Disclaimer: All of this belongs to George R: R. Martin, apart from Aliena. Especially the quote I stole from the Elder Brother to give it to the High Sparrow.
Dear Guest: Yes, this is kind of what I want her to be like, Machiavellian but not dangerous or overly ambitious. (cough, I'm looking at you, Petyr, cough)
Nyany4: Thanks a lot for taking the time to review after every chapter! I apologise whole-heartedly for my cruelty. ;) I promise, I have prepared some fluff, just for you (not in this chapter, I fear, but in the next!)
Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thank you for your reviews, honestly! Here it comes!
TheOneKrafter: Thank you a lot for reviewing! I honestly wish I had included that "sharpen your silver tongue" in this! Your review could have basically been a cryptic warning from Varys :D
I also apologise for my lengthy author's notes, but I explicitly ask for reviews so I'd think it disrespectful not to reply to those that have been kind enough to do so.
King's Landing, the second moon of the year 300AC
Aliena
They sky outside was bleak grey, the rain streamed down her windows and Aliena did not know whether the sun had risen yet or not. Autumn bid them all farewell and the rain was the tears the Gods wept, Aliena had heard the servants say. Her own tears could have matched those of Gods', but she forced herself to hold them back. What good would it do her?
Her hearth had grown cold overnight and she almost cursed. The new girl was not half as mindful as Kenna, and untrustworthy as well.
She pulled on her heavy velvet bedrobe, not in the mood to build a fire, and huddled in the chair by the window, looking out at the rivers that streamed down her lead glass window, watching the sparse light dancing on the steel grey sea. As grey as his eyes. Not mine. Even though she tried hard to forget him, the way he had looked at her, she couldn't. Most mornings she woke up full of bliss until she realised it had been a dream. Aliena would have appreciated nightmares more, at least she would not have to deal with the grave disappointment every day. She could not even take a potion to sleep better, Pycelle would only mumble and stumble if she asked him for a potion to give her nightmares, or better, no dreams at all.
There was a knock on the door, so faint that she almost overheard it because of the prattling rain.
It was a serving girl, young, perhaps twelve.
She did not speak and Aliena knew that she was a little bird. But whose?
"What is it, sweetling?" she asked, and the girl gave her a note, a scribble.
"Your pet has been captured, and it might be put down for its bad behaviour. May the Seven judge it justly."
Aliena did not know the handwriting but its meaning was clear.
"You can go, thank you." she said to the girl, and she hurried away.
Slowly, Aliena read the note again. Then she held the paper to a candle flame and waited until nothing remained of it but curling ashes.
It was the worst thing that could have happened. He would confess, he was not one to be sly and lie. And the punishment for murder was… He did not care for her anymore, but she did care for him, more than for anyone, and she would save him, would have to save him.
She dressed as quickly as she could, in the linen and wool she wore these days, and hurried over to the Queen's chambers.
Cersei was not alone, the Myrish woman was with her, but Aliena did not care. She should know, she should tell Varys, what did it all matter now?
"Your Grace!" She knew that her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in disarray. Cersei did not look pleased.
"What in the name of all Seven-" the queen started but Aliena interrupted her.
"The Faith has taken Sandor Clegane into custody." She noticed too late that she should have called him 'Hound'. Cersei looked confused for one moment, then irritated.
"With which reasons?"
"I do not know, but I suppose they call him a murder and a heretic." The Gods knew, he had named his horse Stranger.
Cersei frowned.
"Well, he is." she admitted. No. She had the real monster of House Clegane in her dungeon, what did she care for the little brother.
"He is a man of the Kingsguard, Your Grace." Aliena reminded her. "This is an attack on the king's authority, and on yours as well, Your Grace." That would hopefully rouse the lioness.
If not...Some tears seemed in order.
"He… Joff, he always looked up to him, the Hound was like a second father-" More like a big toy soldier. "Joffrey cared for him - and if we let the Faith- " her voice broke away. Cersei's expression had changed.
"You are right. Go and tell the High Septon that I do not allow such ungrounded arrest." Oh, why, that will convince him no doubt.
"I shall." Aliena dried her tears. "Forgive my outburst, please. I just cannot -" Cersei put a hand on her arm.
"He loved you just as dearly, sweetling." He? She was confused for a moment. She means Joffrey, not Sandor.
"I - I know." A forced smile. That was why he loved to hurt me so.
She apologised for her behaviour again, mumbled something about Joffrey, and left the queen to her new companion.
Quickly, she hid her hair in a snood of grey silk, scribbled a note, took her dark cloak and two guards and had her horse saddled.
She would go to him, whether he wanted to see her or not. Aliena knew it was folly, knew that she might never leave the sept again, but if that was the price she had to pay, she would.
"I have come to speak to His High Holiness." she told the armed guards, and they let her in, but not her gold cloaks. What does it matter?
"You are early." The septon said. Has he expected me? What does he mean? Did someone talk? Sandor would not have said anything...but perhaps they had not been so cautious?
"But you come just in time for the morning prayer." he said. I should not be so nervous. He knows nothing.
Aliena knelt down next to him and mumbled the words with the fervour that she felt. But while her lips spoke those words, there were others on her mind.
"Father, guide us today and lead us not into temptation. Protect us from evil and give us the strength to fight it." That last part was new.
Father, protect him and give him strength. Show me the way. Protect him, do it, or I shall give up serving you.
She prayed to all Seven, for all the good it would do him.
She knelt down in front of the altar of the Stranger. No words were said for him, but she thought if anyone would help Sandor, it would be this one.
Do not take him with you. Bar the gates to him, and sent him back. He named his horse for you, the only thing he loves.
Her prayers were too weak to sway a willow, but her acts would.
She broke her fast with the High Septon on hard bread and stale water, as they talked about the purge, as he called it.
"I heard you took the Hound into custody, too." Aliena said, careful now not to use his name.
"I prefer to call him by the name his father chose for him. Sandor. No man should hide behind a helmet and a moniker, and no man can before the Gods."
"Sandor Clegane, then. He is guilty of terrible sins, I am certain."
"My brothers found him when he was on his way back from some whorehouse."
It was as if he had punched her in the stomach with a leaden fist. A whorehouse. He had forgotten her. That was hard enough to swallow. But she would not let him down, even if he had, she had not forgotten him.
"He is the most ungodly man I have ever met and his sins are countless." The High Septon continued in a grave tone. "He is guilty of blasphemy and heresy, fornication, gambling, and murder." He is godless and a gambler and killed men and visited whores, more than I care to know.
"Surely he is guilty. He was Joffrey sworn shield though, and protected me from my cousin's wrath more often than I can to count."
"One good act can not cancel out the bad ones. As we sin, so do we suffer." What have you done to him?!
"Of course." she forced herself to smile. "I would just like to see him. Gratitude is a woman's virtue."
"So it is." The High Septon rose from his chair.
"All I want is to thank him but also advise him to put his fate in the hands of the Gods. He is a stubborn man, and often blinded by fury."
"I have never seen a man so full of rage." The old man said as they walked down the narrow corridor together. "He serves, but finds no pride in service. He fights, but takes no joy in victory. He drinks, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He does not love, nor is he loved himself."
You are wrong, you hypocritical, canting, cruel fool. I do. All this was Cersei's fault and her own, for she had underestimated the danger once again. I am his worst curse, not his brother. She would free him, not only because she did not want to live without him, but also because she owed him. It is good that I did not have the strength to leave without him, or he would die now. Aliena knew no one else would try to save him.
His cell was at the end of a dark narrow corridor, the door old oak and iron bars.
The High Septon pushed it open. And closed it behind her, but she never noticed.
They were watched, of that she was aware.
Sandor lay on a straw pallet dressed in a roughspun shift that was red and brown with blood. What have they done to you? It took her every grain of strength to restrain herself from falling on her knees beside him and kiss him, and hug him, and caress the broken skin.
He turned around when he heard her and she almost gasped in shock. One eye was so swollen that he could not open it, there was a bleeding wound on his forehead, on the burnt side, dried blood crusted his lip and nose as well. But the other eye, it saw, and it was overjoyed.
"Forgive -" His voice was hoarse and no more than a whisper. They have not given him water.
"I have nothing to forgive you, Clegane." That should wake him up.
"Don't-" he said, and she understood. He thought she hated him. She dared to shake her head, only faintly, and tried to put everything she felt into her gaze.
"Only the Gods can forgive you your sins." she said now. "But I have come to express my gratitude, as I should have long ago. You protected me from my cousin's wrath, you saved me."
So many times. She held out her hand, to bless him as she had blessed smallfolk and begging brothers.
He had understood now and pushed himself to a kneeling position, took her hand. For once, his fingers were cold, but she still relished the little skin contact. She hoped and prayed that he would feel the parchment, that whatever they had done to him had not blunted his wits.
"Nothing to be grateful for, lady." His voice was still weak but he stressed that word. "I did not do it for you."
Perhaps she was wrong to see a double meaning in it but it almost seemed to her as if he wanted to say that it was not her fault that he had missed his chance to kill his brother.
She let go of his hand slowly, felt the parchment leave her hand.
"May the Seven judge you justly. The Gods have their eyes on you." You are watched, do not read it openly.
He nodded to that. He understood.
"Aye, they won't like what they see."
He was incorrigible, even in shackles, and she wanted to kiss him for that but instead, she turned around and left without another look.
His High Holiness stood outside.
"He is unyielding." That he is, she thought with a touch of pride.
"I heard so. But surely, there will be a just trial?" It was in the book of the Seven, this man could not deny Sandor a trial.
"Should he ask for one, yes."
Aliena had made sure that he would.
"I am certain that all you want is justice." She said, softly. "He has always angered me, I admit it, but we are not to contemn a man. Not even you, High Holiness, may judge a man. This power lies only in the seven that are one."
The High Septon stopped walking abruptly to look at her with scrutinising eyes.
Slowly, he nodded. "So shall it be. It is good of you to remind me." He started walking again, slowly, still look at her. What do you see, old man? "I admit, he angers me … but the Seven shall judge him." He folded his hands piously.
"I suppose he will choose trial by combat. He is wounded, I saw." Aliena replied, biting back harsher words. What did you do to him?
"He refused to go with my brothers peacefully, so they had to use force. He has slain seven good servants of the Gods." She felt a twinge of satisfaction and was ashamed of it at the same time. Those green boys had not deserved to die.
"I understand."
"And when he refused to pray, he was whipped."
Whipped? Fury coiled in her stomach. This man...Calm down. Thoughts of revenge will not help Sandor.
"That was ill done." she said.
"I seldom feel as close to my Gods as when I am in pain." The old man insisted.
"It is your duty to see to it that he is in a state to defend himself, High Holiness. The book of the Seven states that justice shall be done and no side may be favoured. I will send a maester to see to his wounds." she said. "I thought it was justice you had in mind, High Holiness, and not revenge."
She looked the man straight in the eye now. And to her surprise, he nodded after a moment of hesitation.
"We have walked down the street of anger. You are right to remind Us, my lady." Aliena did not fail to notice that he spoke as the High Septon again, not only as a man. His words were binding. "Send your maester. Sandor Clegane is a child of the Seven. He has confessed his crimes honestly. It is not for Us to punish him. He shall be judged justly for his sins but not by Us."
"So it shall be." Aliena knelt down to kiss his hands. "You will bring justice again, I know you will. Our kings have failed us but the Faith Militant shall do what the kings could not. As long as they are not misled by worldly desires."
Again, he nodded. "We shall not use our holy cause to exert revenge. We shall not presume to act in the name of the Gods. You have Our word."
Aliena rose to her feet.
"I am thankful, High Holiness, that you have come to bring justice to this godless place. I will visit you again on the morrow, if I may?"
"I will wash the feet of the sick and old." Oh Gods be good. But she could not refuse.
"I will join you. And bring as much bread as I can get. The poor still go hungry." Her drop of dragon blood had protected her from sickness so far. She prayed that it would protect her tomorrow as well.
~o~
Cersei
Cersei was more than pleased. Yes, Osney would sing his sweet song and the Blue Bard would be more than willing to sing his. The dungeons changed a man, the queen found. And to the better. It had been a brilliant notion to allow the Faith to take up arms and once again, she applauded herself. Do you see it now, Father? I am the son you thought you never had.
Wherever Tywin Lannister was, he looked at her with pride now, certainly. Indeed, the business with the Hound was quite unfortunate but Cersei was not in the mood to look for a fly in her broth. He is a sinner, and Tommen is scared of him. He was the best fighter she had left, now that Jaime had lost his hand and Gregor his life, but Qyburn was working on the latter. He was only the puppy and I will have the true beast. It was quite sad for Aliena, the poor thing, she had been in tears. The man had been Joffrey's shield, almost a father. But a queen had to make some concessions, she would understand.
Of course, Cersei could not tell the girl that she cared nothing for the Hound, none of that would reach Aliena. Cersei would allow her to try everything in her power to save the man Joffrey had cared for, and when he was dead, she would hopefully see that Cersei was everything she had left. Joff's death had left the girl changed, but she had been more spirited this morning, full of anger, and Cersei saw the girl again that she had thought as good as her own. It is her love for Joff. A sorry affair and she wished it could have been avoided but Aliena would overcome the Hound's death. Perhaps, she would take a liking to Tommen in time, and then, she could take Maid Margaery's place. A pliable bride she would be, and she would never try to usurp Cersei's crown. Yes, that is very elegant. Who could object? She is Robert's image, as far as a pretty maid can be, and the roses like her well. Perhaps Cersei would have to promise that the king's daughters would all marry Tyrells, or his sons blushing pretty roses, but that was ages hence. She spun around in her gown of golden satin, so delighted was she over the course of events. This is my work, all of it. I have the wits to do what Robert could never do, I have the courage to do what my father could never do. She was better than the both of them and it gave her a grim satisfaction.
She called for her Lord Whisperer to hear how things were going. Perhaps she would have dinner with Aliena tonight, to share her grief, and then take Taena to bed with her. The Myrish woman and her little niece would get on well, for sure.
"Your Grace." Qyburn was his grey old self and bowed respectfully. This is what I was born for.
"Qyburn." she said, and because she felt especially generous today, she corrected herself: "Maester Qyburn, what tidings do you bring me? Has Aliena gone to the sept yet? And has she come back out?"
She did not doubt it, apart from that one sorry affair with Joff, she was as pure as the untouched snow beyond the Wall.
"She has entered the sept, my lady, but she is still praying with the High Septon."
"It is good of her to care so for a man no one loves." Cersei allowed. "She does it all for Joff, of course. She has not learnt yet to accept his tragic death I fear, and will not until Tyrion is dead." Perhaps she should use that as a motivation. Men would look for the imp twice as hard if they could hope to win not only the gratitude of a queen but also the love of a blushing maiden.
"I heard a different song, Your Grace, pray forgive me. A little bird told me that not a moon past, after your son's most tragic death, she was seen kissing the man they call the Hound in an alley in Flea Bottom."
That was so ridiculous that Cersei laughed out loud. Aliena and the Hound. The rabble was creative, she had to admit. She did not ask how much Qyburn paid his little whisperers, but it was too much.
"You do not know her well at all, Qyburn. And you never saw her with Joff. They were devoted to each other, even after he was betrothed to Maid Margaery. Aliena is a pretty thing, though not half as comely as the Tyrell girl. But she has a certain effect on men, always had. And Joffrey fell for that as well. He did not want his rose bride, said he would marry Aliena, and only her. She, on the other hand, refused to marry at all as not to be a hindrance to the king's wedding that bought him the important allegiance of the Tyrells. She is devoted to Joffrey still.
The Hound is more beast than man and he might dream of bedding her but he is not capable of more. I am sure, he would take her gladly in some dirty alley but Aliena would never. The man is brutal and cruel, and he is as terrifying as he is ugly. Joffrey was fair of face and hair, tall and slim, the man of her dreams."
Though he could be brutal and cruel as well.
"Forgive me then, Your Grace." Qyburn said, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.
"More likely is that your little bird saw the Hound with some whore. No doubt Robert spent his seed in half the whores of King's Landing, so many of the younger ones will have his dark hair and light eyes. And the Hound is no stranger to the dirty whorehouses of Flea Bottom, I'd wager. With those hideous scars of his…"
"That is an explanation, Your Grace. My little informer will have to learn what happens to those that spread false rumours."
He gave her a soft smile and Cersei decided not to dwell on it. This was too beautiful a day to think about the things Qyburn did down in the dungeons.
"You can go." she dismissed him. "Aliena shall be sent to my rooms as soon as she is back, I will dine with Lady Merryweather."
"As you wish, Your Grace." And the short man bowed and retreated with soft steps.
Aliena and the Hound. Cersei chuckled. Jaime's more likely to regrow a hand.
She had half a mind to tell her later but she would surely be offended and sad again. Aliena had been troubled these past weeks but surely, in time, she would overcome Joffrey. She is no real lioness. Strong, fierce, loyal. But no true Lannister. Only Cersei was, the last lion of the Rock. And they will hear me roar.
~o~
Sandor
When he heard her voice, he had first taken it for some fever dream. In a dream, she would not be dressed like this though, as pious and demure as a septa. He saw the shock on her face when she saw his. His left eye was swollen and throbbing, but he saw her clear enough. Her hair was bound up in a little bag of silk, most of it covered, and the colour of her gown made her look pale. No, this was no fever dream for sure. The door closed behind her and for a moment he feared that she had been arrested, too. But what for? She is as innocent as a septa.
He needed to use this chance that had been granted him to tell her what he had wanted to tell her. This chance I won't miss. His throat was dry, they had not given him anything to drink, but he tried nevertheless.
"Forgive-" he croaked but she interrupted him rudely.
"I have nothing to forgive you, Clegane." Her voice was as cool as the water of the Blackwater these days, even and betrayed no hint of affection. I have lost her. Perhaps she has come to mock me or perhaps she has come to witness my shame. He was battered and bleeding and in pain, but it had been forgotten when she had walked in. Now, he became more self-conscious. He wore only this bloody shift, there was the stubble of a beard on one cheek and his chin and he must smell. But she was so close and perhaps this was his only chance..
"Don't." he pleaded, desperate. Now, he saw understanding flicker across her pale, beautiful face, then the faintest of smiles, soft, sweet. Her gaze was intense.
"Only the Gods can forgive you your sins." she said now. "But I have come to express my gratitude, as I should have long ago. You protected me from my cousin's wrath, you saved me."
These buggering bastards are listening. As much as he wanted to talk to her, he could not risk her life as well.
She offered him her hand, a gesture he had seen before. She gave him a maiden's blessing. Just that is is no maiden anymore. I let her down. He had many things to confess, he agreed with the septon, but he was certain they did not have the same definition of sin.
With all his strength, he pushed himself to a kneeling position. His side burned, where a blade had bitten his flesh, and his right knee was swollen from the fall.
He took her hand. It was cold in this cell but her hands were warm, and soft. She squeezed his hand slightly and he felt something else, something that was not skin. Something crisp. A note. He moved his hand so that it was easier to take it.
"Nothing to be grateful for, lady." He stressed that word to show her that he was aware of the eyes and ears, that he would not be so foolish as to read this note openly. "I did not do it for you." He added, hoping that she got it, hoping that she would see what he meant. It was not your fault. I was wrong, I was a stubborn bastard and I treated you like shit. She should be kicking him, mock him, look at him with scorn. But she didn't. Once I'm out of this bloody cell again, I'll make it up to her. I'll do whatever -
She squeezed his hand again, she would let go. Carefully, he hid the piece of paper ni his hand, hoping that no blood would stain her words.
"May the Seven judge you justly. The Gods have their eyes on you." her voice was sharp but she wouldn't have had to mention it. Sandor knew he was watched.
He nodded.
"Aye, they won't like what they see." he laughed, and did not even have to force it. She had come.
She gave him a last lingering look and he tried to burn her image into his mind. Then she left and closed the door and Sandor felt the paper burning in his palm. He waited, although he did not know how long. The shadow of the barred window had moved from the opposite wall down to the floor when he finally dared to open his hand again. The paper was half hidden by the straw of his pallet, but her writing was clear.
"Forgive me, if you can." was the first line and he felt tears of shame burning in his eyes. All this time had he made her believe that he did not care, had he made her believe that it was her fault. I will prove her my worth, I can, once I'm free again, I will.
"You stand accused of half a dozen crimes, some of which you are guilty of, as witnesses will prove. Your only chance is therefore trial by combat but be warned, the sparrow is not a fair man. He will not let you win that easily. I guess he might be using seven defenders, one for each aspect of the Gods. He might also insist that you are not to wear plate as your innocence must be your armour. I cannot help you in a duel, I fear, although I hope this warning might, but I will do for you whatever I can." There was no more room but she had squeezed a warped heart in a corner, drawn with black ink.
She thought him indifferent, perhaps, but she was not. Sandor read it again. I will do for you whatever I can. Only when he read it for the third time did he realise what it meant. Seven opponents, in the state I'm in. That would not be easy. But fighting without armour… Sandor sat up. No more lying down. He would have to find his strength. For her as much as for himself. She sacrificed her own life by smuggling this in. Sandor considered. If it was found...he put it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and it was gone. She got the fairytales all wrong. She's always there to save the beast instead of waiting for her prince to save her. She was not like the others. Sandor ahd to smile despite himself.
When the door opened again, he thought he would be brought down to the dungeons again. Instead, they brought him a jug of water. Poison? He sniffed and it stank, but not more than the ale in some brewhouses. Thirst won and he drank it down slowly. It tasted foul but felt deliciously wet in his mouth.
Later came a maester, one from the Red Keep. Her words sway even that iron old man. It almost made him smile but he restrained himself.
It was the young one with the freckles, he had soft hands and eyes that looked at him without seeing him really. He treated the cuts as if Sandor was some sort of doll, but he treated them all the same. The salve burned, as it always did, but it was a sweet pain. She had sent this fool, no doubt, the most clueless maester at court, one who did not know anything that could incriminate Sandor, or anyone else.
When the boy left, Sandor felt better than he had in the past weeks. His body was bruised, bloody and bandaged, but his mind was clearer than ever. He would fight those seven beggars, kill them all, and the buggering septon, then he would see to her. Make up to her what he could. He would apologise, for all the good it did, but he needed to say it.
When the sun set, a septon came, or a novice, or whatever he was. He brought water and bread.
"You have confessed your sins. And as we sin so do we suffer. The Gods will judge you justly. Either you choose the Most Devout to-"
"Fuck the devout. I demand trial by combat." Sandor rasped.
The other one, the sparrow leader, entered his cell with a smile.
"You have that right." he said. "I have to apologise. You had confessed your sins before the Gods, I had no right to judge you for them. As you wish. Before the Seven will you fight to prove your guilt... or innocence. If the Gods judge you innocent, you are free to go. If you are found guilty of all the crimes you admitted to, you shall be punished accordingly."
Sandor snorted. "You're almost licking your lips, old man. Looking forward to that, are you? Don't get your hopes up. Your champion will forget his Gods and pray to me soon enough."
It sounded as something he would say. He had to pretend to underestimate him and the man would make a mistake.
The novice took out something that looked like a whip but the old man put a sinewy hand on it.
"No, brother. It is not for us to torment those that have confessed." Then he turned to Sandor and his pale water blue eyes were full of hatred.
"As you say." he nodded. "I have never met a more ungodly man than you, but the Gods shall decide, not me. I was reminded of that again today."
The novice left them alone in the cell.
"Your trial by combat shall take place in six days. Your wounds will have healed by then."
He turned around, then looked back down at him.
"I pray to the Seven for justice. I pray to the Seven for your end. Those were my brothers you slaughtered in that alley."
"I warned them." was all that Sandor replied and the old man locked the door as behind him without another word and left Sandor alone.
Hey, thank you for reading. I have to apologise for this. Firstly, I have no idea where we are timewise, but I decided that it might be start of 'February', and that fits well into the storyline I developed^^
Secondly, the High Septon is more than a little out of character I fear, but I didn't really want to have Sandor whipped and hanging from the ceiling in shackles like poor Osney, just not so appealing to me. I also try to stay as close to the original plot as possible and he had this amazing duel with Beric...
I was inspired by what it was like in the Catholic Church of old, once you confessed what they wanted to hear, the torture stopped (normally), and there was the block waiting for you^^. I know that a trial does not really make sense as he has already confessed but it is needed, so I chose to be pragmatic. I'm sorry though, I know it's not exactly a masterpiece of logic.
I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Next one is going to be better. Perhaps.