules and they have stayed out of the war so far. I would be safe there, I think. But it will still come down to what ships are available to us, like it was with this one," and that reminded her of something. "The money you gave the captain for our passage. Where would you get them?"
"They were my own," he stated. "Lannisters are generous to their men and I did win the Hand's tourney. Even I can't drink away forty thousand dragons in a year."
"I thought we would pay for the passage with my jewels," Sansa protested.
"And when were we supposed to sell them, girl? Tell me that," he pointed out and Sansa had to admit he was right. There had been no time, not if they had wanted to maintain the secrecy.
"I will make sure you get it back," she told him and he gave her a queer look.
"As you wish, little wolf," he said and then turned away. "You should eat something. I'll have a meal sent to you."
"Thank you," she told him and added before he could walk away, "For everything."
"You're welcome, little wolf."
He gave her a little nod and left her standing there at the railing, staring at the sea. Their ship was moving away from King's Landing and the Lannisters, bearing her away to an unknown land, seemingly further away from her family. But Sansa knew better. She might have still been far away but she was going home at last.
Tyrion thought the morning had been bad enough but he had been proven wrong. Cersei had arrived as expected, furious as he had almost never seen her, spitting insults at Sansa Stark, guards of the Keep, Sansa's handmaidens and Tyrion himself in turn. Incompetent, treacherous, ungrateful, lying, all of those and more had been added to their names. Varys had made himself scarce, claiming he was going to question his birds for information. Tyrion had ordered Bronn and several other sellswords from his company to scour the winesinks in the city and try and find the Hound.
Varys might have been sure of his involvement in Sansa Stark's escape but Tyrion would prefer a hard proof. The questioning of the Kingsguard revealed that the Hound had been off duty the previous night and he tended to spend those getting drunk in one of the numerous taverns or winesinks. Ser Balon Swann confirmed seeing him leaving the Holdfast, as did the guards at the Red Keep's gates. His personal room in the White Tower was bare, with few personal effects inside but servants claimed that he had had little of those anyway. His white cloak and scale armour were left behind but since he had always preferred his own garments and only wore the white when necessary, it wasn't a proof of anything. Yet.
"How are you going to find her if you just sit there and do nothing?" Cersei asked from where she sat, a cup of wine in hand. His sweet sister hadn't left him since the morning, eager for any news about the escapee. Tyrion had yet to tell her the Hound was suspected of helping Sansa. He conferred with all of the people reporting to him in quiet voices, careful to keep Cersei out of the loop, only telling her that he was getting reports on how the search was going.
"My dear sister," he poured himself a cup of wine, too, noticing how little of it was left in the jug and he sent Podrick for more. "Unless Sansa is hiding in a very small space somewhere in the castle, I don't see how my presence would be of any help in finding her. I admit that I just sit here but I definitely don't 'do nothing'. You might have missed it but I am coordinating the search efforts."
"It has been half a day already," the Queen pointed out.
"It is a big city out there," he replied calmly. The questioning of the guards at the city gates led to nothing so far, neither did the search parties sent out into the country, though there had been few of those. With Stannis so close to the city, Tyrion simply couldn't afford to waste men just to catch one girl and her possible accomplice, her value as a hostage notwithstanding.
Podrick came in with a new jug of wine and set it down on the table and then turned to Tyrion, looking down at his feet.
"Bronn is here to see his lordship. My lord. To see you, I mean. Lord Hand."
"Send him in," Tyrion told the boy and Bronn entered, giving one of the most horrible bows Tyrion had ever seen in Cersei's direction before looking at Tyrion.
"There's been no sign of him anywhere. My boys and me looked in every damn winesink in this city. Noone seen him and he's pretty hard to miss, with that face of his."
"Damn it," Tyrion cursed. Varys' theory just gained even more validity. If Sansa had escaped alone, she wouldn't have gotten far, Tyrion was sure of that. But with the Hound's help, she could be half-way to Riverrun by now. The man was smart and skilled and he knew the land around the King's Landing quite well. He would be able to get the two of them through the siege quite easily.
"Who were you looking for?" Cersei demanded, obviously listening in. "That little traitor should be the priority, not some soldier of yours who's taking too long to come back from a night of drinking."
Tyrion felt a perverse satisfaction at what he was about to share with Cersei.
"Ah, but it's not my soldier, you see, but one of yours."
"One of mine?"
"Sandor Clegane has been missing since last night. And Varys claims that he and Sansa Stark have been rather close recently."
Watching the comprehension dawn on Cersei's face almost made up for all the annoyance he had felt since the morning.
"No," she denied furiously. "No, she couldn't have."
Seeing an impending eruption, Tyrion gestured Bronn out of the room. Witnessing the Queen losing her temper so spectacularly wouldn't do anyone any good. He, at least, was used to his sister's tantrums.
"Based on what Varys told me and after having searched for him, as well as for the Stark girl, I think that Clegane was the one who helped her escape."
"That lying whore!" Cersei screamed, tossing her empty cup to the floor. "How could she? And that ugly, burned idiot, too! He had everything! What could she have offered to him to make him betray us?"
Tyrion watched his sister rage and scream, feeling slightly detached from it all. It was true that Clegane's loyalty to the Lannisters was legendary. He had guarded Joffrey for years and before that he had been in Cersei's own guard. He had even been raised to the Kingsguard without having to be knighted. He had an important position, status and money. Why risk it all to help one girl? Unless what she had offered had been more than Lannisters could have ever given him.
"She must have spread her legs for him, the cheating slut!" Cersei declared. Tyrion simply couldn't stop his tongue from replying, no matter how much worse he would make the situation.
"Well, you must have been a good teacher then, showing her how to earn men's loyalty, how to buy a sword without paying..." he alluded.
The look Cersei gave him was a pure poison and Tyrion wondered just whom Cersei hated more at the moment - him or Sansa Stark.
"I want them both dead," she ordered.
"Impossible," Tyrion told her and added to forestall further protests, "First, we have to find them which is not so easy as you seem to think. Second, you might get away with killing Clegane - if he is caught which would be no mean feat by itself - but not with killing Sansa Stark. She is still a highborn maid and her crime is, as far as we know, only in escaping. Not exactly the grounds for execution."
"She slept with Clegane! That means she betrayed Joffrey!"
"Putting aside the fact that Littlefinger is negotiating Joffrey's betrothal to Margaery Tyrell even now, making the match with Sansa invalid anyway, you don't know for sure if she did that."
"How else could she have ensured his help?" Cersei hissed.
"You know, sweet sister, you should stop judging people by yourself," Tyrion said. "Sansa Stark is not like you, thank the Seven for that. Maybe, just maybe, Clegane had enough decency left in him to make the decision to help her on his own, without any incentive on her part. As for the last point I meant to make is this: Stannis is marching on the city. His fleet is approaching as well. I'm sorry but two escapees are the last of my troubles right now. Or would be if Clegane wasn't one of them. I meant for him to lead the sorties on the shore. Swann is good but he lacks Clegane's experience in battle. Oakheart is with Myrcella and, to be honest, the rest of the Kingsguard are less than useless. Trant is not trustworthy, Kettleblack has yet to prove anything and Moore couldn't lead the troops into battle if his life depended on it. So, my dear sister, I have more than enough on my hands without you demanding unreasonable things."
Cersei stared at him, her green eyes cold and calculating.
"You will not search for them?"
"I did not say that," Tyrion corrected. "Varys will look for them and he will do it more discreetly than how you wanted to do it. The last thing we need is to become a joke to the people. If anyone asks, Sansa Stark has been sent away from the city for her own protection, with Clegane as her assigned guard. The less is said about the whole affair, the better, I think."
"You think!"
"Yes, Cersei, I do think. Maybe you should try it some time. Might make for a refreshing change."
Tyrion knew he was far more waspish than usual with her but Cersei had been a thorn in his side for a long time. And he really needed to get back to planning if the city was to survive. Soothing his sister's ruffled feathers was not as important as that. She hated him anyway, so why even try and get along with her, as long as she let him do his job properly.
"I want to be informed the moment anything is known about them," she demanded at last and Tyrion nodded and then, finally, Cersei left the room, bearing herself proudly, if somewhat less steadily than usual. It must have been the wine she had drunk. Tyrion sighed and poured himself another cup as well before turning to a list of all the knights remaining in the city. He had a siege to plan for and a city to defend. He couldn't afford to bear grudges, no matter how much they were deserved.
A/N: Okay, just reminding you that this story is an AU, so any inconsistencies with the main canon can be ascribed there. Still, I think my assumption of Sandor's role during the Greyjoys' Rebellion is not far off the mark. His age, also, should be more or less correct. Anyway, I hope to update sooner than in a month but I'm not making any promises. I'm working on another multi-chapter and I'm still writing for kink meme, too.
