Sandor watched as his brother approached, followed by his hoard of men. They were drunk and looking to brawl- he could almost smell the viciousness seeping from their pours. Gregor dragged a man behind him, not even stopping to entertain his crying and pleading for mercy. Sandor forced himself to his feet- he'd be damned before he let his brother see him lying in the mud. He could only imagine how he looked: desperate and sallow and yellow eyed, pathetically caked in mud.
"Brother! You rise before a mountain!" Gregor cried out, looking as triumphant as a conqueror.
Sandor said nothing, gritting his teeth together, refusing to speak.
"Have you nothing to say to your beloved kin? No greeting, no well wishes?" Gregor asked, looking amused and sadistic.
"I hope the Gods find you well." Sandor muttered, his throat seizing around the words.
"They find me blessed. And you, a day or two away from your thirteenth name day. You look as though you have learned your station well since we last met."
Sandor looked him in the eyes, and then glanced at the man struggling on the ground. One of Gregor's friends kicked him in the side, causing all the air to leave his lips. He was screaming loudly, crying out for mercy.
"I've brought you news from Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister wants another member of the Clegane family to join his legions. I couldn't think of a better candidate than my own beloved brother. Tywin said he needed a good dog, and I thought I could offer him the perfect breed."
Sandor looked away, starring at his feet. Gregor came closer to the kennel, letting himself in, dragging his captive behind. Gregor threw the man at Sandor's feet, tossing his small knife dagger behind Sandor. It landed on the damp earth, getting covered in mud.
"Pick up the dagger, brother." Gregor ordered.
Sandor looked down at the man barely breathing before him, unmoving.
"Do I need to give you a fist to make you move quicker? Pick up the dagger, you whore-son."
Sandor clamored to obey, turning his back for only a moment, pulling the dagger up. "There, I have it." Sandor said, brandishing the knife for his brother and the men. They cheered and howled, amused at him.
"You look like you've become a giant since we last saw each other. Skinny, but how you've grown." Gregor intoned, smiling proudly. It made Sandor feel a sickness in the pit of his stomach, the way his brother spoke to him so sweetly. "Show me that you are no longer a boy. Show me that you've become a dog. Kill this man."
Sandor's eyes went wide and his mouth opened just slightly. He shook his head in disbelief.
"I've not killed a man before."
"Get to it, dog. I've not asked you a question, I've given you a command. Kill this man, and I'll have your chains removed. You'll go in and bathe and drink ale and sleep by the fire, and before the moon is half full you will be saddled and travel the Gold Road to squire for Knights and earn the privilege of your name. Now kill him."
The man at Sandor's feet was protecting his head with his hands, trembling and whimpering on the ground.
"What has this man done?" Sandor asked, his voice breaking.
"Done? I swear boy, another question and I'll make your life more hell than it is now. I don't think my friends would turn down the chance to bugger such a sweet young boy. Kill him, now, or face worse for yourself. You won't save him by delaying, you will only damn yourself."
Sandor swallowed hard and studied the man at his feet. He was cleaner than Sandor, though he was dirty still. His hair hung in muddy clumps, and his tunic was torn. He had a dented and stained gorget secured around his neck. Sandor's hands trembled around the hilt of the dagger. He chanced to look up at his brother and his companions, and knew that there was no empty threat in the possibility of a raping by these monsters. He knew that they were all bastards, each one worse than the other. If he didn't kill this man they would do it themselves, and drag it out with torture, and then they would bugger him until they all had their fill. The only option was to kill this man swiftly and without pain.
He knelt beside the man who struggled to escape him. He wanted to beg the man to forgive him, but before he could say the words he was upon him, driving the sharp tip into the space where the gorget pulled away from his flesh. The feeling of the knife entering the man's throat made him feel strange- the skin resisted the blade and then broke with a soundless pop, and the knife stopped when it found the bone in the neck. He was sloppy and couldn't pull the blade out proper, so he pulled it across his throat, causing an arterial spray to explode from beneath the gorget. The man struggled and choked, trying to yell while drowning from his own blood, causing Sandor to pull the blade out abruptly, and then sent it back down onto the man's eye, pushing down into his skull. Sandor jumped back when he realized what he'd done, and felt tremendous and ill and frightened and powerful all at once. He skittered away from the now still corpse, and his knees gave way from underneath him.
His senses were darkening, and his brother's men cheered loudly behind him.
Gregor stepped over the body and produced a key, freeing Sandor from his collar.
The men began barking like dogs, howling at the sky. The real dogs in the kennel snapped at the air and barked and growled, speaking to Sandor in the language he had learned. They knew that one of the pack was leaving them.
Gregor placed his hand on Sandor's head and tousled his lice infested hair.
"That's a good dog." He praised.