Two more nights came and were gone, without Clegane sleep, only watching the corridors carrying out the order of the half-man, the two tedious days passed, the night fell once more, and Sandor just ate it with my eyes.
Clarie had appropriated "The Real Heroes of History," and locked herself in her bedroom while Clegane went to feed himself, bathe or whatever Dog did in that short time he had for himself. She sat on a large sofa and read up to that moment. Got up already dressed properly for sleep, and laid down, feeling her head to beat but a knock on the door was heard and she stood up, somewhat suspiciously. She frowned and threw the robe over her robes and opened the door.
Joffrey entered the room without any formalities, then close it. Then looking around the room and looking at her again. He looked drunk enough to stumble over the carpet. He reached Clarie without saying anything and tore off her robe, throwing her on the bed as she struggled. Joffrey laughed and tore off his clothes as she screamed desperately. Joffrey's crown was already down and he could almost see Clarie's full nakedness. Joffrey pressed her to the bed, holding her and hurting her.
The door opened abruptly, and Clegane stopped there, staring at her then staring at Joffrey, his hand on his sword observing Clarie with tears in his eyes and Joffrey with one of his hands on Clarie's breast, and the other holding her, as she stared at him.
"Get out of here, filthy dog." He ordered, stumbling over the words, looking back at Clarie. Clarie was looking at Dog, this time without fearing her scars, but in panic, in fear, begging for help. "Dog, obey your master! Obey your owner, dog! Dogs abide by the orders, get out!"
"My young king, you do not want to do this now." He hinted, still holding the handle of his sword, looking at the blond, who had clear signs that he had drunk more than he should have.
"I am the king, stupid dog, I will have what I want." He had difficulty pronouncing the letter D for he was drunk, but still the king.
"My King, tomorrow you will have to wake up early, and you better rest." The burned knight strode toward them, and pulled Joffrey up from Clarie with a little strength, with the young man's resistance. "You cannot be tired, my King," he said, and Joffrey looked at him. He was so drunk that Dog believed he would not even remember what had happened there.
"Yeah, you're right," he murmured, and Clegane led him out of the room, glaring at her, down to her breasts and a higher smile before leaving, closing the door.
She cringed on the bed and let herself cry for some time, afraid that someone would come, that Joffrey would come back, or send Meryn Trant to pick her up until she heard Hound Dog come back, and throw himself on the armchair that lay outside the chambers.
She got up, still scared, afraid that Dog would come in, and also afraid that it would not be Dog. She ran to the door, and locked it, sliding her hand through the door, giving her last sob, and swapping if the fastest that can.
She laid down with wet eyes, and at great cost, she closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by her dreams and then woke up, as if he had not slept five minutes, but it was already late. It was loud snoring coming from the door. She tried several times to force herself to sleep, but she knew that Clegane had not slept properly for more than a fortnight. He had remained awake every trip, leaving the men away from Clarie, taking into account that the time they had to rest on that exhausting journey was no more than four hours a day, and now he would sit in an uncomfortable chair to watch over her at night, and by day, She did not know what Joffrey ordered him to do. He did not sleep well.
She stood there, feeling her head still heavy for several minutes, and then she closed her eyes and inflated her lungs as much as she could, rising and covering herself with a robe, and walking to the door and unlocking it as quietly as she could. Could. She closed her eyes again, and let the air out quietly, knocking the door slowly, opening it, avoiding all the noise. The hallway was significantly colder than her bedroom, and she imagined herself sleeping there in that chair.
She lifted her body and stared at the corridors beside Dog's opposite. She looked down the hallway as a Lion looks at his hunt. Her breathing was an attempt at normalization, and her stomach was cold. She wanted so badly to get out of that corridor and escape from Kings Landing, but she knew she could not. Alone, there, Joffrey would have her in his hands faster than she would have to get out of there if he happened to pass the castle.
She sighed, disappointed, and looked at Dog, startling herself deeply and taking a step back when she saw him standing there. Her brown eyes were visible in the moonlight streaming through the window, and her scars became more horrendous that light, making her feel bad for finding it so repulsive. Sandor took a step toward her and grabbed her arm and she drew back, looking away, already leaning against the portal.
"Please, Sir, it scares me ..."
"So afraid of a Dog, little bird?" Clegane laughed hoarsely, but Clarie did not answer, scared still without her gaze. "What do you think you were doing?" He changed his tone, making him more rude and serious, menacing. She did not look at him and she was afraid. She was always afraid when Dog was putting her close. The man was terribly frightening, incredibly tall, with his scarred face, and his manner of acting, of speaking, he was absolutely scary.
"I can not sleep with your snoring. It would just wake me, Sir, and ..." The Dog laughed low and hoarse, in his coarse manner, but annoyed that Clarie did not look at him.
"I am not Sir. " He gritted his teeth. "I suppose you came and invited me to lie down in your bed?" He enjoyed it, his voice is raspy. "No? On your couch? Are you afraid I'll fuck you, little bird?" He laughed hoarsely, watching her, and she felt his warm breath against her face. She closed her eyes, feeling her salivate mouth. "Come on, little bird, into your room, I will not bother you anymore. " He whispered bitterly, and released her, throwing himself into the chair, and looking forward. She kept her eyes closed, still frightened, and her breathing heavy, but she felt a strange shiver, and her mouth still saliva. "Do not go there, little bird, or I'll understand it as an invitation to your pussy." He growled, still looking straight ahead, and she blinked her head, and went back into the room, slamming the door hard and locking it too fast.
There was no noise coming from Dog that night, but it did not make her rest better than she had. The Dog frightened her and she could not deny that Lord Tyrion made her feel protected, even though she knew it might not be true.
The day had dawned and the maid, this time a brunette, came from Lord Tyrion, combed her curly hair, and apologized for Tyrion, wishing she could not send her coffee since Joffrey demanded she come to the breakfast. Hunting Dog was not at his door, nor was the armchair giving the impression that he had been gone for a long time.
The maid led her through the corridors, taking her to a table full of masses, fruits, drinks, and whatever else she could imagine, there was that table. King Joffrey rose from his chair, looking at her with a metallic smile, and pulled out a chair at his side.
"Sit down here, Lady." Joffrey signaled the chair beside him and Clarie stepped back, looking at the table. Only Tyrion, who was watching her, sat there, and Sir Meryn Trant, leaning against the wall, and Sir Bronn, who sat silent on a chair near Tyrion, and Joffrey, who was extremely annoyed by the man's presence, but did not appear to be anything of the day. She inflated her lungs, closing her eyes for a few seconds, almost imperceptibly, and took the first step, feeling Joffrey looking at her, just like Tyrion and Bronn.
She sat down beside the King as carefully as she could, avoiding looking at him, and stared at Sir Bronn, who was not looking at her by peeling na apple.
"Eat, Lady. " Joffrey pulled the chair hard, making a loud noise, but she stared at Sir Bronn.
"I'm not hungry, my king." She said, looking into her own hands." Thanks." She said, and Joffrey wrinkles his face in an indecipherable expression and slammed his hand on the table.
"All right, one day or another will have to eat. " He said, helping himself, and looking at the uncle, giving a crooked smile. "After all, if you want to stop being that awkward and gain some body, you must eat." He laughed, holding a glass of wine, lifting it as if making a toast and rubbing his hand over Clarie's thigh.
That delayed their breakfast, and she withdrew after a few humiliating comments from Joffrey and only he and Sir Trant laughed, while Tyrion regarded him with disbelieving indignation.
"Milady, I will send Clegane with something to eat," Tyrion whispered to her, and smiled, passing with a humming Sir Bronn.
She went to her quarters, and sat on the edge of the bed, opening her book, and wandering her eyes for four long paragraphs as the door opened without a knock, and Hound hounded toward the table, which Lady Clarie flinched, cowering in her bed. Hound set the coffee down on his desk, and looked at her, writhing his face at something that should be a mocking smile.
"Is the little bird so afraid the Dog bites her?" He paused, taking a step toward the girl who was staring at the pectoral of her unusual armor. She looked at the dogs, emblazoned on her armor, the symbol of her home. "Or are you afraid that Dog will eat it?"
"Clegane ... " She began, finally well to sue, remembering that coat of arms. "Sir, is this Gregor Clegane?"
"I'm not a fucking Sir, I'm a Hound." He took a hard step toward her, making her frightened, staring at his scars with fear, fear, and averted her gaze. She could not look at him, at his scars or at his look full of hatred and desire for death. "Gregor is my brother." He growled roughly, and she closed her eyes, squeezing them. "What did he do to you?" - He asked a little that debauched, having fun with that. "Did he kill who you love?" He continued his tone, and she shifted, and Sandor understood. "He raped someone you knew?" She sounded annoyed at that. "In front of you, perhaps." She did not look at him but turned her face away from Sandor.
"He finished with my ..."
"Don't be selfish, Little Bird. Gregor did not just end his life, you're not the only one, not the first nor the last." She could feel the metallic taste of Dog's voice. He turned, leaving Clarie's room, slamming the door, and leaving her alone.
The days that followed were like this. Joffrey tried to control himself but threatened her every moment, and Tyrion merely stared at him threateningly, avoiding confrontation but seemed more irritated each day and with a gentle approach to Lady Clarie. After getting up from the table, Tyrion sent Clegane a coffee, which she suspected he himself was doing.
She sat down once more for breakfast, but she did not eat the last meal, and Joffrey looked at her with hate.
"Let's go, Lady, eat." He used his sarcasm to be gentle, leaving his irritation obvious. Her stomach betrayed her openly as she begged for food.
"I'm not hungry, my king." She whispered, looking at the cheese in front of her. An absurd thud was heard, and Joffrey stood up.
"Come, then, declare your love for me. " He smiled at that, but Clarie just looked down, and they stayed that way for a while. "Where?" Clarie looked down, without a word to say, and Tyrion rolled his eyes, throwing the cutlery on the plates. "A king should not hit a Lady." His voice scratched at her throat, he could feel it. "Dog, do it! " He commanded looking at the man. She shuddered and felt angry, but Dog did not move, just looking at the King, who will understand that Dog would not do it.
"I am very sorry, Your Majesty. " Dog apologized, and Joffrey was as red as a tomato could be.
"Joffrey!" Tyrion clapped his hands on the table, but Joffrey turned his anger on Dog.
"You useless shit, your king orders!" He yelled, but Dog stood still, and Joffrey would scream again and Tyrion would interfere, but the loud noise repeated twice was heard, and everyone looked at Clarie. His face was red and slowly took on the shape of Sir Trant's fingers. Joffrey laughed. - "Once again!" And the noise echoed, and Joffrey threw himself on his chair, laughing, motioning for Trant to return to the place. Clarie still had her face turned.
"Sit down here, Clarie. " Tyrion ordered and looked where Sir Bronn normally stood, who was not present, indicating where she should sit.
"She will not, Monster," Joffrey ordered.
"I'm a monster, and a king should fear a monster that divides the food and the ceiling. My lady, sit down here." Joffrey seemed to want to say something more, but Tyrion held up his hand and Joffrey remembered his grandfather and bit his lips angrily. He had to continue to support Tyrion at his grandfather's command, and he could not lose the trust of old Tywin Lannister. He sat in the chair and looked at him angrily. Clarie was shaking with rage as she got up and turned around, but Joffrey stood up.
"You have finished our time here." She had barely sat down, and Joffrey announced the end as an order. He leaned forward, running his fingers over her chin, and smiled. "A beautiful whore," he whispered, and pressed his fingers to her face, bruising her, and released her brutally. "You're lucky to be attractive if you did not give the Hunting Dog a gift." He laughed and stood up. Clarie looked at him, still feeling her face hurt and pained. Meryn Trant was turning, and she slipped her fingers through the cheese knife, and stood up, looking at the king with hatred, as she held the knife firmly between her fingers, making steady steps toward the King.
Hound hastened to her, settling between the king and Lady Clarie, slipping his hand from her shoulder to Clarie's hand, discreetly taking the knife, while the king looked at him uncomprehendingly, seeing the Hound take off the handkerchief and clean gently the blood flowing from the girl's lips, and Clarie looked him in the eye for the first time, and Dog did the same.
"How could such a great, frightening man handle such delicate hands or wipe the blood out of my mouth?"- Thought
The king withdrew, and Dog looked at the door and looked back at her, who still stared into his eyes for a few seconds, until he lowered himself a little to his breastplate, sadly.
"I do not want to-" She said, still not looking away from Clegane. He knew that if he had attacked Joffrey, Sir Meryn Trant would kill her before he could complete the task.
"Free yourself the pain, small bird. Do what he wants." He said hoarsely, and she finally averted her gaze after staring at the hideous scars, after feeling the fear retake her body. She lifted the handkerchief back to him, but he did not pick it up. "You'll need it a lot more than I do." Said.
"Come, Dog!" Joffrey shouted from the hallway, and he looked at the door and whirled around, stomping off.
"Dog!" She almost ordered it, but she hesitated to see the man called by that name, and Sandor stopped, still on his back, and looked over his shoulder, giving a hoarse, low, disgusted laugh, and walking again.
"Are you all right, Lady Clarie?" Tyrion felt rather guilty and was already at Clarie's side. She looked at him and nodded. "I will accompany you, my lady. "He said, and they went through the hall. Tyrion had insisted on being with her for much of the time, and as much as she did not show it, Clarie was grateful for that.
