So. It's been a while since I;ve updated and that is because some ASSHOLE stole my tablet. Which had all of my current chapters a notes for this story on it. so this will be my last update for a while, until i can write it... again.

Sandor Clegane sat quietly at the top of The Red Keeps Walls. IN the distance he could see the sails of Stannis Baratheon's ships, yet the harbor of The Lannister's side sat oddly empty. Their fleet was nowhere in sight and it left him feeling incredibly grim and antsy. He fiought the urge to pace, which he knew would have made him feel tenfold better.

"Hound, tell him that his King has asked him a question." King Joffrey's voice came suddenly. Sandor, who had not heard what the Ninny King said in the first place, rolled his eyes, biting back a sigh.

"The King has asked you a question." Sandor replied, completely lack luster, though he doubt the King could hear his distaste in his voice. The imp, who Jofferey had addressed, did not turn around when he spoke.

"Sir Lancel. Tell the Hound to tell the King that The Hand is extremely busy." Lancel Turned to the Hound awkwardly, Sandor watched him from the corner of his eyes, annoyed.

"Hound, The Hand of the King would like me to tell you to tell the King that-"

"If I tell the Hound to cut you in half, he'll do it without a second thought!" The Ninny King informed the imp. Oh how Sandor loved when Joffrey spoke for him.

"Then that would make me the quarter man." Tyrion Lannister shot back with no hesitation. "It just doesn't have the same ring to it." He hummed, turning back to the bay. "Cut me in half and I wont be able to give the signal, no signal, no plan. No plan and Stannis Baratheon sacks this city, takes the Iron Throne and puts your pinched little head atop a gate somewhere." Tyrion paused, smiling impishly at the King. "It might be quite amusing, except that my head would be up there too. I much like my head and don't want to see it removed just yet." The Hound smirked to himself as the Ninny king sat speechless. For what it was worth, he decided he liked the imp.

The imp began calling for archers to make their marks and to ready the citadel walls. Sandor could feel the adrenaline pumping through his temples. Tyrion told them to hold, obviously to wait for a clear target, but Jofferey didn't have much patience and he started berating his uncle. The two began to bicker, but Sandor drowned them out, he needed to focus on what was ahead of him.

The Hound was surprised to see only one Lannister ship on the horizon. This was quiet irregular, he had no idea what the imp had been planning, and that fact scared him. Now he did not know what to expect and he did not like it one bit. He growled under his breath and swore that next time he would make himself privy to the Short Lords plans before barging in half baked.

Next to him, the imp took a torch from once of their fellow soldiers, waving it much to close for Sandor's comfort. He flinched, flinched, as he stepped aside, his heart going, but he did not miss Tyrion drop the torch from where he stood on the wall. It was quiet for several seconds, until a single flaming arrow cut through the sky from an island in front of them. Sandor watched it fly, his head cocked, because what would a single arrow do? The arrow made its way to the ocean by Stannis Baratheon's fleet, where he expected it to fizzle as it hit the water. Fizzle it did not, and instead ignited the bay in an eruption of green.

"Wildfire..." He whispered to himself, as he braced against the explosion. The sky went up green, half of Stannis's fleet consumed by it's heat. He could hear the Baratheon men screaming and the heat of the flames caused the hound to take several shallow breaths. He could feel his resolve withering. He did not like fire.

Surprisingly enough, what remained of Stannis men began to row towards the walls in row boats, they planned to take the city still. Sandor, who had yet to recover fully from the fiery explosion, watched as their archers took aim with their fire tipped arrows. Men fell on the beach below, their comrades in arms running past them, yelling war cries. The Baratheon men grew too close to the walls for arrows to be effective and instead the Lannister men took to throwing rocks over the parapets.

It was now the Hound's turn as he led his men quickly down through Wall Mud and onto teh battle field. As he led his men out onto the battle field he knew he was in his element. He could feel his confidence returning as he took that first step onto the beach.

"Any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" He shouted as his soldiers ran past him. Bloodshed all around him as he swung his mighty sword, taking an arm, a leg or a head with it. Bodies dropped around him, the wailing of men could be heard. His sword was heavy, but he swung away, piling up bodies in his wake.

Several feet away, screaming could be heard, and Sandor looked up to find a Baratheon soldier running at him full force. Usually Sandor would have dealt with him easily, but the man was a giant fireball with legs. The Hound froze instantly, his fear hitting him in waves. His sword shook violently in his hand as the soldier grew closer, and his mind flew to Elyria. Would she miss him? What would happen to her if he were gone? Surprisingly, the man dropped a few feet from Sandor's frozen form, but it was not by his hands.

"Fuck me." Sandor coughed, his throat tight as he stared down at the man. Looking over he spotted the imp's sell sword holding a bow and baring a cheeky grin. Bronn seemed like he was going to say something to Sandor, but stopped as several Baratheon men rushed him.

It was in this moment that Sandor took in his surroundings: The beach was on fire from the debris that had floated in from Blackwater Bay. He noticed his numbers had dwindled from many to too few in mere minutes, they were outnumbered by the Baratheon's, out numbered and their formation was in shambles. Everywhere he looked men died or fire burned, and in a stupor he turned back for the Wall door.

Once inside, the door was barricaded behind him and immediately he called for a page boy. The boy offered him a drink skin, which he took eagerly. It was water and he spat it over the young boy. He needed a drink right now, he needed to sort out his emotions. Damn that Dornish woman!

"Fuck the water. Bring me wine!" He shouted, to which the boy handed him another skin. He drank from it in big gulps, taking several before removing the flask from his lips.

"Can I get you anything? A nice bowl of raspberries maybe?" He heard the imp complain from above him on the stairs. Sandor regarded him with contempt from where he stood below.

"Eat shit dwarf." Sandor scowled, taking another swig of wine. The imp was going to lecture him? After he'd just been on the battlefield? Hah, no.

"You're on the wrong side of the wall." The Short Lord told him. Sandor spared a glance at the wall before returning his gaze to the imp.

"Imagine that." Sandor told him coolly. Tyrion Lannister gave him a deathly glare and Sandor sighed. "I lost half my men. The Blackwater is on fire."

"Dog! I command you to go back out there and fight!" The Ninny King shouted from behind the imp. Sandor took a calming breath, looking at the ground as he did. The brat always had to be commanding someone, or beating them. Elyria. Sandor dared not look up at his king because he knew if he did the boy would see the hate in his eyes,

"You're Kings Guard, Clegane! You must beat them back or they are going to take this city. your king's city!" The Little Lannister tried to rally him, but it fell on deaf ears. The Hound was angry and he was tired. He was afraid and he was done with the other side of that wall. If they'd wanted his help they should have not laid a fiery waste to it.

"Fuck the King's Guard." He said finally, looking at his wine skin. He took another drink, feeling both the Imp's eyes and King Jofferey's on him. "Fuck the city." He took another swig, this one burned his throat, and he looked up at his Ninny King. "Fuck the King." He spat, tossing the now empty wine skin to the ground.

Without another word he turned and walked away. It was not until he'd reached the gates for the city that he'd realized what he'd done. He'd committed treason and he knew he'd surely lose his head for it. Sandor needed to leave, that much was certain, and he made his way to the Royal Stables for his horse. Elyria. He thought suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

"Ah fuck me."