[The Wall]
Sandor groaned as he stirred awake, his body aching and stiff. A sharp chill bit at his skin, and he shivered violently. He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts. At first, everything was a blur. There was nothing but darkness and cold. His eyes took time to adjust to the darkness of the place.
"Where in the seven hells am I?" He tried to move around, but his body was too cold to move. He knew that the Wall was supposed to be cold, but this was freezing. If he didn't do anything, then he'd freeze to death.
Slowly, his memories returned. He had brought the Stark boy to the Wall, planning to dump him there and leave. He had no interest in staying, only in finding the Imp. But when he arrived, he found that Tyrion Lannister had already left for Casterly Rock.
Before he could even decide his next move, the black-cloaked bastards of the Night's Watch had seized him. They hadn't even let him speak. The first blow had come fast, and then darkness swallowed him.
And now he was here.
His breath came out in white puffs as he looked around. The cellar was dark and damp, the stone walls covered in frost.
"Damn those Starks..."
"And damn the Night's Watch." He wrapped his arms around himself, cursing under his breath. If they planned to leave him here, he'd freeze to death before sunrise.
"Oi!" he called out, his voice rough. "Anyone there?"
Silence.
He shouted again, but nothing. No response. Apparently, he was alone in the cellar. Meaning he can't even explain his side of the story.
He gritted his teeth. "FUCK... GET ME OUT OF HERE..." Maybe due to cold or hunger he became even more agitated and shouted aloud. Maybe someone would hear him.
He was right, someone did hear him. Just not someone he would wish to meet.
"Grooooo." A low, guttural growl echoed through the darkness.
Sandor stiffened. His blood turned to ice.
He knew that was no man, or animal he knew of. His heart started to beat faster just hearing that growl.
He slowly turned his head, scanning in the shadows, but the darkness obstructed his view. The growl didn't appear again, but he didn't dare let out a quiet whistle, let alone call for help.
"Seven..."
Seeing no way out, he could only wait. He might or might not freeze to death, but practically calling whatever made that horrible sound would definitely call the Stranger.
So he stayed there, doing nothing, waiting for someone to come to him naturally. But the cold was eating at him, numbing his limbs, making his mind sluggish. His vision blurred at the edges. He was close to passing out.
Then, he heard it.
A faint caw.
His eyes snapped open. At first, he thought he was imagining things. His mind was playing tricks on him, trying to give him hope where there was none. But then he heard it again—clear, sharp, real.
A crow.
Sandor forced himself to focus, searching the dark corners of the cellar. The dim torchlight barely illuminated anything, but he scanned the shadows carefully.
There—
It took a moment, but he finally spotted it. A raven, perched high on an old wooden beam. Finding it in the darkness had been as hard as spotting clean land in King's Landing, but he had done it.
"That..." But the real reason he was able to spot it was because of what was in its mouth.
The raven held something in its beak. A key. Seven please the key wasn't dark or he would never have spotted the bird.
Sandor stared, unable to believe his own eyes. The bird flapped its wings, then dropped the key onto the cold stone floor near his cell door.
He hesitated. This was surreal, a raven helping him escape. For a second he started to question his rational thinking until he cursed himself and stumbled forward, grabbing the key with frozen fingers. He jammed the key into the lock and turned it.
Click.
The door creaked open.
For a moment, Sandor just stood there, stunned. 'It really opened?' He turned back to the raven, and that's when he saw it.
A third eye, staring straight at him.
A shiver crawled up his spine. Bran. The boy had spoken of this. The three-eyed raven. Now he wondered, maybe staying in the cellar was safer.
The bird let out another sharp cry, snapping Sandor out of his thoughts. It flapped its wings and pointed with its beak toward the farthest, darkest corner of the cellar.
Sandor's gut twisted. That's where the growl came from. He just kept on staring at the darkness until the raven flew off toward where he was looking, only to land down and glare at him again. Calling for him again.
Oh, he knew what it wanted. Following him? But why? Does this raven is a demon trying to lure him to his nest? Hound never believed in things like this, but he had to when a raven was helping him break out of prison.
Sandor clenched his jaw. His instincts screamed at him to run, but something else—something deep inside him—made him take a step toward the shadows.
Ever since that boy has talked to him, this has been in his mind. He didn't believe in those things, but after fighting with that Hammer bastard, he had to say that his perspective was changing.
That day he first-hand realized power which mortal flesh can't fight against. Then there was that Champion of the Storm God thing that boy told him. How could a book possibly written a century ago have the same hammer drawn on it that almost killed him?
He had to know. And so, Sandor, with steady breath, took a step towards the darkness.
---
King Robert Baratheon was dead. An inevitable outcome seeing how he used to fuck and drink, but to everyone's amazement, that wasn't the cause why he's gone.
The news spread through the Red Keep like wildfire, and the castle was already shifting. From fake tears to genuine laughter, all in hush silence.
However, the news of the king's death wasn't as big of a deal as what happened after that.
Who's gonna be the next King? Robert Baratheon's heir hasn't come of age yet. Robert's will had yet to be read and lay with Ned Stark.
As for Ned Stark, as soon as he left the king's chamber after seeing his brother all but in blood die, Renly Baratheon caught up to him.
"We must strike tonight, Lord Stark," Renly said without preamble.
"Strike? At whom?"
"Joffrey. We should take Joffrey under our custody. We have to take action now before the queen acts."
Ned frowned. "There won't be any strike or blood in this castle, Renly. Tomorrow I'll read Robert's will and whatever he said will happen."
"And let Joffrey rule the Seven Kingdoms? Ned, even you should know what kind of..." Renly was saying, but Ned stopped him midway.
"I will not dishonor Robert's final wishes by shedding blood in his halls."
Renly let out a frustrated breath. "You are too honorable, Lord Stark. Honor won't save you when Cersei makes her move."
"I will do what is right," Ned said firmly.
Renly studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Do as you wish." Without another word, he turned and left.
Ned exhaled slowly. He knew what was coming. Cersei would not sit idle. The city would soon turn into a battlefield.
He could not risk his daughters getting caught in it.
Sansa and Arya can't stay here anymore.
xxx
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