The same day, moments later.

Aliena

She took her seat next to Joffrey on the dais. With the queen and Myrcella absent, she was the highest ranking lady on the gallery. The horn blew and he came in, in dark grey armour with an olive green cloak that looked like a rag compared to Jaime Lannister's finery. The commons, or rather the common women, rooted as the queen's brother rode in, like a knight from a tale in shining armour, even his horse dressed in gold. He knows how to win their hearts. No one will root for the Hound when he is set against the sun himself. She almost felt sorry for Sandor Clegane. Almost.

They rode when the horn was blown, lances aimed at each other. In the last moment, right before the impact, the Kingslayer shifted in his seat and Clegane's lance caressed only the shiny shield, while the golden lance hit him square. Don't fall. Please. He did not and only now, Aliena realised what she thought. This morning, she had wanted him to lose...she still did, surely.

They took the second round and this time, Clegane was prepared. His lance knocked Jaime off his horse and he rolled in the sand, his shiny armour dulled by dirt, his helmet dented and turned. The commons did not root for him anymore, they laughed at him. Even the lords and ladies on the gallery could not hide their chuckles and Robert's booming laughter rang over the tribune. Her eyes were not on the kingslayer though. He is clever. Cleverer than most people think. Cleverer than I thought. She looked at him, mildly impressed against her will. He had ridden over to the far end of the lists but now he turned around on his seat and his eyes met hers, even over the long distance. Aliena felt her heart flutter and looked away, quickly. Not again. The next time she glimpsed over to him, he looked the other way. "I told you the Hound would win. What do I get as a reward?" Her cousin grinned at her smugly.

"You said the Hound would win the tourney." I could wipe that grin off your face if you want a reward. "He will. You will see. And then, I will have my reward."

Aliena knew what he wanted. It was a pain most of the time, to keep him away. But it was useful as well. She would content him with a quick, wet kiss. The thought alone would have sufficed to make her shudder but she did not let her disgust show. The kisses satisfied him for now...later, she would have to think of something else.

The next riders appeared at the ends of the list. Gregor Clegane...she remembered his brutish face, now concealed by a helmet, his size and the look in his eyes...If he had not come to my rescue, I might very well lay bloodied and dishonoured in a pavilion, maybe even dead. He refused me harshly but he saved me nonetheless. A gasp went through the crowd and Aliena looked up. Loras Tyrell had entered the lists, clad in silver armour with black vines, set with forget-me-nots of sapphires. That won't protect him from Ser Gregor's lance. He wore a cape sewn with real flowers, hundreds of them. He looks like a maiden. Aliena found his choice of dress ridiculous.

Both riders readied their lances, the horn sounded and the boy spurred his lean young mare. On the other side, Gregor rode as well but his heavy courser did not gallop in a straight line...he seemed distracted by something and while Ser Gregor still fought will his horse, Ser Loras was already on him, lifted his lance and hit the right spot. It looked as if he only tapped him lightly, yet, the Mountain fell backwards and his heavy horse fell with him. The crowd went mad for the young, shining knight, gasps and clapping and cheers sounded over the gallery, drowned out by the Hound's rasping, hollow laughter. Enjoy your brother's misfortune as long as it lasts... In the middle of this scene, Aliena saw Ser Gregor rise, his helmet next to him on the sand. "My sword!" he bellowed, his face was dark red with rage.

It took him only a single blow to separate the horse head from the body. Aliena had never heard a horse dying. It was blood-curling. The laughter had vanished, turned into shrieks, shouts and cries as Gregor strode over to the end of the lists where the Knight of Flowers still sat ahorse. The boy called for his sword but it was too late. The Mountain grabbed the horse's reins but the boy kept his seat until savage blow took him in the chest, denting the silver plate. The shining knight rolled in the dirt to the Mountain's feet, there were shouts everywhere as the man rose his sword and Aliena was sure she would see the boy die, when a rasping voice warned "Leave him be" and a soot-grey iron fist wrenched the Mountain away from the boy. Gregor was wild with rage, lifted his sword for a savage blow at his brother and Aliena heard herself shouting. "No!" But the Hound parried the blow and fought back. Their duel seemed to last forever, she stood now, tense and scared and upset, shouting again although it made no difference. The Mountain sent half a dozen blows to his brother's helmet, each parried by the soot-grey sword. Yet, Sandor never so much as aimed at his brother's unprotected head. Oh Gods, be good, protect him. In the midst of the tumult, Aliena heard her uncle's booming voice "STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!". Sandor Clegane went to one knee and his brother's blow hit only air. Gregor seemed to come to his senses now, dropped his sword, glanced at the king with fury and then strode off briskly. Some made meek attempts to stop him. "Leave him!" The king ordered. Aliena felt blood rushing back into her fingers, which she had clutched so tightly that they went numb. Oh thank the Gods. She still stood on the gallery when he looked up. His eyes were covered by his visor but she could feel them on her. He is so fierce, so brave, so strong. And he helped the boy when no one else did. Loras Tyrell came, dressed simply now in a linen tunic. He looked like a little girl next to the Hound. "I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser." The Hound just stared down at him. "I am no ser." He only rasped but the victory was his as well the 40 000 gold dragons and the cheers of both, commons and nobles. Has anyone ever cheered for him before? Aliena wondered as she stood up there, clapping and cheering and smiling.

Later, she walked with Joffrey to see the archery competition. Her cousin, Ser Balon Swann wouls be there and he was extraordinary. She hoped he would win, he had always been her favourite cousin. Little wonder if you consider the competition. Joffrey had other plans, though. She protested but the boy dragged her to the edge of the large field, where the shadow of the trees obscured the vision. She wanted to see whether her cousin fared well but Joffrey only grinned smugly. "You promised me a reward, remember? He won. My dog won."

Aliena tried to bite back her words. "I never promised anything." She said, almost cooly. "You can not demand anything of me, Joff." she said. He became angry, she saw it in his eyes. Soothe him now. What does it matter, a peck on the lips, away from prying eyes. She came closer, she was taller than him, something he did not like being reminded of.

"I am your prince-"

"You are and yet, I am no whore. You can ask me, respectfully. And if I am inclined, I will show myself kind." She murmured into his ear. He looked at her. "A prince does not beg!"

"You should never beg." she agreed. "But you deal with a lady. Ask me kindly. I am not your dog." He saw he could not win like this. He liked to please her and if it came so easy... He knew he would get what he want. She saw the greed in his eyes.

"Kiss me, sweet lady. here in the shadow of the trees. Show me your affection."

She bent down, kissed him lightly on the lips and wanted to draw back but he held her head tightly. She felt his tongue on her lips, knew she would have to part hers soon and begged the Gods to send someone, anyone.

"Chrmchrm." The boy let go of her neck and she swirled around. Anyone but him. He had changed into a dark green plain linen tunic and black breeches. Again, she felt the urge to protect him. That was, until she saw his face. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were burning with rage.

"Dog!" Joffrey was exhilarated. "The lady just paid her wager. She bet against you, she thought the Knight of Flowers would make it." Joffrey laughed but Sandor Clegane didn't. That is just not true. She wanted to tell him that Joff got it wrong, that she had to bet on the kingslayer in their presence. But she didn't. The Hound turned to her, disdain in her eyes and for once, she could understand. She wondered whether he had seen how Joffrey had held her head. She hoped he did but she feared not. It had been Joff's right hand and he had come from the left. "Hoped for it, did you?" he rasped, sneering. Joffrey laughed as if he had made a jape. "N-no. It was very brave how-" She sounded like Sansa. "Brave." he spat the word out. "Prince, the King requests your presence. The feast starts soon." He turned around, without a word and strode over to the archery field that now laid deserted. "Come, Aliena." Joffrey called for her as she did not follow him. She moved as if she was made of wood.

The feast in the evening was a splendid affair in different tents and sites. A group of musicians here, a few puppeteers there and two singers sang the "Dance of Dragons" on an open field lit by torches and the full moon but Aliena could not appreciate the extravangance. It was all wasted, her dress and her finery, all the care she had taken with her appearance. Many lords and knights came to her, begged for a dance, complimented her on her beauty, some even on her character. She danced with some of them, to not give rise to questions. She kept a smile on her face all the time, a gracious one for the compliments, a sweet one for the dance and a suggestive one when she joked with them. But her mind was elsewhere. She could not forget the expression on his face.

"Mylady?" Ser Andar Royce had a pleasant voice and a pleasant face. "Forgive me, Ser. I fear I am a little tired." Another smile, apologetic this time. He still had his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. But they no longer moved to the music.

"Shall we go outside? The air is fresher there. But I can also escort you back to the castle if you wish, Mylady." She knew he would without any second thoughts. He took her hand and led her out of the tent. He was a handsome man in his twenties, strong and battle proven like his father, with a quick mind and a gentle nature. The heir of the Runestone, the impressive fortress of old Bronze Kings. He was a good match, even for her…Although she would have to give up Storm's End for him. Yet, her heartbeat did not quicken when she was with him as it did when...Stop. Even now, as they stood outside, alone under the stars, she felt nothing apart from sympathy and respect. He had taken off his half cape and laid it over her bare shoulders to keep her warm. "Do you feel better now, Mylady?" he asked softly.

"Yes, thank you, Ser Andar. You should go back inside, I am bad company I fear." She gave him a smile, an honest one.

"Not at all. Lady Aliena, you are ... the best company. You are clever and witty and kind. Beautiful as well. … I -" He would ask her to marry him. She couldn't. "-please, Ser. Do not speak further. Not here. Not now. Not...yet."

He looked at her face, trying to understand. "You are not ready to leave home?" he asked, still kind. He is good and kind and gentle. Why do I not want him? "No, not yet. I lost my parents early, my aunt and uncles are the only family I have left."

"I understand. You are still quite young. At some point you will start your own family, though." "At some point, for sure." She tried to smile but the thought frightened her. It was easier to be alone, with no one to look after and no one to care for.

"You could visit the Vale, Mylady. I would happily show you Runestone. A great fortress, impressive and strong with a long history. I am sure you would like it. It is a lot like your home."

"Like the Red Keep?!" Aliena was puzzled.

"Like Storm's End. I thought-"

He understand me. "Yes. You are right, good ser. I would love to. Maybe in autumn, when the trees change colour." She was sure he noticed how she pushed it far into the future but he let that pass and did not push her any further. When she shivered, her took her hands in his to keep them warm. They talked of other things and after a while, Aliena asked him to go back into the tent. He did as she bid, kissed her hand and promised to say goodbye to her on the morrow. She was left alone in the cold night, his cape still around her shoulders.

"A true knight, huh?" A voice rasped from the trees behind her. She swirled around. Sandor Clegane stood in the darkness, moonlight illuminated his face dimly. She walked over to him, to the edge of the forest. He was drunk, very drunk, and he stood there in his linen tunic, leaning against a tree, wineskin in hand and pain in his eyes. Suddenly, the lump of lead was back in her stomach again. Now. she thought. She did not need to explain anything, yet… He stood in front of her, no expression on his face.

"What you saw in the woods...I did not. I mean...I did not want to…"

He sneered. "You stammer like a fool."

"I know." A pause. "What I mean to say is, I did not bet against you. I said I'd bet on the Kingslayer but I had no other-"

"I don't bloody care who you bet on, little swan. You like the Knight of fucking Flowers, you bet on him, I don't care. It was my dirty sword that saved him. What do you say to that, huh?" He wanted to leave but she held on to his arm. She felt his heat through the thin fabric. "Don't go. Please." He stopped and turned to look at her. "What?" Aliena laid out her words carefully, she wanted to make him understand. "When you fought your brother...You stood in his way when no one else did, when all the king's white knights shyed away. You were very brave. You fought so well. I was … proud. I am happy you won the tourney, you deserved it." Now the other thing. "Joffrey dragged me into the woods, demanded a reward. What was I supposed to do? I thought it would only be a peck on the lips but he held my head tightly and he tried to - you came just in time." When she looked up, most of the rage was gone from his eyes. "I don't care what you do with the boy." he said, but his voice had lost its sharpness. "Or with that other." He looked down upon her. "A nice cape." Now he was mocking her again. She knew how it looked like. Loras yesterday, Joffrey and Andar today. She seemed to be very generous with her affections. "Ser Andar was just-"

"Knightly?" He rasped. "Spare me." But he stayed, his gaze on her.

"I was cold. But if it makes you happy." She took the cape off and flung it onto the grass. Her shoulders were bare again and the cold night air made her shudder. His gaze flickered over her,he took in the view. She liked the way he looked at her. It had paid off, after all.

"You are beautiful." His voice was bitter. Aliena did not know what to reply to that. She leant over to him, her body touched his and she felt the warmth of his skin through his tunic. She stood on her tiptoes, her face only inches away from his. She inhaled the familiar smell of wine and horse, sweat and something musky. For a moment, they breathed each other's air. A breeze brushed over her skin and she shivered. Then she felt rough, warm hands on her naked skin. She looked up to his face again, their eyes locked. She lifted a hand up and cupped his good cheek. She knew her fingers were ice cold but he did not flinch away. Will we kiss now? But he did not make a move. She stretched and then planted a kiss on the burned side of his face, very softly. The scarred skin felt strangely smooth and subtle but she smelled the strange odour of the liquid that oozed from his wounds. She backed away to look at him. His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment and she was sure he would kiss her. "Keep those lips off me, swan." He rasped and pushed her away. He strode away until he almost stumbled over the half cape. He picked it up and tossed it over to her. "Keep your fine knight's cloak, princess." he sneered and staggered away. Aliena leant against the tree. Oh Gods. This is not true. I have sunken so low...Refused by him, of all men. This is it. I will stop now. I will go back into the tent and flirt and charm until I feel myself again. And I will never, never again waste a thought on him.

Sandor

He could have slapped himself. Not just slapped, he could have impaled himself on his sword. She had been so beautiful. Even more so than usually. The gown had shown more than the others and his imagination was fuelled. He had already seen it before the joust. He remembered her, cheering for him when he won against the kingslayer. And he had seen her standing up there, clutching her hands, her face pale and frightened. For him. 40 000 gold dragons were not much but for a tiny moment, drunk on the sight, he had thought about asking her. He had laughed bitterly about that, later.

After the joust all he had wanted was to talk to her, see whether she had forgiven him. But then he had seen her in the forest, the brat's dirty hands wrapped around her neck, his wet, fat lips on hers. The expression on his face, so smug. That had been hard enough to swallow.

Later at the feast, he couldn't keep his eyes off her but it had only fuelled his anger and glumness. She had danced more than a dozen times with knights and lords and lords' sons. He had left the tent to breathe but not even there, she left him in peace. She had come out with that Royce, all goggle-eyed and full of sickening courtesy, he had been. He had almost asked her to marry him. That bloody bastard knew her for two days and was so insolent to think she would consider him. It had made him sick. She had rebuffed him though, although not as harshly as she should have.

Then, she had been alone then, for the first time this evening. He could have just stayed quiet, she would not have noticed him. But he had been weak. Again. She had tried to explain everything to him. She had been so apologetic and he had liked that more than he cared to admit. She wasn't indifferent. He remembered the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth and cold. Her lips on his scarred skin, tingling as every touch on that side did. She had been so close. He had smelled her perfume, her natural scent. But as every time, when he wanted to, his courage had left him. Give me a battlefield, a sword, a pit full of angry lions, anytime. Not this bloody dance where I know not a single fucking step. The truth was, he was scared of the rejection that would inevitably come. Surely, she wanted a knight, a lord. She was meant for one. She was pretty and a fine little lady and he was a repulsive dog at best. Nothing good would come out of growing too fond of her, only pain and humiliation and he had enough of that already. He would not allow her to reject him. Bugger this. She will forget about it. I will. It is nothing that can't be cured with some wine. She had wanted to. He had seen that. Somehow, she had wanted to kiss him. Aye, and the spoilt brat and the Royce as well, for all I know. Perhaps it was just another scheme. Make every man fall for her and then use them for her advantage. Now, that he thought about it, it seemed likely. Bugger her and her lies and falsehood. I am done with that. The familiar hot feeling of anger rose in his chest. This was good. He would not bother with her anymore. There was no point. He cared about nothing and no one. He was made to be alone. That was what made him strong. No one would tear that down.