Well well well, I have to admit I was so thrilled to receive those Reviews! I would liked to see the story last as well, I have so many ideas!
Fire.
That was the only word Sandor could think about as he left the Red Keep and reached one of the main streets. Everyone was screaming and running. He saw the flames destroy the houses, parents calling for their children, men crowling on their knees as fire was burning their back. He could see the pain around him. The rage. The fear. Chaos. And most of all, he could sniff it. This horrible and putrid smell of a human flesh burning. Sandor knew this smell, it had never left his life, it had haunted him in his nightmares. And now, it was here.
He felt Arya shiver in his hands, and it automatically brought him back to the present. He had to find somewhere to hide. But how do you hide from a damn dragon? He looked as the sky, and saw dark wings soar over the air. The smoke was everywhere, it was impossible to see. Suddenly, raging flames blew up in the distance, and Sandor took this chance to run at the other end of the mess. His race led him in to one of the small alleys around the Keep. He knew it would collapse soon, but he also knew the building was near the sea, and for now it seemed to be the best place to be away from the crowd and the noise. He had to try. He checked one last time where the creature was, and ran as fast as he could, hoping no one would find him.
But if he had thought the streets were empty, he was wrong. He saw a woman holding her child against her. She pounced on him at his sight.
« Please! » she begged. « Please, Ser! Help us! »
I am no Ser.
He had no time for this. It was every man for himself now. Sandor ignored the woman as he glanced at Arya. Luckily, her eyes were still open. He needed to clean the wound - even to stitch it -, to bring her water, shelter. Inexplicably, the stranger managed to grab him by the arm.
« Please Ser! We need...»
« Don't touch me, you damn tramp! » he yelled at her, his eyes full of rage. « Go find another Ser to help you. »
She said nothing in return, still in shock, and he left her here to run towards the sea. Everything was falling apart, everything was dust, fire, blood and smoke. How could they let this happen? He had fought beside this Dragon Queen, this woman everyone was praising. He had seen what her people would do for her. He had seen thousands of Dothraki gallop towards the shadows to fight the Army of the Dead, the majority of them being slaughtered in the process. He had seen the men who followed her. Arya's brother, the « King in the North », the Imp, Lord Varys, Ser Davos Seaworth, Ser Jorah Mormont. They were clever men. How could they let this happen?
Sandor's mind was boiling. He wanted it to end. He looked at the sky and saw ashes falling from it. He could not breathe. As he reached the end of the street, he heard a loud crack and felt the ground vibrate for the millionth time. He looked on his left to see three of the main towers of the Red Keep fall down. He heard distant screams and saw a thick smokescreen raise after the crash. Arya tried to rise her head up at the sound, but he managed to hold her still against his chest. Even though she was silent, Sandor felt relieved to see that she had not fainted. He knew it was a bad sign when someone fainted after a head wound. He looked at what was left of the Keep, and could not help but think about his brother. Was he dead already?
Ser Gregor Clegane, called The Mountain, killed by a huge pile of bricks.
It sounded amusing.
He slowed down when he saw a group of citizens run towards him. They were looking behind them, the scare on their faces proving they were fleeing something. Sandor hid behind the first thing he found: an abandonned carriage situated next to one of the walls. He put his right hand over Arya's mouth - just in case - and continued to apply pressure on her head with the left one in order to stop the bleeding. He had started to do it the moment he left the Keep. He knew it hurt her, but he had no choice. He observed the people continue to run and scream, and he heard men's loud laughters approach. Then, he saw a dozen of soldiers walking as a horde, their swords covered with blood. He squinted to see who they were, and rapidly noticed they were wearing black and thick armours as well as furs.
Starks' soldiers.
They were smiling and laughing as if they were just hunting into the woods. For all of his life, Sandor had believed that the only people capable of honor in Westeros were the Northmen. Another disillusionment. He looked at Arya. He could hear she was trying to speak beneath his hand.
« Hold on, girl, » he told her quietly, « I found your brother's men. »
He saw the glint of hope in her eyes and she slowly nodded against his chest. He let go of his hand and rose up, still carrying her in his arms. He made his way towards the soldiers, indifferent from the crowd running in the opposite direction. As he approached them, he saw two soldiers wearing red armours, a golden lion right on their epaulettse. Lannisters. They were definitely outnombered and were defeated and killed just before one of the Northmen turned over to see the shape of a tall man bearing something in his hands. The dust was too thick and he could not truly see what it was. As he squinted, he saw that the man was hurrying to them, and noticed a huge scar deforming the half of his face. He knew this scar. He knew these aggressive eyes. He knew who the man was.
Sandor Clegane. The Hound.
The latter approached him, his jaw clenched.
« Where is your king? » he asked between his teeth.
« Hound, » said one of the other soldiers. « We did not know you were here as well! Wanna help us killing these Lannister bastards? »
« I asked you a question, » Sandor said. He looked like an animal ready to rip their head off.
He felt Arya stuggle between his fingers. All the men looked shocked when they saw her.
« Is that... »
« Aye, » The Hound interrupted. « That's Arya Stark. »
« What is she doing here? » asked one of them.
« None of your bloody business. A stone hit her head. She's stunned. Now tell me which path you took so I can reach her brother. »
« Jon Snow is on the other side of the city with the leader of the Unsullied Army. »
Fuck, Sandor thought. Another wall fell right next to them, taking all of them by surprise.
« I need to make her leave this place! » Sandor yelled after the collision.
« Aye, » answered the oldest soldier. « There is a small cove. The streets lead to it. We were there before starting the attack. »
Before Sandor could answer, he saw the men look just behind him, their eyes locked on the sky. He turned his head an what he saw frightened him. Two large and dark wings growing up in the air, with one of the most bestial cry he had ever heard. The Northmen retreated in one of the destroyed buildings, and all The Hound could focus on was the speed in his legs. He ran until he was out of breath, hearing the endless screams and explosions surrounding his head. He felt a strong heat brush his back.
No, I won't die like that.
By chance, the heat stopped, and he heard a loud whir as the dragon turned over to reach the Keep. He glanced back one last time, only to see the place he had been just a few minutes before. Everything was destroyed by hellfire. But what happened next startled him even more. The red flames were rapidly joined by huge green ones that seemed to emerge from the depth of the city. Wildfire. Sandor felt his heart race and his breathe stop. For a moment, he was there again. He had seen this bloody capital burn, once. During the Battle of Blackwater Bay. During the night he had left King's Landing, left his king, left his men. Fire was his worst fear, and what he had seen with Wildfire was by far worst than anything else.
« Sandor? »
The weak voice that called his name made him snap out of it. He realised he had let his hand go of her mouth. He looked at the girl he was holding, her eyes seemed to be focused this time. He said nothing to her and continued his way towards one of the other alleys, still choosing to walk on the main road, for everything else could break down. He could see one of the famous stairs that were leading to the sea, but it seemed to be far away...
Arya was trying her best to remember what had happened, but everything was too blurry. She was overwhelmed by a thousand of voices and thoughts that were whispering in her head. Fire. Rage. No one. Daenerys Targaryen. Winterfell. Cersei. Dragon. Night King. Anytime she was tring to stand up, she was immobilised by a powerful grip. All she could see was Sandor's face as he was walking slowly in the middle of the crowd, sometimes looking at her in a hurry. Everything had seemed to be so quiet, as if the Gods had decided to slow down the measurement of time. But now, all she could hear was a loud ringing in her ears, and as she tried to make it stop, she realised where she was. King's Landing. She looked around her and saw people running. Why were they running? She noticed the pile of stones and the dust in the air. What had happened? Suddenly, the ringing stopped as she heard her own voice in her head saying: « I'm going to kill Cersei Lannister. » She struggled even more. She had to kill her.
« Stop it, you moron! » She heard Sandor growl. But she did not care.
« Let go of me! » she yelled with all her voice.
Before she could say anything else, she was on her feet, her back strongly held against a wall, and two dark and raging eyes looking at her. She could feel his hand pressing the top of her head, and it was terribly painful. As she tried to send his hand away, she felt his grip tighten around her arm.
« You're bleeding! » The Hound squealed. « You're not stopping bleeding, and this fucking city is on fire! Now you listen to me. » He approached his head to meet her gaze: « The streets are full of flames and killers - nothing is safe anymore! All I'm trying to do is to reach a safer place. You keep your fucking mouth shut or I swear to the Gods I will shut you up myself! »
Arya could not hear every word he had pronounced, but she saw fear in his eyes. She wanted to go. She had to kill Cersei. Nothing was making sense anymore. Her instincts were telling her to escape this place, all she could hear was a constant roar, and it frightened her more than anything she had known before. As she tried once again to get rid of his grip, she saw him turn over his head. In the distance, a man screamed as if he was about to launch an attack. The Hound released her and she saw him unsheathe his sword. A few seconds later, a Dothraki charged Sandor with his horse, his crescent sword waving in the air.
She tried to reach him, but after a few steps, she felt her feet tangle under her legs and tumbled. Her hands and knees hurt as they scraped against the gravelled ground. She lifted her head to see Sandor fight the Dothraki. He was growling as a beast, trying his best disarm him. But the other man definitely knew how to use a sword. Even on his mount, he seemed unreachable. She had to do something. She could not watch Sandor being defeated. She let out a scream of furor as she stood up, feeling her body shake like a leaf. The Dothraki heard her and turned over her, a mischievious smile grew on his lips at the sight of a young and wild woman covered with blood. Sandor knew what he was thinking about, and this infuriated him even more. He charged the man with all his strength and grabbed him by the hair - fortunately, Dothraki wear it very long - and pulled so strongly he thought the scalp would leave the top of his head. The man wailed as he lost his balance, and before his feet could touch the ground, he was dead, Sandor's blade running right through his heart.
The Hound pushed the dead body out of the horse and tried his best to calm the animal. He grasped the reins and forced the beast to stand still. He looked at Arya as the horse stopped neighing. Her lips shivered and she gave him the most undecipherable look. Was it anger he was seeing? Relief? Pain? A silent thank-you? He could not tell. But he hurried as he saw fresh blood flow over her temple - the wound had reopened. He caught her before her head reached the floor, and damned all the Gods he knew when he realized she had fallen unconscious.
They surrendered.
Jon tried his best to find a way out of the mess. Half of his men were still fighting against the Lannister soldiers, some of them were on the other side of the city, as they were supposed to enter the Keep and capture Cersei if anything went wrong. But everything went wrong. He continued to order his men to stand still, but he could see the rage in their eyes, their need to be avenged from all the harm House Lannister had done to the North. How could they not see that it was not the point anymore? Innocent people were slaughtered right in front of him, and Jon perfectly knew his men did not care about them either. He saw Greyworm fight a few meters in front of him, leading the Unsullied to kill any man wearing red and golden armor. This was not supposed to happen. Dany was supposed to stop after the ringing of the bells.
Jon gathered his men behind him and ordered them not to attack. Northmen had never killed innocent - they protected them, they were a shield. He shared a concerned look with Ser Davos, and then he saw great green flames explode. This was only beginning.
What have we done?
Tyrion felt incapable to move as he was seeing the catastrophy occuring right in front of him. The bells had been rung. The city had surrendered. It was done. Why was Drogon breathing fire over millions of innocent people? Did Dany give the order?
She is not her Father, he thought. She is not Aerys. She is good, clever and patient. She can't do this.
But he could not deny what he was seeing. Fire everywhere, screams, and the bells still ringing in the distance.
Where was Jaime? Had he managed to reach Cersei? Were they safe? He saw another of the Red Keep walls fall in a chaotic row. He could not believe this was happening. He was her Hand. He was her main advisor, and now all he could do was to watch her turn the Royal Capital of the Seven Kingdoms into ashes. He closed his eyes and silently wished his brother was safe. He wanted this to be over. He could not tell how long he stayed here, in front of the destroyed wall. He had to move. He had to see. He had to find his brother. Jaime was supposed to bring Cersei to a cove under the Red Keep. Tyrion knew exactly where it was. But could he abandon his post? He chuckled with bitterness as he heard Drogon's roar. After all, he was not the only one who was breaking a promise. He felt his heart stop as he realized that the screams had stopped. He looked at the Keep and saw it was nothing but a deformed building. Some of the Dothraki reached the gate, brandishing their swords and shouting in victory.
What a victory.
Although he was close to the cove, Sandor had decided to go to the opposite side of the sea. Arya had fainted. Going to a quieter place did not matter anymore. She needed treatment, and she needed it now. He knew the best help she could receive was Jon Snow, and so he had mounted a Dothraki horse and cross the city as quick as he could, still holding the Stark girl against his chest, holding her with his left arm - the one holding the rein - and holding his sword on the other one. He was doing his best to keep his balance despite the fact the mount had no saddle. Damn Dothraki. The task had been perilous and violent, but he had tried anyway. At first, he had repelled any people who had been on his way, indifferent of their situation, their tears, their wounds. He had to be fast. But rapidly, as he reached the center, he realized there was nobody left. He was alone. Grey and white ashes were falling from the sky, recovering every stone, board, tile and body left.
It was as if it was snowing. As if Winter had come. He looked at Arya and saw her eyes wide open once again. She was as silent as a toddler, but he noticed the emotion in her glance as she observed the ashes slowly falling. He heard another shout from the dragon and saw its shadowy shape land on what was left of the Red Keep. It was done. The majority of the city was destroyed. He did not stop of all that. He had to bring the girl to her brother. He managed to lead the horse towards one ofthe main walls from which he had assumed the siege had started.
Everything was quiet when the dragon stopped breathing fire over King's Landing. Only the Dothraki were loudly celebrating their victory. The Unsullied started to line up and make their way towards the Keep, where their Queen and her dragon was. The Northmen were mostly gathered around the main walls of the city, waiting for their King to give the orders. Ser Davos had try to decipher his King's thoughts, but Jon had withdrawn into himself. He saw Lord Tyrion arrive, and the man's eyes were as sad as Jon's. As Davos was about to talk, they all heard the quick sound of hooves against the stone of the ground. The man squinted as his vision was blurred by the dust in the air. Tyrion was the first to see. A man was mounting a white Dothraki horse whose white coat was covered with fresh blood. It took him only a few seconds to recognise Sandor Clegane. As the latter alighted from the horse, he realised he was holding something in his arms - or rather someone.
Tyrion saw Jon rush towards the man, pushing all the men on his path. The Lannister shared a troubled look with Ser Davos as they both recognised who the person was. It was Arya Stark.
« What happened? » Jon asked as he carefully caressed his sister's face. The latter looked at him with an empty expression, a tear of pain going down her cheek. Her face was full of blood and bruises. Tyrion had no idea she was here. In fact, nobody knew.
The Hound explained everything as Jon took Arya in his arms, his eyes full of anger.
« We need to bring her to the camp. She needs a maester's help. »
Sandor said nothing as he watched the Stark bastard leave to reach the other side of the burst wall alongside Ser Davos. He felt all the eyes on him, and as everyone started to go back to what he was doing, Sandor saw all the things he had done to manage to reach this place of the city, all the people he had pushed away, all the men he had killed or trampled on. He thought the Battle of the Blackwater was the most traumatic thing he had ever experienced. He was wrong.
« Thank you for your help, Clegane. »
As he looked around him, he saw The Imp looking at him, a thankful smile on his cheeks. Although Tyrion had been the only one to thank him, Sandor was definitely not in the mood to be acclaimed.
« Now you explain to me what's the meaning of all of this, » he said to Tyrion, his voice full of hate. « Tell me, Imp. Since when do we burn people alive to get rid of their bloody Queen? »
Tyrion's eyes betrayed his sadness, and Sandor assumed he was not behind this. After all, the Lannister had also seen Wildfire flames destroy the city during the Battle of the Blackwater.
« Trust me, Hound, » he answered, « I have never wanted this. »
« It doesn't matter what you wanted or hoped for, » Sandor growled, « now thousands of people are dead, and the woman you call Dragon Queen can sit on her fucking Iron Throne. »
He left the Imp in his misery and made his way to reach the camp. He needed to drink, and to drink a lot. But as he walked, he saw a soldier reach Tyrion.
« My Lord, your brother was found alive near the shore. »
« Bring him to the camp, » Tyrion ordered.
Sandor felt his hands clench as the soldier answered:
« He's seriously wounded, my Lord. The Mountain almost killed him. »
I really wanted to describe Jon and Tyrion's reactions, for we know they wanted to be merciful. Please Review!