Tyrion made his way down the wide thoroughfare slowly. It was a dark night, but it always seemed too dark now. He supposed that was to be expected when half the city was still in ruins and less than half of it was populated. It had been four moons since the fateful day when Daenerys Targaryen, last of her name, had laid waste to this city he had called home for much of his adult life. He shuddered slightly remembering the flames and the screams of the dying, and then after, when he had been imprisoned he had the seen the smoke of the funeral pyres for days on end. So many dead, it seemed as though it would never end. But when it did, Tyrion thought, the one constant in all the horror, pain, and cruelty he had seen, and he had seen his fair share, was that life continues on. Slowly, the signs of life were beginning to spark in the city. Not life as it was, but with any hope possibly life that was better. Bran was so far a good and wise king. He was a bit odd, and may not have taken to the crown with the ease that certain others had, but if he was being honest with himself, that was part of the reason Tyrion had recommended him in the first place. Things had to be different, and so far, they had been. They had reached a sort of comfortable routine in their small council. Himself, Brienne of Tarth, Grand Maester Samwell Tarly, Ser Davos Seaworth, and Ser Bronn-no wait Tyrion corrected himself-Lord Bronn of High Garden, made a comfortable if not all together conventional team. Yet there were other positions within the city and the Kings service that needed to be filled and that's what had him out in the streets tonight.
A cold breeze came gusting down an alley making Tyrion pull his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He hated everything about winter. Here in Kings Landing the winter had been mild, especially compared to the brutality of the weather he'd endured in the North, but it set a chill in his bones none the less. He stopped to read the street signs to either side of him and then ducked down the smaller street on the left. If he was honest with himself he wasn't quite sure if he was hoping this secretive mission he had tasked himself with would be successful or a dead end. When he had first been passed the piece of information through his network of contacts, a new Master of Whispers had yet to be found so Tyrion was doing his best to control the flow of information as the Hand, he had let it churn in his mind for several days, unsure of whether he wanted to act or not. In the end, as was often the case in his life, he decided that he had to know the truth. Whatever he decided to do with the knowledge was a problem for another day, but not knowing, wasn't something he could abide.
He was counting doors now as he walked, when he reached the sixth door on the right hand side of the street he stopped and looked around quickly. He almost unconsciously pulled his hood down lower over his face. He knew that there was no real need for secrecy either the face waiting for him on the other side of the door would be one he'd known for most of his life, or more likely, it would just be another fanciful tale being spread after the battle. After all, he'd seen the Red Keep aflame, seen the aftermath and wreckage. Seen the broken bodies of his siblings, lying beneath it. No one who had been in that place could have survived, it was madness to even consider. Yet if anyone could.
"It would be him." Tyrion muttered to himself as he knocked on the door.
The door was opened by a girl who couldn't have been older than ten. She stood only slightly taller than him, and the hair on one side of he head was short and patchy where it had obviously been singed off and was only just growing back. She took one look at Tyrion and her eyes widened.
"Pa!" She called, "It's the Hand! He's come for Ray!"
The girl disappeared from the doorway and a moment later was replaced by a skinny man with greying hair and a thin beard. His left arm was in a sling tucked tight to his chest and Tyrion could see his hand was missing three fingers.
"Had a feeling we'd see you eventually M'lord Hand." He said and a deep baleful voice, "Ray always said he wasn't the type who could stay hidden away forever. Come in."
Tyrion walked over the threshold into the small house. It had a low ceiling that was hung with various smoked meats, and strands of fruits and vegetables. The man walked directly through the main part of the house and opened a door that led to the back.
"He's out in the courtyard with my wife. He helps her get the animals penned up for the night. He's been a great blessing to us the past few moon turns. Ever since this." He held up his maimed hand.
"My wife's a healer. Helped as many as she could after the city burned. We weren't sure Ray was going to make it. Almost lost him several times, but something in that man just wanted to live."
Tyrion snorted.
"Something funny about that?" The man asked.
"Not so much funny, as ironic. If the man you call Ray is who I believe him to be." Tyrion answered.
A kind faced woman with dark curly hair walked through the door the man was holding open. She looked from her husband to Tyrion. Understanding passed across her face and she nodded.
"He's just finishing putting the animals in for the night." She said as she walked past him, "far side of the courtyard."
Tyrion nodded to her and walked through the door. He was in awalled courtyard behind the house. On the far side was a small out building that he assumed served as their stable. He heard the clucking of chickens and the moo of a cow. As he made to walk across the cobblestone yard a man emerged from the stable. He was tall enough that he had to duck to clear the door way, his dark hair had almost reached his shoulders and he had a beard that had grown so thick it almost obscured his mouth, but his ruined face was one that Tyrion could never mistake. He'd been looking at it most of his life. The man raised his eyes to meet Tyrion's and a dry smile twitched on the good corner of his mouth.
"I always knew one of you castle dwelling fuckers would find me eventually . Should have know it would be you Lannister." said Sandor Clegane.
Tyrion stood frozen in shock. When he'd heard the whispers that a giant of a man with a scarred face was seen in the eastern market, and was living with one of the vendors he'd known he wanted to investigate, but he was realizing he never really expected it to be true.
"You going to stand there all day with your tongue flapping in the wind, or are you going to say what you came here to say?" growled Clegane.
As he moved to sit on a large barrel leaning against the stable, Tyrion took note that his movements were slower than he remembered. The limp he'd gotten from a previous fight with Brienne was more pronounced, and he seemed to be favoring his right side. Tyrion made his way across the courtyard and sat on a crate a few feet from him, Clegane didn't acknowledge him but took a long drink from a leather flask he must have had on his person.
"I didn't have anything specific in mind to say to you when I came." Tyrion finally said, "I suppose I just wanted to know if it was really you."
Clegane gave a derisive snort in response and took another swig.
"I guess the most pertinent question would be. How the fuck are you alive Clegane?" Said Tyrion.
"You know...you're not the first man to ask me that question. There's some sort of twisted irony in it. The man that never dies...I'm the gods most heinous fucking joke." said Clegane.
"Yes but how..." Tyrion pressed, "The last person to see you to my knowledge was Arya Stark. She told her brother Jon you were both in the castle, and you told her to turn back. Told her not to die for revenge. She seemed to think you intended to."
"I did." Clegane said, "How is the little Stark bitch?" He asked, "She make it out alright? Run off and marry that pretty boy they gave Storms End to?"
"Not to my knowledge." Said Tyrion, "She charted a ship, flying the dire wolf of her house and headed west. To find what's West of Westeros, she said. No one's heard from her since."
Clegane smiled and took another drink from his flask.
"Good for her." He said, "If anyone could do it, it'd be that crazy little one."
They sat there in silence, the unanswered questions hanging thick in the air between them. Finally Clegane spoke again.
"I wasn't necessarily trying to die. I just knew I would. There was only one thing in the world that mattered. For along time, everything was fucked. I didn't know who I was, or if there was a purpose for anything in this damned shit show of a world. But in that moment I knew, it was so clear. And dying to get there was a fair trade." He paused to take a drink before continuing, "He didn't make it easy my brother. He was winning, taking me down piece by piece. It's ironic, Qyburn turned him into that thing, everyone said he made him a monster, but he didn't. He was always a monster. Qyburn just showed him to the world as he was. I was dying, and as he crushed the life out of me everything went calm, and I saw it. We were going to die together, it was always going to end that way. As we went flying off the Red Keep I felt true peace for the first time in my life."
"But you didn't die." Tyrion pointed out.
"Amazing skills of deduction you have Lannister," Clegane growled, "did your little three eyed raven king tell you that one? No, I didn't die. We plummeted towards the ground but part of the way down we collided with a spire jutting out. Gregor was under me and took the brunt of the impact. I watched his body snap in half like a broken blade, and I didn't fair much better. Call it dumb luck, the will of the gods, or whatever the fuck you want, but I had just enough strength to throw myself through a hole in the side of the keep and lay there unable to move, body broken, praying the fire couldn't reach me. That's what it really came down to in the end, I wasn't afraid to die, but not by burning. That I couldn't face."
" And these people found you?" Tyrion asked, motioning to the house.
" Two days later." He answered, "A group was picking through the rubble looking for survivors."
"And you've been here ever since? Pardon my asking, but why? It seems like you're neither here nor there. You live here under a false name, doing peasants work, which would indicate you want to leave your old life behind. Yet you stay here in Kings Landing, knowing as you said, we would eventually find you. It seems in some ways, almost as if you wanted to be found."
"You give me more credit than I've fucking earned." Clegane said roughly, "You're the one who thinks through every move before you make it. I stayed because for quite awhile I didn't have choice. I'm just barely on my feet now. And then there's them." He motioned to the house, "They needed me. So I helped. There are worse ways to live. At least I'm doing something worth doing. For whatever good it does."
Tyrion shifted slightly on the crate, and stole a glance at the man next to him.
" There are other ways you can help in this city Clegane." He said, "Plenty of worthy things that need doing."
" And here it is," said Clegane, "I knew we'd get around to it eventually."
Tyrion paused, considering his next words carefully.
"How long have we known each other Clegane?" He asked.
"Too fucking long." The big man growled.
"It occurs to me that you may be the only person left in this damned world that I've known for as long as I can remember." said Tyrion. "It may surprise you to know this but I actually remember you before that."
Tyrion motioned to the mass of scars that covered the left side of Clegane's head and face. Clegane shot him a side ways glance but didn't otherwise acknowledge him.
"I was around four or five, and you must have been close to the same age. There was tourney at the Rock and everyone came. People were already talking about your brother, just coming of age and already a head taller than many of the tourney knights, and twice as strong. During the melee I saw your family in the stands and remember how envious I was, not only that all of you Gregor, you, and your father were so big and strong. But how happy you looked on your fathers shoulders. The way your mother ruffled your hair. You weren't always as you are now. People never seem to remember that. But I wanted you to know I do."
"It doesn't matter." Clegane said gruffly.
"I disagree." Said Tyrion, "Life has dealt you a shit hand. Several shit hands if we're being honest. And the shittiness of people has made in infinitely worse. Life was cold and cruel to you, and it made you cold and cruel. I'm not naive Clegane, I know the things you've done. But I believe at your core, you are a good man, or at least you want to be one. It's the execution that you're a bit muddled on."
" And you think you're the one to un-muddle that for me do you?" He asked.
"Gods no! I'm just as lost as you, if not more. At least you have some valiant acts to your name. I've spent the majority of my life being a whore mongering hedonist little lecher. What I do have, is a job that needs to be done. I think you'd be the ideal man for it, and I think you could do some actual good." Said Tyrion.
"Let's hear it then." Said Clegane, tossing his now empty flask into a pile of hay and rubbing his stiff left leg.
"I want you to become the Commander of the City Watch." Said Tyrion.
At this Sandor Clegane laughed outright.
"You want me to command the fucking Gold Cloaks?" He said incredulously, "Chopping hands off thieves and gelding rapists?"
" You know there's more to it than that." Said Tyrion, "but yes. Things are peaceful in Kings Landing right now for the most part, but we all know it won't last. We need a force to keep the peace, and one the people fear. For better or worse your family name still strikes fear. For all your faults Clegane you've always been a just man, you protect the innocent when you can, try to deal as fairly as you can, and you may not be the most honorable man, but you have your own code, and you stand by it. I need someone like you. Someone who will do what needs to be done. Someone who will actually make this city better not pad his own pockets like that sniveling coward Janos Slint. Someone not afraid to get his hands dirty to get results."
"Alright alright...enough of the speeches,I get the picture." grumbled Clegane.
"So what do you think?" Asked Tyrion.
"I think you talk too damn much." He answered.
"You always said you hated this city. We have real chance to make it something better. Be part of it." Said Tyrion.
Clegane sighed.
"I'll consider it." He said finally, "but don't hold your breathe."
"Fair, enough." Said Tyrion, "if you decide to take me up on the offer."
" I know where to find you." retorted Clegane nodding his head towards Aegon's High Hill in the distance. He stood and walked back towards the stable. Tyrion realized it must be where he was staying. A question popped into his mind suddenly and he blurted it out.
"Clegane! Why Ray?" He asked.
Clegane was already to the doorway as his head turned with what seemed to Tyrion to be an almost sad smile.
"The name of an old friend." He said.
"You've had friends?" Tyrion jibed.
"Just the one." Clegane said, and he ducked through the door closing it behind him.