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11/25/2016 04:43 PM 

To The Twins. {Part Two.}

The air was cool and soothing as she brush against Sansa's cheek, for the first time in such a long time she felt as if she could breath easy now. She was outside of King's Landing's walls and away from Joffrey's reach, for the first time since she left Winterfell she felt safe and it was all thanks to the man she shared this horse with, The Hound or rather Sandor had come to her the night the Blackwater burned green and offered to take her away from her cage. Of course, she was hesitant at first but soon accepted his curious offer she didn't care where he took her, she wanted away from far the lion's den. At first she was afraid they'd be caught and she feared the punishment for such treason, but Sandor whisked her away without so much as drawing an eye to them. Their travels had lasted two days, and one night sleeping on the forest floor. Though she found the forest floor was far more comfortable than her feather mattress back in King's Landing. 

Though she had to admit traveling in such a manner did not appeal to her, they only had one horse thus forcing her to share the saddle with Sandor. It had been uncomfortable at first as his large arms reached out her to grab the reigns,  and she had found her body ridge as she refused to lean back on him. Though now she found it a little less uncomfortable as she sagged against his chest, her eye lids heavy with sleep as Stranger trotted on through the thick green grass. She had to fight the urge to sleep where she sat, she knew Sandor assure her falling asleep on the horse would be safe, but he had also said if she fell off he wasn't stopping to pick her up. 

Suppressing the yawn, her Tully blues hues shifted over towards a sparkling lake. She couldn't help but find it beautiful as the sun shone bright on it, it was much more appealing than the Blackwater had ever been. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice soft. 

"I'm taking you to the Twins." Sandor rasped, his voice harsh as he spoke. 

"The Twins?" Sansa asked surprised, as she glanced up at him the best she could in the position she was in. 

"Because your mother and brother will be there, and they'll pay me for you." Sandor said, though the way she spoke made it sound as if she were a burden. Could he not wait to be rid of her? There was no doubt her mother and brother would pay him handsomely for his trouble, though the question that stood in her mind was why would they be at the Twins of all places? 

"I don't understand, why would they be at the Twins?" 

The ruined side of Sandor's lips twitched at her question, his grey gaze shifting down towards her face as he regarded her for a moment. "The whole buggerin' country side is yapping about it, your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls." he rasped, as he dug his heels into Stranger's flanks to urge him froward through the grass. "So quite your chirping, little bird and we might just make it there in time for the damn wedding." 

His curt response caused Sansa's cheeks to flush as she glance away from him, she hadn't meant to annoy him. She was only curious as to where their destination would be, she had kept quite for two days and merely followed him like the lost little bird she was. Though now that she knew she was to see her mother and brother again she couldn't help but feel a sense of joy warm her chest, it had been so long since she had seen them. Would they look the same? Or perhaps would they look different? She also couldn't help but wonder if Arya would be there with them, she had known she was missing. Though she knew Arya was a strong girl, and she could find her way through the wilderness better than Sansa ever could. As they continued forward Sansa found herself leaning against Sandor's chest as she allowed her eyes to slip shut, a small smile appearing at the corner of her lips at the prospect of home. 

Sandor wasn't annoyed by the little bird, not much anyway. Though her constant chirping and the fear he seen lurking in her eyes rubbed him the wrong way, hadn't he proven himself enough by taking her back to her family she loved so much? He was by no means a good man, and didn't offer to take her away from the sh*t hole known as King's Landing out of the goodness of his bloody heart, he had done it for the money. Though the least she could do was place a little bit of trust in him, the last thing that was on his mind was hurting her. He wasn't his bloody brother. 

As she leaned up against his chest, he felt his body tense under the weight of her. As he glanced down he could see her auburn locks glowing in the sunlight like fire, and he could smell the lavender on her hair despite the fact they had been living in the forest for two days. The sound of her soft and even breathing as she slept set him on edge, having her so close to him was nerve wracking and very uncomfortable, but there wasn't much he could have done. They didn't have time to grab another bloody horse, and so they were forced to share. Thankfully Stranger was a strong horse and had the strength to carry them both on their journey, though he knew the next horse he spotted he wasn't going to hesitate to nab. 

The two traveled for what it felt like hours before they found a road to follow, though despite the fact they were a few few miles away from King's Landing Sandor knew they ought to be careful. The two of them were very recognizable, with her auburn hair and his ruined face there would be people sure to spot them, and no doubt there were bounties on their heads. As they pressed forward Sandor kept his eyes wide as he looked around for any sign of a threat as the little bird slept on, he'd rather her be sleeping than chirping away. 

Eventually the a figure could be seen a ways up the road, from the looks of it Sandor could make out the figure to be an older man and a broken down wagon, on his way to the Twins no doubt. Slowly Sandor pulled Stranger to a halt a few feet away from the older man, and gave Sansa a rough shake to wake her. As soon as Sansa came around, her eyes fell upon the figure as fear ceased her chest, turning towards Sandor with wide eyes. Though the look on his ruined face told her not to make a scene, so she kept her mouth shut as he dismounted Stranger, making her back feel oddly cold. 

As his feet touched the dirt, he reached up tp grab her around her slender waist as she placed her delicate hands upon his broad shoulders as he lifted her from the warhorse as if she weighted no more than a feather. Once her feet hit the ground she felt herself sway, as Sandor roughly placed the reigns in her hands. 

"Remember what I told you, no chirping and keep your hood up." he rasped, as he glared down at her. "I'll do the talking, stay with the horse." he said, as he turned on his heel and made way towards the struggling older man who hardly noticed they were there. 

Sansa watched as she gave her hood a small tug to hide her face, her body shifting closer to Stranger as she gripped onto the reigns nervously. Would this man recognize them? Would he turn them into the Queen? Or worse, would Sandor kill him? If it was the latter, she wasn't quite sure if she could watch even the thought of it made her stomach churn. 

"The roads have gone right to Hell, haven't they?" the older man sighed, though by the look upon his dirt stained face he had taken no notice of either of them. "Cracked three spokes this mornin'." 

"Need a hand?" Sandor rasped as he eyed the broken down cart. 

"Need about eight hands." the older man replied as he scratched the back of his dirty thick neck. 

Though when it came to Sandor's strength, they hadn't needed eight men at all just one would due. Sandor had picked up the cart as if it were no problem at all, Sansa could only watch with her eyes wide. She knew him to be strong, but she really hadn't paid much attention to how strong he really was. In that moment she had realized she was the safest Stark in all of Westeros with Sandor at her side, and she couldn't help but feel confident that they would indeed make it to the Twins in time for the wedding. The very thought of it filled her with glee. 

"Gotta get this salted pork to the Twins in time for the wedding." the old man grunted, as he slid the wheel onto his wagon. It was obvious by the shocked look on his round porkish face he was quite impressed by Sandor's strength. 

Once the wheel was in place Sandor lowered the wagon to the road with a soft thump, as the old man's fat lips curved up into a grateful smile which made his pock marked face even rounder than it had been before. "Many thanks!" 

Though before he could say more, Sandor was quick to punch him right across the face the weight behind the punch sending the old man to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Sansa could only watch wide eyes, as Sandor pulled out a small dagger from his belt. At the sight of the blade shining in the sunlight, she felt her heart pick up in pace as she dropped Stranger's reigns and rushed over to the two of them. Once she reached Sandor she had wrapped her slender arms around his large one, halting his blade as he glared down at her with grey eyes. 

"The hell you think you're doing, little bird?" he snarled, as she stared up at him with wide Tully blue eyes. 

"You can't kill him!" she snapped. 

"Dead rats don't squeak." was all he said. 

"Please, you can't! Don't kill him!" she begged, she couldn't say why she was defending this mind but she knew it was wrong to kill him. "He hadn't recognized us, he won't tell anyone. I'm sure of it!" 

"You don't know for sure, little bird. It was best he were dead, he ain't going to last long in these woods anyhow." he said, as he advanced towards the man's body. Though Sansa placed her delicate hand upon his chest to stay him, as she studied his ruined face for a moment, her pretty pink lips parted as she shook her head. 

"Please, let him live. We will be long gone before he even wakes." she countered, determined to save this stranger's life. 

Sandor paused as he seemed to consider her request, the dagger tight in his grip as his grey eyes shifted from her pretty face and to the old farmer that laid in the mud. Every instinct was telling him to kill the fool and be done with it, it'd be better for them if he were dead. Though the look in the little bird's eyes had pulled him to a stand still as he held his dagger in his grasp, why was he hesitating? There was something in the way that she looked at him and it began to pick at him, and so with an irritated sigh he sheathed his blade and made his way around the wagon, stepping over the old man's body to untie his horse from the wagon. 

"You're very kind, little bird. Some day it will get you killed." he rasped, shaking his head. 

A soft sigh left Sansa's lips as she watched Sandor walk away from him, for a moment he was afraid he'd mock her. Though he didn't not really at least, and she was happy for it. Sansa remained where she stood as he made his way back around the wagon to guide Stranger towards the front of it, carefully tying him to the wagon. Sansa did feel bad they were stealing his things, but it was much better than killing him so she didn't speak on the feelings she had as she continued to watch Sandor work as quickly as he could. Once they were all settled, he turned to face her and as usual his face was unreadable. 

"Get in the back of the wagon, go on!" he rasped, as he motioned towards it. 

Sansa eyed the wagon for a moment though did as she was told, just like the little bird she was. Despite the overwhelming smell of pork, the wagon was much more comfortable to ride in and she hadn't have to worry about falling off the horse should she fall asleep. Though as they made their way down the road, she couldn't help but miss the warmth of Sandor's front pressed up against her back, the memory of it leaving her body with a chill as they carried on. 

11/25/2016 04:26 PM 

I Can Take You With Me. {Part One.}

Sandor Clegane hated fire, for obvious reasons. The water was on fire, the bloody men were on fire, everything in sight was on fire. Sandor had gone into this fools battle with a clear head, but the moment the Blackwater became consumed with green vicious fire, cackling and roaring with anger, and the scream of the doomed men fell on his ears, he had lost himself completely. No amount of wine could urge him forward, he would be daft to run into that bloody mess. He had lost all of his men to that buggering fire, and he wasn't going to stay long enough to be burned again, just the smell of the burning flesh within the air was making his stomach churn with on unwelcome memories. So, he turned on his heel and ran away from the fire, cutting down any fool who dare got in his way, it was the only thing he could think of doing, he needed to get away. 

Once he got his hands on some good Dornish wine, and distanced himself from the raging Wild Fire, he could hear the imp calling for him, taunting him.

 "Could I get your some ice milk? And a nice bowl of rasberries too?" the imp asked sarcastically, causing Sandor's ruined lips to twitch in irritation. The imp thought him craven. He wasn't craven, he was smart. Only an idiot would go out there to fight in that burning mess. 

"Eat sh*t, dwarf." he rasped, taking a long swig of his wine. 

"Dog! I command you to go back out there and fight!" his king demanded, the little prick's skinny body shaking underneath all that fancy armor. 

"You're kingsguard, Clegane. We must beat them back or they're going to take this city! Your king's city!" the imp urged, though it hardly phased Sandor. He was done. He was done with it all. They could think him craven or not, he didn't care anymore. The king can die just fine on his own, he didn't need him there holding his hand the whole bloody way. And so, he left. He was his own dog now. 

The battle of Blackwater caused Sandor to realize something, he didn't give a sh*t about anything or anyone. He didn't kill for the king, he killed because he liked too, because he needed too. For Sandor, killing was the sweetest thing there was, he killed for himself and no one else. Not the Kingsguard, not the king, not the city. Sandor was a dog, but he was loyal to no one and no one could put him on a leash. As he drank his wine he wandered about the castle, looking for saftey from the flames, or anything close to saftey. He walked for what it seemed like hours to him until he came across a familiar looking door. Sandor then angrily kicked the door open and walked inside the room, it belonged to the little bird. He waited for hours until the little bird came flying back to her golden cage, though he did not reach out to her right away. He merely watched her in the darkness, her womanly frame illuminated by the green fire which was still burning on the Blackwater.

It only took a few moments for her to notice him, she was a clever little bird. He probably looked like a down right mess, covered in blood and drunk off his arse. He advanced on her, placing his large calloused hand over her pretty little mouth. 

"If you scream, I'll kill you." he rasped in a low dangerous tone, he could feel the little bird tremble beneath his touch. He then slowly removed his hand from her person and staggered backwards, tossing his empty flagon aside. "I'm going." he rasped.

 "Where?" she asked, her voice trembling. 

"North. Might be, could be. Anywhere away from the flames." he said bitterly, feeling his large frame swaying.

 "Why...why did you come here?" the little bird chirped in a small voice. 

"You promised me a song little bird, a song about knights and fair maidens. Have you forgotten?" he rasped, as he peered down at her with his intense grey eyes. 

"I can't." she said in a hushed tone, and before he could even think on in, he reached out and grabbed her roughly. 

"Let go! You're scaring me!" she gasped, but her struggle was no good. She was far too small and frail to fight him off. 

"You're scared of everything. Look at me. Look at me!" he growled, pulling her closer to him. 

"I could keep you safe little bird. They're all afraid of me, no one would hurt you again...or I'd kill them." he rasped, he didn't know why he presented her with this offer, but he did. He would take her away just like a gallant knight from her idiotic songs, she would like that, wouldn't she? Though by the look upon her pretty little face, he could tell he still disgusted her. Stupid little bird. "Still can't bare to look at me?" he rasped in distaste, of course she couldn't look at him. He didn't have a pretty face, he was no Knight of Flowers. He then gave her arm a hard wrench , pulling her around and shoving her onto the bed. He then whipped out his dagger and pressed it to her pretty pale throat, the little bird should be afraid of him. He was a killer. "I'll have that song from you, Florian and Jonquil, you said." he rasped, pressing the cold steel against her throat. Though no sound came to her, much to his annoyance so he pressed the dagger harder to her throat. "Go on, sing. Sing for your life, little bird." he growled. He was going to take that song before he left, it didn't matter how he did it. 

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, 
save our sons from war, we pray, 
stay the swords and stay the arrows, 
let them know a better day. 

Gentle Mother, strength of women, 
help our daughters through this fray,
sooth the wrath and tame the fury, 
teach us all a kinder way. 

Sandor allowed her pretty little voice to wash over him, her voice was just as sweet as he thought it would be. He then slowly removed the blade from her throat, his eyes softening as he stared upon the red haired beauty under him, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that was certain. Though as he listened to her sweet song, he felt tears in his eyes. It was the very same song his sister would sing to him as a pup, it brought back so many memories he had wished to forget. Gregor had taken her from him, he had taken the only person in his life who had ever mattered to him. His sister was the only one who didn't treat him differently, at a young age she filled his heart and head with foolish little songs and stories. She sat at his bedside when Gregor pushed his face into the burning coals. She was always there, until Gregor split her in half with his great sword, all because he didn't want his little brother to have anyone. He wanted his little brother to be alone. 

Sandor was then taken out of his grim thoughts when he felt the little bird press her hand to cup his right cheek, which shocked him. He wasn't expecting such a tender gesture, not after the fright he had given her. Then before he could even realize what he was doing, the tears in his eyes began to fall down his cheeks. The Hound never cried. Until now. He leaned into her touch, as the tears continued to flow freely. "Little bird," he rasped, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. He then pushed himself from the bed, without casting a glance her way. 

He reached up to his shoulders and ripped the white, blood soaked, and charred cloak from his person and allowed it to fall to the floor. Though before he reached the door, the little bird sat up straight in her bed, her pretty pink lips parted and her eyes wide and alert. 

"Take me with you." she said, her voice breathless. 

He then slowly reached out and grabbed her arm, with unusual gentleness. "Keep your pretty head down, and don't talk unless I tell you." he said in a rough tone. He then reached around her and plucked a dark cloak that was draped over a near by chair. He then handed it to her. "Put this on, keep your hood up. We're leaving."

And so The Hound stole the pretty chirping bird from her cage as the battle raged on. 

11/23/2016 12:20 PM 

"Life Is Not A Song."

The Clegane Keep had not always been so grim and desolate, for a time it had once been considered agreeable and somewhat hospitable. Though the feeling of welcome had come with the lady of house Clegane, Lady Wren Clegane. Lady Wren had a firm hand but a gentle heart, as did her oldest daughter Sable Clegane. Alas not all her children had been born with a gentle heart, her first born son Gregor Clegane had somewhat of a nasty temper. His blood would boil to the point of destruction and the boy would not let anything stand in his path. When he was but a mere child Wren and her husband Ser Aldred were able to sooth him, though the older and larger he grew the more difficult it became to sate his temper and thirst for destruction. 

By the time Wren's second son was born, the light in Clegane's Keep began to fade along with her. During the difficult birth her daughter sat by her side, as did her husband for a time. Though the moment he realized she would not succumb from this birth, he stormed out and refused to look upon the child that was set on ending her on his way into the world. Wren had not even gotten the chance to hold her son, her light had snuffed out while his sister clean the blood from his pink face. 


Had been Wren's last words, and that is what the boy had been named: Sandor Clegane. Sable had remained at her mother's side, holding the small babe to her breast as she looked down at him with wide grey eyes. She found she could not any ill will towards the sweet child, what had happened was no fault of his. He was an innocent, but she knew her father and brother would think different, it would be up to her to keep the boy safe. 

Later that evening Aldred had found them huddled up by the fire, Sable had been humming a soft tune to the sleeping babe as she rocked him gently in her arms. It was obvious by the way in his step, Aldred was quite drunk. Sable glanced up at her father, her thin lips pulled into a frown as she held her baby brother close. 

"What are you doing, girl?" he slurred,as he staggered over towards her. 

"Lower your voice, Sandor is sleeping." she said, her tone cold as she turned her attention back towards the babe sleeping happily in her arms. 

"Who in the Seven Hells is that?" he slurred, his lips curling up into a sneer. 

"Your son." 

Aldred's intense grey orbs shifted over towards the bundle in his daughter's arms, and he felt the rage fill up his chest. He looked just like her, his Wren. While in most this would bring about a certain fondness, but in Aldred it brought about distaste and hate. "He's no son of mine." he slurred, waving his hand in a angry motion. "He's a runt, feed him to the bloody hounds. I'm sure they'd be happy for the scrap of meat." 

Appalled by her father's suggestion Sable stood to her feet as she held her brother close, her grey eyes full or rage as she stared up at her father. She was a very headstrong woman, the type to stand her ground despite her small size. "You will do no such thing." she said, her voice stern. "If you will not have him, then I will. You do not have to look upon him, if it please you. Sandor is my responsibility." she said, her voice full of promise as she looked down at her sleeping brother, how could anyone hate someone so pure and sweet? 

From that moment on Sandor became like a son to her, she was there when he began to crawl, when he had taken his first clumsy steps, when he had said his first word. She never once went back on  her promise to protect him, Sandor was her world. He had even taken to calling her "mother" for a time, though Sable was quick to correct him knowing that her father and brother would have none of that. Sable was happy with Sandor, just as he was happy with her. She did her best to keep Sandor out of their father and brother's way, teaching him how to be kind, brave and understanding. She didn't want him to turn out like their father and brother, and she knew her mother wouldn't want that either. 

On the morning of Sandor's seventh name-day, he and Sable had been sitting on the floor as she ran her fingers through his long messy dark hair. His hair always seemed to find itself in tangles, though Sable didn't mind weaving the out,  nor did Sandor. He always liked to claim she had a gentle touch, she never hurt him when she gently tugged the tangles away. With Sable at his side, life had been bearable. Sandor had lived his life learning to fear his father and older brother, but he knew Sable would always be there to protect him and when she was near he had no reason to fear. She was like a savior of sorts, keeping away the bad and darkness from his life. 

"So, what would you like to do special today, little man?" Sable asked gently, as she stroked his hair gently. 

Sandor paused as he thought over  her words, today was his name day and as Sable claimed he could do whatever he liked, he had no responsibilities for the day. "Eat lemon cakes?" he said, though it came off more like a question which made Sable smile. 

"Of course, I'll have cook whip you up a special batch." she grinned, as she pulled him onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him snugly. 

"Might be, I'd like to play with my wooden sword." he said softly, as he rested his head against her shoulder. 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, perhaps you'd like to take the hounds along with you?" Sable suggested, as Sandor nodded his head in agreement. 

Sandor had then spent that day filled with joy and the thought of fear out of his mind. He had ran through the yellow fields, swinging his wooden sword with the hounds at his heels. He often liked to pretend he was a knight, just like the one in the songs his sister liked to sing to him before bed, he hoped that one day he'd actually become a knight. He thought the life of a knight would be a fulfilling one, he'd defend the weak and save fair maidens from those who were wicked just like his brother. 

Sandor didn't know his older brother well, but he was not oblivious to his temper. Sandor had witnessed it on many occasions, Gregor had always left a trail of destruction in his path the moment his anger reached his limit, which did not take too long to reach. The servants were afraid of him, as were the hounds. Gregor had never given Sandor a passing look, each time he merely walked by him as if he didn't even exist. Though this was something Sandor didn't mind, he was glad Gregor never stopped to see him. He was afraid if he seen him, something horrid would happen, he didn't know what but he felt it deep within his bones. 

As the blue sky began to turn red and orange, much like autumn leaves, Sandor made his way back to the keep in search of his sister. It did not take long to find her, all he had to do was follow the smell of Lemon cakes. A small smile appeared upon his lips as he watched her from the door way, his grey eyes wide with delight as he allowed the wonderful scent to wash over his sense. When Sable had taken notice of him, she smiled sweetly. 

"Your supper is almost finished, why don't you stand by the brazier to warm yourself. It's quite chilly outside, and I would hate for you to get a cold." she said gently. "I'll fetch you once it's ready." 

Sandor nodded his head as he turned on his heel and made his way towards the brazier that stood outside, the closer he got to it the warmer he became. He hadn't realized how cold he had been until he felt the heat kiss his flesh, as he stood his grey eyes began to wander and that is when his gaze landed on his brother's little wooden knight. It had been sitting on a tree stump, standing proud. Sandor tilted his head to the side as he studied the find crafted wood, it even had strings attached to it so one could pull at his limbs and make it seem as if he were fighting. 

Slowly he glanced around, just to be sure he was standing alone, and when he did not detect movement he shifted closer towards the stump and picked up the little wooden knight. He held it up high as he studied it in awe, it was much better than the knight he was given. Carefully he pulled at the strings, causing the knight's sword to jump in the air ready to defend. Sandor laughed gleefully as he gave the string a tug once more, he was sure Gregor wouldn't even notice, he never seemed to notice much of anything, besides he was far too old for toys. 

Sandor then sat himself on the dirt floor as he continued to pull at the strings, making the little knight fight a dragon that was not there. Though little did poor Sandor know, he was not alone. Gregor had been on his way inside the keep when he had heard his little brother's gleeful laughs, and when his grey eyes fell on the knight that rested within his grubby hands that dangerous anger began to boil under his skin as he made his way towards the boy, his foot steps heavy on the ground and his face twisted into one of pure abhor. 

As Gregor round up behind his brother he watched as Sandor innocently fiddled with the wooden knight, oblivious to the pending danger that stood behind him. Then with lightening reflexes Gregor reached out and picked up his little brother by the collar of his tunic, causing him to gasp he dropped the wooden knight to the dirt. Gregor then gave him a toss in the air, as he grabbed him from around the middle and tucked him under his large arm as if he were naught by a log for the fire. 

Sandor gasped and pushed at his brother's strong arm, but Gregor didn't even seem to notice. "L-let me down!" Sandor begged, as he continued to claw at his brother's flesh. Sandor had clawed Gregor's arm raw, leaving angry bleeding claw marks, while under Sandor's fingernails were caked with blood from the struggle. His grey eyes then grew wide as he notice his brother's approach to the brazier, and in that moment he felt his stomach drop. 

"G-Gregor, please! Let me down, please!" he sobbed, as he continued to claw at him. 

Then in ominous silence Gregor dropped Sandor to the ground, allowing him to land flat on his stomach near the brazier with a gasp as his breath was knocked out of his small body. Then without given Sandor a moment to breath, Gregor grabbed his little brother by the scruff of his neck, and pressed the right side of his face to the burning coals. As the flames consumed his flesh, Sandor began to scream, an awful bloodcurdling scream as his flesh began to blacken, blister and crack. 

The pain was unimaginable, the smell was worst. In that moment Sandor was sure he was going to die as the flames began to eat him alive. It had taken four men to pull Gregor off of him, though Sandor did not remeber much of it. His world was consumed by blackness as he fainted from the pain, and the milk of the poppy the maester had given him and kept him out much longer. Sandor was in a state where he didn't know much at what was going on, but he could still hear the voices around him, and at times feel the throb and sting of pain in his face. Sandor felt the peeling of bandages sticking to his angry blood flesh that oozed and blistered, he felt the prodding of tools to his skin, it was torture even though he couldn't express it physically. 

"The corruption has spread, I fear it must be cut away."  the soft voice of the maester claimed. 

"What can be done?" Sable sobbed. 

"I can take away the rotting flesh,and try to burn out the corruption with boiling wine." said the maester. "But I do suggest you hold him down, there will be quite a bit of pain." 

Sandor had screamed louder the second time, the scent of burning flesh still lingering in his nose. Though it was over before Sandor could blink, his weary mind dead and exhausted from the trauma he felt. Sandor didn't know how long he had been bedridden, and he found he didn't really care. All he wanted was for the pain to go away, but it still continued to linger. When Sandor finally woke, Sable was the first person he had seen. Her eyes were red from crying, and her cheeks stained with tears. 

"...Sable." he croaked, his throat dry from lack of water. 

"Sandor!" she gasped, as she stood and rushed over to his bedside. Slowly Sandor attempted to sit up, but winced at the horrid pain and fell back into his bed. "You must not push yourself, you're not well." she said sternly, as she took a seat besides him. She then picked up a flagon of water and brought it to his ruined lips, even the water hurt as it passed his lips. 

" hurts." he whimpered, and Sable frowned as she brushed back a strand of his hair on his good side. "I know, little man. Just rest, and you shall be well." she said gently, as she offered him a weak smile. 

"Will you," he trailed off as he opened his eyes to look at her once more. "will you sing to me?" 

With another smile she nodded her head as she reached out to take his hand gently in hers, stroking the back of it with her thumb as she began to sing: 

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day.
Gentle Mother, strength of women,
Help our daughters through this fray.
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder way.
Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day.

And it was his sister's sweet voice that lulled him to sleep that night, and all the nights to come. 

Sable had been at Sandor's side each and every day, she refused to leave him alone. She had slept beside him in case he needed her in the night, and even took her supper in his small chambers. No one could rip her from her sweet little brother's side, she would not allow it. She had even began to dress his wounds when the maester could not, at times Gregor would sent the maester away just to make things worse for their little brother, and who was the maester to no to Gregor? 

When people had asked after Sandor, it was their father who jumped to Gregor's defense and claimed it was merely an unfortunate accident, Aldred claimed Sandor's bedding caught fire in the night. Hearing those lies set Sable's blood aflame, how dare her father stick up for that monster! Of course, someone with a fiery will as Sable did not allow the lies to spread, she spoke the truth of it and pointed the finger of blame towards Gregor and rumors began to spread. She wasn't surprised they had reached her brother and father as quickly as they had, she was glad it had. 

Then one sunny afternoon Sable had went out to the stables to feed the hounds, due to the simple fact most of the servants had fled the keep once the truth came about. The hounds were happy to see her, and happily accepted the table scraps from the night before with wagging tails. With a sigh Sable leaned up against the wall of the kennel, her thoughts wavering to Sandor, her poor little brother. The maester had said claimed it would leave a nasty scar, and as she thought of the scar it would leave him her hate for Gregor became stronger. 

Slowly she reached out scratch one of the hounds behind the ear, though before she could even touch the creature it began to whimper and back away from her. Sable felt a cold chill rush down her spine, as she turned to face her brother. He was only twelve years old, but he was much taller and larger than she'd ever be, but she was not afraid. The silence fell between the two of them as they they regarded one another with grey eyes. 

Gregor was the first one to advance on her, causing her to stumble back a step as she looked up at him with wide grey eyes. "Gregor, stay away from me." she said sternly, as she held up a hand that was meant to stop him. 

Though Gregor kept coming, and the moment he reached her he grabbed her by the head, both large rough hands on either side of her face. Her hands reached up on instinct as she gripped at his wrists, pulling at them with all her might but he was far stronger than she would ever be. Gregor then squeezed, and she screamed as the pressure began to build in her skull, her eyes almost popping from her sockets. The scream was enough to send the dogs running from the kennels, and then with one swift movement he screams were put to a silence as the crack of her neck echoed throughout the kennel, and her frail body dropped to the dirt, her wide grey eyes glazed over and staring into nothingness. 

When Sandor awoke next, he was alone and Sable was no where to be seen. He had remained up for hours, despite the pain in his head as he waited for her to come. It was the maester who came this time to change his bandages, and that is when he heard the news. 

"Where is Sable?" he whispered, the left side of his face throbbing with pain. 

"I am so very sorry to be the one to tell you," he said as his pale lips fell into a frown. "your sister is dead. She had tripped in the kennels and broke her neck, I suspect one of the hounds knocked her over. Gregor was the one to find her." 

At the old man's words Sandor felt his face fall as he allowed the horrible news to soak in, his sister was dead. He would never see her again, never hear her voice again, she will never sing him songs or tell him stories. And Gregor had found her, that couldn't be right. It had to be Gregor that caused this, that was the only connection Sandor's mind could come to. This was Gregor's fault. And as he sat alone in the darkness that dreary night he realized it had all been a lie: The songs and the stories. Life was not a song, good things did not happen to good people. 

Four years later Gregor had been knighted by the dragon prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. Not only was life not like the songs, but the knights were not good people either. For as long as Sandor could remember he had wanted to be a knight, but now he spit at the word. Honor and glory were all lies to make idiot boys want knighthood and idiot girls to spread their legs for them. Shortly after Roberth I Baratheon came to the throne, their father had died in a hunting acident, which was also implied to be suspicious, leaving the family estates to Gregor. There had been rumors that Gregor had killed their father, their sister and his first two wives, Sandor had believed them be to be true. That is what Gregor did, he killed without thinking. 

Clegane Keep had become a grim place where servants vanish unaccountably and even the hounds are afraid to enter the bloody hall. Sandor hated his home, there was nothing there for him. As he grew older he became bitter and hateful of everyone and everything, especially his brother. Sandor hadn't grown into a handsome man either, he never expected to be considered as handsome with his ride side a burned ruin with a stump of an ear, slick black flesh pocked with deep craters and cracks that ooze red and wet. The scars had extended down to his bloody throat and left his jawbone exposed, he was lucky his right eye had been unaffected. This and his large height and build made him feared, and Sandor would much rather be feared than loved. 

Sandor had taken on life alone, and he wanted to continue it that way. 

In the world of songs and beauty, there was nothing. They were only lies to keep one satisfied with their dull life, to keep them oblivious from all the truth. To Sandor life was made up of the strong and the awful honest truth. There were no Gods, no true knights or fair maidens. If you couldn't protect yourself, then die and get out of the way of those who can. It was sharp steel and strong arms that ruled the world. 

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