Second Chance // Sandor Clegane

3. Small Talk and Ale

    I got out of the Red Keep prior to everyone else, trying to beat the crowd when it came time to exit. I wandered around for a bit, and then, I finally came across a tavern. Vampires may not drink, but I'd found that it was always a fun atmosphere.

    As I sat on a wooden bench, pretending to sip my ale, my sight was invaded by a short, drunk lump of flesh. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman that looks like you around here," he slurred. "Why don't you and me go on around back and..."

    He trailed off as he began to paw at me. I shoved him back roughly. "Get your fucking hands off me," I seethed. 

    "Oh, you're a feisty girl? I like them feisty." And he reached for me again.

    As I shoved him once more and stood, rearing back a closed fist, I was suddenly aware of the intoxicating aroma of leather, wine, and pine needles.

    I didn't have the chance to follow through on my swing before hearing a familiar, gruff voice speak up behind the imbecile. "Aye, you heard the lady say stop, didn't you?" 

    As soon as the drunken fool gawked at Sandor Clegane, he backed away, apologies falling from his lips.

    "Thank you," I spoke, looking up at the man inquisitively. "But I'm no lady." 

    He scanned my appearance. "You're done up like one." 

    I quirked up an eyebrow, "And you were done up like a knight, but by your own admission, you are no Ser."

    He gave a grunt, the tone of which sounded like agreement, and threw himself down on the bench across from me. To make sure he understood my appreciation, I slid my cup of ale across the table, which he took no time slugging down.

    We sat in silence for a good while, then I heard his voice again. "You aren't from here." It was not a question. 

    I cocked my head. "On the contrary, I am."

    "You don't sound Westerosi." He looked me up and down. "But you do look it." 

    I nodded again. "I was born in Westeros, raised in the Free City of Braavos, then spent some time in Volterra."

    "Volterra? How did a small thing like you survive out in Dothraki country?" He asked, trying to hide the genuine curiosity that painted his features.

    I silently cursed myself. I'd been careful before this, omitting the mention of Volterra when asked where I was from. But something about Sandor made it hard to lie, or made me forget that I had to.

    "By being underestimated by large men like you," I responded with a smirk. He gave a dry laugh as he flagged down the bar maiden for another cup of ale.

    There wasn't much conversation after that, mostly just the sound of Sandor Clegane downing glass after glass. At the end of the night, we were the last in the tavern, and the large man was unresponsive, shifting around with his head against the table in front of him.

    I eventually slid my arms under his own, dragging him through the door, cursing the fact that I could not just carry him. But being able to drag a man of this size would already be questionable enough.

    I didn't know how to keep him on his horse once I got him up there, so I ended up dragging him all the way to the Red Keep

    Guards stood at the front, alerted by my arrival. "I'm just dropping him off," I told them, nodding towards the man whose legs dragged the ground. "Can you men take it from here?"

    The guards looked at each other, and a couple of them moved to grab the Hound. They immediately struggled to even move him an inch.

    I rolled my eyes and pushed them to the side, regaining my grip under Sandor's arms. "Just show me where to put him." A guard nodded with wide eyes and led me up through the grand doors.

    Eventually, we ended up in Sandor's chambers. It was a small, dusty room, making it obvious that he was not held in a high regard by the King or his mother. I pulled him up onto the bed, and turned to leave behind the guard.

    As we stepped out of the room, I took note of a man standing across the large floor, not knowing how long he had been there. He was dressed in expensive clothing that told me he was part of the family, not just an employee.

    He looked at me with intrigue as I walked, sauntering across the floor to meet me. "Did you just drag the Hound to his quarters?" I nodded and he continued. "I've never met anyone, man or woman, capable of moving that man, except perhaps his brother."

    There was something in his eyes that I did not like, the same thing I saw in both Joffrey and Cersei. I did not trust him.

    "Now you have," I told him flatly, moving around him to leave.

    But the man was determined and stepped in front of me once again, this time with a smirk. "I'm Ser Jaime Lannister. I don't believe I've ever seen you, what is your name?" 

    I gave him a bored expression. "Because I have been here only a day, and my name is Katira."

    "Lady Katira, where do you hail from?" Jaime asked, cocking his head at me. 

    "Just Katira. I come from Braavos. Now, if you will excuse me—" I tried to move around him once more, to no avail.

    I needed to hunt, and this nuisance of the name Lannister was only making the hunger grow. 

    "Nonsense, you shall have a room here in the Red Keep for the duration of your stay, as a... thank you for returning my nephew's protector."

    I knew this man was not going to give up, so I yielded to his offer and accepted a room, planning to escape from the window to hunt.

    I didn't mind much the idea of staying at the Red Keep, I liked to see the intricacies of royalty, to see how their minds worked. Besides, it was not like they could endanger me. It also gave me the chance to be closer to Sandor.

    The room I was led to was not far from Sandor's, but a little bigger, and with much more extravagant decor. I feigned appreciation to Jaime and was then left alone.

    I waited until all footsteps ceased before pushing open the window beside the bed and quickly leaping down to the earth below.

A/N: Blah, kinda short chapter, maybe a little boring too, getting Kat established in Westeros.