Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou , Nyany4 : I thank you both a lot for taking the time to review and for being so sweet and supportive! (Yes, I made a mistake, I corrected it, thanks a lot!)
Dear Guest: I thank you a lot for reviewing!
I really do not want to give too much away but I can say that the High Sparrow will play an important role...as you might see later^^
As for Varys, well, I like to keep him shady, but everyone has a place in the spider's web, and every piece has its powers and attributes.
This is not going to be an OC story where the OC is suddenly the key to the whole plot, there won't be a long lost prophecy which reveals that only Aliena can save the world from doom and everyone else is pretty much only decoration.
But she has an important part to play, as many others.
Tommen's and Margaery's wedding
Sandor
They had moved his brother to the dungeons under the keep and Sandor no longer had to suffer his screams. He found he missed them, though. They had shown him that Gregor was still alive, after all. Now, there was nothing where his brother once had been. But the rage did not leave, no matter how much he drank, no matter how many green squires he frightened half to death in the yard, no matter how many noses he broke, how hard his blows hit. It was his constant companion and he could not say that it made his life any better. He got up with a burning hole inside him, and went to bed with it. Rage mingled with regret and longing, with sorrow and remorse.
He wanted the past back but there was no going back from the path he had taken. He still felt her eyes on him, full of fear, and then of pain, before she had cast them down. She had looked tired as of late, with dark circles under her eyes than made them look even brighter. Sandor could not fault her. He never looked at her directly, it was too hard to see her. It was my choice, and I have to live with it. His brother was dead or dying. Everytime he felt himself getting softer, he remembered that and his soft feelings vanished like a puddle on a hot summer day. His feelings for her did not vanish, though, they stayed, like a burdock that stuck to his soul.
She looked better for the wedding, dressed in black and gold with patterns of roses and stags. Sandor had feared it would come to this. She wore a necklace of roses, golden roses, and he had heard a servíng girl whispering about it. Apparently, it was a gift from HIghgarden. She would marry the cripple. What did you think? That she would run after you like a rabbit? She was better off without him, that much was plain, and although it made him feel even worse, he hoped that she would find happiness and a home with the cripple. She has a tender spot in her heart for broken things. She had proven that much.
He felt her eyes on her but did not allow himself to look. It was no good. The fury inside him meant that it could never be as it once was, he had chosen her over Gregor and had paid for it. He could not go back, not with what had happened.
The wedding ceremony and feast were nowhere near as imposing as the other one had been and the duckling king was as meek as a lamb. Sandor stood guard with his sworn brothers, wishing he could trade them all for the life of the real brother he loathed so much. I would give everything to bring him back, just so that I can kill him myself or die trying. If it had happened elsewhere, if Gregor had died somewhere on a battlefield...but Sandor had stood and watched, had not taken the opportunity he had been given, and it was something he could not overcome.
The duckling coughed, and for a few heartbeats, the whole hall was in shock and fear. Then, the boy recovered. He had drunk too much too quickly. His wife sat by his side and whispered in the boy's ear while the old queen left the hall half in tears. It was as if it did not concern him at all. He saw her wandering around from one queen to another, like a bee would wander from one flower to the next. From me to the cripple. Who knows who were before me, who knows who'll come next.
She was so beautiful that it hurt. I was so close to her, and now I am so far. He almost laughed. What had he expected? It was her. Because of her I did not fight Gregor. It is for the better. But he found it increasingly hard to convince himself of that when the dancing began. She danced with the middle Tyrell, then with one of the little queen's knights, a tall, clumsy fellow, then with the dashing Bastard of Driftmark, a good-for-nothing if he was anything, with a sly smile and more ambition than loyalty. He looked good with her though, Sandor had to admit grudgingly, she dark haired and he fair. After him came a Kettleback, even worse, but he gave Sandor a moment of cold amusement. He had three long scars on his cheek. Sandor's sworn brother, Balon, who had fawned upon her since the combat, was next. He danced with her as if she was made of blown glass, and he was graceful and elegant on his feet, Sandor admitted. She smiled at him and laughed at his japes but she was not lost with him and her interest was divided. He tries and tries, but she'll never be his. There had been times when he had believed that somehow, she had - This is no good. He forbade himself to think about it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other Kettleback, the white cloaked one, talking to her. Instinctively, he turned his head - and she caught him staring. He looked back at the wall, but she had seen him, had looked him in the eye. He knew the exact colours of her eyes by now, the different shades of green and grey and blue, but he had to forget them. She now was in Kettleback's arms, the man they had made fun of together, a lifetime ago. Who knows with who she made fun of me. It shouldn't sting but it did. Bugger her. Sandor thought. Bugger him and all the other fools. They're welcome to her. She has brought this upon me.
He did not look at her again, only later, when the old Queen set her brother's and father's tower afire did he risk a glance. The flames danced in her eyes, she stood there alone, no man at her side for a change though Sandor saw the looks Swann and the blond bastard were giving her. She doesn't want them, it's the cripple and his army she wants. He remembered her talking about never wanting to marry, how that castle would be hers, and hers alone, how she would never share it with a grasping husband. Her words were not more tangible than this smoke. Soon it would be over and he would perhaps forget that she had existed. She'd be in Highgarden with her fine lordling, wearing green silk and golden roses, and never once wasting a thought on him. I can hardly blame her. Once again, he remembered her expression. It had been dark but he had seen pain as bright as daylight. No. Not this again. Gregor is as good as dead.
~o~
Sandor was on his way from the royal apartments, lost in thought. The corridors were deserted this late at night and torches bathed the stony halls in orange light. He was so lost in thought that he did not hear the footsteps, hasty, quick, soft. He did not notice when they stopped either. What he noticed was that someone stared at him. He looked up - and met her gaze. They had the whole hallway to themselves, fifty feet of grey stone covered in rushes. But they stood no further apart than twelve feet. She wore a nightgown and a bedrobe, he saw, though he did not know this one. He should walk past her, ignore her and be gone. But he couldn't. Their eyes locked, and he could not turn away. Dark waves fell past her waist, feather-soft, he knew, and he could see a hint of red creeping up her cheeks, that reminded him of past nights. He had to say something, but his head was empty. No more than he could think of something to say could he think of something to do. Run, you fool. The sterner voice said, but his feet did not fully obey. He took a step towards her. She took one backwards. She is scared, or she hates me. He realised with pain and shame. He wanted to say something, anything.
"Swan-" he started, not knowing how he would go on.
"Here you are." Meryn Trant's nasal voice sounded oddly full in the empty hallway. "The Lord Commander has need of you, dog." He saw Aliena. "Or are you in need of a guard, lady?" he asked her.
She shook his head after a moment of hesitation and Sandor turned around. His moment of weakness was gone. He could not forget what had happened. Sandor did not look back, the sight of her would have been enough to forget his decision.
~o~
Aliena
Gregor Clegane was dead, or so Cersei would have them believe. There was something oddly pleased about the way she had told everyone and Aliena did not fail to notice how close the chainless maester and the queen had become. He was now her Master of Whisperers and Cersei commented on Varys' inability more than once. And now, you took his spy to bed with you. Taena was the queen's new bosom friend and Qyburn her most trusted advisor.
Aliena, who had known the spider for so long, knew that Qyburn was served only the whispers Varys wanted him to hear. Maybe the new Master of Whisperers fancied himself a spider in his web, too, but it was Varys's web he was in, and he was prey, not predator. Perhaps he didn't care though. He spent most of his time in the dungeons and no man who was still in full command of his senses could stay down there without turning mad. Aliena wondered where Varys was. He could be at the far end of the world, in the East, or he spent his time in a winsink in Flea Bottom, the chances were about the same and no one would recognise him if he did not want to be recognised.
He was good at that. An invisible piece could be used to no one's advantage, he had told her once, perhaps six years ago, and when she had replied that he was a player, not a piece, he had only smiled at her. Oh, but all players are pieces in someone else's game, sweetling. You can be the greatest player in the Seven Kingdoms and some other player will still use you for his own advancement. She had kept that in mind. It was something Lord Baelish had never quite grasped, Varys had told her, but she would, in time.
Now, she was a player, and a piece, and seemingly the only one of her colour left on the board. Balon would leave early the next day for Dorne with Ser Gregor's abnormally large skull.
He came to bid her farewell when the sun was about to set. The days had become too cold for long walks through the gardens, so she received him in her solar.
It was not a teary affair, nor very emotional but Aliena felt empty afterwards.
"Farewell, cousin. Do not let the sand snakes poison you." she smiled. Oberyn's daughters were well known for their venomous fangs.
"I shall not come too close to them." he smiled. No, you have sworn vows. Balon was not happy with his task, neither with the official one nor with the one Cersei had given him in secret. The queen had used Aliena to make sure that Balon did as he was commanded. Bring the princess home, and her little betrothed. On the way, you will be attacked by outlaws who scream the imp's name and you will catch sight of my wretched brother, though no one else will. Cersei meant to murder a child, a boy of thirteen. Thankfully, Prince Doran was too wise to do as the queen asked and his son would live, or so Aliena hoped, not only for the boy but also for Balon's soul. He was the sort of man who would never get over murdering a child. How many children has Sandor killed? And does he still think of them? She thought not.
Balon kissed her hand. "My lady, I am looking forward to my return."
"Oh, so am I." she smiled. "Try to come back in one piece, I shall be very cross if you don't." She kissed him on both cheeks and he left her with two bright red spots on his face.
He was a man grown and restraint, not easily tempted by flesh and he bridled his carnal desires well, but when it came to feelings, all men were green boys. All men but him.
Aliena was alone now. In her solar, in the capital. But not for long. The Faith had chosen their new High Septon and on the morrow, she would go and confess. The sparrows outnumbered the gold cloaks by now and should they ever take up arms, as they reputedly had in the crime-ridden Riverlands, then Alilena would be grateful for the High Septon's friendship. She rang for her maidservant. It was a young girl, not older than her, of plump stature, with freckles on her face and arms and long, carrot curls. Aliena had sent Kenna away, home to her brother with gold. She was not sure how long she herself could stay in the capital and she would not let her former handmaiden suffer. Should she vanish unaccountably, they might even torture Kenna to find out about her whereabouts and it was safer for her in the Stormlands with her family, although she had been angry at her and reluctant to go. She had conceded in the end, and Aliena had seen her off. She was to help her sister in law through childbirth and that was such an ordinary, unappealing reason that no one asked further questions.
"Poppy, I would like to take a bath." Whoever had given the girl her name had had a sense of humour.
She nodded and scurried away to do as she was told. Aliena stretched in the bathwater like a cat and washed her hair, careful not to use too much scented oil.
"Which gown will you wear tomorrow?" The girl asked shily. She liked laying out the clothes for the next day, Aliena knew. Kenna had taken many of her old gowns with her, the ones that were the most extravangant or elegant. What remained were mourning gowns and demure sept dresses, only a few ball gowns.
"The dove grey linen dress with the veil." Simple, demure, modest.
The next morning was bright and clear, but cold and Aliena wore a dark linen cloak over her dress. No Kingsguard accompanied her to the sept, she hated the sight of their white cloaks by now because it always startled her for a heartbeat. Even after a moon's turn, she still hoped it was him that had come to escort her, only to be disappointed every time. A few gold cloaks accompanied her but she left them at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the huge white double-winged door on which the seven pointed star had been painted in brilliant colours.
"I am looking for His High Holiness." she told the guards and they let her in. The great hall was dim, the floor soapy and wet and Aliena almost slipped.
"Careful." A man said and she felt hands close around her arm.
"Forgive me, I was clumsy." she smiled.
"That is nothing that needs forgiveness." The man let go of her arm. He could not look Aliena in the eye, was as thin as a broomhandle, and dressed in a white tunic that went to his ankles. His feet were black and calloused, with even darker toe nails. He had a kind smile but his eyes were hard and his face as lined as a weirwood tree's. This is him. Aliena knew right away. He is not at all like the other ones. I have to lie well to deceive him. Lying well was one of her most redeeming qualities. She remembered Sandor's scorn and mockery. This is not the place.
"I have come to speak to His High Holiness." she said with a distant smile.
"Speak then, daughter of the seven. You find Us right in front of you."
Aliena feigned surprise for a moment. Then delight.
She took the man's dirty, gnarled hands and knelt in front of him as was appropriate. Aliena felt the soapy, dirty water cold on her knees and shins.
"Oh, I am so thankful. I have heard that you were different, but I never thought-" she looked up at him with feigned discomfort.
"The last High Septons were, forgive me, worldy men with very wordly concerns." she whispered.
The man looked at her scrutinisingly. "So I have heard. And seen. Fear not, child, we have chastised all the ungodly men that did not run from the truly devout. What have you come for?" he asked.
"I have come to confess. To confess what I need to confess for a long time, but the previous septons were all bought and paid for, they would have betrayed me and my confession-"
"And the Gods." The man finished. "You need not fear betrayal here as long as your heart is true to the Gods."
He beckoned her to follow him. Confessions were made in the Cell of the Father, a small room off the main sept, with dark veils and doors of carved wood. The confessor was alone with darkness and the Gods here, and the Septon, and he would go back into the light after he had confessed his sins.
The High Septon lit a candle on the small altar.
"What is it that you have to confess, daughter?"
Aliena knelt in front of him and offered him her hands. Every twitch, every tiny reaction he would notice now, that was the way of old.
"I have to confess that I am no longer a maiden." The words rang loud in the tiny room.
"That is a grievous sin." The man said. "How has it come to it? Women are wicked creatures, more fragile than men. Was your flesh weak or your spirit?"
"Both, I fear. It was the king, High Holiness, King Joffrey, may the Father judge him justly and welcome him into his High Hall. He always said he loved me, he always promised he would marry me. I found no sin in loving him chastely, for he was my cousin and I grew up with him. He wanted me to kiss him, and I did. A lady has to obey, and I thought he would marry me." The tears came, dropped on her hands cold and sticky with salt. Good.
"Many women have failed so." The septon said, "Go on, child. The Gods are listening."
I wonder who else is listening.
"He wanted to bed me and said so again and again, but I refuse him. My maidenhead, HIgh Holiness, my purity. I loved him much but not enough to give that up what was holy to me. I confess that I tried to content him with kisses, and that I lied to him about my moon's blood to keep him from my bed." A sob. "But one night, he -he came to my r-room-" She stopped abruptly, and true tears rolled down her cheeks now.
The holy man squeezed her hands.
"You have been brave to confess, girl, but the Gods want the full truth."
"He, he c-came...and I, I was in my night clothes, with my hair loose and my, my shoulders naked, and he c-came-" She sobbed again, could not say whether it was a true one or not.
"He said that he had, he had waited l-long enough, and that he was to-to marry someone else, some-someone prettier, but that he could still-still have me, because kings could have whores. I said I wouldn't, I begged him, but he had his guard drag me to his chambers...I screamed and shouted for help but the world was deaf to my cries. And his knight guarded the door while the king - while Joffrey-"
The High Septon squeezed her hands again.
"I know, girl." he said, not unkindly. "Why did you not tell the queen?" This was thin ice.
"I wanted to, but the king said I shouldn't, he said that he would have me again...he said that if I told anyone, he'd have my head. I loved him once, High Holiness, but I confess that afterwards I hated him. Oh, Gods, I confess that I was not as sad when he died as I should have. I prayed for him but not as I should have. Oh, High Holiness, how can I ever atone for my sins?"
The septon let go of her hands.
"Your sins are grievous, child." he said. "The king took your innocence, that might be so, but women often tempt men into carnal thoughts. Think, have you given him reason to desire you?" Ah, so it's the woman's fault when she is raped for she had tempted her rapist. How wonderfully easy.
"I might have, High Holiness." she said in a low voice.
"It is not your fault alone, girl, and no weakness of the flesh or the spirit was involved, so you need not take the walk of atonement. But are guilty of other sins. You have been foolish and vain, and you did not follow the words of the Seven." Why, where does it tell me how to deal with a cruel, malicious bastard that is your king? I must have overlooked that passage.
"You have confessed. Now, you shall pray. Pray to the Maiden for purity of the mind, to the Mother for mercy, to the Father for forgiveness. Ask the Warrior for Courage and the Smith to put your hand and feet to good work. Ask the Crone to give you wisdom."
"I shall, High Holiness." She kissed his dirty hands. I kissed worse, I kissed Joffrey.
"You can atone for your sins by relieving others of theirs. Tell me, child, are there sinners in the keep. Speak the truth, and the Gods will forgive you your sins."
"Which sins, High Holiness? The Seven teach us that we shall not point at our brothers' and sisters' sins, for we are no better." Aliena replied, in a confused tone.
"Indeed, you are right. But you shall not point at them, you will confess for them. A deed of charity and love. Do it now, child, or do you not wish to atone this way?" They have cells, small and cold, here, and whips and chains as well. No, that was not what she had come for.
She bowed. "And then, the Gods might forgive me?" she asked, breathlessly.
"The Gods are merciful." said the High Septon, which was neither yes nor no. He is clever, this one.
"The court is full of sinfulness and fornications, High Holiness, I am ashamed to admit it."
"And the Queen?" he asked. Straight to the point, that one.
"Which queen? The young one or the old?"
"Both. The Gods want to hear the full truth from you, child." Aliena wanted to shout at him that he should stop calling her 'child', but he liked meek obedience better.
"I know nothing of Queen Cersei, High Holiness, though I know the old king rarely shared her bed, and it grieved her terribly. Queen Margaery is as sweet and innocent a maiden as I ever knew."
Tears streamed down her face again. "I shall never visit a sept again on Maiden's Day."
"No, girl, you shall not. You were a maid but had a woman's wickedness. Surely, you have seen that it did not serve you well?"
"Yes, High Holiness, I shall strive never to be wicked again."
"There are rumours about the Queen Cersei and her brother, an anointed knight of the Kingsguard…"
"False rumours spread by mine own uncle, it shames me greatly. There is no truth in it, I asked the Queen myself."
The High Septon was not content, but he beckoned her to rise.
"You have done well to confess your sins. You have done well to tell Us, sweet girl. The Gods are with you, and they shall forgive you. Trust in Us, and tell Us when something troubles you."You want your own little spy in the Red Keep.
"Is that allowed, High Holiness?" she asked, with doubts in her eyes.
"We are the High Holiness, and we were chosen by the Gods." By sparrows, more like.
"You will tell Us when you hear of sins?"
"I shall." she promised.
"We heard good things about you, my lady. You are charitable and care for the poor, give alms and bread to beggars and sold your dresses not a week past and gave the coin to those less fortunate."
"I have been inspired by you, High Holiness. I wish to please the Gods further, and I shall lead a godly life. But how can I ever marry?" Tears welled up in her eyes again and she noticed a hint of annoyance in the man's eyes. Good, he'll throw me out soon enough.
"A true man will see that you had no part in your cousin's crime, a good man shall forgive you the wickedness that women are known for. Fear not, child, the Gods will be good to you … if you do your duty."
"I shall, High Holiness...though I find it a trying task."
"You will grow with it, I am sure. I vow, we will purge this city of everything that is unlawful, ungodly, and sinful." Why, you mean to live in an empty city?
"You have my support, High Holiness, in everything you do. I am thankful that the Gods have heard my prayers and the devout have moved into the sept once again. I look forward to a new era, a time of piety and peace."
The High Septon patted her hand. "Oh, so do we, my lady, so do we."
Two Septas came.
"Follow us, my lady." They each took hold of one arm and led her down a long, narrow corridor that twisted through a restrictive dimness. Fear awoke in her chest, grabbed her lungs and made it hard to breathe.
He did not fall for my mummery, he saw through it, I am not as good as I once was. Where would they bring her? They were not allowed to keep her but the sparrows outside were not like to free her and the gold cloaks were not enough. She started to pray, properly this time..
But then, she saw a high, narrow door she knew well. It led out to the back of the Sept, where the poor often waited for alms and food.
And indeed, the septas led her out of that door, down the steep narrow stone stairs that were soiled and stank.
The smallfolk cheered for her as they recognised her. A paper shield, but better than no shield at all. She was still popular and the High Septon would have the sense to see that, hopefully.
"The Gods' delight!" one shouted, as he saw her flanked by two septas, and others took up the cry. She gave out all the coin she had, and left Visenya's hill before evenfall, not at all content and feeling rather hopeless.
He is a dangerous man when given power, and all these sparrows here make me nervous. Cersei gave them not a single thought though. Golden-haired, empty headed fool. Aliena thought. No, Cersei would doom them all. I have to make him my friend. She had to deliver him sinners, while protecting those that were important. No harm may come to Margaery or Tommen. Nor to Cersei, as much as she has sinned, she is needed. There were some who the Faith could have though. The HIgh Septon had no power yet, but the sparrows outnumbered the gold cloaks by far, and the citywatch was of fickle loyalty at best. They can have Boros Blount, for all I care, make him a novice or a begging brother. She knew that no one would go after him, no one would miss the man. They may never get their hands on Sandor, he is a sinner if there ever was one, and he will tell them the truth upright and proud. No, that could never happen. It would be his end.
~o~
"You did what?" Aliena was speechless. "Your Grace." she added, quickly and toneless.
Cersei looked at her, disappointed. "You have lost much your wits, Aliena, I must confess, I am disappointed. Lady Taena saw the sheer elegance of it right away." Of course she did, she is the spider's creature. "Ever since you changed your garb, you seem to me more septa than lady. You were once my good daughter in everything by name." Now, you're not anymore. Cersei left it unsaid.
"You allowed the Faith to take up arms?"
"Are you as slow as your uncle? Yes. They shall rid us of all the scum, don't you see?" You mean they will rid you of Margaery.
"Indeed, now I see it. A very clever plan."
Cersei gave her an approving nod.
"They will purge this city of sinners and leave the streets clean and orderly."
And they will leave the Red Keep empty. She was once again shocked about Cersei's lack of judgement. She might have doomed herself with that act of foolishness but you would never guess it from the way she talked.She thinks she is cleverer than all kings before her.
"What does Ser Jaime say to this, Your Grace?" Aliena inquired. The Queen's twin seemed to have gained some wits during his time in the RIverlands, and even better, he had acquired judgement.
Cersei frowned again. "Jaime is as changed as you are. One could think all my friends have taken leave of their wits while my enemies are getting stronger every day." Which enemy? The one when you take a look in the mirror? Or the shadows on the wall in which you see Tyrion?
"Will you send Ser Jaime to Riverrun?" Aliena asked. It was folly, to send a one-handed man away but the Lord Commander had not even put on a fight and Aliena suspected he was relieved to get away.
"I will. He said he would leave Ser Loras in charge to spite me, but I will have Ser Osmund, never will a Tyrell command the Kingsguard."
"The Hound would make a better commander than Ser Osmund or Ser Loras." The words were out, but they were true as well, so she did not try to take them back. Cersei gave her a long look.
"He frightens Tommen even more now. I made him his master of arms, but he never wants to learn how to fight now." There was a satisfied grin on her face. She fancied herself clever. Tommen would only turn out to be as inept with a sword as Joffrey was.
"That was wise of you, Your Grace." Sandor must have hated it. He did not have the patience to be a teacher, and he despised weakness, and Tommen was neither quick nor strong, although Aliena remembered that he did have courage, at least a hint of it. He is better than Joff, but that counts for little and less.
"You can go now, Aliena. Unless you want to join me and Taena for dinner."
It had been a trade almost: Cersei had taken the Myrish snake as her companion and Aliena had gone over to Margaery. She did not mind much, the young queen kept a merry court and she was kind and clever and she had even stopped asking when she would finally go to Highgarden.
"Lady Margaery has asked me to join her for a game of cyvasse, Your Grace." Aliena smiled but Cersei gave her a sharp look.
"You remember, I hope, who raised you?"
Aliena looked her right in the eye.
"I shall never forget everything you did for me. You are my aunt, my family, and I am deeply indebted to you."
Cersei liked that well enough. "Go. And tell me how my good daughter fares."
~o~
Sandor
The Lord Commander held him back that morning after they had all broken their fast together.
"Her Grace wants you to become the king's master at arms. She wishes that you practise with him in the yard an hour every day. No harm shall come to him and if she finds bruises, she will have your head." He said, in a monotone voice. He did not approve. Sandor knew as everyone else, about the two of them. He had worshipped her once, had been hers entirely. Now, it seemed, he was no longer the cocksure arrogant bastard, and his sister's hold on him was weak. He has changed in the RIverlands. He is no longer a boy to toy with, he is a man and the old queen likes that not, I bet.
"The boy's scared of me." Sandor said.
" 'The boy' is your king." Jaime corrected him. "And my sister thinks fear might be a good teacher."
Sandor knew that the queen thought so. He shrugged.
"I'll show him how to swing a sword then but I can't teach him how to fight without beating him black and blue. All green boys are when they learn, you know that."
The Lord Commander grinned.
"I do, aye. But I wish you good luck telling my lovely sister that. As ugly as your head it, I'd prefer it if you kept it. Show him how to hold a sword and let him hack a straw dummy to pieces. Our king will like that well enough."
Sandor did not care much. He shrugged again. "Aye."
The Lord Commander was not done though. He looked around, making sure no one was left. Then he said, more quietly.
"Meet me on the old tourney ground at evenfall. I need to practise that wretched new sword hand of mine." He shook his left arm. "If you say a word, only a single word, you'll wish my sister caught you hitting Tommen."
His threat did not impress Sandor much, Jaime Lannister had maybe been his match with two hands. But with one? The king had better chances, he thought. One hand was not as good as the other, no matter how many frauds claimed they could fight well with both. The Lord Commander was fucked, in truth, and tonight, he'd see that.
"I'll be there." he rasped and left the Kingslayer alone in the circular room.
The evening came, the sun left, and Sandor strode over to the tourney grounds from the Lion's Gate.
The Lord Commander waited for him, neither of them wore their white cloaks. Tourney swords with blunted edges lay in the dewy grass at his feet, and two plain shields of oak wood and iron.
They began without many words. Sandor fought with half his strength if at all, but the disaster was plain enough. Even Blount would stand a chance against the Commander now. He was slow, and often aimed at the wrong side, his parries were sloppy and Sandor had disarmed him more often than he could count. Time and time again, the golden shock of hair almost touched the greying green grass as the sunlight faded when he had to bend and pick up the sword he had lost.
Jaime ended their depressing practise with a smile full of feigned confidence.
Jaime
"I will practise every night and my left hand might of some use one day." Jaime said with an optimism he did not feel.
"You have better chances regrowing that hand." Sandor rasped, unsympathetically but not unkindly.
"I could kill you for that." Jaime said, rage ringing in his ears.
"You'd be one hand poorer." Sandor turned away.
"Ser Ilyn might want to see to that."
"Cut out the tongue that speaks the truth and you'll hear only lies." Sandor grunted as he looked him in the eye. "Is that what you want?"
Jaime sheathed his sword. "No one may ever know." he said, trying to ban the pleading tone from his voice.
"No one will ever hear it from me." He could not see Sandor's face in the darkness that had slowly crept up on them, which was perhaps not so bad. "But you'll have to fight one day. And then, they'll see." He served him the truth brutally in a flat rasping voice.
Desperation took hold of Jaime. "And what can I do?" he asked into the darkness. "It's the only thing I had. It's the only thing I wanted." Life's not fair, he almost said, but remembered the Hound's burns and brother just in time. I am a whimpering weenie.
Slowly, Sandor turned around. Looked him in the eye for a long time.
"Aye." he said and Jaime understood. Oberyn had taken the same thing from him. But he still had a hand to take revenge.
"There's more you had than your hand." His dark rasp was loud in the silence of the deserted tourney grounds. "You still have that now. But it won't do you any good here."
He picked up the blunted swords and shield.
"I have to go now." he said, curtly. "There's something I need to do."
And he left Jaime alone with darkness and a useless sword. His words had truth in them, though. I am no longer a proper knight. I am no use here in the Kingsguard. But I am an able commander. I can lead, although I cannot fight. It was not what he wanted, it had never been his dream, to lead an army, but it was something and it was something he could be good at if he tried. Father was more commander than warrior. It seemed ironic that now, after Tywin's death, he discovered something they had in common. He would go, leave for Riverrun. There was a siege to plan and lead and his life had not ended with his mutilation. With long strides did he walk back to the city and hoped that no outlaw gang would block his way. He'd be doomed if they had more than one hand.
~o~
Sandor
He had more in his life than his brother. He had been so blinded by rage, so absolutely foolish. She would not have him anymore, of that he was certain, but he should be doomed if he didn't at least try. He strode back to the city with her on his mind, and the guards opened the gate for him without comment. It was full dark by now but torches lit the way. His boots made squishy sounds on the wet soil, and his thoughts were far away, high on Aegon's Hill. He had thought Jaime ungrateful for not seeing anything but his stump while he himself had seen nothing but Gregor's death. It was never her fault. She wanted to protect me. She had. There were rumours now, rumours that seemed to come from nowhere, that Gregor was not dead, that the skull that had been sent to Dorne was not his. Whether he is dead or not, he will not steal her from me. That was, if he himself had not ruined everything. He had to try, he had to go back to her. Sandor longed to see her face, her smile, longed for the mockery as much as for the anger that would await him. Hopefully she will speak to me. He could not fault her if she didn't want to, but in the corridor, not a week past, even though she had taken a step back, there had been feeling in her eyes, not ice. He was so lost in thoughts that he never heard the footsteps.
"Sandor Clegane, in the name of the Faith, we arrest you for fornication, heresy and murder." It was a thin voice but this part of the city was quiet and the voice was enough to rouse him from his thoughts.
Suddenly, Sandor found himself surrounded by men armed in mismatched armour, the seven pointed star over their hearts, swords, spears and crossbows in their hands.
"Bugger off, you lot, and I won't kill you." he rasped but they did not move.
"Oh fuck you." He had no time and no patience for this sorry lot, now that he had made his decision.
Sandor drew his sword and let them come. He hacked at them savagely, impatient to rid himself of these begging brothers but more and more appeared, stepping out of the darkness. He wore only breastplate and mail and many of their blades bit into his flesh. Someone knocked him on the head and he felt dizzy, the night around him faded to even deeper darkness. The last thing on his mind was the bitter irony of it. She would never know.