Relieved of Service

Sandor

They hadn't broken the news easy. Littlefinger had casually brought up the letter, pretending not to want her to see it. He almost looked pleased to inform the girl her whole family was dead. It was a kick in the face when he graciously offered her a marriage to some Bolton bastard. If Sandor hadn't needed to run after her, he would have stayed to bash the fucker's head in. They'd fled, though where he wasn't sure. He couldn't ask.

After she had found out, after she had fled, she had been hysterical. Gasping, coughing, choking, eyes watering, and nose running. She had started walking, furious steps, beating the ground with each footprint. He'd made the mistake of asking if she was alright only once.

She'd thrown herself toward him, guttural animal screeches spewing forth from her throat, spittle on her lips and cheeks. She clawed at him, one hand clutching at his greasy hair, the other dragging blunt nails down his scarred cheek. It was all he could do to fend her off. He pried her angry frame off him and she crumbled to the ground. In a heap, she heaved up everything in her stomach. Mostly stomach waters and a bit of the mashed turnip they'd eaten only the night before came up. She worked hard to breathe, and even then she only managed shallow gasps. He tried to put his hand on her back in sympathy, but she bucked him off and he decided to let her be. No crying, but her eyes were rimmed red and her nose was crusted with snot. Her whole world was gone and he was woefully useless. He could offer her nothing.

She was scaring him. More than scaring him. For the last few days she had said nothing, like a ghost. She lie down when he stopped at sundown. Whether she slept or not, he couldn't be sure. The first few nights he'd checked and her eyes were open. It unnerved him so much he stopped checking. But when the sun rose, she rose, and walked on. He wasn't sure where they were headed, but he feared how she would respond if he asked.

So he waited.

He offered her food. She pushed it away. He let her, so long as she sipped at the water.

So on they went. He'd begun to feel that he was following his oath more than her. She didn't seem to care if he was there or not, she made no notice of him. She wouldn't even care if he stopped following.

It was on the fourth day she took a leg from the roast rabbit and tore into the meat with ferocity. He was heartened by this. She was eating and with gusto. But her next words chilled him thoroughly.

"You can't go on like this." She said it without looking at him. Like it was a fact of the universe and she was just stating it.

"Like what?" He grumbled.

"Staying with me. You'll get yourself killed."

He gives a humorless chuckle. He'd been thinking as much.

"I can handle myself." He answers.

She looks at him then and it makes his gut jump.

"That's not what I meant." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Where I'm going, you can't follow."

"Where are you…?"

"I don't want you to follow." She restates herself.

It shouldn't hurt his feelings, but it does.

"I've sworn to serve you. I'm not going anywhere." He argues.

"You swore to protect Arya Stark, the daughter of the Hand of the King, sister to the King in the North. They're dead and I'm neither. I can't go home, it's burned to the ground. I can't make it right, but I can make them pay. Whatever that means. I don't know… I don't know where I'm going, but I don't want you to come with me." She puts bluntly.

"But..."

"Your pity and concern make it worse." She admits. And guilt creeps up on him.

"How will you make them pay? Who? The Freys? You can't."

"I will." She growls. It frightens him. He shuts his mouth.

"Thank you for everything Sandor. Truly." She throws the bones, now chewed clean, into the bushes. "I relieve you of your service. You're free to finish your own business."

The sting of it burns. He takes her offer to heart. He can only watch her gather her things.

"Princess..."

She stops and turns at that.

"We both have lists to finish. You said so." He'd heard her list spoken enough times. His was much shorter though it haunted him just as much. That was something they bonded over. "If you follow me, you will never have your vengeance." The warning sparks a deep fear inside him- to never have justice against his brother. The fucker truly deserved to die. "Your destiny is back that way. I've kept you from it long enough." She motions behind him, South. "Good luck."

For all the supplies she carried, her feet were light and she made almost no sound. He watched her till she was out of sight. He ate the rest of the rabbit, leaving little meat left on the bones. And he went backward, as she suggested. Might as well. Seemed a good idea as any. He didn't feel guilty about letting her go off on her own, she'd freed him. She could take care of herself. He wouldn't bet against the Stark girl.