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Sansa

A new day dawned and Sansa Stark rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Of late, the air had become crisper while they traveled a sure sign that priests and Starks were right; winter was indeed coming.

By mid-afternoon, Sansa's dreary brood mare that she had taken from King's Landing collapsed. Sansa went down with her horse as it stumbled into a hole, its leg snapping near in two as her rider toppled to the ground.

Sandor Clegane had bolted off of Stranger and checked her for bumps and bruises even as he ignored her screaming horse on the ground. When he found that the worst thing that had happened was that her neck wound had reopened, Sansa begged him to kill her horse. The poor creature deserved the gift of mercy after all that it had been through.

At the moment, they rode double on Stranger's back. Sansa relaxed as much as she could into the man's front, feeling his arms settle around her waist comfortably. She tried not to picture his arms wielding the sword that had killed so many, most recently her mare.

As the sun went down in the west, Sansa and Sandor crested a ridge to view a sight that made Sansa weep with joy.

"Sansa?" A rough voice inquired behind her. "Little bird?"

She wiped away her tears hurriedly, for she had been crying too often for comfort recently.

"It's Maidenpool," Sansa said wondrously. "Can't you see the castle? The banners?"

Sandor Clegane grunted in acknowledgement into her hair. "Aye, it is. What does in the Hells does this place mean to you?"

Sansa whirled in the saddle, awkwardly trying to face him.

"Maidenpool? It is where Florian the Fool is said to have first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with all of her sisters. It is a magical place for love and loss." Sansa said, starry eyed.

"Save us all," Sandor groaned. "Not that again. Little bird, haven't you seen how true knights are false ones, and how chivalry is a crock of shit?"

Sansa furrowed her brow, for in the last months, his statements had definitely proven true.

"Use the brain you store in that pretty skull of yours! Look beyond this magical horseshit and see real value." He grabbed her head, not ungentle, and turned it in the direction of the castle again.

"What am I supposed to see?" she inquired.

Sandor Clegane sighed. "The Bay of Crabs, girl. The place I've been heading to since the weakest of Mummers saw us. Our key away from here."

Sansa felt her jaw drop in shock. She was stupid not to have seen the opportunity before. Possibilities opened up ahead of her very eyes. Sansa knew from her geography lessons that The Bay of Crabs thrust into Westeros for several miles, and was used for trade and war.

Sansa was certain it could handle a few travelers too.

Sansa had never been to the Free Cities, but she found herself excited to try. She had heard extravagant tales of the cities. She wanted to gaze upon the flamboyantly dyed hair of Pentoshi men, to visit the steel forges of Qohor, and decide if the Faceless Men of Bravos were myth.

"How will we sail?" Sansa asked.

Sandor had been moving Stranger slowly down towards Maidenpool and the Bay as Sansa thought.

Behind her, Sandor's arms tightened, and she subconsciously sank deeper into them.

"I have means that would make any gold-wanting man fret to turn us away, little bird."

"Yes," Sansa replied, "But I am a fugitive of the crown. I was Joffrey's betrothed!" Sansa shook her head with worry.

She whirled around to face him, poking him in the chest.

"And you!" she went on. "You're a deserter of the King's Army! No man in Westeros that holds with Joffrey will let us have passage. And I'm sure that anyone that still holds with Stannis or dead Renly will want the Hound and a Stark at their-"

Sandor cut off her stream of inquisitions with a kiss, pressing his lips against hers suddenly. It was the first time in days that they had touched, and Sansa's head soon went foggy and subdued from the feeling.

It wasn't long before his arms clutched her back and Sansa twined toward him like a vine. She could feel the hot clouds of their breath rising around in the crisp air as their lips grasped each other.

But too soon it was over, and they broke apart.

Cold air rushed to fill the gap between them that had just been filled with warmth.

"You worry too much, little bird." Sandor's voice was rough and thick.

Sansa smiled, turning back around in Stranger's saddle.

"I thought that all of my concerns were extremely valid, my lord." Sansa cheeked.

She felt his lips press against the top of her hair briefly, and she reached up to place her hand over his on Strangers' reins as they continued towards the water.

Sansa and Sandor perused the docks for a likely looking ship to carry them away from Westeros for a solid hour before they found one.

A massive purple ship dominated the far end of the Maidenpool's harbor on the Bay. From the idle gossip that Sandor had collected in a few taverns, her business was not strictly honorable.

When the traveler's approached, Sandor leading his large black stallion and Sansa walking behind, the people on the docks gave them a wide berth. They had pulled their hoods over their faces, and did not plan to remove them.

Sandor had wrapped the crest of House Clegane in black fabric as to avoid questions on the dock.

They approached the port side of the merchant ship, and were intercepted by a deckhand that leered at them from above.

"What is it that you want with the Titan's Daughter and her crew?" he asked over the din of the dock.

"Safe passage and no more, good man." Sansa replied clearly. "We wish to head to Braavos on your fine ship."

They had decided on Braavos as their destination. The city was located as far from King's Landing as was possible, being on the tip of the Eastern continent. Sansa and Sandor felt that Pentos, though perhaps easier to get to, was to close for comfort to Westeros's lions.

The deckhand took them in, measuring their worth. "There will be gold in that passage, lady." His voice was heavily accented Common. Sansa thought that his accent was Valyrian, but she could not be sure.

Sandor chose his time to speak. "Gold I have, sailor. Who captains your ship, and where is she headed?"

The sailor above hesitated, seeming to consider his words carefully. "Our captain is a good man, though he is battle-worn. He seldom travels above-decks. In his stead, our first mate is Farios Myrel, a native Braavosi himself."

"A captain that is a recluse, and Braavosi command? It sounds as if this is the ship for us, Sandor." Sansa said aside to her Hound.

He nodded in agreement, though she could see his uneasiness about not knowing more.

"Name your price, sailor," he demanded. "I will see if it is worth our gold."

Apparently the man above liked talking of money, for he responded quickly this time. "A dragon apiece for the two of you, and another for the horse. The captain won't be wanting food to go to your mouths for free, so that's one dragon more. Another for our guarantee of safe passage."

Sandor Clegane growled as the sailor spoke, but reached for his belt purse. As he reached inside, Sansa saw the gleam of gold peppered with coins of silver. Startled, she knew that he could have afforded thrice the price easily.

However, the five golden dragons were enough to board them onto the Titan's Daughter on their way to Braavos and, she hoped, freedom.

I really hope I didn't lose anyone in the wait. This chapter is for all of you procrastinating around your Sunday night homework cramming.