"You're a Stark. You're my friend. My only friend," the lady murmured.

Friend was a strange word to describe the pair of them. They could barely pass a word to one another without enemy ears to hear what they speak. Sansa Stark was born in the North and both of them had blood of the First Men running through their veins. There was even talk that she would be wed to Robb Stark when she was young, the eldest Stark boy, but that was a long time ago when everything was right in her life. They had a special connection with each other that they did not have with anyone else at the capital. If not a friend, perhaps an ally would be the best way to describe them.

Blinking rapidly, her watery green eyes scanned everywhere to see if they were truly alone. "I do not know anymore," her delicate voice trembled and abruptly stopped when they heard footsteps echoing from around the corner. "We'll have to talk later," Sansa and the lady held a forlorn gaze for a few seconds before nodding and going their separate ways.

Everyone here hates me, Sansa's tearful words rang in her head as she slowly made her way back to her bedchamber. The lady didn't realize her hands were clenched into tight fists. Relaxing herself, she looked down at her hands and watched them turn from red to white. She was lonely, even after briefly chatting with Sansa. Their encounters were not enough and everyone else she had contact with were against her. Sansa was not strong in her eyes, though. When she had first arrived to the capital she had fought, and received many consequences from her actions. Now she was trained and knew how to behave the way they wanted her to behave. She might as well be a dog.

An exasperated sigh escaped her mouth and she didn't realize there was someone posted at her door. The lady held her hand up to her chest and contemplated. The Hound stood there covering the whole door, tall as he was. He would have had to duck if he were ever to enter her bedchamber. However, he stood directly in front of the door rather than on the side. She would need to speak with him.

Dragging her feet as she made her way to her bedchamber she thought of what he could possibly be doing. Was she to be summoned to someone? King Joffrey? The thought crept up on her like a bad dream. The Hound himself, though, was not something she feared. He had never harmed her, nor Sansa. They had spoken about him once before and both agreed he was not like the others. The Hound treated them with respect as much as he could. King Joffrey held authority over him, though, and the lady was not stupid. She knew The Hound had done numerous awful actions but most were commands given by Joffrey.

When she was close enough for him to notice, she took in a breath and put her hands behind her back and straightened herself even though it pained her back. She always cursed her back, especially in these corsets. "Do you have business with me?" her chin was slightly lifted so she could meet with his eyes.

Keeping your gaze on The Hound was no easy task. Half his face was a ruin, covered in old burns that left his face tight and uncomfortable. Respect was always an important factor to the lady, so she always gave it when there was room for it. She would never turn away when he strolled by. Once she had even tried to strike a conversation with him, as she felt she could have had some sort of affinity with him but knew she could never say why to anyone, even him. The Hound wore his wounds on his face, but the lady wore hers elsewhere and could keep it hidden from the world. That was the way she preferred it.

The Hound seemed withdrawn, but he still had a slight grimace upon his face. His heavy armor clanked when he finally moved away from her door and to her side. The Hound stopped. "Come with me," he ordered and continued on his way down where she came from.

Without having a say in anything, as usual, she reluctantly turned back around and followed him with her feet needing to pace quicker than normal. There was an unusual heaviness in the air as if something bad were about to happen. When they continued down the corridor which turned into a stairway for the gardens the lady was slightly confused, standing at the top of the steps. Who would wait for her there? She hugged herself with one arm, grabbing onto her opposite arm tightly. A warm breeze ran past her, making her black curls that were left down fly behind her. Scents of flowers came with the breeze and that gave her some comfort along with the orange glow in the horizon beyond the flowery venue. When The Hound made it to the bottom of the steps and noticed she had stopped following he stopped and peeked over his shoulder, the bad side of his face facing her. He followed her with his eyes when she made her way down next to him and she apologized.

"It's not wise to make the Queen wait," he muttered as he continued leading her, now outdoors in the colorful garden.

Her feet sank into the dirt as she followed him now with the knowledge of who was summoning her, but she still did not understand why. The Queen? What does she want with me? Queen Regent Cersei was someone she was always wary around. A smile so mocking it made you want to throw something at her, but you would probably end up losing your hands if you did that. Or more. The lady put her hands next to her and tried to look presentable as she expected to see her any moment. She tried to focus on the blazing sunset. Nature's beauty usually calmed her but that was taken from her when she heard her name being called.

"Myrna, there you are. We have been waiting," Queen Regent Cersei stood with two guards on either side of her.

The Hound found himself a place not too far from them, and kept his head down. Myrna ran what the Queen said through her head when she stopped in front of her. We? For some reason she felt that "we" did not include her guards. Who else was to be there?

Myrna gasped gently, almost forgetting her manners. She curtseyed, letting her head bow low. "My queen," she pleasantly stated. "I apologize for not being here sooner. I did not know..."

"Oh, I know. This was a last minute arrangement. There is someone here to meet you. He traveled oh so very far," she smiled but failed to put any real positivity into it.

That perplexed Myrna. There was no one else she knew besides Sansa, and even Sansa was just a small child at Winterfell the last time she saw her. So much had happened since then, and she had lost... everyone. Even knowing that, there was hope attached to the news. Will this person be rescuing her from this hell? Is it a suitor who had taken interest in her, and had convinced the Lannisters to give them to her? Myrna held her hands in front of her, slightly looking around for this supposed other person when the Queen ordered one of her guards to fetch him.

Her wonderful thoughts nearly made her overlook how The Hound was reacting. His head was still down, eyes glued to his feet. He was never a talker, but he still was the type to look people in the eye even when he did not speak. Myrna frowned, wondering why he seemed so put off.

"Myrna, my sweet. Have you ever heard of Gregor Clegane?" Cersei asked.

The name made The Hound twitch, Myrna noticed. Did he not like Gregor Clegane? She pulled her eyes away from him and looked at the Queen Regent. Her green eyes pierced through her, but her smile seemed more real now. Was she holding back a laugh?

"No... no, I am afraid not. Is this the man I am to meet?" Myrna responded.

A chuckle came from the Queen. "'Tis the man you will marry,".

Her eyes widened. Myrna had guessed correctly. She could not believe something this great was happening to her, and Queen Regent Cersei was actually allowing it. Myrna took in a deep breath to hide her excitement. So this Gregor Clegane had actually convinced the Lannisters to give her away? She would have to ask him to tell her the story of how this came to be.

"I am not familiar with House Clegane. Is Gregor Clegane a lord?" Myrna asked, afraid she might be stepping out of her place but her curiosity held her.

"Well, you were brought here by a Clegane. Gregor's little brother, Sandor Clegane," she said The Hound's real name as she glanced at him, but he still stood there like a statue. "That's not very polite to not know people by their name, little dove..." she teased.

Not knowing what to say, she kept her mouth shut and blushed. After letting that sink in she realized she was to be his new sister. Sandor Clegane... she repeated his name in her head. Gregor Clegane... she repeated her betrothed's name. Was Sandor being shy because she will now be a part of his family? He did not seem the type to be shy. He wasn't quiet because he was shy. She could feel his rage. As the moment went on she saw his jaw clench tighter. Finally they heard footsteps come their way, but she heard the guard that was left with Cersei say, "The Mountain is here..."

The taste of bile filled her mouth. Myrna couldn't breathe.

"Myrna?" Cersei's voice sounded distant, but concerned.

Anything that was happening around her did not reach her senses. Old memories were triggered by the man who walked into the room. A burning sensation in her throat, eyes losing sight. He was part to blame. The man she had only known by the name, "The Mountain". To be his bride would be to relive that day, every single day. Then she lost all sight and everything went black.

...

When she woke the next morning she was cold to the bone. Her teeth chattered and she clutched to her furs, knowing her handmaiden would soon be there to make sure she was up and dressed. Her body was stiff and sore as if she had been struck by something. The memory from the evening before began to fill her mind completely and soon she remembered everything. Why were the Gods so cruel? A tear ran out the corner of her eye and ran down to her ear. Myrna did not want to get up. She would refuse to see any of them. Especially Cersei, the one who is allowing her to marry such a monster. The queen was on verge of laughing, especially when discovering Myrna had no clue who she was so excited to meet until they mentioned him by the name everyone knew. The Mountain. Myrna squeezed her eyes shut when she heard her wooden door creak open.

"Please, I do not feel very well today..." Myrna begged, lip trembling.

The door clicked close. "I'm sorry, m'lady. It is the king who asks for you this morning," the handmaiden tried to sound as sweet as she could, but anyone knew a visit with the king would be anything but sweet.

Another tear trailed down the same path as the previous one on her face as she let out a sarcastic chuckle. "This is exactly what I needed," Myrna bit her lip to stop from weeping.

"I'm so sorry, m'lady..." the handmaiden seemed unsure of what else she could say and after standing idly for a few seconds she decided to plan Myrna's outfit. From the wardrobe she pulled out a simple violet dress with long sleeves and a deep v shape neck. After managing to calm herself down, Myrna kicked the furs off of her and sat on the edge of her bed as she waited for her handmaiden to help her.

After the dress was on her, Myrna went to stare into the mirror. She could not help but feel her back in so much more pain than usual, plus the soreness was also in her arms and side. It was as if the handmaiden could see the pain she felt. "You fell hard when you fainted, m'lady. They had to carry you back," the handmaiden told her as she stood behind Myrna.

She tried to shake off everything that was related to the day before, physically and mentally. "I suppose we should start walking towards the throne room," Myrna sighed but was interrupted by an abrupt knock on the door. The door opened. "You again..."

The Hound had to duck his head when he stepped into her bedchamber. His eyes glanced to her handmaiden and around her room briefly before locking them on her. "King Joffrey is growing impatient," he declared.

"Just like his mother..." Myrna hissed, picking up her dress with her hands slightly so she would not trip as she breezed past The Hound. It did not take long at all for him to catch up to her down the corridor, but she refused to look at him. "You've come to ruin my day again, ser?" Myrna continued to spat nonsense at him.

The Hound grumbled. "I'm no knight, unlike my brother," he seemed to try to get back at her. "You wouldn't be the first wife he honored," the last sentence sounded more like a jape than the first.

"So you enjoy watching your good sisters be killed by him? Are you counting the days for me to join them?" Myrna went on but this time Sandor did not respond. That made her peek at him, and as usual, he was frowning and looking straight ahead. The anger inside her couldn't be contained and her true self came out for a second. Myrna yanked on his wrist, ignoring the soreness, but all it did was make him stop walking and glare down at her. "I'm talking to you!" she spat up at the tall man.

He ripped his hand away and shoved her forward. Myrna slightly winced. "Keep walking," he ordered.

Defeated, Myrna held her tongue and walked the rest of the way to the throne room with her head down. The giant, ancient doors to the throne room slowly opened and they sounded like an old man's groan. Once there was enough room for both The Hound and herself to enter they walked in and presented themselves to the boy on the throne. King Joffrey observed her deviously the entire time.

"It's about time you've come. I was growing bored of Sansa," he barked.

Myrna hid her disgust. So Sansa had suffered the same this morning. "It's a pleasure to be here," she kept it short and sweet. Myrna learned that was the best way to speak with King Joffrey.

"Is it?" he quickly responded, adjusting in his seat. "This was supposed to be strictly business, but that's no fun at all. Would you want to have some fun with me, Myrna?" he smiled.

Ser Meryn walked away from his spot from under the throne. Myrna had grown used to him as he was the one who enjoyed what he did the most and was the one who would step up. Quivering, she closed her eyes and waited for it to begin. Would she be struck to the ground this time? Would he rip and ruin another dress, leaving her having to walk back to her bedchamber with her chest exposed? Myrna waited but nothing happened. Confused, she opened one eye but all she could see was Sandor's wide back.

"What are you doing, dog? Step aside," King Joffrey ordered.

He did not speak right away, and he turned his head slightly as if to try and look at Myrna but she could not see what was going on. Then he found the words he wanted to say. "Gregor would not be happy if his new toy were to be used before him..." he directed his sentence mostly at Ser Meryn who turned white at the realization and took a step back.

King Joffrey was clearly upset as Myrna did not hear him rebuke as he usually did. The silence in that massive, spacious room was very uncomfortable. Then she heard some footsteps. "With me, all of you!" she heard Joffrey bark a command. Soon he came back into view, walking down the steps and off to the side of the room towards a door. When he could make eye contact with her he stopped and his Kingsguard stopped after him. "You cannot marry your husband yet. I need him for the war. My uncle will be on our shores soon, and only after I put my uncles head on a spike then you can become The Mountain's bitch," Joffrey taunted her. He smiled at her before leaving through the throne room doors and it left her shuddering.

Before leaving her, The Hound stared at her. Myrna looked back with red cheeks, slightly flustered. "Why? He could have..."

"Do not thank me, woman. You still belong to my brother," he rasped, and she watched him walk rapidly out of the room to follow King Joffrey. Yellow morning sunlight poured in through the hazy glass windows and she stood there in silence, all alone. Myrna felt so small in there. Why did he stand between her and the king? He could have easily lost his head for disobeying someone as mad as Joffrey. She put her head down and sighed. Not only did she feel guilty for yelling at him earlier, but she also knew there was nothing no one in the world could do to save her. Not even The Hound.

"My sad song only seems to be beginning," her voice being the only remaining sound in the empty space around her.