From the time Lord Eddard asked him to take the girls from Riverrun, Sandor had hoped both Sansa and Arya would have a chance to speak to their parents alone before they took their leave. Much to his great displeasure, as they were about entered the Great Hall, Jaime Lannister and Brienne abruptly joined them in the corridor.
Her face schooled into one of bland courtesy, Sansa grasped his hand tightly, and Sandor squeezed it reassuringly in response. He could feel the tension in her body. Beside her, Arya clenched the hilt on Needle. He would not let anyone take them from him, nor the Baratheon bastard either for that matter, regardless of what the lion or the wench had in mind.
Wordlessly Jaime and Brienne fell into step with them, the woman offering him a slight smile as she moved behind Sansa. Brienne was a puzzle to the man. She believed in true knights-even fancied herself a knight of sorts-though she was widely considered as much an abomination as Sandor, an aberration that the gods for unknown reasons allowed into their midst. That did not sit well with him.
He did not like the woman. She should have learned better, Sandor silently fumed, and spit on both knights and their vows, as he did. There would never be a place in the world for people like them. The lady Brienne seemed too trusting, too willing to prove herself, and somehow too gentle hearted, qualities the kingslayer would undoubtedly exploit to his advantage on the road.
If he knew Jaime, the golden knight would have no trouble defeating her once he recovered; having Brienne escort him was as good as unlocking his shackles and allowing him to escape.
Having met the man in several tourney competitions, Sandor most certainly did not trust her fighting skills against Jaime. When she was appointed to return him to King's Landing, he thought to speak out, though it was no hair off his arse if the Starks threw away their most valuable asset by entrusting him to an artless female who played at being a knight. Sansa was his, and he was taking her away from the game of thrones and that was all that mattered to him, so Sandor let his misgivings die on his tongue.
"Nephew! Well, a nephew of sorts, anyway," Jaime crowed loudly at the sight of Gendry. "Coming with us to King's Landing?"
"No, milord." Gendry muttered through gritted teeth.
"For the best, no doubt. My sister is one you should avoid at all costs; isn't that so, Lady Sansa?"
Brienne wrenched his elbow. "Enough. You will not speak to Lady Catelyn's daughter in such a way in my presence-is that understood?"
"Perfectly, my lady." The lion chuckled to himself. Sansa glared daggers at the man before shaking her head at Sandor. Only he knew that Jaime often made jokes when he was nervous or uncomfortable, and his jests were no more a sign of merriment or malice than Sansa's courtesies a sign of respect; both were done out of necessity and as coping mechanisms.
Gendry set his jaw, the young man remaining silent in the face of Jaime's taunts despite his growing anger. Sandor, however, knew Gendry was not the one he needed to keep his eye on.
His green eyes twinkling, Jaime went on with his jest. "I must congratulate you on being the only Baratheon bastard to survive my son, though in reality it is Clegane here whom I should be congratulating-well done, Hound."
"Shut up lion!" Arya protectively stepped in front of Gendry, as though the young, heavily muscled blacksmith, who Sandor had seen cut down several men with ease, was unable to protect himself.
He knew better than to turn away from Arya, who looked poised to pounce on the Kingslayer at his words. Sandor hoped Jaime wouldn't continue his gibes, for it would take very little before the wolf girl skewered his liver with her narrow blade.
As if reading his thoughts, Sansa sighed heavily moved to stand between her sister and Jaime. "Enough, I beg you, Ser Jaime. Why must you mock us? You proved your point and have your leave with our gratitude, so let this be an end to it. Lady Brienne, control your prisoner."
"Beg pardons, my lady." Brienne jerked at his shackles once more. "Enough with you now. You want the Starks to take your head before you leave Riverrun?"
"She speaks truly, Ser Jaime; you would do well to listen to her."
"My, you are beautiful when you are angry. You are a lucky man indeed Clegane." Jaime raised his eyebrow at Sansa and then started to allow his eyes to travel over her figure before Sandor wrenched his head around to face him.
"Shut the fuck up and behave yourself or else I let my goodsister gut you like a pig." Sandor snarled, though he knew Jaime only made the lurid remark to get further under Sansa's skin and meant no real harm.
Her gray eyes glinting murderously, Arya slowly circled back around the man as Sandor had taught her, the girl never taking her eyes off of Jaime. Her somewhat predatory behavior noticeably unnerving Brienne in the process, and it was all Sandor could do not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of their situation.
"One more word from you and I'll stick you with Needle, Kingslayer!" Arya growled, her voice echoing against the river rock corridor and reminding Sandor of his own.
"What is she doing?" Brienne asked while hesitantly gripping her sword and mirroring Arya's stance.
"Don't you know?" Sandor smirked at her. "I thought you were a knight."
"I am not a knight." Brienne answered quietly, her crystal blue eyes flickering to the ground as she spoke.
"You served on Renly's Kingsguard. Didn't he knight you?"
"He was too busy knighting Loras." Jaime muttered somewhat bitterly, his words earning a derisive snort from Sandor.
Brienne's knuckles whited on the hilt of her blade. "Yes, well not exactly, I suppose in a manner of speaking he-"
"You need not explain it to Clegane here," Jaime irritably interrupted, the man surprising Sandor with his increasingly defensive tone. "It is not of his business."
At the sound of his voice, Arya lunged forward, digging the tip of her blade into Jaime's neck. "No one asked you to speak. If you interrupt my goodbrother once more, I'll cut your throat myself."
"You would kill me despite the deal your father bartered for me?" Jaime eyed her warily.
"Yes, no matter the bargain my father struck, understand?" Arya stared into his eyes, the abject hatred there unsettling even to Sandor.
Jaime met Arya's gaze, and for perhaps the first time, Sandor saw him turn away first, visibly saddened by what he had seen in the young girl's eyes.
Sandor snarled. "Why did you come to us? You'll not be guarding my wife or her sister, ever, believe that."
"Of course, Clegane. I was sent to bring you into the Great Hall."
"What of my wife and goodsister? And what of Gendry?" Sandor leaned closer to her, his eyes narrowing as he did so.
"They are to come as well, as is the young man in your company." Though she looked him square in the face, Sandor was not convinced she could be trusted.
Gendry and Arya exchanged a nervous glance, but Sansa quickly placed her hands on each of their shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "It will be alright. Sandor won't allow anything to happen to us."
Jaime chuckled wickedly at her words. "So certain of that you are, Lady Sansa? The Hound here seems to have thoroughly tamed the wolf in you."
"Not another word, lion," Sandor grabbed Jaime by the scruff of the neck, shaking the man like the dog to whom he was so often likened. "Or I'll cut out your tongue myself."
Jaime was still laughing. "Forgive me, my lady, I meant no disrespect. I was merely pointing out the altogether unexpected changes your marriage has brought about in each of your dispositions."
"And what would you know of my disposition?" Sansa asked haughtily. "You know me not, other than by sight, so I'll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself or else Sandor will make good on his threats, I can assure you."
"And what of your sister?"
Sandor stood beside Arya. "My sister does not make threats, no more than my husband. If Arya should decide to act, you will feel her blade in your belly and neither Brienne nor Sandor will be able to stop her."
A commotion at the other end of the corridor drew their attention away from Sansa.
"What is this now?" Jaime nodded toward the great hall. The Greatjon, Maege and Dacey Mormont and the Blackfish escorted Walder Frey, Ramsay and Roose Bolton toward the dais.
Sandor bit the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood at the sight of the traitors standing before Robb, Lord Eddard, Edmure and the Blackfish. "Stay back, all of you." He insisted, waving them into a nearby alcove. "Keep on the watch and hidden from view. I'll see what this is about."
"But Sandor you are hurt-" Sansa reached out to him and slipped her hand into his own, the fear in her eyes angering him further still. "Please my love, do be careful of your injury. We will be on the road soon, with no maester to tend you-I cannot bear for it to get worse." Lowering her eyes, Sansa sighed shakily at the last word, the almost imperceptible gesture cleaving Sandor's heart.
"I'll live, Sansa, believe that. I have no intention of starting a fight, but should it come to that, I've fought with far worse so calm yourself, lass," Sandor raised her hands to his lips and kissed each of them tenderly, the man understanding that the lingering effects of the milk of the poppy fairly accounted for her melancholy as much as their departure. "Now let me see to this."
She nodded sadly and moved beside Gendry, who gently placed his hand on her arm. "It will be alright, my lady. Take your ease and let us handle this."
Sandor watched Sansa's brow furrow but quickly she unsheathed her knife and ducked into the shadows. Brienne silently moved beside him.
Arya glanced between them. "We'll see to Sansa, Hound. Don't worry; she's still a bit teary from the milk of the poppy is all. Gendry, get your weapons readied now. We don't know who might be about."
After unsheathing both greatsword and short sword, Sandor hardened his face into the visage of the Hound. He heard Jaime's and Brienne's footsteps falling fast behind him. Curling his lip into a snarl, Sandor stalked toward the Boltons and Walder Frey, the man secretly pleased to see the three men start at the sight of him. Raising his greatsword, Sandor pointed at Walder Frey. "Lord Frey, your men tried to kill my wife. Cut her hand in the struggle too. What do you have to say?"
Roose Bolton stepped away from Walder Frey, only to be held firmly in place by Brienne. "Your men were involved too, were they not?" She asked quietly while digging the hilt of her sword in between his shoulder blades. "Answer him."
"I don't know what you mean, my lady." Roose answered mockingly.
Sandor spat at his feet. "You will be, by the time I'm through with you."
Maege Mormont chuckled at his words while scratching her chin on the flat of her axe while the Blackfish, Edmure and Ned all moved away from Sandor.
"Are you going to just allow the Hound to have his way in your family seat, Lord Edmure?" Lord Walder tisked low. "Your father Hoster would turn over-"
"Do not presume to speak of my father," Lady Catelyn stepped forward, "neither will you spout your assumptions on his behavior here. He would not have tolerated any man under his roof that would plot to assassinate his grandchildren, I can promise you that!"
Brynden Tully placed his hand on Lady Catelyn's back. "The punishment is the same across the Seven kingdoms, and my brother would see them enforced in his own house. Lord Edmure will oversee as the heads of the family whose members were attacked mete out justice for their wounded. That would be you, Lord Stark and you, Lord Robb. And since Sansa was also wounded, that would include you, too, Sandor Clegane."
At the sound of his name, Sandor bared his teeth at both men. "Hand over the men who gave the order, or get cut down, one."
"You cannot speak to us this way! We come from respectable houses-"
Robb struck Roose hard across the jaw, silencing the man. "That is not the answer my goodbrother was seeking. Answer him; who gave the order?"
Walder Frey blurted out, "It was the bastard of Bolton! He planned it! I would never have thought of such if not for him and Lord Tywin's promises!"
Roose looked as though he could slit the old man's throat himself, but Brienne held fast.
"You are sworn to the service of our house," Robb stared at him levelly. "How could you betray us for Lannister gold?"
"I had nothing to do with it." His answer came weakly as he glared at Ramsay, who merely laughed at his father's words.
"He said it would end the war!" Lord Frey explained.
"He promised to make you rich, you mean," Ned shouted out. "Take them!" Brienne and Sandor quickly shackled the three men, who apparently knew better than to struggle.
"I did it for you," the young man hissed in return, his face suddenly darkening as he spoke. "You should be Lord of Winterfell, not these men." Ramsay spit on the ground.
"You had nothing to do with it, you say, Lord Bolton? How is that possible? Your men would not follow this bastard born man with no name and no titles without your lead."
When Roose hesitated, Sandor plunged his greatsword into the man's belly, spilling his intestines out on to the limestone floor. Brienne hurriedly stepped in front of Lady Catelyn, grimly watching him as she did so.
When Ramsay tried to speak, Sandor then did the same to him, his actions startling the rest. "I'm not listening to one more shit word that comes out of their lying throats! They'll be entering the Seven hells together now," Sandor sneered
Walder Frey blubbered his explanations incoherently but Sandor paid him no mind as he looked expected to meet Lady Catelyn's horrified face, but instead, she leaned down and looked into Roose Bolton's eyes as his lifeblood poured out of him.
"My children and my unborn grandchild. You would have taken them from me, Lord Bolton. Go into the Seven hells for it." She whispered before returning to Ned's side.
"Goodson, escort Walder back to his host." Ned ordered, gesturing to the nearby soldiers to carry the body of Roose Bolton away.
"With pleasure," Sandor growled low. Yanking the weaselly man close, he hissed in his ear, "Get ready to meet your gods, Frey."
"Lord Eddard, you cannot do this! I-I-" Lord Frey's wailing was soon silenced as Sandor pulled him from the room and the sharp, unmistakable crack of bone echoed in the hall. To his surprise, no one came to see about the sound. When the body of Walder Frey returned to his men with no explanation from Sandor as to his manner of death, Brynden Tully called for Maester Vyman to examine the man, who then swiftly concluded the old man died falling down one of the many staircases in Riverrun.
