Sandor
There was a buzz in court gossip. Apparently a maid and a Septa from Clegane's Keep had both escaped alive after Ser Gregor's latest violent outrage. They were rushed in and treated promptly by maesters, and were supposed to appear in front of the king once their injuries were treated.
The throne room was busier than usual. Sandor stood in place as people filed in. A flash of red caught his eye and he spotted Defyra Redwyne standing in the gallery where she'd have a good view.
Jon Arryn entered the throne room, followed by two pale-faced women that had seen better days. They were both heavily bandaged up and the old Septa had a nasty black eye.
"Your Grace, these are the women that have come from Clegane's Keep. Mina Hill is a maid. And this is Septa Cora." As Jon Arryn announced them, they both curtsied deeply despite their injuries.
"Rise and tell us what has happened." Robert looked solemn with a furrow in his brow. Beside him, Cersei looked perplexed.
Both women slowly rose and Septa Cora stepped forward.
"Ser Gregor has killed his wife and newborn baby, Your Grace."
There was a moment of dead silence before a clash of voices buzzed through the throne room. Sandor took a deep breath, feeling seething anger at hearing this.
"Silence!" The King's voice boomed. Quiet swept the room. "You both saw this?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Several servants tried to stop it but he killed or injured most of them as well. He...ripped the babe in half...and did nearly the same to his wife. The child was female and he was very enraged by that."
Hatred was choking Sandor now. He could never begin to fathom what perverse thoughts ran through Gregor's mind as he committed these atrocious murders. He needed to be stopped. He needed to be snuffed out. Sandor's mind went back to all those years ago, hearing, feeling, smelling the sizzle of coals on flesh…
Jon Arryn started proclaiming, "There must be justice for this carnage--"
"Let me, Your Grace." Sandor knelt in front of the King, bowing his head. "I will bring justice to the House Ambrose and my own."
"But you're his brother!" protested Jon Arryn. Sandor turned his glare to the Hand.
"This brother of mine has killed his own father and sister in the past. He has already killed two wives. I would see justice served for this and his other recent crimes." His voice came out tight, his mind replaying demented memories of years past.
A wave of murmurs washed across the room. So many gazes were upon him now, making him want to squirm and lean his head to make his locks fall over his scars. Instead, he simply held his stance, kneeling reverently before the King. He was the Hound, after all. He wondered for a split second, howshewas gazing upon him. He dashed the thought away as quickly as it came. She'd be gawking like the rest, shocked that this man was willing to engage in such a dark affair as murdering his own blood.
"House Ambrose would also want justice for losing a daughter and granddaughter," said Lord Avery Ambrose, stepping forward. "I have a group of 30 that are willing to help."
"Very well," said King Robert. "Rise, Clegane. Take 100 men and ride out tonight. Gregor Clegane is stripped of all lands and titles and is to be executed for his crimes. Do so in my stead."
"Yes, Your Grace." Sandor stood and sheathed his sword. He immediately left the throne room, followed by several men intent to accompany him. He walked ahead of everyone, fuming silently in his thoughts. He stopped in the midst of the main courtyard. Sandor turned towards them and some were brave enough to come closer to hear what he was inevitably about to say.
"First off, let me make this clear. No one fights Gregor Clegane except for me. Don't fucking get in my way. I don't know how many men he has, but cut all the fuckers down if they resist." There was a blank silence as some of the more refined gentlemen deigned to look offended by his language. He glared at them.
"Here, here!" Avery Ambrose spoke up. "My brothers and I will fight in honor of our sister, wrongly taken from us! We offer you 30 men."
"Clegane. I will ride along," said Jaime Lannister, joining the group of men. "Your brother was supposed to be acting under the Lannister name as bannerman. I will renounce him in my father's stead. And I can add 50 men. "
"Good thing I can spare 20 men!" Beric Dondarrion spoke up where he had been leaning against a pillar. "That now makes a full party to witness Clegane vs. Clegane!" Sandor just rolled his eyes at that comment.
"Fine. Gather our groups at the stables at sundown. We will ride out tonight."
Defyra
She stood with the other Ladies outside the stables to see off the hundred men accompanying Sandor to his task. It was dark, which made it all the more difficult to spot him. She caught a glimpse of him astride his black horse before he was leading the other men out the city gates. Soon, the entire group was out of sight and the farewell procession headed to their respective bedchambers for the night.
She sighed as she lay restless in bed, worrying herself over a man that she only had five minutes of conversation with. She thought back to earlier, to the terrifying expression on his face as he knelt before the king, vowing to murder his own brother. It was a stark contrast to the stoic demeanor he often had while accompanying the Royal Family in the throne room. It contrasted the man that had adamantly insisted she keep away from the dark spaces of King's Landing.
She remembered his dark eyes, how she never sensed any ill will from them.
How they looked almost weary and forlorn. It made him look beyond his years.
"Please, let him come back," she whispered into the air, to whichever god felt generous enough to grant her prayer. She would hate to be haunted by those eyes.
Sandor Clegane and his men returned two days later, trailing a wagon carrying what was unmistakably the huge body of the Mountain, covered with a large sheet. Sandor and a handful of the men that accompanied him visited the throne room. This group included Jaime Lannister, Beric Dondarrion, and a few Ambrose men.
Defyra stood with Lady Grace and Lady Bethany as she always did, gazing raptly at what was going on. Her eyes found him, silently running over his form. There was a jagged gash on the right side of his face going from temple to jaw. His armor was in disarray, bloody, dented, and in shambles. The left shoulder plate looked as if it had been torn off and he had that arm in a sling. He looked like he had tumbled through all seven hells. She took a moment to thank all the gods, for it looked like they all had a part in keeping this man alive. None of the men that stood with him looked as bad as he did. But still, there was a different air to him now. She couldn't quite place it.
"House Ambrose will be forever grateful for the justice sent forth for our fallen daughter and her child!" said Avery Ambrose. "Sandor Clegane fought valiantly against his brother's men and did not allow anyone to engage Gregor Clegane. He was the man that carried out the execution in the name of the King. All of us that stand before you have witnessed it."
Jaime Lannister stepped forward.
"I renounced Gregor Clegane as Lannister bannerman as his charges were being read to him," said Jaime. "He then tried to harm me by throwing a hatchet at my head. A skirmish between the two parties broke out and Sandor immediately engaged Gregor in direct combat."
"That battle was a long and harrowing one, which finally ended with Gregor Clegane beheaded," said Beric, continuing the testimony. "There were many times where it seemed like the Hound would be lost, but he fought through the blood and pain valiantly."
A flurry of hushed voices talked amongst themselves about what they had just heard.
"It really should have happened sooner," said Defyra quietly. "executing the Mountain. More lives could have been saved. But I don't think anyone but the Hound would've had the motivation to do it."
"I for one am relieved that there were no deaths on our side," said Lady Grace. "It would have been devastating to lose Ser Jaime or if the Hound didn't make it."
"Denys told me they took out the rogue bannermen following the Mountain as well. They made traveling dangerous in those parts. Looting from travelers and raping women at inns," said Lady Bethany.
The King conferred with Jon Arryn for several minutes before nodding.
"Sandor Clegane, please kneel (as you're able, with those injuries) in front of your king to be knighted," said Jon Arryn.
There was a short pause in which Sandor stayed where he was.
"I mean no disrespect to my king, but I do not wish to have knighthood." a wave of whispers washed over the crowd. Defyra's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"What?" hissed Lady Bethany. "He'd be perfect for it."
"That's most unusual," breathed Lady Grace.
"Why not?" asked King Robert, sounding as confused as everyone else.
"My brother was a knight. I do not want to follow that path," said Sandor solemnly. She could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind.
"Well...that land is vacant now. Why not take possession of it?" said Robert, gesturing as if offering a food platter.
"I would take it, if that's what Your Grace wills." The expression on Sandor's face mirrored the disbelief that the entire room had felt when he had refused knighthood moments before.
Robert nodded at Jon Arryn. "Jon, would you do the honor?" Jon Arryn stepped forward and cleared his throat before speaking.
"It is by the wish of Your Grace that his loyal servant Sandor Clegane be at once raised to the rank of Lord and be granted the lands of House Clegane. His sons and grandsons shall hold this honor after him until the end of time."
Sandor bowed. She saw him flinch and lay a hand on his ribs.
"Now, go get your injuries looked at," said Robert in a kind tone. "We'll have a feast in your honor tonight." Sandor nodded and turned to leave.
Defyra walked slowly towards the exit, pacing herself to 'just happen' to approach the doors just as The Hound did. Several men clapped him on his good shoulder as he walked past and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. She stepped into his path and he looked slightly apprehensive to see her.
"My Lord, I am glad you returned safe," she said, smiling gently as she curtsied. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I am hard to kill, my Lady." He bowed his head to her, and she saw just how nasty the gash in the right side of his head was. She gasped in spite of herself and he quickly angled that side away from her. "I am fine, my Lady. I'm off to see what parts of me they can still patch up."
"Hopefully all the important parts are still attached," she said with a twist of humor. She cringed internally and felt an admonishing poke from Lady Grace behind her.
"Trust me, Lady Defyra...I'm no Lord Varys," he said, his face stoic but his eyes alight with mirth. He bowed his head to her companions and made his leave.
She only allowed herself to giggle after they had parted ways after exiting the throne room.
Later that evening, Defyra walked with her friends to the banquet hall. Lots of people were in attendance. She scanned the hall but didn't see the guest of honor.
"I wonder if he's skipped out," she said out loud.
"Looking to bother him again already?" teased Lady Grace. "I'll be surprised if he shows." They seated themselves at a table and were quickly approached by Denys and two of his fellow squires.
"Mind if we join you?" asked Denys, grinning at Lady Bethany. She returned the grin.
"I certainly don't mind," she said. Denys sat across from her and immediately started conversation. Defyra and Lady Grace turned to the other two, Radley and Adan, smiling politely.
"Do you want the redhead or the brown-haired one?" Radley whispered loudly to Adan. The women exchanged glances.
"No matter what you want, you won't be getting it," said Defyra, crossing her arms. Lady Grace hid a laugh in her hand.
"My apologies, miss," said Radley, looking slightly guilty.
"He's always joking like this, miss," said Adan.
"Miss? You should address us as 'My Lady.' Who do you squire for?" Defyra normally wouldn't pull her status, but the boys' behavior did not sit well with her.
"Ser Meryn Trant," said Radley.
"Ser Mandon Moore," said Adan.
"Do they not teach you how to conduct yourselves?" asked Lady Grace. Radley merely shrugged. Adan ignored her and engaged his friend in small talk. Further up the table, Lady Bethany and Denys seemed to be hitting it off well. Defyra and Lady Grace sat further down the table to avoid the young squires.
"Oh, good, the wine is coming." Defyra watched as servants started to cart in wine jugs and cheeses as they waited for the feast to start. The ladies sat apart from the squires and enjoyed their wine.
The Royal Family soon filed in at the High Table. Sandor trailed behind Tyrion, sitting at the very end of the table. He sported a simple, clean, white tunic and brown trousers. His wounds had been dressed, and he still had his left arm in a sling. Next to Tyrion in his scarlet velvet tunic, he didn't look much like a Lord. The King raised a toast to him and everyone drank.
Defyra had a clear view of him during the feast. Wellwishers came up to him and he never ceased in his eating while they talked to him. He seemed to give short answers, if he even spoke to them. They usually didn't stay long.
"Good gods," hiccuped Lady Grace suddenly. Defyra looked at her friend, concerned.
"Are you okay, dear?" Lady Grace looked at her, red-faced.
"There is a man across the way that keeps staring over here," said Lady Grace, nodding at a point over Defyra's shoulder. Defyra, never one for subtlety, turned immediately to look. Sure enough, she met the gaze of a familiar pair of eyes. She smirked.
"It's alright. I know that devil," she said. "Come on, I'll introduce you." They stood and Defyra led the way to where the man sat.
"My Ladies," he said, grinning when they approached. "Please sit and join me." Defyra stayed put, and Lady Grace followed her lead.
"Lady Grace, this is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne," she introduced. Lady Grace curtsied and Oberyn bowed his head to her with a wink. "His family's wine is in direct competition with my family's wine. One must know what one's rivals are up to.. Which is probably why he was staring."
"There's no mistaking the Redwyne hair," he said. "Come on. Why don't you sit? We should catch up."
"No need, I've only stopped by to ask you--how are you liking the wine?"
Oberyn chuckled.
"If I had only come for the wine, I'd be extremely dissatisfied," he said, a large smirk on his face. Lady Grace shrank back a little, worried about Defyra's reaction.
"Oh, what a shame," said Defyra, unphased. She grabbed the jug he was drinking from and noted it was nearly gone. "Why are you really here, Prince?"
"I received a raven. The man who killed Elia was finally brought to justice. I was surprised to learn it was his own brother. I came to pay respects." He nodded towards the High Table and she turned to see Sandor watching their exchange with a rather stormy expression.
"We should all pay respects since we have his attention," said Lady Grace. Oberyn stood.
"Excellent idea! Shall I escort my ladies?" He offered his arms to them.
"Let us just walk together," said Defyra, keeping a distance from him. They made their way to the High Table. Robert and Cersei looked surprised to see the girls walking with Oberyn. Oberyn paused before striking up a conversation with the Royal couple. Jaime kept a watchful eye behind them. Lady Grace paused to greet and chat with Tyrion. Defyra continued walking until she stood in front of Sandor. His dark eyes watched her approach silently, his expression guarded.
"Lord Sandor," she greeted, curtsying. His lips twitched.
"Lady Defyra," he replied. "What were you doing with the Red Viper?"
"Simply checking up on competition. He always claims to hate our wine, but I noticed his jug is nearly empty."
"He was parched, no doubt. That Dornish shit is too dry," he said, choosing to clearly enunciate the last part just as Oberyn walked up to join them. Defyra bit her lip anxiously, not knowing how Oberyn would react. He simply grinned at Sandor in amusement.
"Sorry to hear that, friend. I would offer you a lifetime supply of it to thank you for bringing my sister's murderer to justice. But I see you prefer a...sweet red." Sandor's eyes snapped on to Oberyn as he gestured to Defyra whilst saying 'sweet red.'
"Aye," said Sandor, staring him down. "That I do." Her face turned a bright shade of red. Oberyn's grin widened and he chuckled.
"I see. I'll leave you to it, then. But remember that you will always be welcome in Dorne for your great deeds, Sandor Clegane." He winked at Defyra before heading back to his table. There was a silence after Oberyn walked away.
Sandor's eyes snapped back onto her, but his gaze softened considerably when he saw the state of her complexion.
"He didn't upset you, did he?" Sandor asked gruffly.
"No," she said, smiling sheepishly. "I just wasn't expecting to feel so...flattered."
"I thought you'd be used to it. Those squires sitting with you aren't doing it?" His lips upturned in an amused smile as he spoke.
"Please," she laughed, "They still act like boys. I would like a man. A man with something to offer, just as I am a woman with something to offer."
"And what would that offering be?" He stared her down, but with a much softer expression than the one he gave Oberyn. His eyes held curiosity.
"You will have to find out for yourself, my Lord," she whispered, leaning forward slightly.
"Are you sure that you want me to," Sandor's eyes studied her face as one would a sculpture. "...my Lady?" She saw emotions flitting behind his gaze. Admiration. Desire. Defiance.
"You have been watching me," she breathed. "You're doing it now. Would you really tell me you don't want to?" She watched him raise his goblet between their gaze and take a gulp.
"You should ask this of a less broken man," he said solemnly, dropping his gaze. She frowned, her gaze falling on the bandaged gash on his face.
"I don't ask for perfection. You've been given a new beginning. And a new beginning is what I'm looking for. It's what I need. Please just consider it." She straightened and he sat back against his chair, his eyes pensive as they stared past her into the air. Lady Grace stepped up, looking between them with a shy smile.
"Lord Sandor, congratulations on your lordship," she said timidly.
"Much thanks, Lady Grace," he said, bowing his head. There was an awkward pause in which Defyra was about to suggest they return to their table, when Lady Grace spoke once more.
"Please forgive me if I overstep, my Lord, but I overheard part of your conversation with my Lady. I thought you should know that Lady Defyra is the kindest friend I have known and that any man that would marry her would be blessed by the Seven for the rest of his life." With that, she curtsied and hurried back to their table, leaving Defyra behind. Defyra gawked after her friend, and then turned back only to flush to the deepest red she's ever gone. Lady Grace's input had not only attracted the attention of the Royal couple, Jaime and Tyrion, but Sandor was looking at her with a peculiar expression. Not knowing what else to say, she curtsied as well, putting a hand to her forehead so as to shield herself from any more prying eyes as she made it back to her table. Lady Grace squeaked as she plopped down on the bench next to her.
"Lady Grace, you are dear to me, but if you ever abandon me while doing a stunt like that again, I'm putting a frog in your afternoon tea!" said Defyra, swatting her friend repeatedly on the shoulder. Lady Grace merely giggled into her goblet.
"What's happened?" Asked Denys. He and Lady Bethany suddenly decided to rejoin the rest of the table.
"I don't believe you want to know, dear brother. Enjoy your night."
"Know what?" prodded Lady Bethany.
"The Hound and Defyra--" started Lady Grace.
"No! Please say no more. I'll face the gossip in the morning!" Denys tossed back the wine in his goblet, looking sick. "Def! I thought I told you not to stir things up while you were here!"
"I made no such promises, brother."