The Forest Child {Sandor Clegane Story}

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"It can't be true!" Jon whispered as he read the letter to Maester Aemon.

"The words state it, Jon. Winterfell had indeed fallen," the old man sighed underneath his heavy chains.

"Rob is gone, Arya, Sansa they are both gone. Gods know where Natari is and now Winterfell," he mumbled as he fought to fight back tears.

"The night's watch is your family now, Jon. The men here, they are your brothers."

When Jon had first been assigned to the stewards, instead of the rangers, he had almost rejected his sworn words then. Over the months he had grown close to the old maester though and had been assigned to steward for the Lord Commander himself. Samwell told him it was because he was grooming him to take over one day, but Jon still doubted that.

Jon's uncle, Benjen had never returned from his mission beyond the wall, and after Jon had saved his Lord Commander from near-death by a white walker, a mission was being put in place to investigate what was really going on.

"Jon, you are to follow the commander outside of the wall tomorrow. You must not let this hinder your wits," the old man continued as Jon thought of her sweet sister Natari.

"I may never return Maester, so may I ask you something?"

"Anything dear boy. Although I cannot promise to answer" he chuckled.

"Is it true that you are a Targaryen?"

"Yes, I was once Prince Aemon Targaryen, bound to be the King after my brothers' untimely death. I had already taken my vows though and it was then passed to my young brother, King Aegon V".

"Father to the mad king and... grandfather to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon replied softly.

"Do you know something boy?" The old man asked with intrigue.

Jon waited a moment to reply, unsure on how to. "Yes".

"Say then, out loud, just this once".

"You... You are my great-great-uncle," Jon gulped.

"See, not all your family are gone, Jon. Perceptive is a powerful tool. Tell me, did your father tell you?"

"No, he told my sister and she told me when she arrived here."

"Then you may tell her of your new-found relative when you see her again," the old man smiled cheerfully.

"She is most likely dead Maester. And the gods only know when I shall return," Jon sighed.

"Jon," Aemon sighed and grabbed the boys arms to bring him closer. "You are a Targaryen. You know deep inside that she lives. You shall see each other again."

Further south, just a few miles away from the eastern coast of Westeros, a ship struggled to keep control under a sudden and frightful storm.

"WE'RE SINKINGGGG. THE SHIP IS GOING!" a panicked deck hand yelled as he watched the ship collide into a jagged rock.

Everyone on the ship was now running around the deck. Trying to scramble into the rowboats or just throwing themselves into the water and hoping for the best.

"What do we do here?" Natari asked a passing sailor.

"Pray," he shouted out as he ran for the edge of the ship and leapt down into the water.

I will not die this way.

Natari knew if she stayed on the boat, she would most definitely go down with the wreck.  Her only hope was to jump from the water and swim for land. Looking over the edge of the ship, the East coast of Westeros did not seem that far away.

"I can make that. I can do this," she repeated to herself.

Ensuring her blade was still tucked inside her boot. Natari climbed over the edge.

I will not die like this.

I will not die today.

Back on the safety of land, Sandor Clegane sat eating stew with Septor Rey.

"If the gods are real, why haven't they punished me?" Sandor asked.

"You say what kept you going was a woman?" He asked back.

"Aye, a woman."

"You loved this woman?"

"Aye".

"Well, they have then," the Septor smiled.

Later that day, the Septor stood around as his followers listened to his story. "I was a soldier once. Not a very good one, I wasn't particularly strong or brave. I did what my captain's commanded though, I didn't want to look weak. So I'd burnt down villages and killed poor folk. But for what? For nothing. I thought I'd die like that, a warrior in my own eyes, with no forgiveness from the gods. I was wrong though. I've made more mistakes in this world than most men, but the gods are mercifully and kind. We can always be forgiven. Its never too late to stop robbing people, to stop killing people and instead... start helping people".

The Septor smiled at Sandor, who only grunted and looked the other way.

Suddenly, the sound of a woman crying out for help rang across the landscape. The Septor suddenly turned his attention towards the coast. "Men!" he commanded as he and a group of the men from the group ran in the direction of the cry. Sandor dragged his aching body off his tree trunk seat and followed the group.

Finally, the group found the cause of the crying. Crawling up the beach was a half-dressed woman. She had obviously just come from the ocean, where, in the distance, a ship sank slowly in the water.

When Sandor first saw the woman he felt his entire body freeze.

"You?"