Vengeance // Sandor Clegane

- III -

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There was no rational thought flowing inside the Dornish Princess' head. She simply waited for the caravan to stop, hoping that the Hound would not break the awkward silence.
She waited more patiently than she knew she could.

When they forced them back into the caravan, some of the members thought it would be truly hilarious to leave her without the bag on her head, so she could stare upon the man's unpleasant face every time she rose her gaze. Thoros quickly dismissed it. Maybe Adora wasn't fully surprised when he did so. She knew he was a bluffing fool because he wanted to be, he wasn't cruel or unmerciful of her.

In all her misery, she could only hide in that bag with shame, as the caravan moved through the rocky path.

Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella, little Elia, Obella, Dorea, Loreza, Elia, Oberyn, Quentyn, Trystane, Rhaenys, Aegon, Ellaria, Adora chanted in her head as she always did. She doesn't remeber when she first got this strange habit, but she knew that it would help her from going mad. She'd remind herself why she was in the place she was—because she loved them all so dearly.

It was hard to even think of the names of her sister and her children. She wanted revenge, all of them wanted it.
Doran, the name was almost foreign in her thoughts, the last name of the little list. She would want to say that the man who sent her away wasn't her brother, her flesh and blood, but she couldn't. She loved him all the same, no more than she did love her other nieces. He wanted to avenge Elia, too, but he was too calm, too moral, no way to win against the Lannisters.

Each time she replayed the sound of their names in her mind she reminded herself that the thirst for revenge should not led her to hatred, then her paid debt would have been done for nothing.
She dreamed of going home, of Oberyn's playful smirk with Ellaria on his arm, of her nieces throwing down their spears and running towards their aunt the moment she would re-enter Sunspear, of Doran welcoming her with open arms. When that would be true, she'd come back with a prize—the Mountain's head.
Only then she'd be content and at peace with herself, knowing that their sister would be avenged.

However Adora was ashamed, truly ashamed of the man sitting opposite of her. The Mountain's brother, publicly, as nearly as horrid and blood thirsty as his older sibling. The man she has fucked without a second thought and without guilt some days ago. She has made a fool of herself, to the Brotherhood, to the Hound and to her own person.

A sudden halt plucked her out of her ravaging thoughts. The thieves arrived home. Thoros tried to shove some rum down the Stark girl's throat, while they were taken out of the caravan, being urged forward, towards their den.

As they walked inside the humid cave, they held the Hound tight, but the Dornish Princess tighter. If they had enough men to overpower the Clegane by strength, they had no one as fast and quick-thinking—or rather irascibile—as Adora. They learned that from the last time she almost succeeded to escape with a dozen of men surrounding her.

Two dirty hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her down with force. Her wounded calf gave in and she was seated, the thieves not daring to remove her ropes only the bag on her head. Seven Hells, Seven Gods and Seven Fucking Everything that existed—it was good to breath anything else other than the putrid of that bag, even if that anything else was burnt coals and men's sweat.

Her eyes scanned the room within seconds.
"What is this place?" She recognised that skinny Stark girl's friend speaking.

"Somewhere neither wolves nor lions come prowling" Thoros said, walking away towards the bigger prize.

Adora's gaze was stuck on the burnt part of his face, a face she'd recognise within millions—that monster's brother, a kind of monster of his own too. Did he, by any chance, knew whom she was when they were thrown together in that caravan? Did he take pleasure from ravaging the woman that has blindly thrown herself into his arms so she could live in misery for the rest of her life knowing that both of the brothers mocked her greatly? Such cruel thought about such cruel man was almost fitting. Adora could almost imagine those hateful eyes doing it on purpose.
It did not matter now. It will not happen again. She would rather go celibate that repeat that kind of mistake again.