Sandor Clegane

He watched the wooden knight from a distance and sat with his little hands intertwined, swinging his legs, wishing it, but it belonged to Gregor, he knew. He heard the sweet voice telling him that he would go to anyone's house, get anything, and he just nodded and did not care, just did not look away from the knight, who seemed to call for him. He heard the door close and looked at it. He was alone at home, Gregor no longer played with that knight for years, what harm would it do?

He got to his feet, still fearful, and his brown eyes glittered at the knight, wanting him. He held it between his fingers and studied his details with appreciation. A timid smile grew on his lips. One day he would be a great knight, as in the stories. A Sir, who lived his adventures, riding a white horse, conquering his honor and glory, and would willingly serve a king as good as could be, and beautiful maids would chase after him, begging for a kiss, begging for a night , or a life, would be a good family man and a better knight, the most skillful and kind of all and could help all who needed it.

He sat on the ground, playing with the knight as if he thought himself a true knight. How sweet it was to play with that little man, and he could not tell how much he stood there, only to be a child, babbling alone, imagining himself struggling with arrogant men, murderers, thieves, fighting in war, and honor, home with women, partying, and drinking after a winner fight. It was so glorious, to imagine himself a true knight.

Only the noise brought him back, scared. He looked at his terrifying brother, with the strands of brown hair in front of his eyes, making it difficult to see his brother who though young, looking only twelve, was as tall as an adult. Sandor stood up, wide-eyed, quickly depositing the knight on the table, placing his hands behind his body, and stammering as he spoke.

"Gregor, I was joking." His voice was low, flawed and fearful. He could hear only the brutality of his brother approaching, and his whole body felt fear. Gregor's thick fingers curled into his hair and dragged him as Sandor groaned in pain, holding his brother's strong arms. And then he felt it. He felt his face get warm, then the blistering burn. He felt as if the fire swallowed him and as if his skin had been plucked from his face over and over again. Gregor rubbed Sandor's face against the hot embers without mercy and the young child screamed, screaming with all the strength his lungs could give him. He was pushing and thrashing uselessly. Gregor continued to rub his face against the embers, listening to him scream, taking pleasure in doing so.

The fire consumed little Sandor's face and the blood could not even drip. It was the most terrible pain he could feel being burned alive so strong he did not feel when his pants began to get wet.

"Gregor!" The sweet voice heard, now desperate to scream. -"Gregor, release it! Gregor!"She tugged at his arms, and then Sandor saw nothing else, being overwhelmed by the intense pain and closing his eyes. Gregor finally let go of him, and only saw as the young woman threw herself at Sandor. "Gregor!" Gregor stood with the brothers.

"Now dream about your birds, you weak cunt ". He spat the words, and walked over to his wooden knight, catching him, and heading for the bedroom. There were a few things that Sandor remembered from his childhood. You're sure to remember. His face would be forever marked.

Clarie Baratheon

In an obscure and a dark place one could see only intensely blue eyes, standing fixed like statues but alive, he could feel. It was the only thing that could be seen beside a cage, a little away from those eyes. Made of extremely thick and beautiful grids of gold, brilliant and luxurious, preventing the Lion from leaving. There was a collar also luxurious made of great precious stones but as tight as it could be against the neck of the feline beast.

Then she heard a sudden bark as frightening as those eyes followed by a bellow echoed finally giving the grill a light that resembled the fire, but she did not look directly at the lion. She was looking at the dog. He barked fiercely at the blue eyes, and she saw the burned face of the poor rabid dog.

There was a small bird beneath the dog, wounded perhaps, but the bird glistened and this made the dog appear larger, stronger. It made the playing cards so powerful and the lion more feared, more powerful. There were two other animals, but she would not look at them and she would not be able to see them, even if she tried. They were so far away.

She only watched the dog growl, as the bird plopped, snuggling in its paw. He jumped back as the sword fell in front of him. She fell, seated and could hear a strange growl which she had never heard before, that no animal she knew would produce. Next, a howl followed by a few more. And with a blink of an eye, there were people who knew how to be the brave men who beat their spears to the ground.

The blue-eyed men wanted the sword, she knew and she touched it before they could approach. It was warm, it was as if it had just come out of the fire, and then it was thrown back. She opened her green eyes and sat on the bed. She looked around and noticed that she was in his room. The little girl got up and ran out of her room.

She was a child, maybe eight, maybe five, maybe more or maybe less but she was so small, and she was holding her dress while running with a shy smile on her lips. She opened the door as fast and as euphoric as she could be and came close to her father who looked at her and she did not even realize the anger in his eyes. The anger he always had in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Dad!! I dreamed of jackals, a lion, and a dog, who protected his bird from the blue-eyed men. She jumped into place still clutching her dress, trying to remember the dream that was slowly disappearing from her mind when she felt her father's heavy hand on her face, making her fly. She cringed on the floor as her face hurt.

"I told you plainly, the meeting room is strictly forbidden!" His voice sounded like thunder and she stood there, as she always did when he or her stepmother or her older siblings mistreated her. Waiting until he ordered her or pulled her hair out, but that was not what happened. She felt the warmth of a body pulling it off the floor and holding it in her lap. She opened her eyes, and she could see a man with blue eyes and long hair trapped in a bun and a beard to be done with a friendly smile.

He could see another man behind, he wore his hair half loose, and he was a very light brown and he also had a beard.

"Forgive my meddling, cousin Robert. "She whispered tears to our eyes and heard her father clear his throat, angry.

"King Robert."She corrected him and the man looked at the other, with a very ugly look, berating him for such an act.

"Do not worry, Lady Clarie." He said, wiping her tears away.

"Forgive me My King, but Clarie is not Lady." Her father said and Robert looked at him once more.

"Yes, when she carries the family name." He said and Clarie stood there in Robert's arms.

"But my king, I did not authorize her to have my name." He said, his tone low but visibly irritated.

"There's no need for you to autherize it." Robert said, turning slightly to Eddard, handing her the girl. "I am the current ruler of the house Baratheon, king of the seven kingdoms and I can fucking well give her the name of my family." Robert looked visibly irritated by what the man had done. He had always heard rumors that they mistreated her, but he never imagined it to be true, coming from a man as loyal as Newt, as kind as he appeared to be and his children.

"Come, Ned, we'll end this meeting later." He growled and started walking toward the door while the wolf followed him.

"My king, you did not get your father's permission ..." Eddard said, and he was strong he was walking beside Robert.

"Please, Ned do not call me that." Robert whispered, and the man carrying the girl just continued. Robert had already had a little drink that day.

"She will not have legitimate rights even if all of Newt's children die, they would not have to share their wealth, they could expel her without anyone saying a word. "He said, following the king. "She'll still be a bastard by law, she'll only have a name." He said, and she settled into Eddard's arms. "And she will be continued to be treated as one and she will be mistreated every day for having your name now". Ned warned, and Robert seemed to get more angry with every word. "And it is not prudent to leave that meeting in such a way, my king."

"She'll be a Baratheon, anyway. "He said loudly. "Take her to Winterfell and foster her as you are doing with Theon." He said, and his voice was very annoying and the drinks he had taken did not seem to help.

"My king, not wanting to be rude but my house, my castle, my family is not an orphanage.I take care of Theon and I have my own bastard. "He said and Robert laughed a little more relaxed.

"One more will not make a difference" Robert said. "She'll be better off with you than here," Robert said, slowing down, looking at his friend. "When she reaches a certain age, marry her to some family and you will not have any problems, you can forget her." Robert put his hand on his friend's shoulder, but Eddard knew it was not so easy to send someone away after a couple of years together, even if he only created her without blood ties, just like Theon. "Come, my friend, I need your help ... A king can not have a bastard from another Baratheon." He said and took a deep breath. "I can not raise a bastard. I can not raise mine nor can i raise Newt's. It would not be a good thing and I can not send her to Tywin. He created a Clegane, and he knows the motive, the "why" he did it and with her, it would be no different. " He said, and Eddard took a deep breath, giving himself a few seconds to think, and nodded . "Good, I thought I'd have to give you an order." He said more seriously and walked again, and Eddard stood there, holding her, standing, watching his king walk away.

"What is Winterfell, Lord Stark?" She whispered clinging to the man as she stared at his light brown tresses. Eddard closed his eyes, thinking again, and sighed.

"It sounds like your new home." He whispered. And Clarie shifted strangely in his arms.