Author's note: When I initially posted this chapter on tumblr it took a long time to finish, not because it's a long chapter, but because I consider writing fight scenes to be one of my weakest points as an author, despite evidence to the contrary. Do not alarm yourself over the quality however, after I posted it I got an anonymous message declaring it was one of the best fight scenes they'd read in a fanfic.
Warning: Violent content, Sansa is totally over romanticizing Sandor and completely misjudging him. I did that on purpose.
Disclaimer: The only things in this story that are mine are the plot divergences and changes, all character, locations and recognizable plots belong to GRRM
A Sword with Wings
"Beric Dondarrion. You've seen better days…"
Sansa kept her eyes on her feet, sticking as close to Sandor as possible. She didn't care what the Brotherhood thought of her; his wife, his whore…they were strangers, and the last time she had been among a crowd of strangers things had gotten ugly fast. She needed the comfort of being near the only man she trusted to not hurt her.
"And I won't see them again," Beric replied, stepping closer.
Sansa whimpered as he approached, the Hound moved between them. He looked around the cave at the gathering of men and identified them all, "Stark deserters, Baratheon deserters. You lot ain't fighting in a war, you're running from it!" He growled disdainfully.
Beric was ready with a counter comment, "Last I heard, you were King Joffery's guard dog." He said, "Yet here you are, a thousand miles from home…Which of us is running?"
The reply didn't seem to phase Sandor at all. "Untie these ropes and we'll find out." He threatened, Beric didn't reply to the challenge so he continued, "What are you doing leading a bunch of peasants?"
"Lord Stark ordered me to execute your brother." Beric answered, "In King Robert's name."
"Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead… And my brother is alive." The Hound spat, glaring forward at Beric while continuing to shield Sansa from his gaze. Sansa tried not to whimper at the mention of her father. "Your fighting for ghosts."
Beric looked him right in the eye as he responded, "That's what we are, ghosts." He said, "Waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you…" It was a haunting line that once again, Sandor did not seem phased by as he continued to look Beric in the eye as well. "No matter who's cloak you wear. Lannister, Stark, Baratheon…You prey on the weak! The Brotherhood without Banners will hunt you down."
Now this, the Hound finally had a facial response for. Not surprise, or dread, but yet another disinterested snort, "Oh? Found god, is that it?"
Beric nodded, "I've been reborn in the Light of the One True God." He said proudly with a ghost of a smile on his lips, then he addressed the rest of the cave. "As have we all. As would any man who's seen the things we've seen."
Sansa could almost feel the Hound roll his eyes, "I've seen plenty." He replied, "What one man calls 'proof' of his god, another calls witchcraft. All over the place everyone thinks they've found the truth, everyone thinks they know better than anyone who believes differently. What makes your Lord of Light any more true than that damned ocean god they pray to on the Iron islands?"
That was an question Arya and Sansa both had troubling finding an answer to. Their own parents prayed to different gods, the Old and the New, yet had never once had their children heard them argue over who's god were the right ones.
"We are not here to argue religion Clegane." Beric said.
"Then what are we here for?" The Hound barked, "If you mean to murder mean, bloody well get on with it!" Sansa whimpered again, someone whispered a claim to his whore once they were done. How could he say that? Didn't he care about his life?
"You'll die soon enough dog." This reply did not come from Beric, "But it won't be murder…only justice."
"W-what?" Sansa squeaked
"The kind of fate he deserves." Someone else answered her, " Lions, You call yourselves. At the Mummer's Ford girls of seven years were raped. And babes, still on their mother's breast were cut in two while their mothers watched!"
There were a few angry murmurs, Sansa shifted and shot the Hound a look of horror. He glared at the speaker, "I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford!" He growled, "Dump your dead children at some other door!"
"House Clegane was built upon dead children!" Sansa couldn't keep back a gasp. "I saw prince Aegon and princess Rhaenys before the Iron throne."
Sansa opened her mouth, ready with an exclamation of horror, maybe a sharp word in Sandor's defense or perhaps to curse him for what she was hearing. The Hound glanced her way only a brief second before he snarled back, "Do you take me for my brother?" He turned around bellowing for the whole cave to hear, "Is being born Clegane a crime?"
"Murder is a crime!" A man in the crowd accused.
Sandor growled again, fuming but keeping a level argument, "I never touched the Targaryen babes!" He barked, though Sansa felt like he wasn't so much explaining this to the Brotherhood as he was trying to tell her the truth amongst all these accusations, "I never saw them! Never smelled them! Never heard them! You want to cut my throat, get on with it!"
Silence filled the cave for a second as no one seemed to want to infuriate the barking Hound any further, afraid of being bitten. Sandor spoke up again before anyone else found their voices. His tone was filled with a familiar venom, one Sansa was familiar with him using when he spoke of knights.
"But don't call me murderer…" He snarled, "And pretend that you're not."
The fear that Sansa had been feeling up to that point suddenly turned hot and angry as she realized why Sandor told them to kill him and get it over with. This brotherhood was no better than the knights of King's Landing. They spoke against the rape of young girls, yet she felt eyes on her, they accused Sandor of crimes committed by his family. Blamed him for atrocities carried out in places he was no where near. Called him a killer, when they killed in the name of their lords, both human and this Lord of Light.
In that moment, Sansa hated the Brotherhood without banners as much as Sandor did.
"You murdered Myca!" Sansa turned her head at her sister's sudden cry as Arya stepped closer to her and Sandor. "The butcher's boy, my friend!"
Sansa's stomach flipped as her sister described in detail how the Hound had killed the boy on the road to King's Landing. Oh no, Arya wasn't still going on about that was she? Sansa wanted to speak up in his defense, to remind Arya that it was Joffery that had ordered Myca's death, that Sandor had only been obeying his commands.
Not that long ago Sansa had been defending Joffery, reminding Arya that the Hound was the one that had killed Myca. Strange how things had changed. Too bad if she spoke up, Sansa would have to tell them how she knew, and in turn, who she was, and she couldn't do that.
Her sister's grudge could get Sandor killed! Maybe her too. She hoped Sandor didn't remember, or had the sense to claim not to have any idea what Arya was talking about, they could still get away if the Brotherhood had nothing to charge him with.
She felt the color drain from her face when Sandor turned to face them and he answered, "Aye, he was a bleeder." He said, confirming the death of Myca by his hands.
Beric looked between them, "You don't deny killing this boy?" Sansa wanted to cry, why hadn't he denied it? She'd back him up in a heartbeat if it meant getting them out of there alive.
A Hound will die for you, but never lie to you.
"I was Joffery's sworn shield, the boy attacked the prince." Sandor explained. That was why he had killed Myca, Sansa realized, the only reason he'd done it, Sandor would never have touched him otherwise.
She hoped with that explanation that would be the end of it, but Arya snapped, "That's a lie!" She glared at the Hound and at Sansa, angry that it was taking this long to get justice for her friend's death, "I hit Joffery, Myca just ran away!"
"Then I should have killed you." Sandor said, surprisingly calm as he turned away again, "It's not my place to question princes."
Silence filled the cave so that the only sound was the crackling of the fires. Sansa played back the entire encounter in her head, realizing slowly what Sandor had done and the position he had put the Brotherhood in.
He was brought in accused of terrible crimes, but the only ones he denied were the ones he was not involved with. When confronted with something he had actually done, Sandor did not deny it. He was questioned about it, he gave only an honest answer, he did it because Joffery had been attacked, it was his job to take care of the attacker.
Not only that, Sansa realized, but Sandor had said nothing about that fact, that he had only killed Myca because it was his job, being a justification for his actions. He did not beg for his life to be spared, only stared Beric Dondarrion down and dared him to sentence him to death.
If you're going to murder me, get on with it. Sansa's heart beat a little faster, was he accepting responsibility for his crime?
If that was the case, then that made him a more honest man than this entire Brotherhood. Sansa understood their hesitation, what if they killed this man and it turned out Arya was lying, what happened to them in the eyes of their god?
Sansa smiled more as she realized that was another advantage Sandor had over the Brotherhood. He may have killed Myca as part of his work for Joffery, but at least he wasn't hiding behind him to justify it like they hid behind their god.
Finally Beric spoke up again, talking to the Hound once more, "You stand accused of murder," he said and looked around the cave again, "But no one here knows the truth of the charge, so it's not for us to judge the Lord of Light may do that now…"
Sansa almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps they would let him go now, but instead Beric continued. "I sentence you to trial by combat."
Sandor's face remained passive as he looked around him, making brief eye contact with Sansa as he did. "So, who will it be?" He said, trial by combat would no trouble for him, she didn't doubt that he could kill any of the men gathered here. They didn't seem to doubt it either, for no one immediately volunteered to pass judgement, even as he singled out man after man, the priest, an archer he'd spoken to earlier, even Arya.
That was when Beric stepped forward, claiming his place as the challenger. Sansa was pulled away from Sandor, and both of them cut free from their ropes. Arya came to stand beside her sister, though a good view of the fight was probably also on her mind, and a man held her arm. Sansa was uncomfortable both with the man's grip and the sudden feeling like she was a prize to be given to the victor.
Sandor looked back at her, sharing some of the same feeling. Undoubtedly this was a trial not only for his own life, but for the fate of 'Jolee'. Why had she claimed to be his wife, any man could tell that wasn't true. Calling her his whore had kept her alive as a prisoner, but if Sansa had said she was his sister (like he had imagined she would when she gave them the name Jolee) perhaps they would have believed her,
After all, many men were fleeing the city with their families to avoid the war, and the Clegane's were just private enough that while some of these men may have heard about the young Clegane sister, his father would have made sure to cover up her death. Like he had covered up so many things.
A sword was given to Sandor while Beric and Thoros prayed to their fire god. It was dark, but when Sandor tested the blade's balance, he recognized the feel of his own sword in his hand. Good, if he was going to fight for his life he'd rather not do it with an unfamiliar weapon. A shield was also handed to him, the Hound didn't give much thought to using it.
He kept glancing back to Sansa while Thoros prayed over Beric and they prepared for the trial, Arya had moved closer, whether that was to be near her sister or just to get a good view of the fight, Sandor wasn't sure. Men were whispering and looking between Sandor and Sansa, their gazes mostly stayed on him. Good, let them whisper, let them think what they wanted. He didn't care if they thought of him as some dirty old dog, as long as the attention was kept on him, not on the pretty Little Bird.
She'd be in real trouble if anyone realized who his whore really was.
At last the priest seemed to be done, Sandor stepped forward ready for the fight, but just before Beric Donnarion stood he slid his blade across his palm and the unbelievable happened. The sword caught fire.
He jumped back a step in surprise. Fuck, he'd just left fires behind, now there was more, what kind of fucking shit was this? Sandor had already let his fear of fire best him once, not this time. This time he let it fuel him. Still, Sandor wanted this fight over sooner rather than later so he thrust his sword forward with all of his strength.
Beric blocked it.
Bastard was stronger than he looked. And faster. Even with his fear of the fire staying under control, Sandor found himself in a match with an opponent he'd underestimated. He switched his tactic from offense to defense so fluidly he doubted Beric noticed what he was doing, buying time to better study his movements so he could target a weakness. Using both his shield and his sword to block Beric's attacks while he lead a dance around the cavern floor.
Beric, though, had the advantage of being more familiar with the terrain. The crash of steel against steel and the thumps of wood echoed around the Hound, punctuated with the heavy grunts of the two men, and light from the fire made shadows look like they were going to leap out at him. He lost his footing where the ground shifted under him, and almost fell completely back when Beric thrust his sword forward.
Another similar mishap followed shortly after, one which had Sandor standing in the nearby fire. His clothes did not catch flame, but he could feel it's heat. He cried out as he stepped away, kicking more supplies, appearing to be trembling with rage, but his fear was starting to cripple his thinking.
He could almost feel Gregor's weight pressing him into the fire…
Sandor fought with more ferocity, he had seen enough of Beric's fighting. His sword clashed against the burning one, and he used his shield both to repel Beric's assaults and to attack. Sandor outweighed him, throwing his shield into Beric, knocking the other man over, but he was just fast enough to block yet another strike with the sword.
Beric rolled out of the way and when the Hound thrust his blade down he hit only the ground. The tables turned suddenly, as Beric threw strike after strike with his flaming sword. Fuck, if the damn thing weren't on fire Sandor wouldn't be so quick to retreat from it. The rock beneath him shifted again, he fell backward, and this time it was Sandor on the ground blocking a strike from above with his shield.
The burning blade struck the wood, and this time held there long enough to catch it on fire too. Sandor heard screaming echoing in his ears, his own screams, trapped in his skull. He couldn't remember getting back to his feet, but the Hound howled, throwing the flaming shield in front of him, causing his opponent to back away or catch flame himself. Around him a chant came up.
He knocked Beric to the ground again, he should have ended it then, but the fire was eating away his shield, the heat made his arm tremble. Foolishly he dropped his sword and tried to bat the flames out while his enemy was on the ground. Beric kicked the blade away and suddenly Sandor had no weapon and was being beaten back again.
His only defense was the flaming shield, and any moment those flames could consume him…
"Kill him!"
"Get your sword!"
The Stark girls shouted, demanding something different of each of the fighters. Sandor's eyes darted around, searching for his fallen sword. He spotted it, in the fire. Fuck, why'd it have to be in the fire? He dropped to the ground, barely avoiding decapitation and rolled to the fire. The hilt of the sword stuck out, but the blade was deep in the flames and Beric wasn't far behind him.
Sandor grabbed his sword while holding the shield in front of him to block the attack. His hand gripped it and he kicked forward, knocking Beric in the knees forcing him back a step, giving Sandor room to get back to his feet. The steel of his sword had turned red in the fire, super heated.
Fire now fought fire.
In the crowd, Sansa gasped at the sight of him. His helmet was missing, but the flaming shield, the red-hot sword…The was right out of her dream!
While Sansa could be swept away by the striking image, all Sandor wanted to do was scream. Fire on his shield, a super heated sword, the fire at his back and his enemy's sword also aflame. Fire was all around him, it finally broke the Hound. He howled and threw his arm blindly down on Beric.
This was it, his final stroke. Either he killed the man with it, or the next time Beric swung his sword it would be the end of Sandor.
The flaming sword rose to block the attack. Credit it to Sandor's superior strength, the weakness of the steal, or perhaps he was truly innocent in the eyes of their damn fire god, but Sandor's sword cut straight through Beric's. Into his shoulder the blade dug, it's red-hot steel searing through cloth and flesh, a scream echoed in Sandor ears, he had no idea who's. Could have been his own for all he knew.
All he cared was that the flames from his shield have finally jumped to his arm. He tried to rip his sword free, the result being that the hot metal fell free of the sword's hilt and clattered against the ground, still glowing red, but twisted now.
Sandor dropped the empty hilt and fell, first to his knees then to his back, batting at the flames again, tearing to free the cursed shield from his arm and put out the fire on his sleeve. It seemed an agonizing eternity, but at last the fires were out. Sandor's face was wet, a mix of sweat and tears, he hoped it was too dark for anyone to see.
The pounding of his heart settled enough for him to hear the stunned silence that had fallen, the only sounds were the continued crackling of the fires, his own ragged breath and Thoros chanting some religious nonsense.
He had won.
In the crowd of shocked on lookers, there was perhaps none more shocked than Arya Stark. No, not this couldn't be. The Hound was supposed to die! He murdered Myca, any god should have found him guilty!
Her shock turned to a black anger as the Hound laid on his back breathing heavily, and beside her Sansa let out an audible sigh of relief. Arya turned to her sister, but Sansa did not look back, her eyes were on the Hound, and his on her. Arya's gaze traveled down Sansa's body to her skirt and the knife she knew was concealed there.
He's guilty, Arya though, He's guilty and I know it even if the gods do not.
She moved almost as if she weren't in control of herself. She heard a voice protest, Gendry probably, but she wasn't listening. Arya dove to her sister's skirts and stole the knife before Sansa had even taken her eyes of the Hound.
With the knife in her hand she ran to him, her grip was so tight that her knuckles turned white. Gendry and Sansa both ran after her, trying to stop her, but she was already at the Hound's side. He'd discarded his shield and his sword lay a twisted ruin out of reach, but he was quick to guard his throat from her blade.
Which left is chest exposed, Arya flung it down, she wasn't counting but the knife had to have hit him several times before someone caught her wrist. She was crying, tears blurred her vision. The Hound cried out more in surprise and frustration than pain, it enraged her more.
Even as Arya lifted the knife high and drove it downward on to his chest with all her strength, she could feel that it wasn't doing much good, his armor was too tough for the small knife. The blade had good steel, though, she felt it sink in past cloth in the places that armor didn't cover. The Hound's grunt's of pain confirmed that she was at least hurting him.
"Arya don't!" Her sister begged in her ear, trying to yank her back.
"Let me go Sansa!" Arya screamed without thinking and struggled to free herself from her sister's grip, "Let me go! I'm going to kill him Sansa!"
It wasn't until Gendry's head snapped up that Arya realized what she had done. "Sansa?" He repeated.
Around them men of the Brotherhood without Banners cast glances at each other and then the two sisters, recognizing them as siblings and cursing themselves for not seeing the Hound's Bitch had been the other Stark girl the whole time.
Sansa released her grip on Arya, and the knife fell from the younger girl's hand. Arya felt like a fool, she was already doomed to whatever fate the Brotherhood had in mind for one Stark child, but Sansa could have walked away free. Now Arya had condemned them both.
Men started to walk forward. The Hound sat up, grunting as he did and clutching his chest, in the fire light Arya could see glistening stains on his armor. The blade wasn't strong enough to break through it entirely, but in a few places it had wedged between gaps and found it's mark.
He glared and gasped out at the Brother's "Touch her, and I'll kill you!"
The shocked silence returned as Thoros stopped his prayer, no one seemed to know what to do. "You've won your freedom." all eyes turned to the source of the words, Beric stood, healthy as he had been before Sandor nearly took his arm off.
Sansa gasped, that was impossible, he should have been dead! She looked at Sandor again he seemed as surprised as her. Beric stood and walked toward them, Sandor said nothing, "Our god has judged you innocent, perhaps R'hllor has some plan for you…."