If he had to spend any more days in this pile of shit, he was going to lose his mind. For a week, they had spent hiding below the Red Keep deep in the heart of Flea Bottom. Which despite it annoying him, made sense. And it would have been tolerable if there wasn't literal rivers of shit and piss in the streets and the scent clogging his nostrils to the point he had forced himself to breathe solely through his mouth it was that vile. Gods, he thought it was bad in the Keep itself, feeling his stomach turn a little just at the thought and needing to focus on what was in front of him currently.
Seeing the massive pot filled with the questionable food made him queasy, but it was better than not eating he supposed. The night before he'd raided an inn and took a couple of ducks from them which had delighted the Little Bird. At least it wouldn't be for much longer, soon they would be leaving this damnable city and all the serpents that lingered within. For too long he'd been stuck here bound by an oath his father had made. But his father was dead, and the cunt he had been sworn to was now dead too, so there was no reason for him to stay here.
At night, they would travel down to the docks to figure out when ships left the city and where each one was heading to. That night, they would be on one headed directly for Maidenpool where he then planned to ride to Riverrun to perhaps curry some favour with Lord Hoster. Not that it was needed, but it did amuse Sandor knowing that it would be a thorn in his mad brothers foot which was such sweet nectar. Like the first droplet of water had in days when in scorching heat.
He was at the front of the line now, the old wretch that had made the brown for the day handed him two clay pots which had obviously not been washed given the stains, but it was better than nothing he supposed. Filling the bowls with the disgusting sludge and trying to decipher what was in it today. Rat? Mouse? Pigeon? Gull? Dog? Cat? Heck, it wouldn't surprise him if the mysterious meat that was notorious for the Flea Bottom delicacy was something more sinister.
But food was food, after all.
Sandor headed back to the alleyway where he had left the Little Bird, covered by planks of wood which didn't look out of place given the state of the area of the city. Moving one of the planks and crouching down into it himself before pulling it over them until they were in complete darkness and handing her the bowl.
"No more duck?"
"Nay Little Bird- "
"My name is Sansa- "
"Sansa, Little Bird, Redhead, a name is a damned name."
She frowned his way at that, clearly trying to appear angry at his response but it did little to phase him. Still, she huffed in annoyance before taking the bowl from him and nibbling on some of the curious meat, hummed in contentment as it was more pleasant this time, before tipping the bowl to begin drinking the contents. How out of place she was here, he thought to himself. Hair so long and healthy it looked like freshly spun copper, skin so fair which attested to her living indoors for much of her life, a dress made of the finest materials a person could buy, and jewellery that could be sold by a common whelp to feed their family for a month straight. Him on the other hand? He fitted in well with his burned face. No one batted an eye at him here, clearly being used to seeing much worse than skin that had been partially melted off on one side of his face.
"Make sure to get as much food in you as you can, for we leave this evening."
"Why didn't we leave immediately after?"
He huffed in annoyance at that, her naivety shining through like light bouncing off of a looking glass. Ned Stark was an honourable man, no one could deny such a thing, but he was a stupid man. A weak man. Weakness does not go well in the capital for that is when the vultures begin to pick away until there is nought but bone left.
"People would've immediately been sent to look for you. The more time that passed, the less likely it seems we are still in the city, this in turn giving enough time to work something out."
"They're looking for me no matter what, I did kill the King- "
"Aye, you did. A wise thing to do and something I never thought a Little Bird like you could resort to doing."
"He made me look at my fathers head- "
"And you had best get used to seeing heads. For this shit world is not all songs and stories and Knight's saving fair maiden's. Everyone is an enemy to you, and you are a danger to everyone by default. The sooner you wake up from your dreams, Little Bird, the better."
"Do not call me Little Bird!"
Gods, it was amusing winding her up. Not that he'd ever say it to her face. Tall for her age, aye, yet she was as skinny as a twig and her body had yet to morph into that of a woman's. A child daring to say such to him was always something that brought a crude smile to his face.
And she used to be terrified of him.
He remembered the first time he had met her in Winterfell, where her eyes had immediately gone to his scarred face before widening in horror and turning away from the sight. Many people knew of him, but not what had caused him to get the scars. But she knew. How she found out, he would get out of her some way. As of right now though, her lips were sewn shut on who had spewed the words. Even now, he could still remember it like it had happened minutes before. Playing with the wooden figurine gifted to Gregor when he thought he wasn't looking, to hearing the thudding footsteps and not having time to look at him before his face was pushed into the burning flames. The pain was bad, but the smell was worse. Hair singing away, skin melting, the meat under the skin of his cheek beginning to cook like a fresh mutton chop.
Hours passed. Steadily watching on the streets to begin dying off before daring to leave. Just after the sun had set, would be when the ship would leave. They needed to be on that ship for if he was to spend one more day in this stinking place he was going to rip someone's head off.
"Why do you have to be so vile?"
"Why do you have to have your head in the clouds? Your hands are filled with blood, I watched as you smiled as the little shit fell towards the spikes. You enjoyed every moment of what you did, and I commend you for it. That fucker was going madder as the days went on, but you need to understand the consequences of your actions."
"I know my consequences. I killed the King, that makes me a Kingslayer- "
A laugh erupted from him at that, a smile so large it was almost from ear to ear before shaking his head.
"You ain't no Kingslayer. You know as well as I do that the little shit wasn't the one ruling. Aye, he wore the crown, but that was the extent of it. Now, the crown passed to young Tommen. A sweet boy, a boy that does not deserve having that bitch to call his mother, yet a boy all the same. Cersei Lannister will be the one pulling the strings on the puppets she controls and let me tell you, that woman is her fathers daughter. A stupider version, but her fathers daughter. The Old Lion will not take the death of his grandson with a grain of salt. He's likely already on the march here, I'd be willing to wager on it. Hence the sooner we are out of this shit and piss fest of a city, the better."
She shut up at that, knowing not what to say in response. Sighing deeply before looking to her straight on.
"You don't like me, and I don't like you either. Yet you roped me into this shit so we are stuck with one another now. But I am not someone to keep the truth from you. If the news hasn't already gotten out, it will be out soon. And when it does, the Old Lion will be roaring as loud as a thunder storm. The last time Tywin Lannister marched on the capital, atrocious things happened- "
"It was war- "
"And war brings out the worst in people. I am sure your father told you many a times on what it makes a person into. But it doesn't justify what happened. I'll admit, I am not a pleasant person, but I would never smile over the bodies of babes."
And it was true, his brother had smiled for weeks afterwards and even boasted of what he had done. Of how he had cornered Princess Elia, ripped her infant son from her arms, and cracked his head open against a wall. Then there was Amory Lorch who took great pride in killing the last of Rhaegar's heirs- a girl of three. A girl who had been subjected to being stabbed half a hundred timed and by Robert's words, was nigh unrecognisable her injuries were so severe. It was a horrific act, one that hit close to home. Not that his father ever let that out. Gregor attempting to force himself on their little sister Lenna and when she had fought back had been met with her head being cracked against the wooden floor. By the time their father had found them, his sister was already dead and Gregor was boasting on having his way.
Either way, the day would come where he would end the mad fucker. It may be days, or it may be years. But Sandor had sworn to himself he would be the one to put an end to Gregor. It would mark him a Kinslayer, and it would be a title he would carry with honour no matter how vile it would make him appear to the masses. The less attention the better, he thought to himself. The sun was beginning to set now, knowing it would soon be time for them to leave. Looking down to Sansa and nodding to confirm they should head over to the docks now. The Little Bird picking up her skirts which were stained brown at the bottom from what could only be shit. Gods, they must've stank, but the whole city stank so that was nothing new to either of them.
They made their way west towards the Street of the Sisters which conjoined the Guildhall of Alchemists to the ruins of the Dragonpit, making their way down in amongst the busy street and keeping their heads low just on the off chance people were to recognise them. Once at the Guildhall, they turned east as if heading straight for the Red Keep which towered atop Aegon's High Hill but turning off not long after for Fishmonger's Square. Then to the River Gate onto the street which took them down to the docks, using his head to cover his burned face but there were very few people manning the area. Gods, Cersei was an idiot. If he were in her shoes, he would have people at every entryway into the city. It worked in their favour though, seeing the ship that would take them to Maidenpool up ahead. The second they tried to get on the ship though, the captain scrunched his face up at them and refused them due to their smell.
"If yer can't change yer clothes, ye ain't getting on ma ship."
His hand immediately went to his sword but a hand on his wrist stopped him as he turned to see what the Little Bird was looking at. Turning his head and seeing another ship with a sigil known to him well.
"The hell is a Manderly doing in Kings Landing?"
Just like that, the Little Bird took off running. Cursing under his breath before running after her and hoping her running away didn't rise anymore suspicion.
"Ser Wendel- "
The name wasn't one he knew of, but the recognition on the man on decks face was all that was needed.
"Come, my Lady, but I cannot let- "
"The Hound saved me from the Queen, he is under my protection. He comes with us or none of us come."
Sandor would never say so aloud, but the small resolve she displayed there was amusing. The man scowling his way showing he distrusted them greatly but allowed them onto the ship and offered a change of clothes. Gods, anything to get the shit stained ones he was wearing off of his body. Mayhaps they could even burn them as a means to get some warmth, it would at least be somewhat pleasant then.
"Why are you here, Ser?"
"I was in Braavos when I received word of the banners being raised, my Lady. I came back to Westeros as soon as I heard."
"Can you get us out of this shit pile of a city?"
The fat man eyed him up and down before puffing his chest out as if to make himself look bigger. As if that would be possible, the man in front of him made Robert Baratheon look skinny.
"Aye."
"In the next few minutes?"
He bristled at the quickness of the retort. Thinking for a moment whether or not it was worth the fight before backing down and yelling to the captain to prepare to leave now.