A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites :-) Here's your next installment. Enjoy!
What in the seven hells do you want, Imp?"
Such a pleasant man to deal with. Tyrion openly frowned at Clegane as he carefully approached the large man cleaning his great sword.
"Your manners could do with some improvement," Tyrion replied deprecatingly.
"So could your height," the Hound rasped back, unfazed.
"Too true," Tyrion conceded with a small smile. "But it is easier to teach a man courtesies than to teach him to grow."
"Otherwise our little lord would be larger than you," Bronn contributed offhandedly.
Clegane grunted, but offered nothing else in the way of response. Tyrion gritted his teeth slightly as he contemplated the difficulties that came with speaking to this man. He decided the usual niceties would be wasted here and proceeded straight to the point.
"You need to come to the godswood and meet with someone."
The Hound ceased the scraping of steel on stone to level him with a wary look. Tyrion waited a few beats and when it became apparent Clegane was not speaking he continued on.
"Now, if you please. It is a matter of some importance. That is, unless you do not wish to make your future wife happy." He did not want to give too much away. In truth, he did not believe Clegane would agree to meet with their honored guest if he knew what they would converse about.
"It would please me if you were to bugger off," he growled out before returning to his sword.
"Gods, Clegane, must you always be so bloody difficult? Can you not once just go along with something?" Tyrion griped as he fisted his cloak in his hands. "Have I done anything – recently – that you have not benefited from?"
That gave the large man pause. Scars twitching, he rose with a grace that belied his behemoth size and tucked his sword away.
"Fine. But make it quick, Imp. I have important matters to attend to before the day is done." He seemed resigned for some reason. Tyrion could not understand his melancholy. Within a few short days this man would be joined with one of the most beautiful women in all of Westeros. He should be dancing around Winterfell like a motley wearing fool. It was a far better lot than he would have ever achieved on his own. Tyrion could not help his bitterness as he scowled and led the way with Bronn at his side.
The only sound that accompanied the trio was the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they trudged quietly across the crowded grounds and through the gate. A few of the great houses had already departed after the tourney feast. Many and more were preparing for a long trek while there was a break in the snowfall. Besides the royal family, only a few houses remained; Manderly, Glover, Umber, Karstark, Reed, and Bolton. Why the Flayed Men continued to stay on was something of a mystery, especially after the wayward actions of the Bastard and his boys.
Tyrion's thoughts were disrupted when a sudden snarl arose from behind him. Nervous that one of the direwolves has suddenly decided he would make a nice morsel he whipped around with his hands up. He discovered the sound had come from Clegane, who was now glaring overtop Tyrion's head malevolently. It quickly became clear that he not only knew their honored guest, but he did not appreciate her presence there.
"Easy now," she said around a chuckle. "You know I don't bite, ser."
"I'll have none of your games, Imp," Clegane threatened with a menacing step in his direction. Bronn did not move to protect him as swiftly as he would have liked. He would have to talk to his sellsword about that later. Right now he was worried about being shortening by a head.
"Don't act like this isn't a game we have played before," the soft voice called merrily from over Tyrion's shoulder. He huffed in frustration and shot her a look.
"Ros, sweetling, you are not helping," he chided. She grinned widely.
"You did not pay me to help you, m'lord," she replied with a cunning smile.
"Perhaps you should have," Bronn contributed helpfully. Tyrion ignored them both and focused on the Hound, who was nearly rabid as he took in the scene unfolding before him. He was not the smartest of men, but even could deduce that he had been set up.
"Clegane, allow me to explain before you pound me into the snow." He put his hands up pleadingly, his tone placating.
"Shit on your explanations, dwarf. I have no need of your whore!" he spat.
"You had plenty need of me before, m'lord. If I remember correctly, it was only me you were interested in enjoying," Ros said evenly, raising a brow in challenge.
The unscarred side of Clegane's face flushed slightly as he sneered. Tyrion took advantage of the monstrous mans' distraction and edged out of his reach. The movement brought his keen grey eyes right back to him.
"This is not what you might think. I have not bought her for you. Well, not in the simplest sense," Tyrion tried to explain, but it became obvious the Hound was uninterested. He turned on his heel and began stomping away, growling loudly.
"By all means, flee m'lord. That is if you want to kill your little wife on your wedding night," Ros called out at the massive retreating figure. The Hound froze midstep and turned his head very slowly until he had her trapped in his baleful glare. To her credit, she did not cower. In fact, she smiled widely and winked at him. "Knew that would get your attention."
She strode forward until she was within striking distance. It was not a move Tyrion would have suggested she make, but she did not quell beneath his stony stare. Instead she arched a brow at him.
"Have you ever bedded a maid before?" she asked bluntly. Clegane did not answer, but that seemed to make little difference to Ros. She continued on as if he had. "We are quite delicate in our first encounters. And not just the very first, but in many times thereafter until we are accustomed to your . . ." she looked him up and down before smirking wickedly, "considerable charms."
It was clear that Ros had personal experience with Clegane, a thought which made Tyrion slightly uncomfortable. He, too, had spent time in her company. She was very talented. She would do well in one of the pillow houses in the South. But he did not want to think he had bedded the same woman as the Hound. He shook off the thought.
"Speak plainly, woman," Clegane all but spat.
"No need to be so hostile, m'lord. You were never ungentle with me, but if you were to be so vigorous with your lady wife before she was ready you could do some very serious damage. All I offer you now is the benefit of my wisdom. I can teach you to please her and how to handle such a delicate creature so that she never needs fear your marriage bed," Ros said simply. A strange look crossed her face for a moment as she murmured, "I would think it would be especially difficult for her after what she has suffered."
Clegane's expression cleared and took on a somewhat thoughtful countenance. Scars twitching slightly, he nodded once at her.
"Aye, fine. Tell me what you will."
"As you say, m'lord," she turned to Tyrion, "no extra charge for that. I happen to like the princess of Winterfell. But first, the information you wanted me to impart."
"Yes, if you please." Tyrion was wise enough to know that Clegane would have questions of his own regarding this matter. Ros turned back to the Hound, her face now serious.
"He still seeks her, your wife to be," she said evenly. "The Bastard."
Clegane straightened to his full, impressive height. "You've seen him?"
"Aye. He frequented the brothel before he slunk off into hiding. Truth be told, we were glad to see the back of him. Handsome, no doubt, but he has a cruel streak that none of us could satisfy. He permanently scarred two of our sweetest girls." Her eyes flashed angrily. "Showed up not two nights ago to seek refuge from the storm. I had him run off, but not before he stole away with a week's earnings."
She reached into her cloak and withdrew a crumpled parchment. "Found this in the room he was hiding in."
Tyrion had already examined the document. It was a hand drawn map of the Winterfell. Sansa's bedchamber was marked, as was the clearest path to her windows from the roofline. He watched as Clegane's brow furrowed deeply.
"You should know he was not alone," Ros continued. "Had at least four others with him."
"Flayed men?" Clegane rasped.
She shrugged. "I only saw the cloaks, and none carried banners. No telling who they belonged to really. One of the girls overheard him making plans to steal away with your bride. He seemed especially put out that you were the one who would be taking her to wife. I think you may have injured him during your rescue."
"He never should have lived," the Hound spat angrily, but this time the rage was self-directed. Ros placed a hand on his arm, but there was no pity on her face. In fact, her stormy expression closely matched his.
"A mistake you will not repeat should you see him again."
"Not a fucking chance in the seven hells," he agreed. She nodded once and stepped back.
"Now, let's talk of your lovely wife and how you can keep her lovely." Her mischievous smile was back once more. Tyrion took this as his cue to leave.
"No need to thank me, Clegane. Your gratitude is ever present on your face. Bronn, let us go find something more entertaining to attend to." He waved to his companion as he began walking away from the quiet exchange that began to take place between Ros and the Hound.
"Well, that went better than expected," Bronn muttered as they wandered off towards the Great Hall in search of a warm fire and some spiced wine.
Upon arrival they found much more going on than anticipated. There seemed to be a great dispute that had erupted in their absence. King Robert was bellowing loud enough that his mighty voice echoed off the stone walls and seemed to make the whole foundation shake.
"You have taken leave of your senses, Ned!" He roared.
"Your Grace," Lord Stark said in a much more reasonable tone, but the King was having none of it.
"BAH!" he waved him off. "Fuck your courtesies, Ned! Speak plainly, for the love of the Gods. You want one of my swords to guard your house, fine! Take your pick. The Hound is yours if you want him. But to marry him to your daughter? What in the seven hells are you thinking?"
"I gave the man my word," Eddard responded evenly. He did not seem to be affected by Robert's mighty tantrum. In fact, he was extremely calm and self-assured. Lady Catelyn, on the other hand, looked somewhat embarrassed. He could only imagine what marrying her beautiful daughter off to the large scarred brute of a man was doing to her.
Probably no more or less than if she were to have married you, he thought wryly.
"He asked too fucking much!" the Kind hollered, waving his hands emphatically. "A place in your guard is honoring enough!"
"He saved my life." Her soft voice seemed to echo louder than any of the King's shouts. Sansa appeared from within the crowd and floated up to stand next to her father, a slight smile on her face.
"Your Grace, I am honored you think so highly of me. Truly, you are too kind to me." She gave an elegantly perfect curtsey before raising her utterly beguiling eyes back to the ruddy face of their King.
"I would not be standing here today if not for ser Sandor's bravery and kindness towards me. I owe him everything. There is nothing he could ask of me that I would not willingly give if it was in my power. I will marry him and do so quite happily. No one would dare harm me with such as man to contend with. Please, do not needlessly worry yourself for me. You have many and more important concerns that require your attention, your Grace."
Tyrion grinned fully and shook his head. In a few short sentences she had not only ended the King's tirade, but she had done so in such a flattering manner that the puffed up man's anger seemed to deflate with every word she spoke. She truly had a gift when it came to calming the rage in men.
King Robert regarded her for a moment before shaking his head slightly. He looked to Eddard again and grinned wryly. "She looks nothing like you, but has your bloody honor."
Eddard grinned. "She's got far more of her mother than me, thank the gods."
They continued to speak more conversationally now, but Tyrion's attention was diverted by the clearly disgusted and quietly infuriated gaze being cast by his lovely sister. It was obvious that their brother was trying to placate her with whispered words, but Cersei was having none of it. She seethed silently while glaring daggers at the backs of the Starks. He was so focused on his sweet sister that he nearly missed his devious little nephew slip past him out of the Great Hall.
"Wonder where he's off to in such a hurry?" Bronn muttered around the lip of his mug.
Tyrion frowned. "From the looks if it, somewhere he'd rather not be followed." Now that Clegane wasn't his personal guard, Joffrey had been able to give the other members of the Kingsgaurd the slip whenever they were assigned to him. In the past few days Tyrion had taken note, rather amusedly, as the men in white cloaks searched all over Winterfell for the wayward Prince.
"Should we follow him?" Bronn inquired with a nod at the closing doors.
"No need. Sansa is right in front of us, so she is no danger from him. Let him get into some trouble. Mayhaps he'll accidentally take the black. The wall could use more warm bodies, or so I've been told." Tyrion downed the rest of his spiced wine and grabbed a passing flagon.
"Speaking of that frozen hell, do you really mean to venture to the Wall?" Bronn's disdain for the idea was made clear on his expression.
"Not until after Sansa's wedding. I enjoy a good wedding as much as a good tourney," Tyrion informed him as he continued to gulp down the wine. With any luck he'd be stone drunk by the end of the hour.
"I do not understand your desire to visit a desolate wall of ice inhabited by only men." Bronn shook his head and gulped more wine.
"I want to piss off the edge of the wall. Perhaps some passing wildling will mistake it for rain," Tyrion quipped. In truth, he could not give good reason for visiting the wall other than his desire to see one of the most magnificent structures man had created before his days were done. He was already this far north, what were a few more weeks in the snow and ice?
The doors burst open, allowing a swirl of arctic wind to whistle through the gap as the Hound stomped the snow from his boots. He made eye contact with Tyrion and Bronn as he passed them by, but did no more than grunt in acknowledgment. Bronn snorted into his cup.
Tyrion watched as he carefully approached Ned Stark, who was still speaking with the King, albeit much more jovially than before. He watched as the King's face soured slightly at the large man's intrusion, but whatever words they exchanged must have been of some importance, for Sansa had quickly curtsied and retreated towards the large hearth where Tyrion and Bronn still sat warming themselves. It saved him the trip of requesting her company for the second part of Ros' services.
"Is something amiss?" He inquired as she approached. He knew the truth behind it, especially once the Hound withdrew the parchment Ros had given him. There was no need to frighten Sansa with such information, though. Best to let her future husband take care of her protection.
"I am not sure. I was asked to make the rounds and check on the remaining guests before Sandor could say a word." She looked somewhat put out by that fact, but Tyrion could question her about that later.
"Do you have a warm cloak with you, my lady?" He inquired simply.
"I do. Would you care for a walk, my lord?" She arched a brow at him. She knew of his disdain for the current blustery weather that raged on outside.
"Actually, I have needs to visit your godswood. I wondered if you and your direwolf would accompany me?" He looked around but did not see Lady anywhere.
"She is at the kennels right now. With the gates being kept open we didn't want them to wander off too far. Shaggy is the worst. He once went missing for two whole weeks. Rickon was beside himself with worry." She donned a grey cloak with thick fur and looked at him expectantly. "Whenever you are ready, lord Tyrion."
He downed the remained of his wine and once again pilfered a passing flagon. He was sure Ros would appreciate the gesture for standing outside all this time. As he and Bronn led Sansa towards the giant weirwood he was more nervous than when he had guided Clegane this way.
It is because you fear she will not respect you for this. That she will dislike you after this is done, he thought fretfully. He pushed the ideas aside and continued ahead in similar silence as before. When the cloaked woman came into view he felt his heart pick up its cadence, especially when, like Clegane, Sansa froze midstride. She whipped around to look at Tyrion in confusion.
"Before you shout or throw things at me, let me explain," he pleaded in much gentler voice than he used with the Hound. In truth, he was more afraid of Sansa than he was of Clegane.
"I am listening," she said in a tight voice.
"Ros works in Winter Town," he started to say when Sansa lifted her chin.
"I am well aware of what she does and where she is from, Tyrion," she snapped.
"This one's got bite," Ros commented as she strode closer. As before, she grinned widely. She appeared to be enjoying his discomfort more than she aught, given that it was he who was paying her. "That's good, milady. It will help you keep that new husband of yours to heel."
Sansa turned her cool blue eyes on Ros, giving her a measured stare. There were clear implications to what the other woman had just said, though they were very subtle. Still, Sansa did not miss them. He saw her bristle slightly, but noted that she said nothing. It would not do if she did not at least take to Ros enough to hear her out. Then all was for naught.
"I have asked Ros here to help explain a few things to you, my lady." He shifted nervously from foot to foot. How many times had he jested with her? Thrown bawdy song lyrics her way, exchanged loaded remarks, or plainly sought to illicit a blush with his indecency? This was different, and he knew it. This was him assisting her with something very intimate and personal. Something he would give anything to do himself in a very 'hands on' sort of way. But that was not to be. This would have to be the only lesson he ever gave her in such regards.
"I have had plenty of instruction, thank you," she uttered between clenched teeth. Her fury was something he had never seen before. The flush of her cheeks and the rigidness of her posture spoke volumes.
"From who, milady? Your matronly Septa?" Ros laughed. "Forgive me, sweet girl, but how many men has that shriveled up old maid ever lain with?"
Sansa scowled at the other woman before looking away. He could see her stony countenance beginning to crack. Gods, she is more like the Hound in personality than I had ever given thought to.
"Have you plans for that wine, m'lord?" Ros flounced over and withdrew the flagon before he could offer it. She took a healthy drink before offering it to Sansa with a look of friendly challenge. After a moment Sansa too partook of its contents, but with far more grace. Ros chuckled and tucked her arm through the taller girls'.
"If more ladies were to seek our advice before their weddings – hells, even after their weddings – there would be far fewer lords in our establishments." She laughed as Sansa's cheeks colored deeply and began to walk them towards the giant face tree. When Tyrion made to follow she turned and gave him a pointed look.
"Bugger off now. You're not like to be of any help here, much as you may know of pleasing a woman." She winked suggestively and this time Tyrion flushed. He could not remember the last time he felt embarrassed by a woman and was curious by how much he enjoyed the feeling.
"Come, my lord. Give the ladies time for their confidences," Bronn instructed with a short bow. "Listen to her closely, my lady. She has much knowledge to impart."
Tyrion glanced up at his fearless companion with a look akin to consternation, to which the larger man simply shrugged. "She came highly recommended."
Tyrion sighed loudly as Ros laughed, pulling Sansa farther away from them. As he turned to leave he heard her say, "What would you like to know, milady?"
To which Sansa replied, "Everything you can teach me before the sun goes down."
A/N: So, Ramsay is still lurking around after all. Leave me your thoughts! I love to hear from you :-)