Night came, and this time she was not sure it was Dog who was watching her door. Maybe some random one and she was afraid Joffrey would come in his drunken state like last time. He had not, and she thanked him for it the next morning. Each day that passed, she became closer to Lord Tyrion, despite little progress, and she felt safer with Hound, though he became less and less necessary to the lookout.
It was night, and aia slept heavily in her chair. Clarie rolled over on the bed. She would go to the kitchen, she decided. Aia would not notice, she was sure.
She unlocked the door carefully and looked around. Barefoot, she walked down the aisles, clutching her not well-behaved clothes, but not too vulgar to give him more mobility, though he was not long, fast and silent, looking sideways until he reached the kitchen. Milk, cheese, and bread. She stood there for some time, peering through the small kitchen window, letting herself be carried away by the starry sky.
She got up, sighing, and went out the door, so she could walk faster, and decide whether or not to go to the gardens. She was frightened, as she watched him stop her, pushing her against the wall.
"Where are you going, little bird?" Dog's breath was pure alcohol, and he was incredibly drunk, maybe he'd had a bad night. "What would the king say by seeing his toy wandering freely in the corridors after sunset?" His voice was rough. "It would be bad." He said, looking her up and down. "I know you're a woman already." He still stared at her body as if he could devour her right there.
"Please, Sir, you're scaring me!" She said, startled, looking away from Sandor's scars.
"Sir?" He totally changed his voice. Coarse, as if irritated, spit it out without honor. He showed no honor in serving, he was bitter. "I'm a dog, remember? King Joffrey's Dog and you're the little bird." He still spoke in his menacing tone but changed it to continue. "Where were you going, Bird?" He asked, sliding his hand down Clarie's arm.
"I just ..." She closed her eyes, avoiding her eyes. "I wanted to feel the breeze ..." She said to the drunken man in front of her. " Please, Sir ..."
"Let's go. " He said, pulling away and holding her arm again. "Come on, do not you want to walk the Dog? Let's feel the fucking breeze on our faces. " He chuckled. "Or what's left of mine, right?" He dragged her through the corridors, and she was out of action, being dragged down the aisles, struggling to follow Sandor's long, swift steps, but failing miserably. She saw the grounds after Sandor jerked one of the exit doors. Sandor let go of her, halfway there, and backed away, throwing himself on one of the benches, looking at her, still standing.
She did not look at him, just stood there, feeling scared, but also feeling the soft grass under her bare feet, and the breeze discreetly swaying her dress. She stood there, feeling Dog's gaze behind her. She looked at her feet, and at Sandor, approaching wandering without looking at her face.
"Can I go back to my quarters, Sir?" She asked very quietly as Sandor smirked.
"Why, little bird?" He asked, biting her lips, and startled her by pulling her into his lap. She widened her eyes, trying to push him through the breastplate of the armor, but Sandor did not even force her to stop her, and with each movement, she felt Sandor's cock harden beneath the armor. He laughed when she stopped feeling him. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm breath of Sandor and his cock throbbing. For a moment he wanted to moan. It was almost impossible to stop the sound, and only an indecipherable growl came out. Her body burned, and a strange shiver wandered through her body. It was a woman, she knew. "We can stay here and do something more interesting. I can fuck you in the open air, something she'll never experience with her Lords." She shifted uncomfortably to Clegane's volume. "Does something bother you, milady?" He laughed in his mocking manner once more. It was a thick, very virile laugh, which made her shudder once more. "Little bird, could you give me a song?" He asked, and she closed her eyes, avoiding looking at him. "A song about true knights and beautiful maidens?" She stopped struggling, staring at him.
"You're not going to touch me, Dog". She said without looking at him, fearing the man as much as possible. Tyrion had given express orders that he wanted her safely, and Dog could not hurt her. She was Joffrey's only "toy."
"Come on, sing!" He held her shoulders as he said it loudly, rising a little, getting twice as big as it really was.
"I do not sing, Sir." She said, and stared at his scars, but looked down immediately, with a mixture of fear and distress.
"Fuck! And that's just what the Lady does, right? They sing, waiting for their Lord or Sir enchanted that will never appear because they live in a world where there are only Assassins, and soon they died because they can not see the real world. " He was clearly drunk, but not enough to not know what he was saying.
"You are a hateful man." She said and Sandor smiled as if proud to hear such a thing.
"You will love the odious things I do one day when I am the only thing that keeps your 'beloved' from hurting you." He said it so serious, but so arrogant. "Look at me." She could not look at him no matter how hard she tried. She felt a horrible fear, but he felt more ashamed of himself, his body responding to such arrogance. Sandor stood up and looked at her with an odious expression. She did not look at him.
"Clegane, what's going on here?" Tyrion asked, coming from the stone path toward the castle, standing next to them, staring at the scene.
"I was just talking to the little bird ..." He started, but Tyrion interrupted him.
" She did not seem to want to talk." And he was still staring at him, his forehead a little furrowed. "Because you do not rest tonight, and leave Lady Clarie." He suggested, and Sandor twitched his lips, and turned, stomping out, stepping hard. Clarie looked at Tyrion, her expression a little empty.
"Thank you, My Lord." And she turned as if to go away, but Tyrion called for her, taking a step toward her and stopped.
"Lady Clarie, do let me keep you company." He said, walking towards her with his legs bent crooked and a simple smile on his lips to look at her, but was not really happy just was gentle.
"There is no need, my lord." She said, her expression still vague. "You must have more important things to do."
"Not. I was with Bronn resolving real matters, and now I have nothing else to do, Milady." He said, finally reaching Clarie's side, and for a moment she laughed, closing her eyes, and Tyrion smiled, frowning. "What amuses you, Lady Clarie." She looked at him. They were not that close, but she felt safe to tell him certain things.
"Sir Bronn said he would go to a whore, Milord, and, if I may, we all know the fame of the 'insatiable goblin.'" She said, still smirking, and Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head as they walked.
"Yes, you're right, I was enjoying myself, Lady Clarie. He nodded at her. Despite being called a Goblin, I am a man, and the glory that I lack, I satisfy with more accessible pleasures." He said, running his short fingers through his blond-brown hair.
"Yes, indeed, My Lord." She said, and they were silent for a few minutes and just stared as if they wanted to talk but could not.
"I mean, Lady Clarie, that I heard only a little about Joffrey's going to his room by Varys." He said seriously, looking forward.
"No problem, My Lord." She said quietly, remembering that with her sad look. There was actually trouble, but what would he do? Joffrey was the king, and she was just a bastard. She could only hope to trust Tyrion and his words that it would be all right.
"I just want to apologize for this," Tyrion said, and looked at her, and she nodded. They walked for a few more minutes and entered the castle in silence, and they came to the corridor that separated them. She could see the aia, still lying on the bed, and Tyrion shook his head negatively with his lack of attention. "I'll go tomorrow until Littlefinger solves some real matters, and I wonder if he would join me." He asked, and she closed her eyes with a smile.
"Real affairs with Littlefinger, the owner of the most famous brothel of all seven kingdoms. Real matters like the ones you and Sir Bronn solved today?" She asked quietly, and Tyrion hung his head, smiling as he shook his head.
"Forgive me, Lady Clarie, that is not what I meant. I'm going to talk about Stannis, who, you know, is in a stalemate about attacking us or not, and I know it's not the most suitable place to invite a Lady to go, but I thought that after so long without leaving from the castle, I would like to get out a little. " He said, looking at her. "And where I'm going, you'll only go if you wish, Lady." She looked at him, and stayed for a few seconds, and nodded, and Tyrion bowed."Have a good night."
"Thank you, My Lord." She said, and went to her quarters, entering quietly, locking the door, and moving to the bed, sitting there, feeling that sleep had completely abandoned her, and gradually comparing Sandor's differences to her. Tyrion, and Eddard and his "brother", Jon Snow, and even Arya and Sansa. She lay down, remembering the day Robert took her out of the horrible arms of Newt and his wife, and named her Baratheon, but still considering her a bastard. She closed her eyes, and at great cost fell asleep.
They walked through the streets of King's Landing, toward Littlefinger's brothel, very slowly, and Sir Bronn and Tyrion talked a little further, and Clarie merely moved closer to Sandor, fearing the glances that guided them. Clegane was no longer watchful for the day, only when it was necessary, as it was there.
"Stannis has more infantry, more ships, more horses. What do we have?" Tyrion asked Sir Bronn as he walked through the tents, where the people soon stretched out their hands, offering them their wares.
"We have your mind, which you are always using." Sir Bronn answered, and Clarie slowed her steps, not enough not to hear them, but enough to appreciate the goods of the people. She reached out, picking up two apples, and tossing an old man two coins, and looked at Sandor, sulking, then lowered his gaze, but reached out, offering the man the apple. Since he had not fed on that day.
"The truth is, I've never been able to kill people with it." Tyrion answered, while Sandor only looked at the apple with his face closed, still walking a little behind Clarie, "It's yours, Sir, please take it," she insisted while they were still walking. She had never been grateful to take Joffrey out of his quarters, and he had tried in vain to be kind to the man.
"Still." Sir Bronn said. " So I have a job." Tyrion still walking, heard Sir continue. "What about your father?"
"He will not send a crow for weeks." Tyrion sighed deeply. "You're very busy. Being humiliated over and over again by Robb Stark consumes his time." He said.
"Hello, little Lady." Tyrion can hear, and looked back, seeing a middle-aged man stroking the face of Lady Clarie, who retreated, but the man approached once more, standing just inches from Lady. One of his eyes was white, he looked half-blind, and he had a crooked smile on his lips, wicked.
"Get down, if you like your head fixed to the neck," Sandor growled, holding the handle of his sword, while the other, a bite mace. The man was startled to notice Dog there, and recoiled, falling on the floor, startled, as he watched him laugh, and lightly pat Clarie on her back to make her walk again.
"We can not protect the city against Stannis." Tyrion looked back. "Not the way Joffrey intends to do." And then a noise of people saluting and shouting in agreement echoed, and Tyrion slowed down, watching the multitude that prevented them from continuing the walk.
"Everyone is! We are proud, envious, unclean. The man Above a few crates," he said, and the small crowd shouted in agreement, while Sandor and Clarie slowed their steps, walking at the same slow speed of Tyrion, watching what happened. "Brother fornicates with his sister in the house of kings, and we are surprised that the fruit of this incest is rotten. More than howls of approval, and then Tyrion finally stopped, and the others followed. "A rotten king!"
Difficult to argue with this statement. Tyrion said, and Sir Bronn gave a short laugh as the man had said. It was always good to have someone as good-tempered as Bronn around.
"Not after what he did with the book he gave him," Bronn replied, still smiling, but Tyrion remained fascinated by the people, while the other two remained silent, devouring their maces.
"The king is a lost cause. " Tyrion paused. "It's with us that I'm worried now. " He said simply, his voice serious but still amused by what he heard.
"... A dancing king, bouncing through its blood-stained halls, controlled by a deformed, demonic monkey. " The crowd laughed, and Tyrion laughed at them, finding it extremely hilarious.
"I admire their imagination." And suddenly all three of them who followed Tyrion laughed, each in its own shape, and then Sandor leaned forward, debauched
"He's talking about you." Tyrion's expression broke, becoming indignant as she looked at the others.
"What?! "He asked, still indignant. "Demonic mob?" He questioned as high as his eyebrows, amazed at what Sandor had said.
"The people think that you manipulate the king." Sir Bronn said and looked at Tyrion, who looked back at the crowd, and again at Bronn, incredulous.
"Blame you for the diseases of the city. " Clarie said, biting the apple again. Varys said," I'm surprised you do not know, My Lord."
"Do they blame me? I'm trying to save them. " Tyrion said demonstrating the true absurdity that was for him. He was obviously the only one who really cared for the people within the small county, and yet he was guilty of the people's lack of interest in his people.
"No need to try to convince us." He said, walking again, and Sandor and Clarie followed, while Tyrion still looked at them as they walked away.
"Fucking demonic." He said, still indignant, walking again so he could accompany them on the crossing of the crowd. They walked, listening to the man speaks, barely noticing when the man began to point at them, shouting anything. Tyrion feared, standing next to Bronn.
"Kings, queens, lords and Ladies!" The man shouts, still pointing to them, that they slowed their steps with the intensity of the crowd around them. The man was still shouting his speech as the others shouted more hateful words and began to fence around them, threatening and gnashing their teeth. "They despise us, they ignore us! They must all die!" It was impossible to walk between them, and then they threatened to come upon them, scratching them, and then Sandor and Sir Bronn unsheathed their swords, and Dog drew the Lady under his arm, giving him greater facility to protect him, and Sir Bronn approached Tyrion, pointing his sword at anyone who threatened to advance.
"Come on, no one needs to lose their heads," Bronn said, smiling at them, lifting his sword. "But if you like, I'm sure it will please me and the Hound a lot, after all, I assure you, it will not be our heads that have rolled." He smiled as he watched people retreat after Hunting Dog raised his sword as if he were going to cut someone. "Thank you." He said and walked beside Tyrion, and Sandor still had her under his arm, following Bronn, past the crowd, looking at them, thirsting for blood, but they knew that they would really lose their heads if they advanced.
Tyrion entered the room with Littlefinger, while Sandor, Bronn sat in armchairs, waiting. Tyrion had said it would not be long, so they stood there sipping wine. It was not long, and three half-naked women entered the space, and Clarie looked at them. Not surprisingly, it was to be expected that some women would come to meet Sandor and Bronn.
A brown-haired, smiling brown-haired woman went toward the nearest, Bronn, who opened his arms, receiving the woman with good pleasure. The second sat on Sandor's lap, drank his wine, and seemed indifferent to the woman in his lap, almost wanting to drive her away. The third and last, she walked over to Clarie, who looked at her, smiling and shaking her hands as if to say no.
"Do not you want to, Lady Clarie?" She asked, smiling back. "I am a woman, I know more than anyone to please a woman." She said, and Sandor laughed, taking the woman off him.
"It would be exciting to see this scene. " He growled, looking at them in his usual debauchery, and the woman smiled at Sandor, and sat down on Clarie, sealing his lips to hers, widening his eyes.
"Bronn, my parchment," Tyrion said from the door, and at this point, Clarie had already closed her eyes, and she felt her tongue dance in her mouth. She was out of action, did not know how to push her, or if he left her there, then just shook hands, in a request for guidance, for help.
"Wait, this is a scene I want to finish," Bronn said, leaning forward, as Sandor looked at them, deciding what he would do. Tyrion looked at the scene, intrigued, and would tell the woman to leave her, but Sandor pulled her out of her lap, pushing her towards Bronn, who murmured in disappointment but accepting the other woman willingly. "Your parchment." Bronn murmured, tossing the parchment to the dwarf. "I really hope Littlefinger has the money to finance the war after you've ruined this scene."
"She's a child, Bronn, do not forget. " Tyrion said before closing the door, and seeing Sandor throwing himself at Clarie's side, drinking all the wine from his glass, filling it again, while Bronn murmured a "No, it's not."
"Please, Sir, do not drink so much." She asked, looking ahead, recovering from what had happened, ignoring Bronn and the three euphoric women in her lap.
"Are you afraid he cannot protect you?" He laughed without looking at her, paying attention to the women laughing in his lap. "Do not worry, I'll protect you. " He paused. "Longer for him to hurt you?" He still did not look at them, laughing. "I'll protect you. It will be an hour to kill Sandor Clegane." Sandor started to get up, but Clarie put his arm in front of Dog, afraid that they would kill themselves there.
"Sandor and the name, then?" She asked quietly, in fear, and the burned knight leaned back against the couch, staring Bronn down at him, murmuring only "Dog." "Why do you let them call you Dog, not Sir?" She tried to keep herself occupied, just as Sandor, who up to that moment, was looking at the angry Bronn, who seemed not to hear them anymore, occupying his mouth with those of the women, and his ears with the inappropriate whispers. The dog looked at her, finally interested in the words of the young woman, who did not seem so interested.
"I like dogs more than the knights ..." He paused, and Clarie finally looked at him, but pertinently avoided his eyes to his scars. She did not believe he would actually respond, but she was interested. "A dog will die for you, and never lie to you." And he'll look right in your eyes. He said, and Clarie realized he was looking him in the eye, and looked away, feeling the fear.
"It's all right, then". Tyrion said, standing beside Littlefinger, who nodded silently as Dog stood up beside Clarie.
The door opened, and a young woman passed by, with golden hair and white skin and blue eyes and a very rosy mouth, very well dressed to be some Petyr official. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Tyrion
"Erica? Tyrion frowned down at her. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, my Lord, at King's Landing or the brothel?" She asked, recovering from the surprise and laughter. "I went back with Cousin Cersei and Jaime." She said, walking again, and soon Jaime appeared in his field of vision, and Tyrion smiled, receiving a smile back.
"Jaime." Tyrion said, and Jaime passed Erica, bending down to hug him. "They returned, no crows. " He said, looking at his brother.
"We sent crows once, and Robb got these." Jaime clarified with his golden hand. "We will not send it this time."
"Beautiful hand. " Tyrion said with a final smile. "Trio of gold, the Dwarf, Regicida handle, and crazy." He said, heading for the door. "Erica. " She weighed in the girl, and Sandor and Clarie began to walk, while Clarie looked at Jaime and Erica.
