Shorter chapter, because I don't like them apart.
Also, kind of a gruesome chapter.
Can't wait to start working on the second half of the story.
Next chapter, we're jumping a few years. Arya and Sandor meet again, both of them wearing the masks they chose.
Arya
The news of King Robert's death hit her father hard.
The news of Jon Arryn's death hit her father and her mother both. They were visiting Lysa Arryn in her time of grief when the third blow arrived.
Sansa's engagement to Joffrey had been annulled. The message from Lord Tywin Lannister also contained his request for Sansa's hand in marriage for his son, the acting Hand of the King. Tyrion Lannister.
When they got back to Winterfell, Arya made sure to sneak into the council chambers for every meeting her father had with the lords of the North. She heard them make plans for rebellion if the Lannisters would try to appoint another Warden of the North. She heard them talk about the importance of securing passage at the Twins.
In her room, Arya looked at the bag of gold from Sandor Clegane and at the perfect sword from Jon. She could run away to Braavos, and be free. Or stay in the North and protect the Realms of Men. Her heart pulled her to the South. To freedom. If she passed by King's Landing she'd find a way to see the Hound one last time. Before the war started.
"The Nigth Watch has an important mission."
She couldn't abandon her family for such a selfish reason as being free to do what she liked. Even if they were planning on marrying her off without caring about her wishes.
Jon was in the Night's Watch. Out of all her siblings, Arya had always loved him most of all. She could become Arri Snow.
If she left, she'd be a traitor to her family, but joining the Night's Watch cancelled past crimes. She grimaced at the thought of being surrounded by men who had committed horrible crimes.
She could be the man she wanted to be if she joined.
She would have to be.
Sandor
Soon after their return to King's Landing, a hunting accident claimed the life of the King. He wouldn't say he was surprised. Drunk as King Robert usually was, fat and sluggish as he got over the years, Sandor Clegane could believe it was an accident.
And there he was. Bodyguard to the new King. Robert Baratheon's corpse wasn't even cold when Joffrey and the Queen Mother began the changes. The first was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Out went Ser Barristan Selmy, in came Ser Jamie Lannister. It didn't matter to the Hound.
One of his main duties was to guard Joffrey's door when the girls from Littlefinger's brothel visited. He stood in front of that door, unmoving and protective, like the Titan of Braavos.
He knew about Braavos now. He hid pilfered books in his dingy little room as other man would stash gold coins. He read them at dawn, slowly, tracing the words with his finger, moving his lips and stumbling on big words and strange names.
At night, he closed his ears to the pitiful sounds that escaped through the massive oak door. He had no eyes for the bruises and blood stains on the girls who left that room. His lips were sewn shut when it came to keeping the King's secrets.
The second change was a more welcome surprise. Lord Jon Arryn was old and he seemed to have lost his wits. When illness claimed him, the raven from Casterly Rock stated that the youngest of the Queen's brothers would serve as King until Tywin Lannister himself arrived.
The Hound held out a tiny hope that the Imp could manage the King's insanity. Tyrion was the only one of the Lannisters who knew the real world and had contact with real people, though mostly whores and sellswords. For Sandor Clegane, the real world was mostly made up of whores and sellswords too.
That hoped died the night Joffrey opened the door.
"Dog! Clean up this mess!"
There was a lot of blood in the King's chamber. Much more than what he spotted in the mornings before the cleaners came in. The girl was tied to the bed posts. Her body limp, hanging from the bindings. He couldn't see movement in her chest. He couldn't see much of anything other than torn flesh.
He cut down the thick rope around her wrists. The girl fell like a broken doll onto the bed. He took off his cloak and wrapped her body in it. He would bury her in the same place where he buried all the little animals Joffrey had killed.
He made his way down the dark and narrow passages, racing the dawn. He needed to get to the secluded and unmarked graveyard before the light of day exposed the horror he was trying to conceal. The first ray of sunlight hit him just as he laid down his burden.
A tiny movement inside the blood-stained cloak made him cringe. He parted the wrapping. She couldn't be alive.
But she was.
What looked up at him from the cloak turned shroud was no longer a face. It was a tangle of ribbons of skin and exposed flesh. He placed the tip of his dagger on her sternum, where the heart was, and pushed. He put his palm over the blood gushing from a tiny heart, and felt its last faint beatings.
Then stillness.
Peace.
He wrapped the now crimson cloak around the girl, picked her up gently in his arms and laid her in the safety of the grave.
He didn't stick around to see the third major change. On the day his ship set sails for Braavos, the engagement between Sansa Stark and King Joffrey Baratheon was dissolved and the news of the King's betrothal to Margaery Tyrell was announced.
On the boat, Sandor Clegane looked at the Captain's compass. They were sailing away from the North. Something tugged at his heart.
The North. Winterfell.
His little wildling girl was probably married. Expecting her first babe already. He would be free for both of them.