Selfish // Sandor Clegane

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈𝐈

꧁✯꧂

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 stuck with my sisters in the same tent, having a room alone in the Hand's Tower was luxury.

King's Landing was warm, too warm for my likings, that's why I enjoyed to take walks in the garden at midnight, not like Sansa and Jeyne Poole at noon.

And my curtains were always closed. The sun is rising and batting through my window six minutes before I usually wake and I refuse to destroy my beloved sleeping pattern.

"Enough of that, young lady. Eat your food." Septa Mordane scolds Arya, who's been stabbing the table with a knife for several seconds

"I'm practising."

"Practising for what?"

"the prince"

"Arya, stop!"

"He's a liar and a coward and he killed my friend"

"The Hound killed your friend"

"The Hound does whatever the prince tells him to do"

"You're an idiot"

"You're a liar, and if you told the truth Mycah would be alive"

"Enough!" Septa rises and slams her hands on the table, making me wipe a smirk I didn't know I had on my face

"What's happening here?" father enters and I can't help but look at his new hand pin

"Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady" Septa answers

"Go to your room. We'll speak later"

then father turns to Sansa, giving her a gift "That's for you, love"

Sansa unwraps the gift with a very unpleased face "I haven't played with dolls since I was eight"

I look down at my empty cup, wiping the jealousy away and rose my head "And I haven't recived a present since I was eight. Can I go to the tourney, father?" I spoke so fast as I first thought I had to repeat my request, but based on father's pitiful face I knew he heard

"You and your sisters are allowed to go"

꧁✯꧂

𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 between Arya and Septa Mordane, perfectly hearing every word spoken by the man behind me, introduced to us as Lord Petyr Baelish.

"I've been sitting here for days!" the King yells, urging them to start. But when the King sits, the Queen rises and leaves.

One of the knights rides before the King.
"Gods, who's that?" Sansa asks
"Ser Gregor Clegane. They call him the Mountain" The man, larger than the Hound, removes the part of his helmet that even at seven-and-ten I don't know the name of and with wrathous eyes he bows his head to the King.
"The Hound's older brother" I look at the Hound, who doesn't seem like he enjoys his brother's presence

"And his opponent?"
"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come"

"Yes, yes enough of the bloody pump. Have at him!" Now I understand why father wasn't here.

The knights gallop in oppsite directions, and perepare themselves for the joust.

The Mountain's lance, who was held more steady ends up in Ser Hugh's neck. I didn't know why people were suprised, I was clear that a mountain of a man would kill a young bird from the Vale, but my jaw tightens at the sight.