Chapter 2
Notes:
Just a friendly trigger warning for the last section. The Clegane brothers having a little heart to heart, which includes them speaking of various past events that include non-con events and alleged non-con events.
Also, we got two Clegane's in a room, so prepare for profanity.
(See the end of the chapter formore notes.)
Chapter Text
(North – The day of the deserter's execution)
Ned Stark watched as his children were herded by the great Direwolf. Farlen had rushed into his solar, not more than an hour after Eddard had left the beast with him. The pups that had been, and apparently would be his children's companions had once more come into the world. That had been early in the morn and now the Direwolf had left her pups under the watchful eye of Winterfell's kennel master as she made her way through Winterfell, seeking.
It had been Catelyn's frantic cry which had drawn him to the courtyard. It was Eddard's youngest, Rickon which the Direwolf had found first. The young boy had been giggling from the great wolf's back as she took him to the kennels, Bran who'd been enjoying a morning climb had been next. She'd waited patiently for Bran to return to the ground before pushing him gently in the direction of the kennels. Sansa and Arya had been in the midst of a sewing lesson, and Eddard would be deceiving himself if he did not admit the Septa's scream of fright had not brought him a small bit of joy.
It had been the older boys that she'd had to wait the longest for, they had been in the training yard when this all began. They had paused at both Catelyn and Septa Mordane's cries. It was only when they noticed the massive wolf watching them patiently that they put up their tourney swords and moved to follow her. Eddard had winced when the Direwolf had viciously snapped at Theon when the boy attempted to follow as well. He knew the mistakes the boy was destined to make but had not yet decided how best to handle the matter.
He arrived at the kennels to find Farlen sitting with his hounds, "Milord," he greeted, "she gave Lady Stark quite the growl when she came back with your daughters, and the Lady was trying to take Bran and Rickon away. I warned her she might not want to anger such a beast."
"A fair warning Farlen," Eddard moved towards the door, "I'll see about having another kennel constructed."
The kennel master shook his head, "She not staying here milord, she imprinted on you. Been talking it over with the maester, he checked the old tomes. She won't want to be far from your side, that's why she gathered up your pups, so they can help take care of hers."
Eddard had never truly thought about how his children and their wolves had bonded. He remembered the great emotional pain Sansa felt after he'd been forced to kill Lady by that treasonous bitch Cersei. He knew Arya had similarly felt a longing for her Nymeria. That loss and separation would not take place this time.
Entering the kennels, he found his children each holding one of the pups. It took him a few minutes to realize each pup was with their appropriate partner, another sign the Old Gods had intended these pups to be with his children. It was Jon who first took notice of him, and it hurt him deeply that the boy seemed relieved when he noticed Catelyn had not entered as well. Jon stood and moved to put Ghost back in the pile of hay Farlen had placed to keep the pups warm. Ghost's mother made a plaintive and confused whimper.
"What are you doing Jon?" Eddard asked.
Jon froze, the eyes of his siblings upon him, "I was putting the pup back, I do not know why she wanted me to hold him."
"Because he is yours stupid," Arya voiced from where she sat with Sansa, the two using rags soaked in milk to feed their pups. Farlen must have brought the bucket and rags, Eddard wondered if the Direwolf had been injured in some way before he'd arrived to remove the antlers from the stag. Though, from the amount of activity she had been doing today, it may simply be the kennel master had an inkling of what the she-wolf was doing as he'd pointed out that the number of pups equaled the number of children when you included Jon.
Eddard had to chuckle at the bluntness of his younger daughter, "Well, if not a little crassly, put." Eddard moved to Jon's side; he'd thought sending the boy to the Night's Watch would protect him. It had done the exact opposite; it was no place for his son. "She pulled you here because she sensed you were as much of my blood as any of my children."
Jon bowed his head, "Thank you, father."
"Good," Eddard looked over each of his children, "seems you will all need to add tending to your wolves to your daily schedules. Let's leave them with their mother here at least until they are a bit older." The day must have gotten away from him, as Jory appeared at the door with a grim look.
Unlike the last time, Ned's party included the addition of four dire wolves. His daughters and Rickon were back at Winterfell tending to their pups. Farlen had jury-rigged a harness for the pups to ride with each of his sons, this would help the horses become less unnerved by the wolves being so close. The Direwolf mother would not leave Ned's side, much as Farlen had said. The horse he'd used the previous night had yet to be found, his current horse was a seasoned warhorse that would not shy so easily.
The execution did not differ much, he still heard Jon warning Bran not to look away. A major difference though came upon the moment Eddard asked the man for his final words. When the terrified man made his reference to the Others, Ned knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He then leaned in and whispered to the man, "Winter is coming."
For some reason, the recitation of Eddard's house words gave the man renewed courage. He looked Ned firmly in the eyes and gave a curt nod before placing his neck upon the block. While Eddard could not fault the poor man for fleeing from a fate worse than death, the man had still deserted and broken his oath to the Night's Watch. His fate was sealed by his cowardice, and no last-moment display of bravery could alter that fact.
Eddard blatantly remembered Theon's antics from before. He kicked the deserter's head around for a few moments before Robb chastised him. There was none of that this time, Theon dared not budge from his spot as the head only rolled a foot before a massive paw held it in place. The Direwolf gave Eddard a look of curiosity. Eddard knew these creatures were far more intelligent than either wolves or dogs, yet he wondered if the Direwolf believed everything he cut was hers to eat.
Turning to the guards who'd captured the deserter Ned sighed, "Burn the remains and have the ashes sent back to the Wall." He was surprised when he turned back to find the Direwolf picking up the severed head in her jaws and following the two guards who were dragging the body toward the awaiting pyre, she dropped the head beside the body before returning to his side. Ned scratched between her ears, "Good girl."
It was Theon who remarked, "Lord Stark, she followed your command."
"Aye," Eddard looked to his ward, "I'm starting to see why my ancestors kept them around. Some say they're good judges of character. What do you think Theon?"
The boy snorted, "Think she's just a mutant wolf, can't imagine how much it'll take to feed her, let alone the rest of them once they're eating solids."
Ned thought he knew what was coming next and was preparing himself to go through the loss of Jon Arryn for a second time. It had been hard enough the first time as that older Bran had not focused much on the fact that it happened. The boy had emotionlessly informed him, that he would explain it in due course. He swore to do all in his power to ensure his son never became such a cold and unfeeling creature as that boy had become.
So, it came as some surprise when Catelyn came to him in the godswood crying inconsolably. In her hands was not clutched one letter, but three. The first had come from King's Landing, addressed to him, and was the expected news of Jon Arryn's death. The second letter had ended any plans Ned was making for bringing the two poisoners to justice, it was a letter from Edmund Tully explaining Lysa had been killed by bandits at the Crossroad's Inn, and that Catelyn's childhood friend Peter Balish, who'd been Master of Coin was murdered on the streets of silk. Catelyn's one consoling piece of news was Robin Arryn had been left unharmed by the bandits and would be coming north with the King's party.
It was the third letter that truly surprised him, it held the seal of the Lord Paramount and Warden of the West. Tywin had even added the flourishes to the seal which both Luwin and Catelyn knew could cost them their heads if they even dared to break the seal on the letter. The letter contained very basic information, implying Tywin had important matters to discuss with his fellow Warden and would not trust normal means of communication. He would be arriving ahead of the royal party.
Catelyn frowned, "Why is the old lion coming here?"
Ned grimaced; it was the last line of the letter that disturbed him. Tywin had added a postscript, which was highly irregular for these types of missives. 'I know about the boy' was plainly written.
(Highgarden – Around the same time)
Mace Tyrell would never openly claim his family's ancestral ties to the First Men. Yet of the Reach, he knew the Hightowers, Tarlys, and Redwynes were among the vilified traitor houses. The Tyrells had bent the knee to the Andal invaders, along side the Gardeners and had served them loyally as stewards until the coming of Aegon the Conqueror. There was a reason that historically the First Men of the Reach were never found to marry their northern counterparts. Had he realized his mother's plan to marry the Stark daughter to his eldest son, he'd have been split groin to neck by Lord Hightower. The man had never gotten over his daughter marrying a Mormont.
He'd risen from his sick bed only a few days past, his mind reeling with what had been shown to him. Within days he'd been visited by the heads of the other three First Men houses. They too had been laid up with fevers of which their maesters could find no cause, even the archmaesters at the Citadel could not understand. Tarly had blamed it on their ancestry, but Redwyne had rationalized it was only the four of them who had become ill, no of their kin or any other First Men descendants. It was not the fevers that concerned Mace, it was the visions that had haunted him. Death was coming for them all.
Lord Leyton had wished to speak with Mace separately from Lord Tarly and Lord Redwyne. So, Mace agreed to meet in private while the other two men went to check how their families were settling in. The door had barely shut behind the other two men when Leyton spoke, "I am heading north. My ship is already prepared for my departure. I will go to Winterfell and seek forgiveness for my kinfolk of ages past. We have been greedy and ambitious. We commissioned the Citadel to expunge our connections to the First Men, we abandoned our gods in favor of those seven who are one fools, and worst of all we have put ourselves above the needs of our people. We have forgotten the true reason we ruled our people, the reason the Starks have ruled for eight times a thousand years."
Mace nodded, "Aye, a reasonable action following what we have been through, what we have seen. I will admit I am not the smartest man, but I cannot let mother and the game govern our actions anymore. The true enemy is coming if we are not prepared. The Reach has one purpose Leyton, and it is a purpose we have failed. We must prepare, for as the Starks say, winter is coming."
"The enemy is at the gate Mace," Leyton grimaced, "they are pounding on the door. I have ordered my sons to restore our godswood, to make the pilgrimage to the isle of faces and restore the heart tree."
"Of course," Mace nodded, "I'll have Garland do the same, Willas is unable to make the journey, and Loras is too caught up in his own affairs to take this seriously. I would have you take a message to Winterfell. Lord Stark has never struck me as a man for betrothals, he saw how they drove his siblings to such rash actions. His son needs a wife of the blood, and it is time we reunited with our brothers and sisters of the North."
Leyton chuckled, "Your mother is going to have a heart attack, she has planned for the Rose of Highgarden to be queen."
"You did not see the visions I did Leyton," Mace looked seriously at his bannerman, "my children dead or maimed. My House brought low. The gods have given us this chance, we must not fail. I will have Tarly begin to organize training drills and have Redwyne prepare the fleet. I will draw up a trade agreement with Dragon Stone for dragonglass, and send traders to Essos to acquire every piece of Valarian steel they can find and hire any smiths who can reforge it. When the days grow short and there is a chill in the air. We will be ready to send the Others back into their frozen wasteland.
(Dorne – Approximately the same time)
Oberyn paced as he read the various odd letters that had made their way to his brother's desk. The strangest of the lot had to be the Old Lion's letter revealing it was his daughter Cersei who had ordered the rape and murder of his sister Elia and the death of her children. The younger Prince was almost floored when he read that Tywin Lannister would rescind any protection of Cersei and her eldest child Joffrey but pleaded for the lives of Cersei's younger two children.
Doran entered the solar, "I was surprised brother as well. Have you read the one from Willas, it was meant for you, but was delivered to me by mistake."
"I am sure," Oberyn frowned as he took up the letter from his friend Willas Tyrell. The heir of Highgarden wrote that his father had taken ill and had been battling a fever for several weeks. This had left Willas in charge of the Reach, though his grandmother had made her presence felt. Oberyn knew Willas had a great distaste for the game, though he himself was quite the admirable player in it. Most of the other players of Westeros allowed Willas' infirmity to blind them to the young man's skill. Willas was learned, and a scholar in his own right, no little thanks to his friendship with Oberyn who'd tutored him on many topics the wizened maester of Highgarden viewed as beneath a future Lord Paramount and Warden of the South. That had always rankled Doran, that the Tyrells were the Wardens of the South, yet like everyone else, they were north of Dorne. Oberyn frowned at the mention of a fever, "Did not House Dayne send word that Lord Dayne had such a fever."
Doran nodded, "Aye, he was already on his deathbed, but the maester claims the fever seemed to revitalize the man. Lord Dayne has written that he wishes to meet, that there is much he must impart, and surprisingly it is not the Stranger he referred to. He claims the Old Gods have given him a reprieve, but only just such. His ancestors call him, and that call cannot be waylaid long. For the love of his kin and ours, I will make the journey to Starfall, though the mountain air does nothing for my gout."
The frown on Oberyn's face deepened, "A fever that only affects people with the blood of the First Men but does not appear to spread as a normal illness. Afflicting individuals leagues apart who have had no obvious contact with each other. Brother?"
Doran sighed, "Fine, you may go to Highgarden and investigate the incident there. If you learn of any others, please do not run off halfcocked to investigate them without first contacting me. Take your paramour and your daughters, it will allay any suspicions of the reasoning for your visit. You have long tried to convince Willas to take your eldest daughter as a paramour and bodyguard. Perhaps this time, imply it to be more House Martell wishing to make amends for the unfortunate accident that left him crippled. Obara has never been opposed to the idea, she has sworn she will never marry and refused any suggestion of legitimization."
Ellaria Sand entered the chamber fully, having been standing next to Aero Hotah at the door for some time. Doran knew the woman's loyalty was to Dorne and she would never betray Oberyn especially. She crossed imperiously, being the mother of Oberyn's four youngest, she was the only motherly figure in the lives of the elder four. "You would sell your niece to be the bed warmer of a cripple?"
Oberyn rolled his eyes, knowing Ellaria was protective of the girls. It was Doran who the accusation had been aimed at, Oberyn knew his eldest daughter would never agree to be a pawn in a political marriage. As he also knew Willas was far too honorable to treat any woman, even one born out of wedlock, with anything less than the greatest of respect. Obara had been agreeable to the proposal as she knew Willas would never use her as a bed warmer, Willas was far too pious and honorable for such things.
The look on Doran's face could kill, to accuse him of not caring for family was paramount to slapping him across the face. Oberyn had made that mistake once and had ended up exiled to Essos for a second time, though it had given him cover to meet with the deposed dragons. Doran looked to Oberyn, "Change of plans, you will go with your daughters, but Ellaria will be going with my lady wife to Essos to collect some things Lord Tywin entrusted me to obtain."
Oberyn looked back at the letter from Tywin, but saw nothing of the sort mentioned, "I see nothing of such mentioned here brother."
Doran held up another letter, Oberyn recognized the seal on the letter held the flourishes which signaled it was for the eyes of a lord paramount only. Meaning even the maester had not read the contents of the letter, "It is something I must delegate carefully, lest we draw unwanted ire from a certain fat stag upon the throne."
The next day found the Martells gathered upon the docks of Sunspear. Arianne would be remaining in the city to govern in her father's stead. A wheelhouse was waiting for Doran, while two ships awaited their passengers. Mellario of Norvos would be accompanied by her two sons and Ellaria, their assignment in Essos was secret. Only Mellario knew the particulars, which she would share with the others after they set sail. The other ship awaited Oberyn and his daughters, it was destined for Oldtown, where Sarella would join her father and siblings on the journey to Highgarden.
Doran looked to his departing family, "Whatever is going on, we must be prepared. Arianne, I will return within a moon, two at the most. I know you will have no trouble keeping Dorne in one piece in my absence. To the rest of you, safe voyages, and may you all achieve the goals set before you. Remember, we are House Nymeros Martell, unbowed, unbent, unbroken."
(King's Landing – Two days after the death of Peter Balish)
Sandor Clegane glared at the massive form of meat and muscle sitting at the empty bar. Gregor took note of his entrance, "Finally showed your ugly mug, I've been waiting for over an hour." He thumped the bar next to him, "Wench get your ass out here and pour a pint for my shit-faced brother."
A girl of no older than nine and ten name days entered and quickly poured a flagon and set it on the bar. Sandor hated his brother, and knew it was better to not anger the massive brute that made him look small, "What's the meaning here? Why Lord Tywin sent you to the capital, not like he lets his dog off the leash."
"What? Cannot a brother simply want to see his only living kin," Gregor downed what was most definitely not his first drink of the day, "We haven't seen each other since the Greyjoy Rebellion, oh how those Iron Born wenches squirmed. Though, you were too busy imagining their men folk were me to wet your pecker. That was some brutality I never thought your pansy ass was capable of."
"I had a good teacher," Sandor sat at the opposite end of the bar, and Gregor slid the flagon towards him, "that scene on the streets of silks the other night. From the sounds of it, reminded me of how one of your boys works."
Gregor shrugged, "Might have been, might not of, who cares. The mockingbird was a right git, probably mouthed off to the wrong people. People don't even care, they're all morning the Old Falcon, hells I'm here guarding Lord Kevan who came to pay respect in the name of Lord Tywin."
Sandor frowned, "Lord Kevan is in the city?"
"Aye," Gregor snickered, "asked him why we didn't go straight to the castle. The lion said he is not here to pander to his nieces the Queen's wishes to be the center of everyone's attention. We're using the old manse; he'll pay his respects to the royal family before we leave the city."
"Better make it quick," Sandor growled, "the day after the funeral for the Old Falcon, the royals are headed North. The Queen has been trying to get Lord Tywin named the new Hand, but the King is insistent on Lord Stark."
Gregor nodded, "Well, they'll be leaving with one less dog."
Slowly, Sandor's hand reached for his dagger, "Is that so?"
"Aye, and don't be stupid, I didn't mean it like that." Gregor tossed a missive on the bar, "Lord Tywin has ordered you home. The Old Lion is making moves, he even set out for the North before sending Lord Kevan to the capital."
A grimace came to Sandor's face as he read the missive, "I'm to return to Clegane's Keep and await further instructions. He does realize having us under the same roof will undoubtedly result in us killing each other."
Gregor snorted as he downed another pint, "I fucked up little brother." He narrowed his black eyes on his brother, "Back during the sack of this shithole city. I thought I was following Lord Tywin's orders. Turns out they were the orders of that bitch queen. Lord Tywin has rescinded all protections for me and Lorch over this. I ride for the North, going to admit my guilt to Lord Stark and swear my life to the fucking watch. I heard Lorch tried to flee, but one of the other Lannisters caught him, he's on a ship bound for Eastwatch as we speak."
"You, in the fucking Night's Watch," Sandor snorted, "you going to swear off women. You fucking raped our sister."
Gregor stood up violently, his face burning red, "I never laid a hand on her, and what would you know? You were a pup when she died."
Sandor stood as well, hand on the hilt of his sword, "The servants talked, they went on about how you followed her into the godswood. She was found floating in the pond. That was why father sent you away to foster."
"I killed father because he was the one who did that to our sister," Gregor snarled, "I was sent away because I tried to protect her. You were a child; your memory of our parents is skewed. You think I am a monster, everything I ever did was to protect your ungrateful ass."
"How was burning half my fucking face off protecting me?" Sandor snarled.
Gregor growled, "Our grandfather was knighted for saving Lord Tywin's father from a lioness. Our father was little more than a commoner playing at being a noble. Father knew shit about handling an estate, he had debts that he could never pay. He and mother were going to sell you to a fucking Essosi pleasure house. Our maester found out and sent word to me, why else do you think I showed up so suddenly? You think I gave a rat's ass about some toy knight I hadn't touched in years and had thrown out?"
"What of all your wives?" Sandor glared, "You've gone through quite a few of them."
Gregor huffed, "You think any woman wants to be married to a man with my reputation? I am not the gallant knight their septa have promised they'd be wed to. I'm the monster their mothers used to keep them from wandering past their castle walls at night. Hell, not like I've gotten the best of selections. The first was a sickly Frey girl, her father's jap at fulfilling a promise with our father, she practically died of fright. My second wife was a harpy, nothing was ever good enough, and I warned her about my headaches, unlike with our father it was an actual accident. As for the third one, I think she's still visiting her mother." Gregor noticed his brother's eyes narrowing and frowned, "before you ask, I don't go around killing the servants and secretly dispose of their bodies. They've become so skittish over all the fucking rumors about me that I show any sign of anger or displeasure and they practically flee into the night."
"So," Sandor watched as his brother sat back down, the stool he sat on protesting the abnormal weight, "I get the keep and you're off to the Wall. Not exactly how I saw our last parting going."
"Not exactly keen on spending the rest of my days fighting wildlings and whatever abominations exist beyond the Wall." Gregor shook his head, "Lord Tywin said if I didn't do this, he'd cut off my head and send it to Dorne dipped in wax. I'm not smart, but I'm not an idiot either. If I go against Lord Tywin, I'd have all of Westeros coming after me. Not even I'd survive that."
Sandor raised his flagon, "May a wildling cut your balls off before they freeze brother."
"Don't go getting yourself killed little brother," Gregor snickered, "almost forgot," standing back up the Mountain unsheathed his greatsword, "Lord Tywin also made this an order, so, none of that shit of yours about swearing off being a knight. You have the makings of a knight more than me."
Snarling, Sandor stood and dropped to a knee, "Cut me with that blasted thing, and I'll run you through before any wildling gets the chance."
"Don't tempt me," Gregor rested the blade on Sandor's shoulder as he charged his brother to uphold the vows of a knight. Once he was done, he sheathed the sword, "Rise Ser Sandor Clegane of Clegane's Keep."
Notes:
To clarify, as Oberyn was figuring out as Lord Dayne and Mace were both afflicted by the fevers. Bran and the Three-Eyed Raven can only connect to people who have the blood of the Fist Men. They are also limiting it to people that can affect changes in events to prepare for the Long Night. In the North this is limited to Ned because of the fanatical loyalty of the Stark's banners. If they'd only selected Mace, his banners would have thought him mad, but with Hightower, Redwyne, and Tarly backing him, that's the might of the Reach. For obvious reasons Bran isn't going to reach out to Robert Baratheon.
Those who've received visions/had fevers
North - Ned Stark
West - Tywin Lannister; Kevan Lannister
Riverlands - ?
Vale - ?
Stormlands - ?
Reach - Mace Tyrell, Leyton Hightower, Randyll Tarly, Paxter Redwyne
Crownlands - ?
Iron Islands - ?
Dorne - Lord Dayne of Starfall
For the Clegane section I was trying to aim for a less one dimensional Gregor, but still have him remain as monstrous as he is in the books/show. In the books all we learn about him is from other people who hear about him through rumors and gossip, and he obviously never speaks of his past. He admits to the crimes he has committed, Elia, the baby, his and Sandor's father, and his second wife as brought up in this scene. Also, while adding a more reasoning behind the burning there is still the fact his first and apparently only option was to burn his brother's face.
