Tanith
"Take a seat. This will not take long." Cersei gestured to the ornate opposing chair in her study, and Tanith perched on its edge. Cersei examined her for a few moments, before breaking into a smile. "Relax. All I wish to tell you is that we are going to combine your wedding with your name-day celebrations tomorrow. I know your name-day is the day after, but you will be halfway to Clegane's Keep by then."
"I will?"
"Yes, of course," the queen rose from her chair and walked round the desk, leaning on it and looking down at Tanith. Tanith's hair was styled in the Southern way, and the queen twirled a pleat in her hands. "He has to take you to your new home before he re-joins the army in the Riverlands."
"Must I stay there alone?"
The queen shook her head, a girlish laugh unexpectedly coming from her throat. "You will have maids and servants, people to wait on you. And soon, you will have your heirs."
Tanith followed Cersei's gaze to her stomach, and tried to imagine herself pregnant with the Mountain's son. She felt bile rise within her.
"Will my mother and brother be able to join me?"
The queen sighed. "Perhaps your mother. But your brother will be needed in the army for as long as is necessary. You must understand. If the Starks only did as your family did, you would all be together and happy now."
Tanith nodded, and felt it in her to try one last time. "Can I see them one more time before they go?"
Cersei shook her head. "Absolutely not. The ships are getting ready now. Besides, you just saw them."
"Well they aren't leaving without me," the silky voice of Jaime Lannister filled the room. He strode across to the desk, placing his fists down and leaning comfortably. He flashed a smile at Tanith, which she weakly returned. "I will take the girl down to the harbour to bid farewell to her family."
Cersei returned to her seat with a look of annoyance, but said, "Very well. But take Ser Meryn with you so he can escort her back." As Tanith left the room with Ser Jaime, the queen muttered, "We do not want any stowaways."
The walk to the harbour felt agonisingly long, but Tanith was glad that Ser Jaime and Ser Meryn's conversation about weaponry filled the silence as she trudged behind them. When she finally saw her brother's glimmering curls, she bounded along to him.
"Warren." She crashed into her brother, taking in his smell and the feeling of his hair tickling her cheek and ear. Warren squeezed her tightly.
"Tanith. I am going to miss you so much."
"Warren you need to tell me everything," she begged, speaking in a hushed tone despite Jaime and Trant being several metres away. "I need to know what you found out about the Mountain."
Warren's eyes darted around, and he leaned into her. "I'll make this quick. The Mountain was a deliberate choice. We are in his debt, Tanith. Why, I do not know. But mother is allowing this marriage because of it. She has known since before we even received that letter that something like this would happen."
A horn and a flurry of voices boomed across the harbour, obviously beckoning for the ships to be boarded now. Tanith was barely listening.
"I need to go now," Warren grabbed Tanith by her arms tightly, and planted a hard kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry that I cannot be with you Tanith."
"Wait," she pleaded. "You have to help me, please!"
"My lady," Trant's raspy voice interrupted them as he took her arm and pulled her back. "It's time to let them go."
"NO!" she howled at him, pushing him back. "Warren, please, no!" Her brother pulled her back in one last time, squeezing every inch of her and kissing her hair. He held her for another moment, and whispered, "Listen, the Hound has what you need. Go to him before the wedding."
Before Tanith could utter another word, she was hauled back by Trant and Warren became lost in the squabble of soldiers heading up the dock and onto the ship. Tears flowed down her face as she was restrained, calling her brother's name again and again until his golden curls became lost in a sea of armour and swords.
Sandor
She was in tears and being carried by Trant when he saw her. Probably not the best time to tell her what ye know. Sandor ducked into an alcove near them, out of sight but within earshot.
"Stop yer fussing, girl!" Trant hissed, letting her go outside her chambers. "In you go." The girl turned to face him, and wiped her face calmly.
"I do not wish to go in," she said quietly. "I wish to take a walk… alone."
"As if I'm gonna let you do that," Trant scoffed. "Queen wants you here till the wedding."
"I almost forgot about that." She uttered sarcastically. She pushed on her door and let it thud behind her, and Trant cursed under his breath as Sandor appeared.
"For once I'm glad to see you, Hound," he muttered, nodding his head toward Tanith's door. "Keep a lookout will ye? Make sure she doesn't move."
"And where are you going?" Sandor asked, taking a protective stance in front of her door nevertheless.
Trant ignored him, and disappeared down the corridor, and Sandor knocked softly on the door.
"Piss off, Trant!"
"It's not Trant." There was a pause, followed by feather-light footsteps and the door opening a crack. Sandor was saddened to see her pretty face blotchy and swollen with crying, her green eyes drowning in fresh tears about to be released.
"Come in," she whimpered, and turned back into the room. He followed. She gestured to the bed, and he sat obediently, not saying a word. He waited patiently while she cleaned her face as best she could, and heard her taking a few deep breaths. Then, she turned to face him, and pulled the chair from her vanity table over so it was a few feet from him. She sat, and took one more breath.
"You need to talk to me."
"Aye."
"Go on. I need to hear it all."
"I was waiting in the queen's study the other day when I found some letters. To and from your mother and Cersei. Most of them were dated before your mother claims Cersei first wrote to you. Most of them were about some arrangement involving my brother."
"Yes. Warren told me that my family is in debt to Gregor. Why?" Sandor could barely believe the serenity in her demeanour now, so transformed from the blubbering mess that had appeared before him earlier.
"Tanith," he began. "Believe me when I tell ye, I had no idea. Cersei came in when I was reading the letters. Thought she'd have my head for catching me, but she seemed pretty chuffed that I'd found them. She loved explaining it to me, fucking revelled in it."
"Tell me."
Sandor paused, and rubbed between his eyes with his fingers. "Years ago, my brother was sent to Folder Castle to be a part of the defensive garrison during the Rebellion. Stopping the Mad King's men from getting beyond the Vale. He didn't like it, wanted to be more involved in the fighting in King's Landing."
Tanith folded her arms, and leant closer to him. "I know there is more, Sandor."
"Aye, well, after a while, your father sent him back here. Yer mother claimed he tried to rape her. Harran wanted a trial. She wanted his head. But Robert couldn't kill him; Tywin Lannister had invested a fuck ton in this rebellion for him and he couldn't kill his prize fucking knight."
"Then what happened?"
"So that was it," he said. "He wasn't gonna die, but Harr- your father was stuck between his family and his duty. So he chose family. He withdrew his forces, because Robert never got justice for your mother. Robert must've been angry, but I guess he had bigger fish to fry."
"Was it true?" Tanith rose, and began pacing. She refused to look at Sandor, and began picking the skin on her cuticles and smoothing her dress over and over despite it being creaseless.
"No."
"How can you be sure?"
"I know, Tanith. I can show ye them myself if that's what it takes." He walked over to her and softly took her arms in his hands, holding her just closer than arm's length.
"Show me what?"
"The letters," Sandor said. "Your mother says, plain as day that she made it up. He never touched her. My brother's no saint – she knew his reputation – but he never laid a finger on her. The letter was an attempt at an apology before Cersei demanded the marriage. Your marriage."
Tanith's mouth fell open. She reached up to grab Sandor's waist for support, but felt herself needing to sit down. He moved her to the bed, and sat her down. He loomed over her first, then sat next to her and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"Why would she do it?"
Sandor shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know. Ye'll need to ask her, if ye see her again."
"I don't want to see her again," Tanith said quietly. "Ever."
She lay on his lap and sobbed quietly into his tunic, and he wrapped his arms around her, not too tight. He let her sink into him and he took all of her in: the smell of her hair, the feeling of it licking his chin and neck as she tucked her head under his. He felt the soft material of her dress as he scooped her onto his lap, and let her cry.
After a few hours, Sandor checked that Tanith was asleep, and gently lifted her from his lap and onto her bed. He headed for the door.
"Sandor, wait." Her voice permeated the silence of the Keep. He turned around and met his eyes with hers, the green and grey still glinting in the distant moonlight.
"Warren told me something today. He says you have what I need."
He walked slowly back toward her, leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. Then he whispered in her ear, "I will give it to you tomorrow. Sleep well, Lady Tanith."
