Author's note: I can only apologise for the delay in this. But the man who attacked me had been caught and pled guilty...and should hopefully be sentenced soon. And that's put me in a good enough place to write again! I hope you enjoy this, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.

Several days later…

Round the fire

Maud ripped the feathers out the pigeon, handing the carcass over to Jon, the self-proclaimed cook of the group.

He accepted the bird with a smile, adding it to the pile beside him as he finished grinding herbs.

Maud had to admit, his food was tasty, at least the little she'd had so far. Her outside cooking experiences had mostly consisted of burnt meat, perhaps with some veg on the side. But Jon had an amazing method of stuffing birds and coating them in a thick covering of mud, which was then cracked off after to leave a fully juicy meal. He'd been the cook at the inn at Mummer's Ford, before the Mountain attacked the town. Although Jon had no fighting experience, he and the rest of the survivors had joined the Brotherhood without Banners.

"Last chance," he said. "Are you sure you don't need me to make you Moon Tea? After today it'll be too late and won't have any effect."

Maud hoped her flushed face would be disguised by the fire's glow. "I'm sure. But thank you."

Lem, the man on her other side, looked at her curiously. "You've been the Hound's plaything for almost a year. How'd you survive something like that and not need Moon Tea?"

"Lem! She doesn't want to talk about it!" Anguy hissed sharply. "Maud, you don't need to tell us what you've been through until you want to."

She grabbed another bird from the small pile at her feet and ripped the feathers out roughly. "He didn't hurt me," she said, eyes glued to the task at hand. Snorts of disbelief echoed from the men around the campfire. "He didn't rape me," she said louder.

"Ah yes, because the Cleganes are known for their kind and caring natures. Did you sit around and braid each other's hair?" Lem snorted.

Maud bit the inside of her cheek. She'd only been with the Brotherhood for a few days, she didn't want to fight and be told to leave, or worse. And yet even though Sandor had left her alone, she wanted to defend him. Who else would? "He's not as bad as his brother," she settled on. "And he's not as bad as Joffrey."

"If there is anyone worse than the Mountain, I don't want to meet them," Beric said, trying to disarm the situation.

"Maybe he's a eunuch?" Lem suggested. "Could explain why he's so angry all the time - and why he didn't rape you."

"To cock-less Clegane," Thoros smirked, raising a skin of wine. Howls of laughter responded.

Seven hells. "He's not a eunuch," Maud muttered.

Lem heard her protest. "How'd you know? Unless...it wasn't rape because you wanted it." His face darkened. "Did you lie with the dog?"

"No!" Maud squeaked, noting the man's hand going to his dagger. "I'm still a maiden. I just, well, as you said, I shared a room with him. He kept his hands to himself but I still saw things."

"And we must apologise in advance for any cocks you see here," Beric said, always the peacemaker. "I can assure you that none of these men will touch you - unless they want to feel the wrath of the Lord of Light - but nor are they eunuchs and are not used to a woman's company in quite some time."

A ghost of a smile flitted on Maud's lips. "I had two brothers, I'll be fine," she replied, passing the fully de-feathered bird in her lap to Jon.

The conversation moved on, but throughout the evening Maud kept catching Anguy look at her as if he was worried.

Several weeks later...

A dead Frey

"I'll tell you what, though. The hardest thing was getting that wolf's head to stay on the body," the Frey man bragged to his three companions.

Arya slid off Stranger, landing on her feet. Sandor huffed to himself. This girl was turning out to be nothing but trouble. But shit if seeing that wolf's head flopping around on her brother's body wasn't disturbing - even for him.

"I bet there were a thousand men claiming they were the one," his friend scoffed, his mouth full of food.

"It was me. And Malcolm and Talbott. Well, the thing was so heavy, it fell off the first time. Took the skin right with it. What we ended up having to do was hook the needle right under the collarbone. Give it a nice firm mooring and -" The first man stopped when he saw Arya come up. "What do you want?"

"Mind if I keep warm?"

"Fuck off," one of the other Frey men responded.

"But I'm hungry," Arya said, in a little girl voice that Sandor knew not to trust.

"Does fuck off mean something different where you're from?"

"I've got money," Arya offered, taking a silver Braavosi coin from her belt.

The Frey soldier bent down to pick up the coin after Arya dropped it. The girl held him down by the neck and stabbed him repeatedly.

Fuck's sake, Sandor rolled his eyes as he unsheathed his sword, moving to protect the girl. She's worse than Maud for getting in trouble. He shielded Arya as the other three soldiers rose to attack her, punching one of them in the face, then turning his blade to slash a second soldier in the gut. The third soldier made to attack Sandor, but a quick move disarmed him. With a grunt, he dispatched the two living soldiers as the girl watched on from the ground.

Sandor turned to her, danger glinting in his eyes. "Where did you get the knife?"

"From you," she said, holding up the blade.

"Is that the first man you've killed?" He asked, snatching the knife away from her. He was pissed off, but also a little bit impressed.

"The first man," was the response.

"Next time you're going to do something like that, tell me first," he growled, walking to the fire and picking up the soldier's meal. At least he could get some food out of this.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl bend down and pick up the Braavosi coin. "Valar morghulis," she whispered.

Chickens

"Fuck the king," Sandor snarled.

The chatter in the inn stopped. He enjoyed the silence for a second, taking a deep pull of ale.

"When I heard that Joffrey's dog had tucked tail and run from the Battle of the Blackwater, I didn't believe it. But here you are," the man Arya had called Polliver said.

"Here I am. Bring me one of those chickens."

"You got money to pay for it?"

"You paid for it?" Sandor could feel himself get ready for a fight.

"No," the small fool laughed. "But we're the king's men. So, you got money?"

"Not a penny. I'll still take that chicken."

"Tell you what. We'll trade you. One of our little chickens for one of yours. Give us a go at your friend. Lowell there likes them a bit broken in." The other soldiers chuckled at this and Sandor's hackles went up, even as he noticed Arya freeze. His mind went to his brother, and how he stopped him from raping Maud. Even if he couldn't kill his brother right now, he could take out some of his men.

"You're a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty," Sandor said, grabbing the man's drink and finishing the ale in one gulp. "And hungry. Think I'll take two chickens."

"You don't seem to understand the situation," Polliver replied.

"I understand that if any more words come pouring out of your cunt mouth, I'm gonna have to eat every fucking chicken in this room," Sandor warned.

"You lived your life for the king. You're gonna die for some chickens?"

"Someone is," he responded, staring at the smaller man across the table.

Polliver rose, but before he could attack Sandor flipped the table, knocking the other man over. He used his sword and his fists to fight, grunting as Polliver and another man managed to get him on the ground, kicking him violently. He stabbed blindly with his sword, righting himself before knocking the smaller man to the ground and punching him in the face, before killing another man. A minute later Sandor was on the ground again, a soldier lying on top of him. With all his strength, Sandor wrestled his dagger free with one hand, stabbing the man repeatedly in the face before tossing the body to one side.

He took a second to catch his breath (we couldn't eat before the fight? I'm fucking starving) and out the corner of his eye he saw Arya stand up from the corner she'd been cowering in. He saw her hit a soldier over his head and take his sword, before stabbing Polliver with it.

"Something wrong with your leg, boy?" She said to Polliver, in a dangerously flat voice.

"What? What do you mean?" The man was as confused as Sandor.

"Can you walk? I've got to carry you?" Sandor decided to ignore Arya's little theatrics and ran his sword through the last of the remaining soldiers.

When he turned back, Arya was removing her thin blade carefully from the man's throat, watching with satisfaction while Polliver choked to death on his own blood.

Well, Sandor thought. I deserve some chicken and Wolf Girl deserves a horse.

Several months later…

Lord of Light

Maud stared into the fire, willing herself to see something in the flames. Five months she'd been with the Brotherhood, and she'd only seen one vision: Sandor looking up at a man hung from the rafters of what looked like a half-built sept. Had he killed the man? Was it someone he was going to kill? Why was he wearing simple clothes instead of his armour? She wasn't sure, and when she mentioned it to Thoros in private, he was not able to provide a meaning. "R'hllor shows what he shows," was the vague response.

"R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you. R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you," the man called now.

"We thank you for the sun that warms us. We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay," Maud replied instinctively.

She hadn't been asked to change religion, but after a few weeks with the Brotherhood she'd been intrigued by their prayers and had turned to the red haired priest to learn more. The Seven had never helped her, so she thought she'd try her luck with the Lord of Light. If this world truly was hell, and there was the chance of something better, so be it.

She became caught up in her prayers, so much so that she jumped when Anguy gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," he smiled down at where she was kneeling in front of the fire. "Are you ready?"

Maud smiled back, smoothing down her trousers as she stood up. As the only female in the group, it was a lot easier to obtain trousers than a skirt or dress, and Maud found herself enjoying the change. "Ready," she replied.

Anguy passed Maud her bow and a quiver of arrows, and Maud joined the dozens of men around her in checking and readying her weapon. Since the massacre now called the Red Wedding a few months ago, the battle for the throne was all but over. There were rumours about a princess with dragons in Yunkai, but there was no one in Westeros who was standing up to the Lannisters. No one but the Brotherhood. They knew they couldn't win in all-out warfare, so they were using guerilla tactics. Tonight they were going to attack a Lannister outpost that a scout had spotted the day before.

Under the cover of darkness, Anguy took Maud's hand as the group made their way silently towards the enemy camp. She squeezed his fingers. It had only been a few weeks ago that the archer had confessed his feelings for Maud, telling her he'd have done something about it sooner if her brother Horace hadn't told him to stay away. They hadn't done anything much, just a few kisses here and there. It felt different than with Sandor, easier. She hadn't told Anguy about what had happened during her time in captivity, or the feeling she had (or thought she'd had? She wasn't sure any more) for the hulk of a man. In return, Anguy hadn't told Maud that he was the one that captured Sandor, or that he'd insinuated to the man that Maud had turned him in.

As they reached the camp, Maud and Anguy pulled their hands apart in unison. Time to kill some Lannisters.

Several years later…

The green wedding

Beric knocked the door gently, before peeking his head inside. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Maud checked her reflection in the polished metal mirror, fussing with the fastening on her cloak. "I think so," she smiled.

"Just one last touch," the innkeeper's wife clucked, dashing over. She puffed a pink powder onto Maud's cheeks. Maud tried not to sneeze as some of the powder tickled her nose. "There. Perfect," the older woman decided. She had no daughter of her own, so when she heard why the Brotherhood was camping nearby she'd offered her spare room.

"Thank you," Maud hugged the woman, before taking Beric's arm. "Now I'm ready."

The pair walked in silence out of the inn, Maud's heartbeat pounding in her ears. Beric squeezed her arm as they began to see the flickering flame. "You look beautiful," he said, turning his head so she could see his good eye.

Maud smiled, fingers fidgeting. "I'm strangely nervous," she admitted.

Beric scoffed. "You've slaughtered dozens of Lannisters, yet you're scared of Anguy? He's probably more scared of you."

Maud bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing. "I'll bear that in mind," she smiled as they began to walk through the crowd of Brothers.

Beside the fire stood Anguy and Thoros, both grinning.

Thoros bowed his head at Maud as she pulled up at the other side of the ditch fire. "Who comes here tonight?"

"Beric Dondarrion - I bring Maud of the Brotherhood."

"And who here claims this woman?" Thoros asked.

"I do - Anguy of the Brotherhood." Almost shyly, he took Maud's hand.

"Anguy and Maud: will you share the fire with each other, to warm you when the night is dark and full of terrors?"

"We will," the pair parroted.

The vows continued, with Anguy and Maud muttering their consent.

"With these vows, you become one. Please jump over the ditch fire, shedding your old lives and emerging as one."

Maud gulped as Anguy squeezed her hand. On his nod, they took a running jump over the fire, the flames licking their feet for an instant.

Once they were safely on the other side, Thoros intoned "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." With gentle hands, Anguy removed Maud's cloak, draping it on the ground before putting his own cloak over her. She felt his warmth through it like the fire itself.

"May R'hllor bless this union," Thoros grinned.

And with that, Maud was married.

Aftermath

Sandor's breath was ragged as he lay on the grass, unable to move. He glared in the direction the Wolf Girl has gone in.

He was going to die, he knew. That big bitch in armour had seen to that. His ear throbbed, his leg was clearly broken and he was pretty sure at least one rib was broken, given the pain in his chest.

This wasn't the way he had imagined himself dying. It would be on a bloody battlefield - hopefully after killing his brother. Not being tossed off a hill by a girl playing soldier...all for a child. Sandor grimaced as he spat a dollop of blood. He should have let the bitch take Wolf Girl. With her aunt dead would there have been any chance for a ransom anyway?

Hours passed as Sandor's eyes fluttered closed and memories played across his vision. His brother holding him down against the flames. His first kill. Being named Joffrey's protector back when the boy had been but a baby. Maud as she flew across the room to kiss him. The horrific green flames on the Blackwater.

Feverish, Sandor wasn't sure how long he lay there for. He tried to stand but even with his hulking strength he was unable to move and his attempts became weaker as day turned to night then back again. Flies were beginning to hover over him, drawn to the wound on his neck and his soil. He let out a harsh bark of a laugh as he thought about the poor bastard who would find his body. Would they try to move it? Or leave him there til he rotted? Would they cut off his head and give it to the Lannisters? He hoped not. He never wanted to see a Lannister again, even in death.

A noise cut across his thoughts - a man's voice. Death, Sandor thought. It's death. Fucking finally. Gratefully, he closed his eyes.