So, I just came back from the U.S. and I wanted to spend some time with my family and friends, but don't worry, I am ready to share this story and to make it grow. I'm so happy to see that you like it!

Jon's legs were as heavy as his guilt as he made his way towards what once had been the Capitol in King's Landing. He had brought Arya to the camp and found a maester to clean her wound. She was awake but did not respond to his sentences and glances. He had try to make her talk, move at least, but nothing had happened. It was as if Arya's mind had left her body, and the idea had terrified him. But Maester Ilmon managed to take care of her case. Although the wound was deep and bloody, the Stark girl was only stunned. She needed medication and rest, but she was out of trouble. Jon had held her head as Ilmon stitched the skinless cut that was now marking the top of her forehead, tracing a red line in the middle of her head. It was not something beautiful to see, but at least it was benign. Arya had grimaced in pain as the needle pierced her flesh, but Jon could tell she had faced much worse in her life. He had left the white tent after Maester Ilmon made her drink some milk of the poppy.

And now, here he was, somehow trying to walk towards his men, incapable to look up. His head was full of horrific images. So many faces. So many people.

All dead.

He could see Arya's face covered with her own blood; this was an image he would never forget. In the distance, he heard a woman weep. He felt his shame intensify. The ashes were slowly falling from the sky, in a very peaceful way, as if they did not come from the raging throat of a dragon. Jon stopped as he saw something as dark as shadows near the main way. His lungs strained after he recognized what it was. It was a dead body. A burned out body, small as a child's one. He felt tears fall over his cheeks and realized he had been crying for quite a long time now. He wanted to hide, to disappear, to leave this place and never come back. He felt bereft, hopeless, alone, as an abandoned child left in the woods.

What would Father think about this?

What a ridiculous question. Eddard Stark would have done something. He would not have trusted a tyrant in the first place, no matter how beautiful and soft she was. He would not have appreciated her, trusted her, loved her. House Targaryen had its own old demons. Jon winced as the truth hit him in the face: he was a Targaryen too. His father, his real father… his reaction would have been different. Rhaegar Targaryen, the man who had abducted a young Lady from the North because he had fallen in love for her, the man who had sacrificed his claim for the Iron Throne to live a life on the run with Lyanna Stark, the man who had caused the Targaryens' downfall, what would he think about this? Jon had no idea.

The Capitol was full of warriors who could not retain their euphoria. Dothraki were yelling on their horses, their sabers twinkling with the reflect of the sparks in the air. Although the Unsullied were mostly remaining silent, one could decipher their smile and the glint of pride in their eyes just beneath their helmets. They had won.

Jon saw Davos talking to Grey Worm under the few steps that were leading to the center of the big square. He sped up, trying his best to avoid all of the glances of his men; he could not face their joy, he could not share it. A dozen of Lannister soldiers were on their knees, fear deforming their faces. Behind them, about twenty Unsullied soldiers were waiting for orders, holding their spears.

"Can't you see it, friend?" Davos said in a pleading tone. "We've won!"

"These men are traitors. They deserve punishment."

"These men belong to the infantry, they were just following the orders. They surrendered!"

"Please, please!" yelled one of the Lannisters' men. "Please, we'll do anything you…"

Before he could end his sentence, Grey Worm had already cut his throat with a speed that surprised everyone. The poor man tried to speak, but the blood in his mouth came out first. In a few seconds, he was dead, a scarlet pool beneath his body. Jon saw the other captives close their eyes and soundlessly recite a prayer.

This had to stop.

"That's enough," Jon yelled. "Where's the Queen? What has she done of her mercy?"

"Mercy?" Grey Worm growled. "Where was mercy when these men's Queen killed Missandei?"

"Where was mercy when your fucking Queen ordered her dragon to burn alive thousands of innocent people?" said a rough voice.

Jon turned around to see the Hound had spoken. Did he just arrive or was he here since the beginning of the quarrel? He could not tell. Grey Worm looked at him with furious eyes. He was in pain, Jon knew it. He could understand his rage. But it could not legitimize the slaughter of all of these people. He needed to talk to Dany.

Sandor silently observed the little snot who was standing in front of him with the Warrior's pride. He knew he was about to charge him.

Come on, move your spear, he thought, I could use a fight right now.

But none of it happened. Davos was already standing in their way, his hands up.

"That's enough, lads," he stated. "We've had enough bloodshed for today."

"You're right," answered Grey Worm. "But not for them."

He looked at the Lannister soldiers. Jon made a step towards him to try to convince him, but the Unsullied leader gave him an angry glance. There was nothing to debate here.

"In the name of Daenerys Targaryen, first of Her Name, I sentence you to die."

The minute after, all of the men's body were inert, their blood covering the ground.

Sandor wanted to punch something. He did not give a damn about the men who had fought for House Lannister - these men were cunts, all of them, and he knew them well enough to state it. But civilians had died for this shit, and nobody was left to mourn them. He watched as Grey Worm left them to climb the stairs towards the big square, probably in order to wait for the Queen's arrival. The Unsullied also left to join the ranks. Jon Snow looked at the dead bodies at his feet, a grave air marking his features. Sandor could tell the man did not want this either. And yet, it had happened.

"What do we do now?" Davos asked. "Our men are tired. Some of them are in shock."

"Most of them are celebrating," Sandor rumbled.

"I need to talk to the Queen." Jon said after a brief moment. "Where's Tyrion?"

"The Imp said the exact same thing before he disappeared", the Hound answered. "You guys seem very confident on the fact that the Targaryen girl would be disposed to talk."

"We're her advisors, she'll listen to us."

"As she listened when the bells rang?"

Jon clenched his jaw. Before he could answer to Clegane's cutting remark, a loud growl broke through the air. All the voices stopped at the exact same time. Everyone looked up to the sky, seeing a dark shadow approach in the smoke. Drogon majestically flew over the mob before landing behind the wrecked walls of the Keep. Jon felt his blood curdle in his veins when Daenerys got off the creature's back. She was beautiful in the light, but there was something that made her look as dangerous as her dragon. She was a dragon. It was painful to see her here. Jon had internally wished she had nothing to do with this, but now it was undeniable.

Sandor frowned as he looked at Daenerys Stormborn. She graciously made her way towards the top of the stairs, her dragon deploying its wings right behind her, and it was as if they were her wings too. She started to speak in a language he couldn't understand, but he silently observed her anyway. Everybody was rejoicing around them. He felt hatred intensify in his mind at the sight of all of these smiles. She had just slaughtered an entire city, and yet she seemed to be proud. The Hound studied the emotions on her face, the triumphant smile on her lips, the fierce glint in her eyes. He had already seen this kind of expression on a human face. King Joffrey had had the same face each time he was watching his soldiers beating Sansa Stark. To a cunt like Joffrey Baratheon, it was a formality, nothing shocking, nothing alarming. He was the King, he could do as he pleased. And this Dragon Queen had done exactly the same. Therefore, she was another tyrant. Jon shared a glance with Davos before climbing the stairs.

The obedient Wolf grovels before the Dragon.

It was awful to see. The Targaryen girl looked at Jon, her eyes glinting with joy, but she rapidly realized her emotions were far from being mirrored. Everything was noisy and blurry, it was unbearable. Sandor wanted to leave this damn city, for good this time. But he could not leave until he knew what had been of his brother. Was he dead already, killed by hundreds of trained Unsullied or suffocated under the pile of bricks that had fallen over his head? Or could he be still alive? The Hound shivered. He knew he would be incapable to leave King's Landing before seeing Gregor's carcass. That, and seeing the Stark girl. He hoped Arya would recover soon. He knew her. She was tough, she was a warrior now. A killer. She had faced the Dead, killed their King, saved Westeros. She could not die like that. Plus, her brother would not have left her if her health was in danger. If there was one thing the Hound knew, it was about the Starks' mutual aid. He had seen how strong they were when they were all together. They truly were a pack, and there was something admirable it that.

The prevailing noise lowered when everyone saw Tyrion Lannister appear behind the Queen. He had walked quietly, but his face was the one of a broken man. Daenerys looked at him as if he was the lamest thing in the Seven Kingdoms. She addressed him in the common language, loudly enough for Davos and Sandor to hear:

"You've freed your brother. You've committed treason."

"I've freed my brother," Tyrion answered before turning at her, "and you slaughtered a city."

The Hound could not believe his ears, either his eyes after the Imp threw his Hand pin away. This action was by far the bravest one he had seen in years. She was a Targaryen, and her dragon was flying in the sky, still roaring in victory. He knew Tyrion was clever, probably the most intelligent man in Westeros, and he also knew he wasn't a coward. The Imp had defended the city from its downfall right in front of the Blackwater Bay. But this, this was not bravery, this was madness.

You're gonna die for this, Sandor thought.

But at least, Tyrion would die honorably. The Hound observed Jon, hoping he would anger too, but nothing happened. The Stark bastard seemed to be incapable to make a decision right now. It was crazy how strongly he looked like his father. He was his bastard, and yet… Eddard had always respected his vows. He had been loyal to King Robert even when it led him to his death. An honorable fool, all in all.

A long silence set up. Daenerys and Tyrion wordlessly considered each other, and when the Dragon Queen ordered something to her soldiers in the Valyrian tongue, Sandor apprehended for Tyrion's death. But none of this happened, and the Imp was taken away instead. Even in her madness, the Targaryen girl seemed to still be fond of the Lannister. She looked at the crowd once more, a defiant smile on her cheeks, admiring once more her troops, the hugeness of her power.

"Soldiers," she declared loudly, "you all fought bravely. You managed to bring me the Seven Kingdoms and to stop all of our enemies. My debt towards you is immeasurable. Be assured my rewards will be up to it. But first, we have to make sure none of our opponents will be able to rise against House Targaryen," she glanced at Grey Worm, "bring the prisoner."

As two of the Unsullied clapped Tyrion in irons, a dozen of them arrived on the right side of the stairs. The moment after, a soaked man was on his knees at the Queen's feet, his hands tied up in his back, a gag in his mouth. Daenerys' eyes were full of rage as she looked at him scornfully. Sandor had seen this man before. He recognized his despising face.

Euron Greyjoy.

"You," the Queen roared, "you killed my child."

The way she had pronounced this sentence was frightening. Euron tried to yell something at the Queen, but the gag was deep in his throat. With a quick glance to her men, Daenerys ordered one of them to put it off.

"I did kill your bloody child," he spat, "and I would do it again happily."

His eyes were as blue as the sea, and his tongue as honed and deft as a snake's one. He seemed to enjoy what he was seeing. His words completely outraged the Queen. She was now shivering in anger. She managed to calm herself enough to say:

"Your Queen his dead. I destroyed her city. I killed her."

"Oh no, you didn't," Euron stared at Tyrion, "Jaime Lannister did."

Tyrion was in shock, and even Daenerys was left agog. Jaime Lannister killing his incestuous lover? This was crazy.

"Don't worry," Euron said while looking at Tyrion, "this bastard paid for it. You haven't seen how the Mountain played with him. He'll be dead in the next days, mark my words!"

He burst into laughter. They all suddenly looked up to see Drogon come back to his owner. How could somebody be so joyful even when knowing his death was close? Sandor tensed as he saw Drogon land and approach his mother, his sharp teeth glinting in his mouth like razor blades. It was as if the creature had recognized the man.

"Enough!" Daenerys shouted. "You murdered my child, you chose the wrong Queen, and therefore betrayed the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. You will pay."

"Come on, let's get this over with! Do your thing and burn me alive. I'm ready to meet the Drowned God."

"Burn you alive? No. You deserve more pain."

Jon, Tyrion, Davos and even Sandor were holding their breath.

"You will feed my son," she declared. "I warn you, he loves to play with his food."

Drogon approached his head to listen to Daenerys' whispers, and the moment after, he grabbed Euron with his gigantic paw and pulled him closer, indifferent to his screams. Sandor noticed Daenerys' smile as she silently watched her dragon tear apart the man as if he was a vulgar rag doll. He had seen horrible things in his life, but this was particularly savage and gory. This was not revenge, this was pure rage.

The Dragon Queen greeted the assembly when they all applauded her move. Drogon had done eating, and he disappeared again, his mouth full of blood. The meeting was done. The Dragon Queen had started her reign with a public execution. How poetic. Grey Worm and his Unsullied left the square, and rapidly everyone started to scatter in the streets. Davos made his way towards the King in the North, and Sandor followed. He did not want to join the others and to endure their happy faces. Jon seemed to be absorbed by his thoughts, he was as pale as ice. Gods, the Hound wanted to slap him in the face so bad.

"Did you know your brother would kill Cersei?" the Queen asked Tyrion.

"I didn't," he admitted.

"Where's he now?"

"I asked some soldiers to bring him back to the camp."

"Very well. You proved me where your true loyalty lied." She turned over Jon, "I want the Kingslayer to be kept prisoner in the Stark camp and to be carefully watched by your men. I allow maesters to try to heal him. If he survives, make him understand that he is alive thanks to my mercy. If the Gods allow it, he'll be judged, just like his brother. Hopefully being the captive of his House's ancestral enemy will make him remember to never turn his back on me."

She did not give Jon the chance to answer and left her advisors, her hands crossed, apparently indifferent from the abominable scenery surrounding her. Couldn't she see the ashes around her? The smoke? The fresh blood covering the stairs?

Jon said nothing as he saw Tyrion be taken away by the soldiers. He seemed to have no idea of how irritating he was right now either.

"What do we do now?" Davos asked.

"I don't know."

"Come on," Sandor cursed, gritting his teeth, "you're really going to let her do as she like? After what she has done?"

The King was conflicted, but he knew Clegane had a point.

"She won't stop," Davos said, "you've heard her."

"Why would she?" asked the Hound, "You gave her everything already. Your men, your House… she spread her lovely legs, and you gave her the entire North."

"Careful now," Davos warned. "Leave us, Hound. We've had enough of your words."

But Sandor was determined:

"Look at me, boy! You're their King, not their friend. Do something! Have you seen her face? She's a killer. I know a killer when I see one. And I can tell you she enjoyed every moment, trust me on that."

Davos was about to say something, but the Hound was already leaving.

"Don't listen to him, my King," he begged. "He's just a barking dog."

"He's right. You know that."

There was sadness in Jon's words.

"I've let my feelings for her blind me. We all did. Sansa was right."

The Onion Knight wanted to contradict him, but he couldn't. The truth was a powerful thing, too strong to be set aside. He saw Jon eyes darken as he declared:

"She wounded Arya."

"She didn't know…"

"I don't care," Jon cut off as he turned over to leave. "I need to see Tyrion."

The next day.

When Arya opened her eyes, she was in a tent. Everything was blurry around her but her memories were intact. She could remember the moment when a maester had stitched her wound, as Jon was holding her in his arms. She could still feel the sensation of the needle piercing her flesh, the pain it had brought. Now her head was hurtful and she still felt dizzy, but at least she was alive. She lifted her head to look around, but the weakness of her body made her shiver. She hated to be in such a state.

"Easy now," said a low voice. She recognized it automatically. She turned her head on the left of her pillow and saw the Hound standing up right in front of her bed. What was he doing here?

"What happened?" she asked, trying to hide the fragility in her voice.

"Come on," he sighed, "you don't remember?"

She frowned.

"I remember Jon, the needle and the maester. When was it?"

"It was yesterday morning. You're alright now."

"What time is it?"

"The sun went down an hour ago."

"I was asleep for two days?"

Sandor tried not to chuckle. Arya Stark was definitely one of a kind. He knew she hated to feel powerless, and yet she still needed to rest. He slowly nodded at her and she let out a loud sigh. Suddenly, she sat up in her bed, her eyes wide open.

"King's Landing," she said, "I saw it burn."

"We all did." His voice was full of bitterness.

Then, all of this wasn't a dream, Arya thought. She felt a shiver as violent images came back to her mind. She could see it now. Sandor, the dust, the smoke, the fire, the screams. The dragon. She remembered seeing him fighting a Dothraki, his eyes as raging as the flames all around.

"You saved me," she whispered thoughtfully. Her eyes rapidly looked up at him, and Sandor felt uncomfortable as he read thankfulness in them. He hated to be thanked, and yet almost every man of Jon Snow's army had praised him. He was not a fucking hero. He had killed helpless men and ignored needing women and children just to bring Arya to her brother. He had been nothing but himself: violent, selfish and indifferent.

Arya saw the anger in his eyes, and therefore retained the "Thank you" she had in mind. But she knew she would tell him later anyway.

"How did I get this wound?" she inquired instead.

Still a sensitive subject. Sandor simply told her that stones had hit her head as they were making their way into the Red Keep. In a sense, he felt relieved to see she did not remember their quarrel. If she had listened to him in the first place, nothing of this would have happened. The Hound felt a surge of guilt grow in his heart. She was injured because of me.

"Where's Jon?"

Crap.

How do you tell a girl her brother is a Queenslayer? Sandor was not a liar. He chose to do it his way - the hard way.

"The Unsullied arrested him. He killed the Targaryen girl."

Jon had been arrested the day before, in front of his men; he had stabbed the Mad Queen in the heart, and it was a relief.

This was the reason why Sandor had stayed near Arya. He knew she was safe with the Northmen who were loyal to their King, but Jon had asked him and Davos to keep an eye on her in his absence.

As he finally managed to explain everything to the girl, a man's voice screamed in pain, surprising both of them. Sandor rolled his eyes.

"Don't pay attention," he stated. "Jaime Lannister is incapable to shut his fucking mouth."

"Jaime Lannister?"

"Aye. This damn idiot is a lucky one. He survived."

"I thought he was with Cersei."

"We all thought that, but he wasn't, apparently. People say he killed his twin with his own hands. Born a Kingslayer, always a Kingslayer. That was before my brother found him."

Jaime was indeed in a very bad state. At first, Sandor had heard the man would die in the night, but he did not. He was tenacious, but many people said he had almost lost his sight for the Mountain had tried to puncture his eyes. Cersei's body had been found, and Daenerys had asked for her head. She had much in common with Joffrey, in the end. The Mountain was found inert near the Lannister cadaver. At first, people had thought he was dead, but he was a nasty piece of work. How do you kill someone who came back from the Dead? It had needed about thirty men to handle him, and Sandor had heard he was rotting in jail now, his body covered with the heaviest chains. This was the reason why he had been incapable to sleep, still fearing to find out about his big brother's escape.

"I need to see Jon," declared Arya as she tried to leave her bed.

Before her foot touched the ground two strong arms were already maintaining her shoulders.

"I knew you would say that, but that's a no."

"Your not my father," she shouted, infuriated.

"You're right, but I'm your savior." She glanced at him with a wild look which made him chuckle amusingly, "Your brother is surrounded by tens of Unsullied."

"I can handle them easily."

"I don't doubt that, but not with this wound. They said you were out of danger, but you have to rest. Now, you go back to bed, or I'll call one of your brother's men to chain you."

"Fine," she spat.

"Is everything alright, my Lady?"

Brienne's soft voice made Sansa jump in surprise. She had asked the carriage to stop. She needed to think. The past few days had been a row of stressful events, and she had been overwhelmed by ravens. First, the Dragon Queen had burnt King's Landing to the ground. Nothing surprising. Sansa knew it would happen, but she still could not understand why nobody tried to stop her in the first place. Arya had been injured during the siege. This was unexplainable. She had felt the urge to leave Winterfell after hearing about her little sister. But before she could depart, Brienne told her about Jon. He had killed Daenerys. Stabbed her in the heart. He was a Queenslayer.

Ser Davos Seaworth had been as regular as he could, sending her ravens to let her know about the situation. Tyrion had been arrested for treason, Cersei was dead, Euron had been executed… and now that the Seven Kingdoms were without a ruler, it had been decided that all of the most influential figures of Westeros had to gather in a Council to decide what would occur. Of course, she had come forward. But the task had appeared to be far more difficult than she thought. The last time she had taken the Kingsroad to reach the Capital was when she was still destined to Joffrey Lannister. Her father was still alive, and she was nothing more than a silly little girl who was dreaming of chivalry and romance. She hated this road. She hated the South. There were still close to the North when she had felt the urge to leave the carriage in a hurry. The sun was going down, its red rays slightly lighting each branch and leaf. Brienne had followed her Lady, noticing the fear in her features.

"I am fine, Ser Brienne," Sansa answered as she thoughtfully admired the silent valley that ran on the length of the Kingsroad.

"You risk nothing here."

She looked at Brienne and saw the sympathetic smile on her lips. If there was one soul she was trusting in this world, it was hers.

"We're close to Moat Cailin," said the recently knighted woman. She knew her Lady needed to talk to chase her worried thoughts. But she knew what she had to tell her would not be pleasant at all. "In a day or two, we'll reach…"

"The Twins," Sansa interrupted. She managed to find a composure before adding: "This road is the fastest one to reach King's Landing. I don't want to make a detour. We'll cross the Twins."

"Fine, my Lady."

"You can tell the others to prepare the horses. I'm ready."

As the carriage started, Sansa took deep breaths. She could see Brienne through the small window. The latter preferred to ride outside in case of an unexpected charge. Sansa felt perfectly safe, and yet her heart was firmly echoing in her rib cage. This was necessary, she knew it, but she could not help but realize it was as if the story was repeating itself. Her sister and brother had left home, and now they were in danger.

The lonely wolf dies, but the pack survives.

She needed to join her pack.

The fucking bitch!

Sandor roared in anger. He had just left for fifteen minutes, just to make sure Arya would not lack food or water, and now the tent was empty. This bloody girl was definitely the worst. Why did he have to care about her so much? The Gods had obviously cursed him on that. The Hound left the tent and started looking for her, although he knew how fast and quiet she could be.

"Looking for the Stark girl?" a voice asked.

He recognized the accent. Davos smiled amusingly.

"She came to find me," stated the Onion Knight. "She wanted to see the King."

"The bloody King is in jail."

"He is, yes. Three Northmen volunteered to bring his sister to him. She'll be back soon."

Don't be so sure.

"You really think three cunts would be enough against an army of angered Unsullied?"

Gods. How fatherly he sounded.

"They know the protocol. She's safe, my friend."

The Hound growled loudly:

"You truly don't know her then."

"Come on, why would she disappear? Her brother is here, she still needs medication, and her sister will arrive soon."

"Sansa?"

His question betrayed his feelings. Of course Sansa Stark would come. She was nothing without her family. Sandor did not give Davos the opportunity to answer as he made his way towards the most remote part of the camp, where he knew everything was quiet. As he walked, he looked at the dark ruins all around him.

The Little Bird goes back to her former cage.

So sorry, I did not want you to wait this long. I'll update asap. Please Review!