The Traitor's Escape

Chapter Six

Sansa woke up feeling warm and cold at the same time. She was wrapped comfortably in her coverlet, but she could tell instantly what was missing; Sandor. Wiggling around to check behind her, it was obvious the ex-knight had been gone for some time. The window only told her it was in the very early morning hours still. It was far too early to be up after so few hours of sleep. She yanked the fabric back over her head, her mood already going south.

She had no clue how long it had been since she'd been sleeping. It had been late in the evening by the time she and Sandor had wandered up to their rooms. Once she was off of Secondwind and away from the sway of the ship, her appetite had come back in full force. She wasted plenty of time eating everything that was placed out in front of her. Sandor had used the same time to drown down as much wine as he could get his hands on. By the time Sansa was full, Sandor had been drunk. Not just his mild drunk she was used to at King's Landing. Not even the angry drunk he got when they bickered. No, this time he was completely piss-drunk. She had never seen it as bad as she did then.

He couldn't even walk straight when she finally convinced him to lie down for the night. He had to lean against her as they made their way up the steps. By Gods, he was heavy! Her shoulders and back ached with each step. She could hardly keep him standing by the time he shoved open their door and they managed inside. He hadn't said a word to her, not even a thanks; he'd collapsed on the bed at once, mumbling under his breath and closing his eyes. She growled, growing more irritated by the minute.

She took the time to pull off his muddy boots so he didn't cover the mattress or the coverlet in dirt and decided to just leave him in his clothes. Grumbling under her breath, she stripped herself down until all she had on left was her small clothes. She was so exhausted, she didn't even bother trying to find her shift. After blowing out the candle, she crawled onto the bed and under the coverlet. It was taut when she tried to pull it across her body. She flopped down on the bed, feeling her frustration grow. It had taken quite a long time before she could fall asleep, only half covered by the fabric.

Sandor must have gotten up so quietly she hadn't heard him. She wrapped the coverlet closer around herself, feeling a bit sad. She almost hoped, being off the ship that he might want to wake up with her or at the very least kiss her or something... She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. It wouldn't hurt to sleep for just a bit longer. Surely Lenyl or Enger would let her know when it was time to get up...

The door to her room opened.

Sansa tensed immediately. She didn't dare move. Could someone be sneaking into her room? What would they want? She slid her hand as slowly as she could underneath the pillow, her fingers immediately finding the hilt of the dagger Sandor had given her. He hadn't warned her necessarily to keep the dagger on her while she slept, but she remembered hearing horror stories of women being raped or stolen in the Inn rooms, so she thought it best especially since Sandor had been so drunk.

The steps were heavier, definitely a man's footfalls. They came closer and closer to the bed. She wanted to turn her head, to see who might be coming over to her. Her grip on the hilt tightened. If she was correct, the footsteps were closer and closer to the opposite side she was lying on. She would wait, until they grabbed her, when they flipped her over to do whatever they would. She would go straight for the throat or his chest, if she couldn't reach it quick enough.

Wait, would the dagger even puncture straight through a chest?

She almost panicked.

But weight settling on the bed brought her out of the thoughts. She waited, wondering when they might strike. Maybe she should just go for it first. With a surprise like that, surely she might be able to get an advantage... She squeaked in surprise. The stranger had wrapped their arms around her bare waist.