His fist slammed into the wall of the privy, leaving a dent. Streaks of blood mixed with the crumbling plaster, but he was so angry he barely even noticed the cuts on his knuckles. I'm not shy, and I can speak alright. Everyone was afraid of him, everyone.
The servants shook with fear when they brought him his meals or made his bed, relief in their eyes when he just grunted and sent them on their way again without incident. His brother always ran from him, and his sister would turn pale when she caught a glimpse of him. Even father was scared of him, and rightly so. I could snap his neck no problem.
He put his cock away, wiped his bloody hand clean on his shirt as best he could and started to head back to the Great Hall. "Sit with the lions, boy, maybe they'll take you into their service, son," Ser Harthor had said. But he was sick of all the noise, of the red cloaks staring at him, of his father trying to sell him like a piece of meat, of the lion lords looking down on him. Fuck 'em all. He turned around and walked towards his bedchamber in the inner keep.
His brother was heading down the hallway, stopping in his tracks as soon as he saw Gregor coming. For a moment, it looked as if there was a smile on Sandor's face, but it was only the light of the torch flickering across his scarred face. Then, his brother turned around and sped away. Run, little bastard, run, an' thank the gods I'm in no mood to give chase.
The door to his sister's room was ajar. Elinor stood behind a half-closed curtain, wearing nothing but her long white underskirt, bent over a bucket, washing herself to get ready for bed. Father told her I'm at the feast. She thinks she's safe.
Gregor's mouth twisted into a smile. He pushed the door open a little further to get a better look.
Elinor was a woman flowered, only two years younger than him, her waist slender, her breasts full and round. He could tell by the way her hands were shaking as she pinned up her hair that she had heard him. But she pretended as if he wasn't there, spreading soapy foam over her face, gently rubbing it in before washing it off with water from the bucket.
His cock was twitching. I could take her again, makes no matter now. They would never find her a husband, not after what he had already done to her. He unlaced his pants and started stroking himself, watching as Elinor patted her face dry and slipped on her bedrobe.
A hand touched his shoulder. Father. "It's late. Come, boy, time to go." Not while m'lords are here, his eyes seemed to say. I mean it, son.
Gregor slammed his knuckles into the wall, leaving a bloody print. He wanted to shove Ser Harthor aside, walk into Elinor's room and take her right in front of him. But his father's eyes were cold. Not today, son.
"Fine," he grunted. He was too tired to deal with his bitch of a sister anyway. She wasn't like the serving girls. Sometimes, she would fight back, screaming for help - as if any of the guards would dare to stop him. But her shrieking and kicking always made his head hurt.
Ser Harthor accompanied him all the way back to his room. "Get some sleep, boy," he said before he closed the door. "We'll go huntin' with the lords tomorrow, you show 'em what you can do."
He thinks he can tell me what to do, but he can't, he's weak, weak n' scared. Gregor was pacing in his room, trying to calm down. He was about to go back and find Elinor to take what was his when a knock on the door interrupted him.
It was his sister's handmaiden, carrying a flagon of wine. "Your... your... f-father sent me, m'lord. To... to bring you-"
Before she could finish the words, he had grabbed her, pushing her onto the bed, tearing open her dress.
The girl let out a shriek and tried to twist away, but it was too late; he had her pinned down. He covered her mouth with one hand to muffle her screams as he ripped off her smallclothes. "Shut up!" He didn't like it when they screamed. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
He flipped her onto her stomach, holding her down as he forced his way inside her. The girl was sobbing, writhing underneath him in a desperate attempt to free herself. "No-one can help you none," he whispered in her ear, "Not the guards, not my father, not the lion lords. I'm stronger than all of 'em!"
Somehow, those words only made him angrier though. I wanted Elinor, not her. He thought of the lion lords, all high and mighty, with their contempt and their pity. I could have had Elinor no problem if it wasn't for them.
Instead, he was stuck with this useless serving wench. Father's afraid o' the lions, but I'm not. I could take 'em just like I can take her. He wondered if they would they sob and squirm like her or if they would fight back like Elinor.
Either way, he would wipe that smile off the stout lion's face, and then he would teach his arrogant brother what it meant to be afraid. They wouldn't look at me like that no more. They'd be scared o' me.
"I'll show 'em what I can do, father" he mumbled as he spilled his seed inside the girl. "I'll... show... them... alright."
