"Will they have those little brown figs that I like in the Free Cities?" Viola asks as Sandor pulls her close against his chest as they lie beneath a large willow tree near the rock formation that hid Stranger from sight of the road.
"Where do you think figs come from?" Sandor responds with a groan, his voice thick with drink and sleep.
"I don't know. What about quail? Will they have quail in—"
"If you do not stop talking and go to sleep I will carve out you tongue." Sandor booms in her ear before silencing her protests by pressing his lips against her own.
He tastes of stale wine and the salt pork he had eaten as she made up their bedroll. The mail he still wore digs into her chin as she lowers her head and rests her chin upon his shoulder. Sandor belches loudly, then follows it with a deep yawn before rubbing his eyes and tucking his cheek against the top of her head. Before long, his breathing becomes deeper, and his arms go limp around her, weighing her down with their dead weight. He slept much easier when drunk, but Viola really doubt it was a good idea for him to spend every day so drunk he was stumbling about their camp each night.
The last thing Viola remembered before being woken by Sandor's bellows, and the voices of men shouting commands, was how beautiful the moon had been as it reflected off of the rocks that surround them. If they could have lit a fire, they would not had needed one on this night. The moon had been massive in the clear night sky, seeming as though one could reach out and pluck it from the sky and roll it around in their hands.
Viola rises, her eyes and heads both swimming with sleep and confusion. As she whirls around and presses her back to the stone they had been sleeping against, Viola finds Sandor doubled over, his wrists behind his back, with thick hempen rope pinning his arms to his sides. A fat bald man wearing sun faded armor stands to his side with his sword drawn.
"Sandor!" Viola shouts as the sound of barking dogs and hoofs pounding against dirt drown out the sound of her cry.
By the time she can get to her feet, half a dozen men on horseback, great black dogs, shaggy grey and white dogs, dogs so matted and filthy with dried blood and mud she couldn't tell the color of them, dozens of the loud, barking bastards all began circling them. Man, horse, and dog alike all howl and shout as though trying to be louder than the other to have their voice be heard. She makes for the knife Sandor kept beneath the bedroll, only to find it gone. Her heart begins to pound in her ears, and a quick glance at Sandor finds the knife she had been in search of discarded at his feet in the dirt. His sword belt and scabbard lies cracked and discarded several feet from her, the sword in his captors hand.
"I was looking for the Kingslayer, but I suppose a Lannister mutt will do." The man holding Sandor captive shouts over the commotion, causing and immediate silence to man and animal alike. "Men, get his bitch."
"Don't you lay a fucking hand on her you cunts!" Sandor bellows as the men begin to dismount from horseback and close in around them. The bald man punches Sandor in the stomach and he vomits red wine all down the front of his mail.
Half of the men break off to snicker at Sandor and help to hold him back from two of the men fast approaching her. She presses herself closer to the tree, darting her eyes in every direction in hopes of being able to slip through their legs, but it is too late. Two sets of hands close in on her, and she begins to thrash in their grips. One of the men removes a thick strand of hemp rope from his belt and begins to wrap her arms with it, in the same manner Sandor was wrapped. She tries to twist in their grips, but it does nothing but make the binds that tie her tighter around her chest and arms. Viola begins to whimper, her fear getting the better of her, tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes as her entire body sets to shaking.
The man binding her arms to her body reaches a hand towards her face, and Viola dips her head down in one swift motion and bites him hard in the flesh between thumb and forefinger. His blood she had drawn causes her mouth the salivate and her stomach to churn. He howls in pain and curses loudly, causing each head to snap towards them. He brings his hand back, ready to strike her in the face.
"Strike her and you will loose that hand!" Sandors voice booms above the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, the dogs begin to bark once more, closing in on him and snapping at his legs as the man who had taken him shouts at them to back off and shut up.
"Bitch fucking bit me!"
"Aye and she'll do worse than that if you lay a fucking hand on her!"
"Bring the girl." The fat bald man, no doubt the leader of this band, commands. "We'll bring them back to the sept and deal with them there."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little girl?" Sandor howls with laughter, doubling over once more. He straightens and wipes his eye with his shoulder, a large smile plastered upon his face. "A big man like you, frightened of a little bitty girl?"
The man whom had tied her up charges at Sandor, his bit hand clutched to his chest. The men surrounding Sandor push him back, and the leader of the crew points at Viola and hardens his eye. The man whom she had bit turns slowly, glares at Viola a moment, then stalks back towards her. He pushes her roughly in the small of her back, telling her silently to walk. Viola locks her knees and refuses to budge. He pushes her once more, and Viola sets her face in stone and glares up at the man she now sees has yellow hair and a brown, splotchy beard. His eyes are furious.
"Enough of this shite." The second man, one with fiery red hair, shouts as he lifts Viola with one hand and throws her across his shoulder.
Viola kicks and bucks, desperate to get out of his clutches. Just as she opens her mouth, ready to bite the man on his back, she is slung roughly over the back of a horse as though she were a dead stag, and the man climbs on behind her. She swivels her head around, desperate to locate Sandor, and spots his feet shuffling just behind the horse she rides.
They ride in silence for what feels like an eternity, Viola trembling with fear, her eyes locked on Sandor's shuffling feet. It takes everything she had in her to keep from dropping her body from the horses back and allowing it, and everyone behind her to trample her to death. It would likely be kinder, and far more merciful than whatever these men have in store for her.
But Sandor is here.
Sandor will protect her.
"Open the bloody gate" One of the men in the front of the party calls.
Viola listens to the shuffling of feet and chatter of people beyond the wall. The gate creeks loudly, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. They are moving again, but much slower. Sandors feet stumble on a rock and he tips forward slightly, only to be met with laughter. As they enter through the gate. The sound of something heavy and wet slopping onto the ground causes her to gag. The smell is worse than the sound, and what follows is even worse than that. She can hear the dogs fighting and barking, and tearing apart meat. The ripping of flesh is unmistakable. Viola gags as the smell of whatever they are fighting over becomes increasingly worse.
"Here's your new castle you bloody Lannister bastard!" A man calls.
"A bit small for the likes of you, but we'll squeeze you in, don't you fret!" Cries another.
"You'll rot in them cages." Someone shouts as Viola watches Sandor stumble as though pushed. Heaps of something hard and wet begin to rain upon her back, and Sandor shuffles past her. "The crows will be picking your eyes out while we spend all that good Lannister gold of yours! And when them crows are done with you, we'll send what's left of you to your bloody brother. Though I doubt he'll know you."
Viola is drug from the horse back and thrown over someone's shoulder. She rises her head just in time to watch Sandor be struck in the side of the face by a thrown stone, causing his head to jerk violently to the side. She flinches, a tear rolling down her cheek as her husband doesn't so much as flinch.
"Sandor!" Viola cries, though his eyes never leave the ground to meet hers.
The man who had hoisted Viola from the horse fiddles with the latch of something, slings open a grate with a loud bang, and attempts to shove Viola through. She squares her shoulders, making them too wide to fit through the small hole, and kicks our harshly as her back is pressed against cool, thin metal. Dung, she can now tell, rains down on her, and one quick glance over at Sandor finds him in the same state, though his face is beginning to swell and redden on the side that had caught the stone thrown at him.
A commotion through the yard and the barking of dogs causes the man to drop her roughly to the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. Men begin shouting, and Viola curls herself in a ball and presses her back against the outside of the cage she was just about to be shoved through.
A large, brawny man with a big brown beard, wearing a yellow cloak comes barreling through the courtyard, followed closely by a tall, willowy man with a long beard that's been previously dyed green. Behind them is a small, fox like man carrying a woodharp, and a large-breasted redhead with an apron full of something or other.
The fat man whom had taken Sandor for hostage begins shouting at the others, their voices all jumbling together above the roar of the barking dogs. Viola an only make out one or two words being bellowed by the fat man, mostly referencing Lannister's and lickspittles, before finally throwing his hands up and stomping into a brothel from where the four strangers had just emerged, followed closely by the men who had taken them here.
The man with the brown beard and yellow cloak turns his back to them, walks towards a wagon, then staggers towards Sandor, who was sitting sullen and defeated, his eyes downcast upon a stone wall. When the man turns to get the attention of the green bearded one, Viola spots a length of worn rope and a burlap sack in his hands.
Time moves slowly as Sandor lowers his head and allows the bearded man to slip a noose around his neck.
"No!" Viola bellows loud enough to tear her throat.
She pulls herself to her feet and launches herself towards her husband, slipping and stumbling in loose rock and dung, her hands tied behind her back. The green bearded man throws his woodharp to the ground in an attempt to rush her, but is too slow. She throws herself before Sandor, knocking the bearded man with her shoulder in the process. He reaches over her head as though she weren't there, and slips the burlap sack over Sandors head. Viola ducks her head and dives into the man's chest, using every bit of her strength to attempt to push him back, her feet loosing traction beneath her as the man does not budge.
"You kill him, you'll have to kill me!" Viola bellows, spittle spewing from her mouth. "You fucking kill me, too!"
"Who the fuck is this?" Green beard sings as he picks up his discarded harp.
"His wife!" Viola spits as she stands tall and glares at the man who had just strung a noose around her husbands neck. "You kill him, you'd better fucking kill me before I kill you."
The bearded man chuckles and pushes her roughly onto the stone wall that Sandor sat upon. His arm against hers, even bound they felt strong enough to protect her. He does not tremor or cower, he sits straight and proud while blinded by darkness. The bearded man chuckles, then reaches a hand out to accept a second burlap sack from green beard. He places it carefully over her head, her eyes boring into his as he slowly lowers it over her glaring eyes.
Viola trembles in the semi-darkness, and Sandor leans against her, calming her slightly with his strength. Someone is kind enough to loosen the binds around her chest holding her arms at her sides, though they do not remove them entirely, they do move her hands from behind her back to her front, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Beside her, she can feel they did not give her husband the same courtesy.
They will get out of this alive.
They have to come out of this alive.
Sandor will get this out of this, he has to, he swore to see her to Father.