Surprisingly, there had been no raised voices, no confrontation and no tears that entire day. It had passed with a seemingly uneventful silence, yet to anyone who knew the Spiridons well, there was a definite undertone. Sandor had not worked for Faelus before he had brought Merta Marena here as his bride, but he had heard many tales of her composure. Her father he was told would wake her in the night and have her stand on their balcony in chilling temperatures and lecture her on the stories of the Gods. The aim was to give her patience and restraint and perhaps more obviously, make her accustomed to the many self important men who liked the sound of their own voice.

Faelus had spent the afternoon pawing over his books, his prick having being satisfied. Now he found it necessary to exercise his brain too. Meanwhile the cook and servants prepped and polished the house to perfection, though hardly anything was amiss. So where was Lady Spiridon? Her presence felt so absent despite the known fact she was in her chamber. So when Sandor was called mid afternoon, he was surprised.

The door was open as he approached and for some reason, Sandor felt a little uneasy advancing towards it. She was stood by the window, a mid summer breeze blowing her drapes and the skirt of her dress gently. Her eyes stayed fixed on the distance when he stood in the doorway, his large frame blocking everything behind him. Sandor had no airs about him, but he wasn't fond of waiting. Though as he observed her, he didn't see the normal haughtiness of those higher than he, but Merta Spiridon was a woman who knew her worth. It was true, she was beautiful, and any man who did not look upon her and desire her would either be drawn to men or animals.

At last she turned to look at him, her fair skin and high cheekbones giving her face a marbelesque look. She took him in with her dark gaze and observed him for a long moment. How he wished she would just spit out what she had to say, silence was only a blessing in a fool's company. This woman was no fool, her gaze would disarm a legion let alone he or Faelus.

"Such a quiet day, Clegane."

Sandor wasn't sure what her first words would be but he hoped for something that he would see the use in replying to. When he did not reply a smile broadened on her face.

"You look so stern, Clegane. Come in."

He obliged her and took a few steps into the room, Merta watched him, his defiant reluctance clearly amused her and she moved towards him. Looking him over her face became neutral again, the proud eyes examining him closely.

"Oh Clegane, I called you here because you seem the only person under this roof worth speaking to. Do not make me wish I had taken up words with the wall."

"I am not sure what you want me to say." Sandor replied gruffly, not intimidated in any way now, he would show her he was not available to exchange nonsense. "I have no thoughts about the weather."

"Very well, if you wish me to be blunt I shall be." She inhaled deeply and her lips upturned ever so slightly. "Which one of those girls do you fuck?"

He was surprised at this question; he imagined she would quiz him about her husband, not his own dealings.

"None, madame."

"Not even when paid?"

"No."

"Oh, don't take offence Clegane, your face looks so sour." She trilled. "I did not imply that payment was a necessity."

Sandor said nothing, her words could not touch him. Despite the regular comments about the waxy exterior of his skin it was undeniably thick.

"That girl with the firey curls…" She began and now Sandor was pleased they were reaching the point of his being called. "Where is she from?"

"I am not sure."

"She is exotic, I wonder how Casden managed to procure such a beauty, or rather how beauty became so needful of employment."

"I do not make a habit of becoming Enza's confidente, we do not tend to… chatter…"

"Like women you mean?"

Sandor again said nothing.

"Speak your mind Clegane, please… I hate my husband for never being thus…."

"I am not your husband."

"Nor anyone's?"

"Fortunately." He ground dryly and she laughed now.

"For yourself." She laughed lightly, "Yes we are difficult."

A pause fell between them, she chewed her lip.

"Do you mind me asking what you wish me to do for you?"

"Well…" She paused to consider but then moving to the window, a seemingly safer distance she asked. "If I asked you to fuck me here would you?"

"I do not think…"

"Would you?"

Sandor would happily fuck any woman who looked as she, being married to a man such as Faelus would allow any other man to excel when given the chance. However he was sensible, Faelus was his employer and would not take kindly to another man, an employee bedding his wife.

"Fear not, Clegane. I am not asking that of you." She explained. "I merely like to shock to see what kind of man stands in front of me."

Tired of the conversation, Sandor moved towards the door to leave the room. This was not Kings Landing, if he walked out on his mistress he may be dismissed, yet a man such as he would find another job easily. But part of him was testing to see just how far he could go before getting a reaction from a woman such as she. She could laugh; she could look stern and act like an ice queen. The true test of any woman's character was when a man did not wish to listen further, regardless of his station, or so he thought.

He was through the doorway before she called after him, yet her tone did not stop him.

"I'll be thinking things over though, Clegane. Thank you for being blunt."

He took a few more paces before stopping and when passing the corner from her room he stopped himself and allowed himself to feel the anger flooding through him. Any less of a woman would have had him turning on his heel and invading her space before she knew where she stood. He would have seized her and yanked her close to his face, his breath and spit harsh on her skin as he upbraided her with a harsh truthful tirade about how despite any beauty she was inconsequential. He could snap her neck, break her jaw or fuck her bloody and she would have no power at all. Those eyes would dim in spirit and her body would be mortal, breaking and yielding how he willed it. A fine lady she may be, but his hands could render privileged bone or common flesh to mere pulp.

Then his mind went back to that very morning, how he had shown Aelis a window of this strength, of this ability and how it had thrilled his baser nature. How it had reacted in his loins, in his blood and in his mind. Yet as he considered it, Lady Spiridon brought out a twinge of that too, a strong spirit encased in flesh and bone, as malleable as clay. He had seen many of these women, Westeros seemed to breed a few of their pedigree, though they varied in their class. They feared him and yet they did not. It was infuriating to be seen as a threat, yet a spectacle and even as a vessel for redemption. Some of them dared to look kindly at him for a fleeting moment but he would soon show them. He showed them the spirit born from when his face was thrust in the fire, for from then he had to change, he was a child no more. He was kind no more. Sandor Clegane only was, there was nothing else to say.

"Existence is a funny thing isn't it." A voice whispered near him, he turned abruptly and found Merta stood close by him in the dark corridor. "We merely be, we can all feel, but we just are."

"I do not have the time to think about such things." He remarked scornfully. "You seem to have much. Perhaps you could sew like other women."

He felt her smile in the dark though he could not really see her, the air between them seemed to have changed a little. She took a step closer; he could smell her perfume for the first time. Merta Spiridon emanated a power he had seen in very few and for a fleeting moment now, he was concerned.

"Do you know what I think Clegane?" She took in a shallow breath, light and happy and her next words had a giddy air about them. "I think I am going to pay to watch you fuck that pretty little tavern maid until she screams with pleasure."

Merta's eyes fell on him a moment, he felt their gaze but as he was considering a reply she walked away and he heard her door close with deliberate purpose. This indeed was a remarkable woman. He stood there calculating his next move; this was a more complex battlefield than he had anticipated. It had been a long time since he had had an enemy, perhaps this bored wife and her power games was a more formidable one than any battle could muster.