I'd like to thank all of you for your Reviews. I'm gonna focus on Sandor and Sansa, but I'd love to describe the evolution of the other characters as well - what do you think?

Almost two weeks after what was now called the Great Fire, King's Landing was full of hustle and bustle. It was a weird thing to state, and yet. The wreckage was still visible, sparkling in the Southern sun, and everyone had so much to do. Ser Davos had supervised the organisation in the Stark camp. In his King's absence, things had been difficult to handle. He had sent ravens to all of the most influential lords and ladies in Westeros, and now all he had to do was to wait. Fortunately, he was not alone in this task. Although Tyrion and Jon were in jail, Arya Stark had completely recovered from her injuries, and the maesters were optimistic about her health. The girl had given him a precious help. She had managed to lead the North soldiers. At first, he thought she did not have her sister's capacity to give orders, but he had been pleasantly surprised. She did not possess Lady Sansa's temper - in fact, she was not a lady at all - but all of her father's soldiers were ready to obey her to the letter. After all, she was the hero of Winterfell. She had saved them all. Plus, Arya Stark was a wolf. She had pitted herself against Grey Worm several times, and Davos knew she was capable to come to blows with him. He had already seen her fight, she was strong. The tension between the Unsullied and the Northmen was more and more complicated to face, but the Onion Knight had managed to negotiate a truce until the establishment of a Council. To his greatest relief, Grey Worm had accepted, but he knew he wanted to see Jon Snow executed.

But, although he was gloomy, Grey Worm was not the worst case. Sandor Clegane was starting to be out of control. Davos knew it was because he feared the Mountain even if Gregor was also rotting in a cell. Davos had been able to see him once, and the experience completely frightened him. The Mountain was constantly guarded by a dozen of soldiers, the best warriors they had found. Some maesters had tried to analyse his case, but it appeared Qyburn had completely transgressed the Gods' law. The thing Davos had seen in the cell was not human anymore - even if to consider Gregor Clegane had once possessed humanity was not an easy task. The Hound wanted to see his brother, to kill him once and for all, but it was said the Mountain was now invincible. It had faced death once, and came back, therefore it had even frightened the Stranger. Davos also wanted to get rid of the thing, but the risk was too big. The Hound had ignored his advice and visited the cell, and when he came back, he was even more savage than before. Davos knew it was because he had been frightened too. Fortunately, after he almost killed a drunk soldier who had been too pestering, Clegane had automatically isolated himself, preferring to remain alone. Only Arya seemed to be allowed to stay with him.

As he reached the road near the camp, he saw Arya had arrived first. How did she know her sister would enter anytime now? She seemed to always be one step ahead.

"Ser Davos," she said as he made his way towards her.

"Lady Arya, how…"

"I'm no lady," she interrupted. "One of the Northmen heard you just received a raven from Sansa. I guess she insisted on arriving at the camp first."

"Indeed."

In fact, Lady Sansa had already given many directives, and Davos was yearning for her arrival. Some of the Westerosi nobles were already here, a part of them had accepted to stay in the safe areas of the Keep, the others had preferred to gather their men outside the city. The carriages rapidly arrived, surrounded by Northern knights fiercely holding House Stark's flags. Davos recognized Lady - Ser Brienne. She stopped her mount and got off before greeting them both. Lady Sansa got out of her carriage, her blue eyes lightly glinting, her face boldly lifted. When she saw Arya, she hurried herself to hug her. They both whispered something, but Davos did not hear. Arya smiled against her sister, and she finally let go of her. A knight helped Lord Brandon Stark to leave one of the carriages as well. Arya hugged him as well, but the boy's expression was undecipherable, as always.

"Lady Sansa, Lord Bran" Davos said, "it is a relief to see you here."

"Thank you, Ser Davos. I assume there are many things that need to be done."

He was amazed by her self-control. Doubtless she had seen the horrific landscapes all around the end of the Kingsroad. Many people had found themselves homeless after the Great Fire, and although most of the soldiers had managed to get rid of all the dead bodies in the area, the air was still filled with a strong smell of smoke.

"You're right, my Lady," he declared as they both started to make their way towards the camp. Arya and Brienne also walked next to them.

"How's my brother?" asked Sansa.

"The last time I saw him was yesterday. Be assured he wants for nothing. He has been alerted for his trial."

"That's good to hear. How is the camp? How are the soldiers?"

"Well, your brother's army starts to get tired of the South. Fortunately, we have enough provisions to last another month. Many men asked me permission to leave and go back to the North. Some others want to remain here until the King in the North is properly judged, just in case the situation get worse. I was waiting for your judgment on the subject."

"From what I've heard, the Northmen fought bravely. They truly deserve to leave this place, but I think it would be better to wait for the trial. I don't want to see another war break out. I need to see Jon first before making any hurried decision."

As they entered the camp, Ser Davos led Sansa to one of the white tents in order to discuss more privately. Many soldiers recognized the Lady of Winterfell and her brother and greeted them as if they were saviors. Sansa felt deeply moved by the emotions she read in their eyes. They seemed to have witnessed the worst as if the Battle of Winterfell had been nothing at all. She needed to take stock of the situation. Bran remained silent and observed every element surrounding him. During their cross of the Kingsroad, he had given her all the description she needed about what the Dragon Queen had done, and she had tried her best to prepare herself to witness the horror in the capital. But no matter how hard she had tried to imagine what she would see, the sight of the people they had met on the road, the hopelessness in their eyes, the destruction surrounding the capital, none of it was as violent as she had thought. She hated the South, she hated King's Landing, but these people were innocents.

They all finally reached the tent.

"I need you to tell me everything you know," Sansa stated as she looked at Davos and Arya. They were all seated, at the exception of Ser Brienne who was standing next to the entrance, her hand on the pommel of her sword. The Unsullied were at the other extremity of the city, but Brienne knew that the weeks following a battle could be even more violent than the battle itself. She had told Lady Sansa to be careful.

"I fear there's nothing else to tell," answered Davos as he tied his hands on the table. "I tried my best to follow Jon's orders as well as yours. Your brother seems very downcast about what happened."

Of course he is, Sansa thought, he killed the woman he loved.

The Stark sisters both shared a concerned glance.

"Have you seen him?" Sansa asked Arya.

"I have."

"And?"

"Ser Davos is right. Jon thinks he deserves death for what he has done."

This sentence made Sansa shiver. Of course Jon wanted to die. His honor had always been the best quality he ever had, and now that he was known in the entire realm as the new Queenslayer, each claims he ever had were threatened, even the throne in the North.

You cannot be a King when one of your first actions is regicide.

It was so unfair. Jon was the King in the North, he deserved to rule. He had been loyal, just and clever, all of the qualities each ruler needed to have.

"Any news from the Council members?" Sansa tried to change the subject. She shared another glance with her little sister. Both knew they needed to talk.

"The ruler in Dorne arrived some days ago. He remains in his own camp, near ours. Yara Greyjoy said she would come as well, and I'm still waiting for her news. Some of Tywin Lannister's relatives came as well, but they preferred to stay in the Keep. They are still angered by the situation. Many of them knew Cersei was mad, but they don't believe her twin would have killed her."

"He killed Cersei," Bran interrupted with a placid voice, "I saw him."

Sansa slowly looked at Brienne. Her expression was static, as if she had not paid attention to this latter statement.

"On this point," Sansa carried on, "how is Ser Jaime Lannister?"

"He's still wounded. Maester Ilmon thought he would lose his eyesight, but it appears that only one eye is badly injured. He's mostly unconscious, and it's for the better. The Mountain almost ripped off his arm and seriously cut his left thigh open. The cut was so deep and infected the maesters thought they would amputate."

"He'll walk again. But he won't fight," said Bran.

Brienne was trying her best not to burst into tears. Jaime did not deserve to lose his leg, nor his sight. He had broken her entirely, and she was not sure if she would forgive him, but she knew he would hate live like this. Fights were the things he preferred in life.

"Where is he now?" asked Lady Sansa.

"In the camp, still. Some people want him to preside over the Council as well, since he killed Cersei. The Dragon Queen wanted him to be sent in a cell and judged aside with his brother, for they both betrayed her."

Sansa rolled her eyes. This woman was definitely certain of her superiority.

"I don't think he deserves to be imprisoned. As you said, he's mostly unconscious and his injuries would not allow it. However, it would be a bad idea to let him preside. We need to be certain on the nature of his doings. I need to visit him as well, when he'll be able to speak. The Council will decide if he has to be judged or not."

"As you wish, my Lady," Davos declared.

"Ser Brienne, you will go with Ser Davos and talk with the soldiers. See what they need, what they have done. If some of them killed innocent people, I want to know. The Dragon Queen's madness is not a reason I want Jon's men to follow or respect."

Her voice was calm and soft, and yet full of command. She really knew how to show who was in charge.

"Are you certain the place is safe enough, my Lady?" Brienne asked as Davos left his chair.

"The place is surrounded by Northmen. I risk nothing. I trust your judgment and I need you to inspect the troops. If needed, my sister will protect us."

Arya nodded to Brienne. The knight smiled and left. Davos made his way towards the exit of the tent and looked one last time behind him to see the Stark children together.

"My Lady," he said before Sansa lift her head in his direction, "it is good to have you here."

She thanked him with a gracious and silent nod.

Sandor had fallen asleep against an old tree and woke up with a start. Gods, he hated this hot weather. His armor was sticky against his skin, he would damn himself for a bath, but since he wanted to avoid the others, he had spent his time out of the camp for almost three days. He had tried to reach Gregor once again, but it was impossible to do since the number of soldiers had doubled. He could not erase the image of his brother's dark shape, of his red eyes that had broken through the shadows of the cell. This fucking bastard had recognized him, he had known Sandor was coming for him. Gregor looked like a deformed beast under his chains, his loud breathing was frightening, his silence even more. Sandor felt the shame in his heart as the truth appeared in his mind: he had fled, once again. The damn barking dog had not been able to face the Mountain. And yet, he wanted to see him dead, more than anything else on this earth. It was everything he had ever wished. Was it? He needed to get drunk again. Only wine could help him forget his shame and intensify his need to kill. One day, he will get rid of Gregor. And he will enjoy it. A husky laugh went out of his mouth as he remembered the other soldiers' claims. The Mountain's invincible, they said, he scared the Stranger. They were twats, all of them. He hoped the Council meetings would need enough soldiers to allow him to make a visit to his big brother. He knew it would scare him again, but this fright was nothing against the constant fear he was feeling now that he knew Gregor was near and more powerful than ever.

As he rolled on his left to try to get up, he heard footsteps come closer. Which moron would be suicidal enough to approach the Hound? He stood up as fast as he could and turned over, ready to unsheathe his sword, but he froze as he recognized the person standing in front of him. She was here.

Sansa.

She slowly lifted her head, noticing his gesture, but she did not move. There was a time when she was but a young and innocent girl who feared everything. Now, she was a woman, bold and gracious, and it was as if she did not have any feelings anymore. Her cold and piercing eyes were observing him in silence, and Sandor thought for a brief moment that she was trying to look into his soul. He could not get used to her looking at him directly, and he had told her so during the party at Winterfell. Used to be you couldn't look at me, he had said. And now, she was in front of him, still delicate but so strong and fierce, and so beautiful.

"I was looking for you," she said calmly. "Arya told me you'd be here."

He tried his best to hide the awkward emotion he felt after this sentence. Why would she be looking for him? How could she look at him in the eyes without feeling the urge to immediately look away? He had spent three days on his own, sleeping under the stars against the same tree. He was filthy and smelly, probably still drunk. Why did she had to be the first person he saw?

"What do you want?" he asked roughly as he started to walk, making sure to avoid any contact with her. Sansa observed him as if he was a mystery to clarify. Sandor went down to take his flask of wine on the ground. He drank in great gulps.

"I need to see Jon."

"I don't see what it has to do with me," he growled between two sips.

"I need someone to come with me to the Keep."

"Where's the blond tall woman you use as your bodyguard?"

"She's with Jaime Lannister."

So that's true, he thought. The Lion deflowered her.

"Davos?"

"He's too busy."

"Your sister?"

"With Bran."

Gods!

"There are almost a thousand of Northmen over here, I'm sure some of them would be delighted to accompany you."

She was starting to getting on his nerves. All he wanted was peace and quiet.

"Most of the soldiers you mentioned are already busy with the orders Ser Davos and I gave them. They need to fortify the camp, check on the provision stock, help the wounded and the homeless, build shelters for the most destitute. Also, most of them do not know the capital and the Keep. I figured that, since you spent several years there and you seem to have nothing to do, you were the best choice."

Damn, she was good. She knew what she wanted. Sandor let out a loud rumble in exasperation.

"I'm not in the best state at the moment," he grumbled mostly to himself.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she answered, an amused smile lighting her lips. "I'm not in a rush. You can go back to the camp and get ready."

"Get ready? Does my appearance disappoint you in any way, Lady Stark?" he spat in a mocking tone. He wanted her to leave. Once he would have done anything to see her, and now that she was talking to him with no fear in her manners, he couldn't bear it.

"I just wanted to be polite," she declared. "If you want to remain alone, it's your right. Before I leave, I'd like to thank you for what you did. My sister told me you saved her life. I owe you everything."

He turned his head and looked at her. She had spoken placidly, her tone was so cold, and yet there was emotion in her voice, she meant what she said. They shared a glance in silence once again. She smiled at him and turned over after a quick bow. She was now a few feet in front of him, making her way towards the camp. The Hound finally surrendered. He hated to see how vulnerable he was in presence of the Stark girls.

"Fine," he shouted.

She stopped and turned back, frowning.

"I'm coming with ya, don't want to face the soldiers if anything happens, knowing how clumsy you are," he declared as he reached her. Sansa looked at him in surprise. She did not expect him to accept so suddenly. She could not tell how much he had drunk, and it was complicated to state as he was still walking fast and straight. She knew the Hound was a drinker, but she wished to know why he was inflicting this to himself. They reached the camp rapidly, not sharing any word, and she noticed the insistent glare of the other soldiers as the Hound walked next to her. It was weird to see him here, it reminded her of the first time they had talked to each other, when she was nothing but a fragile girl. It was also in camp, when she was traveling to King's Landing with Arya, her father, and King Robert. It was so long ago, she had the impression it was the memory of another life. She thought about asking him if he needed anything to eat or drink, but she automatically kept quiet, not wanting to be rebuffed again.

Sandor waited for her as she talked with one of the soldiers working for Ser Davos. The man was holding planks, and she encouraged him in his task. The Hound assumed he had to build something. Shelters, probably. In fact, he did not care. Sansa told the man she was going to the Keep to see her brother. The soldier looked at him with a surprised look, but he finally bowed to the Lady of Winterfell before going back to work. She turned over him, ready to go.

Sansa wanted to cry. This place smelled of desolation. Everything was destroyed, silent, it was oppressive. And yet, she knew she had to cross this part of the city to reach the Keep. The last time she had seen King's Landing, it was at Joffrey's wedding, right before Littlefinger had helped her to escape. This city was doomed, she had always known it. Now that she was making her way in its wrecked streets, she could tell why she had always felt the constant urge to go away from it. It was also one of the reasons she had gone after the Hound. He knew the place by heart, and like her, he despised it. He was walking in front of her, never turning back, a hood over his head, his massive shadow overwhelming her. Oddly enough, she felt safe. It was so strange to see him again, and here. He had been a real cornerstone for her when she was still Joffrey's betrothed, and she had been too idiot to even notice it. At the time, she was afraid of him, now he was one of the most reassuring figures she knew. He had protected her from Joffrey, even if it was indirectly. He had even offered her to leave the city with him. He had helped Arya, so many times she could not count. He was a good man. A shame she did not see it earlier, she had been too blinded by appearances.

She felt a tear growing in her eye as she saw the blood on the ground, mixed with black cinders. It was a relief to know Daenerys had been stopped. What would she have done next? Sansa managed to wipe her tear away, taking a deep breath to get her self-composure back. It was done now. All she could do was to wait and make sure all the people who had lost their lives during the Great Fire would be remembered.

People will sing songs about what happened that day, she thought with bitterness.

"How was it?" she asked softly.

The Hound stopped and sighed:

"It wasn't something beautiful to see, as you can imagine."

"You were with Arya?"

"Aye. She wanted to kill Cersei, I wanted to…"

He paused. It was still difficult to say out loud that he wanted to slay his brother, particularly knowing that he had failed miserably.

"I've heard about your brother," she continued. "I hope you'll find a way to end his life."

He turned his head over to look at her, silently thanking her. Why was she so nice to him? He was not good with human behaviors, he thought.

"How about your brother," he asked as he let her step next to him, "do you think he deserves what he got?"

"I'm not the one who will mourn for the Dragon Queen, not after seeing this."

"That makes two of us. This fucking bitch decided to ignore her advisors. From what I've heard, your brother and the Imp wanted to get Cersei and avoid the bloodshed. But she preferred to send her creature to do the job. Nothing better than a bloody dragon to start a reign."

"My sister almost lost her life in the process. I'm sure that's why Jon stabbed Daenerys."

"You'll ask him."

Sandor felt his heart melt as he saw Sansa's touched emotion on her face. The Unsullied had accepted to let her see his brother, and the Hound had witnessed her tears after one of the soldiers opened the cell. Her brother was in the corner of the small room, on his knees, bounded like a beast. His dark beard had grown, his face was pale, and yet his eyes sparkled when he saw Sansa at the door frame. Sandor closed the cell behind Sansa and waited in front of it, giving them some intimacy. It had been a long time since he had been waiting in front of a door like a loyal dog. He remained silent, putting his head on the pommel of his sword as he noticed the mean look the two Unsullied surrounding the door gave him.

Sansa hurried and went on her knees to hug Jon. She had missed him so much, she had feared the worst, and yet he was here. Captive, but alive.

"I thought I would never see you again", she whispered against his ear. Jon felt tears going down his cheeks as he noticed the distress in her voice.

"You were right," he said, "you were right on everything. Please forgive me, Sansa."

"There's nothing to forgive and you know it."

He gently caressed her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"I gave her everything," he complained, "I gave her the North."

"It doesn't matter anymore, she's gone."

She hugged him once more. Jon felt relieved to see she was not referring to his murder. But it was what he was now, a Queenslayer.

"I deserve to be here," he stated. "I stabbed her. She's gone because of me."

"You did what was right. I know you loved her, brother, I saw it, but you saved us from her. You saved us all."

She lightly kissed his forehead as he burst into tears against her. She tried her best to comfort him, but she could hear the pain in his sobs. She could tell he had fought against his feelings, and now that she was here, everything was going out. He finally managed to get a grip, and they became able to talk.

When she left the cell, Sandor was sitting in the hall. He jumped up as one of the Unsullied opened the door. Sansa turned over and smiled at Jon. The Starks were so loyal to each other. This was definitely not something Clegane was used to see. He noticed Sansa's red eyes, but she coldly thanked the soldiers before taking her leave, as if nothing had happened. How did she manage to control her emotions? He knew she had been married twice, first to the Imp, then to Ramsay Snow, Bolton's bastard. He was still not used to see her so… unpredictable. He had the painful feeling that his little bird was gone. That it had evolved into a lonely wolf. Sansa's compassion and innocence were what had attracted him in the first place. Were they still in her, somewhere? Gods, he wanted to disembowel the bloody cunts who had stolen her childhood. She had been broken, and yet she was as resplendent as ever.

"Are you ready to go back?" she asked him quietly. He simply nodded. He had fought the urge to abandon her and reach his brother's cell, but the Mountain was intensively guarded day and night, and he knew Davos had asked the soldiers to keep him away from the access. Plus, he did not like the idea to leave her alone with two Unsullied. After all, she was the Queenslayer's sister now. They could have cut her throat in front of Jon to punish him. Or worse.

Sansa felt pleased to notice that more than half of the Keep had been reduced to ashes. All that was left were the previous servant's rooms. A part of them was now used as cells. As she followed the Hound, she tried to remember the architecture of the building and to guess where her room had been. The place was as gloomy as she had remembered it. She pitied the one who would have to live here as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Would he - or she - be a King now that there was no Iron Throne?

"Thank you for coming with me," she expressed as they left the Keep to reach one of the main courtyards.

He did not answer.

"Once all of it will be done, be assured that the North will remember what you've done for House Stark."

"Oh, come on!" he groaned. "I don't care about House Stark, I don't care about the fucking North. What makes you think I would go there anyway?"

"I assume you won't stay here after the Council ends."

"It's not the Council meetings I care about," he stopped and looked at her, his face near hers. "All I want to do is to make sure Gregor dies."

"So you're ready to spend your life near him just to find a way to kill him?"

"Don't attempt to convince me, girl. Your sister already tried."

He did not answer, but he could see the concern in her eyes. Concern about what? Him? What a silly idea.

They reached the path leading to the capitol and its huge stairs. Some of the towers surrounding it were still intact. As they walked under one of the archways, Sandor heard a familiar sound. It took him just a few seconds to grab Sansa by the arm and pull her against him, just before several stones fell on the floor behind them. One more second, and she would have been hit just like Arya. The Hound roughly held her against him, tightening his grip over her arm as he made them both reach the exit.

Then, he looked down.

She was glaring at him, her eyes still glinting in surprise, her lips slightly open. Her hand automatically clenched on his chest. It was as if time had stopped for a few seconds. He fell into the blue of her eyes, noticing the red color on her cheeks. Their faces were close, so close, Sandor even thought she would kiss him. Damn, why did he have to dive back into this? But then, it finally stopped. He took her hand away from his armor and gently let go of her.

Sansa tried her best to slow her heartbeat. When she lifted her head, the Hound was already ten few feet before her.

"Hurry up, girl," he yelled without turning at her, "we don't have all day!"

In the next chapter: Gendry arrives in King's Landing, Jaime wakes up as Sansa visits him.
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