The Wolf and The Hound~*Sandor Clegane*~

Introduction: Arabella's Attack

**MATURE CONTENT!! read at your own risk!!***

I am Lady Arabella Stark. Eldest daughter, and first born child to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark.

When I was 10 years old I snuck away from my guards early in the morning. I had always loved to go wandering around the vastness of Winter Town. I started doing this when I was a little over five years old. So needless to say it was a pattern.

A pattern that someone learned. Unknown to me that is.

I had just said good morning to an older women, Nina, who was washing her linens in the earliness of the morn. After which I would head to the man, Goney he called himself. He was in charge of one of the many fruit carts that would come to Winterfell. But before I could reach him, someone reached out for me.

It had been a bad 3 weeks. Our supplies were running low and the replenishment wouldn't be here for at least another week.

The people were angry. And wanted revenge.

I tried my hardest to kick and scream. As a girl of ten, I couldn't do much.

There was a man holding down my arms. Another grabbed a cloth of fabric and shoved it into my mouth, keeping his hand over it to muffle my screams as he helped the other hold my arms. There were two other men, each holding down one of my legs. The last man, the ugliest of them all, he knelt between my legs.

Laughing he grabbed my face to force me to look at him, "You are a sweet one. You won't be after this." He said as he pulled a dagger from his waistband. Bringing it up to my face he held the tip at the bottom outer corner of my left eye. I screamed as it pierced deeper and he drug it down my face, stopping when he came to the bottom of my left ear. I could feel the blood dripping down my face as they all laughed.

I continued to struggle against them, but my small frame was no match for their larger ones. The man that cut me took the same dagger and cut away at my clothes. Leaving me bare and cold in front of them. The pain that shot through my small body as they all took their turns with me, it was unbearable. I remember everything going black a few times. But they always had one of them wake me up.

After they each had at least two turns with me they took one of their torches and held it to my skin. I could feel the heat on my stomach, my flesh began to smell. I felt the same heat on my right thigh, that same smell invading my nose. As I felt my flesh begin to boil I tried to get free. My body betrayed me. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, nothing.

So I laid there, burning as tears rolled down my face, mixing with the blood that fell beneath me. That's when I heard horses, the yelling of my father and his men. My eyes were almost to black again as I looked and saw the horror on the faces of the men holding me.

The last thing I remember before the black overtook me was telling my father and his men not to kill my attackers.

They were mine to kill.

It took a total of five months for my body to heal completely. The scar on my face healing but remaining ever prominent, a slightly darker color than my skin. The burn marks on my stomach and thigh healing but remaining visible as the skin was distorted and scared. After I was able to get around without help I begged my father to teach me how to use a sword, even a dagger and a bow.

I wanted to learn so I could kill the men that did this to me. To kill the ones that took away everything that made me a Lady.

So father had a few of his men teach me everything there was to know about sword fighting. How to handle and throw a dagger. How to shot a bow, while standing still and whilst moving. I took it upon myself to learn to climb things and how to fight hand to hand. By my 12th name day father said I was ready.

Over the course of three moons I tortured the first man, the one who held my arms.

It only took two moons for the second, the one who shoved the cloth in my mouth.

The third man, the one who held my left leg. He lasted for about five moons.

The fourth, the other man who held my right leg, he sadly only last one moon. Pity.

The last man. The one who caused the most pain. He lasted for 12 long and horrendous moons. I made sure of that.

I made sure each one was force fed food and water. They were cleaned and wounds tended to after I was done with them for the day.

They were great practicing tools for me. My swordsmanship and archery skills greatly improved. As did my knife throwing and hand to hand combat.

My mother was worried for me. Seeing as how I had turned from a sweet young girl into one of brutal unthinkable acts, for a Lady. I wasn't worried. I was able to protect myself. Protect my brothers and sisters and I got older.

Now at the age of 22 years, I am unmarried and not promised to any man. Once they find out about my attack, if they already didn't know, they turn me away. Saying I'm used and tainted. My scars are ugly and to horrid to deal with. My sharp tongue and fighting ways never helped. I was a Lady when needed but I could act like a man as well. Due to no one wanting me my father said I could marry whoever I pleased, or not at all. I was thankful for that. I turned my attention to my younger siblings. My brothers needing help with swords and fighting, my sisters needing help with needle point and singing. All things I knew well, and did well.

It wasn't long until everyone started calling me 'Mother Wolf'. Due to the way I cared for my siblings and my parents when needed. I might not have been a real mother, but I had the same instincts, the same protectiveness. And I was to be damned if I let anything happen to my pack.