"When we make it to the Free Cities, I'm gonna buy you a pretty silk dress." Sandor slurs behind her, his body loose and swaying in Stranger's stride, and the wine he slurped throughout the day.

"What if I don't want a silk dress?"

"You're a lady. A lady needs a silk dress."

"I'm no lady. Besides, why waste money on things such as silk?"

"You will be some day." Sandor chuckles behind her and buries his face in her neck, kissing and nipping at her tender flesh.

Viola elbows him in the ribs and shakes his mouth from her neck. The sun was beating down on them, she was starving, and Sandor stinks of wine, sweat, and horse; though she doubt she smelled any better. She was in no mood for his advances, especially in broad daylight when he was piss drunk.

Sandor had been drunk for three straight days, ever since they had left the brothel in Deep Den where they had stopped for the night. Unbeknownst to her, not only had he filled both water skins with wine, but he had also smuggled several bottles into their saddlebag to refill the skins throughout their voyage to Stoney Sept where they are to stop one final time before embarking on the final leg of their journey.

"You're drunk." Viola inches further up the saddle, but leans her head back against his chest as Sandor giggles.

"Aye. That I am." Sandor agrees and laces his hands in her lap, his arms causing her threadbare dress to stick to her flesh with sweat. "My brother can't keep a wife alive long enough to whelp, much less a whore. Only a matter of time before he gets what's coming to him, and by birthright, Clegane Keep will pass on to me. Making you its lady."

"You have a keep?" Viola glares at him over her shoulder.

"I just said I don't have a keep, my brother does."

"So why didn't we go there?"

"Swore I wouldn't step foot in the damned place again so long as I live the day I left. I've kept that oath, and intend to continue to do so."

"How could I ever be a Lady, if my Lord refuses to step foot in his own castle?"

"Ha!" Sandor barks with laughter, his entire body rippling with it. "It is no castle. Only the keep and a few walls remained when I was a boy, but it was more than enough space for us. Far from a castle, though."

"Oh, do forgive me, M'lord." Viola jests, elbowing her husband in the ribs once more. "I bet you had a septa and all, and would have to shout for them to come tend to you."

"A septon, mind you."

"Did he wipe your ass and blow your nose for you, too?"

"No. He did no such thing. Likely would have skinned me alive should I ever even ask it of him. Hateful old man, he was. Once boxed my ears so hard I couldn't walk straight for a week."

"I'm sure you had it coming, too. I bet you were a wretched child."

"Aye. I was a child, most are wretched. I played a jest on my sister. I put dung in her slipper as she slept, and the next morning when she slipped her foot inside, her screams woke the whole keep. My brother was in Lannisport at the time, so everyone knew it had to have been me. I hadn't thought it through all the way, I had hoped one of the wards of my father's would be blamed, but they each had alibis, and so I took the lashing from my father like a man. The ear boxing from Septon Bollis however, I screamed like a babe and hid in my mother's skirts until the maester pried me from her leg and put me to bed with a cup of dreamwine."

"Sandor Clegane!" Viola smacks is hand and Sandor chuckles once more. "That was cruel! Why would you do that to her?"

"She broken one of my toys the day before. It was an accident, and she was sorry for it, but I wanted to get her back." Sandor goes quiet a moment as he releases her waist and gulps from the water skin. "At least I didn't press her face to brazer."

"What?" Viola turns to look at Sandor once more to find him staring intently ahead of them, his brow furrowed. "Why did you say that?"

"You're not one to let anything slip pass, are you?" Sandor peels his eyes from the road ahead of them and looks down at her, his grey eyes watery with drink. "My dear elder brother gave me this." Sandor taps his scared face with his index finger then takes another long pull from his water skin. "All because I played with his toy. I didn't steal it, I was only playing with it. I would have given it back, had he asked, but he didn't. Just grabbed me by the back of the head and pressed my face to the hot coals. Father told everyone my bedding caught fire. Everyone knew, though. They knew what my brother was capable of, and no one ever bothered to stop him."

"Sandor…I'm so sorry." Viola turns fully in the saddle, her lower back screaming, and wraps her arms around his waist. He pats her on top of her head, and pushes her away gently, forcing her to straighten. "Why would he do that to you? You're his brother."

"He's a mean bastard." Sandor growls out, pulling Stranger to a halt along the side of the road. He slings himself off with a grunt and thuds to the ground. "Got to take a piss."

Sandor lumbers off into the not so distant rock coverage and releases is bladder with a deep moan, leaving Viola to mull over the revelation he had left her with. Though he had told her that it had not been Joffrey whom had left him disfigured, she had always been under the impression that her husband was being modest, and the boy, or at the very least his mother, had truly had a role in his scaring. Elias was not perfect by any means, but her own elder brother would never dream of doing such a thing to anyone, much less her. They squabbled occasionally, as siblings are prone to do from time to time, but most he would ever do to her for taking something that belonged to him was pull her hair and run to Mother, who in turn would give her a scornful look at best, a quick rap with a wooden spoon across her knuckles at worst. Father would never dream to conceal his sons crimes should he do something so heinous.

Once, when Elias was no older than ten, he had struck Viola during a heated argument that now was completely forgotten, no matter how hard she try to remember the nature of it, and she was left with a large blackened eye for her suffering. Father instructed Elias to follow him to the forrest, where he was told to chose a switch from the large weeping willow tree that grew along the river, and made him count while he gave him three whips across his backside. Afterwards, he had told her brother that he must never lay hands upon her, or any other woman for that matter, so long as he shall live, for if Father ever heard tale of him hitting his wife, he would take him back to this very spot and have him chose a much larger whip, no matter what his age may be.

After that, Elias was fiercely protective of his young sister. When the boys in town would tease her for her knobbly knees and freckled nose, Elias would fight them. Once he had even crossed a much, much larger boy and had two of his teeth knocked out in a fist-fight after the boy had knocked her to the ground and stomped upon the herbs her and Alna had been gathering.

Elias had always protected her, but Elias was long gone, and Father miles away. She could protect herself, or do her best, anyway, but she would be no match for any man larger, or stronger than the one she had killed in the forrest. She had Sandor, though, and Sandor would never let any harm become her. Once more she found herself thankful that he was the one she had been given to, and not his brother. Sandor is kind, caring, and gentle with her, despite who his brother was. She would be long dead had The Mountain been available.

"How come your blessed father never accepted a lordship from one of the cunts he goes and carves out stone for?" Sandor asks as he pulls himself back upon the horses back with a grunt and settles back into the saddle with a sigh. "He does good work, surely it's been offered."

"How would you know he does good work?"

"He carved the stags before the doors of the throne room. Besides, I've seen him twice. Carved my mother and sisters likeness."

"You've met my father?"

"No, I've seen your father. I was young when he came to carve out my mothers likeness, and I was a child under foot, asking too many questions where questions shouldn't be asked. Then he was at the keep after my sisters death, and I saw him leaving when I was called from Lannisport to attend her funeral."

"Father doesn't wish to be a Lord. He turned them all down. He only asked for his share of coin, and hospitality as he worked. I can hardly wait to see him."

"Your father will demand our vows be annulled the moment he lays eyes upon me."

"Maybe. But I will ensure that doesn't happen."

"Aye. I'm sure not even your father can tame you, little fox." Sandor chuckles and drinks from the water skin, dribbling red wine down her neck in the process. "When we get to the Free Cities, the first thing I'm buying is the finest silk gown, blue as your eyes, with little violets embroidered on the skirts. Like the ones upon the dress you wore the day we said our vows, except made just for you."

"What if I won't wear it?"

"You've never felt fine silk before. Only old, moth-eaten silk that smelled of rat piss and dust. I'll keep you in silks and laces, with the finest slippers upon your feet."

"I don't want silk, lace, or slippers." Viola mumbles.

Sandor became whimsicle and chatty when drunk around her, always jesting and speaking of wants of highborn ladies he was so accustomed to being around. No matter how many times she told him she was not like them, he resorted to treating her like one of them the moment the wine began affecting his mind, and each day insists that she wear silks and lace, pin her hair up with pearl pins, wear fragrances and carry fans.

"All ladies want silk and lace, and other pretty things."

"Not me."

"What do you want then, wife?"

"I don't know. You, my father, some place that's ours. A place we can grow food and maybe have some chickens. A babe or two under foot."

"We are going to the Free Cities, not the Riverlands. Doubt there's gonna be any room for such. Besides, we'll be living off a Sellswords wages, not much honor in that."

"I thought Sellswords earn good wages? Maybe I can take up work mending, or in a pub."

"Aye, they make plenty coin if one's interested in paying. I won't have my wife taking on work, especially not in a pub. If you want to mend, I have plenty of mending needs done."

"It's hard to mend on horseback, or by moonlight. As soon as we stop for longer than a night, I'll mend your things for you."

"Can do it myself, if need be." Sandor yawns loudly and rubs his eyes with back of his hand. Viola looks up at the sky to find the sun hanging much lower in the sky than she had anticipanted. The days did seem to go by much faster when Sandor actually spoke to her instead of sitting silent and sullen behind her. "How come you can mend but had no interest in needlework?"

"I didn't have a septa to teach me needlework. I'm sure there's much more involved in it than simple mending."

"Could have sent someone to your rooms to teach you how."

"Maybe when we're in the Free Cities we can have someone to teach me. What was your mother's name?"

"Hilde. Why?"

"Just wondering. Did she know needlework?"

"No. She knew dogs and cattle, but not needlework. Made sure my sister was taught, though."

"What was her name?"

"Janine. Tallest girl you'd ever seen, even when she was a little thing. My mother, too. Father was shorter than she was, and he was no small man. Her and Mother each had eyes as grey as a storm cloud, and hair as black as night."

"Like you."

"No, not like me. Their's were different."

"You loved them."

"Aye. I love them."

"And he killed them."

"Aye, little fox. That bastard killed them." Sandor pulls the horse towards a hanging, mountainous rock formation and heaves himself from it's back. "We'll stop here for the night. Only an hours ride or so from Stoney Sept, we'll ride in tomorrow morning and restock our supplies. Stay a night or two at the inn, and get you to your father. Don't want to be caught on the road after nightfall for Stranger to twist his leg."