Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in writing this chapter, I got stuck on a conversation transition towards the end of the chapter.
Warning: Arya's pov, language, Arya and Sandor acting like two year olds.
Disclaimer: As always, the characters in this story are all copywrite George RR Martin, the only exceptions being my original characters, the first of which is lightly mentioned in this chapter.
A Sword with Wings.
"You must be one of the Starks..."
Arya opened her eyes with a start when something touched her shoulder. She glanced around, but nothing seemed terribly amiss, as the dream faded away from her.
Sansa's nightmare had been so vivid that she refused to even try to go back to sleep until the Hound came and laid closer to them, much to Arya's displeasure. Her own dreams, while strange, were not frightening. As she blinked her eyes, the hooting of a large owl faded away, merely part of her dream lingering about her still..
She was laying on her side, her sister was holding her from behind, and the Hound was behind her, one arm draped over Sansa and his fingers brushed Arya's shoulder. It was his touch that had awakened the younger Stark and she swatted his hand away. She rolled over slightly to find Sansa was actually awake, dark circles under her eyes suggested that she had slept very little, or not at all. Arya scooted a little closer, "Are you alright?" She whispered.
Sansa didn't say anything, but slowly nodded. Arya got on her knees and started to lift the Hound's arm off her sister, but Sansa shook her head this time, "No." She whimpered, the Hound only snored.
Arya sighed and sat back, "Try to sleep Sansa." She said quietly, Sansa's eyes remained open, staring ahead into nothing, her thoughts elsewhere. Arya stood up, stretched, and wandered the clearing where they had stopped for the night, and after a moment climbed a tree.
The leaves in the forest were starting to change color, and they were crispier than usual, the morning air was also chillier day after day. Winter is coming, those were the words of House Stark, but it seemed that Winter truly was coming now. Arya pushed aside a few branches and looked at the landscape before her.
The sun was just barely rising, a golden ridge on the edge of a blood colored sky. Just enough light was cast by it to paint the world with a beautiful radiance, contrasted by dark shadows. There was a river in view, they could probably reach it by midday. In the distance, Arya made out a large shape, could be a castle or a rock formation, it was too far away to tell. The twins perhaps? The Hound and Sansa had said that Robb was there with their mother, but aside from the Hound mentioning that he intended to ransom her to her family, Arya hadn't heard if they were actually going to the Twins, or further North in search of Robb's camp.
To the her left, Arya saw forests, meadows, hills and perhaps rarely used roads. To her right she saw more of the same, and some tributaries, smaller rivers feeding the larger one ahead of them. She wished they had a map so she had a better idea of where they were, and where a port might be.
Arya let go of the branches and reached into her clothes for the strange coin that had been given to her. "Valar Morghulis." She muttered out loud to herself. The phrase had been in her head every night since she was reunited with Sansa, right after each silent run through her list.
She didn't dare say the names aloud, not with the Hound actually there, and she knew Sansa would never approve of having a list of people she intended to kill. Sansa would argue with her about it, and she didn't want to argue, not while they were the only family they had.
"See anything interesting up there, Wolf Bitch?" The Hound barked suddenly, almost making Arya drop her coin, "Or should I start calling you a squirrel?"
Arya tucked her coin back into he pocket and scrambled back down, "I'm not a squirrel!" She huffed. The Hound moved passed her, he was making fun of her, she knew it, but he didn't laugh.
He went to the pack horse and rummaged through it a moment before returning to where Sansa was now sitting up and taking a seat beside her. The Hound looked back at her, "Well, come on Squirrel, do you want food or are you going to starve?"
"I'm not a squirrel!" Arya protested louder, the Hound still wasn't laughing, but she saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as she approached.
Their morning fast was broken with few stripes of salted meat and dried fruit. It was small and barely satisfying, but if the Hound was good for something, it was knowing how to ration.
And killing people.
Arya hated to admit it, but the Hound was an incredible killer. Perhaps not as amazing as Jaqen, but when the Hound had attacked those Lannister men, Arya couldn't help being impressed with how easily he had dispatched them. True, the men were hardly sword masters, but still...
She hated that she admired him.
Arya was almost as foolish as Sansa the day the party from King's Landing arrived, gaping and wide eyed at the scores of men on horses, the beautiful Ladies, and armored knights. Then a man who wasn't a knight rode in. Sandor Clegane had stood out among the all the other men in armor, not because of his dog-head helm, but something about the way he carried himself, Arya couldn't stop staring at him.
Any small wonders about the possibility of befriending a man like him died when he killed Mycah.
They ate in silence, the Hound didn't appear to be quite awake yet, and Sansa appeared to only be thinking of the dream that had frightened her so much. She'd given them as much detail about it as she could, a dream about a castle, fire, Greywind's tortured howl, Lannister banners, Rob and mother's bodies broken and mangled.
Telling Sansa that it was just a dream didn't help. Nor had the Hound's attempt to explain that she was just nervous because they'd seen Lannister men the day before and they were so close. "You're just afraid you're not going to make it." He'd said.
Arya pushed the last of her meager meal into her mouth and stood up, heading to the horses. They'd be on the move again soon, Sansa followed after her, but when the Hound stood he called them back over to him. "Take out your knife." He told Sansa, while he took one off his belt and handed it to Arya.
Sansa did as she was told, lifting her skirt and taking the knife from it's hiding place. Arya stared at the blade the Hound had put in her hand. She'd already tried to kill him once, stabbed him several times, and now only about a week later he was handing her a knife. Was he brave or stupid?
The Hound looked at her, eyes narrow as if thinking the same thing, but when he spoke, it was almost a compliment, "Not bad, Wolf Bitch, you at least know how to hold it." While Arya detested being called that, but sadly it was better than being called a squirrel. "Just like that, see how your sister is holding it?" This time he was addressing Sansa.
Arya looked over to her and saw that indeed Sansa was holding the knife wrong and held hers up higher so she could see the correct grip. "No, like this." She moved a little closer and helped her sister reposition her fingers, "You're not buttering bread, put your thumb here so you have a better hold."
Sansa did as she was told, Arya glanced of to the Hound, wondering why he cared whether or not Sansa could hold a knife properly. "If those men we ran into yesterday were telling the truth, we may meet more of them." He said, "I can't fight off all of them at once, so you'd best be able to defend yourself until I can get you. Now show me your fighting stance."
As instructed, Arya turned to face him, putting her legs apart the way she saw her brothers do when they were practicing. Sansa didn't seem to have the first clue about what that meant. The Hound chastised Arya first, "No, no, you're using a knife not a sword, you'll be thrown right on your ass. Put your weight on the balls of your feet."
The Hound continued to instruct them on how to hold the knife, switch grip, hold a stance and move while holding the knife until the sun peeked over the top of the branches. The Hound seemed satisfied with their progress, and even let Arya keep the knife he'd handed to her, but as he led the way over to the horses he said, "Until we reach your family, you are going to be practicing using those knives in the mornings, before you go to sleep, and anytime we stop. Understand?"
"Yes." the sisters agreed, Arya would very much like to practice using the knife on the Hound, but kept that thought to herself. She wished she was bigger so she didn't have to have him lift her on to the horse.
He had been wrong the other day, when he said she never knew his brother. Arya had gotten to know the Mountain that Rides quite well during her stay in Harrenhal. The elder Clegane brother was every bit of the monster she thought he was. It continued to surprise her that the younger one wasn't... not exactly, at any rate.
The Hound was vicious, brutal, cruel and disgusting, but Sansa spoke about him as if he had a heart of gold buried deep under layers of vile barriers. Arya didn't believe that was completely true, not with the way he treated her, but he certainly was far kinder to Sansa. He even seemed to hold her more gently when he lifted her sister onto his horse at her request to ride with him.
Did they know they were doing that?
The group wasn't in much of a hurry since there had been no sign of Lannister men all morning, the Hound suggested that they not draw attention to themselves by moving too quickly. The sun reached it's peek without any more than ten words being spoken between the three of them, and even then it was mostly the Hound muttering some command to his horse. Arya felt it was too quiet and realized Sansa hadn't said a word since they'd gotten on the horses. Was she still freaked out about her dream?
With Sansa not trying to keep a conversation up, Arya tried her best to take the responsibility, awkwardly trying to comfort her sister by talking about her own strange nighttime fantasy. "So I had an interesting dream too last night." She said, pulling her horse close to Stranger, the war horse flattened his ear, almost as ill mannered as the Hound himself. "It was about Nymeria- actually I was Nymeria."
The Hound snorted as if finding the discussion of dreams the most ridiculous of topics they'd talked about over the last couple of days. Sansa on the other hand looked at her with her interest piqued at the mention of the wolf. "What happened?" she asked.
Arya shrugged a bit, "Not much at first, I was in a forest much further north than here, I could tell by the trees." She said, "But then I saw an owl. A really big owl and I could have sworn it wanted me to follow it, so I did."
"Following dream owls..." The Hound muttered audibly and rolled his eyes.
She ignored him, continuing her dream, "I followed it for a long time, and then it landed on a rock by a tree. There was a really old woman there, very skinny, kind of scary, but she was petting the owl very kindly so I went over to her." She paused, thinking of the strangeness of the next part of her dream, "The old woman turned at looked at me, and she seemed to see me, not Nymeria. I know because she smiled at at me and said, 'you must be one of the Starks'..."
Sansa blinked at her, "And then what happened?" She asked.
"And then I woke up." Arya replied.
"And that's what you call an interesting dream, Wolf Bitch?" The Hound growled unimpressed.
Arya glared at him, "Oh, I suppose you have more interesting dreams, Hound?" She called him by his nickname, since he refused to use her real one.
"I don't dream. Not the way you do. I dream of fire, and fighting..." He said plainly, the Hound leaned back on his horse, "and occasionally I dream about fucking a pretty woman, but that's of no interest to you."
Arya rolled her eyes at him again, receiving a hissed reminder from Sansa that ladies didn't roll their eyes. Arya nodded behind her at the Hound, Really, even in the company of such a vulgar man? She said with just a look.
Her sister's eyes narrowed a bit, You asked. "Before my dream got scary..." Sansa began suddenly, "I was dreaming about Lady... I wasn't her, like you were Nymeria in your dream, I was just following her."
"Lady...that was your bloody wolf, wasn't it?" The Hound asked, making Arya realize he probably hadn't know who she meant by Nymeria when she was describing her dream.
"Yes." Sansa replied, she leaned back slightly mimicing his movement from a minute ago "I dreamed she was where I had chained her the night that...You know...Except she wasn't chained. When I came to get her, she walked off and I was following her down the road when she disappeared behind a building."
"When I caught up to her," Sansa turned around to look at the Hound, "You were there, petting her."
The Hound's mouth opened and closed a few times wordlessly, like he wanted to say something about that, some rude comment perhaps, but couldn't find one. Sansa continued before something to say.
"That was when I noticed the light coming from behind me, the fire..." She said, "I looked back and there was a burning castle... I wanted to grab Lady and run, but she had vanished when I turned back around."
"Did I take her somewhere?" The large man asked.
"No, you were still there, but you looked at me, directly." Sansa added, turning a little so that she was facing at the Hound, "But your eyes were different. You had Lady's eyes."
He still didn't seem to know what to say about the dream. He tugged on Stranger's reigns suddenly, making the war horse stop. He slid off, "Get your knives out. "Practice those movements I showed you this morning, I'll be right back." He said avoiding the topic by changing it all together.
"Sandor, where are you going?" Sansa asked, climbing off of Stranger.
He seemed to take a pause at the use of his first name, Arya cast her sister a glance that Sansa didn't see. "I'm just going to take a piss. If you need to do the same, do it before we leave again." He replied, "In the meantime, practice."
The Hound continued off. Sansa finally noticed the look Arya was giving her, "What?" She asked, and lifted her skirt to take her knife back out. She seemed to have already forgotten how to hold it, but before Arya could correct her Sansa was readjusting her grip.
"Nothing." Arya replied, "I'm going to go..." She pointed her knife in the opposite direction the Hound had walked off in, "Be right back." Sansa nodded and Arya went to find a place to relieve herself.
She'd noticed over the last few days that Sansa was the only one in this group who used everyone's names. Arya. Sandor. Even if Sandor didn't always respond to his name. Arya herself only called Sansa by her name, and always referred to Sandor Clegane only as the Hound, even in private. He seemed to answer quicker when called Hound.
And he called Sansa Little Bird, Arya was any variation ofWolf Bitch that amused him. She wondered about the origin of this 'LIttle Bird' business, and why talking about dreams was nonsense but silly nicknames were not.
The Hound wasn't a monster like his brother was, Arya decided when she started to head back to the horses. He was more like a big child who didn't know how to play with anyone smaller than him. And unfortunatetly, most people were smaller than him.
The Hound was already back and helping Sansa with the knife fighting when Arya returned. He grabbed Sansa's arm making her drop her knife. He yanked her closer to him and pointed his own knife at her throat, "You're dead." He growled, then released her when he noticed Arya had come back, "Did you see her mistake?"
"That she's wearing a dress while fighting with a knife?" Arya shrugged receiving a glower.
"Plenty of women can use a knife in a skirt." The Hound told her.
"My handmaiden back at King's Landing had a knife." Sansa added and tapped her leg where her hidden strap was, "That's where I got this idea." The Hound gave a single approving nod before he turned his gaze back to Sansa.
Seven hells, does this man ever blink? Arya wondered. She tried to match his gaze, but her eyes started to dry, apparently long before the Hound's did, and she ended up blinking twice.
"What do you know about killing a man?" He asked suddenly, still looking at Arya and still not blinking. His size, and this ability to stare down at her was very intimidating, she bit her bottom lip praying that she wasn't shaking or anything.
Arya tried again not to blink when she replied, "I thought we were talking about what Sansa did wrong?" She blinked a second time just as she finished speaking, the Hound had yet to, she continued answering his question "You kill a man by cutting his throat, taking out an eye, ripping out his belly, stabbing him in the heart-"
The Hound finally blinked, an almost calculated move to further intimidate her. "-Do you know where the heart is?" He looked away from her, back to Sansa, "You were aiming for my heart. Show me where it is."
"I was under the impression you didn't have one." Arya muttered to herself, not quietly enough because both the Hound and Sansa glared at her.
Sansa leaned down to pick up her dropped knife and pointed it's tip at the center of the Hound's chest. "Here." She said.
He pushed the blade away from the middle of his chest, to the side a little, "Here." He corrected, "It's a common mistake, thinking the heart's in the center, that's how people live." He looked at Arya when he said this, reminding her of her failed attempt on his life, "And this is how you kill them."
That's how I'm going to kill you. Arya remembered to only think this, but as an after thought, added to herself, Once we get to the twins and we don't need you anymore. Except that Sansa wanted him to escort them to Winterfell when Rob reclaimed it. After we get to Winterfell then.
Her plans to kill the Hound and avenge Mycah seemed to keep getting pushed back, mostly by Sansa's doing. Arya could privately admit that she wasn't as good with a blade as she boasted, but she was certain she could take care of herself. Sansa, on the other hand, was only a little more than two of them would never make it on their own. Better to have the Hound accompanying them, for Sansa's sake.
But that wasn't how Sansa saw it. She saw him differently than her sister did, and Arya knew that look: that was her Jonquil and Florian look. Arya had to wonder again if Sansa realized she was doing that. The Hound was a terrible ungodly man, a brute and a murderer not a hero from one of her songs. What would it take to make Sansa see that?
"Wolf Girl." The Hound barked suddenly, "Your stance is too wide, get your legs in position and bend your knee."
They practiced with slow movements, far too slow for a real fight, but the purpose was so that the sisters had a good understanding of how to use the knives. Arya's biggest problem was that she was used to a sword and having trouble adjusting, it annoyed her that the Hound praised Sansa's progress (if what he was doing could be called 'praising') more than hers.
Gods, what she wouldn't give to have Needle back, or a bow and arrow.
Finally the Hound told them to put the knives away and get back on the horses. This time he refused to humor Sansa's request to ride with him, for that Arya was relieved. Sansa declined help onto the brown mare that the girls were riding, choosing to walk instead, the Hound didn't argue.
Arya decided to walk for a while too, it would be good for them to use their legs, and this seemed to be the only thing all three of them agreed to. They walked in a line, the Hound and Arya were quick to pick sides of Sansa so the elder Stark daughter walked between them and the horses were pulled along beside them.
It was quiet again, Arya caught sight of the sword Gendry had forged as it banged against the Hound's hip, "Can I see Firebird again?" She asked. Arya knew that he hated that name, he hated that they named the sword, and he hated what Gendry had done to it. She called the sword by than name because she knew it would piss him off.
He turned toward her with narrow eyes, but unsheathed the blade, "It's not Firebird, it's just a sword." He said passing it in front of Sansa to Arya.
Sansa looked a little hurt that he refused to use the name she'd given it, "Don't you like the name Firebird?"
"I told you, only cunts name their swords." He said bitterly. "You can call it Firebird all you like, but that's not it's name, it doesn't have a name."
Arya almost sensed a story behind this opinion, if she gave a damn about what the Hound thought, she might of asked why he thought so. Instead, Arya noticed how wounded by this Sansa looked, and how angry the Hound was over this business with his sword, and saw the perfect opportunity to drive a wedge between them.
"All the best swords have names though." She said, taking the blade from the Hound when he handed it to her. It was far too heavy for her, but she remembered her lessons from Syrio, she had to become stronger.
Maybe she could wield Firebird herself one day.
"And they're memorable." Sansa added, getting her dreamy Jonquil and Florian look again, "People remember swords with names, tell stories about them and write songs."
Neither sister had any way of knowing this was exactly why Sandor had no desire for his sword to have a name, but he growled at them, "I don't want stories or songs about me or that damn sword!"
He was falling for it, Arya continued to bait him into losing his temper completely, "But what about the honor of your house?" She asked, "Your brother might be be the head, but he's a real monster, wouldn't you like for at least one Clegane to be remembered in a good way?"
Bringing up Gregor was a mistake, Arya wasn't sure how, but the Hound seemed to realize right then what she was up to and snarled out "Stories and songs only exaggerate or cover up. They don't tell the truth only lose it. In a thousand years, I'll be a bloody knight, 'Firebird' will be a magic sword, she'll be my lover, and you'll be turned to a boy to be our son." He growled, "If I'm going to be remembered, I'd rather have it written in an archive of Westori history as a traitor who abandoned the king and traded his prisoners to the enemy than romanticized as some damned fool running away with an imaginary family."
Sansa's face turned red as the Hound spoke and Arya realized how drastically her plan had backfired. Not only did Sansa see why the Hound was so against naming his sword and having songs written about him, but Arya was beginning to understand too. She didn't say anything for several seconds, but finally sighed and handed the sword back to the Hound. "Well, if you get us back to mom and Robb, maybe they'll write songs about you anyway." She said, no longer trying to push for an argument but not accepting defeat.
"I doubt it." He replied, putting the sword away. "They don't write songs about men like me. They write songs about the heroes that kill men like me."
Or the women who kill them. Arya added to herself, but just for a brief moment she wasn't sure she wanted to kill the Hound. If her story ever got put into songs, what would they change when the legends told of how the Hound brought her back to her family? Would she still be avenging Mycah, or murdering the man that saved her?
She hated that he was right about those songs.
"That's not true," Sansa said, "In the North they'll write about how the Hound left King Joffery and reunited the daughters of House Stark with their family. Imagine what else they'll write about you if you stay."
"I imagine they'll write that I did nothing more in service to the North but be a guard dog." He replied, he went quiet for a moment or two before continuing with a final comment to drop the subject. "Call the sword Firebird all you want. Call it whatever name you want. Call it fucking Cuntboner for all the shits I give, just don't expect me to use the name. Understand?"
"I understand." The sisters muttered.
"Good, now I don't want to hear anymore about it." He stopped suddenly and pointed ahead of them, "Look there, the Red Fork. If we follow it we'll reach the Twins in a few days, we might even make it in time for the wedding."
"And if we don't?" Sansa asked nervously.
"And if we don't, your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls," the Hound explained, "Odd as it may sound, that makes you family. Surely Lord Walder Frey can spare a room or two for a few days while we find out where your brother and mother went, or at least get a raven to them. Might even have a few gowns to spare. Would you like that Little Bird, some fresh pretty dresses?"
Sansa nodded and straightened the skirt of the faded green one she was currently wearing. "Lord Frey has lots of daughters and grandaughters, right? There may even be some dresses for Arya too."
Arya made a face the second those words came out of Sansa mouth, "I don't want to borrow any of their dresses." she hissed, "I'll be happy to just keep these." She brushed off her trousers.
Sansa turned and glared at her, "Mother will want you in a dress for the wedding." She said.
"But we might not make it in time for the wedding." Arya argued.
"Mother will still want you to be wearing a dress when she sees you." Sansa told her.
"And when is she going to see me? " Arya frowned, "Is she going to turn around and come from Gods know where when a raven tells her we're at the twins? Or will she see me in a few weeks after Robb retakes Winterfell?"
Sansa opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find something to say, "Ladies shouldn't be wearing trousers." She blurted after a moment.
Arya wanted to say well, I don't want to be a lady, when she just happened to look beyond Sansa and saw the Hound's face. His face was turned just enough to watch them, and his lips were curved up in a very smug smirk.
Immediately Arya realized that he had done exactly what she was trying to do a moment before. The Hound had figured out her game, and he beat her at it. Every shed of respect for him she didn't know had built up in the last conversation shriveled up and died in an instant, and she hated him even more than she had before.
"Fine." She told Sansa bitterly, losing both the argument with her sister and the private war with the Hound, "I'll wear a stupid dress for mother."
"And something will need to be done about your hair eventually." Sansa prattled on, "It can be washed for the wedding, but if we miss mom and Robb, there might be time for it to grow out again before we see them..."
Arya stopped listening to Sansa's jabbering and rolled her eyes, as she did so, she saw Sansa had one of her hands clasped around the Hound's arm. He didn't seem to have noticed, in fact he was turned away again stoking Stranger's snout.
Anger flared in her again, anger at him, and at Sansa's apparent fondness of him. She stepped closer to her sister and wrapped both arms around Sansa's in an affectionate way, the way she had when they were much younger. It was a decoy move, to remind Sansa that they were family no matter how they disagreed, while also distracting her from the true purpose of it: to pull her away from the Hound.
Sansa didn't notice it, just smiled and continued talking about what they would be doing once this was all over, as if Arya would ever be interested in any of it. It wasn't until the Hound's arm got tugged, since Sansa hadn't let go of it, that anyone noticed Arya slowly pulling her away.
Nothing might've come of it if the Hound hadn't yanked his arm away, forcing Sansa to stumble and knock Arya over, and because of her hold on her sister, Sansa fell over too. The Hound himself, wobbled on his feet, but managed to remain standing. It was unclear whether he had been trying to free his arm from Sansa's grip or pull her back, but the result of the girls falling over almost got them stepped on by the mare.
The horse whinnied in surprise and trotted back into the pack horse, which reared up in fright, and Stranger stopped in his tracks, stomping his hooves angrily, looking for the source of the disturbance. "Watch what you're doing!" Arya shouted up at the Hound.
He helped Sansa to her feet, but left the smaller Stark girl to pick herself up while he tried to calm his stallion. "Or you could watch you're doing." He snapped back, his lips were turned down in a scowl again, but it was clear from his eyes that he was still trying to bait her into arguing with Sansa again.
Arya stuck her tongue out at him while she brushed dirt off her pants, "Arya!" Sansa exclaimed and started to chide her sister about how ladies were supposed to behave. Behind her the Hound's scowl briefly turned into a smirk before dropping again when Sansa turned on him, "And you! You're a grown man, and here you are acting as childish as she is! I don't care what this is about -Mycah, the brotherhood, me,-it ends now!"
By the time she was finished, Sansa was shouting, red in the face, and sounded far too much like like their mother. She whirled around on her feet and walked away from them to the mare and made an attempt to climb up by herself.
Arya and the Hound both stared after her with their jaws dropped ever so slightly, and slowly turned to each other with astonished expressions. They both knew who won that round, Sansa herself was the clear victor even if she did need help getting on the horse. He gave Arya a quick this isn't over look and went to assist Sansa.
"If you girls like naming things so much, why don't you name these horses?" He said, Sansa muttered a reply that Arya couldn't hear.
Arya declined the Hound's offer to put her back on the horse with her sister and opted instead to walk beside them, opposite of where the Hound continued walking. They both claimed their sides of Sansa, making her an effective barrier against the other's presence.
It wasn't long before the eldest Stark daughter was talking again, this time changing the subject to her plans for when they returned to Winterfell, and offered again to have the Hound stay on as her bodyguard. He still didn't seem keen on the idea, but never brought up his alternate plan to become a sellsword outside of Westeros.
As she listened to Sansa fondly telling him about the surrounding forest and summer snows, Arya realized no amount of her own disliking the Hound could keep her sister from liking Sandor Clegane...