"You stay close. Some men won't be smart enough to stay out of my way," he barked back at her as he closed up onto the gates for exiting the Red Keep.
An angry storm was washing everything away outside; the noise of the rain nearly drowned out all the screams and shouts from the commoners on the other side trying to seek refuge inside the high walls. When they squeezed out, a few from the outside had managed to squeeze themselves in but The Hound did not care. Immediately Myrna was drenched from head to toe and feared she would lose her grip on her now slippery dagger. Not only did her dress grow heavy from absorbing all the rain water, her feet were being sucked into the mud with every step. She began to breathe heavier and soon she was falling behind on The Hound.
"Wait!" she cried out, bending over to pull a foot that had gone too deep in the mud and she ended up splashing in the mud face first with a yelp.
After wiping mud off her eyes as best she could, she saw feet marching towards her but they were not The Hound's. Her dark eyes focused on the man's snarling face. She had not seen him before but the look on his face would suggest she had done something awful to him. Not taking a chance, she swung her dagger at his ankles and he cried out when she tore his skin open. He nearly fell over, but instead positioned himself so he could get a swing at her face with his other foot. With a gasp she shielded herself with her hands, but the man only cried out again and she heard a wet thump. He was now dead on the ground, and Myrna saw The Hound kneel next to her, his own pants soaked to the bone. He grunted as he picked her up like a baby, an arm under her knees and the other arm around her waist. The ends of her dress were completely ruined and there was not a spot on her that was clean or dry. No one would be even able to tell what color it had been.
"You're already making me regret helping you," he blustered.
Myrna kept her head turned away from him. "Then leave me in the mud for Gregor if I'm such a burden," she muttered back and in a second she met the mud again. Blinking in disbelief, she supported herself with one elbow and stared back up at the man who dropped her. "What the hell!?"
"This what you want?" he growled down at her, rain dripping down his face and running like little streams in the dents on his armor. His hair was matted down over his burn, concealing most of it.
Huffing, Myrna stood back up on her own and put her dagger between her teeth. The stench of the city was rough enough just by breathing it in through her nose, but now with her mouth slightly open she could taste the foulness. Using her free hands, she bundled up the ends of her dress which exposed her legs up to her lower thigh and began walking again towards the outer wall gate. While walking she could feel The Hound's eyes on her and it only added more discomfort.
Relief came over her when she finally saw the northern gate to leave the capital but there were two guards posted near them. "Here," Myrna heard The Hound's voice come from behind her and when she turned to face him he took the dagger from her mouth with a quick swipe.
"Why don't you use your own sword!?" she spat quickly at him, standing in the mud and felt herself sinking in and not being able to chase after him. The mud was up to her ankles and she struggled to free herself while hearing clangs of metal where The Hound went; he was busy with the men. When she looked up again one man had a sword through his belly and The Hound shielded himself with her dagger from the other man. While holding the alive man off, Sandor was able to kick the dead man off his sword but his other foot sank deep into the mud. He then used his free sword to kill the second man with a single swing and stabbed him in the neck with her dagger to make sure he was dead. He knew the mud would slow him down, she thought and understood why he took her dagger. Still, she was upset that he just took something of hers without permission. Myrna gave him a pout when he returned to her.
Hands still full with her dress, Sandor offered to put the bloody dagger back between her teeth with what seemed like a smile on his face but she grew furious. "You really are the stupidest thing! Why would I want that bloody thing in my mouth!?" she insulted him as she turned her head away again.
"Learn to understand a joke," he said as he stuffed her dagger somewhere on him and he bent down to grab her knees and managed to pull her out of the mud. Myrna felt him not letting go of her knees, which led her to fall over his shoulder and she saw the muddy ground grow farther away when The Hound stood up. The world spun around her when he turned and marched out the gates. "You got more nerve than the red little bird, I'll tell you that," he had to shout for her to hear.
Once they were inside the stable Myrna saw the ground come at her; The Hound knelt down and placed her back on her feet quite gently. No more rain fell on their heads but they dripped enough water to make the dirt inside the stable turn into mud. She let the ends of her dress fall to the floor and gathered her hair to one side and wrung the water out of her black locks. Her attention went to further down the stable where The Hound had gone and saw he was leading a giant black horse out of its box stall. The horse was beautiful even from afar and she began walking towards them so she could get a better look at him.
When she tried to pet his mane he lifted his front legs in the air and whined. Myrna backed away quickly, nearly tripping on her dress. The Hound let out a roaring laugh. "Stranger has the loyalty of a dog, and he belongs to me. Don't ever think of going near him without me there," he boasted as he went to the wall where they held everything he needed for traveling on horse. Myrna stood by quietly as he strapped the saddle onto Stranger's back and hooked up the reins. There were also cloaks left behind, and he put one on himself and threw the other at Myrna. She wrapped herself up in the dark blue cloak and it was far too big for her but it will keep her dry. The Hound climbed onto the massive horse, hood already over his head. Myrna could barely see his face when he reached down his hand toward her. Warily she approached the horse, afraid of it reacting to her again but she was lifted up swiftly and without trouble. Both legs hung over one side of the horse and there was a groove on the front of the saddle that she could hold on to.
The Hound kicked Stranger in the side which sent them galloping out and back into the pouring rain. Myrna did not realize how fast Stranger was which led her grabbing The Hound's waist with her other arm. Most of the riding was quiet between them, as it was hard to speak while bouncing on a horse's back in a storm. Eventually Stranger came to a slower trot when they had gone a comfortable distance from the capital. Myrna recognized the northern part of the Crownlands, but to where she still did not know.
"That went easier than I thought," The Hound remarked. "Should be an inn coming soon. We'll stay there for a night, but it's camping mostly from them on..."
"I prefer sleeping outside," she replied staring straight ahead.
An inn finally came into view and The Hound made a sharp turn for it. He stopped in front of the doors and eased Myrna down onto the ground and told her to grab a room for them. Stranger began trotting towards the tiny stable the inn offered with The Hound still on his back and Myrna grabbed the rim of her hood as she made her way inside. Sighing while closing the door behind her, she lifted her hood and was greeted by warmth from fire burning in a nearby brazier. A rather short and round lady waddled towards her from a back room and smiled warmly.
"There is another with me," Myrna informed her and shortly after The Hound walked in, his hood still covering him. Myrna wondered if the lady would know him by his face.
"We need a room with two beds," he grabbed a pouch from his pocket and grabbed some silver.
The lady glanced at Myrna and looked her up and down. "Two beds? Lover's quarrel?" she japed quietly but did not hesitate to grab his coin. She told them their room was upstairs before making her way back to where she had been before.
Myrna rolled her eyes and The Hound slightly turned red under his beard and cleared his throat. "We need to leave immediately in the morning, get as much sleep as you can," he grumbled as he made his way up the creaking wooden steps to the second floor of the inn. As she followed him she began thinking more about what they exactly were doing. This was a good time to get answers, she thought as he entered a room and she followed.
The room was plain; dark with only two candles hanging on the walls for light. In the middle of their beds was a large window but were covered by closed curtains. They asked for two beds and that is pretty much what they received, besides a small wooden dresser and a dirty mirror off in the corner. The Hound pulled off the cloak quickly and threw it on the ground along with his sack but did not take off his armor. When he sat on the bed Myrna could have sworn it was going to snap into two parts. She went to investigate the drawers in the dresser to see if anything suitable to wear was in there. Nothing but dust filled the drawers, and she closed it with a sneeze.
"Where do you plan on going?" she wiped the dust off her hands as she walked around her bed and sat on the edge facing him.
He kicked his massive legs onto the bed before answering, or rather not answering. "Anywhere but here," he replied, sounding a tad tired.
"You have absolutely no plan? Why are you even leaving anyway?" she went on.
"Not your problem," The Hound stared up at the ceiling.
Sighing, Myrna crawled to the middle of her bed and sat against the backboard. She remembered all the times Joffrey would call him "dog". Maybe he finally was fed up with Joffrey's insults? It seemed odd that it would make him run off during a battle. "There's worse than Joffrey," she said softly.
He laughed at that. "I know that better than you," The Hound spat. "A high born lady like you probably don't know many things,".
"What's that supposed to mean!?" she flew her legs off the edge of the bed and stood up.
His frown hardened as he turned his head to look at her. She could see his good eye glimmer from the candlelight near his bed and there was anger in them. "You're just like Sansa. A Northern high born lady arranged to marry another high born cunt. What more should I expect besides pretty words and songs from people like you?"
Her blood boiled and her hands turned into shaking fists. " You don't even know what I've been through!" she stammered.
"Just go the fuck to sleep," he groaned loudly before turning to his side.
Myrna clenched her teeth. "I know what a burnt flesh smells like..." she hissed. Slowly, The Hound looked over his shoulder with an uncertain expression on his face. "I've seen people I love burn. Their entire bodies... not just a part of their face!" Myrna turned her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Only after a couple of steps she leaned against the cold wall in the hallway and tried to catch her breath. She didn't realize the same lady that welcomed them was watching her closely from the top of the steps with laundry folded in her hands.
"Everything alright, m'lady?" she asked kindly.
"Yes... yes, I'm fine. I just need to walk around," she struggled to find something to say.
The lady walked closer to Myrna, smiling. "Men are such a hassle sometimes, aren't they?" she leaned in and whispered.
She felt her face turn hot. "Oh, no. You don't understand..."
"Oh, but sadly I do... and my, your dress. I can't let you leave like that!" she looked at her tattered and dirty dress with shame.
Myrna stared at the laundry the lady held in her hands. "Do you... by any chance have an extra tunic and a pair of breeches I could have?"
Her answer was yes, and Myrna was overjoyed though the lady gave Myrna awkward looks after hearing that request. She was taken to another room so she could be allowed to change without bothering The Hound but the lady refused to leave and remained there to help her remove her dress.
Not again, Myrna looked up at the ceiling and gulped as the lady untied the back of her dress. It felt like forever, just waiting for the same reaction. Once the dress was halfway off the lady tried to hold back a gasp. The same old story came out of Myrna's mouth when she was sure the lady had noticed.
"I was hurt in an accident as a child. My father's barn had caught on fire and I tried to save the animals when a piece of burning wood fell on my lower back. I am sorry, I should have warned you," Myrna said solemnly but inside she was a battlefield.
She continued to help Myrna step out of the dress and handed her the tunic in a hurry. "Well, there is no need to apologize... Do you still need my assistance?"
"No," Myrna slipped the beige tunic on and before she even pulled it down the lady had disappeared. Is it really that bad? Myrna thought, realizing she had never actually seen her burn. There were moments where she would stand before a mirror at the capital and would be tempted to turn around to see the ruins on her back. Every time she ended up too afraid and ashamed to do it. Brushing off these old feelings, she grabbed the chestnut brown breeches and stepped into them and then slipped on her shoes that were still caked with dry mud but she felt so much better. Her back was able to breathe now and moving around was no longer difficult. Myrna regretted not asking for a bath before the lady ran away, but it could not be helped now.
Eventually she made her way back to her room. She peeked through the crack of the door and saw that The Hound still lied awake, staring sternly at the ceiling. He seemed so deep in thought. Did she go too far with what she said earlier? She pushed the door open more and that caught his attention but it seemed the words he wanted to say slipped away when he saw her appearance and narrowed his eyes.
"The fuck you wearing?" he pushed himself up.
Myrna scoffed. "What the hell does it look like I'm wearing?" she climbed back into her bed like she did before. "I am not going to be traveling buffet for men to go up my skirt whenever they please. And you remember how it was back when we were leaving; I could barely walk!"
"Nobody is going to rape you with me around," he assured her with a cocky smirk on his face. "Put a decent dress on or something, don't walk around like a fucking man," he complained.
"I've been wearing breeches for almost eight years and I am not about to change just because I was forced to wear a dress at the capital," Myrna declared.
The Hound glanced at her in disbelief. "Eight years!? I thought you were a bloody high born!"
"I am," she confirmed. "I was pushed out of my hometown when I was thirteen..."
When the sorrowful memories surfaced she did not wish to continue talking about home.
"There was something about my brother and your town, wasn't there?" The Hound mumbled after some silence.
He must be thinking about what I said earlier, Myrna thought. "I don't want to talk about it," she turned to her side facing away from The Hound.
That was the end of their chat for the night. When Myrna closed her eyes she made a wish that often was not heard. The next time she opened her eyes she was back home and only thirteen years old. Behind her she heard a man sobbing that sent chills up her spine. Breathing hard, she ran herself into the entrance of the manor and began to bang the door with her fists. Everything around her cracked and crumbled, and she pulled on the door so hard her hands hurt and she broke a fingernail. It would not budge, and soon smoke consumed her and left her vision impaired. Swallowed in gray darkness, she curled into a ball and sobbed along with the man behind her. Myrna, additional voices called from behind. Voices she had heard her entire life called out for help but she was just a small, frightened girl.
"There's nothing I can do!" she squeaked between tears. Myrna covered her ears to stop the voices but nothing she did helped to block them out. "Leave me alone!" she begged and pleaded but to no avail.
"Myrna!" a voice rang loud in her ear.
"I said... leave me alone!" she raised an arm and swung towards the voice with all her might, but something grabbed hard onto her wrist. She tried to break free, but it was too strong. Squirming and crying, she shut her eyes tight and felt herself being dragged away. When she opened her eyes to look, everything was clear.
The Hound's usual snarling face was instead gaping at her with wide eyes. She could not help but notice his burn, completely exposed from him not fixing it when he rushed towards her. His massive hand was wrapped around her wrist, and he had been shaking her. "What's that screaming for!?" he demanded to know.
"The fire! He's here!" Myrna gasped for air while looking around, sweat dripping from her forehead. The grip around her wrist loosened and she gave her attention back to The Hound after realizing it was only another one of her night terrors. With the back of her free hand she wiped her forehead and looked down bashfully. "I'm sorry for waking you," she apologized as she pulled away from him.
He took a step towards her bed and turned around, hands on his knees as he lowered himself down onto her bed slowly. The end she sat on lifted up since she was so much lighter than him. Not knowing what else to say, she kept her chin down and hands resting on her lap.
"I need to know if my brother hurt you," he croaked, breaking the silence.
Her eyes darted across the floor rapidly, trying to think of what to say. "Why?" she asked.
"Because if you ever plan on killing him I need you to get that out of your head. If he hurt you, let me get vengeance for you," she could almost feel his voice bounce off her. Everything else was still silent.
"What did he do to you?" she asked another question now looking him in the eye.
The Hound grinded his teeth. Myrna watched him raise his hand and fix his hair so it would cover the ruins of his face. She narrowed her eyebrows, then her dark eyes widened when she understood. She pushed herself closer to him but he stood up and roamed away from her. "I understand, Sandor-"
The way he spun around frightened her, as if he were about to charge at her but instead he spat on the ground. "You? Understand? You don't know a thing. We leave now," he bent over and grabbed the sack he brought from the capital roughly and threw it over his shoulder. She watched him march out, opening the door so hard it banged against the wall and made her jump.
"You're just like me..." she mumbled to herself, thinking of her family and the wound on her back.