All alone she sat in the dark, musty sept on a wooden bench not too far from the altar. Rays of light beamed down from the high windows and small flecks of dust danced in the air inside them. When she peered up to the altar she realized she was not alone. A septon stood in front of The Hound and Sansa Stark. Myrna swallowed and blinked away tears. Then she looked around at the emptiness again.
"You don't have to do this..." she said softly but they did not seem to hear her. Myrna stood up and stepped sideways to get out of the tight fitted area between the benches. "There's no one here to stop us. You don't have to do this!" she called out louder at them as she approached the bottom step of the altar.
Sansa smiled beautifully at him. "I'm... very happy," she told him.
"What?" Myrna asked in shock.
The Hound smirked back. "After I kill Gregor we can live at Clegane Hall. I'll take you away from this hell hole," he replied and he went to grab one of her red curls and stroked it.
"What in seven hells is going on!?" Myrna yelled at them. Not one of them looked at her. Furious, she skipped up the altar steps and countered them. First she went to The Hound and grabbed a tight hold of one of his massive arms. "You told me not to worry about you and her! Were you lying to me!?" her voice trembled as she pulled on his arm.
At last he recognized her presence but his small smile turned into a disgusting frown. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked her rudely.
"Are you trying to spoil my wedding?" Sansa joined in, also frowning at Myrna.
The Hound, Sansa and the septon now stared at her coldly. She had never felt so out of place. Letting her hands slip off of The Hound she realized her hand did not have a bandage on it and she was wearing breeches instead of a skirt. How did this happen? Myrna began shaking her head. "Why... What is happening?" she felt herself beginning to sob.
"You going to fucking cry now?" The Hound sounded annoyed.
Sansa's face began to turn pink. "Leave now before we force you to leave," she threatened.
The Hound turned to the septon. "Fucking hells. Why did you allow this dirty wench into the sept?"
"Those clothes are disgusting. Throw her back to the tavern she came from," Sansa eyed Myrna with a sly look. The Hound and the septon began staring at her once again as well.
"Why are you talking to me this way? Don't you know who I am?" Myrna desperately asked.
Suddenly Sansa moved. Her eyes widened so much she looked terrifying and she did not stop walking until she was inches away from Myrna's face. "Perhaps I should ask you some questions. Why are you doing this to me?" she hissed in a voice that did not match her usual voice.
"What are you talking about?" Myrna began saying but backed away to get away from Sansa but the girl followed.
"You're going to give me to Baelish when I least expect it. I'm just cargo to you, and you're waiting to sell me for your freedom," she began crying and the skin around her eyes turned pinker. "Don't you have a heart!?" she screamed as she punched Myrna in the chest so hard it made a deep booming noise. Myrna took a step back but felt nothing. Suddenly she went flying down the altar steps, twisting in ways that made the skin on her back tighten from her scar and it was so painful she screamed. Every step on the way down she hit and at the end she just moaned and laid on the ground.
When she opened her eyes to peer up at the altar she saw a face right in front of hers. "It's time to wake up, my lady," her handmaiden said with a straight face. The surroundings changed, and she was in her bedchamber and lying in her bed.
A hole she had felt inside her chest for years seemed to have grown a little bigger today. That morning when she opened her eyes it only took her a few seconds to feel like she was falling apart. The handmaiden had been next to her and helped her out of bed. She had a small frame and looked delicate. Her honey colored hair was pinned up and she wore a heavy frown. If she had smiled, she might have been pretty. Myrna needed some kind of comfort and was desperate for any kind of contact. While the handmaiden fumbled in the closet Myrna sat in her small clothes on the edge of her bed and thought of something to say. "Will you be here often?" she started a conversation.
"My lady, you will not be here long. There's no need to become familiar with me," she flatly replied. That was the end of their talk.
The same red and black dress she had worn the previous days was put on her, but it felt heavier today. When she shuffled to her mirror she was sluggish, and dark circles formed under her eyes. The bruise on her jaw was beginning to turn purple and she played with her messy curls to try and hide it. In the mirror she saw the tiny handmaiden make her bed with haste and hurried out of the room, closing the door hard behind her. The handmaiden did not even fix her hair. Sighing, Myrna made her way over to her vanity and picked up one of her brushes and gently sat on the stool. For awhile she sat alone, combing her dark curls. They were hard to manage and was sure she did not look appropriate for a wedding. It did not matter. In fact, she wanted to look like how she felt on the inside and show everyone what they were doing to her. Not even a mere handmaiden wanted to be her friend.
A loud knock on her door made her look over her shoulder in the middle of brushing and the door swung open. Myrna swallowed and her eyes widened. Gregor Clegane was dressed in his suit of armor and he noisily made his way into her room while staring at her. After putting her brush away Myrna stood up and straightened the skirt of her dress before standing before him. She curtsied to make sure she was being as respectful as possible towards the man to save herself some pain.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice as deep as a shadow cat's growl.
Myrna nodded. "I am," she lied.
He approached her with only a few steps with his long legs. When he stopped he reached and stroked her hair the way The Hound did to Sansa in her dream. Myrna began blinking rapidly and looked down at the ground so it would not be so noticeable. Then suddenly he tugged hard on a handful of curls and she cried out. "Who the fuck is taking care of you? You look like a tavern wench. Do you want me to look like the husband of a bloody commoner?" he boomed down at her and it reminded her of her dream once more.
"I'm sorry!" she wailed, head still being pulled down. The scars on her back did not agree with how she was bending. Her skin around the scars were being tugged and irritated. All she wanted as to fix herself and stand straight to stop the discomfort. Myrna had to bite her tongue to not cry out for The Hound. Suddenly he began pulling her hair in a different direction. The lady was being led out of her bedchamber by her hair. Clumsily she tried to keep up with the tall man so she would not trip and fall and make her scalp feel even more pain. Despite her efforts, she could not keep her mouth shut. Myrna kept wailing with every step the man took and with every tug of her hair. People stopped and stared at the two of them as he made his way down the corridor.
"Where is her bloody handmaiden? Hm!?" he called out to them. None of them were of any help, so they just pushed their backs against the wall and watched Myrna being tortured. "You expect my lady to look like this!?" he gave one final tug and threw Myrna on the cold, hard floor in front of him. Paralyzed, Myrna laid there with her forehead resting against the rough stone pavement. She felt a liquid quickly drip from her nose. Gregor was yelling more, but Myrna no longer listened. Her eyes were squeezed shut and the harsh scent of blood filled her nose. Myrna panted with her mouth open and focused on breathing. The part of her that wanted to cry was slowly being willed away, and just in time. A hand grabbed her arm and she was pulled up like a rag doll. When she opened her eyes she saw red drops fall from her face and to the pavement that already was stained from her lying there. When she found her feet Myrna kept her face down and her long dark curls covering her face so Gregor wouldn't see what he had done to her but it was of no use. He used his other hand to make her look up at him and her hair fell off her face. The blood did not phase him and Myrna realized that should not surprise her.
Gregor pulled his hands away. He searched for something on himself, and he pulled out a dirty handkerchief and held it out in front of him. Myrna stared at it for a few seconds before slowly grabbing it from him and began to wipe her face. "Thank you," she said with emptiness in her voice.
"Walk," he boomed an order as he began walking down the corridor again. Myrna obeyed while she pinched the bridge of her nose with the mud scented handkerchief and tried to ignore the stares from the witnesses. She wondered where they were going. At first she was sure they were going to attend the wedding, but are they now going to find her handmaiden? Communication with Gregor seemed impossible. The giant man walked with haste, most likely due to his blood boiling. Myrna was not at her prettiest and he had to be seen with her. Something made her want to try and say something to him, but she had to practically jog just to stay close behind him. Soon they had left the wing of the Red Keep where most are the bed chambers were and they were entering one of the main halls. A stream of people were exiting, and they joined the flow. People became wary when they saw both of them and it seemed they had a bubble around them that no one would enter. Myrna could feel herself turn red by knowing how ridiculous she must look. Most looks she received were full of pity, but no one dared go between a mad dog and his meal.
A couple near her were chatting loudly and Myrna caught herself listening as she stayed close behind Gregor. "The Sept of Baelor? Why would they be getting married there? It's only meant for royalty," the man said.
"Apparently King Joffrey wants it to be that way so everyone can watch that poor girl marry that wicked man," the lady replied wistfully. "It will be the same for-" she had tried to continued but she had caught eye contact with Myrna. The couple's faces filled with shock and they disappeared into the crowd as Myrna watched with fury. A wicked man? Sandor is nowhere as bad as most men, she wanted to yell at them. She inhaled sharply but them whimpered softly because of the pain. Myrna removed the handkerchief and patted her nostrils with the tip of her finger to see if it was still bleeding. She was confident she would be alright for now. When she looked ahead she felt like she could not take her eyes off of Gregor's back. If only she had her dagger. If only she had anything she could attack him with. It's all your fault, she tried to squeeze the handkerchief in her hand, but the bandages interfered.
Just as the people had said, she began to figure out they were heading towards the Sept of Baelor. After they left the castle walls it was a short walk onto the large platform and towards the steps to the sept. Myrna made sure not to stay too far back from Gregor in order to prevent him getting angry with her but it was difficult to keep up with his massive, long legs. Myrna was quick to become out of breath thanks to the limited use of her nose.
Once inside they had a seat much closer than she thought they would, but the crowd made it difficult to see much of anything as they made their way to their seat. They made it to the third row, much closer than she had expected. Gregor stepped in and Myrna ended up being right at the end of the bench. Gregor had trouble fitting in between the spaces of the rows but it helped that they all remained standing instead of sitting on the benches. Myrna feared he would throw a temper tantrum from the discomfort he was obviously experiencing but he remained tame. Her eyes were drawn to the front of the sept where the altar was and now she could finally see it. First Queen Regent Cersei caught her eye. The lady was wearing red and gold to match the colors of her house, and her hair was beautifully curled and dangled about her shoulders. Cersei did not seem to be looking at anything, but wore a face that covered the cruel thoughts that are most likely going through her head.
Then Myrna looked a little higher up and gasped. The Hound had been standing there all along at the very top. He had already been watching them. Something gripped her shoulder tightly, and when she looked she saw a massive hand bigger than The Hounds. Gregor let out a deep rumble and noticed he was peering at The Hound with the dirtiest smile she had ever seen. He's laughing at him, Myrna recognized at once.
When she gazed back at The Hound she was unsure as to how to act. The Hound still wore his same old armor and she noticed the cloak with his house's sigil on it, the three black dogs lined up over one another, resting on his back. Soon it would be on Sansa. Myrna was a mixture of melancholy, anger and envy and she saw the same in his cold eyes. His deep, hard frown tightened when he finally pulled away from her eyes, almost as if he were disgusted. The Hound already seemed he had enough of all of this but he had no choice if Myrna wanted to live. Myrna had gave him the permission to do whatever he needed to do to keep them both alive and he was doing just that. Now he stared down the aisle once the sept began to quiet down after filling up. Myrna continued to watch him, and did not mind that his burn was plain in sight. Everyone else around her seemed to avoid looking at him, and they all were peering down the aisle as well. A groan came from the back of the sept from where they came in, and light poured in.
Myrna turned her head slightly so she could see the aisle from the corner of her eye and two lengthy shadows sprawled out on the carpet caught her attention. The silhouette's inched closer with every second and momentarily Myrna saw Sansa clutching Joffrey's arm as he walked her through the crowd. Sansa's dress was an ivory colored ballgown and her red hair was curled and pinned up, and some hair underneath was braided and rested on her shoulders. She sucked in air when she saw Sansa but the girl did not seem to notice anything around her. Sansa's green eyes were locked ahead of her. Don't you have a heart? Sansa's voice from her dream rang in her head. Would Myrna really be able to betray this girl? Once again she felt Gregor's hand tighten on her shoulder. After wincing, Myrna rose her chin as high as she could so she could look at his face. He smiled, but it was cruel. Gregor knew how Myrna was feeling. She swallowed to hold back tears and lowered her gaze to her feet before looking back towards the altar. Sansa had climbed the final step and now approached The Hound warily. Joffrey turned around and revealed a smile that was ten times more mocking than Gregor's had been. Everyone around her was enjoying how her life had been crumbling to pieces with every minute that went by. At least Sansa and The Hound did not seem to want to be there as they had in her dream.
Sansa's silky ivory dress gleamed in the sunlight as did her red hair. Everything was perfect except she was missing a smile every bride should wear. When she was appropriately standing in front of The Hound the septon began his speeches. A few times Myrna had to shut her eyes as it seemed the room would spin around her. Her dream from that morning came into play, but she reminded herself that it was simply a dream and nothing more. Even though Gregor's touch made her skin crawl, she was somewhat grateful that his grip would ensure she would not topple over. Perhaps she was the only one in that room who felt sick.
When she focused her eyes back at the altar The Hound had already draped Sansa in the black and yellow Clegane cloak. The girl grabbed the collar and held it onto her so it would not slip off. It was obvious that it weighed her down, because anything The Hound wore was massive. The septon rambled on, now wrapping their hands together in a piece of cloth. "Now, you may look upon one another's face..." he said in a way that made the situation clearly awkward. The Hound ignored the hint. "...and say the words for all to hear," he stepped back and gave them the command.
They adjusted their feet so they would face each other as best they could. Sansa looked like a child next to The Hound. "Father, smith..." The Hound's deep voice rang but Sansa's was absent so The Hound abruptly stopped. Sansa stood there gawking at him looking rather cumbersome. People began whispering in the crowd.
"Sansa Stark. The words, if you please..." the septon urged the girl.
The girl nodded and took a deep breath. When she opened her mouth to speak she suddenly went limp and her legs gave out on her. A woman screamed when the girl toppled over. The Hound grabbed her before she hit the floor, but she dangled in his arms and was clearly unconscious. Myrna was wrong about being the only one feeling ill it had appeared.
Joffrey grew furious. "What's the matter with her!? Wake her up! Do it!" he yelled at everyone in the room.
An older man who wore metal rings around his neck shuffled as fast as he was able towards Sansa and The Hound. Now The Hound was kneeling so holding the girl would be more comfortable in his arms and the old man could examine her with ease. Myrna felt her belly twist in a knot as the scene unfolded before her. The whispers in the crowd were now becoming conversations and questions. Joffrey was clearly impatient and made his way towards the old man as he hopped up to the top of the altar. They held a perplexed conversation that Myrna could not hear due to the nearby voices muting it, and soon she saw Cersei follow her son to see what was happening.
Someone she did not realize was there stepped out of the sidelines where Joffrey and Cersei had been standing. Tywin Lannister faced everyone and before he even spoke everyone quieted down. "The wedding between Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane will be delayed. Everyone, please return to your normal duties..." he announced loudly. People were quick to obey, and the people in the far back began making their leave. Tywin remained standing there, and for a second she thought he was staring at her but suddenly felt a push next to her. Gregor shoved his way out from the benches and stomped his way up to Tywin Lannister. Myrna awkwardly stood in the middle of the aisle where Sansa and Joffrey had just walked down as she saw Gregor's back grow smaller as he immediately began having a heated conversation with Tywin. Over their heads she noticed The Hound. Still kneeling and with a pretty bride in his arms but his eyes were on Myrna. It were as if he was trying to tell her something, but the risk was too high.
At once Gregor swiftly turned around and was huffing as he made his way back down the aisle and towards the back of the sept. The man was so angry he did not even see Myrna as he hurried by and she turned to watch him leave. People who were in the middle of leaving separated so there would be enough room to let the angry Clegane out without causing any injuries. "He's always been a tough one. You have my condolences," a cool voice came from behind.
Tywin Lannister stood straight and tall with his arms behind his back as he apologized to her. He made his way back to the altar without another word most likely to check on the situation. Myrna was not sure, but despite the calmness in his voice he sounded genuine. Then she took one last look at the crowd of people at the top of the altar. Was Sansa okay? Myrna wondered. How does The Hound feel about all of this? People in her area were now making their way out and she flowed with the crowd. Myrna doubted they would have allowed her near The Hound and even if they did it would only raise questions.
As she made it out of the Sept of Baelor and back inside the walls of the Red Keep she took her time going back to her chamber. The corridors were dead silent. When she walked past the corridor that led to the Round Room and remembered that night when Stannis tried to sack the city. The Hound stumbled in on her, and in the end tried to save her from what is now happening to her. Maybe at the time he did not expect the two of them to end up the way they did. How odd it is that they did not even share intimacy, but yet they longed for each other after it was far too late. Myrna looked down at her hand as she made herself continue towards her bedchamber. They had held hands down at the dungeons. Would she ever get a chance to do that again? Myrna's thoughts rang loud in her head as she found her way to the door of her bedchamber, and she pushed it open.
A large figure had been sitting on the edge of her bed. Everything was dark since the drapes covered the windows and the darkness cloaked him as well. Myrna took a small step towards the figure and the person seemed to notice her now. The figure straightened up and when Myrna was close enough she saw a face come out of the shadow. Myrna froze where she stood. Gregor's eyes locked onto her as his jaw was cupped in his massive hands. Veins bulged on the side of his head and his eyes looked as if they were tired from straining.
"Are you mad?" Myrna asked in a low, husky voice.
Gregor suddenly reached out and grabbed a hold of one of her arms and it made Myrna whimper. He tugged her in close to him roughly but did nothing after. She could feel his breath on her forehead. Even though Myrna was standing and Gregor was sitting he still was taller than her. After glancing around nervously, she focused on his breastplate and waited for him to say anything.
"They're wasting... so much of my fucking time..." he hoarsely whispered to himself and then directed his voice at her sharply while squeezing her arms. "Why do you treat me this way!?" he harshly questioned her.
Confused, Myrna slightly shook her head but did not move her gaze anywhere else. "I do not understand..." she was interrupted when Gregor grabbed her jaw and forced her to look up at him. His eyes were so wide she could see the whites all the way around his dark brown iris. Myrna tried to speak again but his hand made it impossible to do so.
"You were not afraid to look at me when you were young. Why did that change?" he demanded.
A flashback of seeing her brother Nicholas in chains when she still lived at Beaumont Hall filled her with fury. Myrna grabbed Gregor's wrist and with all her might pulled it away from her jaw. Gently she rubbed her face and glared at him with tears welling in her dark eyes. "What you did to my brother was unspeakable. I was protecting my family," she defended herself.
"Would you still protect him?" Gregor grumbled.
"No..." Myrna blurted out but knew she sounded hypocritical. Did Gregor know about her back? Why would he, anyway? "That's not the point. At the time he was good to me and you dishonored him. I saw you kill your own man and you put the blame on my brother," she spat.
Gregor slightly opened his mouth and looked Myrna over before speaking. "Have you seen him lately, woman? Do you know who your brother has become?" he devilishly questioned her. He did not give her a chance to reply. "People fear me, but if they knew your brother, they would choose me every time. There's a reason I hunted for you all these years. Nicholas was close, but I got to you first. You should be on your knees thanking me," he croaked a deep laugh and pushed Myrna down with his hand on the back of her head. Once she realized where he was putting her face she squealed and found her way out of his grasp. Myrna landed hard on her rear from not catching her balance when she was free from Gregor. Backwards she crawled away from him and had to brush her hair away from her face.
"You're... You're a sick man!" she screamed between heavy breaths.
Gregor stood up and slowly approached her. Myrna gulped and her arms trembled as she held herself up with them. "We are not wed yet, so I will let this slide. Just this once," he bellowed as he walked around her. Myrna turned herself so she could watch him make his way to her door and exit without closing it. His footsteps echoed down the corridor and eventually disappeared. Even though he was long gone she remained on the ground and looked around her room. What did he mean by that? Myrna wondered if he spoke the truth. Was he screwing with her head? It would make sense for him to try to win her over emotionally, but that is not something Gregor would do. He was brutally honest like The Hound and did not scheme.
"I have more time now..." Myrna said aloud, trying to forget about her brother. Somehow she had to find Sansa and tell her the plan if the girl was still okay. If not, what will happen then? Suddenly worry washed over her. In the middle of her troubling thoughts something caught her eye. Two shadows came hovering over her. There were people standing outside her door. Myrna looked up at them slowly to see who they were and realized who they were. Her hand turned into a fist.