CHAPTER 3

Hallis Mollen

The atmosphere in the yard was one roiling miasma of violence and steel, a tense air of intense anticipation, and the wild, heart pounding jitters of foreboding. Hal bit his tongue, a habit that he had developed subconsciously in response to the remarks of his loose lips, like he meant to prevent the words from escaping him by physically arresting the appendage responsible for speech. His face was as still as stone, composed, as befitting one that was a member of the Lord Stark's household guards, but underneath his veneer of comportment he was as jittery inside as a fool in motley. This had the potential to turn into something very ugly, he knew. Hal fancied himself a simple man with a simple lifestyle and simple needs. He ate like any other man, fucked like any other man, knew the way of the sword like any reasonable man should, and his life was devoted into the service of Lord Eddard Stark with only two simple objectives in mind; obey and protect. Sure, more than one person had remarked that he was a bit loose of tongue, and that he had the tendency of stating the blatantly obvious like some half-wit fool struggling to catch up with the rest of the world, but a man had to have his flaws yes? That was only human; normal.

In contrast, neither of the men facing each other in the center of the training yard were anything normal. Standing at a monstrous height of around six feet eight inches, Sandor Clegane was a man whose heavy muscles matched his height, making him a hulking brute of a man with strength enough to carve another in two from hip to shoulder with a single swing of his sword. He had an ugly face with grey eyes, a large, hooked nose, long hair dark and thin, and a side of his face was a burned ruin of scars. That side of his face was a grisly mess, with deep cracks that oozed red and wet, an expanse of burned black skin that was pocked with craters and lined with rivers. His ear on that side was missing, replaced with a hole, and when you looked at his face just right, you could spy a hint of bone, jutting out his jaw. Hal shuddered to stare at the man, and could barely stand to look at him for two seconds without feeling the urge to retch. Nicknamed The Hound, Clegane wore soot-dark armor, no helm, and gripped a longsword in his hands. You could see the feral glint in his eyes as he faced down his opponent, and you knew that he meant murder.

On the opposite side of the yard, facing Clegane was a man that Hallis Mullen considered to be strange and enigmatic, though a friend nonetheless. Hal had not accompanied his Lord Stark that fateful day to the execution of the Night's Watch deserter, but he had been made to understand how everything had went by word of Harwin, Hullen's son. To hear Harwin tell it, Jon Snow had chanced upon the man, buried in snow and injuries, and dead as the mighty direwolf not ten feet away, his carcass already half frozen, his spirit long passed. Then, like an abomination from the depths of hell, had risen again; an Other south the Wall like never before seen in a thousand years, a nightmare turned reality with a blade of bronze forged from the lifeblood of over a dozen newborn babes, so that it shone with the intent to kill and slaughter. Hal did not consider himself a very smart man, but he was not stupid either, and so had taken Harwin's words with a grain of salt. However, he could not deny that the words had influenced him more than he had expected, and even though he had not been expecting a horrid abomination of ice and cold and black magic, he had had the impression in his head of an evil man, and if not that at the very least extremely unlikeable; brusque and ruthless and callous. But when Percy Jackson had awoken from his week long coma, the one-eyed man had been the opposite of what had been expected. He'd been confused and delirious at first, then he'd gotten better and had been amiable and witty, with a smile that melted the hearts of many a serving girl. He lacked any inkling of common courtesies, and often went without one's proper titles when referring to, or addressing them, and he had often been bewildered when encountering some things that were supposed to be knowledge so common and ingrained that they escaped ones notice. As much as it rankled most, it lent some credence to his story that the land he had come from was indeed very far away, with very different customs and culture. As he became strong enough to move, Lord Eddard had ordered them to tail him at first, and Hal had been on many a rotation assigned to take note of the man's explorations. He had caused no trouble, become enamored with the Lord's children, had frequently visited the godswood to pray, and little by little had stripped away Hal's notions that he was an unlikable fellow. And when he'd displayed just how skilled at arms he was, he had earned respect from Hal and others, laying the foundation for the beginnings of solid friendships. Seven weeks had passed since Percy Jackson had been brought half alive to Winterfell, and Hal had heard talk that he was to be admitted into the service of the Lord Eddard Stark, and minded it not one bit. However, even as much as he'd come to like the man, Hal was well aware that he still knew very little about Percy's past and origins, and had come to realize the man's roundabout way of giving replies outrageous enough to turn a man over on his head in mirth, deflecting, and leaving questions unanswered.

They had clashed thrice already in a ferocious storm of sword strokes, and the latest lull had only been won when one of Percy's strokes had almost drawn blood, just centimeters away from removing the bottom half of Clegane's nose, his reach just not enough to make the cut. The miss was probably because Percy had misjudged the distance due to his lost eye. It was rare that anyone was able to take advantage of those lapses - Percy was almost otherworldly in his athleticism - but they existed nonetheless; slightly off the mark swings due to a lack of depth perception, and the lack of vision on his left side causing a blindspot in his guard. Hallis could not truly say exactly how the situation had devolved to the point of Percy Jackson and Sandor Clegane facing off against each other. The morning had started like any other, but had devolved in a spiral of taunts and insults, starting off with Prince Jeofrey's insistence on using live blades against Robb, the heir to Winterfell and future Warden of the north. Naturally, knowing it was his head on the line if anything went awry, Ser Rodrik Cassel had shot that down, not budging an inch even when Robb had agreed to the challenge, confident in the way that only young green boys could be, certain of victory. The Hound had gotten involved with a deriding taunt that Hal had forgotten, and Percy, the oddity of a man that had no regard whatsoever for highborn lords and ladies had brazenly stepped in also, coming to the defense of the Starks and doing so in that witty way of his, which had the unfortunate effect of severely offending Prince Jeoffrey. Hal wasn't sure, but Sandor Clegane had said something that caused the face of the one-eyed man to go cold, even as the Prince had begun clamoring about his insulted honor, demanding a combat to the death in recompense. Ser Rodrik had tried to put out the flames, trying to reason with the Prince but Jeofrey would have none of it, and by that point nothing the master-at-arms did would have mattered anyway, because Percy had already accepted, sounding eager even, to go along with the farce. And of course the Lannister men were no help, egging their Prince on, eager to see spilt blood.

If asked, Hallis could not truly say who he expected to triumph in the match between Percy Jackson and Sandor Clegane, just that whichever way it swung, the outcome would be good for no one. He had faced Percy before, like most of the household guards at Winterfell now, and sometimes he did it with a brother beside him, bringing their swords and shields to bear on the one-eyed man two on one. Percy never used a shield, but he had been defeated only once as of yet in Winterfell, and that was only when it had been three on one, and Jory had managed to blindside him from the left, where his vision was extremely limited. Even then, luck had played a part and the feat had never been repeated again as the man continually adjusted his style to compensate for his injury. He had strength and speed like that of five men, and his unpredictability and unorthodox maneuvers was a weapon on its own. Percy was a man who whirled about you like a storm when he fought, making you dance like a dog on three legs, flaying and struggling and constantly off balance. Hal had never seen him make the same move twice in a fight and shielding was not as effective because when he struck your shield it was like your arm was like to splinter and crack in two from the power of the blow, bruising you severely, wearing you down. The man thrived in combat, and having witnessed first-hand just what he was capable of, Hal found it hard to imagine that any single man could defeat him.

On the other hand, Hal had never faced The Hound before, but tales of the man's ferocity had spread far and wide, reaching them even in the north. Sandor Clegane was taller than most men, stronger than most men, and had a brutality to him that made him more monster than man, it was said. Huge and heavily muscled, he was considered one of the most dangerous fighters in the whole of the seven kingdoms, and his opponents rarely - if ever - survived to tell the tale. The look in his eyes told Hal that he was of a mind to butcher Percy up then and there. He had certainly tried.

Faced between the choice of the warrior he had faced but scarcely knew, and the Hound who he had not faced but was so notorious he had become a living legend, a monster under the beds for little kids, Hallis Mollen didn't fancy himself a betting man, and was not so certain of the outcome like the Lannister men and smug faced Prince Jeofrey. He just knew that the fallout of this would not be good either way. If Sandor Clegane won, Percy got butchered no doubt, bad for him, and because Lord Stark had offered him guest right and had taken him under his roof, at the very least relationship would be further soured between the Starks and Lannisters. Cooped up as they were within the walls of Winterfell, Hal didn't even want to imagine what other unpleasantness would surely follow.

And if Percy won? The look in the man's lone eye was cold and dark, and unlike his usual banter when facing Stark men, the only words from him to the Hound had been; "apologize right now," over and over. If Sandor Clegane lost his head instead, then the Lannisters lost their loyal dog, Prince Jeofrey got even more displeased, the Queen got furious, and Hal was even less inclined to try to wrap his head around the potential ramifications of this outcome.

"I'll give you just one last chance to get down on your knees right now and apologize for that comment about my mother." Percy Jackson said, drawing Hal's mind from thoughts of war. The man stood in only a woolen shirt and dark breeches and boots, forgoing armor, a sword in one hand.

This is madness, thought Hal, and not for the first time that morning. The Hound snorted disdainfully.

"Is that so? Well I'm trying, but the words just won't come out of my mouth. I'll probably be able to if your bitch mother can come get her apology herself; on her knees, with her mouth around my cock. But I think then she'd be less concerned about an apology, and more occupied with my gunk spilling down her throat!" The crowd gasped, scandalized, and the Hound lunged with a roar, his blade flashing.

This is madness.

They clashed in another flurry of blows and sword strokes, and Hal felt a queer sort of vindication and smugness when he saw the faces of the Lannister men as they realized Percy continued matching the Hound blow for blow, one handed. The Hound had rushed his opponent probably expecting to overwhelm him from the onset with his heavy two-handed strokes but Percy had been calm and fluid, flicking his sword this way and that, deflecting the blows, waiting, testing. Now, Clegane had shifted to trying to take advantage of the blindspot on Percy's left, but the other man was having none of it, and rebuffed him every time.

"Percy's matching the Hound." Hal said it again, as he had when the two had first clashed, still impressed despite his regard for the man's abilities. Suspecting it was one thing, seeing it was another. After all it was not everyday that one saw a veritable unknown battling someone as renowned as The Hound and holding his own. However, he knew it was only the beginning. Percy had not deigned to go on the offense yet, but Hal knew that when he did, his retaliation would be swift and brutal, overwhelming.

The Lannister men were jeering and hooting, rooting for the Hound, and the Stark men were more concerned and cautious, but they offered Percy words of encouragement here and there and somehow the fight was no longer Jackson vs Clegane, but Stark vs Lannister.

Percy parried the latest stroke from the Hound, and with a burst of speed that threw the battle out of rhythm, darted forward and to the side, dragging his blade along his opponent's left side. The Hound roared, Hal saw that the stroke had bitten through mail and armor to draw up a well of red, and Stark men cheered first blood. Clegane whirled around with a mighty swing to lop of Percy's head, but the man ducked under it, and sprung forward to slash at The Hound's thigh, carving a line into it. Then Percy was on him in that dangerous way of his, pressing the Hound backwards with blurry strokes, the Hound hard pressed to defend. He was all around him, slashing and thrusting, and steel rang out on steel, and armor and flesh sported new gashes from close calls. The Hound roared, frustrated and disbelieving, left with no choice but to defend himself or die, the momentum of the battle lost to him. He should have worn a shield, Hal reckoned, but he'd been too assured that he would face no trouble worth it, forgoing it in his haste to draw blood. The training yard was filled with the sound of clashing steel and jeers and callouts from people who had been swept up by the violence in the air. Men howled and roared, Hallis realized with a start that he was one of them, and the yard had become more and more crowded, bodies pushing against each other as more and more people arrived to watch, drawn by the commotion.

Hal struggled to keep sight of the battle, jostled out of his place by frenzied men itching for a better view. He pushed back without looking, his attention captivated, his gaze riveted on every offensive stroke of Percy's blade, and all the frantic blocks of the Hound's. Then there was a moment when Percy lashed out with a kick that buckled Clegane's knee, putting him off balance, and then Percy was in his face, his sword twirling around in some unorthodox maneuver against his opponent's blade, and suddenly the Hound's blade was wrenched free of his grip, flying into the air above. Percy slammed another mighty kick into Clegane's chest, and when the man was thrown back, he followed straight after him. The crowd surged, smelling blood and victory, and Hal's stalwart defense of his position was overwhelmed as some man pushed and got into his view; Tomard, he realized belatedly. There was a bellowed curse of pain from the Hound, suddenly cut short in tandem with a collective "Ooooh!" from the crowd, and a moment later, Hal had won back his line of sight to the battle. It was already over though; Clegane's headless body was slumped at Percy's feet, the latter's blade buried in his gut, while the former's longsword was in the left handed grasp of the one-eyed warrior, drenched in blood.

"Percy killed the Hound?" Hal lost control of his tongue, gaping.

"No," came Tomard's snide voice from behind him. "He plans to reattach the head later on."

"Did you see that?" Another person was asking, far to the side. "He plucked the blade straight from the air and removed the Hound's head with his own sword!"

Whether by chance or design, Clegane's head had bounced and rolled its way over to the foot of Prince Jeofrey, the horrid face staring up at him in forever silent accusation. The boy Prince was shell-shocked, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, his gaze disbelieving. Hal could probably understand what he was feeling. He had sent the Hound into the battle a giant wall of muscle armored in plate and the confidence of victory, and his opponent had come garbed in wool, missing an eye and maybe half a feet shorter. Yet Clegane had been fought and bested, then brutally finished off and his opponent bore not even a scratch on him. Hal blinked, dazed, as it sank in that it was a literal truth; Percy Jackson had taken no blows from Sandor Clegane in that fight, but had relieved the man of the burden of his horrid head, to be returned to the Prince.

Prince Jeofrey screamed, a wail of horror and rage.

"Kill him," He shouted, looking half crazed. "Kill them, Kill them all!"

The air rang with the tune of steel against scabbard as Lannister men drew their swords in response to the Prince's order, and Stark men drew theirs in defense of themselves. Hal pushed through, naked steel in hand, to stand beside Percy Jackson, who was still holding onto Clegane's sword, and was eyeing the Lannisters - Jeofrey especially - speculatively. Hal reckoned that he really did not want to know what was going through that one-eyed head of his and tore his gaze from the man, focusing his own fierce glare on the opposing forces.

The atmosphere grew increasingly tense by the second, both sides staring the other down, all open hostility, but unsure if they wanted to start up a war over a training yard dispute. Then Jeofrey, the little shit of a Prince, roared;

"What are you all waiting for? Kill them, kill them, kill them! I want them all dead!"

The Lannister men, resigned to their course, began to move, and Stark blades went higher up in preparation. Quite oddly, Hallis thought he felt the ground begin to rumble slightly, but it was probably just his pounding heart.

"ENOUGH!" The impending chaos stuttered to a halt at the sound of that powerful roar, and Hal joined many others in turning their heads towards the direction that it had come from. A corridor walled by bodies formed as people parted for the throng of newcomers, and he recognized King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, striding through the crowd a heavy jowled royal, clad in heavy wool and fur, and surrounded by the white cloaks of the kingsguard. Hallis' own Lord followed behind the King, surrounded by Stark men, a heavy, displeased scowl on his face.

It's the King, Hal thought.

"It's the King." Hal said.

The King surveyed the whole yard, gaze dancing over dark faces and tensed bodies, and Hal could see him trying to piece together what had happened. Then his gaze landed on the head of Sandor Clegane where it had been nudged over by the terrified Prince, and his face went bewildered as he recognized it for the Hound's.

"Who-What is the meaning of this?" The bewilderment was fast fading, a jaw purpling anger overtaking its place.

"How did this happen? Whose work was this?"

"He bit off more than he could chew." Percy said fearlessly, stepping forward. Mercy, Hal thought, and stepped with him.

"Be courteous, Percy, if you value your head, or ours." He whispered fiercely to his friend from behind. The only sign that Percy heard him was the slight tilt of his head, like he was considering it. Hal prayed he made the sensible decision.

King Robert's narrowed eyes riveted upon him like a cat upon a mouse, eyeing him bodily and taking note of the blade in his hand, stained with the Hound's still drying blood.

"Your Grace, Your Grace!" The boy Prince was screaming, pushing towards the King. King Robert's eyes flicked to his son only for a second before training back on Percy. He made to speak, but his son was still half crazed, and bulled right over him.

"This one-eyed monster insulted my honor and butchered my dog, and the Stark men stood aside and watched. They should all be cut up in little pieces and fed to the dogs."

"Silence boy!" King Robert snapped. To Percy he asked; "And who are you, young man?"

"Percy Jackson." Percy said, then added as an afterthought. "Your Grace."

Late, Hal sighed, and he gave no bow, but at least he isn't calling the King by his name. That would have been very bad.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark came forward. "Percy Jackson is a guest of Winterfell. He has respected the laws of the north and caused me no trouble before. There must be something else to the matter if he would go as far as to kill the Hound."

It was obvious that King Robert favored the Lord Stark, and with his friend vouching for Percy, Hal saw the King's face calm a little, more ready to listen now.

"Your Grace." Ser Rodrik pushed through, drawing attention just as the King turned back to face Percy. Hal might be wrong, but it seemed to him that Ser Rodrik had the same fear as he did; if allowed to speak, Percy Jackson's nonchalant demeanor might well undo the tentative calm that Lord Eddard Stark had just forged. "I was here for the whole thing my Lord, if I may be given leave to speak?"

"Ser Rodrik Cassel is the master-at-arms here at Winterfell." Lord Stark explained. "If allowed, he would tell it fair and true, on my honor as a Stark." The King grunted at that, waving his arm.

"Very well then. Tell it true, Ser Rodrik."

"Your Grace, Prince Tommen and Bran had just had a fine match, and I'd wondered whether the crown Prince would indulge Robb another go, but Prince Jeofrey had demanded live steel and for their safety, I had denied them the match. Sandor Clegane had come forward, challenging a decision well within my rights as the master-of-arms, insulting our knights by referring to them as women, and Prince Jeofrey had given insult to Robb also, calling him a little boy."

"It had been naught but training yard banter, Your Grace, well common among men at arms, and in the spirit of that banter, Percy Jackson had come forward and defended Robb, saying that the Prince was also a little boy. The Prince however, had taken serious offense, and Sandor Clegane had severely insulted Percy's mother. Prince Jeofrey had demanded his honor to be defended then and there, through combat to the death, and had chosen the Hound as his champion. Percy Jackson stood against him, and they fought, and Percy triumphed and killed the Hound. You arrived just at the tail end, Your Grace."

Hal watched King Robert Baratheon with bated breath, and it was like the whole yard was of the same mind as he, nary a sound to be heard but the whispers of blowing winds as they all waited for the King's verdict. The King roved his eyes over Ser Rodrik, then Percy, then the host of Lannister men, grunting irritably. Then his eyes snapped over to Jeofrey.

"Well boy? Did it happen like Ser Rodrik told it? Did you demand this man face Sandor Clegane in a combat to the death?"

Prince Jeofrey's eyes roved around the yard, and Hal could see that the boy would have liked to lie but for the fact that with so many witnesses, his word wouldn't have stood, Crown Prince or not.

"Yes, father. He had insulted my honor!" He blustered.

"Well then, there's nothing to be done!" Declared King Robert, huffing and rolling his eyes. "You chose to demand recompense for your... insulted honor, through trial by combat in the eyes of gods and men. You were untouched, and it was your choice to have your justice be won through a battle to the death, therefore this man has done no wrong but obey your orders. The gods looked favorably on Percy Jackson today, Sandor Clegane is dead, and I declare this matter settled! I will not have the houses of Stark and Lannister at war because of what basically started as harmless banter between two little boys, and the death of some horrid guard dog."

Hal slowly let out the breath he had been holding, the white knuckled grip he had on his blade relaxing slightly. Despite the King's verdict, he was not as stupid to believe that the matter was truly settled then and there, but at least Robert Baratheon seemed to have no interest in pursuing vengeance for the Hound's death, and any Lannister revenge ploy was unlike to come through official channels. He watched as the King ordered the Lannister men to escort the Princes back into the keep, Jeofrey furious and fuming, Tommen wide-eyed and looking like he was about to burst into tears. He wondered how in the world those two turned out to come from the same womb. King Robert huffed and puffed, obviously discomfited with the whole fiasco, grumbling inaudible words to the Lord Stark.

"Please go on inside without me Your Grace," Eddard Stark's words on the other hand, Hal could hear. "I mean to have words with my men."

King Robert grunted understandingly, taking the measure of all the Stark men standing still as stone, silent as the dead, all awaiting the word of the Lord of Winterfell with anxiety in their gazes. His gaze lingered for a long while on Percy Jackson's one-eyed visage, and somehow, even though he couldn't see Percy's face, Hal knew that he matched the King's gaze eye for eyes.

Mercy.

"Don't be too long, Ned." The King said at last, and turned around in his heavy garments, looking for all the world like a giant round ball, and marched back towards the keep, escorted by his kingsguard.

Lord Eddard Stark waited till he was out of sight before turning around to face his men. The look in his eyes was as cold as ice, his face drawn and still, and Hal bit his tongue before the words could escape him that the Lord of Winterfell was looking to be in a right rage. That much was clear without his input, and the reminder would only serve to earn him more snide remarks from Tomard.

The Lord of Winterfell opened his mouth, and Hallis Mollen swallowed a silent gulp. The resulting chastisement was as bad as he had feared.

Would anyone believe me if I said this was not planned in the slightest? I'd wanted to skip over this completely, then I really thought about it, and realized there was no way chaos wouldn't happen, not with Jeofrey being who he is, Clegane being who he is, and Percy being who he is.

Anyways, please let me know what you think. Review, favorite, and follow, I'll see you next week with the next chapter.