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Chapter Text

Prologue: The Inspection

"Mellina, where are you?"

The Queen's tone was bordering on annoyance, a dangerous position to be in especially for a servant to find themselves in. The Lannister Queen was known through the Red Keep to be notoriously mercurial. She bounced between coldness, when you were safe, to fiery, this is where no servant ever wanted to find themselves.

"Coming, Your Grace," Melinna hustled through the bed chamber door toting a heavy pitcher of Arbor Gold. She was older than most of the Queen's servants. Most maids who had stayed in service for as long as you had never left. "I've fetched your favorite, Your Grace."

"Hm," Cersei sniffed, leaning back on her chaise and kicking off her silken slippers. She had spent hours tending to the court, hearing complaints and requests in her drunken husband's stead, while the small council scrambled without Jon Arryn's firm leadership.

She outstretched her chalice and watched as her attendant filled it to the perfect level, as she had a million times before.

"Leave the pitcher" she grumbled. "Come around here and let me look at you."

Mellina set the pitcher down and moved to kneel before her queen. She knew what the queen was looking for. She wanted to make sure her attendants were clean and well-kept. It was a privilege to be allowed to serve the queen so closely, and certain standards had to be maintained to earn that privilege. Mellinna's skin prickled as she quelled under the Queen's heavy gaze.

"Chin up"

She obeyed quickly, keeping her eyes cast away from her mistress like one looks away from the sun, or tries not to gaze too long the Sept's Altar. It was out of reverence and a little bit of fear. Cersei's face was stony as the great wall in the North, and just as icy. Her eyes tracked from the dull, woolen skirt that made up a servant's uniform, up the maid's body, over the fair soft skin of her neck and face, sipping slowly as she took all of it in.

"Go drawl my bath, then come back to help me undress." The queen broke her gaze, leaning back on the chaise once more.

Mellina moved as quickly as her slippered feet could take her. Sharply, the maid ordered for hot water to be brought by the bucket full before carefully setting out the queen's scented oils and soaps. There were extracts of fruits made by craftsmen in the free cities, oils that contained unknown shimmering powders, and earthen jars of salts and clays that enriched the skin.
The Queen's private bathing chamber was breathtakingly beautiful, but she had no time to admire it. The tub was masterfully crafter copper that shimmer in the light of the fire Mellina tended with a large iron poker. The walls were draped with tapestries depicting awe-inspiring landscapes, each from a different part of Westeros. The largest was of Casterly Rock in the Westerlands, the Queen's own childhood home.
Based on the tapestry, one could understand why she resented leaving.

Before returning, Mellina did a double-check, then a triple-check.
Everything needed to be perfect. Absolutely nothing could be out of place.

Cersei was still lounging when her maid came back, watching carefully as she stood before her mistress with eyes downcast, waiting.

"Everything is in order?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"The water is being drawn?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And the fire has been lit?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Cersei's lips pulled back in a satisfied smirk, rising slowly before approaching her maid. She got so close, Mellina's breath caught in her throat. She could smell her perfume, the scent of incense from the sept, and the aroma of wine wafting off of her, intoxicating the maid's senses.

The queen turned her back to her, her golden hair almost tickling her nose.

"Undress me"

Mellina's face flushed involuntarily as she began to carefully unfasten every tie and button of her gown, peeling off each layer with care until the queen was bare and her skin prickled in the night air. It was a task she had become accustomed to, but all the same, it brought a rush of blood to her face, like she was getting away with something wrong.
"Your robe, Your Grace" Mellina moved to close the silked garment over the Queen's body, but instead Cersei brushed her aside and moved to the large tub of hammered copper which had been filled with water and kept warm by a small fire.

Mellina followed behind her dutifully, taking her thin and graceful hand to assist her in and then standing aside until she was needed.

The Queen groaned lowly as the hot water ebbed the tension from her muscles.

"The brush" She ordered lazily, leaning back as Mellina scooped up an ivory-handled brush and sat behind her to carefully brush the queen's golden locks until they shone in the firelight. She could not help but revel in how soft her hair was; thick and silky like it was spun from fine gold.

"You have such tender hands" The queen sighed, the sensation of her brush stroking her from scalp to tip soothing her into relaxation.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How long have you been here now? Not very long."

"In your service, a few months, Your Grace," Mellina confirmed. "But I have spent about half my life serving in the Keep."

"That's right" she nodded. "How are you finding life in The Queen's service then?"

"Very well, Your Grace" Mellina swallowed, feeling that the question was loaded in some way. "I am very grateful for the privilege."

"I'm sure" the queen agreed. "Come around here, my legs ache."

The maid set the brush aside and stifled a gasp as Cersei raised a leg from the tub, slick with water and scented oils.

"Rub them for me."

Mellina nodded, holding her breath as the queen draped the leg over her shoulder and allowed her to knead and rub her royal muscles into submission. The bath water from her leg seeped into your bodice, smelling of almonds and flowers. Steam still wafted off the Queen's leg, and Mellina tried her very hardest not to stare.

"Do you feel worthy?" Cersei watched her maid carefully "Of the privilege you've been given?"

The Maid swallowed hard, "Not remotely, Your Grace."

"I disagree" Cersei grabbed her wine glass and took another long drink. "Do you dare to disagree with your queen?"

"N-no, Your Grace, never" Mellina rushed as if to cover up some mistake and shook her head. "I suppose I have a limited view of the situation. Surely your grace knows better than I."

"Well said" Cersei looked almost impressed, stifling a groan as you found a particularly tight muscle in her calf. Her skin was slick with oil, allowing the maid's small, round hands to glide up and down her leg with ease. Mellina could not help but wonder how far her hands would be allowed to travel.

Once the Queen finished her first glass of wine, and then a second, she sighed and pulled herself from the water.

"My robe, Mellina"

To hear her say that name made the maid's blood rush more than it already was.

"Yes, Your Grace"

She wrapped the robe around her queen carefully, blushing as the sheer silk clung to her wet body. Cersei's form was still tight and graceful, despite having given birth three times. Her hips and breasts had grown fuller with motherhood, but her face was still all sharp Lannister angles.

"Many Targaryen queens had a habit of keeping their handmaids close by," Cersei spoke thoughtfully yet firmly, in a tone that told the maid what she was about to say was very important. "I've made a decision. You will not be sleeping in the servant's quarters anymore. Instead, I will have a cot brought so you will sleep in here, at the foot of my bed."

Mellina's blush widened across her round face and her heart fluttered. "O-Of course, Your Grace. Thank you, I am most grateful."

"I would also have you come with me to The North." Cersei pulled a disgusted face, making it clear that she would rather go anywhere but. "The King has decreed we are all to go, to visit the Warden of The North. I will depend upon you to keep the journey bearable."

Mellina was stunned. After years of pining, she could not believe that the Queen's attitude towards her could go from complete indifference to such explicit trust. It had to be too good to be true, she knew it. Something in the pit of her stomach knew.

Attempting to cover her pleasure with a dutiful look of reverence, Mellina went into a low curtsey.

"I am most honored in your trust in me, Your Grace. I will not let you down."

"Good Girl" Cersei grinned with a flash of her cat-like eyes. "Now, turn down my bed, I am tired."

Chapter Text

The ride north was an unforgiving one. Being lowborn, Mellina had only admired horses from afar before being expected to ride in the Queen's entourage. Side saddle riding protected her modesty and spared her thighs the chafing that the Male riders suffered, but her lower back and shoulders ached all the same.

The queen rode in a lavish carriage with her three children, guarded closely on either side by Ser Jaime and Sandor Clegane.

Due to her inexperience riding and her newfound favor with her grace, Mellina was instructed to ride alongside The Hound, who was under orders to keep an eye on the maid and intervene if the mare beneath her proved too rowdy.

It was clear that The Hound resented this duty, already having to keep an eye on the young Prince Joffery, who alternated between riding in the carriage and mounting his own steed. A bright white and rowdy gelding that was the torment of the other horses in the party. It nipped and whinnied, trotting circles around the group in a foppish, showy manner.

The Hound, on the other hand, mounted a broad-bodied horse that was black as midnight with a coal grey mane named Stranger.

As the prince took another lap, the white gelding nipped at the hindquarters of Mellina's mare for what must have been the fifth or sixth time that day. The mare, tired and frustrated with this harassment, finally decided to voice her displeasure by baying loudly and bouncing her back legs enough to bounce the poor maid around.

"No, no Girl. Whoa, stop stop stop" The maid squealed, pulling at the reins with as much force as she dared but the horse was too fed up to mind.

"Stop! Stop the carriage" a firm and regal voice put a halt to the party as Clegane snatched the reigns from her grasp and managed to settle the mare back into submission.

"Mother's Mercy!" A gruff voice growled, accompanied by the heavy trot of hooves. King Robert's face was red as a cherry from drink and frustration as he glared at the queen. "If you keep holding us up, Winterfell will be snowed in before we even get there!"

"I apologize, Your Grace" Mellina bowed her head, face flushed with embarrassment. "It was my fault, I failed to control my mount. My deepest apologies."

Robert's eyes rolled nearly back to his skull with a begrudging sigh before flinging a finger at Clegane.

"You, Hound, let the maid ride with you and have that beast tethered to a wagon"

He tossed a glare back at the queen, a look that said 'You just had to bring her, didn't you?' Before returning to his place in the party.

"I'm sorry" Mellina nearly whispered, tailing the gargantuan man as he tethered the horse in brooding silence.

Heading back to Stranger, Mellina nearly cried out as Clegane snatched the softness of her upper arm and all but dragged her up onto the horse in front of him. His grip was bruising and her had to force herself not to rub the part of her arm where he snatched her like a hawk snatches a rabbit.

"Not one word" he growled "or I'll toss you from this horse and let you walk to Winterfell."

The party rode until dusk, and Mellina's body didn't relax until she was safely once again on solid ground. Despite the too close quarters on the horse, she tried her best to avoid touching him more than necessary or making too much noise.

Once again, The Hound dismounted first before he gripped the maid by around her soft waist, hard fingers pressing into the flesh under her riding clothes, and all but dragged her off the horse where she landed with a wobble of her knees.

"Mellina, To me" her mistress called and the maid rushed to her side immediately.

"Yes, Your Grace" Her curtsey suffered from the weakness in her legs, but the Queen hardly seemed to notice.

"You had us worried there" She looked down at Mellina with unreadable eyes, "You'll have to improve your riding if you wish to keep up"

"I will, Your Grace. Thank you"

"Take my things inside" she motioned vaguely to the inn at which they had stopped for the night. "Just follow King Robert's squire, he'll show you. Then come back for the children's things"

"Immediately, Your Grace"

The work was arduous, and by the time she finished, it was past dark. The inn provided food and housing for the higher members of the entourage, but at The Queen's insistence, her maid was to sleep at the foot of her bed as she did in The Red Keep.

Robert was apathetic to this. Ser Jaime, to Mellina's surprise, seemed genuinely disappointed by this and approached the queen when they thought they had a moment in private, not knowing they were being listeded to as Mellina settled her grace in for the night.

"Don't worry" Cersei assured him "I'll just send her out"

-----------

After dinner, Mellina tended to her queen with great care. Standing behind her as she sat on the edge of the plush feather bed, her gently pulled a comb through her golden locks, picking out any snags with extreme tenderness.

"Mellina, tonight my brother will be coming by to discuss some family matters and I want you out of the way."

"Of course, your grace." the maid complied, satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she wouldn't want any around when they discussed Lannister matters. They were a notoriously family focused bunch.

"And..." She turned slightly, looking up at the maid through her lashes in a way that made Mellina's breath catch in her chest. "Be a good girl, and don't mention this to anyone. It's my business, and I expect you to keep it that way."

"Not a word, Your Grace" Mellina's face began to flush as Cersei's long, slender hand grasped at her small, common one.

"Not even to The King."

"The King?" She paused, confused why the king would inquire about such a thing in the first place. "Yes, your grace. Not even to the King. I swear it"

Cersei's face softened at this and, to the maid's great shock, raised her hand to her grace's lovely face and allowed it to stroke her cheek gently.

"What would I do without you?" She breathed before letting her hand drop back to her side and turning back around so she could finish combing out her hair.

Mellina carried the high of her touch through the evening and even when she sent her away. The maid curtsied to Jaime primly before slipping outside back to the wagons.

Aimless, she went to the stables where the horses had been bedded down for the night, glancing into each stall curiously until she found the mare her had ridden earlier.

Her tawny coat had been brushed and her white snout was buried in a pail of oats.

"Hello," Mellina greeted her in a small voice. "I'm sorry about before, it wasn't your fault"

The horse snorted at her in an apathetic manner, flicking the flies off with her tail.

"Don't talk to horses" a gruff voice scolded the maid from down the stable hall.

She jumped, having believed she was alone, before craning her head to see who spoke.

"Why not?" She eyed The Hound with flushed cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught but trying not to make it obvious.

"Because it makes you look mad" he grumbled. "No one wants a mad handmaid"

"Well" She sputtered as he approached her from Stranger's stall, "It wasn't her fault. It was that gelding that kept biting her."

"It wasn't her fault, you're right" he stopped, towering over the maid like a shadow. "It was your fault"

"What?"

"That mare is the most patient thing in this barn, trained to handle children and unskilled little fools like you." He leaned against the wood of the stall with his arms crossed firmly. "If you'd just kept your calm like any person with half a brain would, she would have listened to you"

"I do so have a brain" Mellina raged indigantly. Where did he get off being so disrespectful when all she'd been was polite?

"Doubt it" The hound scoffed "The queen does all your thinking for you, she's got your brain tucked away in all those trunks somewhere."

"Why I-" the maid gasped at his rudeness, "All I have ever done is my very best for Her Grace's comfort and happiness. If My Lady has any issue with the way I serve her, she will not hesitate to let me know"

"I'll bet" a cruel smirk spread across Sandor's face. "And they call me the hound. What a well-trained little bitch she has in you."

The slap came on reflex, fueled by indignant rage that fled her body as quickly as it came. The blood drained from the maid's face as the Hound's gaze trained on her with a low growl.

"You get one of those. Only one. Next time you even think about raising a hand to me, I'll tear it off and beat you with it"

Mellina nodded slowly, closing her eyes as if bracing for a strike until Clegane let out a slow exhale.

"Run back to your mistress, little girl. And don't let me see your face until morning."

She did exactly that, hovering in the hallway of her grace's room until Ser Jaime slipped out quietly and tried to sneakily return to his own before stopping in his tracks at the sight of the plump maid parked at the end of the hall.

She curtsied and kept her head down until her chin was jerked up suddenly, making her flinch. Jaime's eyes studied her rosey face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stream of tears. She'd been crying and didn't even realize it.

"Do I need to do something about this?" The head of the king's guard asked, knowing the maid fully got his meaning.

"No" she shook her head and wiped away what was left of her tears with her palm. "No Ser, I am fine. Thank you"

Jaime nodded. "My sister is waiting for you"

"Yes, Ser" She breathed, trying to right herself before letting her lady see you. "Thank you, Ser"

Mellina watched him go, steadying her breath and wiping her eyes one last time before returning to her post

Chapter Text

After the event with the mare, the queen saw fit that Mellina would be given basic riding lessons.

"Right, now just do exactly as he says" Cersei emphasized. "No second guessing or backtalk. Treat him as you would me."
"Of course, Your Grace" The maid was wrapped in a thin wool cloak and worn leather boots, bracing against the chill of the coming autumn. The summer had to end sometime, she supposed.

"My brother is being very generous, offering to teach you." Cersei reminded her.

"I am very grateful for the help" She kept her eyes trained ahead, not wanting to see presumptuous by looking at the queen too much or talking too much.
It was bizarre, two high-borns taking such an interest in a low-born handmaiden with no family name. It made her uneasy as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I certainly don't to embarrass myself more than I already have."

Jaime was waiting for them by the stables, dressed in sturdy riding leather. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and was brushed back with a gloved hand before he spotted their approach and smiled charmingly.

"Sweet sister" he greeted Cersei before resting his pale green eyes on Mellina "And your new plaything."
"Now Jaime" Cersei chided him, "Be nice, Mellina isn't used to your teasing like I am."

"She will be" Jaime smirked at the pretty maid, taking in her round, soft figure that was mostly hidden under a servant's frock and cloak, watching the blush creep up her neck and across her face. "Come, let's get started."

"I'll be waiting with the party, my dear." Cersei touched Mellina's shoulder, quickening her pulse as she whipped around.
"Your Grace, you're leaving?"

"Rest assured, you are in good hands" The queen insisted, flashing her a cryptic smile. "Good luck"

"Charming, isn't she?" Jaime came from behind the maid, watching as his sister left them to their own devices. "Come now, the faster we start, the faster you can stop being bullied by Clegane and that rabid stallion of his."

Eager to stand, or rather ride, on her own two feet, Mellina followed him before realizing there was only one horse readied.
"Uh, Ser?"

"You didn't think I'd jump to letting you ride on your own that quickly, did you?" Jaime practically laughed in her face. "Here, you first."

"I..." She gawked at the saddle the horse was set with. "You mean riding astride?"

"Something wrong with it?"

Mellina thought for a moment before embracing her mistress's request to trust the knight.
"No, not at all"

He hoisted her up onto the back of his sturdy mount before swinging his legs up behind her. The maid swallowed a gasp, suddenly finding herself pressed between the pommel of the saddle and Ser Jaime's chest.

"Let's get into some open terrain so you have space to learn."

Before she could protest, the knight had set the beast off at a quick gallop, one hand gripping the reigns and the other arm wrapped firmly around her waist to keep you from falling off.

Once they were well away from the party and in a broad scope of the field, Jaime stopped the horse.

"Now," He handed her the reigns and without preamble placed two solid hands on her shoulders. "The first thing to know about proper horse riding is your posture. Do you want to guide the beast properly? You have to sit it properly."

He gently guided her shoulder back, straightening her spine in the process.

"Now there's a saying my riding master taught me as a boy. And while it may seem forward, I need you to trust me."

Mellina's skin prickled at the near-constant contact between their bodies but tried to push it down and focus on the lesson. "Her Grace insisted you were the best. You have my full trust, Ser."

"Good Girl" Jaime praised in a tone that almost melted into a purr. "Now the first thing you want to remember about riding a horse is; Shoulders like a Soldier..."His hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, before coming to rest on the swell of her hips. "And Hips like a Whore."

"Ser!" She gasped, scandalized, but Jaime tutted her into submission.

"I warned you it was forward, but just trust me." He soothed, "Now I am going to drive the horse forward slowly, and I want you to just-" His grip on her hips tightened "Follow the motion."

The beast began to move forward at a gentle walk and as they went; Jaime's hands slowly guided Mellina's hips to match the motion of the horse's gait.

"A little faster?" He asked and she nodded, growing in confidence.

The walk turned to a trot, and the trot to a brisk canter, and finally to a full gallop which left the maid breathless, clinging to the horse with her thighs as if she might fall off at any moment.

"Very good" Jaime practically cooed in her ear, slowing the beast back down to a peaceful trot. "You are everything my sister promised."
Mellina beamed at that, proud to have lived up to her mistress's praises.

As her breath returned to her, she began to notice something different. Something that hadn't been there when they started their ride.

A hardness pressed against her ass, brushing up against her with the motion of the beast below them.
"S-ser Jaime." Mellina swallowed, unsure if he also noticed this new development. "We should go-"

"Go back, so soon?" Jaime crooned, pulling her closer to him in the saddle and bringing the horse back to a quick trot. "It's a lovely day, we should take advantage of it."

The hardness grew, and she tried not to notice until she felt it twitch slightly and Jaime muffled a moan in his throat.

"I don't think Her Grace would-"

"Would what?" Jaime grinned knowingly at her confused tone. "Sweetling, why do you think she left you out here all alone with me?"
"Because she trusts you, you're her brother."

"Hm," Jaime's hands massaged Mellina's hips slowly, running over her soft thighs and even venturing around to the front to cup her sex through her skirt.
Mellina gasped at the sudden touch, her pulse pounding as his two fingers skillfully located her slit and began to rub gently through the fabric of her dress.

"Ser" She breathed, trying to organize her thoughts as Jaime pulled her hips back to him, her back flush against his chest, rubbing slow circles through the skirt with the tips of his fingers.

"Just relax, sweetling" He breathed into her ear, "If you get too excited, the horse will sense it. Then we're both in trouble."

"We shouldn't..."

"I don't see you stopping me." He pointed out, hips continuing to brush the length of his cock against her ass. "All I feel is your body heating up against mine. Are you getting excited?"

"Oh, Gods." Without thinking, Mellina scrambled off the horse, falling onto her back as she did so.
Jaime laughed out loud, dismounting skillfully and grabbing her by the ankle before she could run for camp.

"Easy, easy girl" He chuckled, batting off her attempts to kick him like they were nothing. "Just calm down."

"The Queen will know." the maid gasped, her heart suddenly pounding. "Her Grace, she trusted me, she's done so much for me, and now I'm here with you and she'll be so angry."

Hot tears began to stream down her face as she began to panic. Jaime paled, not expecting this to go this badly as he attempted to shush her sobs.
"No, no, no, Darling. Just listen, just listen" He tried to grab herr attention. "Look, we'll go back to camp. We'll see my sister. Everything will be okay; I swear to you."

Not quite believing him and half convinced her mistress would abandon her here in the wilderness as soon as she heard, Mellina wiped her tears and nodded.

Jaime gathered the maid up in his arms and guided her back to the horse, ferrying them both back to the travel party.
He did his best to hide Mellina's distress from everyone else as they approached the queen's royal caravan.

"Enter." Cersei turned eagerly as her brother entered, giddy to see how her plan unfolded before her face fell. "What happened?"
Jaime opened his mouth to explain but before he could, Mellina fell to her knees and bowed lowly.

"Your Grace," She sobbed into the ground. "I'm so sorry, I have failed you and betrayed you. I am not worthy of your mercy, but I beg for it all the same."
"I-" Cersei stared at Jaime who shook his head, shrugging helplessly. "Jaime, what did you do?"
"Exactly what you told me to do, I swear." Jaime insisted,

"Oh" Cersei's mind clicked with understanding and an amused smile crept across her face. "Oh, Mellina. You stupid little thing. Get up."
Mellina obeyed, wiping her tears as the Queen knelt to look at her.

"Mellina, I sent you out with Jaime *hoping* he would seduce you."
"What?"
"Yes, sweetling." She laughed, "You've been so good for me these last few weeks, and I wanted to reward you. You foolish girl, look at you worked up over nothing. Don't you feel ridiculous?"

She did. Ridiculous and embarrassed and ashamed.

"Ser Jaime, I owe you an apology." She couldn't meet his eye, "Her Grace told me to trust you and instead, I took you for a villain. Please forgive me?"
"I suppose I can." The knight nodded. "Though you did leave me in quite an uncomfortable position."

"Oh," a blush flooded the maid's face again. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetling" Cersei placed a hand on the top of her head, fingers entwining themselves in the maid's soft curls, "You aren't thinking of denying my reward for you, are you?"
"I-" The words caught in her throat. "Your Grace, I-. But-"

"Jaime, come here." Cersei beckoned her brother closer, leaning in to whisper in the maid's ear, "You haven't quite earned the privilege of my bed yet. Treat Ser Jaime as you would me."
Her instructions were clear, and if it pleased her mistress, Mellina was more than happy to comply.

Cersei's nimble hands reached forward to undo the laces of Jaime's trousers, pushing her servant forward to do the rest as she returned to the chaise with an eager gleam in her eye.

"Have you ever bedded a man before?" Jaime asked and Mellina nodded. It had only been once, but you remembered how everything worked.

Peeling through layers of fabric, she freed the knight's semi-hard cock from his small clothes and scooted closer to him on her knees. A deep rumble of a groan filled the caravan as Mellina took the tip in her mouth, sucking gently before taking more and more length down her throat. Before long, the tip of her bird-like nose was buried in the patch of fine blond hair at the base.

"Gods" Jaime breathed, a hand reaching down to grasp at her chestnut hair. "Gently, darling gent-" His words caught in his throat as she drew her tongue up the length of him before swiftly taking it whole, gagging to accommodate it.

The taste of salty pre-cum coated her taste buds and she hummed with satisfaction.
"That's enough."

Mellina paused her ministrations when her mistress cut in sharply.

"Jaime," she crooned lowly, "Don't be greedy."

Jaime sighed, his brow already shining with perspiration as he withdrew his cock from the maid's throat, a thin strand of saliva hanging from her lips as she gazed up at him.

"The queen is right, sweetling." He sighed, guiding her up by the tip of her chin. "This is supposed to be your reward, not mine."
Eagerly, Mellina allowed him to unlace her bodice and aided him in removing her skirt and small clothes.

"Excited little thing, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling her in for a deep kiss. His tongue prodded at her plump lips pleadingly until she parted them, making sure to explore his mouth as much as he did hers.

He growled at this, unaccustomed to not being the dominant one, but she responded by sharply nipping his lower lip and grinning. He pulled away with a challenged look as if calculating his next move.

"Come here" He spat, spinning the maid around and pulling her soft back flush against his chest, one hand snaked to err throat as the other danced across her ample breasts. His calloused fingers grazed over her nipples, which responded eagerly as he palmed the softness of her breasts.

"Look" He breathed in her ear, rubbing his hips against Mellina's round ass as he had in the field. "If you'd been a good girl, we'd have had privacy. Now look at you, about to be fucked in front of your queen."

The maid moaned at this, biting her lower lip and closing her eyes as he chuckled against her shoulder. His hot breath grazed the most sensative spot of her neck and made her ache for the rest of his mouth on it.

"Or maybe you like this better? Tell me, how long has it been since you've been properly fucked, hm? Years, perhaps?" His hand wandered between her legs once more, no longer hampered by layers of clothing, locating the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew drove women wild.

"That's right sweet girl," He breathed, firmly pressing his fingers against her clit. Mellina's body tensed and her hips didn't know if they should chase the pleasure of his fingers or flee the intensity of the electricity building between her legs.

"Now now, you stay right there." Jaime growled, firmly directing her bucking hips back against him and rubbing harder.
One hand tweaking her hard nipples and the other pressing her ass against the knight's cock as it circled her clit, Mellina knew she wouldn't last long like this. Your thighs trembled and tried to tighten around his hand, which only made him tease her more.

"Look at this sister, only a few minutes and her body is begging for release. Is that what you want, sweetling? To cum in front of your mistress?"

"Gods, yes! Please, please, please." Mellina begged, skin slick with sweat.

"What a sweet girl, begging so nicely for us." Jaime cooed, sucking on the crook of her neck with a humming laugh. "What do you think, sister?"

Mellina looked up and saw her mistress's face alight with excitement, her own thighs squeezing together as she watched the show her brother put on for her.

"I think....not"

The maid whined when Jaime all at once withdrew his touch from her body.
"Take her to the bed. I want to watch her cum around you." Cersei requested and Jaime gladly obliged.

"Tell me, sweet sister," Jaime hummed, watching Cersei leave her chaise to meet him at the bed where he deposited her play thing's aching, desperate body. "How would you like your little slave fucked?"

"Bend her over" Cersei demanded without hesitation, cupping Mellina's face almost gently as Jaime flipped her on her stomach. "I want to watch your face when he fucks you."

Her words drove another spike of need between Mellina's legs as Jaime spread her thighs and thrust into her dripping cunt without preamble. The sudden intrusion made the maid instantly clench around him and claw at the bedding desperately as he drove into her over and over.

"Look at me." Cersei cooed, watching the maid's brown eyes dart rapidly trying to find her, "Gods, you look so pretty like this. How does he feel inside of you? What I would give to fuck you like this."
Her hands petted her hair, damp and clinging to her neck and forehead with sweat. When Cersei spoke to her like this, it was like the whole world melted away and became an extension of the queen. Even Jaime, especially Jaime, was just an extension of her and her will.

She was the one who was fucking Mellina right now, and it was her who made the muscles in the maid's core snap as waves of pleasure washed over her.
When Mellina's body began to spasm under him, Jaime could only hold back long enough to pull out as quickly as he possibly could, coating her ass and back with ropes of cum. His weight collapsed on top of her for a moment, both of them breathing heavily.

Both of them felt like they'd been fucked by someone who hadn't even touched either of them.

Cersei rose off the bed and tossed a rag at Jaime before leaning over her maid again, peppering soft kisses over her still sensitive skin.
"Good girl, sweet girl, how wonderful you've been for me." she purred.

Chapter Text

The journey from that point was infinitely more pleasant. Not only because of the infinitely improved dynamic between herself, her mistress, and her brother but also because Mellina had finally mastered the basics of riding on her own.

"Ride by me today" Jaime advised her, acutely aware of the mounting tension between the maid and Clegane. "Sometimes it best to just steer clear of men like him."

It was stretching the bounds of protocol, a handmaid riding this close to the leader of the gold cloaks and a member of the royal family, but she knew no one would question it if the queen approved.

It had been almost 3 weeks since they had departed Kings Landing, and Winterfell was only a few days away by now. The North was a beautiful country, much more sparsely populated than The South, and the inns grew farther and fewer between.

Some nights they camped out off the road and some nights they rode straight through without sleep.

By the final inn before reaching Winterfell, Mellina was eager for sleep. She ate with the other servants in the dining hall that had been cleared for the royal party, but keep glancing up at the head table, constantly gauging if she was needed.

The king had been drinking far too much, growing loud and boisterous in a way that clearly embarrassed the queen, who took long drinks from her goblet with a deep frown.

When Cersei left the high table, Mellina rose to follow her quickly.
"Shall l draw a bath, your grace?" the maid asked, knowing a hot bath was one of the best ways for her mistress to relax.

"No," she said shortly, "Just help me undress, we will be sleeping early tonight."

"Surely, Your Grace" Mellina fumbled with the silken scarves and gown, more catching than undressing as the queen stripped with haste.

"Lock the door" she snapped. "Firmly"

Mellina obeyed cooly, trying to maintain calm in the face of the Queen's obvious frustration.

They passed the evening in silence, the queen switching between pacing and sitting on the bed until the sun sank and the sky went black.

Before long, there was a heavy shuffling outside the door.
It sounded as if someone was pressing their weight against the wall for support as they stumbled down the hall. Cersei stiffened and eyed the door cautiously.

"Your Grace?"
"Be quiet" she snapped in a harsh whisper.

The footsteps stopped outside the door and the door handle tried to turn, stopping firmly against the lock. There was another, harder turn followed by a violent jerking of the door against its hinges.

For a moment there was a heavy, tense silence before the room was full of the sound of cracking wood and squealing metal.
Mellina screamed at first, stumbling back in fear as King Robert ruefully examined the damage.

"Is that any kind of welcome for your king?" He rumbled, slurring his words.

"You're drunk" Cersei growled lowly. "Leave my room."

"No" Robert stumbled over to where she sat, leaning against whatever was available to steady himself. "Tonight, I will be with my wife."

Mellina stared with large, frightened eyes at the exchange, but Cersei looked more annoyed than frightened.
"No, you've had too much to drink, there would be no point."

"You!" He wagged a sausage-like finger in her direction "Are my wife, and you will do as your King commands!"

Cersei looked him up and down a moment with disapproving eyes. "Mellina, leave us."

"But Your Grace!"

Her sharp green eyes flashed at the maid, "Did I say stand there and talk back? No, I said *Go*"

"Oh, let her stay if she wants" Robert half laughed, "Don't think I don't know you've been showing her your favors already."
Cersei drew in a long breath. "Out. Now"

Mellina hesitated a moment before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her.

To her surprise, she found Jaime stationed outside the door, face grim as a funeral. They stared at each other a moment before he sighed.
"This doesn't happen very often, not like it used to anyway" he assured her.

Mellina frowned deeply, "It's not right."

"No" Jaime agreed, "it's not."

The maid waited dutifully beside the know, both trying to block out the sounds emanating from within the room. It did not last long, maybe 10 minutes.
When it was over, Robert came bumbling out and down the hall, not even noticing her or Jaime watching him go.

"Mellina" the voice that crawled its way through the door was laced with venom. "Come. Here"

She swallowed hard but peered into the room before entering. Cersei was still clothed but her robe was rumpled, her golden locks a tousled mess in the back. Her face was drawn in tight, angry lines.

"Your Grace."

Her head whipped to the side sharply, and then to the other side just as hard. Cersei's ringed fingers left red welts and small cuts across the maid's cheeks as she began to tremble.

"Don't you *ever*, in your pathetic life, question me again." The Queen grabbed a handful of her maid's curly hair and shook her violently. Her face was twisted into a mask of rage and disgust as she shook her again harder. The yelp Mellina let out prompted Jaime to enter and blanched at the sight.

"I ought to have you lashed for your insolence, do you hear me?!"

"Yes, your grace." She sobbed, feeling some of the hairs at the back of her head begin to pull out of her scalp. "I'm so sorry, please I beg your forgiveness."

"Beg all you like." Cersei threw her maid to the ground and watched as she scrambled backward. "I want you out, I don't want to see your face or hear your voice until we reach Winterfell. Do you hear me?!"

Mellina nodded in silence, fumbling to get to her feet and flee before she could face worse punishment.

Jaime watched her go with a blank expression before turning back to Cersei.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Shut up"

Jaime sighed, "It wasn't her fault, you know. She just didn't want to leave you alone."

"What she wants" Cersei growled. "Is irrelevant. She is here to serve *me* and obey *me*. If she can't do that, what is she good for?"

Jaime pulled an amused face and looked back at the door Mellina fled through "I can think of a few things."

"Fine" Cersei spat at him, "take the little whore into your bed for the night, see if I care."

Meanwhile, in her flight, Mellina found herself by the stables once again. She all but collapsed into an empty stall, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing thoughts.

She didn't mean that.
Yes, yes, she did. It was clear as the nose on her face.
No

The maid sobbed into her hands, hoping the hay she sat on would swallow you whole.
------------------------------
Sandor never slept well.

He awoke at even the smallest sounds, and when you were traveling with over 600 people on the King's Road, there were many, many sounds.

So when he couldn't sleep, he walked.

When he had walked everywhere there was to walk 3 or 4 times, he headed towards the stables.

Chances were Stranger was still awake as well.

The stallion didn't do well around strangers and other horses, not without his rider there to assure him all was well.

The torches in the stable were still burning despite the grooms being gone for the night, as he didn't bother knocking to announce himself.

Stranger was awake in his stall, stomping his feet lightly in agitation.

Must be a rat, Sandor thought gloomily, approaching to check but stopped him his tracks as he into the stall next to Stranger's.

The body nestled in the hay looked like a wounded animal that had crawled its way out of a fight. For a moment he thought she'd been attacked and left there, but stopped when she began to move.

She wasn't knocked out, she was sleeping, he thought with an internal sigh of relief followed by a flash of annoyance.

What kind of idiot girl falls asleep alone in the stables this far from home?

There was no way for him to check her over without waking her, but he could tell she'd been beaten pretty badly.

It wasn't uncommon for the Lannisters to have their servants lashed for minor infractions. Sandor was sure that had he been a meeker man, Joffrey would have tried to have him whipped if he thought Sandor wouldn't kill whoever welded the lash.

But this wasn't a lashing, most of the battering had been focused on her face. From what he could see Mellina had a split lip, a black eye, and a nasty gash across her brow.

Fuck, he thought. Did the queen do that? The king maybe? The Kings Slayer?

She certainly didn't do it herself.

With a grumble, Sandor found he couldn't make himself turn around and leave the maid there.

Too much could happen, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to justify it to himself if she didn't wake up tomorrow because he's left.

"Fine" he growled to the open air, pulling up a sturdy-looking bench to sit out and leaning against the stall door.
-----------------------------
Jaime wandered out into the night, knowing better than to call out Mellina's name but at a loss where to look first.

He followed the torchlight from the stable and found Sandor Clegane sitting on a bench in front of one of the stall doors, sharpening his sword.

"Clegane" he called, "have you seen-?"

Clegane flashed him a look and raise a finger to his lips, jerking his head at the stall behind him.

Jaime peered over the door as he got closer and saw the maid curled up tightly in the straw, face still damp with tears.

"Cried herself out," Clegane grumbled. "Stupid girl didn't have the sense not to fall asleep where anyone could find her."

"I'll take her in" Jaime shook his head, but Clegane jammed his foot again the stall door as the knight tried to open it.

"Why don't you just leave her be?" The Hound growled. "The both of you."

"What exactly are you implying?" Jaime jutted his jaw in indignation and The Hound stood up, towering over him.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He pushed but didn't elaborate further.

Jaime considered this a moment and smirked coldly. "Fine then. A good night to you both"

Clegane watched him go before sitting back down and returning to his blade, keeping a careful eye on each person who walked past the stable.

At dawn, Mellina rose when the sky was still grey, and the sun was engulfed in clouds. A few souls stirred in the chilled morning air and she tried to assess where exactly she was.

In a horse stall, thankfully a clean one.

A deep growl of a yawn pulled her attention, and she sucked in a breath. Sandor Clegane had fallen asleep with his chin tucked into his chest, hand still wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

He blinked a moment, scanning this ground with his eyes before glancing over the stall door at her and frowning.

"What kind of stupid girl falls asleep out in the open like that?" Were the first words out of his mouth.

Mellina flushed with embarrassment, both that he had found her and because he'd say up making sure no one else did.

"Thank you, ser."
"I'm not a ser, don't call me that" he yawned again, "Come here."

Mellina stepped forward and flinched as he grasped her chin, running a thumb over her purplish swollen cheeks. The cuts had scabbed over but the large ones on her lip and brow looked red and angry.

"I've seen worse" he sniffed "Make yourself useful and fetch me some water, will you?"

Mellina moved to go but paused, replaying the events of last night in her mind.

"What is it?" Sandor rolled his eyes as you turned back to him.

"I- I think I got sacked last night," she said blankly. "I think the queen might have dismissed me?"

Sandor shrugged. "Good, that means you can help get the horses set."

Mellina gaped at him a moment and he gave an exasperated sigh.
"Come on, if you're going to ride a horse you should know how to saddle one"

Chapter Text

As Winterfell grew larger in the distance, Sandor cast a sideways glance Mellina's way. It has been days since she'd spoken a single word to anyone.

She had taken to sleeping near the horses, particularly the mare that became her regular mount. When she didn't sleep, she clung to Clegane like a shadow. Over three days Mellina watched him tend and saddle not just his horse, but those of the royal family. For 3 days she learned by watching in silence, like a looming spirit.

At first, he tried to shake the maid off, ordering her to do chores far away from him, but at the end of each day, she still found herself next to him.
It was because no matter where she went, no matter what she did, there was a cloying sense of being watched that followed her every waking minute of her day. The instinctive sense of being watched like prey being stalked by a predator.

Sandor sensed it too and told her as much.

"She'll send for you soon" he asserted, "When she does, don't try to defend yourself. Don't make excuses. Just apologize and move on."
Mellina nodded and continued whatever work she had been doing at the time.
__________
Jaime gazed at his sister, who was lost in thought. Her beautiful mouth was twisted into a look of dissatisfaction as she watched her maid scurry back and forth from task to task.

Tyrion was settled with a thick tome and mug of ale, watching his siblings' wordless interaction with mild interest.
.
"What's happening here?" He inquired, moving his fingers between Jaime and their sister "This wouldn't have to do with that plump little handmaid you two have been sharing, does it?"

Jaime sighed, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes our sister acts very much like a little child."

"I don't disagree" Tyrion closed the book in his lap, "But in what capacity are we speaking?"

Jaime's eyes tracked Cersei's gaze to Mellina as she carried an armload of kindling for a fire toward Sandor's tent.

"She seems to think if she throws away a toy, it will still be there when she wants it back again."
--------
"You don't have to do that" Sandor took the kindling bundle from Mellina roughly.

There was a long silence as she gripped the kindling harder, so he actually had to pry it from her hands, letting them fall slack at her sides.

"I need to be of help."

Sandor froze. Those were the first words she'd said in three days.
Mellina approached him firmly and took back the bundle before dropping it at the circle of stones by the tent.

"I need to be of help, or else I don't know what to do with myself, so just-" She drew a deep sigh and began to arrange the timber carefully. "Let me do this, okay?"

Sandor rolled his eyes irritably but didn't stop her. A helpful pest was better than an unhelpful one.

He was acutely aware of the eyes that followed the two of them since she'd started shadowing him. Muffled whispers that vanished as soon as he glanced up and set his hard eyes in their direction.

"You know what they're saying about you, right?" He pressed the maid one night.

"That they think I'm fucking you?" She glanced up at him through the fire she was tending. The flames flickered in her dark eyes as the air grew tense between them.
He wasn't expecting her to be so blunt about it, forgetting for a moment the maid was still baseborn, not a wilting high-born flower.

"Yes, I'm very aware. Does that bother you?"

"Not as much as it should bother you."

"Why?" she laughed, "What reputation do I have to protect? Contrary to what you may think, I am capable of taking care of myself when I need to."

Sandor considered this a moment. "Who are you?" He asked finally "Where did you even come from?"

"Flea Bottom" Mellina shrugged.

"And how did a girl from Flea Bottom come to be the favored handmaid to the queen?"

"I told you" Mellina smiled a little bitterly, "I need to be helpful. And people like helpful people. Especially when they stay out of the way, are always on hand, and know how to keep their mouth shut."

The answer was vague, but it was clear it was the only one he was getting.

"Well, since we're being honest." Sandor sat by the fire with a skin of ale, getting on her level even if he still towered over her. "What is it with you and the queen? Are you really that cunt stuck with her that you're sticking around even after she sacked you?"

Mellina thought on this for a moment. "I remember the first time I saw Her Grace" she began. "She had just married Robert, I was barely 17. And I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. No, I KNEW it. And I was like a moth to a flame, everywhere she went, I went. Whatever she needed, I was there. I don't think she even noticed at first. It wasn't until very recently when I was allowed to tend her bedroom that she knew I actually existed. And Gods, I was so happy when she did. I don't know why she chose to favor me, I really don't. All I knew was she might as well have been the sun, that's how important she is."

"Hm," Sandor has been listening intently before scoffing "until she beat the seven hells out of you."

Mellina chuckled darkly, "You know....as pathetic as this is, even now my day starts and ends with her."

"So, when did you start sleeping together?"

"Oh, we never did."

Sandor choked on his ale, sputtering and trying to catch his breath. "Pardon?"

"No, she never touched me. Not like that. I desperately wanted her too but she said I hadn't earned it so it just never happened." She left out the reward Cersei had granted her, not wanting to drag Ser Jaime into this.

"All this time, everything you just said, and she hasn't even touched you?" He gaped incredulously. "I'm not going to say what I'm thinking, because I'm sure you already know."

The maid blushed fiercely and turned her face away from him. "Yes, you've made your opinion very clear, thank you."

"Gods" Sandor breathed. "If you're this mad for someone who hasn't even touched you, I can't imagine what you'll do when someone fucks you."

"Ser Clegane!" She scolded him, face growing redder "My devotion is not contingent on that, thank you very much. Besides, it's not like I haven't already, you know."

"Really?" Sandor blinked. "I just assumed."

"Just because maiden is in the name, doesn't mean I need to be one," she grumbled. "I want to talk about something else."

"Fine" Clegane smirked. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why aren't you a knight?" Mellina asked "Your father was, your brother is, and I know plenty of people have offered to knight you. So why aren't you?"

"Hm, easy" Sandor passed her the skin of ale, which Mellina took willingly and took a hard swallow. It was strong but didn't burn as badly as she expected. "Because knights are cunts"

"But your father and brother-"

"Especially my father and brother."

Mellina nodded with vague understanding and the two of them settled into silence. The hair on the maid's neck pricked up again. She was being watched again.

It was like a predator watching a rabbit, she was almost afraid to move.
Mellina found herself wondering if she even wanted the queen to call on her.
Of course, she did, right?

After all, she had traveled across the continent for her. she'd seen to her every comfort in a way that looking back, was almost obsessive. The maid had even allowed her brother to take her to bed to make her grace happy, not that Mellina didn't enjoy it.

So why this uncertainty?
-----------
"You know, there's no guarantee she'll even want to come back."

"Don't be ridiculous" Cersei spat, internally struggling with her brother's words. She had honestly expected her maid to come crawling back the morning after she had sent her away.

Instead, Mellina had attached herself to The Hound of all people.

It could be worse.

She could have left completely.

"Just bring her to me."

Jaime nodded slowly and left the tent to retrieve the maid from Clegane's fireside.

Cersei bit at the cuticles on her thumb and cross her free hand over her chest.

"Your Grace?"

She turned, tucking her hand into her chest.
"Mellina, come in."

Her curtsey was deep but hesitant.
"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," the queen nodded. "I want to put the nastiness at the inn behind us."

Mellina nodded slowly but distrustfully, "Whatever your grace wishes."

"Good" Cersei looked to the plush bed in the corner. Not as lavish as her bed in kings landing, but worlds away from the hay bales and blankets Mellina had been sleeping on. "You smell of smoke and horses, I've already ordered a bath be drawn."

"I-"

"Don't argue" Cersei cut her off swiftly. "Undress"

Mellina obeyed, slowly stripping to her shift as a large tub was delivered through the tent by a team of squires followed by buckets of steaming water.

"Come here, sweetling" Cersei waited until the bath was full and the tent flaps firmly closed before reaching out to her maid.

Mellina's pulse was pounding. She had expected to arrive and be whipped, or at least scolded fiercely and dismissed once more.
Instead, Cersei's clever fingers were carefully stripping off her worn shift and small clothes as she breathed sweet praise in her ear.

"You've been such a good girl for me" she cooed "Anyone else would have abandoned me, but not you. You stayed until I called for you, just as I said I would."

Had she said that?

Mellina struggled to remember, the scent of the queen's perfume and the shine of her hair hypnotizing her.

Guiding her maid slowly to the tub, Cersei continued her praise as she slowly pushed Mellina into the water.
The warmth was an instant relief to your muscles, which were tight from tending the stables and sleeping on the ground.

A low moan that she didn't bother to stifle escaped the maid's lips and Cersei grinned.

"There now, isn't that so much better?" Her hands slipped to Mellina's shoulders. "Much better than those stables and..." she led off. "Sweetling, you've been spending an awful lot of time with my son's sworn sword, haven't you? That Hound, Clegane."

She swallowed, "Yes, Your Grace, I suppose I have."

"You haven't-? You haven't allowed him to."

Her meeting took the maid fully and she blushed.
"Oh! Oh, no, Your Grace. Never. He actually spent most of the time trying to get rid of me."

"Oh, poor thing" Cersei almost purred, pleased that her plaything's attentions hadn't strayed.
Cersei's hands drifted down from her shoulder, tracing the slight divot of her collarbones down to the tops of her full breasts. Mellina's nipples began to harden with anticipation just under the waterline.

"Your Grace," She breathed only to be shushed softly.

"Lean back" she tilted Mellina's neck back, exposing her throat fully, "Your hair is a mess. I won't tolerate a grubby handmaid."

Obediently Mellina allowed her hair to be soaked and scrubbed, tough knots carefully detangled and combed through.

"There now" The queen purred, her lips lingering painfully close to the maid's neck. "So much better."

An ache began to grow between her legs and the queen chuckled as the water rippled with Mellina's thighs as they squeezed together.

"My brother is right" she teased, "you do get worked up easily. Shall I bring him in here for you?"

The maid whined eagerly at this, casting her eyes to look up at her Queen pleadingly.

"No," Cersei shook her head, "No, I think I want you all to myself tonight. But he is right outside, and I want him to hear your sweet noises when I fuck you. Can you do that?"

She nodded fervently. "Yes, Your Grace"

A single hand dipping below the water, obscured by the hazy steam wafting off the surface. A finger began to trace the outline of a nipple, slowly dragging the edge of her nail over the bumps and ridges before swiftly pinching and rolling it between two fingers.

"Fuck" Mellina let out a strangled gasp, a bolt shooting between her thighs.

"That's right sweetling," Cersei's purrs turned to growls, "let him hear you."

Latching her lips to the junction where the maid's shoulder met the soft skin of her throat and slipping a second hand beneath the bath water, Cersei coaxed a chorus of whines and moans from Mellina's lips, while keeping her eyes trained on the edge of the tent flap.

Mellina wasn't sure when her body had left the bath, but she knew the sudden cold air made her skin prickle and her body press against the queen for warmth.

"Hands and knees, just like that. Good" Cersei panted her instructions, hands slinking down the maid's wet body, one hand keeping busy with her nipples while the other traced over the plush softness of her stomach to the swell of her hips. Gently she pressed her spine to arch and present her ass like an animal in heat.

Mellina's face pressed to the floor, wet knees struggling not to slip, she felt the ridges of the queen's knuckles drag up and down her slit, gathering the slick juices that began to coat her lips.

"Look at you, already drenched and ready. Your body was made for this" Cersei slipped a finger into her eager cunt, reaching deep before pulling out and leaving her gasping.

"Sweet girl" she cooed, tracing Mellina's face with the wet finger before pressing it to her lips and prompting the maid to suck her own juices off the queen's hand.

"Who does this body belong to?" The queen growled, removing her finger and pressing her claws into the flesh of the maid's hip.

"You, your grace."
"Louder."

The slap left her ass stinging, remembering the queen hadn't removed her rings before attacking her body.

"You, Your Grace" she repeated louder, flushed knowing someone was listening. A drawn-out moan was forced from Mellina's chest as the queen plunged two fingers into her cunt to reward her obedience.

She didn't pull them all the way out as she fucked the maid, instead keeping them deep inside to find that rough, spongy spot that made her hips buck and thighs shake.

"Right here?" Cersei mewled teasingly, pressing harder and stroking the woman's g-spot as her cunt clenched around her fingers tightly.

"Yes! Yes, please, please don't stop" Mellina begged.

"Please who?"

"Please, Your Grace. My Queen. Mistress, please don't stop!" the maid's thighs trembled uncontrollably, the coil of muscle deep in her body threatening to snap at that moment.

"You're so close, darling" Cersei leaned in to whisper in Mellina's ear. "So very close."

Her free hand grabbed the back of the maid's neck, pinning her face hard into the ground as she quickened the paces of her fingers, adding a third and grinning triumphantly as a helpless wail of pleasure filled the tent.

Mellina's hips bucked freely, desperately riding out her orgasm on the Queen's fingers as she continued to draw slow, almost gentle circles before pulling out.

"Good girl, sweet girl, no no no, you're not finished yet" The queen slapped Mellina's face gently, reveling in this dazed look behind her eyes.

The bed sunk under your weight as the queen pushed her back into the cushions.
Mellina's legs and hips half dangled over the edge as Cersei settled herself between her spread thighs.

"Touch your breasts for me, darling" she instructed the maid and purred when she obeyed, "Don't be gentle, that's right. Harder. Good girl"

Keening whines filled the tent with each pinch and pull of her tender nipples, regularly licking her fingers to keep the friction steady as Cersei spread her cunt with her fingers and admired her work.

A single long lick up your slit was all the warning the maid received before she brutally ravished her clit.

Mellina cried out and tried to roll her hips but found herself pressed to the cushion firmly as the queen alternated steady pressure on her over-sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless bites and pressed nails into the soft insides of her thighs.

Her second orgasm came as a surprise, with no build-up like the first one, only a sudden shock of blind pleasure that drew loud gasps and moans with every other breath.

Cersei did not stop after the second, or even after the third orgasm, working her maid's body until she was sweating and almost recoiling from her touch.
Mellina's body was on fire and her abdomen throbbed with pleasure.

"One more, sweetling." She promised. "You can do that for me, can't you? Just one more"

Mellina sobbed but nodded, chest heaving as her fists gripped the bed like it was the only thing keeping her from drifting away.

"Good girl, wonderful girl" Cersei praised. "Taking everything, I give you so well. Oh," she purred, buzzing at the sight of tears streaming down the maid's cheeks.
Mellina's cunt tightened around the queen's fingers once more, leaving her jerking and yelping until a final burst of pleasure tore through her body like wildfire.
She was sure the maid's pitiful cries had been heard all over the camp and she tittered with satisfaction as Mellina sucked her cum off Cersei's royal fingers.
"That's it, yes. You did so well. Are you tired? I know. You may sleep with me tonight, just this once."
--------
Jamie's grip on his sword was so tight his hand shook in his glove. He could only imagine what was going through the head of Clegane, who his sister ordered to be stationed at the other tent entrance. Taking a few deep breaths, Jaime tried to calm himself and found himself grateful that steel armor didn't tent as easily as his trousers did.

Chapter Text

"Are you happy now?" Robert raged as Cersei gazed dispassionately at him. "It's not enough you bring your whore across the fucking continent; you have to make a show of fucking her in front of the whole camp?"

"You don't bother to hide your infidelities" Cersei glowered, "why should I hide mine?"

"You humiliated me!" Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table, pouring himself another helping of strong ale.

Cersei simmered in silence. She knew what she did was foolish, but the satisfaction of the court knowing King Robert was the cuckold for once was almost worth it.

"It was an offense to The Faith, not to mention High Treason! I should have both your heads on pikes"

"Robert, please. It's not like she can father my bastards as your mistresses have."

Robert's bloated face blanched at this, and Cersei rolled her eyes.
"Oh, don't act like it was some big secret."

Robert's rage returned, further fueled by indignation.
"Out of my sight, woman. Before I have you scourged in front of the whole camp."

She left willingly, knowing exactly where she would find Mellina.
Jaime had been charged with keeping her company while Cersei received her tongue-lashing, and the queen found the two of them at play like a couple of teenagers.

"Sister" Jaime grinned, his strong arm pressed against the maid's soft one as the two of them held a thin candle between their forearms. "You're just in time to watch this little minx lose."

"How are you?" Mellina ignored Jaime's taunts as the flame grew closer to their skin. "What did he say? Am I to be sent away?"

"I don't know. He didn't say much of consequence, he mostly just blustered." Cersei poured herself a glass of wine and watched the flame between their arms sink lower. Jaime was starting to sweat now.

Mellina frowned, unsatisfied.

As it had turned out, Cersei's little exhibition had spread through the camp like wildfire. The maid received looks ranging from awe to disgusted from everyone she passed the morning after, and certain people wouldn't even look her in the eye anymore.

"Just ignore them, sweetling." Cersei had said. "They don't matter."

To Mellina's great relief, Sandor didn't seem to care at all. All he said when he heard was "It's about time."

Sandor had become something of a comfort to Mellina this past month, and while he tried to treat her with mostly indifference, it was clear he was partial to her as well.

"FUCK" Jaime cursed as the flame reached his skin, flicking wax off his forearm and rubbing the bright red skin soothingly. "Have you no sense of pain?"

She didn't answer, only smiling coyly and kissing the burn on his flesh. "Poor baby"

"I should finish packing your things, Your Grace." Mellina sighed, standing and brushing grass off her dress. "We'll reach Winterfell by this afternoon."
Cersei took her arm before she left and pulled the maid into a tender, lingering kiss, before reluctantly letting her go.

The last stretch of the ride was surprisingly easy. Mellina's mare had adjusted to her leadership, and the maid's body had grown accustomed to the long distances.

"Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be riding next to Queen Cersei's Whore?" She teased Clegane as he mounted Stranger next to her.

"Not as embarrassing as trying to keep her little cunt of a son alive long enough to inherit."

"Sandor" The maid hushed him with a blush, fearing they would be heard. "You mustn't joke like that. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Sandor made a guttural scoffing sound and eyed the horizon.

Winterfell was truly, unbelievably massive.

It had to be, to house as many people as possible when the harsh winter inevitably fell upon the land. What were those ever-ominous house words?
Winter is Coming.

"Clegane, Waters" The king's squire rounded his horse alongside Stranger. "The King wishes to speak with the two of you, right now."

"Now?" Mellina blinked but steered her horse behind Sandor, who seemed equally skeptical as she as they neared the large, rumbling royal coach.

The King, it seemed, had opted to arrive in style rather than on horseback.

"Halt" a voice called, and Robert exited the litter, followed by an unusually tense and somber Cersei. One look at her face and one could sense something was horribly awry.

"You asked to see us, Your Grace?"

"Indeed" Robert breathed, looking very pleased with himself. "I thought the two of you ought to know, shortly after our arrival at Winterfell, the two of you are going to be married by a Septon of the Faith of The Seven. Congratulations."

Mellina very nearly fell off her horse in shock.

"Y-Your Grace, I don't understand I-"

"Young Lady," The King whipped back around, his jovial face replaced with a look of contempt. "I ought to have you stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Kings Landing for treason, do you understand that?"

His tone shocked the maid into submission and she gazed at the ground fearfully.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Instead, I'm showing you something called mercy. I'm allowing you to keep the skin on your back and solving our current issue as diplomatically as I can. You should be on your knees thanking me, instead of talking back."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very sorry." She nodded, "Thank you for showing mercy, I will strive to be worthy of it."

"And you." Robert eyed Clegane. "Bed her, ignore her, lock her in a sept somewhere for all I care. Just keep her away from my wife. She looks sturdy enough to pop out a few heirs, so that's something at least."

Sandor nodded slowly and Mellina cast her gaze on Cersei whose face was twisted into a look of utter frustration and disappointment.

As the litter took off once more, a deep coldness settled into Mellina's stomach. she should have known it was too good to be true.

"Waters?"

"I am so sorry."

"I-" Sandor paused, considering his next words. "I didn't expect that, did you?"

"No." she shook her head. "Oh Gods, Sandor I am *so* sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. If I had known-"

"He didn't kill you" Sandor cut her off. "Just be grateful for that for now."

"How are you so calm about this?" She turned to face him, "In fact, this whole trip you have been unnervingly cavalier about this whole situation. You were just ordered by your king to marry some no named Nobody from Flea Bottom whose only claim to fame is being the Queen's whore. And you don't even seem upset."

Sandor shrugged, "I've done far worse things on the orders of far worse men than Robert Baratheon. Besides, it's just marriage. I can't imagine it will change things much. On my end anyway."

It's just marriage.

Mellina thought this over a moment.
It was true, High-borns married complete strangers all the time. And it wasn't like she and Sandor were *complete* strangers.

"I guess I haven't thought about it like that." The maid nodded, somehow soothed by his lack of response. "You're right. We just need to...roll with the punches."

Mellina took off a little ahead of him, and Sandor watched her back as she went, oddly enough noting that her riding form had improved immensely.

"You took that remarkably well."

Sandor stifled an irritated groan as the Kingslayer rode up beside him.
"Fuck off"

"No, it's true. You did." Jaime insisted. "I'm impressed."

Sandor attempted to move ahead of him, but Jaime kept pace.

"Seriously though" Jamie grew more somber. "She's a sweet girl. I doubt she even fully understood what she was getting herself into. I'd hate to see her stuck in a life of misery because of this."

Sandor cast him a poisonous glare, swallowing a mouthful of insults and instead saying;
"Just because you've had your cock in her doesn't mean you know anything about her, Kingslayer."

Before sending his horse into a gallop to catch up with his new fiancée.

They arrived in Winterfell with much pomp and fanfare.

Keeping herself concealed from the main group, Mellina watched as the official greetings were exchanged, bows and curtseys, and full honors bestowed until Robert separated from the party to pay respects at the crypts.

When the king was well out of sight and there was commotion loading and unloading wagons, Cersei pulled Mellina aside.

"I did everything I could" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I thank you." Mellina wanted to take her Queen's hand. To kiss her and assure her all would be well, but she did not dare. Not now.
"Honestly, it's a better punishment than I could have dared hope."

"Indeed?" Cersei pulled a tense smile, "I thought you and Clegane weren't-"

"We..." Mellina searched for the words, "We've settled into each other. If that makes sense."

"Ah" Cersei's face was tight but tried to remain neutral, "That makes things easier then, I suppose. All the same, I'll find something for you to do in the Keep, sweetling. I won't let him win."

Mellina smiled gratefully, excusing herself to unload and carry the Queen's bags to her and Robert's shared room. Her last official task as Handmaiden to the Queen.
As she left, Cersei found herself wondering exactly which *him* she meant.

Chapter Text

The Wedding itself was rushed.
They received Lord and Lady Stark's blessing to use the Winterfell sept to perform the ceremony, and Septon Chayle was more than willing to help once he was convinced neither Mellina nor Sandor was being forced against their will.

This wasn't technically true, but honestly, it just seemed easier to go with it than fight against it. If it had to be anyone, Mellina thought as she entered the great sept decorated with carved masks of The Seven, at least it was him.

Sandor's house was too new to have a cloak to slip over his bride's back, and even if they had it would have been in the Westerlands. Instead, they used his regular riding cloak, which was warm and woolen and almost swallowed you with its size.

The king presided over the ceremony, along with Cersei who looked as if someone was sticking a knife between her ribs to keep her there. Prince Joffrey had insisted upon coming out of morbid curiosity. Perhaps he thought they would drag have to drag the bride into the sept kicking and screaming. Princess Marcella tailed her older brother, convinced the wedding would be a romantic affair.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever"

The kiss was a surprisingly soft one, Sandor's whiskers prickled Mellina's cheeks, but his lips found her almost out of instinct. They were warm and insistent. When he pulled away, she wished he hadn't.

"Congratulations, you two" Chayle nodded, gathering his official-looking robes around him. "I wish you both a long and happy life together."

"Thank you, Septon." The bride nodded politely. Sandor didn't even acknowledge him as he left, looking at the royals with hard eyes that begged the question "Now what?"

"Well now" Robert grumbled, "That's that settled then. Right?"

"Yes, Your grace." Mellina curtseyed meekly, tucking her small hand into Sandor's gloved one.

"We should give you a minute." Cersei breathed, "Come darlings, the Starks are feasting us tonight we should get ready."

The matriarch led the royal family out of the sept, the door closing with an echoing clang.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, squeezing her new husband's hand slightly. "You haven't said anything."
"Fine" He nodded, "You?"

"Good," she confirmed. "You don't think they expect us to..." she led off into the open air.

Sandor grunted, "No one's going to force you to fuck me if that's what you're worried about."

"Hey," She snapped at him, pulling his arm with surprising strength so he was facing her. He had to look down to see his wife, which made her half-angry face that much funnier. "First of all, No one could force me to do anything I don't want to do if they tried. Secondly, it's less the act of fucking you I'm worried about and more the complete lack of privacy."

"Oh," Sandor's brow arched, "Now she's worried about privacy. If you had thought of that before, we wouldn't be here."

Mellina knew he was just teasing her from his tone and bumped him with her hip slightly. "Fuck you."

The sept door opened slightly, drawing their attention as the queen slipped through the crack.

"Your Grace" Mellina breathed, moving from her husband's side to embrace her lover "Are you-?"
"I'm fine." She nodded, "Robert is satisfied. it seems we are off the hook for now."

She eyed the two of them together with a strange glow behind her eyes.

"Have you two...?" she tried to find the words, "I have arranged for a room below to be made up for you. I know it's not much of a wedding, but for the marriage to be legal you will have to-"

"We figured," Sandor grunted, seeming almost embarrassed.

"Sweetling," Cersei eyed her former maid, "would you give me a minute with your husband? Alone?"

"Oh," Mellina blinked, "I- Of course, Your Grace. I'll be outside."

The pair of them watched her go before Cersei turned to The Hound with a cold look. She wanted to blame him, yet couldn't.

She wanted to punish him for getting close to her plaything, even if it wasn't his fault.
But it would do her no good to make an enemy of him.

"Clegane, I want you to know how grateful I am for your cooperation in this."
Sandor didn't respond, not bothering to point out he didn't really have a choice in it.

"However, if the rush of things I know some details have been overlooked." Cersei continued, "How well do you know your new wife?"

"Well enough." Sandor shrugged.

"She's special, you know" Cersei impressed upon him. "As loyal as any pet and as sweet as can be. And so trusting."

Sandor's attention was on her, but Cersei couldn't tell if her words were making any impact, which was frustrating.

"If you plan to rape her tonight, I will make sure you never leave this wretched castle alive."

Sandor swallowed at this, caught fully off guard but trying hard not to show it.
"I hadn't made any such plans, Your Grace," He said stiffly, "but the night is still young."

Cersei's face twisted in rage at his implication, wanting nothing more than to have his ugly head mounted on the castle gates.
------
The room was tucked away in the lower levels of Winterfell. Mellina had expected it to be cold, but instead, it was pleasantly warm compared to the temperatures above ground.

The chamber itself was mostly empty. These rooms hadn't been used in years; the steward had assured them as they were led down the stairs by torchlight.
Later that night, when the prince was officially someone else's problem, Sandor had to duck to enter the doorway, finding his wife sitting on the large bed waiting for him.

"You'd think they'd have let you finish early, all things considered," She joked, moving to help him settle in. She had been sent down earlier, but mostly because the queen had not yet figured out what to do with her.

Mellina carefully helped him remove his plate armor bit by bit until he sighed from the weight being lifted off of him.

He hadn't spoken much; he never spoke much. But particularly now it was worrying, mostly because all she wanted was to talk her nervousness away.

"Sandor?" her hand moved from his arm to his face, "Please, talk to me. Say something, anything, if only to make me less nervous about all of this."

Sandor sighed, "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"Well." she began, "Do you want to do this tonight?"

He stopped at the question and looked at her with a skeptical expression.

"Because it's okay if you don't." she assured him, "We've been around each other for over a month and you've never tried to...Well, I just thought it you wanted to, you'd have tried by now."

He considered this a moment, sitting on a spare chair to get more on his wife's level with his legs spread out lazily. Mellina moved closer to him as his large hands guided her between them.

"You think I haven't thought about it?" He confessed, "You think all those days you spent following me around, those nights you spent sleeping in the stables I didn't imagine dragging your foolish ass into my tent and fucking that kicked puppy look off your face?"

Mellina flushed at this, leaning against his thigh hesitantly as if to ask permission before his hands gripped her soft waist and pulled her up to straddle his lap. Her toes barely scraped the floor on either side of him. Her chest pressed against his, her soft breasts giving without resistance.

It was strange, she thought for a moment. Feeling this small.

"When you let the queen fuck you so the whole camp could hear, do you really think I was the only one who wasn't imagining making you moan like that?" He leaned forward, face less than an inch from her. "You think when that fat fuck of a king said told us we'd be getting married, a part of me didn't say 'Fucking Finally'?"

Brushing her curved nose against his cheek, Mellina felt her body begin to quiver on his lap.

"Sandor" She breathed against his ear, "Gods, hold me."

He obeyed, wrapping his arms around you to press your body to his tightly. She breathed in his scent of leather and smoke, hands crawling up and down his back and shoulders to memorize every ridge and groove of his muscled body.

Slowly, she began rocking her hips against his. Grind herself against him until she felt a hardness so long it almost frightened her grow under the fabric of his trousers.

He was so warm; his body was like a furnace. Radiating heat wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as his hands stationed themselves on the swell of her hips and guided her movements.

"Sweetling" His voice was a growl, so different from the way Cersei's sweet voice taunted her. This was a rumble, deep and heavy, "Fuck, keep doing that, and we won't even make it to the bed."

Mellina whined but stopped obediently, allowing his hands to peel her off his lap and standing her on her own two feet.

"Good Girl." He smirked, eyes scanning you like a searchlight. "You have two choices, either you strip for me yourself, or I tear those clothes off of you. Your choice."

Gods did she want the second one, Mellina wanted to feel his calloused hands on her at this moment more than she wanted anything. But she only had three dresses to her name so instead she began to strip at an achingly slow pace, tightening the spring both in both their bodies and knowing it would make it feel that much better when it snapped.

"That's it, nice and slow" Sandor's hand slowly cupped his hardening cock through his pants as he took in the sight of her body, the other hand working to take off his belt and loosen his strings.

Beauty and softness were two things Sandor had never become acquainted with in this life. From a young age, he had been nurtured by stony pain and ugliness. Those had been his teachers.

But Mellina was neither of those things.
There were no sharp edges, no stubborn challenges for him to beat down.
She was soft, in all the ways a person could be. She wanted his touch as much as he wanted to touch her, begged him for it. Invited him to experience something that didn't need blades or brute force to work.

"Come here."
His bride obeyed, instinctively getting on her knees as she settled between his thighs. She purred hungrily, rubbing her face along the inside of his thigh and nestling her mouth over the imprint of his cock but waiting patiently for him to permit her to fully take him.

A growl formed in his throat like rolling thunder, his hand finding her soft, dark hair and struggling not to press her down harder.

"Please," Mellina whimpered, trying to seem as appealing as possible.
Sandor chuckled darkly at that. "Please what?"

"Please let me take your cock out." She persisted, "We've waited long enough for each other. Please don't tease me, Sandor."

The sound of her voice whining out his name, begging for him, had the Hound harder than he's ever been.
"Whatever you want."

That was all the permission she needed, quickly clawing past his small clothes and slipping the large, warm head of his cock down her throat.

Mellina reveled at the sounds she managed to coax out of him, having caught him off guard and unprepared for how eager she'd become. His grip on her hair had become painful, so she gently urged it down to the back of her neck, allowing him to scruff her like one does a pup and guide her head up and down.

"Gods" He choked out as you took his deeper.
Mellina knew he was too long for her to take fully, and so pumped the remainder of his length with her hand, allowing her other hand to wander between her legs.

The way his bride's moans vibrated around him almost sent the hound over the edge, knuckles white from gripping the arm of the chair he found himself unexpectedly trapped in.

"Fuck, Fuck!" Sandor didn't usually finish quickly, but the look in her dark eyes, as she swallowed his load, told him that had been exactly what she wanted.

Breathing heavily, he tried to catch his breath as Mellina climbed back onto his lap, cunt now drenched and dripping from touching herself for him.

"Darling" she cooed into his ears, "I haven't worn you out too quickly, have I?"

"Fuck that," Sandor growled, grip tightening around her. "You're not getting off that easily, you evil little minx."

"Good" she grinned, kissing a line up his neck along the scarred half of his face, "Because I'm not stopping until we're both half dead and sure you've fucked an heir into me."

Sandor rumbled, snatching his wife off his lap and throwing her over his shoulder like she was nothing. She laughed at this, kicking her legs eagerly as he delivered her onto the bed and pinned her plush body under his weight.

"Your precious twins told me what a sweet girl you are." He taunted her, pinning Mellina's wrists by her head. "How trusting and innocent"

He ducked his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. The heat of his tongue and the gentle pressure of his teeth made her back arch and press her breast firmer against his face.
Her moans came in sharp, quick gasps as one hand released her wrist in favor of massaging the other breast with rough, calloused palms. Her freed hand flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as she cried out.

"Do they know?" He pressed, scrapping his teeth over her tit before switching to the other side, "What an eager little slut you are? How happy you were to hop into bed with me?"

Mellina wanted to shake her head, but in truth, she wasn't sure if he was actually expecting an answer. Instead, she tried to move her mind away from them and onto your husband.

"I don't want to talk about them" She confessed, gasping as he bit down on her lightly "Oh fuck, just like that, Darling."

Sandor hummed thoughtfully at this.
"You don't want to think of them?"

"No."

"No?" Sandor shifted upwards and turned his attention from her breasts to her neck, sucking so hard it would surely bruise. He rubbed the length of his cock up and down his wife's slit teasingly.

"Then how about I fuck you so hard, you forget their names? Would you like that, sweetling?"

Mellina's moan came out as a growl as she clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on top of her.

"Answer me."

"Yes," She begged, "Gods, Sandor I can't take much more waiting."

And she didn't have to. Sandor's knees began to push Mellina's legs apart as he lifted up enough to strip off his shirt and trousers.
He was large, larger than she had previously taken, and her hesitance must have shown on her face because instead of crawling back on top of her as he planned, he instead rolled over, so she was on top straddling him.

The tip went in easy enough, but his cock grew girthier as she slid down, and by halfway Mellina found herself panting.

"Easy" He hushed, "Go slowly."

She nodded, carefully bouncing on what she could take so far. It was far more filling than any she'd taken before, and it was as if something inside of her shifted with each little bit she took.

"Fuck' Mellina whimpered; eyes twisted closed in focus "I'm not sure it'll fit."

Rough fingers found her clit, shocking her eyes open as they rolled and pressed against the sensitive bundle.
"Ah" She gasped, instinctively rolling her hips and rocking to the tempo. "Oh Gods,"

"That's it" Sandor breathed, watching as a bit more of his length sank deeper into his wife's cunt, "just relax and take it like I know you can."

Mellina's core began to tighten as his fingers pressed harder and his other hand began to guide her in sliding up and down the length of his cock, taking it a little deeper each time.

"Good girl, sweet girl" Sandor's breath was getting heavier, closing his eyes to focus and to push his release off as long as possible. "Just like that, fuck."

After thinking she had grown accustomed to his size, Mellina bounced a little harder and cried out in shock. Sandor's cock filled her to the hilt, their hips pressed together as close as possible.

"Sh, sh." Sandor wrapped one arm around her waist and one around her shoulders, shifting into a sitting position while still buried deep inside of her body "Breathe, just breathe."

"Fuck" Mellina gripped his broad shoulders, "it's. deep" She spoke between gasps. It reminded her of the first time, that unfamiliar feeling of something deep inside of her that ached so nicely. The sting took her breath away and forced her to stop and take stock of every sensation.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No." She shook her head. "No, I just need a minute."

Sandor didn't protest, instead focusing on the shifting and pulsing walls wrapped around his cock, desperately attempting to accommodate him.

"Look at me." He breathed.

Mellina obeyed, leaning back to face him fully.
It was a level of intimacy she had never experienced before or even thought possible. Him being buried so deeply inside of her as she straddled his hips. Chest to chest, both breathing heavily.

She looked him in the eye, frowning for a moment before reaching up to brush away the shaggy hair that hung over the scarred half of his face.
"There you are" She whispered playfully, trying to break the tension enough to relax. "So that's my husband."

"Gods" Sandor breathed, "You look beautiful like this."

Entwining her fingers behind his neck, Mellina rocked her hips slowly, not allowing his length to withdraw entirely before rocking back as before.
This time she kept him nestled deep inside of her as she panted and ground against him. The friction reached her clit, sending lighting through her hips and urging her forward.

Sandor groaned, feeling her clench around him as she chased err high. Her hands tangled in his hair and pressed his face to her, catching his lips and exploring each other's mouths with curious tongues and eager lips.

"Fuck" you whined into his ear, locking your arms around his neck. "I'm so close. So close, please. Gods, ah"

Her words came tumbling out as nearly incoherent ramblings, hips bucking and grinding against him desperately until a flood of pleasure filled her body, starting in her belly before spreading through her whole being.
It wasn't like with Cersei, or with Jaime. They had been fast, and brutal. Their pleasure came like a bolt of lightning hitting the back of the skull.
This pleasure came like a flash flood, filling her quickly and lingering as her muscles spasmed and tense in an unknown rhythm. It ebbed away slowly but left Mellina warm and glowing.

When Sandor realized she was cumming, he allowed himself to release deeply inside of her, flooding her womb with his seed and heat that filled his wife's stomach.
As the flood ebbed away, the two of them sat there, still connected and not wanting to separate.

"I want to stay like this," Mellina begged him in a whisper he couldn't bear to deny. "Please."
Nodding, he pulled the blanket that had fallen half off the bed over the two of them as Mellina leaned on his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke, only lulling each other into sleep with gentle touches and heavy breathing.

Chapter Text

"So, how are you coping?"

"With what?"

Jaime leaned on the back of a plainly crafted chair, gazing at his sister expectantly "You know very well with what."

"Oh," Cersei scoffed, "What's there to cope with? Everything is settled now it can go back to the way it was before."

Jaime blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.
"You don't think her being married is going to be an issue?"

"She's married to my son's sworn sword and will very likely become the mother to the heir of House Clegane." Cersei pointed out, "And while she is not technically a Lady, I think this had earned her a spot in my court. What better way to keep her close, and still let Robert think he has won?"

Jaime considered this, "She won't survive at court." He said firmly, "As a servant, maybe. But she has no experience in court outside of serving. She won't fit in and if she's allowed to be a courtier the ladies will see her presence as an insult. Especially if you show her favor."

"Then let them be insulted" Cersei was growing impatient with his refusal to see the brilliance of her plan. "Everything is working out perfectly, especially after last night."

"They might not have done anything."

"Oh no, they did," Cersei assured him. "Varys isn't the only one with little birds, you know. My sources tell me we don't have to worry about a thing."

"Your Grace?"

Cersei whipped around with a smile, "Mellina, Good morning darling."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Of course, come in. Sit with me." Cersei eyed her up and down, the glow that lingered about the new bride was all the confirmation she needed that her new plan was going perfectly.

Mellina sat near the fire rather awkwardly as Cersei's eyes assessed her. Neither one of them seemed to want to start the conversation, so Jaime jumped in boldly.

"So how was he?"

"Jaime!"

"What?"

Mellina blushed furiously at the sudden question, "I- well." she swallowed hard, "It was very...pleasant."

"Pleasant" Jaime grinned cheekily, "So what I'm hearing is I was better."

"Jaime, stop it" Cersei scolded him, "This is a delicate topic."

"Since when?"

"It was lovely" She assured them, "Honestly it was. He was very kind and very...."

"Hung?"

"Jaime!" Cersei's face was red with anger, "Out, I have had enough of you. Go swing a sword at something."

Jaime left them chuckling, off to locate whatever gutter or brothel his brother had landed in the night before.

"I'm so sorry about him."

"Please," Mellina breathed, somewhat relieved he was gone. "I expect nothing less. Now, surely you didn't call me here just to talk about my wedding night."

"Of course not, not that I'm not interested." Cersei settled into the chair her brother vacated. "I wanted to let you know that I've figured out a way for us to stay close without offending Robert."

"That's wonderful!" She beamed, "How?"

"Well, for all intents and purposes, you are Lady Clegane now. Wife of the sworn sword of Prince Joffrey Baratheon. And gods willing, mother to the future heir of House Clegane." Cersei began, "And it is, for this reason, I have decided to offer you a place in my court at King's Landing."

"A place...you mean as a courtier? Your Grace I couldn't I... I just wouldn't fit in."

Cersei leaned forward, pressing her hand on top of her lover's firmly, "You will fit in wherever I decide you belong."

Mellina's skin prickled with goosebumps as The Queen's emerald eyes bore into her dark ones.

"And if someone decides to make that difficult, I will simply have to carve out some pieces to make room for you."

Her tone was shockingly intense, and Mellina found that the hand on top of hers had begun to grip her wrist tightly.
"Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes," She nearly trembled. "Yes, your grace, I understand. Thank you so much for your help."

"You're welcome" Cersei's cold eyes flashed and suddenly seemed cheery once more. "Now, you'll need some dresses for court, consider them a wedding present. So, we will have to arrange a meeting with a dressmaker when we return south."
-------------------------
"Sandor Cle-gane." The name rolled off Tyrion's lips like a joke as he grinned coyly. "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Fuck off, Dwarf."

"No wonder you never visited the brothels in Kings Landing." Tyrion continued as if he hadn't heard him, "Can't go around giving a gift like that away for free."

"I said fuck off."

"Keep at it like that, we'll have Clegane puppies in no time."

"I will throw you, little man" Sandor roared, restraining himself from putting hands on the dwarf.

"Mother said if you and Mellina do have children," Joffrey had to jog to keep up with Sandor's stride, "Then your child can be the sworn sword of my heir with Lady Sansa."

Sandor was well over the day before it had even started. It was one thing for his life to be shit from the moment he woke up, to the moment he went to sleep. It was another to wake up to a beautiful wife pressed up against him, still breathing slowly in sleep, and having to force himself away to attend to responsibilities he didn't even want.

"Alright, leave him be." Jaime joined the parade, making Sandor roll his eyes almost to the back of his head, "Let the poor man breathe."

Joffrey sulked but slinked back towards the yard where he was supposed to be at practice with the Stark brothers, while Tyrion left to locate a pitcher of dark beer and breakfast.

"Good morning to you too." Jaime smirked, "I trust you slept well."
"If you don't lay off..."

"Touchy. Alright then, I'll leave you be." Jamie raised his hands by his head as they stopped at the stables finally. "I just wanted to thank you. For being kind to her."

"Kind to my wife, you mean?" Sandor glowered at him, growing tired of the Lannister knight constantly feeling the need to speak for you. "You want to thank me for being kind to my wife."

"Steady on, I meant nothing by-"

"Because that's what she is." Sandor cut him off, "And I think you would do well to remember that the next time her name passes your lips."

"No disrespect intended." Jaime assured him, then looked past him slightly, "Speaking of, good morning, Lady Clegane."

"I'm not technically a Lady, ser." Mellina corrected him, "Your sister wishes to speak with you if you could come directly."

"Certainly." Jamie nodded, casting his eyes up at Clegane wearily before sighing, "Well, congratulations to you both all the same."

Mellina watched the knight go before turning back to her husband, "What was that?"

Sandor shrugged, "Must not have slept well I guess." He brushed off the subject casually as his wife approached him with a sly smile, checking around to make sure no one was watching.

They were, obviously.

"I missed you this morning," she said in a hushed whisper, "I suppose I'll have to get used to rising early if I'm to see my husband off like a proper wife."

"I didn't want to wake you" He grumbled, not adding how perfect she'd looked asleep against him.

"The queen has decided I am to join the royal court at King's Landing." She informed him, anxiety edging her voice. "I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"My advice?" Sandor breathed, moving past her to tend to Stranger "Don't feel anything. Those nobles can smell fear, and if you set your expectations high, you'll only be disappointed."

"On the other hand," she continued, "It seems the only other thing people are talking about is how quickly you'll put a baby in me."

"Depends" Sandor grunted, dumping a large ration of oats into the horse's trough, "How quickly do you want one?"

"Do you want one?" Mellina asked, playing with her fingers unsurely. "I mean, any child of ours won't be likely to inherit anything. You have an elder brother."

"My brother," Sandor cringed to bring the hated man up, "doesn't seem to be in any rush to fulfill his first-born duties. My father is dead, so currently everything rests with Gregor. If he drops dead before he sires a welp that isn't a bastard, then it falls to me. So, I wouldn't say likely, but I also wouldn't say impossible."

Mellina thought about this a moment before nodding, "Better safe than sorry, I think."

"Very well then." Sandor slipped on his sturdy leather gloves and looked around, "I don't have much time, but if you don't mind the hay-"

"Shut up" She laughed, playfully shoving him.

Sandor swallowed a smile before squinting at the activity in the yard where the Stark and Lannister boys were fighting, "I really should get over there. Before those little brats get themselves killed"

"Go" she nodded, "I'll be around."
-----------------
It was strange, not having anything to do.

Cersei had decreed that most normal labors were now below Mellina's courtier station and instead had her lover tailing her most of the time as she toured the castle with Lady Stark, who nodded at her congenially.

The greenhouses were thriving, the Gods Wood heavenly, and the Great Hall large enough to host their entire entourage plus some. Mellina took everything in with interest at first, but once the good parts were over, she discovered being a lady was dead boring.

"Lady Clegane." Lady Stark addressed her directly for the first time and Mellina didn't bother to correct her about the title, "I hear you are newly married. How thrilling for you."

"It is a blessing, My lady." she nodded, "I couldn't be happier."

"They had already been engaged of course," Cersei lied through her teeth, "But it was the king's will that the wedding should take place earlier than planned. I supposed there had been so much tedium on the road, he thought we needed something uplifting to stir us."

"Oh," Lady Stark's pale blue eyes were set in surprise, "And your parents, they didn't mind?"
"Unfortunately, Lady Stark, my parents passed some time ago. Until very recently I have been quite alone in the world."

"How lovely for you then" Lady Stark gave Mellina a genuine smile. "My daughters will be joining you at court when you return, my eldest Sansa and my youngest Arya."

"I'm sure they will fit in well at court." She nodded agreeably. "Her Grace is most welcoming."

"Please, you flatter me" Cersei hooked her arm through hers, "Shall we keep going?"

"Of course, your grace." Lady Stark nodded, leading the two of them down the halls once more as the queen's hand found Mellina's and held it tightly, as though she might get lost in the cavernous castle.
-----------------------------------------
Mellina had no idea when her visit to the North took such a grim turn, but she had a sneaking suspicion it started when the queen began to task her with more and more of her children's upkeep.

"Consider it practice for your own" she assured her as she took up her cloak one evening.

Mellina knew better than to ask where she was going, even as a Lady that was beyond her station.

Between Joffery battling with Rob Stark, Tommen's near-constant skinned knees, and Marcella's whining of boredom, Mellina found herself overwhelmed with the task. It was an all-day chore and despite it being impressed upon her that she was expected to get pregnant quickly, she could find very little time for it.

"Need some company?"
Mellina looked up from monitoring Tommen and found Lady Stark standing over her.
"Oh, please." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"You know" Lady Stark looked over her shoulder. "Sometimes it helps if you let them hurt themselves just a little bit."

"Really?"

"That's the only way some children learn" she shrugged. "Take my Arya for example. It doesn't matter how many times you tell her something, if she doesn't learn the hard way, she won't learn at all. Here, watch-" she motioned to Tommen who was about to curiously touch a stinging nettle for what must have been the 10th time that day.

"Tom-"
"No, no." Lady Stark stopped her from interfering, "Let him learn on his own."
Mellina held her breath as the 5-year-old wrapped a pudgy hand around the nettle leaves and instantly cried out, more out of fear than pain.

"Oh dear" She scooped him up and placed him on her broad lap to soothe him. "There, there little prince. You're alright. I told you not to play with the nettles, darling."

Tommen sobbed briefly into Mellina's shoulder until he caught his breath and sniffed pitifully.
"There now," Lady Stark caressed his light blonde curls, "I bet you won't play with nettles again, isn't that right?"

The tot nodded ruefully and slipped off her lap to return to his carved toy soldiers.

Catelyn smiled approvingly before glancing over Mellina's shoulder and nudging her with her shoe, "You're being watched, my dear."

She glanced behind her to find her husband looming half in the shadows of the stables, eyeing her with an unreadable expression.

"Go on. I'll watch him for a bit" Catelyn goaded her with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, I couldn't do that. You shouldn't have-"

"Go." Catelyn pushed again. "I was a newlywed once. Just....make it quick."

Mellina blushed and glanced around before slipping into the stables, searching for Sandor around each corner until she found him in an empty stall in the back.

"Husband" She greeted Sandor expectantly.

"Wife" he nodded with a smirk.

"A quickie in the hay? What are we, teenagers?" Mellina joked, pressing herself up against him firmly, one hand wandering to the laces of his trousers. "I only have a few minutes; Lady Stark is manning my post."

Mellina gasped as two large hands pressed into her waist with much more care than they had the first time she found herself in a similar position.

"I can work with that," Sandor assured her, setting her on the edge of the stall divider, her back pressed against a beam while her ass balanced on the edge.

Mellina quickly raised her skirts as he fumbled with his clothes between kissing mouths and groping hands.

There was something exciting about it, she thought as her husband pushed into her with little resistance. The size of him still caught her off guard, and she bit the back of her hands to stifle a moan as he stretched her.
The chance of someone, anyone, walking in. The knowledge that she'd have to walk back out of here trying to seem as casual as possible, as if she hadn't just been fucked within an inch of her life and The Hound's cum wasn't dripping down her thighs.

"Fuck, Sandor. A little higher" she instructed him between pants, muffling her moans into the leather of his jerkin when his cock began to fuck into her at the best possible angle.

The wooden barrier she was perched on squealed under their combined weights, keeping time like a metronome.

Sandor found it easier to keep quiet during sex, but his fingers weaved themselves through her hair and gripped it tightly. Ensuring she'd have to at least try to redo it when they were done.

"Don't stop," Mellina begged him, crossing her ankles around his hips to pull him closer "So close, just keep going."

Her husband, ever eager to please, obeyed and picked up the pace. The hand on her hip keeping her balanced gripped harder into her flesh hard and Mellina knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Carefully she pushed a hand between the two of them, finding her clit with ease and rubbing fiercely with two fingers to hurry them both along.

Sandor finished first, pulling his wife tightly to his chest and muffling himself in her neck as she felt the heat of his seed fill her.

Not one to be left behind, Mellina kept her legs locked around him firmly and let her cunt milk him dry as waves of pleasure hit her like a ton of bricks.
Leaning against the beam with her husband half collapsed on her shoulder, Mellina and Sandor both took a moment to catch their breath before climbing down and trying to make themselves look presentable.

"Fuck, my hair" she laughed, pulling out stray bits of straw and opting to just take it all down and wrap it back into a bun instead. "Way to be subtle."

"Fuck you, you loved it" Sandor shot back, pulling her in for a brief kiss, "We should go before we're missed."

"I know, I-"
Mellina never finished her sentence.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air and set the entire courtyard into action.
"Oh Gods, the children!" The little prince and princess were the first thing on Mellina's mind as she dashed out of the stables, kicking up straw and dust behind her.

Tommen was with Marcella and after a quick once over, she found neither of them were hurt.
"Princess, where is the Lady Catelyn?" Mellina asked the 10-year-old who had started to cry.

"She- she went to-to find..." The princess struggled to get the words out between fearful sobs.

"Shshsh" Mellina caressed her rosy face gently and hugged her and Tommen to her, "It's okay, stay close to me."

Sandor located Joffrey quickly enough and brought him to join his siblings despite his princely objections.

"Sandor, what's happening?"

"I don't know, someone got hurt that's all I can make sense of" his hand sat on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any given moment.

A mob of at least 10 men came barreling through the courtyard and they all watched as the Winterfell Maester rushed past with a look of grim dread spreading across his aged face.

The whispers around her began to take on more and more detail.

Stark boy
Climbing
Fall
Dead

"Oh Gods" Mellina gripped the children as the mob came back, slowly toting a cot on their shoulders that bore the scant body of a boy no more than 10. "Children, don't look. Don't"

Catelyn Stark, who the whispers said found the boy at the base of an unused tower, followed the procession supported by her eldest boy and the Winterfell ward, Theon Greyjoy.

Her body was ghostly white and nearly limp as her wails echoed through the yard and raised the hairs on Mellina's neck.

"That poor, poor woman" she breathed solemnly. "Come children, we should find your mother."

Cersei, for some reason or another, proved strangely hard to track down. When Mellina did find her, she looked oddly tense.

"Your grace," She breathed, "There's been a terrible accident."

Mellina recounted the scene in the courtyard, which the queen received with an almost expressionless face.

"How dreadful" she breathed, "simply awful. That poor boy."

She reached out to put her hand on Mellina's face, cupping her cheek with a kind smile, "You've been through quite an ordeal. I'll send the children to their Septa, you should go rest. You look tense."

Mellina began to object, assuring her she was perfectly fine, just a little shaken. But the queen insisted firmly that she was tired and should rest.
-----------
The rest of the visit was frightfully grim and insanely boring.

In light of Bran Stark's injuries, all events planned by the king had been canceled. Instead, everyone waited around with bated breath, each day waiting to hear if the little lord made it through the night.

"I miss the south" Mellina finally said one night, tucked under Sandor's arm.

"Go to sleep"

"I can't"

"Why not?"
She didn't have an answer. With a frustrated grumble, her husband pulled her closer, practically on top of her.

"We're leaving in 2 days. You can make it, I promise."

"You don't know that" Mellina smiled a little, teasing him, "This Northern air may kill me."

"Oh, because the air in King's Landing is such an improvement."

"It's familiar"

"Hm" Sandor pressed a kiss to her temple before rolling over, "Go to bed before I fuck you to sleep."

"Promise?" Mellina scoffed, leaning over his shoulder and leaving a trail of kisses up to his ear. "Seriously though, I do have a question."

"Oh, for fucks sake."

"It's important" she insisted, "When we get back, the queen is going out of her way to make me a member of her court. She's showing me immense favor."

"And?"

"And..." Mellina breathed, "I have a feeling she's going to want things to go back to the way they were....and I need to know if you're okay with that."

Sandor mumbled under his breath but sat up to face her, "Does that matter?"

"Of course, it does." she scoffed, "listen I know neither of us intended to get married, but you are my husband. And I like that you are my husband. And if this is going to make you uncomfortable, then I need to know so I can find a way out of it."

Sandor stared at her a moment, considering this. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd have any say in the situation.

"Well, you've come this far" he breathed, pulling Mellina against him, "if fucking the queen makes life easier for the both of us, then hell, fuck the queen."

"Really?"

"Shit, if it did me any good, I'd fuck her too." Sandor chuckled, "But if I see that cunt of a brother of hers getting too friendly, I'll throw his ass from a tower."

Chapter Text

The day had finally come for the king's entourage to return South and Mellina was glad of it.

There was nothing worse, in her opinion, than being trapped in a clearly troubled place where there is nothing she could do to help.

Before Mellina left, Theon Greyjoy stopped her. "Apologies, my lady. But Lady Stark would like to have a word before you leave."

Catelyn Stark had holed herself up in the main tower at her child's sick bed, never leaving as far as anyone knew.

Mellina agreed, following the young man up the stairs and finding Lady Stark sitting in a worn wooden chair, hands clasped at her knees. She looked more ghost than a woman.

"My Lady?" Mellina breathed carefully as if approaching a baby deer. "You sent for me?"

"Lady Clegane" Catelyn almost jumped when she saw Mellina enter, as if she had forgotten summoning her at all, "Thank you Theon, you may go."

Left alone with Catelyn, Mellina let her eyes wander to the little bundle in the middle of the bed. "How is he?"
"No change." Catelyn sighed, "But the Maesters say he is out of danger now."

She turned to Mellina with sunken, sullen eyes. "I've asked you here to ask a favor."
"Anything, my lady" she nodded, feeling great pity for the woman before her.

"This will be my daughters' first trip south, away from home." Catelyn breathed, "Their father will be with them, and he is a good man, he is but...."

Fresh tears began to well up in her eyes and she wiped them away firmly.
"They've never been away from their mother before and I need...I am asking you to watch out for them as if they were your daughters. Please, do this for me?"

"Oh, of course, My Lady." Mellina was relieved the assignment was so straightforward, "I will do everything I can."

Mellina wasn't expecting the sudden onslaught of physical contact as Lady Stark wrapped her arms around her neck.
"Oh, thank you!" She sobbed, "Thank you, thank you."

Mellina nodded and waited for Lady Stark to let go before clearing her throat. "Forgive me, Lady Stark. But I must go before they leave without me."

"Of course," she pulled away, face once again wet with tears, "go, go. You mustn't keep them waiting."

Mellina gripped her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, "My prayers will be with you, Lady Stark."
---------
"What did she want?" Sandor grumbled annoyed Mellina had left him holding her mare's reigns to wait for her.

"She asked me to keep an eye on her girls." his wife sighed, "that poor woman, she looked closer to the grave than her son."

"It doesn't feel right" Sandor mounted Stranger as she pulled the mare up beside him. "Give me a good, clean death. I wouldn't want to get stuck between."

"Ugh," Mellina pulled a face, "I don't want to think of you dying. There's been enough unpleasantness these last few weeks. I'm just glad to be going home."

Sandor didn't say anything, not wanting to point out that all that likely waited for his wife in Kings Landing were bitter nobles and nasty rumors about the upstart handmaiden who had slept her way into the Queen's Court.

He knew there was very little he could do to shield her from that. His specialty was in the field and the fighting pits, with his sword or his fists. The gentry was an entirely different beast.

Part of him wanted to ship Mellina off to the Westerlands to Clegane Keep. It was a generous bit of land gifted to his grandfather by the Lannisters and had plenty of forest and farms to draw a profit from if you actually bothered to maintain it.

But the queen would never allow it, and a part of himself wouldn't either. Away from him meant closer to something else. Brigands, lustful lords, and worst of all, Gregor.

Sandor knew that at some point, some point uncomfortably soon, Mellina would have to formally meet her new brother-by-law.
Gregor was more beast than man, never sticking around court too long lest he finds some stuck-up noble to decapitate or unlucky lady to rape.

How would Gregor react to his younger brother marrying before he did? Probably producing a Clegane heir before he did? Would he see it as a challenge to his seat?

Sandor prayed he didn't.

But he didn't bring this up, not to her. Instead, he rode in comfortable silence beside his wife, keeping an eye out for Prince Joffrey, who was probably being held hostage by his lioness mother trying to woo Lady Sansa.

That poor kid, he thought, that family was going to eat her alive.
___________
At dusk, they had come to an inn and Mellina thanked the gods for it. Who knew just a few weeks at Winterfell would soften her legs so much?

"Ow," she hissed as the chaffed flesh of her thighs touched. "Dammit"

"Sore?" Sandor smirked; his thighs of iron practically impervious to riding sores. "Perhaps you need something between them to make you feel better"

"You offering?" She challenged him with a teasing smile.

"Run along" The not-knight pulled down her hood and kissed the top of her head, "your queen wants you."

Cersei smiled as Mellina approached the royal carriage. "Lady Clegane, come sit with us" She reached out and took her hand carefully as she climbed into the carriage.
Inside was Lady Sansa and Princess Marcella who had been chatting like eager birds.

"You remember Lady Sansa?"

"Of course," Mellina nodded to the spry 13-year-old who nodded back politely. "How is the travel treating you so far?"

"I've never been so far from home before." Sansa confessed, "it's thrilling."
"I hadn't traveled much before this either" Mellina agreed. "But this Northern countryside is just heavenly. So quiet."

"You must be exhausted, my darling" Cersei fussed "All that time on that beast, you must join me in the carriage at least once."

"I will try to tear myself away, your grace" Mellina promised almost teasing, relaxing as the queen linked her arm in hers.

"You, guard." The queen swiftly called to a random servant, "Find the Hound and tell him Lady Clegane will be spending the evening with the Queen and not to worry." She glanced at her lover, eyes tracking her form like a wild cat, "She will be very well taken care of."

"At once, your grace" the servant scurried away, and Mellina smiled shyly.
"The king will not mind?" she whispered; unsure how much could be said in front of the younger girls.

"His Grace is busy orientating his new Hand" Cersei assured her, "trust me, he won't even notice. Now-" she raised her voice, indicating they no longer needed to talk in circles around Sansa and Marcella.

"I sent a raven to my dressmaker while we were in Winterfell and bless him, he was able to get a response back to me before we left. If we take your measurements and sent them to Kings Landing tonight, he should have some gowns ready for you upon our arrival. Any alterations needed can be done when we get there."

"Wow," Mellina was awestruck at the efficiency. If left to her own devices she wouldn't have known where to begin. "I cannot thank you enough, your grace."

"Nonsense" Cersei moved to leave the carriage, trailing Mellina and the girls behind her like ducklings. "I will not have you looking any less than your best when you've been received. Marcella, why don't you run along and find your Septa, I'm sure you have some lessons to go over. And Sansa, isn't your sister around here somewhere?"

The girls dutifully fled as Cersei's arm went from Mellina's elbow to her waist, "and you, Lady Clegane" she breathed, "will take me up to my room."
The innkeeper had set aside the two largest rooms in the inn for the King and Queen. Cersei's room contained a large 4-poster bed, a writing desk, a full-length mirror edged in carved oak, and a fireplace.

"Have you ever had your measurements taken?"

"No" Mellina swallowed, knowing damn well that wasn't why she'd stolen her away for the evening.

"Stand up straight" Cersei pulled a measuring tape from her bags. "Arms at your sides, there's a lamb."

The Queen's breath warmed the back of Mellina's neck as she measured her legs, her waist and bust, and her arms fingertip to fingertip.

For a moment Mellina thought she had fooled herself. Maybe Cersei hadn't called her up here for anything more than measurements, that was all.
Mellina's skin prickled as the leather measuring tape brushed her throat suddenly, unsure when it had even gotten there. The strap pressed against her windpipe lightly, not enough to restrict but enough to threaten.

"Put your arms behind your back" Cersei purred into her lover's ear, nipping gently at the lobe until she obeyed. Mellina felt the thin leather wrap around her right wrist, then her left before they were pulled together tightly.

"I want to tell you a story" Cersei's hands fell to Mellina's hips, guiding her to the full-length mirror. Her chin rested on her shoulder thoughtfully, running her hands up and down her captive's body.

"When I was a little girl, I had a doll. Well, actually, I had a great many dolls. But one doll, in particular, was my favorite. I thought she was the most beautiful doll in the world."

As the story began, Mellina watched in amazement as the Queen's elegant hands cupped her breasts and rubbed tender circles on her hips. It was like they moved on their own, Cersei fully engrossed in her own story and letting her hands grope and feel as they pleased.

"I took that doll with me everywhere I went. I brushed her hair and made sure all her dresses were clean and beautiful. When her paint chipped, I made my father's craftsmen repaint her as if nothing had happened."
Her hands found Mellina's clothes nipples now, rubbing her thumbs over them until they hardened and ached.

"Then, one day, my father informed me that I had grown too old for dolls. He made me throw her away with all her beautiful dresses, and I cried and protested but, in the end, the doll was gone." Cersei's hands came back to Mellina's shoulders, hugging her to her chest in a surprisingly tender embrace. She kissed down her captive's neck and back up again until she reached the shell of her ear.

"But now, my doll has come back to me, hasn't she?"
"I- yes, my queen" Mellina agreed, not fully understanding but playing along.

"Hmmm," she cooed and looked Mellina up and down in the mirror, pulling at her riding gown critically. "I don't like this dress on my doll."

Mellina gasped as the skirt of her dress was sliced down the back. "Your Grace!"

"Shhh sh sh." Cersei hushed, fingering the small blade she kept hidden in her sleeves, flashing the blade in the light. "Don't flinch now, I don't want to knick you."

Mellina tried to keep as still as can be as the sound of the blade cutting through wool filled the room and more and more of her body was exposed to the cool air. She jumped when the knife ripped open her bodice, earning a sharp slap that stung wonderfully.

"Now look" Cersei forced Mellina to look back into the mirror, hands once again traveling up and down her now exposed flesh. "Isn't that so much better?"

"Y-Yes, your Grace" She closed her eyes to the slight but Cersei bit into her shoulder.

"Keep looking" she hissed, cupping her doll's bare breast in both her hands and making Mellina watch as she pinched and pulled at her sensitive nipples.

Once a hot flush had filled Mellina's face and chest, Cersei pushed her legs apart with a growl.
"Let me see" she taunted, slipping a hand down her back, affectionately toying with her bound wrists before she saw the queen's clever hand appear between her legs in the mirror.

She stroked Mellina's folds softly, reveling in how quickly her doll got wet for her.

"When I do this" she stared into Mellina's eyes through the mirror, "I want you watching. I want you to see how beautiful you look getting fucked. If you stop watching, or if you close your eyes, I will punish you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, my queen" Mellina was trembling by now, desperate for her tough and oddly intrigued by her own reflection.

The queen's graceful fingers wasted no time dipping between Mellina's wet folds, gathering her wetness before slipping up to rub her clit.

It was an unusual experience, being forced to stand, forcing her knees not to buckle as Cersei pinched the nub between two fingers and rubbed in circles.

"Eyes open" Cersei cracked her free hand against Mellina's round ass and her eyes shot open instantly.

Once her doll's knees were buckling, Cersei slipped three fingers inside of her. The intrusion almost made Mellina double over, if the queen hadn't caught her by the hair and kept her standing.

"Remember to keep quiet this time sweetling," Cersei chuckled into Mellina's ear as she bit her lip to keep the moans from spilling out. "That's right, good girl."

The sting from her scalp meeting the relentless pleasure between her legs had Mellina struggling to keep from falling off the edge, but she didn't. She wanted to keep going for as long as she could.

"My sweet girl, my little doll. I know your close" Cersei pressed, curling her fingers up into her doll's g-spot. "You know, everyone has had the pleasure of watching that sweet little face of yours cum. Me, Jaime, your precious Hound."

She taunted Mellina as she struggled against her bindings, the feel of the leather restraints pressing into her flesh becoming all too much.

"Everyone but you. Have you any idea how pretty you look, when your eyes roll back, sweating, flushed? It's fucking addictive."

The queen knew Mellina was fighting her climax off, desperate to keep this going, to be the center of her mistress's frantic and cruelly pleasurable attentions.

"Stubborn little slut, aren't you?" The queen growled. "Fine then, you can't hold out forever."

The withdrawal of her hands felt like punishment and Mellina sealed her mouth to muffle an involuntary sob that turned into a whine.

"Don't worry, doll." The queen dragged the chair from the writing desk to the mirror, pushing her plaything down into it with a menacing grin.

"You're not done until I say you're done."
--------------
It was the hour of the Rat when Sandor finally decided to look for his wife.
Neither she nor the queen had been to dinner, and his wife hadn't been seen for hours.

"I have an idea" Robert had grumbled, three sheets to the wind.

Approaching the highest floor of the inn, Sandor paused a moment. It sounded like something had fallen with a dull thud.

Stripped of plate, he tried to be as quiet as possible as he drew closer. He didn't know why he had come, it's not like he didn't know what was going on behind that door.

Part of it, he presumed, tracked back to that night in camp when Mellina's cries of agony and pleasure had been the symphony of the night.
A siren's song.

He could hear that song again, but it was muffled now.

"Have you learned your lesson, sweetling?"

He strained to hear the response and sucked in a breath when the sound of flesh hitting flesh drew forth a drawn-out moan.

"Too fucked out to answer? That's fine" The queen purred, "I wonder how your husband would feel seeing you like this? Blissed out, cunt swollen and drenched, ass bruised. Would he be disappointed by his little slut of a wife?"

The description alone has Sandor growing hard as his mind wandered.

"Now, don't look so sad. I don't think he would." Cersei's voice became something resembling encouraging. "I bet he'd find you just as beautiful as I do. Should we ask him? He's right outside."

Sandor's stomach dropped as the bedroom door squealed open and he stumbled back. Queen Cersei was draped only in a floor-length silk robe, and from this angle, it covered very little.

"Looking for your wife?"

The Hound's mouth went dry and silent as the queen chuckled at his embarrassment.

"Come along, she's right this way."

The queen had never really spoken to him before, let alone touched him, so it was strange when she grabbed his large hand with her lithe one and pulled him into the bedroom, closing the door firmly.

Mellina looked more beautiful now than he had ever seen her.

Laid out on the bed like a gift from the gods. Her arms were stretched above her head and were held in place by a leather strap, exposing the whole of her body for his eyes to feast on.

Her nipples were puffy and lightly bruised, shining with saliva to match the swollen lips of her cunt. Her eyes were screwed shut as if trying to block out everything in the world, trying to bring herself back to earth, and her brown curls fanned out on the pillows behind her like a halo.

"What do you think Clegane?" The queen prompted him. "Do you think she's had enough?"

He blinked hesitant, entirely unsure how to interact with the royal in this situation.

"Don't be shy" Cersei moved across the room, pouring herself a cup of wine and then offering him some. He accepted.

She sat next to Mellina on the bed, removing the bindings at her wrists and offering her a sip from her wine cup. "Darling? Your knight is here for you. He got worried, isn't that sweet?"

His wife's eyes settled on him over the rim of the cup and before he could argue she was pulling him by the hands towards the bed.

"Darling" She cooed into his ear. "Sweet husband. My love, please hold me" she begged him in a voice so sweet it would have killed him to deny her.

He swept her up carefully, melting as she curled her face into his chest sighing.

"One moment now" Cersei pulled a loose frock from a chest. "You can't very well walk her through the inn like that."

Carefully she helped her lover slip into the dress. It was as if Mellina were drunk, only there was no smell of wine or beer on her. She stumbled occasionally, leaning on either her husband or her lover to catch herself.

"Goodnight sweetling" Cersei killed Mellina deeply, then kissed her forehead with a surprising gentleness. "Go on now"

Clegane moved to pick his wife up again but as he bent down, he froze. Cersei pressed her soft lips against his gently, it could almost have been called chaste if he hadn't smelt the distinct scent of sex on her.

"Be good to her" she leaned into his ear, hand pressed against his shoulder, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

By now Mellina was able to walk again, and the bliss-filled fog that had clouded her mind was clearing.

"We should go" She urged them, pulling her shell-shocked husband gently. "Before the king catches us"

"She's right" Cersei agreed, "a woman is one thing, but if Robert thinks I've pulled you into this that's all our heads."

Rushing out into the night, Mellina gasped as Sandor pressed her against a wall when they turned the corner. His kiss was insistent and fierce, hands cupping her jaw firmly.

"Darling." She sighed into his mouth, "did you miss me that much?"

He breathed heavily, trying to figure out what to say. "Is it always like that?"
Mellina laughed and shook her head "I think she was just in a really good mood."

"I may have to learn a thing or two from our queen" Sandor growled, "You looked like an angel laid out like that."

His hips pressed against her hard, grinding slightly and his wife smiled tiredly. "Darling, I don't think I have it in me to go again."

He grumbled in disappointment but moved to free her until her hands gripped his hips.

"But, my throat feels just fine"

Chapter Text

"OoOoOoOh gods"

Mellina fell stomach first onto the bed that had been supplied for her and her husband in the keep the party had stopped at for the night. She didn't remember the keep's name, nor its Lord or Lady, and frankly, she didn't care at this point.

When Mellina promised Lady Stark that she would watch out for her girls, she hadn't fully realized what she was getting herself into.

Arya, sweet as she looked, was practically feral. News of what happened by the river had swept through the camp like wildfire, Cersei was an absolute mess of rage, and now the woods were full of Lannister and Stark men all looking for the lost girl.

Sandor was out there as well, doing Gods knew what.
It was well after dark, and Mellina decided Sandor or no Sandor, she was getting some sleep.

It felt weird, to sleep alone.
Once upon a time, it had been all she ever knew, but now the bed felt empty without another body in it. Mellina supposed that's why Cersei kept so many bed maids.

It was the middle of the night when she heard a ruckus from below the window. Mellina glanced over the sill for a moment to see red capes surrounding a small figure.

Her father must not be far behind, she told herself as she looked out into the darkness with bleary eyes.

From the shadows, Mellina watched a large black horse trot down the dirt road and sighed.

Finally.

Letting her eyes focus, Mellina frowned when she realized there was something draped over the back of Stranger's saddle.

No, not something. Someone.

Mellina crawled back under the covers uneasily and wavered between sleep and awake until she heard the door open followed by heavy footsteps. She flipped his side of the covers up and patted the cushion.

"Come to bed"

"Go back to sleep" Her bear sighed.

"Trying" she mumbled, rolling over to face him with half-closed eyes.

"Sandor?"

"Yes?"

"Do I want to know what happened in those woods tonight?"

There was a long silence between the two of them in the pitch darkness of the room. Mellina could hear the buckles of his plate unlatching as he shrugged his armor off.

"No."

"The butcher's boy?"

"You don't want to know" he growled. "Trust me."

She fell silent.

In matters such as these, it was just best not to pry.

Mellina knew what he was when she married him, even before that, and she chose to stick around all the same.

"Come to bed" she repeated, patting the bed again. "I can't sleep alone anymore."

The bed sunk under his weight as he all but collapsed into his side of the bed. Instinctively, Mellina rolled towards him and draped a leg over his hip while burrowing herself under his arm.

There was a heavy peace, filled only with the sound of their combined breathing.

"Go to sleep" She finally said again, pulling the blanket up over him and closing her eyes.

Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.
------------
It hadn't been.

Nor the day after that.

But when Mellina finally saw the silhouette of the Red Keep in the distance she almost went slack with relief.

Only a few more hours.

She wished she was able to ride ahead and cut the time as much as possible. But Cersei had insisted she rode with her today, and as much as Mellina would usually appreciate that, the walls of the carriage felt claustrophobic.

"I've asked the driver to keep us behind a bit, so the messenger bringing your dress can meet us outside the city" she explained.

Mellina could not help but think it would just be easier to meet the messenger at the keep itself. But after this last disastrous month of travel, it was best not to ask any challenging questions.

"Your Grace" a steward knocked on the carriage door, "a messenger has brought a package for you."

"Finally," the queen breathed, opening the door and snatching the brown paper-wrapped box half the size of her body from the steward's hands.

The windows and doors shut creating a stifling atmosphere, but Mellina tried to remain good-natured as the queen opened the box.

"I had him make this one specifically for our arrival. It's best to arrive looking like you belong. It will make things easier."

The closer they got to Kings Landing; the more Mellina realized how daunting her arrival would actually be.
She had left a servant, nameless. She would be returning a married lady and favorite of The Queen. There would be so many questions to answer and she wasn't sure how to go about it.

"Your Grace" Her voice shook a little as she unwrapped the gown, "what am I to say? If anyone asks? I mean if they ask who I am, why I'm here?"

Cersei's eyes traveled Mellina's face for a moment before snatching her hands into hers. "You, my dear little doll, have nothing to explain. Just keep close to me, and I will do all the talking."

This was a great relief and Mellina leaned back on the seat with a sigh.

Getting dressed in a carriage also proved a greater challenge than She had anticipated. Cersei did her best to make sure all the hems were straight and the dress fit as it should.

It was rather tight, pressing in Mellina's bust and ribs and making it hard to breathe, but the queen assured her it would be fine.

"We'll have him let it out some after."

"Clegane" she called out the window, beckoning The Hound to double back. "I have something of yours I thought you might like to escort into the city personally."

"Tired of her already?" He deadpanned. "I supposed I can take her off your hands."

He pulled over just long enough to let his wife get out of the cramped carriage and his breath caught in his throat as she climbed out.

He honestly hadn't ever given a damn about house colors, but the sight of her decked out in black silk trimmed with yellow gold was overwhelming.

The draping sleeves Cersei had styled after her own gowns were edged with embroidery beaded with black glass. At the bottom, there was a scene of hounds prowling around Mellina's skirt etched out in black glass and silk thread.

He assisted her up on Stranger's back with one arm and tried not to tense as she wrapped her soft arms around his chest.

Cersei was pleased beyond words. Her plan was working out perfectly.
The King's Gate opened for them to the sound of blasting horns. The small folk gathered eagerly to catch a glimpse of the parade, and Mellina felt a million eyes suddenly land on her.

She told herself she was overreacting, that no one would even bother to look her way, after all, she was just another lady on a horse. But as the procession left the poorer straights of the city and drew closer to the castle, Mellina could hear the whispers through the sounds of wheels and hooves on cobblestone.

"Looks like The Hound Mounted himself a Bitch" was a comment that stood out from the crowd, and while Mellina couldn't tell who said it, she tightened her grip on Sandor.

"Keep your eyes ahead" he muttered under his breath. "Don't even look at them."

As the keep grew closer, the crowd grew wealthier and soon they were through the gates and stopped fully.

Mellina didn't remember getting off the horse, or bowing deeply as Robert and Cersei left the group first, followed by their children. When they were gone, the rest of the group were free to move.

"Keep close" Sandor trapped his wife's hand in the crook of his elbow as if she would be swallowed by the crowd. "And keep your mouth shut."

She nodded and plastered the least offensive smile she could across her face.

It didn't take long for someone to approach, and that someone ended up being a face familiar to Mellina.

"Clegane" a jovial young man decked out in green bounded up to them. His face was handsomely made with a trimmed black beard and dark eyes. "I hear you've brought back some plunder from the North."

"Something like that."

"Lord Renly Baratheon, a pleasure to meet you, My Lady." The King's youngest brother scooped up her hand and kissed the back of it politely.

Mellina curtsied deeply in response.

"Where's Stark?"

"He hung back" Sandor shrugged, "We had some trouble on the road with one of the wolves."

"Ah" Renly nodded grimly, "so we've heard. Well, I'll leave you two alone" he winked cheekily before slipping away.

"One down" Mellina breathed with something that might have been a relief.

Without warning, the air was knocked out of her as Sandor swept his wife out of the open courtyard and behind a stone pillar.

"Seven Hells" Mellina grunted, trying to breathe with his arm gripping her tighter than it ever had before. "Sandor, Darling. Please"

"Sh," he hushed her harshly, peering around the column.

There he was, bold as fucking brass.

Gregor Clegane towered over even his brother, living up to his name as a mountain among men.

He was looking for them.
"Fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck" Sandor swallowed, trying to figure out how to get Mellina out of here without being seen.

"Sandor, my love." She wiggled out of his arms and straightened her dress. Mellina had never seen him afraid before. It frightened her.

"Listen, maybe it's best to just get it over with now. There are plenty of people around, if he does anything the guards will help. And he clearly already knows so hiding me won't make any difference."

Sandor thought about this, shaking his head instinctively. His wife took his hand in her smaller one and kissed it gently.

"Come on. It has to be done."

She was right.

Gods did he hate that she was right.

Gregor caught sight of Sandor before he ever saw Mellina, but when he did, she felt like a rabbit in the eyes of a bear.

"Brother," Sandor grunted plainly.

"You got married" Gregor squinted at the plump wrench at his brother's side, wincing as if in pain.

"Aye"

Mellina moved in front of Sandor so her new brother could get a proper look at her. He sniffed, unimpressed.

"Pregnant yet?"

"I'm not sure" she confessed plainly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"Hm"

That was all he said, leaving the two of them and stomping between courtiers towards the training pits.

Mellina blinked, "do you think he already knew my name?"

"I don't think he really cares" Sandor breathed a sigh of relief that the worst part was over.

The Hound's Quarters were well furnished enough to impress Mellina but small enough to be unintimidating. She had no trunk to unpack or belongings to move from the servants' quarters, but outside the door, they were greeted by a small, tanned man with a mousey look to him.

"The fuck are you?" Sandor growled.

The small man sputtered either out of indignation or fear. "Her Majesty the Queen has sent me for the Lady Clegane."

"The Lady Clegane is indisposed"

"Sandor" Mellina admonished him with a patient smile for the man. "What has Her Grace sent you for?"

"My Lady" he gave a short bow before motioning to a small tower of boxes stacked beside the chamber door, "a gift from her Majesty, made by my own hands. Only the best quality, I assure you."

When the Queen said she would be sending for new clothes, Mellina thought she meant two or three gowns to be presentable at court, not an entirely new wardrobe, complete with slippers for each gown.

After toting armloads of boxes in at a time, the dressmaker made Mellina promise to come to him if she needed any alterations before being hastily escorted out the door.

"Mother's Mercy" Mellina breathed, eyeing the stack. "Did she tell you it would be so much?"

"You think she tells me things?" Sandor scoffed. "What a spoiled little creature you've turned into."

"I am not spoiled." Melina protested, leaning against him and pulling his arms around her shoulders.

"Spoiled rotten" Sandor teased, laying kisses over her hair "Just look at you."

"What do I look like?" Mellina prompted him, motioning to her new gown that wrapped her in the colors and symbols of his house. "Hm?"

"You look-" he breathed, taking all of her in for a moment.

Like a vision.
Perfection.
Like my wife, he wanted to say.
My wife, my life, my Lady, mother of my children

"Like you need a good spanking."
"Sandor!" Mellina pushed him away laughing, "Don't you dare!"
-----------
Cersei weighed the emotions in her breast as she watched Mellina and Sandor from the balcony over the courtyard.

She wondered if Mellina looked as natural with her as she did with him.

How she shimmered in that gown, the glass beads catching the light and the golden silk glinting in the afternoon sun.

Had she ever looked like that? Had she and Robert, even once, looked as happy as Mellina did with Sandor?

She should have had her wear the red one, she thought jealously then reconsidered it. Undressing and redressing her lover in her mind.

"You look lost in thought" Jaime approached, stripped of his armor and dressed in a quilted vest of Lannister red over a plain white shirt. "What are you thinking about?"

"I gave her to him to keep her close" she murmured, "but I didn't think she would sink so perfectly into him. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to do that."

"Well," Jaime crossed his arms, leaning against the wall in the shade. "I tried to tell you they'd get attached to each other."

"I knew he'd get attached to her, I just didn't think-" she snapped at him before sighing irritably, "It's fine."

"You know." Jaime approached her closely and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Since you've taken on your little project, I can't lie. I've been a little jealous myself. It's like you've been avoiding me since that nastiness in Winterfell."

Cersei looked away. The prospect of Bran Stark waking haunted her every moment.

But she couldn't hate him for it, not really. After all, he'd done it for her. For them.

Mellina may have been a bright and shiny new toy for the Queen to play with, but Jaime knew that she was no replacement for her other half.

"Don't worry about it." Jaime soothed his twin kindly, a strange light behind his eye. "She'll be with child soon anyway. And when she is, I'll still be here."

Chapter Text

It seemed nothing short of a miracle that Mellina had gone three days in the Red Keep without being recognized as a former handmaiden.

The Queen had fabricated a story out of thin air and instructed everyone who knew of her origins to stick to the story on pain of death.

Instead of a handmaiden born in Kings Landing's own Flea Bottom, the new Lady Clegane was the base-born bastard daughter of a hedge knight who had met with the party on the way North.

The Hound, taking pity on her and her poor circumstances and entranced by her beauty, married Mellina in Winterfell.

It wasn't a good story, if only because it begged belief that Sandor Clegane would show pity to anyone, let alone the nameless bastard of a hedge knight.

But that was the official line of the crown.

To any who asked, the handmaiden once favored by Queen Cersei was abandoned on the way to Winterfell without a penny to her name.

The ladies of the court, as predicted by everyone, did not take well to the new arrival.

Mellina's manners were honed enough to pass for a lady, but just barely.

The thing that seemed to give her away the most was her open happiness.
Happy to see The Hound when he walked into the room, most often tailing the prince.
Happy to see the Stark girls, though Arya kept Mellina at arm's length and Sansa never gave her a second thought outside of a polite acknowledgment.

But still, if anyone knew who Mellina had been, they didn't say it.

All except one person. A person who made Mellina's skin crawl with unwelcome memories.

"Lord Varys" She nodded cordially.
"Ah, The Lady Clegane." the Eunuch smiled knowingly. "Taking in the air?"

"Thought I would visit the gardens; I hear they are wondrous."

"I'll walk with you."

Fuck

The two of them walked in silence, the sand on the garden paths crunching under their feet as they walked. Perhaps if Mellina just kept her mouth shut, he would leave.

"How are you these days?" He inquired.

"Well enough, settling in." She answered plainly, offering no details.

"And your husband?"

"Well,"

Varys eyed Mellina with a sense of fond familiarity.
"It is good to see you again."

"I don't know what you mean, My Lord." The lady sped up her walk, "We have never met."

"Not in this life." Varys acknowledged, "In truth, I imagine it's been quite a long time since I've really known you."

Mellina turned to face him; he'd said too much.

"Not to worry" he gave a soothing smile, "no one is listening to us, I've made sure of that."

"Leave me alone" She whispered pleadingly, "please, don't ruin this for me."

"How much does he know?" Varys pressed, glad to have broken through Mellina's shell to prod at her tender soft bits "And the queen?"

"He knows I came from Flea Bottom." Mellina admitted, "as for her, if she knows anything she hasn't said. But she hasn't asked so I haven't told."

"Would you tell the truth if she did ask?"

"Of course."

Varys gave a look that said he knew she was lying.

"You never were a good liar, my dear. You never picked up the skill the way your brothers and sisters did."

"Well," Mellina sighed, "There was always someone there to lie for me."

Varys approached his former bird slowly, cupping her cheek in one hand. She did not flinch away from this familiar touch that was once such a comfort to her.

"You've really grown into a beautiful woman, you know." Varys looked almost sad, "I feared for you out in these streets. The world is not kind to pretty beggar girls who can't lie. Of all the places I could have found you, I am glad it was here."

Mellina touched the hand softly and nodded, "I'm taking your advice. Trying to build a better life for myself."

Her hand moved to her belly softly, "And those I love."

Varys glanced down and nodded, "You have settled yourself then."

"Trying."

"Do you remember what the maester said when you were 16? After you took that tea and got yourself sick?" Varys reminded Mellina, "Don't set yourself up for failure, my girl. You're too smart for that."

"He never said I couldn't" Mellina snapped suddenly, "He just said it would be difficult. He never said impossible."

"And that any children you had would be born sickly, possibly even stillborn. It would be cruel to allow your husband to continue expecting something that may never happen."

Mellina said nothing, only glowering at him until he sighed in defeat.

"I must be off, there's another meeting about planning this blasted tourney. But Darling," he turned to go but glanced back over his shoulder, "He will find out, one way or another. It would be better if it came from you."

Knowing Varys was still on her side made Mellina feel more at ease.

When she was a young girl, the master of whispers frightened her, but when he traded food and a safe place to sleep for information the offer was too good to refuse.

It was he who set Mellina up as a kitchen wench in the keep when she was barely more than a teenager. Mad King Aerys was still king then, and he frightened Mellina even more than Varys had.

Varys had always been good to her though. Mellina wasn't as skilled in collecting information as the other street children were, but he fed and sheltered her all the same, even if the information she brought wasn't always what he was looking for.

Mellina was so young then, as she grew older Varys stopped using her to spy, but that was okay because Mellina could take care of herself at that point.

Mellina never wanted to tell Sandor this. Not because she was ashamed but because she wanted to put it behind her.
She had a new life now.
----------------------------------------
Varys's words stayed with Mellina well after she left the garden.
What did it matter if Sandor knew or not?
Would he have refused to marry her if he knew? Not likely, even if Robert had allowed him to decline.

As far as Mellina was concerned, she still have the same odds of being barren as any other lady in court. It's not like she was the only woman in King's Landing to end a pregnancy.

But when highborn ladies got themselves in trouble, they took Moon Tea. It was safer, more likely to work, and had less risk of danger.

But Mellina took Tansy Tea. And if her memory served her right, improperly made Tansy Tea.

It got the job done, but Melina still recalled those days that bled into nights, her entire body shaking and sweating on a worn mattress in the bowels of some half-abandoned sept with a half-blind septon praying over her while maesters did everything they could to keep her living.

Varys had gotten Mellina the job in the Keep's kitchens shortly after that.

No, she decided, she had a right to put her past behind her. If she got pregnant and carried to term, great. If not, it's not like Robert would grant them an annulment anyway.
Not that Mellina thought Sandor would ask for one.
------------------------------
Mellina had missed Southern summer nights.

Even if there was talk of autumn rolling it, she tried to ignore it. Mellina prayed for a summer that never ends.

"Come away from there."

She turned to find her husband had returned from his rounds.

"There you are" Mellina approached him grinning. "I missed you today."

Sandor didn't respond, moving to close the large window he found his wife standing in. "You'll catch a cold."

"Will not."
"Will so."

Sandor sighed, too tired to indulge in their playful squabbles. His face was slack was exhaustion and his eyes trimmed with darkness.

Mellina frowned, "Come here"

He obeyed slowly, leaning into her touch when she cupped either side of his face and kissed him.

"What trouble have you caused today?" He mumbled, wanting to at least try to engage in a conversation.

"None" She insisted. "But I met Lord Varys in the gardens today."

"The spider" Sandor grumbled. "Best to avoid that one."

"Oh I know. He and I were previously acquainted."

"Really?" Sandor pulled back at that and Mellina frowned
"I did have a life before you," she reminded him. "Just like you had one before me."

Sandor seemed dissatisfied with this but pushed past it. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled his wife toward the bed.

Mellina knew exactly what he wanted, straddling his hips and pulling the sleeves of her white chemise down to expose the soft skin of her shoulders, neck, and chest.

Mellina had become accustomed to the feeling of his beard on her skin, entwining her fingers around his neck and head as he nestled his face again her chest.

"Hard day, darling?" Mellina asked, knowing he would only grunt in response.

He wasn't a chatty man, and after their return to King's Landing Mellina learned to appreciate that.

Everyone who met her wanted to talk, because of her novelty and newness.
Sandor just wanted to hold and be held, not even actually fuck. Not that it didn't usually lead to fucking.

"My poor old bear" Mellina kissed the top of his head. "Shall I take point tonight?"

He nodded and Mellina began to unbuckle and untie the fastenings of his clothes before slipping her shift over her head.

Once they were both bare she pulled him off the bed to turn it down properly.

"Come to bed, my love" she coaxed him, pressing her body against his. His response was a low rumble deep in his chest, pressing back against her with more strength than needed.

Mellina laughed, not allowing him to bowl her over and instead guiding him back against the pillows with light touches and kisses.

"My sweet husband." She purred, palming his cock and stroking it with a slow but firm rhythm. "So good to me."

Straddling him again, Mellina pulled his chest flush with her and sprinkled kisses on his face and broad shoulders. His mouth found the tops of her breasts, placing open-mouth kisses over them and fondling the rest with rough, calloused hands.

Allowing him to distract himself with your chest, Mellina carefully settled herself over his cock and slipped the tip in.

Sandor groaned; face buried into her flesh as she sank onto him painfully slow.

"There" She cooed, twisting his hair in her hands, "doesn't that feel so much better?"

After over a month of marriage, Mellina had mastered the art of taking Sandor's impressive cock without pain. But all the same, she couldn't hold back her whimpering moans as he stretched her.

"Fuck" she breathed, "you feel so good."

Encouraged, Sandor rooted around before slipping her nipple into his mouth. Mellina purred loudly, knowing he loved to draw reactions from her.

The bed began to creak and whine with the motion of their bodies. The rise and fall of Mellina's ass as she bounced on his cock, slowly at first, but picking up speed and force when her husband indicated he needed more.

No words passed his lips. Not teasing or taunting to make her blush. Only moans and pants that his wife encouraged him to let flow freely.

"Mellina" he growled, bucking his hips slightly trying to keep up with her.

"Yes, sweetling?" his wife hung on his shoulders, using them as leverage to rock back and forth on him. Each movement brushed her clit against his pelvis and sent a shiver up her spine.

"I love you" he grabbed at her soft arms, holding them in place around his neck as he pressed his brow to hers. "Gods, Fuck- I love you so much."

Mellina was breathless.

He hadn't actually said it before. She could hardly think straight, trying to keep her rhythm as her arms tightened around him.

"I love you, so much." Mellina panted. "So much. Oh Gods Darling, hold me. Hold me please, I'm so close."

Nothing made Mellina feel safer or more secure than when he tightened his large arms around her body, practically engulfing her, while she road out her orgasm on his cock. Feeling every jerk and spasm of her muscles as he continued to pump into her.

Mellina's sensitive cunt clenched with each thrust, trying to catch up as Sandor gripped her hips and took control of them, forcing her to alternate rolling and bouncing on him.

Now it was Mellina's turn to become lost in the sensations of his flesh on hers. Keeping himself buried in her, he flipped his wife on her back and continued where she left off.

"Fuck, I-" Mellina couldn't get a thought out. She knew after one climax she wouldn't last long before they came in droves. "Sandor, fuck."

"Sweet Wife" he echoed her words to him, kissing her neck and shoulders as he fucked Mellina into the mattress. "So good to me. Let me be good to you."

Mellina nodded encouragingly.
"You want to cum again for me, sweet girl?"

"Yes" She breathed, gasping as his fingers found her clit.

"You want me to finish inside you again?"
"Please" she begged. "Please, please, please."

"Hmmmm" Mellina felt his growl in the deepest part of her chest. "You beg so well. You know I couldn't deny you anything."

Mellina's back began to arch as her hips raised to meet his hand, chasing her high with abandon as Sandor's mouth found the sensitive spot on her neck.
Mellina's second orgasm came like a rolling tide, flooding her body and mind over and over again. Sandor growled as her cunt turned tight then relaxed, coating him in her sweet juices.

His release was also close at hand, and with a few more deep thrusts he nearly collapsed on top of her. Catching himself on his forearms, he peppered his wife's face with hair with kisses before pulling out.

"Sweet love." Mellina breathed. "Gods that was good."

"I needed that"
"I could tell" Mellina nodded, crawling back to the pillows and curling up to him from behind. "Want to talk about why?"

"Fuck" Sandor rolled his eyes, "Fucking Gregor is staying for the Hand's Tourney. The whole week of it, the cunt."

"What, why?" Mellina frowned. Gregor was the current head of House Clegane and he didn't have a legal heir. If he were to fall, he knew everything would fall to Sandor.

"Because he's a spiteful idiot,"

"Well," She thought, "You're not on the lists, right?"

"No, someone has to keep Joff alive."

"Well, then fuck him." Mellina kissed the back of his shoulder. "If he wants to risk his life in some stupid tourney, let him. As long as I don't have to worry about you."

"He's doing this to fuck with me" Sandor grumbled. "I know it."

"Darling" She rolled him over to look him in the face. "I don't think he's smart enough to fuck with anyone. If anything, he probably just wants to bash someone's skull in."

Sandor didn't answer but allowed Mellina to kiss his brow before snuffing out the lights.

Chapter Text

The Hand's Tourney was set to be the event of the year.

Members of all the high and low noble families had gathered in the Keep, and hopeful knights old and young entered their names into the lists.

Mellina was so glad Sandor wasn't one of them.

She knew how strong he was, and how skilled with his sword. But she didn't think she could stomach watching on the sidelines as some hedge knight tried to take chunks from the notorious Hound.

Cersei had insisted on picking out Mellina's dress for the tourney, as it would be the first time Mellina would be presented to all of the noble families.
The gown itself was rose pink satin and the bodice and sleeves clung tightly to her. Over this, a maid laced a cloth of gold over bodice intricately decorated with silk rosettes. The matching slippers were gold as well, also decorated with rosettes.

Cersei also urged Mellina to let her maids braid her chestnut hair as was popular with the other noble ladies, which she agreed to so long as her head didn't end up looking like a beehive.

"Unfortunately, it would be poor form for us to sit together." Cersei bemoaned, "But consider this your first challenge to face alone."
"Yes, your Grace" Mellina balled up bits of her skirt into your palms, which were sweating from nerves.

Sandor was to stand guard of the royal family. Cersei was to sit next to the king. Which left Mellina alone for the first time in quite a while, and in unfamiliar waters.

"Now, do you remember what I told you?" Cersei came up from behind her lover in the mirror, letting her fingers play with the delicate braids the maid had finished pinning into place.

"Avoid the small council members, except maybe Renly who's harmless enough. Don't start conversations but don't ignore someone trying to talk to me either. And if a knight asks for my favor, it's impolite to refuse...I don't think Sandor would like that one."

"Oh," Cersei scoffed, "Favors are one of the few exceptions to the rule. As long as it's clear that you're loyal to your husband, it's just innocent fun."

"If you say so" Mellina bit her lip. Her favor was a simple wreath of paper flowers meant to go over a knight's lance for good luck in battle. Mellina rather doubted it would be put to any use.

The start of the tourney itself was delayed for various reasons, leaving Mellina and the rest of the onlookers to sit in the summer sun waiting impatiently.
She found an isolated spot in the stands across from the royal pavilion. Every once in a while, she would catch the eye of her husband or her lover and smile at them, wanting to join them but knowing it was impossible.

"Sitting alone, my lady?"

Mellina looked up before looking away with a scoff, "Good day, Lord Varys. Might I help you with something?"

"Just taking in the joust." Varys did not ask to join her before sitting, fanning himself with a small paper fan.

"You hate blood sports." Mellina reminded him knowingly.

"I do." Varys nodded, "But I just wanted to check-in. You haven't told him yet."

"He doesn't need to know, it makes no difference."

"It makes all the difference." Varys corrected her before growing thoughtfully silent. "Or could it be you haven't accepted the truth yourself?"

At this Mellina stood, gathering her skirts. "I am not entertaining this conversation. Good day."

But Varys wasn't letting her off the hook that easily.

"What do you think happens to barren wives of noblemen?" The spider hissed "Do you think they're just reluctantly tolerated? At best, the Hound could petition the king to annul your marriage. At worst-" he tossed Mellina a scathing look. "Let's just say there's more than one way to get rid of a troublesome wife."

"Shut your horrid mouth," Mellina snapped at him, drawing the attention of others now, "My husband would never do that to me!"

"Oh you pretty little fool, you've managed to actually fall for him." Varys sighed, "Then you're not half as clever as I believed you to be."

"Is the Spider disturbing you, Lady Clegane?"

Mellina glanced up and almost sighed with relief at the sight of white armor and golden hair.

"Yes, actually" she glared at Varys.

Jaime scowled at the Eunuch, who backed down with a simper. "Perhaps the Lady has heard enough of your poison, Lord Varys"

"Very well" was all the Master of Whispers said, leaving her to the tender care of your savior.
"Ignore him" Jaime urged her after she thanked him. "You look very beautiful today if you don't mind my saying so."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime. In truth, your sister arranged most of this."

"She's always loved arranging things, my sister"

"I should warn you" Mellina glanced across the pitch to her husband, "Sandor doesn't like the idea of you talking to me."

"No?" Jaime quirked a brow and gave an amused chuckle, "I suppose I'm taking my life in my own hands then"

"Speaking of" Mellina motioned to the jousting ring, "you aren't participating?"

"No, not this time." He looked disappointed, "Just an onlooker. Your brother-by-law is jousting this first round though. Is he not?"

"If they ever start, he should be." She chuckled as the King grew drunker and more and more impatient.

Finally, the jousters made their entrances. First was Ser Hugh of the Vale, a young handsome man with flaxen hair and shiny new armour. He took his rounds on a tawny gelding to the cheers of the crowd.

The younger ladies of the court were clearly taken with this newcomer and this overwhelming support seemed to make him cocky.

Gregor, even ahorse, absolutely dwarfed the man. He, like his brother, also rode a black stallion, but Gregor's was dappled with grey and didn't seem to have the same discipline Stranger had.

The cheers for the Mountain were less boisterous, more of a polite round of applause.

Mellina expected him to report right to his end of the run, but instead, her skin broke out in goose bumps as he directed his horse towards her seat.

"My Lady." He addressed Mellina with surprising respect, "I request your favor for House Clegane."

It would be rude to refuse, Mellina knew that. And if he was requesting in the name of their shared house, it would be disrespectful to turn him away.

Pale but forcing her hands not to shake, Mellina slipped the wreath of yellow paper flowers over his lance.

"Good luck to you, Brother." She nodded and he nodded back before returning to the joust.

Maybe he did approve of her, Mellina thought as she returned to her seat by Jaime.

The horses were set and the knights ready and with a blast of a trumpet, they were off. The horses went at each other at a full gallop and lances lowered as the knights drew closer to each other.

Mellina had expected the shattering of shields, and the sounds of wood against plate.

She hadn't expected the visceral, wet crunch of bone and blood as Gregor's lance point went not through the chest, but through Ser Hugh's throat. His armour, not properly secured, had given Gregor the perfect opening to end the bout in one round.

The crowd went up with a cry of dismay that simmer down into horrified silence as Ser Hugh fought desperately for his last breaths.

"Gods" Jaime breathed before glancing at Mellina's pale face. "Next time I go into battle, remind me to ask for your favor first."

She didn't respond, not finding the jest amusing in the slightest.
Gregor dismounted and, with chilling calm, returned to her side of the pitch. His armor clanked with each step and movement until he reached over the barrier and dropped something in Mellina's lap.

Yellow paper flowers, now notably crumpled, and dappled by Ser Hugh's blood.

Mellina couldn't find the words to congratulate him, still shell-shocked from the sight of lance piercing throat.

Gregor didn't wait for her acknowledgment, simply walking away.

"Look on the bright side." Jaime tried to rouse her, "I think he likes you."

When she didn't laugh, Jaime noticed people had started to leave the stands. The pitch needed to be reset and it would be hours until the next bout.

"Come" he offered his arm which Mellina took shakily. "Let's get you back where you belong."
------------------
"Drink" Cersei poured her a generous glass of red. Mellina's hands still shook but her mind had come back from the shock.

Jaime had escorted her to Cersei's side, and the queen had a similar attitude to her brother about the whole situation.

"I think we can call that a success at least" she assured her lover, slipping her arm through Mellina's. "You did everything right, he asked, you gave, it was a solid show of familiar acceptance. Now that Gregor has accepted you as a Clegane, the court will follow."

"I feel like I killed that man," She said without thinking.

Cersei pulled a confused face and shook her head. "Nonsense, people die in tourneys all the time sweetling."

"I feel sick" Mellina breathed, closing her eyes as if to stop the world from spinning.
----------------
Sandor was wrought with fury, and for a moment wished he had joined the lists just so he could throttle his frustrations out.

"Look who it is" the irritating princeling under his care pointed over the crowd. Lady Sansa, hooked to her prince's arm, craned her neck and smiled a little.

"Congratulations on your brother's win today, My Lady" Sansa said politely, though she had been equally dismayed by the bloodshed.

"Your Highness, My Lady" Mellina acknowledged the younger pair in turn before turning to her husband. "I'm returning to the keep. I'm not feeling too well"

Sandor gave a short nod, not asking for further.

"You should not walk alone if you are not well" Sansa insisted, clinging to Joffery and trying to subtly motion to Sandor who had been looming behind them for hours.

"I appreciate the concern but I'm sure I'll be fine" Mellina insisted but the Prince shook his head, picking up on Sansa's implication.

"Nonsense. Dog, see to your lady. Lady Sansa and I will be fine without you."

Sandor didn't need convincing before whisking his wife back to the keep, Sansa watching with wide blue eyes.

"They are very romantic, aren't they?" She breathed, "I wanted to watch their wedding when we were at Winterfell, but Mother wouldn't let me."

"It was boring" Joffrey scoffed. "Who cares about two servants getting married?"

"I thought she was a hedge knight's daughter you met on the road?"

Joffrey quickly remembered himself and the lie his mother had impressed upon him and gave a cruel smirk, "That's right, I must have misremembered."

Sansa ignored the irony in his voice, swept up in the idea of a poor knight's daughter and a grumpy bear of a man meeting by chance on the King's Road and being so taken with each other they married as soon as they could in a grand castle.

It was just like the songs and tales she loved so much.
-----------------
"That was horrible."

"That's tourneys for you" Sandor growled, "what did you expect?"

"Not that" Mellina struggled to keep up with him.

He didn't respond, and she found the silence to be brutally intentional.

"Sandor" She stopped, watching and he continued to storm forth. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad?" He stopped but didn't turn to look at her.

"Are you mad that I gave Gregor my favor before the joust?"

His shoulder slackened a little as he rolled back to face his wife, looking tired. "No" he confessed, "That's not why I'm mad."

"But you are mad" she pressed. "With me?"

He shrugged.

"Please be honest" Mellina begged him, "I'm still very new at all this. If I did something wrong, I need to know."

Sandor took a breath, not wanting to take his frustrations out on her. Not if she was just trying to help.

"Fucking Lannister" he growled, "he had you practically in his lap the whole bout. And I know he did it just to piss me off."

Mellina's face softened with understanding. "Oh, my love. Is that it?"
She didn't want to laugh at him, it would only piss him off worse. So instead, she closed the gap between the two of them.

"The queen is one thing" he breathed, "I won't lie and say I love the idea. But she makes you happy, and she's making life here easier for you....but that fucking brother of hers" his voice deepened to a growl. "I know, about you and him."

Mellina gave a sharp breath. "It was just the once."

"Once is enough."

She thought a moment. "If it makes things easier, I will do my best to avoid Jaime Lannister."

"You can try" Sandor grumbled, "but one word to Her Grace and he'll try to turn her against you."

"I doubt that," Mellina assured him. "She knows how much I love you. I like to think she'd be understanding. "
---------------------

The second half of the joust didn't come until late the next morning.

This time Mellina found a seat on the same side as the royal family, keeping herself further away from the front so Gregor wouldn't ask for her favor a second time.

This time the Mountain was riding against Ser Loras Tyrell, a sterling youth with light chestnut hair that hung in ringlets. His armour was a shimmering display of steel roses pressed into the plate. His shield bore the sigil of his house proudly.

His mount was a milk white mare, and as she passed Gregor's stallion the black horse began to prance in place anxiously.

Despite Gregor's best efforts, the stallion would not settle as they mounted for the joust. It became rowdy and impatient, and when the trumpet blared the stallion dashed frantically in the direction of the mare.

Loras's lance smashed against Gregor's chest, sending the giant into the dirt and knocking off his helmet.

The crowd erupted with cheers as Loras basked in their adulation. Gregor, ever a sour loser, called for his sword.

Mellina waited for the Melee round to start, internally bracing for another death, but instead of taking the broad sword to the Knight of the Flowers, Gregor took the head off the stallion with a single blow.

Mellina covered her mouth in shock as the stallion stiffened and collapsed, flooding the pitch with a small river of blood. Gregor turned his attention to Loras.

Before the teenager got a chance to call for his own weapon, Gregor shattered the Tyrell sigil into a million splinters and reared back to smash his opponent as well.

The crowd cried for mercy, and from the royal pavilion a large black mass shot between Gregor and Loras.
It took Mellina a moment to realize that the black mass was her husband, who had drawn his own sword and was fighting off his brother as well as he could.

Size and strength were on Gregor's side, but Sandor managed to dodge and parry ill-aimed blows that were fueled by rage.

Mellina pushed herself through the crowd to the wooden gate that separated the crowd from the jousters. She wanted to scream but knew if she did she'd be risking his life.

He needed focus, as even now the battle wasn't looking good for him.

"Stop this madness in the name of your King" Robert bellowed, enraged by this sudden outbreak of violence. Sandor was the first to stop, almost immediately as the order was given he ducked quick enough to avoid what would have been a vicious blow to the head.

Gregor stopped only when he realized all attention was on him, armed guards waiting for him to make a wrong move so they could skewer him from all angles.

Instead, he tossed his sword like a toddler tosses a toy and stormed off, Robert calling for the guards to leave him be.

Loras had managed to recover himself enough to make a show of honoring Sandor for saving his life, prompting scores of cheers that left him looking rather embarrassed.

When the crowd departed Mellina all but threw herself at her husband, grabbing at him with clinging hands.

"Gods, you can't do that" She scolded him, blood pounding in her ears frantically. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack. How can you be so stupidly brave? Damn you!"

Sandor grumbled under his breath, letting an arm drape over his wife shyly. "Well, I just didn't want Gregor to get the satisfaction of 2 deaths in as many days."

That was a lie, but Mellina let him keep it. She supposed it was easier for him to swallow than the thought he'd done something genuinely selfless for someone he barely knew.

By the end of the day, The Hound almost wished he'd let the kid get crushed if it meant he wouldn't have to bat off so many strangers trying to thank and congratulate him.

Joffrey took great pleasure in the attention. After all, he considered the Hound's success to reflect on him. If The Hound was fearsome, then he was even more so.

Somehow, Mellina even ended up getting caught in the frenzy. The noblewomen who had scorned her now tried to pull her into their conversations.
She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but mostly smiled and nodded to be polite.

"You must tell us more about how you met, it's so unusual." A strange but well-dressed woman pressed.

"It's romantic" another woman dressed all in blue insisted, Mellina had forgotten her name, "I didn't meet my husband until my wedding day."

"Are you going to try for children?" An older woman interjected, "I know you're getting a late start of it, but you still have some good years. Don't let those know-nothing Maesters make you think otherwise."

"Oh, you poor thing" The conversation came back around to the first woman. "I can't imagine the size of those babies"

"Poor thing, my eye" the older woman laughed, "I can imagine the size of that-"

"Lady Florent, you stop right there!" the blue woman scolded her with a fierce blush across her face.

Mellina gave brief but friendly answers, and before long she had them eating out of the palm of her hand.
Maybe Cersei was right.
Maybe she would get on here just fine.

Chapter Text

News of Lord Tyrion's kidnapping found Mellina's ear by accident.
She was sure the queen had not let the information slip purposefully, letting her tongue slip in agitation.

The days after the tourney were particularly quiet, in the same way the world is quiet before a crack of lightning cuts through the sky.
There was some talk of Lord Stark retracing Jon Arryn's last steps before his death, news that Mellina relayed to Cersei casually.

"How do you know that?" The queen, leaned up from the mattress, staring at her with inquisitive eyes.

Mellina only shrugged.

"Walls have ears, My Queen. I've learned to be a very good listener"

"What do you know?"

Mellina adjusted on the Queen's bed.
They had been taking an afternoon rest, allowing the royal chambers to entomb them from the rest of the world and their prying eyes.

"I know he borrowed the book Jon Arryn had from Pycelle, I know he's been going into the city almost every day, though I don't know where exactly. And I know he had a keen interest in Jon Arryn's last words."

"His last words?" Cersei's attention was piqued. "Do you know what they were?"
"The Seed Is Strong," Mellina said slowly, watching her face for a reaction.
Cersei's brow knitted together in what could have been confusion as much as it could have been concern.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since the Tourney, I think."

It was only a few weeks after that the twins were informed their brother had been kidnapped off the King's Road by Catelyn Stark.
Mellina was stunned.
What could have possibly gotten into Lady Stark that she would kidnap a man who was a guest in her home a little over a month ago?

If the Stark sisters knew anything about it, they didn't show it. Not Sansa anyway.
After the drama of the tourney, Sansa started sticking closer to Mellina. They walked through the gardens in the mornings, lounged in the shaded balconies and pavilions during the heat of the afternoon, and in the evenings Sansa seemed reluctant to part.

One day, Mellina just couldn't help but ask.
"My Lady? Not that I mind at all." She began, "But I've noticed during our visits, you have always seemed to have a question on the tip of your tongue. May I ask what it is?"

Sansa blanched as if she had been trying to keep her intentions secret.

"I-" she began, a thick blush filling her pale little face. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry, it's just-"
The two of them settle on a stone bench in the garden, shaded by a flowering bush from the growing intensity of the sun.
"I was hoping that you could help me with the prince."

"I can certainly try" Mellina tried not to laugh, "But I think there is little I can do."

"It's just, you and Ser Clegane seem to mesh so naturally" Sansa's face looked pitifully forlorn. "And I was hoping it would be the same for Prince Joffrey and me, but ever since the King's Road it's like he can't stand to be around me."
Mellina listed sympathetically, suddenly remembering what it was like to be a love-struck teenager.
"How did you do it?"

"Oh, my love" Mellina sighed, touching Sansa's hand gently, "This is a problem that has plagued women for generations. It always seems that the one you want doesn't want anything to do with you, and the one you don't want won't get out from under your feet."

Sansa nodded at this as if Mellina was speaking wisdom new to her ears.

"In perfect truth," Mellina confided, "Sandor couldn't stand me when we first met."

"Really?" Sansa gawked, "But the way he looks at you!"

"A very recent development." Mellina laughed, "When we first met, he thought I was a fool and a pest, but when we were out on the road...I don't know I just felt safe around him. Somehow I knew that if I was around him, nothing bad could happen to me."

"What changed?"

"We got married." Mellina looked sheepish, suddenly remembering the story she was to stick to, "He ask and it seemed to be out of the blue at the time, but afterward we just sort of settled into each other. We took care of each other."

"Did your father..." Sansa began to ask before wondering if she was stepping too far, "Did your father like him? Did he approve?"

Mellina thought on this. She wondered what her real father would think of all this, but she never knew him so it was impossible to say.

"Every father has a hard time accepting their eldest daughter is leaving them" She finally said. "I was old enough that I think he thought I would stick around forever to take care of him. But, in the end, he knew that this was the best thing for me, so he accepted it. What else could he do, really?"

Sansa thought on this very seriously for a moment, a look that didn't fit her youthful features. She had a face for laughing and smiling, not brooding.

--------------------------------------------
It was soon after their meeting in the garden that Sansa's father was attacked.

The actual story was muddied.

When in Cersei's bed, the queen insisted to her that Ned Stark attacked Jaime in a drunken rage.
But, of the little Mellina had seen of the Hand, she had not once seen him drink.
All the same, Mellina took Jaime's side. As did Sandor, though silently and more out of duty than anything else.

After the brawl, Ser Jaime fled the city and Mellina's husband could not help but joke while the two of them managed to steal a private moment in one of the Keep's many staircases.

"At least I won't have to worry about his pulling you into his lap anymore."

"Sandor!" Mellina laughed and smacked his chest lightly, "He never actually had me on his lap, you know."
"No, he just had you on his-"
Mellina reached up to cover his mouth before the next world could spill out.
"Will you be quiet?" She hissed, "Father be Good, the man's not even in city limits and you're still seething in jealousy."

"Am not."

"No?" Mellina grinned, stopping to make sure they were still alone, "I bet if I even said his name, you'd have me against this wall in a heart beat."

Sandor paused, turning before climbing the steps back to her, getting intimately close.
"Want to try it and find out?"

Mellina bit her lip, leaning away from him before grinning mischievously.
"Jai-"

The name wasn't even out of her mouth before Mellina's breath was whisked out of her lungs.
Suddenly much higher than she had been, Sandor had his wife flush against the wall, pulling her legs around his hips so the only thing keeping her from falling was him and the brick she was pressed against.

"Sa-"
"No, no, no" Sandor corrected her, glowering with a face that Mellina couldn't resist teasing. "Say his name. I want to hear you say it one last time before I fuck it from your memory"

Mellina hummed mockingly for a moment as if trying to remember what name she was about to say.
"Let me think....you know? I've completely forgotten what we were talking about."

"Hm, is that so?" Sandor pressed, a smile playing across his lips.

"Completely forgotten, honest." Mellina insisted with a laugh. "I have, I swear."

"How convenient for you."
Mellina lazily draped her arms over her husband's shoulders as he kissed her, pressing her to the wall firmly. One hand crept up her leg and moved to cup her ass firmly before exploring further up to her waist, then to the fullness of her breasts where it squeezed and groped. Mellina breathed through their kiss as his thumb found her nipple and began to rub in circles through the fabric.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull up that pretty dress of yours and fuck you against this wall," Sador growled and Mellina felt herself melt into him.

"I don't have one." She confessed with an eager smile, "Maybe you should go for it."

"Hm." He chuckled into the kiss before pulling away. "I have one."

"What?" Mellina's heart sank as he dropped her back to the ground. "What, why?"
"Because, my love." He kissed the top of her head with a knowing smile, "You don't deserve it."

"What?!"

"Have a good night, I have the night watch."

"Sandor!" Mellina called after him, the ache he had created in her core lingering as she watched him go.

Mellina pouted alone in the torchlight before biting her lip.
It's fine, She thought, I have other options.

-----------------------------------------------

Cersei laughed as she and her lover fumbled through her bedroom door.
Mellina had been extra attentive all day in the hopes of an invitation and just as she hoped, Cersei's hands began to wondering around dinner time.

By dessert, Cersei had excused herself and cued Mellina to meet her at the doors of the Royal Quarters.

"Darling." Cersei breathed between kisses.
"Yes, my queen."

"Help me with this here?"
Mellina's fingers quickly worked any clasp or tie on the Queen's dress, working on muscle memory as her lip's found the lioness's collarbone and peppered it with kisses.

"Good Girl" Cersei sighed, starting to work on Mellina's clothing as well.
Since Ser Jaime had left the city, something in their dynamic had changed.
Cersei was now more willing to receive pleasure as opposed to only giving. She no longer tutted with disapproval when Mellina's hands instinctively went to touch her. Instead, she welcomed her lover's embrace.

Once they were both undressed, Cersei pushed Mellina back onto the bed and Mellina spread her thighs eagerly. Cersei's clever mouth kissed up her legs, lingering at the most sensitive spots that made Mellina jump and giggle before crawling to the mound of dark curls between her legs.

Mellina didn't remember the last time Cersei was so attentive, lavishing her cunt with careful licks and gentle thrusts of her fingers.
It was so good and yet not enough.

"Please" Mellina whimpered, bucking her hips with Cersei's hand, "harder."

But Cersei ignored her, continuing at her slow, even tempo. Once in a while, she would curl her fingers up, pressing on the rough tissue that made Mellina's mouth fall open with a moan only to return to the same steady rhythm.

Mellina began to grow impatient, trying to speed up the pace only to be punished with a swift smack to the thigh.

"My Queen," Mellina begged, "Please. I need more."

"So greedy." Cersei purred, not bothering to indulge Mellina's pleading. "But unfortunately for you, a little hound told me you've been very bad."

Mellina's blood ran cold.

"I- no!"
Another smack came down like lightning, leaving a handprint on the softness of her thigh.

"Now, now, now, it's not polite to lie Sweetling" Cersei curled her fingers again, playing at Mellina's g-spot only to stop as the moans began to roll from her throat.

"I'm sorry." Mellina whimpered contritely, whining as Cercei withdrew her hand and crawled up the bed towards her face.

"I'm sure you're very sorry now, aren't you." The queen teased, rolling Melina's breasts in her hands, "You thought you could come to me and I'd give you what he forbade. Why, I almost feel taken advantage of."

"No." Mellina's eyes widened and she pouted so well it almost coaxed some leniency from the queen, "I'm sorry, My Queen. It was wrong of me, I know that. Please."

"So sweet, but it's not just my forgiveness you need.' Cersei reminded her, "Teasing poor Sandor after all he's done."

Mellina sat up and whined, "I can't see him tonight, he's on night duty."

"Well then, I guess you're just going to have to wait, sweetling." Cersei snickered. "When he's forgiven you, then I will."

Frustrated with this newfound solidarity between her husband and her lover, Mellina redressed and moved to go to bed.
It's not like she didn't know how to take care of herself.

Snug under the covers of the large bed, Mellina let her hand drift between her legs.
She realized she hadn't touched herself without an audience for months, but the moves came back quite naturally.

It wasn't the same. Not as good as real sex.
But it did the job quicker, and she found that after 3 or 4 rounds she was quite content.

"Ha" she taunted out into the darkness, knowing that neither of them could hear her. "We'll see who outlasts who."

With that, she rolled slightly onto her husband's side, which carried his comfortable scent of smoke and leather and lulled her into sleep.

Chapter Text

The stand-off between Mellina, her husband, and the queen had gone on for days.

Mellina certainly didn't intend to apologize for a bit of teasing, in fact, it only made her more determined to win.

Brushing off Sandor was easy enough once she got past his kicked-puppy face when she reject his advances. Though Mellina had to admit, the dejected look in his eyes did pull at her heartstrings.

The queen, on the other hand, was harder to fend off. It was clear she hadn't expected this standoff to last more than a few hours.

But Mellina was determined neither one of them would touch her until she approached them.
But that didn't keep her from your duties, tailing the queen throughout her day and tending to her needs as Mellina had done before.

"Are you still being stubborn?" The queen asked cooly

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And how is your husband taking it?"

Mellina smirked a little.

"I think I saw him hit the training dummy a little harder than necessary, Your Grace."

Cersei couldn't help but chuckle, but stifled it as a page approached them.

"The Hand has awakened, My Queen" the young man bowed. "You asked to be told immediately."

"Finally." Cersei hissed. "I won't let Robert wriggle Ned Stark off the hook this time. Come."

Cersei snatched up Mellina's hand and all but dragged her to the Tower of the Hand.

Robert had beaten them both there and was already standing by The Hand's bedside when they entered.

Robert glanced at Mellina for a moment but decided she wasn't worth the fight as Ned's head shook from side to side.

The onslaught of questions was so immediate, Mellina almost felt bad for Lord Stark, who firmly stood his ground.

The options were simple, it seemed. Lord Stark was to make amends with Jaime, his wife was to release Lord Tyrion, and he was to return to his duties as Hand.

Cersei fumed at this. "You allow his daughter to attack our son, his wife to kidnap my younger brother, and his men to attack my twin?" She hissed. "I took you for a king! I should wear the armor and you the gown!"

Mellina nearly lunged forward when Robert's large hand came across Cersei's face. The queen sat a moment in stunned silence before smirking, rubbing the growing red welt on her face.

"I shall wear this like a badge of Honor"
For a moment Mellina considered the price of treason and how quickly the guards could make it through the door as Cersei dragged her away
She felt the burning fires of rage eat away in her chest. Mellina looked into Robert's face and only saw red.

The queen and her lover walked silently before Mellina could no longer keep herself from speaking out.

"That was wrong of him." She said plainly, the lines of her face tight and drawn. "Very wrong."

"I know"

"That wasn't the first time, was it?" Mellina grabbed the queen's arm, daring to show a level of familiarity outside the bed chamber.

Cersei looked stunned but shook her head. "No, darling. It wasn't"

"Do they know? Your brothers, your father?"

"Jaime would cut him in two." Cersei scoffed.

"Maybe he ought to" Mellina sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry your grace. That was a treasonous thing to say and completely out of line"

Cersei's eyes watched her for what felt like an eternity before touching Mellina's face gently. Mellina moved to do the same, caressing the swelling side of her queen's face and frowning.

"This needs ice."

Cersei nodded with a thoughtful sigh. "Why don't you fetch me some? Bring it to my chambers."

Mellina obeyed swiftly. She knew Pycelle would have what she needed and was willing to risk a long-winded conversation to get it.

She didn't mention what it was for, which Pycelle muttered in dissatisfaction over. The old man was a wizened busybody, constantly monologuing.

As he fumbled with an ice pick, chipping away at the carefully stored block of ice kept under the floorboards, Mellina glanced around at the bottles and vials, all containing unknown liquids of various makeups.
Her eyes glanced over one that looked familiar.

Essence of Nightshade.

Mellina had delivered this particular potion to Cersei more than once in the past, always with the warning to only administer 1 to 3 drops.

Anymore was deadly.

"Grandmaester" Mellina said curiously. "I do have one more question if you don't mind."

"Of course, my lady" the old man nodded. "Anything"

"It's something of a private matter" She began, "I was wondering if you had anything to boost fertility? As you know it's been several months since my wedding night and I'm afraid we haven't had much luck."

"Ah!" Pycelle seemed eager to aid her, fumbling with tomes and ledgers of every combination of herbs imaginable.
"Of course! Not that you should be worried yet, after all, it's only been a few months. But I can understand your nervousness. Yes, it's quite common among older wives, but not to worry. It is still very possible for a wife your age to bear many children."

As he rambled, Mellina's hands moved like a shadow. By the time he turned around, the vial was tucked securely in her bodice and her face told him she had listened to every word he said.

"Here you are, my dear" Pycelle handed her a large sachet of strange-smelling herbs. "Have this made into a strong tea and drink three cups every day. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Grand Maester" Mellina nodded, taking her leave without waiting for him to dive into another lecture.

The ice was half melted in her hand by the time she arrived in Cersei's quarters.

"Thank you, pet." The queen pressed the cold bundle to her face. "I take it he took his time?"

"Not as much as he could have" Mellina shrugged. "Are you alright?"

"Fine" Cersei nodded, "Robert is going hunting tomorrow at dawn, so at least I won't have to see him."

She nodded, finding her opening. "What poor souls is he dragging with him this time?"

"Oh, Barristan of course, Renly. And of course, Lancel, my poor cousin. I should have known better than to make Robert take him on as Squire."

Lancel, Mellina thought, she knew that name.
"I think I've met Lancel, haven't I?"

"Once, briefly." Cersei beckoned Mellina onto her loveseat and leaned against her soft shoulder. Even now, the Lion Queen was a true beauty, all golden shimmers and scarlet silk.
"You probably remember him running after Robert looking like a scared chicken."

Oh yes, Mellina thought, I remember him now.

"I should get going." Mellina breathed reluctantly. "Pycelle gave me these herbs and they're supposed to help with.... you know."

"Ah," Cersei smirked knowing. "So, you've decided to call a truce."

"For the sake of House Clegane and my marriage, I have decided to yield" she confessed, planting a firm kiss on her lover's lips before making for the door.

At first, Mellina had no idea where to find Lancel, but then she remembered what 90% of his duties were.

The wine cellars of The Red Keep were cold and dank, perfect for preserving the thousands of vintages stored in wooden barrels that lined the stone walls.

"Lancel" Mellina called softly. "Are you down here?"

The maid spied a crop of white-blond hair in the torchlight and smirked, "Are you hiding?"

A pair of sea-blue eyes peered out from behind a set of stacked barrels.

"Please don't tell the king" He nearly whimpered.

"I won't" Mellina assured him kindly. "I'd hide down here too if I had your job."

Lancel got a good look at her in the flickering flames and frowned, "Lady Clegane?"

Mellina noticed the half-empty wine flask that dangled from his hand and motioned to it.
"May I?"

"Oh!" The squire paled and extended the flask to his guest. "Please, my lady."

"You don't have to call me that, you know." Mellina chuckled lightly, "I'm not a lady. Not a real one."

"Whatever would I call you then?" The young man asked, slowly relaxing as the plump woman took a swig from the flask. The wine was sweet and rolled down her throat like liquid silk.
An excellent vintage.

"You have good taste" She complimented, handing the flask back to him, "you may call me Mellina, if you like. That's what your cousins call me."

Lancel's eyes widened nervously. "I was warned I wasn't to mention..."

"Me and the Queen" Mellina chuckled darkly at his scandalized expression. "I appreciate your discretion. But it's okay. I've only heard good things about you from your cousins. You're rather well regarded, you know."

"Really?" Lancel blinked, a light pink blush filling his face. "My lady, I don't think-"

"Relax, Lancel" Mellina scoffed, "I didn't come down here to seduce you. I came to check in."

"Why?"

She frowned, moving closer to the squire, "he's very cruel to you, isn't he? I've heard the way he talks to you, and it isn't right."

Lancel paused a moment before nodding, looking at his feet. "He called my mother a dumb whore."

"And that was very wrong of him." You pressed. "It's not right to talk like that to anyone, even if he is the king. Besides I'm sure you're mother is a lovely woman"
"I wouldn't know." Lancel looked sad suddenly. "I didn't know her well before she passed."

"Oh, lamb." Mellina patted his hand gently, letting their skin touch a little longer than necessary.

"But what can be done?" Lancel bemoaned. "He doesn't listen to anyone. Not even Ned Stark."

"I think" Mellina began slowly. "The only thing that gets to a man like The King, is to be reminded that he isn't all-powerful. That even kings must depend on those around them when they stumble."

"What do you mean?"

Slowly, she removed the Essence of Nightshade from her bodice and handed it to him.

"Put a few drops of this into the king's wine during the hunt tomorrow." Mellina instructed, "When he gets too drunk, he will have to lean on others to make it back to the palace. Maybe then he will realize how vulnerable he really is."

"Do you really think that will work?" Lancel turned the vial over in his hands, "and it won't hurt him?"

"Just don't add more than 10 drops" She instructed firmly. "Just enough to throw him off, not enough to hurt him."

Lancel seemed nervous but nodded.

"Brave Lad" She cupped his cheek tenderly and he seemed to lean into it. "Now remember, this stays between us. We aren't hurting anyone, just teaching him a lesson. Right?"

"Right." Lancel's voice went from soft to firm and Mellina knew he was ready.

"You're a good man, Lancel" She assured him and the squire blushed.
---------------------------------
The tea Pycelle prescribed smelled even worse when brewed.

The scent was sharp and medicinal, and it stung Mellina's throat when she chugged the liquid to avoid actually tasting it.

"This shit better work" She muttered, trying not to gag.

The door to the chambers squealed open as she looked over her shoulder with a small smile.

"Good evening husband"

"Wife."

"Are you still cross with me?" Mellina said in a teasing tone, curling her feet up into the chair she sat in and tucking them into her nightgown.

He didn't answer and Mellina rolled her eyes.

"Can we stop this please?" She sighed.

"You started it." He snapped.

"No. You started it." His wife corrected him with a huff. "This isn't helping."

Sandor kicked off his boots in frustrated silence and Mellina moved to the bed next to him.

"Can we talk about this?"

"Not much to talk about."

"Well," She breathed, "It felt, I don't know, strange, that you and the queen talked about me when I wasn't there."

He glanced at her but didn't fully turn to look. "Why?"

"I don't know" She mumbled, "I guess I just have a different relationship with her than I do with you."

Sandor frowned at this but tried not to jump to conclusions. "Explain."

"The queen is...I love her. I would do anything for her, but she isn't like you. She is the queen, and I am still her servant. She tells me what to do and where to go because when I'm at court and around her it is my job too. And it's a job I take great pride in."

Mellina crossed her arms and leaned on his slightly.

"But you. You're different. I love you so much. If I lost my place in court tomorrow it would hurt. Maybe more than anything ever has hurt. But I know that I could move on from it if I needed to. Because it's a job. But I don't want to be your servant, Sandor, I want to be your wife. I want us to be partners. Does that make any sense?"

Mellina waited for a response, but all that came was a large arm draping itself across her shoulders, pulling her into her husband's barrel chest with a deep sigh.

"And" she added quietly, "I'm sorry I ignored you. That wasn't nice of me."

"Come to bed" he grumbled, pulling his wife's body with his as he moved up the bed towards the pillows.

He was a man of few words, Mellina knew that. So if this was the only acknowledgment she was getting, she accepted it openly, curling against his chest as his arms locked around her.

Chapter Text

Sweat clung to Mellina's neck and back as she rolled her hips firmly, bolts of pleasure shooting through her body.

If she had known this was what it took to make up for her mean little game, she would have prepared herself more.
Her legs and core ached from effort but Sandor was relentless. Large hands guided her body like a puppet as he growled under her.

"Darling" Mellina whined, "I'm not sure how much more I can take."

"Tired already, sweetling?" Sandor's hand moved from her hip to her face, gently rubbing over her cheek and lingering at her lower lip. "Would you prefer being bent over the chair again?"

Mellina winced, the places where the back of the chair pressed into her soft belly still aching.

"No" She shook her head. "But darling, I need to rest. I can't-"

Sandor chuckled darkly, deciding to take pity on his sweet wife by flipping her over onto her stomach, face pressed into the pillows as she raised her ass for him welcomingly.

When he pushed back into her, he reveled in her squeals, knowing that each thrust into her overstimulated cunt brought her closer and closer to oblivion yet again.

Mellina's small first clutched at the bed sheets as cries and moans of ecstasy were muffled by pillows. Her body was so used, it almost wanted to resist the ravishing she'd endured for what must be hours by now. But her cunt was so wet from constant stimulation and her husband's seed that his cock pushed through her with no effort, hitting her deeper than she thought possible.

"Fuck" she breathed, "Please. Please."

"Please what, my love?" Sandor's hand pressed her spine down into an arch that nearly sent Mellina's eyes to the back of her head.

"Close, so close." she whispered, "Oh fuck."

"Close? I thought you said you couldn't take any more." He taunted her, picking up his pace just to watch her face twist and her lungs gasp to keep up. "Should I stop?"

"No." Mellina begged, "Don't stop, don't. Gods!" she buried her face into the crook of her elbow as her body went rigid for the final time that morning. Sandor slowed his thrusts, letting her ride it out before coming back down.

"Sweet girl." His hand rubbed the small of her back soothingly, "good girl."
She let out a whine gasp when he pulled out, watching with amusement as her hips rolled and bucked as if still hungry for more.
Mellina whined and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her tightly as she could.

Before they could settle back in, a knock came at the door to the chamber.

"Noooooo" Mellina whimpered, trying to pull him back to her as he rose.

"Clegane!" a voice called from the other side of the thick oak door.

"Is someone dead?" Sandor called, fumbling for his trousers.

"...No." The voice replied hesitantly.

"Is someone dying?"

"No, they aren't."

"Then they'd better be by the time I get to that door, or you're going out the fucking window," Sandor replies, stomping towards the door and jerking it open hard.

On the other side of the door, Lord Petyr Baelish stood on the other side, looking rather unintimidated.

Sandor rolled his eyes with a groan, "Fuck's sake, what do you want?"

"My apologies for the intrusion." He began, glancing at Mellina who had just started to come back to herself and reach for her robe. "I won't be but a moment. This is for you."

He handed Sandor a length of parchment rolled up tight.

"Congratulations. You are now Master of Clegane Keep."

Sandor eyed the little man for a moment.
"He's dead then?" He prompted.

"No, Gregor is alive and well." Baelish shook his head, "Much to the displeasure of the good people of the Riverlands. It's all explained in there, very official." He glanced back at Mellina who waved slightly, holding her ride to her cheek before nodding. "I'll leave you two be then."

Mellina wrapped her robe around her tightly and crawled over the bed towards him. "What is it?"

Sandor unrolled the parchment and read carefully, his brows raising in surprise mixed with concern and frustration.

"Good?" Mellina prompted him, "Bad? Give me something to go off of."

"It would seem." Sandor began, settling in a chair while reading slowly. "That Gregor has been declared an enemy of the crown."

"What?" Mellina blinked, "What did he do?"

"He was seen leading a band of brigands through the Riverlands, slaughtering everyone they saw, destroying crops, killing livestock. He rides without a banner or sigil, but from the description, it really couldn't be anyone else."

"I suppose men roughly the height of weight of a full-grown mountain bear are hard to come by." Mellina nodded, "But what does that have to do with us?"

"Well, when Stark declared him an enemy of the Crown, he stripped him of all his lands, holdings, and titles. Normally, in these circumstances, it would all go back to the crown itself, but instead, they decided to pass it down the line of succession."

Mellina blinked for a moment, "Wait, does that mean what I think it means?"
"Apparently." Sandor shook his head, "I am now the Master of House Clegane."

"You don't sound happy." Mellina approached him, slipping off the bed and padding across the stone floor in her bare feet. "Why don't you sound happy?"
"I don't know how to feel." Sandor confessed, "I never really considered this a possibility, so I never bothered to think about it."

"Well," Mellina bit her lip, slipping into his lap, "Can I be happy about it?"

"I don't see why not." Sandor scoffed, setting aside the paper to focus on his wife. "But it's not like it changes much for us."

"It changes everything for me." Mellina insisted. "Sandor, I grew up a street urchin in Flea Bottom. The most I ever hoped for was to find a husband that didn't beat me every night. and now..." She smirked, "I guess I can stop correcting people when they call me Lady Clegane now."

"Since when do you care about position?" Sandor laughed, grabbing her ass teasingly and Mellina laughed with him.

"Since I have one, formally anyway." She informed him, "My children won't be born into squalor, they'll have bright futures. And for that I am happy." 

Sandor looked at his wife thoughtfully, cupping her chin pensively before venturing a small genuine smile. 

"You're going to be a wonderful mother, you know." 

Mellina beamed at this high praise, hugging him around the neck gently with her fingers in his hair. 

"And you will be a wonderful father."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." 

"Oh stop" Mellina scolded him playfully.  "You will be. They say a woman becomes a mother when she conceives her baby, but a father doesn't become a father until he holds his child. You'll see, it will happen."

Sandor didn't respond to that, instead opting to carry his wife back over to the bed, grinning as she yelped in surprise and clung to him to avoid falling. 

-------------------------------------

News of Gregor's crimes spread through the court quickly. 

And while Mellina was able to revel in the high position this put her family in, that didn't change the looks of contempt and fear she received from the other ladies. 

She began to wonder if it might have been smarter to refuse Gregor her favor during the tourney. For now, it seemed Guilt By Association was the phrase of the day. 

"Ignore it" Sandor whispered, "Don't show any emotion one way or the other. It's just another day." 

Mellina stuck to this, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. 

"Good Morning, darling." The queen greeted her as Mellina joined her train of courtiers. 

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"I've heard you and your husband received some good news this morning." Cersei eyed her knowing. 

"We received the news, yes." Mellina eyed those around them who were clearly listening. "My husband and I grieve for the people of the Riverlands, and we hope Gregor is brought swiftly to justice." 

"Of course, a terrible business." Cersei agreed. "But I think we all saw who the better man was after that spectacle at the Hand's tourney, isn't that right?"

The question was posed to the surrounding courtiers who nodded and voice their agreement with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

Mellina smiled at this. 

She couldn't put her finger on how, but there was something viscerally satisfying about watching those who had looked down on her be forced to acknowledge her good fortune. 

When Cersei was pleased enough, the merry group was disbanded and Mellina was left to tend to her mistress alone. 

"I want your counsel" Cersei hooked her arm through Mellina's,  "About Joff"

"You and Lady Sansa both." Mellina laughed. "Apparently I am considered something of an expert on the subject." 

"Sansa and Joff must marry, that much is clear" Cersei began. "But it's getting him down the aisle that's proving a hardship. He shows no enthusiasm for the deed."

"Well" Mellina began, "I have an opinion, but I fear you won't like it." 

"Tell me anyway." Cersei sighed, bracing herself. 

"Prince Joffrey is exceedingly privileged. He is beautiful, strong, and the heir to the iron throne." Mellina cushioned her coming opinion.

"But he sees men like his father, and uncle Jaime, and even Sandor who fight and go out and hunt, and....." she paused before continuing "other things young men are wont to do" 

"And?"

"And he's getting to that age where he's going to want to join the men." Mellina pressed gently, "We both know the prince adores you, but there comes a time when young men must separate from their mothers." 

"But-" Cersei went red-faced and winced, distressed by the idea of her firstborn venturing out into the world. "What do you suggest?" 

"Well," Mellina thought. "When Ser Jaime returns, why don't you ask him to take a stronger in the prince's life? Robert isn't the only man around who can lend a hand."

Cersei sighed but nodded, "I wish my father were here. He'd know what's needed."

"He sounds like an admirable man, my queen" Mellina squeezed her hand. She often missed her own siblings, the closest people Mellina had to parents besides Varys. 

"He is." Cersei nodded with a fond smile. 

"Why not invite him to court?"

"He's busy" Cersei's face fell, "he's always been a rather busy man."

"Well," Mellina rubbed her lover's arm comfortingly. "In the meantime, maybe advise Prince Joffrey to do something simple for Lady Sansa. A gift maybe? Or a favor."

"Maybe" Cersei nodded sagely. "I think I will. Thank you, darling." The queen kissed her cheek sweetly before departing to find the princeling. "I'll be back. Why don't you go enjoy the gardens?"

The summer morning air was blissfully still as Mellina wandered. The flowers were still in bloom, and the shading trees reached over her like giant wings. 

For a moment, it seemed all was right with the world. 

 -----------------------------

Lancel had the look of a madman as he dashed through the garden paths. 

When he spotted a round figure garbed in blue damask silk with chestnut curls carefully braided back into a halo, he rushed her fearfully. 

"My Lady!"

Mellina turned and her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the scarlet-garbed squire covered in blood" 

"Oh gods, Lancel!" She reached for him instinctively and grabbed his skinny arms. "What happened, are you hurt?"

"No, no it's not mine." Lancel babbled, "It's the king's. I-I-I"

Mellina moved quickly to cover his mouth and pulled him into a hug.

"Mind your words," she hissed into his ear so quietly he could barely hear her over his own ragged breathing. "There are ears everywhere. You know that."

Lancel nodded, his arms hanging limply at his sides as she pulled away from the embrace. 

"Now" Mellina pushed his long, flaxen hair behind his ear. "Tell me what happened."

"The king was hurt." He breathed, "He tried to spear a boar but the beast charged him and- and."

"Shshsh" Mellina gushed him, pulling him towards a garden pool and wetting her handkerchief in the water before wiping the blood from his brow slowly. 

"Lancel, you need to listen to me very carefully." She whispered. "Go to your quarters, take off those clothes before anyone else sees you, and do not repeat a single word of what you've told me to anyone. You need to understand this is a very delicate situation. Yes?"

Lancel nodded silently, his blue eyes wide with terror. "Did...did we"

"Hush" she snapped then softened her tone, "we must never speak of it. Not ever. Do you understand?" 

The squire nodded again and Mellina sent him off before taking stock of herself. 

Her hands were shaking, and she was sure she was paler than death itself. 

"Get it together" she whispered to herself. "First things first" 

She had to find the Queen. 

----------------------------

Barristan had beat Mellina to the punch, much to her disappointment. 

The queen was already at her husband's deathbed, but Mellina kept to the outskirts in case she was needed. 

Peering down the stone corridor, Mellina jumped as a hand came down on her shoulder. 

"What are you doing here?" Sandor hissed, clad in plate with his helm under one arm. Hand on the pommel of his broadsword. 

"Same as you, I expect." Mellina whispered, "awaiting our Queen's word." 

"I don't play the husband card often," Sandor breathed, "But you need to go to our rooms, lock the door, and do not open it for anyone who isn't me."

Mellina looked him up and down, noticing for the first time he was prepped for a fight. 

"What's happening that I don't know about?"

"You'll find out later. But for now, you need to leave. If you can find the Stark girls, bring them with you and wait until I come for you." 

Mellina nodded, she knew around this time Sansa would be with her Septa in the atrium. 

She walked swiftly but did not run. Running would call attention to her. 

Sansa was exactly where Mellina knew she would find her. Clad in pale blue and reciting history lessons to her Septa, a kindly old woman. 

"Pardon my intrusion," Mellina announced herself, a fake smile masking her face as she eyed the Septa respectfully. 

"Do you mind terribly if I borrow the Lady Sansa for just a moment?" 

Sansa was grateful to be swept away from her lessons, but her face fell when she detective the tense gleam behind Mellina's eye. 

"My Lady," Mellina spoke quietly, "I need you to come with me. Don't ask questions now, I will explain when we get to my chambers. Now, I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to remain calm."

Sansa nodded slowly, her breath catching. 

"Do you know where your sister is?" 

Sansa shook her head, "with her dancing master I think?"

"Okay, where is that in the castle?"

"I'm not sure" Sansa began to shake. "Did my father send you?"

"No, he is busy for now. But he would want you to get somewhere safe." Mellina decided to leave the younger Stark girl in the hands of her dancing master and hooked Sansa's arm around hers. 

"We are going to walk very calmly but very quickly to my chambers." She whispered and the teen nodded slowly. 

"What about Septa?"

"She'll be fine" Mellina assured her, "you are my concern right now."

The castle had jumped into action and Sansa clung tightly to Mellina as groups of guards passed them, weapons drawn. 

"Keep calm" Mellina whispered. "Not much further" 

The Hound's quarters were not inside the holdfast with the royal family, so their journey was not hampered by King's Guard. 

They were stopped only once. 

"The Lady Sansa is to..."

"The Lady Sansa is to come with me." Mellina drew herself to her full height and pulled her broad shoulders back straight. "On the orders of Sandor Clegane, Sworn Sword to King Joffrey Baratheon."

Their eyes locked but ultimately it was the guard who backed down. "As you were, My Lady" 

"King Joffrey" Sansa paled as Mellina pulled her forward, the door within sight. 

"I couldn't tell you before." Mellina pulled the teen inside and locked the door firmly behind them. For good measure, she grabbed a chair and wedged it under the handle. 

"The king is dead." 

Chapter Text

No historians could ever look back on the reign of King Joffrey Baratheon and say it didn't start with a bang. 

Mellina and Sansa had been holed up for hours before Sandor arrived to free them. Sansa's face was tear-stained but Mellina had no idea how to soothe her. 

It was a frightening situation, she knew it. 
Every once in a while, the door would rattle on its hinges when a body struck it, and the northern lady cried out into her hand to muffle the sobs. 

Mellina could do nothing but hold her and stay brave for them both. 

Sandor's voice was like that of an angel when it was all over. The sun had set and darkness had filled the world outside the window by the time the fighting was finished. 

Mellina unjammed the door and let him in, crying out at the side of blood on his flesh.

 
"Relax, it's not mine" 

Mellina sighed with relief. "would you believe you're the second person to say that to me today?" 
"Aye" her husband nodded, "I would actually." 

"What's happened, where's my father?" Sansa demanded. 

Sandor side-eyed her and Mellina saw a flicker of pity flash behind his eyes, "I'm to bring you to the Queen, it will be easier if you come quietly." 

"She will." Mellina cut in before Sansa could say anything, calmly taking the girl's hand in her own, "You have no reason to be afraid, my dear." 

Before they left, Mellina grabbed Sandor's arm and looked at him hard. 

What happened out there? Her eyes asked him. 
I'll explain later. His replied 

Left alone, Mellina wondered about her next steps. 
Surely the queen would be too busy to have her around. Sandor as well. 

She thought a moment before deciding her best option for the moment was to simply sit on the sidelines and watch as she had in her past life. 

There was a reason Varys had stationed her as a servant in the first place, and that was to watch and listen. 

Redressing into a simple frock, no pattern, dull blue, Mellina knew she would draw no attention. 

The halls were shockingly empty. The sound of her footsteps seemed to echo off the marble. 
Torches were lit to fill the night's darkness, and Mellina watched as the shadows of guards passed over the walls. 

She moved in shadows, eyes peering about curiously as she took in the sites. 
The city watch filled the outer chambers of the keep while the palace guards concentrated their numbers around Maegor's Holdfast.

It must be terribly late, she realized. 

From here she could make out the outer balcony of the tower. Slowly she crept closer until she could look over the railing and take in a sky view of the keep below. 

She could see groups of torches bouncing down corridors in unison. 

She could smell the smoke from the bonfires lit in every open space available, emanating a flickering orange glow. 

She could hear the sounds of screams that were quickly cut short by castle-forged steel. 

"Stark's household...or what's left of it." a cool voice came from behind her. "you're out late, My Lady "

"Spent all day locked up, Lord Baelish" Mellina smirked, turning to face him. "I thought a walk might do me good" 

"A beautiful night for it." he agreed. "May I keep you company?"

She shrugged, taking the lead as they made their way down the canopied corridor. 

"Sandor still hasn't told me what happened." Mellina began. "Care to fill me in?"

"Ned Stark turned traitor" Baelish explained. "He tried to remove the queen's children from the line of succession, claiming they were bastard born"

"How terrible" Mellina's tone didn't change. "and treasonous" 

"Very, with the king's body barely cold" 

Mellina thought a wink

"Surely he did not work alone though"

"That's what we're trying to determine" the Master of Coin nodded. "we have most of his household in the dungeons, but the King has declared no quarter is to be given to suspected traitors"

Mellina shuttered at that, knowing the ones killed instantly were the lucky ones. 

"A rather ominous end to a day that started well for you, I fear."

"I can only pray it all settles right in the end." she brushed it off.

"Yes," Baelish let a small grin slip. "You've proven yourself very adept at landing on your feet. Recently it seems you've been landing even higher than you were when you fell, now that is a clever trick you must teach me someday."

"I've had remarkably good fortune." Mellina agreed, "And I am very grateful to those who have helped me."

Baelish grabbed Mellina's elbow gently, stopping their stroll. 

"We're not all that different, you and I." he asserted. "It might behoove us to enter this new reign with new friends"

Mellina looked him up and down coolly and smiled, prying his grip off her arm. 

"I have seen what becomes of your friends, Lord Baelish" she sniffed. "and while I admit I know this castle better than most, I have no desire to acquaint myself with the black cells."

"Baelish." 

The voice down the hall echoed off the arched ceiling like thunder. 

"That hand on my wife had better not belong to you."

Baelish's grin became sharp and bitter, his hand falling from Mellina quickly. 

"I wouldn't dream of it, Clegane" he assured the guard as he approached them, each step harrolled by the clammer of armor. 

"Must have been the light then."

Mellina smiled in the firelight. "Husband"

"You shouldn't be wandering"

"You shouldn't have left me alone" she shot back playfully before glancing at the lord next to her. "Good night to you, Lord Baelish"

"Good night" he nodded, "I expect we will see each other again soon."

.........................................

The first official day of King Joffrey's reign welcomed fair weather.

Because of this Mellina almost resented being stuck inside. 

It was strange to be wearing all black for a man she had hated. But, Joffrey had declared 1 month of full mourning for his late father for the whole court. 

"You'd think he actually loved his father," Mellina muttered and her husband shrugged.

"I don't know if love is the word I'd use."

Full mourning meant that the newly widowed Cersei could not receive guests until the month was done, at least not without raising questions. 

Sandor was glad of this, though he'd never say it out loud. 

Lady Sansa was kept sequestered in the tower of the hand until it could be decided what to do with her. 

To Mellina's dismay, Arya Stark had not been found. The thought of the 11-year-old alone in King's Landing made her stomach turn. 

"We need to find her!" Mellina insisted one day, wrought with frustration and fear. "She's just a little girl! She must be so frightened and-" 

"The City Watch is doing the best they can." Sandor tried to soothe her. "They'll find her."

"You don't understand, you don't-!" she was on the edge of sobs. Sandor was at a loss as his wife half collapsed into his, gripping at his shirt half hysterical.

"You don't understand. I've seen it, I've seen what they do to little girls like her who don't have anyone to look out for them. They need to find her before something awful happens."

By the end of the mourning period, it was finally time. 

Ned Stark was to face justice for his crimes, sentenced to death by beheading. 

But Sandor assured her it was the King's intention to show mercy and allow Lord Stark to take the black.

Mellina was glad to be out of black. 

Cersei, after having cloistered herself, practically melted into her lover's arms as soon as she arrived in the royal quarters. 

"You have no idea how miserable it's been trying to keep a handle on all of" she gestured proudly around her, "well this. But it's finally coming together and I'm glad of it."

Cersei's face fell, pulling away from the embrace and feeling on Mellina's wide waist before giving her breast a squeeze. 

"Ow? Why?" Mellina gasped, cradling her chest indignantly. 

"Mother's Mercy, how far along are you?"

"What?" Mellina scoffed, "I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. I think I would know."

"Don't be ridiculous, look at you." Cersei insisted. "how long has it been since you've bled?"

"I bled last month." Mellina tried to remember. "It was light, but I did bleed" 

"How light?" Cersei pressed, "Does Sandor know?"

"There's nothing to know!"

"Darling, please." Cersei scoffed "I had 3 children, I know what it looks like."

"I'll visit Pycelle after," Mellina said reluctantly. 

"Good" Cersei nodded, satisfied. "Now, I want you nearest me at the sept today. I love my son dearly but I could throttle him for keeping us apart"

"a trait he got from his father," Mellina half-joked, and Cersei felt a chord snap with a jolting twang in her stomach.

If Mellina did know the truth, she thought, she was doing an excellent job hiding it. 

____________________

Mellina looked herself over in the mirror critically. Maybe her round face was fuller. And maybe her dresses had been fitting a little tighter. 

But she would have noticed, right?

"Sandor?"

"Hm."

"Do I look....bigger?"

There was a long silence.

"This feels like a trap."

"No, I mean..." Mellina sighed, there was no getting around it.  "I'm visiting Pycelle after the thing."

Sandor paused, sitting up a little straighter. 

"Really?"

"Don't say it like that," she begged.

"Why not?"

"Because I might not be." Mellina sighed, "Or I am, and something might happen"

She didn't dare hope for the best. It would all be too much if they were mistaken. 

So many things could go awry, and it felt like hope was an egg balancing on the edge of a blade. 

One wrong move, one misstep, and it was over.

"Hey," a hard hand grabbed hers, squeezing it. "Breathe"

She obeyed, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. 

"We'll discuss it more when we know for sure." Sandor decided. "Let's just get through this morning first." 

Chapter Text

Both Cersei and Mellina were pale as death and silent as the grave on the carriage ride back to the Keep.

That could not have gone worse if it tried.

Now not only would they have to contend with Stanis and Renly, but the entirety of the North would be howling for the Lannisters' blood.

When the carriage stopped, they were escorted by Kings Guard past rows of gathered courtiers who no doubt had already heard the news. 

Wide and curious eyes watched them, but Mellina's mind was still on the sets of The Great Sept. 

Lady Sansa's wails

The cries that filled the crowd when Illyn Payne drove the blade of Stark's own Valyrian steel sword through his neck.

The way Ned Starks head dropped from his neck with a rush of gore only to be presented to the crowd like a trophy. 

"Remember uh-" Cersei blinked as if struggling to keep track of her thoughts. "Remember to go see Pycelle."

"Oh," it had been the furthest thing from her mind, "Yes, Your Grace."

Pycelle listened carefully as Mellina explained everything. 

"I can inspect you if you like My Lady" he sighed, "But it sounds to me like you already know the answer." 

"All the same" she nodded, "I need to know for sure." 

_______________________

Three months.

It was just an estimation, of course. But an educated one. 

It didn't feel right to tell anyone today. 

Mellina was on strict orders to avoid riding, lifting heavy objects, and bathing in hot water. 

"Keep drinking the tea I gave you" the old man insisted, "it is important to keep the body in a constant state of balance."

Balance, Mellina now understood, was in preciously short supply. 

Sandor found her sitting in the window of their shared quarters. 

He waited patiently for the news, but when none came, he nodded. 

"We can keep trying, Love" he assured her, "There's no rush."

"I'm 3 months in," she corrected him. "at least we think."

Sandor withheld his smile. "You're worried"

His wife nodded slowly. 

"I thought I would be bringing my children into a better world than mine was" She gazed through the thick glass windowpane, dark eyes stormy like the sea. "But now I am wondering if I've just made things so much worse for them."

"Do you mean what happened at the sept?" Sandor scoffed, "My love, you had no hand in that."

His wife turned to look at him with hard eyes, her soft lips drawn into a hard line as she tried desperately to communicate something she hadn't the words for. 

Sandor frowned; a tight knot twisted in his stomach as he searched her face. 

"Mellina," he said her name in a slow, firm voice that commanded respect. "You had no hand in that. Yes?"

Mellina looked away, body trembling as Sandor covered his mouth with his hand, trying to make sense of this.

"What did you do?" 

Tears began to spill over Mellina's face, "I'm so sorry."

" Fuck  sorry" Sandor growled, "you need to tell me exactly what happened. Now."

"It was Essence of Nightshade" she whispered, "in his wine skin. It was supposed to be a quick death but..."

Sandor paled and covered her mouth.  

"NO. Not another word" he hissed, "who else knows about this?" 

"Lancel, his squire." Mellina whimpered, "I gave him the bottle. He said he threw it away in the King's Wood so no one would ever find it." 

Sandor was shaking, both with anger and with terror. 

He needed a moment, just to breathe. 

"Stay here" he growled lowly. "Stay right here, do  NOT  leave. And never in your life speak another word about this to anyone. It never happened, is that clear?"

Mellina could only nod, if she tried to speak it would only come out as sobs. 

She had ruined everything; she knew that now. 

War was coming. 

-------------------------------------------

Lancel had never known fear as he had felt it with the Hound looming over him. 

"Please, ser" he whimpered "Please, don't-"

"I don't want to kill you, boy" Clegane growled.

The Kingswood was dark and lifeless at this time of night. Not a soul would have heard his screams. 

"Please believe me, I won't ever speak of word of it to anyone. I swear that by all the Gods, Old and New."

"I know you won't" Sandor was a black shadow in the darkness. "Because here is what's going to happen. Tonight, right now, we are going to go see Kettleback, and he is going to knight your idiot ass. After that, you are going to write your lord father and tell him you are ready to marry anyone, and I mean  anyone , to get you out of the capital. You're going to leave, get married, and never,  in your life , speak of this again." 

Lancel was shaking with horror but nodded as he felt like he should get out of this ordeal alive. 

"Tell me you understand, or I will bury you in these woods boy." 

"I understand. I do."

"Good."

_____________________________

 Sandor said nothing of it when Mellina woke the next morning. 

When she'd finally fallen asleep, she'd been alone, wondering if she would even have a husband when the sun rose. 

But when the dawn came, she found his form pressed against her and her heart flooded with relief when she realized he had not left her. 

At least not yet. 

Neither of them spoke as Mellina dressed for the day, but her dark eyes flicked back to him constantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I've been thinking." He finally said as they made their way to the great hall.

"Yes?"

"It might be better for you to spend the rest of the pregnancy at Clegane Keep." He posited the idea more as a fact than a question. "It's quiet there, and smaller so you won't be on your feet as much. I'd feel more comfortable if I knew you were somewhere safe."

Mellina gawked. 

She hadn't been outside the Keep alone since she was a child. Clegane Keep was in the far west, past even Lannisport. 

Her heart clenched. 

He was sending her away to be rid of her. She's made a horrible mistake telling him, and now he thought she was a monster and wanted nothing to do with her.

"If you think that's best." she breathed, "I will go." 

"We'll need the king's blessing first. Courtiers aren't allowed to leave court without clearance from the monarch." He explained, "It should be easy enough if he's in a good mood."

"I should tell the queen." Mellina breathed. Cersei would not take this well. Perhaps she would fight for Mellina to stay. 

"Not yet" Sandor shook his head, "Wait until we get the go-ahead." 

Mellina looked at her feet and nodded. 

Sandor sighed and lifted her chin to look at him, making a concentrated effort not to look angry.

"This isn't a punishment, my love." he assured her, "War is coming, we both know that. And I want you as far out of the crosshairs as you can get." 

This made her feel better, even if it was a lie. 

The Hall was mostly empty, occupied by a few King's Guards stationed around the Iron Throne, and Varys. 

"Ah," His face perked up when he saw them enter, "I hear congratulations are in order."

"The dear Grandmaester talks too much, I fear." Mellina forced a smile, biting back the urge to scream I Told You So in his hairless face. 

"Well, all my prayers are with you Lady Clegane." The Spider assured her. "But I expected you to be resting in your condition, whatever are you doing here?"

"Mind your business, Spider." Sandor snapped and Varys reeled back in mock offense. 

"His Majesty, The King, and the Queen Mother." A Herald announced and Mellina perked up. 

The boy king was all a glow in red and gold brocade, tailed by his mother dressed in a matching style with her golden locks gathered atop her head. 

The collective of underlings bowed respectfully as Joffrey ascended the throne. 

"Alright, let's get this over with." He grumbled, readying for his first audience as king "Bring the interesting ones first." 

"If it please, your grace." Sandor cut in, "I have a request I fear is rather urgent, if you will hear it." 

Joffrey looked interested. 

He couldn't recall a time when his loyal hound wanted anything more than to kill someone. 

"Please." The boy sat up a little straighter. 

"As your grace has likely been told, my lady wife is pregnant. I would like your leave to send her to Clegane Keep for the remainder of her term."

Joffrey shrugged and opened his mouth to grant this request, but Cersei cut in quick as a flash. 

"Don't be ridiculous," she said too earnestly. "I mean, such a trip would be too strenuous for a pregnant woman."

"I will ask the Grand Maester to give his clearance before going ahead," Sandor eyed her challengingly. 

Cersei smirked knowingly, Pycelle was her creature through and through. 

"Let us ask him then. Lord Varys, please summon the Grandmaester, won't you?" 

Pycelle arrived with surprising speed for a man his age, bowing and scraping as usual.

"Grandmaester, " Cersei began prodding. "We were just discussing the possibility of Lady Clegane residing in the Westerlands for the remainder of her pregnancy. "

"Ah." Pycelle nodded, "Yes I had suspected such action might take place. I did conduct a thorough exam of Lady Clegane in anticipation of this." 

"And would you not say a trip so long might be hazardous in her condition?" Cersei's eyes flashed, making the old man squirm like a worm. 

"Well, I would say that in these circumstances, it would be ill-advised to travel within the first and last few months." He nodded, "I'd advise around the 6-month mark, it would be alright." 

This was not the answer Cersei wanted but it was already out in the court. 

Sandor's skin prickled with irritation, but he nodded, "Six months then. If it pleases the king." 

"It does." Joffrey had grown bored with the subject. "Let us move on to more interesting topics." 

"Mellina, my love." 

Mellina's heart caught. Cersei never referred to her by her first name outside her quarters. 

"Yes, my queen."

"You've been very quiet." Cersei nodded, staring at her deeply with eyes full of expectation. "What do you think of all of this?"

Mellina swallowed hard and her mouth went dry. She didn't want to disagree with anyone, least of all Cersei.

"I-" she croaked. 

The pressure of a large hand taking hers calmed her a moment, enough to allow her to reply. 

"I want whatever is best for my child, your grace." 

Cersei's face was friendly but cold, and her eyes shifted to Sandor, narrowing. "Very well, 6 months." 

-----------------------------------------------

Mellina stayed for the rest of the king's court hearing, but The Queen insisted she sit rather than stand. 

Lords and Ladies come forward with petty requests, mostly solidifying that the things they had asked for under Robert's reign would remain as they were. 

Next came the common folk to petition for safer lives, more food, and less taxes. 

None of those would come, but it would be good to at least let them make the request. 

Next came sentencings. 

Under Robert, sentences for criminals would be announced to the court but carried out in private. 

Joffrey had a different method. 

The first was a gang of thieves who had been robbing the wealthier residents of the capital just outside the Keep walls. 

They were sentenced to death by hanging, and Mellina had expected them to be dragged out to the gibbet. 

She had not expected a rope to be thrown over a beam and the criminals hanged in open court. 

A few courtiers explained in horror, but most had the good sense to remain silent as the grave. 

Mellina looked to Cersei who was maintaining an iron front the whole time. 

She must do the same, she knew. 

She was a killer after all, wasn't she? 

Her methods had been less direct, but someone died all the same and she had meant for it to happen. 

A few petty thieves lost their hands. 

A rapist his manhood. 

And a singer his tongue.

The whole time, Mellina remained silent and tried to look without actually seeing. 

Sandor was right, she realized, he wasn't sending her away as punishment. 

She needed to get out of here.

Chapter Text

The following months could only be described as a gradual descent into madness. 

Mellina was over the moon, but constantly terrified of any risks to her baby. 
She followed Grandmaester Pycelle's instruction to the letter, often seeing him more than she saw her own husband. 

Sandor's duties only increased when Joffrey went from Prince to King. 
He was gone all day and most nights. The time he did have free was spent sleeping. 

After learning of his wife's treasons, Sandor tried to convince Mellina to distance herself from the queen. 
Any risk of the truth being known was too much. 

Mellina tried to blame her distance on her pregnancy. Her swollen ankles and aching hips that made too much movement uncomfortable. 
But Cersei was having none of it. 

"I thought you said he was fine with this."

Mellina winced when Cersei snapped at her. 

"He is my queen. That isn't why I'm leaving."

"What is it then?" The Queen opened her arms and motioned around. "Are you no longer happy here?"

"It's not that at all, please," Mellina begged. 

Cersei was at the end of her rope. 

It had been months since Joffrey took the throne, and the Baratheon forces were nearly pounding on the city doors. 

Both Stannis and Renly were rallying men to fight for their respective causes, while Cersei was forced to sit back and watch as Tyrion took over the duties of Hand of the King. 

"Explain it to me then!"

"I am trying." Mellina snapped. 

The last two months had been hell. 

Her whole body ached. Her mind was half clouded, and she struggled most days to remember small things and keep a straight train of thought.
Her middle had begun to expand outward to accommodate the child in her womb, who had begun to move and kick within her. 

"After everything I have done for you." Cersei sounded close to tears with anger. "All the privilege and the help I have given, and you want to abandon me when I need you the most!" 

"I never wanted to hurt you, that is the last thing I would ever want to do" Mellina tried to soothe her. "But I have my family to think of."

"The family I gave you!" Cersei roared, "You were a low-born servant, little more than a slave when we met. Robert wanted you dead! He wanted you whipped through the streets naked and hanged for treason! But I saved you. I did that!"

"Your Grace, please." Mellina tried to remain the voice of reason. "This is doing neither of us any good." 

The slap nearly knocked Mellina's soul out of her body. It was as if she could watch herself take the blow in slow motion. 
Her face burned and her eyes watered from the pain as she began to taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. 

"Don't you dare presume to speak to me that way, you hateful little slut!" The queen hissed. 

Mellina recovered from the blow quick enough to see Cersei's hand fly again, striking the other side of her face this time. 

The Queen's royal rings caught her temple, making Mellina cry out this time in pain. 

"Out!" Cersei commanded, "I want you out! I don't want to see your ungrateful face. Go let your precious hound mount you like the bitch you are!"

Mellina found her way back to her chambers with tears in her eyes but stumbled back with a gasp when she struck someone's chest. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered and tried to move aside but a gentle grip caught her. 

"Lady Clegane?"

She knew that voice. 

"Lady Sansa." She breathed, keeping her back turned. "I am very sorry, my lady. I wasn't watching where I was going, please forgive me." 

The hand pulled her back until Mellina was forced to face the teen. Sansa was unusually tall for her age, putting her almost four inches taller than Mellina herself. 

"Did he do this to you?" Sansa breathed, taking in the damage slashed across Mellina's face. 
The gash on her temple was still bleeding and her left eye had begun to blacken. 

"He?"
"The Hound."

"Oh!" Mellina gasped, "No! Forgive me my lady but my husband would never raise a hand to me."

"Who did this?" Sansa inquired, who would be so presumptuous to put their hands on the Queen Regent's favorite? 

Mellina did not answer right away but figured if anyone would or could understand, it would be her. 

"I'm sure you've discovered that Lannisters....can be hard people to serve," Mellina explained blandly, but Sansa caught her meaning. 

"The queen did this to you?" 

"Don't worry about me, little bird." Mellina forced a smile across her face, "I have a funny way of always landing on my feet. It will be okay." 

"I-" Sansa thought for a moment, "Why don't you accompany me to the docks to see off Princess Marcella?"

"Oh, My Lady," Mellina winced sympathetically, "That would not be wise. You have it hard enough here as it is, I cannot allow you to interfere in my troubles." 

"I will be queen one day." Sansa cut in, "One day rather soon. And I think it would be a good idea to establish myself in court. To make friends."

Mellina smiled genuinely this time; this little girl was much braver than she looked. 
"You know, when we left Winterfell, I promised your mother I would look out for you and your sister." She glanced down sheepishly, "I fear so far I have been something of a failure. But if you will allow, I would like to give it a second go." 

Sansa looked relieved and nodded, "I would like that very much, Lady Clegane. So, you will escort me to the docks?"

"It would be my honor, my lady." Mellina nodded. 
---------------------------------------------------------

"I'll kill her."

"Sandor, no." 

"You're leaving." Sandor paced their chambers with long strides, an angry haze radiating off him like heat off steel. "Today, I don't care what Pycelle says. Pack only what you need, I'll send the rest." 

"Darling." Mellina grabbed him, "Darling, stop. I am fine."

"You are not fine." He reeled on her so quickly Mellina stumbled back, "Look at you, I'm tired of this. I am tired of worrying every time she calls for you. This is not the first time, and it will not be the last." 

"She's been under a lot of pressure, that is all" Mellina insisted, "With Ser Jaime, and the Baratheons, and the princess being sent away tomorrow."

"Why are you making excused for her?"
"Because-" Mellina trembled with frustration, "Because-"

"Because why?"
"I don't know!" She finally replied in what she didn't realize was a yell. 

Sandor stared at her, a mix of frustration, anger, and even fear playing across his face. 

"You need to leave now. Not tomorrow, not next month, now." 

"I can't" She confessed, "I'm sorry I can't."

"What the fuck not?"

"Because" Mellina breathed, "I swore to Catelyn Stark I would watch out for her daughters while they were in King's Landing. So far I have been a miserable failure but tomorrow I am escorting Lady Sansa to the docks and back to see off Princess Marcella."

"The fuck you are!"

"I am!" 

The silence behind them became thicker and thicker until Sandor broke. 

"Fine." He sighed, "Fine fine fine. But I will be watching you every step of the way. One thing goes wrong and you're both going back to the castle, I don't care if I need to carry you." 

"Fine" Mellina nodded.

"But" Sandor growled, flicking open the clasps of a large, leather-strapped chest and fumbling through the contents. "You are taking this with you. I will hear no arguments on that."

He handled her the leather-wrapped handle of a 6-inch dagger. The honed edge shone in the sunlight and Mellina swallowed hard. 

"It's been a while." she confessed, "I don't you if I remember-"

"If you've used one before, you'll remember." Sandor assured her, "The body remembers."
------------------------------------------------------
The walk back to the Keep was silent between the royal family. 
No one had been happy to watch Princess Marcella leave.

 She was always a sweet girl, Mellina thought, far too young to be shipped off for marriage. 

As the procession made its way through the city streets, the hair on Mellina's neck pricked up. They were being watched. 

Not in the usual way the royals were gawked at, not this gaze had malice behind it. 

Mellina looked back to her husband who looked over King Joffrey like a shadow. Slipping her arm into Lady Sansa's, Mellina nudged her. 

"Something is wrong," she whispered. "Can you feel it?"

"They're all watching us." Sansa nodded. 

No one would ever know where exactly the first clod came from, but its pitcher had an incredible aim. It struck the king right in the temple and set off a maelstrom of chaos. 

Mellina grabbed Sansa's arm and pulled her close to her body protectively, the other arm wrapped around the growing mound of her stomach. 

Sandor secured the king while the King's Guard and City Watch tried to contain the crowd. 

Wild hands grasped for them, trying with all their might to drag any noble they could into the chaos. 

The High Septon was one of the first to fall. 

Mellina heard the manic cries of the small folk turn to cheers as they tore the man limb from him, brandishing arms and legs like trophies and breaking apart his sacred crystal crown between them. 

Mellina's heart sank when the watch's men began to falter, and she snatched Sansa's hand tightly. 

"Run." She choked. 

"What?"

"Do not ask questions just run, run to the keep, and do not stop." Mellina looked for Sandor but could not find him. 

It was up to her. 

Breaking into a sprint, Mellina dragged Sansa behind her as they made for the Red Keep. The teen huffed and panted but kept pace, running like her life depended on it. 

Their steps were dogged by smallfolk baying for noble blood. Desperate for the flesh of those who lived so well while their children starved. 

"Here." She jerked Sansa into an alley, "We need to lose them, keep going."

The detour threw their pursuers off for a moment, but not long enough. 
Sooner than Mellina hoped, they were back on their heels, and she cried out when she felt a hand grab a fist full of her hair. 

"No!" Sansa screamed, turning only to be caught by two men who dragged her to the ground. 

Mellina was stunned at first, but when she felt a weight on her she kicked as hard as she could. Throwing her attacker off, Mellina scrambled to her feet, pressing herself against the brick wall as her attacker rounded on her. 

He was a thin man with stringy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. For half a second, Mellina thought she knew him. 
But that didn't matter now, as he ran for her and pinned her against the wall. His hands wrapped around her throat and pressed firmly cutting off her air and making her eyes go wide. 

He never said a word, only throttling her with all his strength as she tried weakly to push him off, flailing her limbs and trying to thrash out of his grip. 

Her vision became soft around the edges as she fumbled, she knew what she needed. 

Did she bring it?
She must have. 
Where was it?

The man's grip went slack and Mellina filled her lungs with a gasp that burned like liquor. 
The man hobbled back, clutching at his chest as blood blossomed through his shirt. 
Another slice cut through his side, then another sent the tip of the dagger through his eyes before Mellina turned to the two men who were holding down a thrashing Sansa who screamed louder than one might think possible. 

Sansa gasped as the man that was forcing her knees apart stiffened and then fell onto her. Spurred forward by her escort's aggression, she fought even harder to turn on the man that pinned her arms and bit him fiercely as Mellina lunged at him, her dagger coated in his comrades' blood. 

When the men were dead, Mellina leaned against the wall, panting hard. 
Her eyes struggled to focus but when they did, they landed on the man who attacked her. 

Leaning closer, Mellina rolled him on his back with her foot. 
She did know him. 

She struggled to remember. 
It must have been so long ago. 

"My Lady" she breathed, "Those men, let me see their faces."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Sansa propped up both men with a look of disgust and Mellina looked them over, hobbling forward to get a better look. 

Gods

"We need to go."

"Do you know these men?"

Mellina didn't answer. She attempted to put weight on her right leg and cried out in pain. 
"We need to leave." 

Sandor hadn't even realized Mellina and Sansa had disappeared and he hated himself for it. 

Before anyone could command him to stay, He pushed through the crowd, slashing at those bold enough to try him, and looked over their heads, trying to catch a glance of his wife and her young friend. 

Bulldozing his way through peasants, Sandor's breath caught when he caught sight of pink silk drenched in gore. 

Sansa had Mellina supported on her shoulder, his wife leaning half on her and half against the wall. 

Sandor wasn't sure how many people were killed to get to them, but he was sure he didn't care. 

"You were supposed to go back to the keep!"

"Fuck off" was all Mellina had the strength to say. 

Sandor picked them both up, trying to be careful of Mellina's stomach as he carried them both into the keep. 

When he put them down Sansa was on Mellina in a heartbeat. 
"You saved me." she wept. "You killed those men."

"I was in just as much trouble as you were, My Lady." Mellina tried to laugh, wrapping her arms around Sansa "Couldn't very well like the rapers have their fun without a fight." 

"Your Leg" Sansa remembered with a gasp. 

Mellina looked down and cringed at the sight. 
She was fairly certain her ankle was not supposed to bend that way, and with the adrenaline wearing off the pain began to radiate through her foot and up her leg. 

"Take the little bird back to her cage." Sandor snarled at Sansa's handmaidens as he picked his wife back up. "Where the fuck are the maesters?" 

Mellina was not free to even breathe until she had a full examination. 

No damage had been done beyond some bruising around her throat and a badly broken ankle. She had nearly bitten through the leather strap between her teeth when Osney Kettleblack reset the bone under Pycelle's watchful eye. 

Whatever curses she might have been laying on the Kettleblack name were muffled by pain and cowhide

"Milk of the poppy twice a day for 3 months, and don't put your weight on it."

"2 months?" Mellina scoffed, "Great, now I get to go west with a baby and a broken ankle."

"My Lady I'm afraid that after this I cannot condone traveling west." Pycelle shook his head in disapproval. "I fear you will have to finish out your term here in the keep." 

Mellina growled, wanting to swear but not wanting to disturb the dotty old Maester. 

"Come on" Sandor grumbled, equally displeased. "Don't get used to being carried like this."

When they returned to the tower, they had fallen silent. 
Mellina was exhausted, but she could not take her mind off those men. Those faces. 
She asked for a bath to be drawn so she could scrub off the filth of the city. 
Sandor was brooding. More than usual. He was reluctant to be more than a few feet from her and hovered as she bathed. 

"Mellina."

"Sandor?"

"I-" he growled, "I should have been there. I told you I would keep you both safe and-"

"Your job is to keep the King alive." Mellina cut in, "And you did that. "

The silence was overwhelming. 

"I killed those men." she swallowed, sinking deeper into the water. "I didn't even think about it, I moved and next thing I knew they were dead and I had killed them."

Sandor nodded, "You did what you had to do. Don't linger on it." 

"I-" She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry, "I think I might have known them."

"What?"

"I knew them," Mellina repeated, clearer this time. "From before."

"How?"
"I don't know." Mellina sniffed, "But I did, I knew their faces. And now I can't stop thinking about them. And I shouldn't because they would have killed us both, I know that. But-"

Sandor's hand found her shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

"Don't" he urged, "Don't do that to yourself. You saved yourself and you saved that girl. Now you're going to rest, you going to heal and have our baby, and then you're going west, and you will be safe. That is all you need to be thinking about."

Mellina looked back at him, eyes searching his face before nodding. 
"I'll try." 

Chapter Text

News of Lord Renly's death swept the court and Mellina was genuinely sorry to hear of it.

She had only met Renly a few times, but each time he had been kind to her.

But with Renly now dead, Stannis had claimed his remaining forces and tripled the size of his army.
It did not take a genius to understand that King's Landing was under threat.

According to The Master of War, they were only a few weeks away by ship.
As the fleet drew closer, Mellina received a surprising invitation.

It had been 2 months since she had stood in the presence of Queen Cersei. They hadn't looked at each other, they hadn't spoken to or about one another.

Mellina refused to be the first to crack.
She wasn't the same scared girl who had followed the Lion Queen across the continent nearly a year ago, now she was a lady, the wife of one of the fiercest men in Westeros, and soon to be a mother.
She would not crack.

"The Queen wished to see you, My Lady."
Lancel looked pale and skittish. Mellina figured the knowledge that his first real war was looming just beyond the water's edge was wearing on him.

"You should get some rest." She counseled him. "You look tired."

Sandor wanted to come with her, lest she return with fresh cuts and bruises, but Mellina would allow him to escort her to the royal quarters.
Even with the crutch Pycelle provided, walking proved to be a challenge.

Her ankle had healed enough to bear a little weight, but her pregnant belly made it hard to keep her balance.

Cersei was waiting for her with a jug of red and two chalices laid out with cakes and cheeses. She kept no handmaids about for their visit.

"You're looking better." Was the first thing she said. "Please sit."

"Many thanks, Your Grace." Mellina nodded, moving to sit carefully grunting a little as she did.

"Mellina." Cersei sighed, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Mellina smiled a little, relieved.
"It's all but forgotten, my queen."

"No" Cersei shook her head. "I was angry, frustrated with my brother and the council, and his grace. And I took it out on you. That wasn't right of me."
This show of accountability left Mellina speechless in the best of ways. She almost wanted to pull Sandor in and say "Look, see. I told you."

"You must be famished." Cersei moved to pour the wine, "I know I was in my final days. "

"My Queen. Forgive me, I am so happy we're speaking again." Mellina confessed, accepting the chalice gladly. "I love my husband, but...I missed you so much. I was like someone had punched a hole out of my chest and left an empty space."

Cersei smiled a little, taking a deep drink of the wine and motioning for Mellina to do the same. She obeyed.

"Pycelle says I should drink too much wine or ale" Mellina filled the air with her words, not noticing the queen had gone silent.
"He says it might hurt the baby, but it's so late in. Only two more months now. Surely just a glass or two wouldn't hurt."

"Of course not" Cersei brushed off the Grandmaester as if he were nothing more than a sideshow magician. "Drink as much as you like my pet." Cersei took her hand, squeezing it and Mellina felt as if she was squeezing her heart.
"I am so glad you're back where you belong."

They drank and laughed together into the evening.
Mellina ventured another glass of wine. It tasted different this time, less sweet.
The drink had an herby, earthy taste to it, different from the Reds and Golds they usually drank.
She glanced into the cup and found the liquid to be dark, almost black.

"What vintage is this? I don't know that I've ever tasted it before."

Cersei paused and smiled, "Oh just, something I have been working on. We have land in the Arbor, as you know. With the King nearly grown, soon he won't need his mother's help, so I've taken up a new hobby."

Mellina nodded, struck suddenly by how heavy her head was on her neck. She must have drunk too much.

Setting the chalice aside, Mellina tried to focus her vision.

"I beg your pardon," she swallowed, finding her throat dry and acidic, "But I think I'm a little drunk, I should-"

Her body grew intolerably hot, but no sweat came to cool her. She tried to stand, reaching for her crutch but her fingers fumbled against the wood's grain and it fell to the floor.

Mellina looked to the queen and found her vision doubling, the world around her swaying and tilting as the sound of her own panting filled her head.

"My Queen-"

"Sh, sh, sh, sh" Cersei watched her with stony eyes, calm as can be.
"Hush now, love."

"Please."

"This needed to happen, Mellina," Cersei explained. "I would have told you if I thought you'd understand. But that's fine because I'm handling it. Just relax and let it happen."

Mellina's body was on fire, and if she had the strength, she would have been desperately trying to peel her gown and small clothes off for some relief.

A pain was growing in her belly, which made her heart race as she frantically tried to will it away.

No, she begged the gods for help. No please, please help me. Please don't let this happen.

The Queen was trying to kill her.
Varys' word to her rang in Mellina's ears.
"There's more than one way to be rid of the troublesome wife."

No, Mellina would have sobbed if it hadn't felt like every drop of water had been sucked from her body, leaving her stiff and burning.

She tried to rise once again, pushing herself from the chair only to crash onto the carpet. Her ankle screamed with pain as she tried to crawl across the floor, desperate to make it to the door.

Cersei rose as this, grabbing Mellina's arm and flinging her limply onto her back.

To Mellina's horror, Cersei knelt between her legs and lifted her skirts critically.
What was she looking for?

"Not yet" she grumbled, looking down on her lover pitilessly.

Mellina lay on the ground for what felt like hours.

The blurred edges of her vision crept inward until the whole world was a blur. No hard or defined lines, only masses, and shapes.
Her ears felt as if they were plugged with cotton, every sound was muffled save for her own breathing.

She felt like a dry dead tree thrown on the fire, the heat never letting up for even a moment as the pain that started in her belly spread up to her spine and down through every muscle in her legs.

She wasn't to rise. To run.
But when she tried, her body began to shake uncontrollably.
Her movements were no longer her own and she felt the muscles of her throat being to seize and shake along with every other particle in her body.

Mellina could vaguely hear Cersei begin to call for aid.

She was momentarily aware of hands gripping her because their touch only made the fire burn hotter. She must still be thrashing because the hands held her tighter.

People were talking, yelling even, but she would not make out the words.

She was moving, and the slight breeze that blew across her brow felt like heaven.

I'm dying, she wanted to say, there's no saving me.
I should have let Sandor come.
I shouldn't have gone at all.
I never should have gone to the docks.
We never should have agreed to wait 3 more months before leaving.

Wherever she was, it was dark.
Or had her vision gone completely?

She could hear the frantic sounds of movement.
She felt hands gripping her body to move it around as needed.

She was completely unaware of her body outside of the heat.
Where were her arms?
Were her legs still there?
Was her head simply floating around, unattached?

It was hard to tell.

Then came the pain.

The real pain.

Pain Mellina had no concept of until right at this moment, and even now it was so overwhelming she couldn't comprehend it.

It was as though her body was being slowly torn apart at the seams.

Her very being was forced to condense and expand on the whim of some unseen and unknowable force, and she was powerless to stop it.

She had no concept of how long the pain had racked her body. It could have been 10 hours just as easily as it could have been 10 minutes.

And all at once, the pain was over.

She wasn't sure if she had blacked out, or if she had died, but her body had altogether gone slack, and she had never been so grateful for anything in her life.

Her skin still burned, but some angel from heaven had begun to lay cool clothes soaked in cold water over her body.

Someone was speaking to her.
Or was that just her own mind?

It didn't matter.
She could only pick up one word.

Sleep.

She obeyed gratefully.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
By the time Mellina awakened, arrangements for her funeral were being made.

She was on a small cot, close to a window. It was daylight.

Her body ached as if she had gone to war.

The sheet that covered her clung to her body with sweat and she struggled to raise her arms to stretch.

She felt as if she were made of wood, joints immovable and creaking from lack of use.

She sat up slowly and froze. Her hands traveled down her body, over her breast, her ribs, and down to her stomach.

It was gone.
Where had it gone?

Her pulse raced as she tried to stand, crying out at the shot of pain that bolted through her leg.

the sound of clattering glass and shuffling feet answered her cry as Pycelle rushed to find Mellina leaning against his workbench, disoriented and panicked.

"My Lady" He cried, "Please sit back down, please."

"Where is he?" Mellina stared at him with wild eyes, her hair falling loose from a braid someone else had done. "Where is he?"

"Your husband is on his way, My Lady. Please!" Pycelle took her wrist and motioned back to the cot, "Please sit. You will tear your stitching."

"Not my husband, my son! Where is my son?"

Pycelle blanched but succeeded in getting her to sit back down by the time others began to enter the Grandmaester's quarters.

Sandor came first, followed quickly by Queen Cersei, and Lady Sansa.

Mellina looked at them all with wide, confused eyes.

"Sandor." She breathed, reaching for her husband for reassurance. "Where is he? Where is our son?"

Sandor didn't answer at first. He wanted to run to her, to embrace her tightly.
But he couldn't, not in front of them.

"My Lady." Pycelle began again, "Please listen to me."

He pulled Mellina's full attention as he moved to sit next to her, taking her hand in his.

"My Lady, you had a terrible fit. Do you remember that?"

"No?" Mellina shook her head, "I don't remember anything, I- I think Her Grace summoned me, and after that, I don't-"

"It was during your visit with the queen that you took ill. You fell into a terrible state, and while it was quite the fight, we were able to bring you back. But..."

He looked to Sandor, suddenly at a loss for words.

"My Lord, I think it best you go from here."

Sandor swallowed hard but took Pycelle's place next to his wife.

Mellina's eyes were so pleading and desperate, he couldn't look at them.

"After a few hours, they told me they would only be able to save one of you, and I had to choose between you and our son...Mellina I'm so sorry."

Mellina's soul froze and dropped to the deepest pit of her stomach.

"That's a lie." She shook her head, "That's a lie, you're lying, it didn't-they never- No! No, No, No!"

He held her. She screamed her rage to the heavens and beat her fists on his arms, but he held her.

"How did it happen?" she demanded, "I don't understand! I don't!"

"There is no way to tell, I am afraid." Pycelle remained calm, as was his duty in these particularly hard situations. "Sometimes these things happen."

"I want to see him!" Mellina wailed, "I don't believe you! I want to see him!"

"No, my love." Sandor gripped her hand, "He's been buried."

"So soon?" Mellina blinked.

"My dear," Cersei said delicately. "You've been asleep for almost 2 weeks; we feared you would never wake up."

It was as if the world had come crashing down around her.
There was no future, no past, there was only this moment.
Only this debilitating pain that knew no end.

"I think it would be best if Lady Clegane take some time to process." Pycelle insisted.

"Yes, of course." Cersei took Sansa's arm. The teen had begun to silently weep for her friend. "Come, little dove. Clegane, take a few days. I will explain it to the King."

Sandor nodded and Mellina melted into him silently.

"I need to see it" she begged, "please, I need to see his grave."
-------------------------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to be a high honor to be buried in the crypts of King's Landing.

And honor reserved for kings and their families.

The tiny grave was set aside, away from the hulking stone monuments to great men.

"There's no name." Mellina observed, leaning on her husband, "I- I suppose we never actually discussed one."

Sandor was silent, eyes trained on the small stone monument to a life that had not lasted more than a day.

At first, he hoped against hope that the child would live.
He was so small. So small Sandor was at a loss what to do with him when they placed his son in his arms.

His face was red and squished, but he never cried. Not once.
After the first few hours, when he hadn't died, The Hound thought maybe, just maybe they had beaten the odds.

He was his son after all.
He came from a line of strong men.
His mother was the strongest woman Sandor had ever met.

Sandor never prayed but that night he had.
He prayed to the Mother to have mercy on his wife and child, the Smith to aid the Maesters in their work, and the Father for the strength to care for his son if Mellina didn't make it.

His son passed silently the day after he was down. It was peaceful, and he hoped it had been without pain.
The Silent Sisters took his tiny body away to prepare it for burial, and Sandor never saw him again.

He hadn't realized he was crying under Mellina pulled him tightly to her, reaching up to touch his face.

"Oh, my love." she breathed, "I should have been there with you."

"He was so small." Sandor's voice caught, "I hoped maybe he would- but he went quietly. He didn't suffer."

They stood there in the darkness of the crypt, the torchlight licking at their skin and sending their shadows dancing across the stone walls.
They both cried bitter tears for their child, saying a million goodbyes to the stone memorial but neither was willing to leave.

"Lady Clegane."
A light voice cut through the darkness and Mellina pulled from her husband's embrace, squinting in the darkness.

"Varys?"

"We haven't the time for your nonsense, Spider." Sandor growled, "Have some decency."

"Decency, my friend, is what brings me here." Varys come dressed in black, out of respect for his friend's mourning. "I brought someone I believe you are both familiar with. Come, son."

Lancel stepped out of the shadows, his head bent low as he approached Mellina.

"Lancel?" Mellina blinked in confusion, "What is this."

"Tell them what you told me." Varys insisted.

"Ser, My Lady" Lancel began, "I know you have no memory of what happened, but I beg of both of you to believe me when I say my words are the truth."

"Go on" Sandor was interested now. The Lannister boy had made it a point to stay out of The Hound's line of sight since that night in the King's Wood. He had a lot of balls to present himself mere weeks after his son's death.

"Your son's death was no accident." Lancel insisted, "I know how it sounds, but please listen. The Queen knew that once you had given birth, you would leave for the Westerlands. She was desperate to make you stay, and one day she returned from Pycelle's with a potion. I asked her what it was for and she said I wasn't...." he paused there swallowing his embarrassment for the sake of the truth. "She said she didn't want to risk getting pregnant by me, so she was taking it to make sure it didn't happen. But I never saw her take them. "

Mellina's eyes widened in horror, "The night I went to see her. I remember the wine. It tasted different; I couldn't put my finger on it."
Her face twisted, "No. No, Her Grace...she wouldn't do something like that. She knew what this baby meant to me."

"I'm so sorry." Lancel looked at them distraught, "If I had known, I would have come straight away. I swear that on my life."

"Boy, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you are certain what you just said is the truth." Sandor moved in front of Mellina and met the young knight face to face.

"I'd swear it before The Seven themselves."

"Swear it to me."

"I swear."

Lancel made his face serious as the grave as Sandor studied him before nodding.

"We must go." Varys said, "Before we are found out. You two go up the way you came, Lancel you follow me. My Dear-"
Vary's caught Mellina's hand and she found his eyes uncommonly sincere.

"I know I didn't always look out for your best interests, but I hardly have the words to express my sorrow. I mourn with you."

Mellina felt tears in her eyes again and she wiped them away quickly.
"Thank you, Varys, and you Lancel, for the truth."

"Use it wisely" he advised them before disappearing once again into the darkness. Lancel hung back for a moment until Sandor nodded to him.

"You know what must be done," Mellina said coldly, not looking at her husband and instead staring at the nameless grave before them. "We can't let her get away with this."

"She won't, my love." Sandor's grip on her shoulder was strong, "I promise you."

Mellina nodded slowly, approaching the grave and kneeling. She ran her fingers over the blank stone and sighed.

"I know what name should go here."
"What."

"Aello" She breathed, the name becoming a vow as it passed her lips.

"Aello" Sandor echoed. He'd heard that name before. He'd forgotten where. "Why that name?"

Mellina looked back at him, the torch light casting a gleam in her eyes that he had never seen before. They turned her dark eyes bright and almost golden red, flashing at him with intensity.

"It means Storm."

Chapter Text

Mellina took to mourning confinement like a bear takes to its hibernation den. 
Racked with exhaustion and grief, she spent most days in bed.
Well-wishers were sent away, regardless of rank. 

Sandor was the only soul to pass beyond the threshold and with Stannis' ships in sight he knew they must discard their grief in favor of action if they were to survive. 

It would be harder for her, he knew. 
Sandor had held their child while he died and saw him with his own eyes from the very start of his life to the very end. 

Part of Mellina still hadn't fully accepted he was gone. Though she had gone to the crypt and even watched as the craftsmen carved their chosen name into the stone, Mellina's mind could not seem to grasp the fact that her child had been born, lived, and died all while she was asleep. 

She never even saw his face. 

When her milk came, Pyelle had been kind enough to instruct her how to dry it up quickly. For the first 2 weeks, it flowed and Mellina wept bitterly until eventually, it stopped coming at all. Somehow, that hurt even more. 

"Mellina?"
She didn't answer, having trapped herself under a mountain of blankets despite the summer heat. 

"Mellina."

"What is it?" she breathed. 

"You need to stretch your foot. If you don't you won't heal properly."
She didn't respond. 

Slowly, she pushed herself up from under the weight of the blankets. Her body had mostly recovered, even her ankle was hurting much less as long as she didn't let it stiffen. 

"Have you been out today?"

"No." She said plainly. "Did the king ask why you were gone?"

"No." Sandor shook his head. He eyed her as she rose from the bed. She had taken to lounging either naked or in her robe most days.
Pycelle had warned him that it often took ladies quite a while to recover and that it was in both their best interests to be patient.  

Mellina sucked in a sharp breath as she put her weight on the injured ankle, knowing the pain would subside as soon as the limb became reacquainted with movement. 

"I missed you today," she confessed. 

Sandor didn't respond but sat in his chair as she hobbled towards him. 

"When will we leave?"

"Soon." He assured her, pulling her into his lap. "There are too many eyes watching at the moment, but we will."

"They say you can see the ships from the highest watch tower now." She breathed. "Less than a day away."

Sandor nodded silently. 
He had no fear of war. 
He'd had enough people try their best to kill him to know he could hold his own. 

But it wasn't the battle he was worried about, it was what would happen if the Keep were breached. 
The Queen would gather the women and children into Maegor's holdfast in the innermost part of the Keep, and they should be safe until the Queen formally surrendered the city. 
But a formal surrender didn't always mean safety. 

"I'm going to say something." He began. "Don't get mad."
She didn't respond but listened. 

"When the Queen calls for you to enter the holdfast with the other women, and she will call for you, I want you to go."

Mellina stiffened. 
"No"

"Mellina."

"You would have me squirrel myself away under the protection of the woman who murdered our son? And tried to murder me?" 

"I would have you safe." Sandor snapped, gripping her arms tightly. he loosened his grip when she gasped and glared at him. "You're still recovering. 5 weeks out of childbed with a gimpy ankle, if things go south you won't be able to run."

"I can fight."

Sandor smiled at this and she shoved him a little with a pout.  

"Aye, I know you can fight." He scoffed, "We've been here a year and you've got, what, 4 bodies under your belt? You're almost as deadly as me these days."

Mellina snickered at that but grew serious. 
"I can't do it. I can't see her. If I do, I don't know what I'll do." 

"She's the queen. We will have to see her eventually." Sandor deadpanned before adding, "Her son has decided to enter the fighting when the fleet comes."

"Really?" Mellina blinked before nodding. "Good."

"Good?"

"Good," she repeated. "If we win, his presence will boost morale. If we lose well-. Does that mean you'll be out there?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "But I'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"Don't go." She begged, shaking her head. "If you love me, you will stay here. Volunteer to protect the Holdfast instead."

"I'm no coward, Mellina. I won't hang back while they beat down the gates."

"Listen to me." Mellina gripped his shirt firmly, shaking him a little. Her face was all hard lines and shadows, her eyes still rimmed with red and purple, and her curls frizzed and frayed from neglect. 
"Listen to me. You will not leave me here alone. I will not allow it. Do not ask me to just let you walk out of here knowing you might not come back because I can not do that, not now." 

Her grip softened as her lip began to quiver again and she buried her face in his neck. "Please. Please. I am begging you." 

Sandor wrapped his arms around his wife tightly. 
It wasn't fair to her, he knew that. 

But war was never fair.

At the end of the day, he was a fighter. 
He relished in the spilling of blood, and the sounds of his enemies dying. It sometimes seemed that was what he was made for. 

But Mellina's grip on him was desperate, and he knew that to leave her alone now was to condemn her to the madness that lingered beyond grief. 

"I can't back out now." He sighed, "But I will not be leaving you alone."

"You can't promise that."

"I can" he assured her, pulling her face from his neck so he could look at her. "Don't go when the Queen calls you, instead I want you to wait here. When it's all over and we've won, I will come back for you. But if things start to go bad, I will send someone for you, you might not know them, but when they say I sent them you need to follow them. Dress in all black, take only what we will need."

"We're leaving?" Mellina's heart swelled with hope for the first time in a long time. 

"I promised you we would leave." He reminded her. 

Mellina kissed her husband deeply, holding his face in her hands and only pulling away when she was breathless. 

"I love you." She insisted, pressing her brow to his. "Don't die out there."

"I promise." He grinned, kissing her back as his hands when from her waist to her hip and finally to cup her ass firmly. "And when I came back, we're celebrating one way or another." 

She laughed and pushed oh his hand, "I'm still sore."

"I'll be gentle." 

----------------------

It was at the toll of the bells that Cersei sent for Mellina to join the other ladies in the holdfast. 

A young handmaiden, younger than Mellina had been when she took the position, came to collect her with frightened eyes and shaking hands. Mellina sat on the bed calmly, brushing the tangles out of her curls with a wide tooth comb of carved ivory. 

"Tell her grace I am grateful for the invitation, but I am quite comfortable where I am."

A second message came shortly after while Mellina was dressing. He was one of the hired guards in dented armor the palace hired to supplement the men they had. He couldn't have been more than 20.

"You are commanded to report to the holdfast by Her Majesty the Queen Regent."

"Did she tell you to kill me if I didn't come?" Mellina inquired, tightening the strings of her bodice. 

The guard blinked at this. stunned. 

"Beg pardon?"

"The Queen" she clarified, slipping on a pair of sturdy leather shoes over her stockings. "Did she tell you to kill me if I did not come with you?"

"No, my Lady." 

Mellina smiled at him and nodded. "Wait there."

She poured him a glass of red from the stoneware pitcher on the table before handing him the glass. He hesitated to take it but at her nudging finally accepted. 

"Tell her Grace I thank her for the invitation, but I intend to wait out the siege here."

"I..."

"Young man." Mellina cut in. "Unless you intend to carry me to the holdfast at knifepoint, I will not be going with you. Do you intend to do that?"

"No, my Lady." The guard shook his head before returning the now empty wine chalice, "Thank you."

It was maybe an hour before Mellina heard a thunderous knock at her door. 

As she peered through the keyhole she saw the person she least wanted to meet that night. 

"Your Grace."

Cersei was backed by guards but entered without them, storming past Mellina who looked her up and down. 

"Lovely night for a siege."

"What is the matter with you?" Cersei fumed. "You dare refuse my orders now?"

Mellina could not contain a sardonic smile, "I figured I would be the last person you wanted to see, all things considered."

"Don't be stupid," Cersei scoffed and snatched Mellina's hand, "come on, this is no time for games."

Mellina would not budge and instead jerked the queen back, sending the guards on full alert with drawn swords as Cersei stared at her lover in disbelief. 

"What has gotten into you?!" Cersei half laughed in shock, "Have you gone mad?"

"I know what you did, Cersei." Mellina used the Queen's given name for the first time and the sharp edge to it drove a shiver up her back. 

Cersei's eyes searched her face. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie." Mellina sniffed dispassionately, "Or do. You've lied so much, it may be a struggle to stop now. But lies or no, we both know what you did. I didn't remember at first, maybe I didn't want to believe it. The idea that you could do something that cruel, that heartless when I loved you so much...It took some time to accept."

Cersei tried to yank her hand from Mellina's grip but Mellina held firm, squeezing so hard she could feel the bones in the queen's hand grind against each other.

"But I remember everything now...so no, my queen, I will not be going with you. Not now, not ever again." Mellina pulled Cersei forward, grasping her face in clawed hands, and the guards rushed forward until Mellina pressed her lips to her lover's. 

Cersei froze in anticipation, the grip on her face a looming threat. The lips on hers were a tight line, none of the familiar softness and passion she had grown accustomed to. 

This kiss bore the threat of fangs and claws that wanted to tear at her face and throat. 

When Mellina pulled away, she shoved Cersei towards the door. 

"Go"

The Queen lingered, too stunned to speak until the guards saw their chance to seize the villainess before them. 

"No!" Cersei ordered as large hands gripped Mellina's soft frame. "Leave her. Let her die out here if that is what she wishes."

Mellina smirked as she was released, her dark eyes seemed like twin abysses at bore into the Queen's emerald ones. 

"Goodbye" she nodded, the word carrying a finality to it that gave the queen pause as she turned to leave, "Gods willing, we will meet again."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The battle had devolved quickly. Sandor knew it would be a shit show when the Imp set the bloody water on fire.

Men were strewn about the vanguard, some half dead and still moaning in agony. 

With half his men dead and the other half fighting for their lives, Sandor didn't wait for permission to sound the retreat. He had no intention of dying for a lost cause. 

When confronted, Sandor was struck with a sudden flash of hate. The imp and that idiot boy king, kin to the murderess that nearly took everything from him. 

He should be putting their heads on spikes instead of slaying men in their name. 

He was tempted, for that half a second as he stared at Joffrey's stupid fucking face he imagined it. 

But that would make things too complicated. 

"Fuck the king's guard" he finally growled, "fuck the King. And fuck his cunt mother." 

No one stopped him when he left, not even the gold cloaks. Part of him wished they'd tried so he could tear their head off, but they let him retreat toward the keep. 

As he left he passed Lancel on his way back to the fray. 

"Lannister." He growled, snatching the knight by his chest plate to stop him, "I need to call in a favor."

Lancel paused but nodded.

"My wife is in our quarters. Go to her, and take her to the dungeons, below the black cells where they keep the dragon bones. Follow that tunnel and you'll reach the shore outside the city. "

"You're running?!"

"Aye" Sandor nodded, "and if you had any brains, so would you. Take it from me, boy, I know a lost cause when I see it." 

Lancel considered this and shook his head, "I'll bring her, but I won't run. It's not honorable."

"I'll make sure they mention your honor on your tombstone." Sandor assured him, "Now go." 

When the knock came, Mellina froze. She was careful to avoid any creaking boards as she peered through the crack in the door. 

"Lancel." She breathed, opening the door fully. "Gods, you look awful."

He did too. 

Splattered with blood and pale, Lancel's hand grasped at his side but he tried to look unbothered. 

"Your husband sent me, we have to go."

"You've been shot " Mellina breathed, "poor thing, let me see."

"There's no time."

"Yes there is, come here"

She stripped him of his breastplate and wince at the wound. The arrow had been torn out, but the wound never cauterized. 

"Let me bind it, I'll make it quick." She snatched one of the dresses Cersei commissioned for her and tore at the silk until it was ribbons. 

"Keep the pressure." She moved his hand to press a thick square of lace and satin to the hole as she began to wrap strips of fabric would his torso tightly. 

Lancel whimpered at the pain and bit his lip until Mellina tied the final strip tightly. The blood would seep through eventually, but it would hold for now.

"Let's go." 

________________________________

The keep was shockingly empty. Their footsteps echoed off high walls and domed ceilings as they run through the halls and down into the dungeons. 

The Red Keep Dungeons were layered, each worse than the last, but at the very bottom there was a tunnel few knew about.

"I've never been this way" Mellina confessed, shocked to find a part of the castle unfamiliar to her. 

"Nor I." Lancel carried a torch to guide them through the darkness with his other hand on his dagger. 

For the first time, Mellina saw the man that Lancel desperately wanted people to see. 

A true and honorable knight.

"Don't go back out there, Lancel." Mellina urged him. "Come with us. You're too good for this city."

"I can't." Lancel shook his head. "I vowed to defend the kingdom,"

Mellina sighed but froze. "Put out the torch."

He obeyed and they were engulfed in pitch darkness.

"I see it" she pointed a hidden finger at the spot of blue and green light ahead of them, "keep moving."

The tunnel let out to a rocky cove hidden in the shadow of the keep. Sandor had secured Stranger from the stables and was waiting for them on the edge of the water. 

"We can't stay long, we've wasted enough time."

Mellina turned to her escort one last time, brown eyes pleading with his blue ones. 

"Come with us." 

Lancel smiled at her, a look Mellina just now realized she had never seen on him before playing on his lips. 

"Only one horse" he excused lamely. 

"Lancel-"

"Thank you." He cut in, "for being kind to me. You were the only person who ever was." 

He looked past Mellina to Sandor, who waited impatiently, before nodding respectfully. 

"So long, my lady" Lancel kisses her knuckles softly, showing his high-born manners as if she were a true lady and not a pretender. "I do hope we meet under happier circumstances." 

Mellina mounted Stranger behind Sandor and watched the young knight disappear into the rocks. 

The sounds of warfare could be heard just over the hill as Sandor took off down the shoreline. 

Mellina looked over her shoulder as they fled, watching the keep grow smaller and smaller against the blue-black midnight sky.

Chapter Text

They did not stop riding for a day and a half.
Mellina leaned against her husband, wavering in and out of sleep as they made their way up Blackwater Rush.

It was easiest to follow the river from the shore, and from there determine their next best course of action.
Their first instinct was to head west towards Clegane Keep. But the Westerlands belonged to the Lannisters, and since neither Mellina nor Sandor had left Lannister employ on particularly good terms, it was best to steer clear for now.

"Besides." Sandor grumbled, "It'd be the first place they looked."

"Cersei said the Lannisters and Starks are spilling blood all over the Riverlands" Mellina informed him.

"The Crownlands, then." Sandor breathed, "We'll want to steer clear of Harrenhall. Tywin Lannister stationed Gregor there. The bastard would turn us in for the fun of it."

"We've no bounty," Mellina pointed out, "We're not criminals, technically. Just...not very well regarded."

"Men have hanged for less."

Mellina thought for a moment, pressing the side of her face into his back as she watched trees go by in the darkness. The stars were out that night and the moon gave them enough light to ride by.

While autumn was creeping in, it was still warm enough in the south for Mellina to be comfortable in a plain wool frock.
She's brought her Handmaiden dresses. They were common and dull and made sure she would blend in.

As much as a nearly 7ft tall knight in black armor and his plump lady love could blend in, that is.

"We could try for Driftmark." She suggested, "Catch a ship from Duskendale."

Sandor grunted in disagreement, "Not a lot of places to hide on an island, and too close to King's Landing."

Mellina nodded. 

After two days they finally stopped to make camp in a clearing away from the road. 

Mellina gathered firewood while her husband secured the area. When it was clear there was no one about to bother them, they could finally settle, though Sandor still intended to sleep in his armor. 

Bent over to blow onto the kindling, Mellina felt a large hand run over her spine and down, squeezing a handful of her ass through the skirt. 

"Hello" she laughed, "can I help you ser?"

"Don't be coy" Sandor scoffed, hand creeping up her skirt and over her thigh. "Come away from that fire before you burn yourself."

It'd been weeks since Mellina had even thought of sex, but Sandor's patience was dwindling with each stroke of his hand. His other hand found the back of her neck and pulled her to him as his fingers pushed past her small clothes and began stroking. 

Mellina pushed herself against his hand and arched her back eagerly. Her hands made for his armor, removing the dull metal so she could embrace him properly. 

Mouths met flesh and hands fumbled with clothes in a flurry of need until Mellina's mind began to wander. 

She hadn't  fucked anyone since Cersei. 

She could remember clearly, how gentle the queen had been with her pregnancy. Sandor was too worried about hurting her to even try and Mellina had been desperate with need. 

Sandor pressing into her came as a shock, Mellina didn't even remember him crawling on top of her. 

Focus.

Where was she now? Mellina wondered

Does she care I'm gone?

Was she angry?

Hurt?

Mellina hoped so. 

Sandor's hands were gripping her hips hard and Mellina could feel the bolts of pleasure she was accustomed to but found herself unable to find the path she needed. 

She'd never needed to try before. 

Frowning, she closed her eyes and tried to find the rhythm with her hips. 

Cersei probably didn't even care she was gone. 

Why would she, she never loved Mellina. 

You don't do that to someone you even like let alone love. 

Frustration filled Mellina as she huffed impatiently. 

Why was she thinking of this, why now? 

How pathetic was she that she couldn't fuck her husband without thinking of the queen?

"Hey"

Sandor had stopped, hovering over her. Mellina blinked, having almost forgotten he was even there. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"Liar."

Mellina sighed in frustration, shoving him off gently so she could sit. 

"I can't stop thinking. But it's fine, let's keep going so you can-"

"I did" Sandor pointed out, "you just....laid there."

Mellina blinked in confusion before becoming acutely aware of the warm slickness between her legs. 

"I'm sorry." She breathed, angry with herself, "I just.....I'm going to go fill the canteens. There's a stream just a little past the trees."

Sandor watched as she rose and caught her hand before she could flee. 

"I'm fine" she insisted, pulling away gently, "I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back."

They could hear the stream from the clearing, and Mellina followed the sound. In the darkness, her steps were illuminated by the moonlight and she stopped on the marshy edge of the water. 

Her feet sunk into the mud slightly as she moved to fill the canteens. 

Why couldn't she just get her mind together?

She was free. 

Cersei wouldn't waste manpower trying to find her. 

Mellina felt her face heat up and tears began to sting her eyes.

Stop it. She scolded herself. Don't you dare cry. 

Cry for your child.

Cry for your husband.

Cry for Lancel.

Cry for Sansa. 

Do NOT cry for that hateful bitch. 

A branch cracked behind her and Mellina sighed, "I said I'd be right back"

As she turn, she froze. 

The man peered at her from behind a dead tree, the moon making his eyes almost glow. 

Mellina stepped backward, ankle-deep in the water. It was freezing and sent a shiver up her body as the man approached. 

He was ugly, but not old. His body was lean and his clothes were ragged from wear. 

"Leave me alone" Mellina tried to sound commanding. "I'll scream."

"Scream and I'll cut your throat" The man flashed a blade, long and thin. "This doesn't have to get ugly."

"Fuck you" Mellina spat, moving to dart upstream but the man tackled her into the water. 

Sharp rocks stung her back as Mellina began kicking at him, battering him with feet and fists. 

She didn't scream, too focused on keeping her attacker at bay as she pushed him off and rolled on top of him. 

The dagger flashed like lightning, and Mellina caught his wrist before he buried the blade between her breast. 

Their struggle was backed by the splashing of the water around them. Mellina pried at his fingers, trying to wrestle the blade away. 

"Help!" She finally screamed, "Help!"

Slick with sweat and water, Mellina was able to drag the dagger from her attacker and pressed her weight fully on his chest. 

Sandor tore past thorn bushes and fallen trees until he hit the edge of the stream. 

His heart was pounding in his ears as his eyes found red in the water. 

"Mellina!"

She turned to him and his breath caught in his throat. Her bodice and skirt were soaked with blood and water, she was the vision of a vengeful spirit as she stumbled out of the stream towards him. 

Just passed her he could see the form of a man splayed out on the rocky river bed. 

"Where-"

 "It's not mine" she confessed, eyes dazed for a moment as she stared at the dagger in her hand. Its blade gleamed red. 

"Fuck, I never should have-!"

His next words died in his throat as Mellina pulled him to her level and captured his lips with her. 

The kiss was greedy and famished as she pushed him back from the water's edge and against the trunk of a tree. 

"I need you" she growled, tossing the dagger aside and letting her hands travel across his body desperately, "now."

When he paused Mellina pressed her body against his, one hand fumbling with his trouser strings until he finally kissed back firmly. 

"Come here." He snatched her by the waist and pressed her against the tree. 

Bark bit into Mellina's back as her husband lifted her and pinned her between his body and the forest. Her heart was pounding, her head spinning. 

Panting, she tore at the neck of his shirt and ravaged his throat and shoulder with bites and kisses in equal measure until she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance. 

"Fuck" she growled as he pushed into her, stopping half away only to pull out and thrust deeper each time "More."

From this position, Sandor wasted no time bouncing Mellina on his cock, letting the full length fill her cunt over and over as the flesh of her back and shoulders scrapped against the unforgiving bark of the tree. 

It was as if her entire being was vibrating, fucking her hips against his trying to pull him tighter against her. A flurry of swears and moans fell from her lips as she catcher her high. 

"Don't stop" she begged as she pulled her chest flush to his and felt his length hit the deepest part of her. "Oh fuck, right there."

Cries filled the forest as Mellina trembled around him, desperately bucking her hips with abandon. 

"More" she begged him once her feet were back in the ground. "Please, please, I need you."

Dragging her back to the clearing, Sandor tore at her blood-soaked dress until it was in tatters on the ground and he had his wife pinned on hands and knees by the fire. 

Mellina was past words as she reveled in the feeling of her husband's hips nearly knocking her into the dirt with every thrust. 

"Gods" Sandor's hand reached between her legs to rub at her clit. "So that's what you need then. Twisted little thing."

Mellina's wails grew higher and more desperate as his fingers pressed rough circles on her clit. 

Back arching deeper and letting her thighs spread lower, Mellina's face hit the grass as she found her focus. 

So close, oh so close

She gripped the ground, tearing at blades of grass until her mouth hung open with a scream of pleasure. 

Sandor pinned her throat to the ground as her cunt spasmed around him, begging him to bury his cock as deep as he could and fuck her through her climax before spilling his seed with a final choked roar. 

They froze like that, panting heavily as the final waves of their shared climax ebbed away. 

Sandor slipped into the grass, curling himself around his wife who was still twitching around him. 

The fire cracked and snapped soothingly, lulling them both into submissive sleep as Sandor covered his wife in a blanket and tucked a dagger into his waistband, should there be any more unwelcome visitors. 

Chapter Text

Lannister Reign over the continent seemed to be solidifying with every passing day
One Baratheon brother dead, the other cast back into the sea.
Jaime was off fighting for control of the Riverlands against the Stark pup.
Joffrey on the throne with his grandfather as Hand to the King, and Cersei looming over all shoulders, waiting for something to do.

She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off the thoughts barreling through her brain.

There were the usual concerns, of course.
Her dreadful little brother.
The Stark Girl, who was more use to them alive but sulked around the keep like a kicked dog.

Speaking of dogs.

She shook her head.

Don't think on that, there's no point to it.

And yet she couldn't stop herself.
She pictured Mellina that night, standing in the darkness of her quarters with knowing eyes that looked almost eager for the Queen to get closer.
Cersei couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had forced Mellina into the Holdfast with the other ladies.

She'd still be here, of course.

But that look she gave Cersei.
A look to chill the blood of even the most hardened of warriors.
It was the look of a predator just waiting for its prey to move into the perfect position.

But that was nonsense, Cersei knew that.

Mellina was devoted to her, even in anger.
Each time Cersei sent her away, she had always come back.
She never would have left her Queen's side if she hadn't been forced to.

This was the delusion Cersei labored under for weeks, even now despite the idea being brushed off by everyone else.

She brought her distress to her father and Joffrey, and both looked at her like she had grown a second head.

"Forgive me." Tywin squinted slowly as if he didn't understand. "But it is my understanding that upon marriage, a wife becomes as one with her husband both spiritually and legally. Lady Mellina is Clegane's wife, therefore there can be no issue of kidnapping."

"All the same" Cersei fumed, outraged that they would not see sense. "He should be found and hanged as a deserter. If we find him, we find Lady Clegane."

"We are at war" Joffrey scoffed, "We do not have the spare men to send after a stray dog and his bitch."

Cersei wanted to pull his ear for that.
She had been unprepared for the harsh change in her dynamic with her son.
He no longer listened to her and did not seek her advice or her counsel.

When he discovered the truth of Robert's many bastards, he sent the city watch to slaughter them all, grown and babes alike.

When Cersei heard of this, she was stunned.
Yes, it solved the issue of the truth Jon Arryn discovered, but it also gave those who resented Lannister presence a rallying cry against Cersei and her family

"The Queen Slaughters Babies" Tyrion had said with a dark smirk.

Tywin insisted Cersei at least try to keep some kind of control over her son, but the boy king resisted with every attempt.

That made it sting all the more when Tywin himself succeeded where Cersei had failed with her child.

Tywin had him settled, more willing to thin before acting, and betrothed to Margery Tyrell, whom Cercei resented and watched carefully.

If Mellina were here, Cersei thought, she would know what to say to cheer her.
She would call Margery a snub-nosed little girl and laugh with Cersei at the very idea of such a welp replacing her.

"She could never hold a candle to you, Your Grace" she would say, cheeks rosy and eyes smiling. "Rose or not."

Why had she left?
Cersei knew why, she wasn't stupid.

She did regret what had happened.
Mellina had wanted that baby so badly.
I should have just had that dog put down, Cersei thought to herself, that would have been enough.

Yes, it would have hurt Mellina, but she would have gotten over it. She would have had her baby to look after, and Cersei by her side.

Cersei allowed herself to linger on this alternative path, as it was so much more pleasant than her current reality.

Cersei would have moved Mellina closer to the royal quarters, perhaps even into her rooms.
The babe would be attended to by a nanny and wetnurse, as all highborn children were.

I could have given them more, Cersei frowned.

A head start for the boy, he would have been set to be someone's squire. Perhaps Jaime's.
From there he could take on the role his father had taken, sworn sword to the King's children.
Or, on the off chance the boy had been small, unfit for the battlefield, he could have even been sent to Oldtown to be educated.

Would she have loved him? Cersei wondered.
Not as she loved her own children, surely. But, he would have been the apple of his mother's eye.
I would have cared for him, Cersei decided firmly, not loved, but cared for.

And how well Mellina would have thrived as a mother. She was so good with little Tommen and Myrcella, it would have come naturally to her.
After The Hound died, want would be done with her.

She could remain forever a widow, that would be the preferred route. Mellina could not be trusted not to love, and in Cersei's view, it was only natural for everyone to love Mellina eventually.
If the silly fool had been smart enough not to fall for her first husband, none of this would have happened.

If she did remarry though, it would have to be a weak man.
One who did not ask questions and did not interfere.

She had thought the Hound good at not interfering.
Perhaps Cersei had been blind to it, but he had never seemed resentful of Mellina's affections for her Queen.
But why else would he have stolen Mellina from the Keep in the Night like a common thief?

She must be so worried, Cersei realized.

Did Mellina know they had won? That they were still alive?

The poor dear was snatched up and swept away like a maiden in a story, she must be so confused and frightened.

Enough of this. Cersei slapped her palm to the smooth table top she sat at, nursing a goblet of wine. If they would not do anything, she would.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You asked to see me, your grace?"

"Yes, come in." Cersei eyed the sell sword up and down.
To consider this man a knight would be an affront to the very notion of chivalry, regardless of the "Ser" they put before his name.

"I find myself in need of some help." She began. "I have a problem, and the crown had made it clear they will not intervene, so I am seeking outside assistance."

Bronn nodded understandingly. "May I ask as to the nature of the problem?"

"My favorite, The Lady Clegane, do you know her?"

"Know of her, the uh..." He tried to find a word he could get away with in the present company, "the ample one the Hound married. I saw her."

"She was kidnapped by her husband from the keep the night Stannis attacked the city. I want her brought back, and I want that barbarian's throat slit."

Bronn considered this. "That can be arranged. It'll take some asking around though, not many men would be willing to track down a man that big and that good with a sword. And they'll be asking for a pretty penny to do it."

"Money is of no object, I assure you," Cersei smirked. "I want her brought back alive and unharmed."

"I'll find the man for the job, your grace." Bronn smiled coyly, "Of course, there is a matter of a finder's fee..."

"Find me a man who can do the job. If he comes back alive with Lady Clegane unharmed, you will be rewarded handsomely." Cersei assured him.

Bronn's grin widened at this, "I will start straight away, Your Grace."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Lancel stared at the ceiling over his bed blankly.

His wound still burned with infection, and his brow was damp with feverish sweat.

The Maester said he would have died if not for the quick dressing of his wound.
He had Lady Clegane to thank for that, he thought fondly.

No. He corrected himself, remembering what she had first told him when they met in the darkness of the wine cellars.

Mellina.

He made good his vow to Clegane and told his father to find him a wife that could get him out of King's Landing, and Kevin Lannister acted swiftly, glad to see that his son was finally taking adult responsibility seriously.

But while the Frey girl Kevin had betrothed him to was kind and plain-faced with noble intentions, Lancel's mind could not help but stray.

He hated himself for it.
It was an affront to the gods, disrespectful to the man who had covered his crimes, and dishonored the very lady his affections yearned for.

His soul was still wracked with guilt, how he had been the one to summon her to Cersei's chambers that night.
He had no way of knowing what would happen, he told himself, no way at all.

And even after what happened, when he confessed before Mellina and her husband the Queen's crime and his unintentional part in it, though he might die, and if he did it would be well deserved.

But instead, she bore him no ill will, neither of them did.
She had even taken valuable time to tend to his wounds when he was injured.
"Come with us" she had urged him, and he wanted to follow her so badly.

But his honor would not allow it, nor his pride.

And in the end, they won, despite everything.

When the battlefield cleared, Lancel found he could not judge Clegane for what he had done.
Win or Lose, nothing would have changed for them. They would still be trapped, their son would still be dead, and they would have to look into the face of their child's killer every day.

He could still picture them on the beach, war raging only a few hundred yards from them as Mellina held his hand in hers.

Even in plain wool, stripped of any court finery that might have disguised her for a snobbish highborn, she was still so beautiful.

Had Clegane not been there, had they been alone on that beach, would Lancel have dared to kiss her as he had so wanted to in that moment?

It was horrible to think, he knew that. She was a married woman, with a husband who not only loved but respected her.
And she was his senior by ten years or more, what could she want with someone like him? Little more than a boy in tin armor with a toy sword when compared to The Hound.

As he pondered in the darkness, the arm on Lancel's good side began to move over his hip to rest on his lower stomach. Absentmindedly his long fingers played at the edge of his waistband.

He wished she were here.
She had been so kind, so attentive when she nursed his wound as he sat on her bed.
Even in the midst of the pain and the noise of the battle still ringing in his ears, the touch of her hands on his body was startlingly gentle.

He imagined how soft her touch had been on his face, all those times she had cupped his cheek gently, in the cellars by candlelight, in the garden surrounded by flowers.
How those soft hands would feel against his bare chest, nursing him still with those sad eyes. How she'd press a cold cloth to his brow to soothe his fever.

"My poor Lion" he could hear her breathe, "Let me take care of you."

He gasped as her small hand gripped the length of his shaft and stroked him slowly but firmly.
He did not protest, only whimpering with need as she leaned over him to plant a kiss on his brow. Her buxom chest hovered just out of his reach until she drew him close and laid his head on her breast.

"Sweetling." She coaxed him gently, "You must rest, let me help you."

He nodded in agreement and very nearly cried out as she picked up the pace, lavishing tender attention on his sensitive tip each time her fingers pumped his cock.

"Please" he whined, face buried in the warm softness of her breasts as the sensation overwhelmed him. The beckoning smell of her hair, the musical tone of her sweet voice. "Please. I need you; I need you; I love you. Please, Mellina."

She laughed lightly as his gasping chant, watching his hips buck against her hand.

"I know, darling, I know. Just breath. You're doing so well, so close."

His release came quickly, and just as soon as she was there, she was gone.
Her warmth replaced by a cool pillow; her small soft hand replaced by his own nimble fingers.

Even as he traced the sensitive tip of his cock, drawing out more jerks and whines, Lancel felt a wave of shame wash over him.

But more powerful than shame was desire.
The desire to sleep, the desire to dream.
Perhaps she would visit him again tonight if he was lucky.

Chapter Text

Mellina could not help but admire the beauty of late summer in the forests of the Crownlands. 

Everything from the leaves on the trees to the plush mossy logs and rocks was a vibrant green. 

The soil was rich and smelt of fresh rain, surely as fertile for farming as any land in Westeros.

They still hadn't agreed on where exactly they were going. 

The North wouldn't receive them warmly, and even if it would they would have to cross the Riverlands or the Vale to get there. The Riverlands contained the bulk of the fighting and the Vale was mostly mountains. 

Mellina suggested once again they travel by ship, but they hadn't money for a ticket so that was out. 

For now, it seemed the Crownlands were the safest place for them. 

"Sandor, you've been walking for hours, let me get down so you can rest"

"I'm fine" he shook his head, "you're lighter than me anyway, it's easier for Stranger to carry you than me." 

Mellina sighed but didn't argue. 

Sandor would never admit to being chivalrous, but he truly was whether he liked it or not. 

A killer, yes. And proud of it.

But chivalrous. 

"We're running low on supplies, next town we stop at I'll see what I can find."

"I'll go with you"

"No." She refused him, "If we still want to keep a low profile, it's probably best if people don't see you. There aren't very many 7ft knights with facial scars around, and Varys has spies all over the continent."

"Even this far out?"

"Oh yes," Mellina scoffed. "From The Wall to Dorne, across the Narrow Sea, that spider has eyes in every Sept, market, and brothel." 

"So how did you get wrapped up in his business?"

"Gods" Mellina breathed with a bitter smile. "I must have been about 4. My older siblings were already trading information for food, and when I was old enough to start listening and remembering I joined up to earn my keep. I want very good but, I don't know, I think he just felt bad for me."

"That doesn't sound like him." Sandor scoffed, "Where are your siblings? Do you know?"

Mellina froze for a second, her stomach tightening painfully. "I...I don't know. I think 3 of them, my brothers, I think they are dead. But my sisters, I have no idea." 

Faces flash through her mind, dead eyes blanking staring at her, once so full of rage. Leaned up against brick walls with knife wounds in their torsos and faces. 

No.

She shook her head. 

She didn't know if that was them, not really. 

She hadn't seen them in 17 years, they could look completely different now. 

Then why did their faces haunt her memory so vividly? 

Mika.

Wyle.

Job.

Once upon they were her saviors, keeping her safe as older brothers ought to. 

Mika was the oldest, 25 when she last saw him. Dirty blond with stormy blue eyes, so different from her. As near a father as she had ever known. 

Wyle and Job, acted as twins though they were born of separate fathers, only a few months apart. They had been 18 when Varys sent her to the Keep. 

They had been so proud of her. 

No.

They would never do that. 

She could not accept it. 

The Gods would not be so cruel. 

The next town they came to want even a spot on a map, but it had a market and clean well. 

Mellina carefully budgeted out a ration of coins that should get them a sack of potatoes and some dried meat, things that would keep on the road. 

The faces were friendly, from the butcher who was rubbing salt on thin cuts of meat before sending her off with a thick parcel of venison, to the woman standing next to her in line nursing a babe on her chest. 

Mellina's gaze must have lingered too long on the baby's cherubic face because the mother smiled and shifted so she could get a better look at him. 

"He's just past his first name day," she said proudly, "strong as a bull he is."

"What a blessing." Mellina nodded, her heart jerking painfully in her chest. "A lovely day to you." 

Don't you do it, she told herself, taking a deep, steadying breath before moving on to a farmer's stall where he hawked his produce. 

"Freshest in the market, ma'am, not a speck of rot on my honor." 

"I'm sure" she nodded mildly, picking out potatoes, carrots, and turnips with care, ensuring no soft spots or brown holes from burrowing bugs. 

"Pardon" 

Mellina jumped at a hand on her arm. 

She turned and found a pair of small grey eyes staring at her. They were attached to a woman a sight older than her with grey-black hair turning white at the roots. She looked around variously but kept her body calm. 

"I'm sorry to bother you. But I thought you should know. 3 men have been following you around the market."

Mellina blinked, her blood going cold. "What?"

"Don't make it obvious, but there's one staring at us from the butcher's stall. The other two have been pushing around a barrel of hay but they stop when you stop."

Mellina felt fright creep into her bones as she let her eyes drift where the woman directed her with slight nods. 

She was right. 

Despite their plain cloaks, Mellina could make out leather armor and scabbards. 

"No."

"Where are you going? I'll walk you." The woman whispered. "Do you have anyone waiting for you?"

"My husband is just outside on the tree line with the horse." She muttered. "I can't let you walk with me, what if they follow and they try to hurt you?"

"I'll be fine" she shook her head. "I've nothing to steal and rapers haven't any interest in old women like me"

"All the same" 

Mellina looked at the vendor. He was a big man, body strong from farm work. 

"Sir" she breathed. "I don't mean to be a bother, but would you mind escorting a lady back to her husband?"

The man looked confused before Mellina carefully motioned to the men who were creeping closer to the stall. 

"Jon" the farmer wiped his hands and let his gaze linger on the mend letting them know they had been seen with a disapproving frown. "Watch the stall, I'll be back."

Taking up a knife he'd been using to carve off stems and potato eyes, the farmer took Mellina by the arm as she lead him back to the edge of the road. 

Sandor had been leaning against a tree but pushed off with a hand on his sword as he saw them approach. 

"We need to go." She breathed. "Now."

"You two in some kind of trouble?" the farmer looked over his shoulder and watched as the trio of strangers began to approach. 

"Seven bless you for your help" Mellina answered without truly answering.  "But we need to move quickly."

Sandor mounted Stranger before pulling his wife up behind him and spurring the horse into a gallop. 

"Lannister Men?"

"I didn't see any red or lions, but I wouldn't put it past them."

"I guess Joffrey had some free time" Sandor grumbled, kicking himself for cursing the king to his face instead of sneaking out quietly. "Can you see them?"

Mellina looked over her shoulder and cringed at the three black dots in the distance. 

"Yep"

"Fuck"

Sandor pulls the reigns sharply, sending Stranger off the road and forest. 

"What are we doing?"

"Getting off the road"

"The trees are too thick, we won't be out of sight before they catch up."

"I'm going to need you to just trust me here, yeah?"

Mellina didn't argue further as Stranger weaved between trunks and over logs with surprising grace for a beast his size. 

They made it over a stream and past a clearing before the road was firmly out of sight. Sandor pulled Stranger to a stop before dismounting. 

"Stay on the horse, be prepared to run. You still have that knife I gave you?"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Men motivated by Lannister gold don't tend to give up the chase easily. The safest thing is to end it here."

 "This is madness"

Sandor's sword unsheathed at the sound of hooves making through the woods. Mellina's hand went to the knife at her waist as Stranger stamped his hoof uneasily. 

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be" a voice called as three large shapes peered through the brush. "Just give up the woman, and we'll make this quick."

"We're here to rescue you, m'lady" the smallest man, a wiry weasley looking creature nodded at her. 

"You gentlemen seem confused." Mellina gripped the reigns tightly. "I do not require rescuing"

"The queen says differently."

"The queen is confused then."

"Why don't you come with us and clear up the confusion then." The third man, a broad and gallant-looking fellow in fine armor, requested calmly. "Her Grace is eager to see you safe."

"I am safe with my husband, but many thanks all the same."

"Fuck this." The first man, balding and dressed in black leather spat, "Ser Rowan, you collect the lady, Sedge and I have the dog handled."

"You take one step towards her, and I'll crush that fancy armor of yours like paper," Sandor growled at the knight.

The two sell swords dismounted with weapons drawn as Ser Rowan attempted to bypass Sandor on horseback. 

The bloodshed started quickly when Sandor ran his swords across the horse's throat quickly, not stopping to watch the beast collapse under the knight before turning on the assassins. 

"Mellina, go!" 

She obeyed without argument, kicking Stranger into a gallop through the trees as Rowan scrambled onto one of the assassin's horses and gave chase.

"What you're about to go through isn't worth what you'd be paid" Sandor informed them as they began to close in, "you ought to know that before you die" 

________________________

While Stranger had grown used to Mellina, she could not direct him as well as Sandor did. 

Ser Rowan was hot on her heels, his mount attempting to knock her off balance. 

"I'm not going to hurt you!" He called out. "We're out of sight, he won't be able to stop you from leaving if we go now."

Mellina didn't answer, but spotted the sliver of the road at the edge of the woods and pushed Stranger forward. 

"Wait! Stop!"

The words fell on deaf ears as Mellina's body lurched forward. The green and browns of the forget blurred in her vision as she felt a momentary weightlessness followed by a bolt of pain radiating through her neck and rib cage. 

Stones bit into her flesh as she felt her body drag across the ground before coming to a sudden stop. 

There was silence at first. Then the sound of hooves and then footfall. 

"Fuuuck" the black outline of a person loomed over her, "oh the queen is going to kill me." 

Mellina grunted in pain and Ser Rowan breathed a sigh of relief before looking around and pulling Mellina over his shoulders. 

Mellina tried to resist but it seemed like her body was no longer her own, her head was heavy and her eyes blurred. 

"San-" she choked. "San-"

"Sh, sh, sh. Rest. You fell hard. Don't worry, the first town we find I'll find a Maester and-"

And he rambled, saliva came back to Mellina's mouth and her vocal cords loosened enough that she could make the first noise that came to her mind. 

---------------------------------------

Wiping the last of the blood from his blade, Sandor winced reaching up to touch where the little one cracked him over the head with his own helm. 

"Tricky little cunt" he muttered but felt every five of his being tense as a scream filled the air. 

Gods, please no. 

The assassins wouldn't be needing their horses anymore, so Sandor mounted one before barreling through the woods. 

The screams kept coming steadily, cutting off every once in a while but restarting quickly after. 

Between the tree trunks, he spotted the glint of polished steel and charged forth only to skid to a halt at the sight before him. 

Mellina had, somehow, made her way onto the knight's shoulders and was battering him about that head while her face was pressed tightly to the side of his face. 

The knight was howling, scrambling to peel her off like a wild animal but she clung to him tightly until he fell to the ground and Mellins tumbled across the forest floor. 

Finally, Sandor could see why the knight had been screaming so fearfully, the right side of his head was hemorrhaging blood like a fountain. 

He heard Mellina spit and grabbed her to pull her away from the wailing man. She turned to him, a river of blood flowing down her chin and around her mouth which she wiped away only to spread it across her face. 

"My ear!" Ser Rowan wailed, "The rabid bitch bit off my fucking ear!" 

Sandor glanced down with a befuddled blink. 

She had, indeed. 

The missing appendage sat among the leaves and rocks as if it was a sort of bizarre mushroom. 

"My head." She whimpered, "fuck" 

Sandor cut the wailing short by striking the knight around the head, less to hurt and more to get his attention. 

"Hey, look at me." He growled, pulling the knight's attention, "Look at me" 

"Please" Rowan whimpered, "don't kill me."

"What did you do to my wife?"

"I-" Rowan cut off, moaning in pain. Sandor gripped his shoulder and pulled the knight up against a tree. 

"You want to live?"

"Please!"

"Then tell me what you did to me wife, and why you attacked us. Or before the Gods, I will drown you in that stream back there." 

Rowan whimpered but nodded. "Queen Cersei hired us to collect Lady Clegane and bring her your head." He confessed, "She, your wife, she was thrown from the horse. I never touched her, I swear that by the seven." 

Mellina leaned against a tree, her vision coming back. "What should we do with him?" 

"If we're smart, we should kill him," Sandor said and the knight began to weep loudly. "But I have a more creative idea." 

-------------------------------------------------------

"Ser Rowan of the Reach, Your Grace." 

Cersei sat up eagerly, "Let him in."

Cersei watched as her champion entered in full armor, her face falling instantly when she saw he was alone. 

"My Queen" he breathed through the pain, falling to his knees, "forgive me, We have failed."

"What?"

"The Lady Clegane.....did not wish to return with us. Quite the opposite."

"I wasn't aware I had given her a choice." Cersei snapped. "And why is your helm still on? Have you no respect?"

"That's just it, Your Grace" Ser Rowan moved to remove his helm, looking away in shame as Cersei's jaw tightened at the site of him. 

"They said I may live only if I deliver this message. That every man you send after them will be considered a down payment on your debt to them."

"And what debt is that, did they say?" Cersei sneered and Ser Rowan shifted uncomfortably. 

"They said you might ask that." He said, "To which Lady Clegane says; find the smallest grave in the crypts of King's Landing, and let it be a constant reminder of your time together and an assurance that before long, she will return."

Chapter Text

After it was clear Cersei had no intention of letting them slip away quietly, it was agreed that the Crownlands were no longer safe. 

The Vale, despite its difficult to traverse mountains, was their new target. 

It took several days for Mellina to recover, wavering in and out of awareness and refusing to fall asleep until Sandor was there to keep watch. 

"I can't" she refused adamantly. "Not until I feel normal again, it's not safe. I might not wake up." 

But she did wake up, after finally collapsing from exhaustion after 3 days without sleep. Sandor sat watch for hours, his own wound burning under his armor but thankfully it never festered. 

"I've heard the Vale is very beautiful." She muttered, pressed her brow into his back as they rode through the rain. The Trident was flooding over its riverbeds, raging downstream so powerfully it could sweep even the sturdiest knight into the rapids. 

"It's not too far now." He nodded, not remarking on the beauty of the country. It could be ugly as sin as long as it was safe. "We need to find shelter from this rain. The horse will sink in the mud before long." 

Mellina squinted, the landscape was blurred by pouring rain but before long her eyes settled on a spot. 

"That way" she pointed out. "A building. Maybe a mile out. See it?" 

"Aye." He nodded, "it's our best chance."

As they drew closer to the shelter they could see the structure was completely black inside. The door was hanging off the hinges and there was debris littering the ground around the small cottage. 

"It's been sacked." Mellina swallowed, eyeing the black scorch marks running up the timber beams. "Do you think it's safe?"

"Stay here." He grumbled, drawing his sword. "I'll check." 

Mellina watched from Stranger's back as Sandor pushed open the door fully with the flat of his broadsword, peering into the darkness before sheathing it. 

"It's empty, whoever was here left in a hurry." 

Mellina dismounted and peered past him. "But safe."

"Aye, safe." 

They slipped inside, bringing in Stranger despite the creature's grunts of protest. All it would take was one person to see the draft horse before they had unwelcome visitors. 

"Shut up, you daft animal," Sandor growled, tying the horse off while it stomped its foot at him. "Or it'll be you we eat next." 

"Be nice" Mellina scolded him lightly. "The poor thing's carried us far. He's just as tired as we are." 

Sandor scoffed before fumbling with his armor. "I used to love the rain. Now I don't think I ever want to see a drop again." 

"Me either " Mellina stripped off her drenched riding cloak before realizing it didn't make a lick of difference. They were both soaked to the bone. 

"Here." She pulled at his shirt, "Strip." 

"You know if you want it, you could ask nicely." 

"Not that" She swatted his hip before peeling off her dress and throwing it over a low rafter. "We'll catch our deaths if we sit around in wet clothes. And also when I want it, I've found I very rarely have to ask."

All the same, the mere suggestion of it had her peering out the corner of her eye as he kicked off his boots and unlaced his trousers. 

Fuck

Why did he have to be so fine? 

Not that she was complaining, she mentally added as if the Gods might come down and swipe up her blessing. 

"You're staring."

 She grinned, stripped to her small clothes, and leaned against the wall. "Is a wife not allowed to admire her husband?"

"There's hardly anything to admire." He shrugged, looking away from her prying eyes to hide a slight blush across his face.

"Liar." She scoffed, "Come here." 

Sandor obeyed and stifled a groan as Mellina's eager hands met his flesh. Starting at the dip of his waist she let her palms drift in opposite directions and pepper careful admiration over every inch of him.  Her mouth found his chest and placed warm kisses across it. 

"You haven't any idea how magnificent you are, have you?" She teased him, letting one hand slide his trousers down his hips. 

It was far from the most comfortable place they'd made love, but the sound of the rain on the roof and the rumble of thunder in the distance countered the dirt floor and cold air. 

Both were tired from constantly moving from place to place, constantly looking over their shoulders. The cottage became their corner of the world, momentarily cut off from the realm of men. 

Here there was only the heat of their bodies pressed against each other, the whimpers and gasps they coaxed from each other's throats, and the thick still air that enveloped them in the quiet after. 

The rain had slowed to a drizzle and they lay back on the blanket, Mellina tucked under Sandor's large arm with her legs draped over his. 

They didn't speak, there was no need.  

After a while, when the rain had stopped and their clothes had dried, they set up camp. 

"Maybe we should stay here, just for a few days," Mellina suggested hopefully. "You can't see it from the road, and it's still sturdy." 

"We'll want to reach the Vale quickly." Sandor countered. This close to Harrenhal they would never be truly safe. "Gregor's hoard was probably the ones that ran off the people who lived here."

"Maybe" she conceded. "But that means they probably won't come back for a while. They'd have taken everything of value." 

They sat in silence for a moment before he finally nodded. 

"No more than a few days. Just to get our bearings." 

The days passed quietly, so quietly they almost didn't notice when they were up. 

"A little longer." Mellina begged, "It couldn't hurt." 

If they were to stay longer, Sandor decided the door should be fixed properly. It was fairly easy as everything was still where it had been when the place was sacked. It was just a matter of collecting the nails from the dirt. 

With the door fixed, Mellina cleaned out the sod firepit in the center of the cottage and swept out any debris. 

It honestly wasn't far from the cubby she had been born in, just larger. 

Scoping out the land around them, they found a working well with good water not far off. Stranger was grateful for this, not having to walk a mile to the river for a drink. 

"It's quiet out here" Mellina admired one day while collecting firewood. "I don't think I've ever been somewhere so quiet." 

"Did you think every place was like King's Landing?"

"More or less" She confessed, handing him a bundle of dry kindling before collecting more. "Is this what the West is like?" 

"Not quite this empty." He shook his head. "Lannisport is a lot like the capital but with fewer people...and cleaner." 

"Did you grow up in Lannisport?"

"Gods no." Sandor scoffed as if grateful for the answer. "No I was the second son, so I was left behind most times. My father's Keep is mostly farmland." 

Mellina could imagine it in her mind. Green rolling countryside with healthy farms and clean air, so different from the cramped and dirty city. 

She wished desperately they had been able to escape when they planned to. None of this would have happened. 

"It sounds wonderful." 

He didn't answer, not wanting to promote further questioning. 

In his opinion the less she knew about his upbringing the better. And the same was probably true for her. 

"Did you notice the tracks?" He changed the subject, "There's deer in these woods. Probably smaller game too. " 

"Where?"

"Here," he pointed to the hoof print by his foot. 

Mellina stared at the print as if it was her first time seeing one. "Keen eye"

"Not really, you just need to know where to look." He explained, "From here you can see some deer tracks, there are a few squirrel nests in trees, probably rabbits too." 

"Can you teach me how to do that?" 

"Track?"

"If that's what it's called." 

He shrugged, "I don't see why not, we have plenty of time for it."

They didn't have a bow to hunt with, but Sandor taught her simple snares and tracking. 

He'd been right, the woods this far north were rich with small game. 

So rich they extended their stay from a few days to about 2 weeks of blissful aloneness. No one came to check in on the empty cottage, and if anyone came to draw from the well, they never saw them. 

Mellina allowed herself a moment to consider simply waiting out the war here. 

Why not?

They had plenty of food and clean water, the cottage was still decrepit but livable. 

When Autumn came they could find ways to keep themselves safe from the oncoming winter. 

She didn't know how, but her husband might. He knew so much more about that sort of thing than she did. 

They could have another baby, she thought, and this time she could keep it safe. 

Surely Cersei wouldn't send men out in Winter to hunt her down, so she'd have at least a year, if not longer. 

Maybe the Queen would forget about her by then, and find some other handmaid to wrap about her finger. 

Formulating a plan in her mind as she poked at the fire, Mellina felt a hand on the back of her head. 

"I'm going to check the snares. I won't be long." 

"Alright, love." She touched his hand, tracing her fingers along the back of it as he moved past her. "Be careful." 

The sun was setting, casting rays of orange, red, and pink across the sky behind dark clouds. 

Stoking the fire, Melline breathed in the warmth of the flames and leaned on her elbow, watching for pictures in the flames as she had been taught to as a child. 

Her brothers told her that if she was quiet and careful, she could see her future in the fire. But that might have been just a clever way to keep her busy and out of trouble. 

Footsteps outside drew her attention. Glancing up she watched a large shadow spread over the door. That shadow could only belong to one other person. 

"Back so soon Darling?" 

When no answer came Mellina smiled a little and looked up. 

Her blood went cold. 

The face that loomed over her was familiar and frighteningly happy. 

"Little sister." A voice rumbled. "It's good to see you again."

"Gregor." She tried to the tremble out of her voice but failed. 

"You've gotten yourself into some trouble." He said plainly, "Now you can come easy, or we can do this the hard way. Lucky for you, the Queen still wants you alive." 

"Please." She breathed, face beginning to burn with tears as she begged, "Please don't do this. We're your family, Sandor is your brother and they will kill him." 

"They?" Gregor scoffed, "You're dumber than you look. The Queen wants his head, not him. And that's exactly what I plan on giving her." 

Mellina choked back a scream as Gregor snatched her by her curls, dragging her across the dirt floor and out into the night. 

"Now, you're going to scream as loud as you can, understood?"

"I won't" she spat at him, "I won't do it." 

Gregor growled hand moving from her head to her throat and squeezing hard, not enough to kill her but enough to scare her half out of her mind. 

"Then I'm just going to have to make you scream." 

Chapter Text

Stranger had never been ridden hard in his life, but his equine body moved with surprising grace and speed for a creature his size. 

They were going to Harrenhal. 

It was the only place, Gregor wouldn't have started heading south for the capital without putting his sword throw Sandor's neck first. 

The trouble came with knowing that Gregor had his own men on top of Lannister Men and knowing the type of man Gregor was. 

Mellina wouldn't have screamed like that without reason. 

Even with a sword to her throat, she would have screamed RUN or STOP or GO.

Something to warn him. 

But the scream he heard could only be defined as a wail. Wordless and drawn out. People wail when they are overcome and helpless when no words could possibly help them now.

He never should have left her alone. 

He should have taken her with him. 

If he knew anything about the Lannisters it's like they were like dogs with bones, once they get something between their teeth they will not stop until there's nothing left to chew. 

He shouldn't have given in when she asked to stay longer, they could be in the Vale by now. 

You fucking idiot. 

Harrellhal wasn't far. Day and a half ride west and at the speed he was going he could make it by sunrise.

Or he would have. 

____________________________________

Whatever stories one had heard of The Mountain That Rides paled in comparison to reality. 

Gregor Clegane had managed to round up a personal garrison of some of the most vile men in Westeros. with himself at the helm. 

Had Cersei not ordered Mellina to remain unharmed, she was certain she would have been thrown to them like scraps to a pack of starving dogs. 

Instead, Gregor made it a point to his men that no one was to lay a hand on her. 

No one, that is but him. 

Blood seeping from the deep gash across her shoulder, Mellina could feel the fabric of her dress cling to the wound and it burned terribly. 

Thrown over the back of a horse was by far the worst way to ride, in her opinion

But she made no noise of protest. 

Sandor would have advised her to remain solid, to not show fear. 

Gregor fed on fear like a tick fed on blood. 

Mellina was no stranger to bloodthirsty people, but she had found the best way to survive the powerful was to endear herself to them. 

The idea of endearing herself to Gregor frankly sounded more dangerous than not. Indifference is what she strove for with her brother-in-law. 

Indifference. 

Please Gods let him forget I'm even here. 

He was silent as he ferried her back to Harrenhal, no villainous taunting or gloating. She was cargo and for that, she was almost grateful. 

It was difficult to breathe in this position, as with each gallop the air was pushed from her lungs. The best option was to keep her head down and her eyes closed. Otherwise, the motion of the horse might make her sick. 

There had to be a way out of this. 

If she went back to King's Landing, she might be able to exact the justice she so desperately wanted. 

But she wasn't going to King's Landing without Sandor's head in a basket. 

No, she could not seek her vengeance at his expense. They were all each other had left. 

So that left escape. 

Fuck. 

___________________________________________

"If you don't get the fuck out of my way, your red priest will be trying to resurrect a puddle of blood and bones."

The Brotherhood without Banners was supposed to be stationed in the Riverlands. It would be just his luck they changed positions just to get in his way. 

And of course, they would have the Stark brat, who was proving to be a pain in the ass while baying for his blood. 

"Shut up, you little cunt, before I kick you across the Trident." 

"There's only one way to settle this." Thoros insisted, "A fair trial. For the murder of the Butcher's boy." 

Sandor growled, shoving the priest again a table despite his restraints. "If you think I'm wasting time on trial while my wife is being held hostage, you've lost your damned mind." 

"If I may" Harwin interjected. "Knowing an innocent woman is in danger and refusing to give aid seems antithetical to our cause "

"I agree" Lem agreed. "Suppose that Harwin, Edric, and I ride for Harrenhal while you, Beric, and Anguy conduct the trial?"

"You'd have no chance getting there before she dies" Thoros denied. "We can't save everyone."

"We can try!" Harwin insisted. "The girl escaped Harrenhal, didn't you girl? How'd you do it?"

"I uh" Arya paled, wondering how she could explain the existence of Jaquin Hagar and her group's miraculous escape. 

"We couldn't replicate that if we tried." Gendry covered for her, "Those were unique circumstances." 

"Then what?" Lem motioned in mock helplessness, "We all just sit on our thumbs and wait?"

"Fuck that." Sandor growled, "If you cowards don't plan on doing anything, at least have the decency to let me." 

"You're a good one to talk about decency!" Arya snapped. 

"Listen you little bitch-"

"Which am I, a bitch or a cunt?"

"Fine!" Beric cut in before the two of them could get into it again. "Lem, Harwin, Edric, you go. You boy, your age?" 

Gendry looked around to make sure he was looking at him before standing alert. "ten and six, ser."

"Old enough, you go too." He nodded before turning to Clegane. "Satisfied?" 

"Not even close, I'm going to." 

"My ass." 

"And what, exactly, do you intend to do to stop me?" Sandor loomed over him. 

"Do I have your word you'll return to stand trial?"

"Not on your life."

"Then no. Wait-!"

The rope binding him was little more than a symbol when Sandor pulled it out of Harwin's grip with little effort and tugged at the loose ends as he headed for the door.

Either they would let him go or they'd kill him. He was outnumbered 4 to 1 but those were odds he'd take under the circumstances. 

"Come or don't come, makes no difference to me!"

____________________________________________

The dungeons of Harrenhal were just as grim and foreboding as the tales made them out to be. 

Small damp cells with little light save the small torches that lined the walls. 

The air smelled of mold and rot, both plant and animal decomposing in harmony until one couldn't tell one from the other. 

Mellina sat on a stool with her skirts gathered around her to avoid the skittering rats on the ground. 

She was better off than most in the cells around her, villagers throw in for minor infractions. Some had been tortured either for information or for fun. 

Gregor's band, known as the Bloody Mummers, was a foul bunch with no reservations about maiming or killing the innocent. 

Just because they were forbidden to touch her didn't mean she was free from their threats, hallow as they were. 

"You'd better be sucking the Queen's royal toes when you get back to the King's Landing, missy." Vargo Hoat, the Goat of Qohor, hissed through the bars of her cell. 

"Your cunt must feel like Myrnese silk for what she's paying for you."

"Fuck off." She growled and scoffed when he shook the bars trying to scare her. 

"How does it go between the two of you anyway? Unless you've got a cock under those skirts?" He made a lewd gesture toward his codpiece that made her grimace in disgust, "I'll show mine if you show yours." 

"Why don't you do us all a favor and go cut it off, you cretin"

Hoat laughed at her posturing, seeing through her like light through glass. 

"You know what you precious Queen has in store for you?" He taunted, staring at her instantly until she sighed. 

"No, but I can tell you're dying to tell me." 

"Once your dog is put down, her grace says she'll let Ser Gregor marry you, keep it in the family so to speak." 

The very idea turned Mellina's blood to ice. 

No

Oh Gods, no

"And trust me girly, I am looking forward to that blessing ceremony. I'm sure he won't mind if a finger or two slips in while your pretty dress comes off." 

Mellina felt a rush of revoltion twist her guts as she scooped up the metal cup she's been given and threw it at the bars where it stuck with a loud clang. 

"Shut your horrid mouth, you disgusting creature!"

The goat laughed at this, pleased to have stuck a nerve. 

After a while, he grew bored of pestering her, and she was blessedly alone. 

"Fuck" she whimpered, the familiar heat of tears filling her eyes and she tried to force them back. "No no no, fuck Sandor where ARE you?" 

Chapter Text

"Wake up!"

"Fuck off." 

Mellina winced as a wave of cold water hit her skin and jarred her from her half-sleep. 

"Seven Hells!"

Vargo Hoat, the hateful creature, unlocked her cage and stood back. 

"Ser has invited you to dinner, my lady."

"I respectfully decline."

"He wasn't asking." 

Mellina cried out as the goat snatched her by the hair and dragged her from the cell. 

A small, terrified looking maid stood aside, not daring to look up from the ground. 

"Get the bitch cleaned up and to Ser Gregor's quarters."

Mellina watched him got and made a rude gesture behind his back before turning to the maid. She couldn't be more than 20. 

"He's gone, you don't have to keep staring at the dirt." 

The girl nodded but only raised her gaze slightly to Mellina's knees. 

"This way, M'Lady"

Even under the circumstances, Mellina was glad to clean herself up. With a rough bristle brush, she scoured her skin and nail, trying to work out dirt that seemed ingrained in her flesh. 

"Allow me, M'Lady" the maid began detangling her curls, which had tangled terribly during her abduction. "It was hard finding a dress from M'Lady, I hope this will do." 

It was tight, quite tight. 

But it wasn't blood-stained and caked in mud. So it was a much appreciated improvement. 

"Thank you." She breathed as the maid laced her in. 

"M'Lady?"

"Yes?"

The maid looked around nervously before thrusting something short and sharp into her hands.

Sewing scissors. 

"Ser Gregor." She breathed in a voice laced with fear, "Can be a dangerous man. It don't feel right letting you go in unprepared."

Mellina smiled and little folding the scissors into her bodice securely. 

"You're a very brave girl-"

"Pia"

"Pia" Mellina touched her face gently. It was bruised and swollen on one side and healing on the other. "Thank you."

Mellina tried her best not to look scared. 

She was already at such a disadvantage, she didn't dare give them another to use against her. She'd managed to stay mouth and defiant so far, she hoped she could keep it up. 

Harrenhal was a mess of melted stone and crumbling towers, with very few sturdy structures remaining. 

The main structure she was worried about was the wall that encircled the fort. 

If she could get over that wall, she had a chance. 

However, it occurred to her, it might be safer, smarter even, to consider other routes of survival. 

Cersei had never been shy about the options available to women like them. 

And physical violence had never been one. 

Tears and Tits

Mellina had a feeling tears would help her very little here. 

Which left, much to her chagrin, tits. 

You don't have to fuck him, she told herself, just convince him to leave Sandor be. 

Sandor would never forgive her. 

But he'd be alive. 

That's all that mattered. 

Gregor resided in one of the only stable towers remaining and was a long climb up stairs to reach. 

Pia was reluctant to leave her, but Mellina insisted she go. 

It was up to her now. 

Gregor sat emotionless at the head of the table and did not speak when she entered. Instead, he motioned for her to come closer, and she obeyed, trying to muster a small smile for him. 

"You clean up well." 

"I appreciate the opportunity." She nodded, waiting to be told to sit as was polite. 

Gregor did not offer her a seat, instead looking her up and down. 

The pink dress hugged her hips and bust snuggly and felt it might burst at her waist. 

"You were wasted on my brother."

"It was more of a right place, right time situation." Mellina shrugged, downplaying her marriage as convenient at best. "Robert wanted to punish my queen, and he succeeded. May I?" 

Gregor nodded, pushing a chair out with his foot so she could sit. 

"You're very bold, referring to a king like that. Even a dead one."

"The queen did not favor me for my manners."

"What did she favor you for?"

"I suspect..." Mellina sat back slightly, subtly moving her chest forward so he could get a better view. "The same reason you're 'favoring' me right now. Though you strike me as less sentimental than she is." 

"I wouldn't bother paying the amount she is for a nice pair of tits if that's what you mean." 

Mellina chuckled darkly and watched as a servant poured her a glass of wine. 

"Sandor isn't going to come here if that's what you're waiting for." She advised him. 

"You don't think your husband will try to save you?"

"No," she said plainly. "But it's sweet you think he will."

"I was under the impression you and he shared a great love."

"May I be blunt?"

"Please do." 

Mellina took a deep drink from her goblet. 

"Sandor and I shared great sex." She said plainly. "But a great love? That only exists in the songs, you know that." 

Gregor laughed loudly at this, and Mellina knew he was pleased. 

I am so sorry, my love, she prayed silently. 

"You're funny" Gregor admitted, "I can see why he agreed to marry you."

"And you, apparently." Mellina drank again. "Your Jailer talks too much. But I have to ask if it's true."

Gregor sat up, eyeing her sternly "Aye, the Queen and I discussed it. You'd spend your days at court, I in the west. You don't seem opposed." 

"Highborn girls get thrown into marriage all the time, why should a girl like me get to be choosey?" She shrugged. "If he was coming he'd be here by now. It's been 2 days, it took you and me barely a day to get here." 

Gregor considered this. She was making headway. 

She had expected it to be harder than this. 

"Eat" he pressed, "leave my brother to me."

She ate very little, too nervous under his constant gaze. Her nerves urged her to drink more until her head began to grow fuzzy. 

So this is why Cersei drinks so much wine,  she thought when she felt Gregor's hands on her wrists, pulling her towards him. 

She didn't fight him. 

Not when he cupped her breasts through the too-tight bodice, or she felt his large hands pull at her small clothes under her skirt.

She didn't fight when he pushed inside of her with a grunt and she let out an involuntary gasp. 

That seemed to please him.

If she fought now, it wouldn't change anything. He'd just break her arms to keep her from pushing him off. 

It hurt terribly but she didn't cry out. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder and gripped his vest tightly.

She was sure to him she was putting on an impressive show.

She couldn't help but remember her first time with Sandor. 

He'd been so gentle with her, even knowing what she was. He was kind to her when he didn't have to be. 

I'm sorry, my darling.

Dear husband, please forgive me .

It was over before she knew it, Gregor's massive arms holding her to him tightly as he panted over her. 

She'd been straddling his lap, her chest pressed against his. Face to face.

It felt like sacrilege. 

"There's a bed chamber in this tower below mine." He breathed as he pushed her off his lap. "You'll sleep there tonight. Tomorrow I'll send word to King's Landing."

She nodded silently and turned to go, aware of his eyes with every step she took. 

Pia waited for her outside the door, watching her carefully before following with clasped hands and downcast eyes. 

When they reached the lower bed chamber, Pia locked the door and turned to her. 

"I thought you might need this."

Something cold and round was pressed into Mellina's hand and when she looked down she began to tremble. 

"It's T-"

"Tansy Tea." Mellina finished for her.

She was weeping before she even felt the tears on her face. Her knees buckled and she would have collapsed if Pia had not been there to catch her around the waist, hushing her with whispers.

"I know, M'Lady." She whispered, "I know. You mustn't feel badly about it. It would have gone worse for you if you hadn't. You did yourself a favor."

"I want to die." Mellina sobbed, "Oh Gods, what have I done?"

"Enough of that." Pia said firmly, "Don't even think things like that, because if you do it'll be all you think about. You want to get back to your husband don't you?"

"I can't face him." Mellina drooped to her knees leaning against the bed, "I can't. He'll despise me forever."

"Any husband who would prefer his wife beaten within an inch of her life and locked in the darkest cell in Harrenhal over her doing what needs to be done to survive doesn't deserve the title of Husband." Pia insisted firmly, taking the bottle from her hand and pulling the cork before pressing it to Mellina's lips. "Here, drink it. Or you'll regret it the rest of your life." 

Mellina obeyed, letting the bitter medicine slide down her throat. If it worked, she'd be bleeding by tomorrow morning. 

"Now." Pia sighed, "You're going to rest, and I am going to sit here and make sure no one comes through that door. Yeah?"

Mellina felt like a small child being handled by a well-meaning adult and nodded obediently. 

But she didn't sleep, instead, she sat there waiting for Pia to drift off to sleep as Mellina knew she would. 

When the maid was snoring lightly, Mellina slipped out of bed and over to the large window that looked out over the Trident. 

The wind was blowing fiercely and bit her skin through her dress. The skirt whipped around her legs as her bare feet found the window ledge and pushed herself up. Her finger gripped the stone on either side of her as she stared down. 

Surely this is high enough, she thought to herself. 

It would only take a second. 

One, maybe two seconds of wind rushing by her head and then-.

It would be better that way. 

She wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of the truth or the torment of holding on to a lie. 

Sandor could move on. 

Maybe, if the Gods were good, she would see her son. 

But something pulled at her stomach like the feeling of eyes watching her. It was the curious certainty that someone close by had called out her name, but she'd just missed it. 

Stepping down from the ledge, Mellina turned and looked around the room. 

Pia slept soundly. 

Perhaps it was Gregor, come to continue what she'd started earlier. 

There it was again. 

She heard nothing and yet she was sure someone was calling her. 

"Where are you?" She whispered in the darkness. 

A warmth beckoned her away from the chill of the window and further into the room towards the fireplace. 

A strong blaze was cracking merrily, but Mellina had no memory of Pia starting a fire. 

She sat before the flames and savored the warmth that licked at her skin. The flames were mesmerizing, drawing her eyes into the very deepest part of the embers. 

She saw a face, a young man with black hair and dark eyes. He was ahorse bearing a Lannister banner but dressed plainly.

He had a message for her.

She was unsure how she knew it, but she did. 

He was close. 

Patience  a silent voice called out to her.  Patience

Your deliverance is coming

Chapter Text

No sooner had the word been sent to King's Landing of Mellina's capture did they receive a response in the form of a singular rider bearing the gold and crimson standard of House Lannister. 

Mellina was roused from sleep in the early morning of her third day in captivity. 

Despite that first night, Mellina had been treated well.

Having convinced Gregor that she was completely agreeable to their eventual betrothal, he mostly ignored her. 

He did try once more to enter her bed, but she managed to put him off without offending his ego. 

"My reputation at court will be shaky enough." she reasoned with him, "Gods forbid you put a bastard in me before the wedding."

She had kept Pia close, unofficially making the girl her personal maid. The young servant was thankful, if only because it gave her some form of shield between herself and Gregor's men. 

"My Lady." Pia roused her, "My Lady, you've been summoned."

Mellina sighed but nodded and slipped into the tight pink gown once more. 

The sun hadn't even risen yet. Most of the men would have been asleep, Gregor among them. 

"My Lady." Vargo Hoat greeted her with an unusual level of respect as she entered the main hall. There she was met with Gregor out of armor and a handful of his men surrounding a newcomer. 

He was a young man, no older than 18, with a strong body and inky black hair. His face was angular and handsome even for a boy his age. 

He carried the Lannister Lion banner and was clad in battle-worn armor over a red jerkin. 

Mellina knew his face even before he spoke. 

He was from the fire. 

"What's all this then, My Lords?" Mellina asked with faux cheerfulness, "All is well, I hope."

"This man says he is with a Lannister regimen not far from here. The Capitol received our raven and instructed the nearest group to retrieve you" Gregor slid the parchment tube through his palms thoughtfully. 

He wasn't the brightest man south of the wall, but something about this didn't sit right with him. 

Mellina looked the boy over with equal skepticism. 

He didn't look like a soldier, not even close. 

His dark eyes were nervous and stared at her as if trying to convey some sort of silent message. 

"I've been direct to deliver you presently, M'Lady." He swallowed, "They say a terrible  storm  is on the horizon, and we will want to move quickly to avoid it." 

"A storm?" Mellina's voice sounded out the word carefully. "I suppose it would be best we made haste then." 

"Wait just a minute." Gregor gripped the boy's shoulder tightly, "I don't recognize your face, boy. What garrison did you say you were with?"

"I-" The messenger paled, "The 17th, M'Lord. Just west." 

"Aye." Gregor's eyes narrowed and Mellina's blood went cold. 

"I remember you," she interjected thoughtlessly and scrambled for an explanation when all eyes moved to her. "You were in the Capitol when Stannis's fleet attacked the Blackwater. But you were just in the stables then, weren't you? My, how far you've come." 

Her eyes begged him to catch on to the lie and thank the gods, he did. 

"Aye, M'Lady has a good memory. " he nodded slowly. 

Gregor rumbled in distrust, eyeing the order in his hands again. 

It didn't bear the red seal of Lannister but the wording was far beyond a peasant or a knight. 

Whoever wrote it had been highborn. 

"I will send one of my men with you for security." Gregor decided before training his steeling gaze on Pia "You, maid, ready your mistress for travel."

There was little to ready in all honesty, Mellina had come with nothing and would leave with the clothes on her back. 

How strange, she thought, to be on the other side of the social wall. 

Pia skittered after her in a way that was both incredibly foreign and achingly familiar. 

So that's what she'd looked like, eyes down, hands folded, silent until spoken too. 

No wonder Sandor had mocked her at their first meeting. 

"Write to me when you reach King's Landing," Gregor instructed Mellina firmly as she mounted a fawn-colored gelding. "And when my brother shows his ugly face, I will have his head delivered to you in a basket."

Mellina swallowed her repulsion and forced herself to gently caress the hand he placed boldly on her thigh. 

"I look forward to it eagerly, My Lord." She smiled before driving the horse forward, following the unknown messenger through the gates of Harrenhal. 

They rode in silence, galloping as fast as their mount could take them out the castle grew small on the skyline. 

When she was sure they were out of sight of the castle, Mellina eyed the man Gregor sent to guard her. 

He was a smallish man, average height but thin. His wispy blonde mustache hung over his top lip like a scraggly mop. 

Sticking to the King's Road, it wasn't long before Mellina's ear picked up movement around them. 

Too big for squirrels, too quiet for deer. 

Their leader pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the dirt road, puzzling Gregor's man. 

"Oy," The smallish man barked, "What're you doing lad, admiring the scenery?"

"Something like that."

The voice came from the tree line and before Mellina could process it, an arrow had burrowed itself through the blonde man's eye and out the back of his head. 

Mellina's horse panicked a moment, but she managed to soothe it while staring at the young man who motioned for her to stay still. 

The forms of men crept out of the misty forest and Mellina's breath caught in her throat until she breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she saw the tallest one duck under a tree branch to reach the road. 

"Sandor" Mellina dismounted and pushed past the brush and thorn bushes to throw her arms around him and laughed when he enveloped her in an embrace. "I was so sorry, I thought something might have happened. Thank the Gods you're alright!"

"Did he touch you?" Sandor looked her over and winced at the large gash that had scabbed over on her chest. "That fucker."

"It's fine, I'm fine" she lied. "I'm back with you and that's what counts." 

"This is all very sweet." An annoyingly noble-sounding voice came from behind them, "But we still have a deal, Clegane. We kept our end of the bargain." 

"Oh bugger off, you self-righteous twat." Sandor growled, "Or I'll send you back to Dondarrion with your head up your ass." 

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be" A knight garbed in a rather loud yellow cape insisted. "We helped save your lady, now it's time to stand trial as we agreed."

"We didn't agree on shit." 

"What trial?" Mellina frowned, gripping her husband's arm protectively. "What's all this about a trial, who are you?"

"They call themselves The Brotherhood or some shit." Sandor explained plainly "Apparently their fire god has a bone to pick with me."

"My husband has committed no crime." Mellina stated firmly, "I can attest to that myself."

"With all due respect, My Lady." A handsome knight with long brown curls looked sympathetic, "We have a witness to the murder of a young boy, and your husband confessed to the crime."

"Nonsense" she denied flatly, "I thank you for your help in my rescue, I truly do. But please, leave us in peace." 

"That is unfortunately not an option."

"We do not wish for this to become violent." The yellow-cloaked knight drew his sword, "But at the moment you're outnumbered 4 to 1. You can either come with us and stand trial, or you can die here on the road."

Sandor tried to determine if he could take them. 

If they came one at a time, sure. But he had a feeling that wasn't going to happen. 

Not to mention his sword with back with Dondarrion, so they were both unarmed. 

He looked at his wife, still wounded. 

Had there been a time in the weeks they'd been traveling that she wasn't wounded? It seemed she was always hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Fine" He growled and gripped Mellina's shoulder when she raised her voice to protest.

"But on one condition, no matter what happens to me you leave my wife out of this. If I die, you give her my horse and my arms, and you let her go."

"An honorable request." The brown-haired one nodded, "It will be done."

"No." Mellina breathed, "No, no, no. Stop, stop please." she begged as her husband gently pried her grip from his arm and moved forward. 

But there was no stopping the train once it was in motion, and nothing she could say would make any difference. 

All she could do was accept Sandor's hand when it was offered and cling to him on Stranger's back as they started back down the road. 

By nightfall, they had made it to a series of caves carved into a stony hillside. The interior of the cave glowed with firelight and before it stood two men, one broad-chested in leather armor wielding a sword, the other cloaked in dirty red rags. 

Mellina's grip on Sandor grew tightly as he pulled Stranger to a stop. 

"You returned."

"Wasn't given much of a choice." 

The leather-clad man laughed sardonically and nodded at Mellina who greeted the gesture with a sour look. 

"We are all very glad to see your safe return, My Lady."

"And equally happy to put a sword through my husband, as I have heard."

Dondarrion wince slightly at the sharpness of her tone. "It is the Lord of Light who will be casting judgment, My Lady. I am simply his tool." 

"His executioner, you mean."

"Let's just get this over with." The knight of the yellow cloak called, dismounting. 

"We can just ride away," Mellina whispered to Sandor over his shoulder. "We could just go. Please, please, let us leave." 

"We've too many people on our asses, as it is." Sandor growled, "If this gets them off our backs, it's worth it. Besides, there's someone in there you've been looking for."

Mellina blinked in confusion as he dismounted, "Who?"

"Arya Stark."

"A-" Mellina choked, "Arya Stark? How in the seven hells did she get all the way out here?" 

"Ask her yourself." Sandor assisted her off the horse. "We'll have plenty of time for it."

"Do you promise?"

Sandor chuckled darkly, glancing at the cave alight with flame with a small squeeze in his chest. 

"I've fought tougher men than Dondarrion in my sleep." He cupped her face reassuringly and Mellina leaned into it, fearing it would be the last touch she would ever get. 

"I need you to promise me something."

"Anything." 

She gripped his hand tightly to her face, staring into his face with eyes as dark as the night around them. 

"Whatever you have to do, no matter how dishonorable it seems, do not under any circumstances, lose." 

Chapter Text

Arya made her formal accusation before The Brotherhood with courage in her voice.

Murder

The murder of Mycha the Butcher's Boy, the redheaded child Mellina had seen slung over Stranger's back that night over a year ago. 

The one she dared not ask about. 

"You needn't look so afraid."

Mellina turned to the red priest incredulously, having been forced to the sidelines while Sandor readied himself for a trial by combat. 

He was clearly trying to stay tough, but Mellina making no such effort. 

The cave they'd come to was filled with men, most of them deserters from every army across Westeros. 

"You're trying to kill my husband," she said plainly, "you're trying to kill the man I love and you're telling me I needn't be afraid."

Thoros of Myr was an endlessly patient man, and so did not take her venom to heart. 

"If the Lord of Light deems that he should live, he will live."

"And why should I trust your Lord of Light?" She snapped, "What have the Gods ever done, but watch as those of us below suffer?".

Thoros chuckled knowingly. "He told you we were coming to save you, didn't he?" 

Mellina froze. 

"When you were standing on that window ledge, ready to meet your Doom, was it not he who drew you back and promised deliverance?" 

"How the fuck do you know that?" Mellina paled. 

Thoros didn't answer but patted her back reassuringly. "Between you and me, I don't think the Lord of Light would be so cruel as to bring you back to your husband, only to take him away."

Mellina scoffed. "The Gods have done crueler things."

"And so has your husband." 

The conversation went no further, as Dondareon rallied his men together and announced that Sandor was to be judged for murder by Trial by Combat. 

Mellina stood close by, cloaked in shadow and terror. She longed to embrace her husband one last time but dared not. 

They had to remain stalwart.

Show no fear. 

"Good luck, Husband" was all she could say, face tight with concealed emotion. 

The Lord of Light would not be so cruel as to return you to your husband just to take him away.

Prove him right Mellina begged silently, staring into the flaming pit in the center of the cave. They say you're different from the other gods, that you actually help people? Prove it. 

If you're the God they say you are, you know I won't survive without him. 

I know he's done terrible things, and that I am just as guilty because I stood by silently and loved him despite it. 

I know that I am as much a murderer as he is. 

But please, please, please. 

Don't let it end like this. 

Steel rang out into the night as it clashed together, punctuated by the thud of wooden shields volleying blows. 

Mellina's pulse was racing as the cheers and cries from onlookers grew louder with each blow. 

He was going to die. 

Dondareon was too good, and Sandor was just barely holding his own. 

It did not help that Dondarrion was in possession of a literal flaming sword, which Mellina was sure gave an unfair advantage. 

It wasn't long before the random shout and jeers of the crowd began to form one uniform chant 

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. 

One voice rose up louder than the others. 

A voice so young and yet so full of rage it shook Mellina to the core. 

"Kill him!" 

And it seemed Dondareon would do just that, and Mellina sealed her eyes shut, unwilling to watch Sandor disappear from her life as quickly as he had entered it.

But the roar of the crowd became wails of disbelief and anger. 

Dondareon was slain. 

It had been a last-ditch attempt, and it had worked brilliantly. 

Forcing the blade through the knight's shoulder, Sandor all but severed the limb at the joint and didn't wait to watch him fall. He was more focused on the fire that was feasting on his arm and threatened to break the skin. 

"No!" Arya howled in her juvenile rage. 

Mellina, on the other hand, went nearly limp with relief. Stumbling forward, she knelt by her husband and grabbed at him as the Stark child raged.

"Sandor" she breathed, "oh Gods, you did it." 

"Arya, no!" 

Mellina gasped as a sharp pain radiated through her hip. It wasn't horrible, but it caught her off guard enough to draw a yelp. 

One of Dondareon's men managed to wrestle a dagger from the 12 year old who kicked and spat with all her might. 

"Looks like your God likes me more than your butcher's boy" Sandor couldn't help but gloat until Mellina pressed her hand to the pain and drew it back to find blood. "That rabid little bitch"

"Leave her be," Mellina grunted, rising and examining the would enough to find it was little more than a scratch. "She's been through enough, the poor thing" 

Sandor growled but rose, snatching his sword from the ground and eyeing Dondareon's corpse nervously 

"That poor thing would have put that knife through your heart if she had the chance."

"Well, she didn't." Mellina sighed before turning to Thoros, who was huddled over Dondareon and muttering madly. "I take it we are free to go" 

"Aye, free to go" 

The voice shook both husband and wife to their core. Mellina felt almost ill as Thoros knelt back on his heels to reveal the slain knight looking good as new and somehow smugly satisfied. 

"What in the 7 hells?" Sandor snatched his wife back from the reanimated dead man as if he might steal her away. 

"This isn't the end, Clegane." He laughed at their fear as he rose back to his feet. "It seems the Lord of Light isn't finished with you just yet." 

"Go." Mellina pushed her husband towards the mouth of the cave with wide eyes. "Go, go, go, go, go." 

They were not obstructed as they fled, Mellina snatching up the gelding from Harrenhal while Sandor led on Stranger. 

They rode hard for about an hour before coming to a smaller cave in the hillside that would make a decent shelter. 

Mellina was still shell-shocked as they fumbled in the darkness, neither wanting to light a fire for light. 

They didn't speak, for neither knew what to say. 

Finally, Mellina was the first to speak. 

"Thank you." She breathed, "for getting me out of Harrenhal" 

"Well." Sandor's head rested against the cool stone wall of the cave, "no one deserves to be stuck with that fucker." 

There was a pregnant pause before he sighed, "Did he-?"

"Do you remember when you married me?" Mellina cut in, "You told me it would be better to not ask questions when I came to things you did for the Lannisters? That it was better that way?"

"Yeah." He grunted uncomfortably, "I do."

"I think it would be easier." She breathed, "If we just didn't talk about it. Can we do that?"

Sandor went quiet, a silent agreement.

"Thanks" 

She palmed the rocks along the walls until she found him, at least the blob of darkness that was him, and squeeze his arm tightly. 

"Were you hurt?"

"No" he assured her, "no, I'm fine. How's your chest?" 

"Still healing" she shrugged, "pain's mostly gone though." 

She wanted to apologize to him. For making them stay in one place for too long. For betraying him in ways he likely knew about but was too good to insist upon. For always being a burden for him to drag about like a manacle on his neck.

"Those Stark girls are tougher than I thought." She changed the subject. "Do you think she's safe with Dondareon?"

"As safe as she is with anyone" Sandor grumbled, "why?"

Mellina frowned in the darkness, not even needing to elaborate for Sandor to pick up her meaning. 

"Absolutely not!"

"We're headed towards the Vale anyway."

"Did you already forget she tried to stab you?"

"She's a little girl" Mellina insisted, "Her father is dead, her brother and mother at war. She has an aunt in the Vale. We take her there and she'll be safe."

Sandor considered this a moment. "She would fetch a pretty ransom."

"That's not what I meant."

"Woman, do you think money just falls from the sky? Or that we can survive on good intentions alone?" Her husband snapped. "You want to help the girl, fine. But we need to help ourselves as well." 

Mellina pouted, hating that he was right. 

"We get the Ransom." Sandor laid out, "She's safe and sound with her aunt, and we'll secure passage across the Narrow Sea. Cersei's a mad bitch, but I doubt even she would try to find us off the continent." 

Mellina rolled the idea around in her head before sighing. "There is a sort of logic to it.....alright, we'll go with your plan."

"Glad you approve" he grumbled, "Now go to sleep."

Chapter Text

Mellina wished she'd been born a bear. 
A large, burly brown bear with warm fur and sharp claws, and an even bigger bear lover to keep her warm and safe. 
No one bothered bears, not usually. 

Only arrogant lordlings looking for a trophy to mount hunted bears, and she could knock their heads off their shoulders with one swipe. 

They could stay in this very cave, foraging for food and when winter came, they'd stay tucked away from the blustering winds and icy hale. And then they'd just sleep in peace. 

No fear of someone coming to root them out. 

No need to jump at every little sound. 

She'd give anything to have one night's sleep in peace. 

She sat at the back of the cave near a small fire, staring into the dancing flames and savoring the warmth when she heard a commotion at the mouth. 

Oh Gods, she winced internally, just leave us alone. 

All the same, she crept in the safety of the shadows towards the noise. 

"Priest, you take one step closer, and I'll put this rock through your eye."

"I don't want any trouble, Clegane." The red priest put his dagger on the ground in a show of peace. "I've come to speak with your wife." 

"And what the fuck would you want with her?" Sandor growled. 

"Just to talk." Thoros did not back down from Sandor's protective huff, "The Lord as my witness."

"And what if I don't want to talk to you," Mellina called, peering out at him from the shadows. "What then?"

Thoros squinted, struggling to find her in the dim light but motioned for her to come out. 

"If you please, My Lady. I think this well worth your time." 

Mellina emerged fully, eyes flashing in the waning sunlight and arms crossed over her chest defensively. 

Thoros looked to Sandor hesitantly. 
"Would you mind-?"

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of him." Mellina denied, "We've no secrets. Now what do you want?" 

"I know what you saw in the fire in Harrenhal" Thoros began plainly. "I know he told you that we were coming." 

"A person may see a number of things when in distress." Mellina shrugged, "Doesn't mean your god was there." 

"Aye, perhaps." Thoros nodded, "But then why do you continue to stare into the fire?"

Mellina's skin prickled and she frowned. 

"You told me all this last night." She averted his gaze from him, "Why come all this way just to repeat yourself?"

"Beleive the Lord of Light is not done with you." His gaze shifted from her to Sandor and back again. "Either of you. He knows of your pain, My Lady. And he plans to make sure it is not in vain."

Mellina choked on a bitter laugh. "What would your god know of my pain, priest?" 

Thoros closed the gap between them so quickly Sandor didn't have time to grab him before Thoro's mouth was inches from Mellina's ear. 

"Your son may be gone, but in you still sits a mother's rage. The need to protect the most vulnerable among us. Use it." 

Sandor snatched the red priest by his collar and threw him to the dirt but before he could pummel the man Mellina stayed his hand. Her dark eyes were wide with confusion and still fresh grief. 

Thoros looked at her as if sorry he had poked her wounds but pulled himself from the ground and dusted himself off. 
"I no longer believe it best The Stark Girl travels with The Brotherhood." He confessed, "We were taking her to her aunt in The Vale. I understand you two were headed in the same direction."

"Aye." Sandor scoffed, "Are we supposed to believe you'd give up on that ransom? Do you think we're idiots?" 

"It is not the money I care for." Thoros snapped, "It is ensuring an innocent child is removed from harm's way as quickly as possible."

"Is Arya in danger with you?" Mellina pressed, "What's happened?"

Thoros looked away with a disappointed look. "I love Beric, I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. But I fear he'd rather be ambushing Lannister troops than traveling over mountains with a 13-year-old. Arya needs someone who will look out for her best interests."

"And you think Dondareon is just going to let you give her to us?"

"Surely not." Thoros shook his head. "Tomorrow night, I will lead the men in a raid on some Lannister men nearby. She will be lightly guarded. Though I suggest The Twins rather than The Eyrie."

"That's at the Twins?" 

"Her eldest brother and her mother. Her uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls."

Sandor sniffed, unconvinced, "She won't come willingly." 

Thoros smirked, "No, probably not. But children rarely know what's best for them. That's why they need adults around to watch out for them. Don't you agree, My Lady?"

Mellina twisted her fingers but nodded, looking to Sandor. 

"What do you think?"

The soldier shrugged, "Fuck it. Let's do it." 

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Thoros did his part well. He led the bulk of his men out into the darkness with only a few to guard the cave. 

Luckily enough, Arya had her own plans for leaving The Brotherhood. Dashing blindly through the darkness, she was cut off within minutes by Sandor who gracelessly snatched the small teen around the arms and covered her mouth. 

"Sh, sh, sh." Mellina tried to hush her. "Don't scream. We're not here to hurt you."

"Ow, fuck!" Sandor swore and ripped his hand from the girl's face, "The rabid bitch bit me."

"Don't be a baby." Mellina scolded before jumping back as Arya's foot narrowly missed her chest. 

"Let me go!" Arya bellowed, "Let me go or I'll scream!"

"Listen, you're trying to get back to your family, right?" Mellina hissed, grabbing the next foot that came her way and holding it firm. "Your brother and mother will be at The Twins for your uncle's wedding. If we leave now, we can get you there in time." 

"You're a liar." Arya insisted, still flailing. "You'll take me back to King's Landing."

"Never. Hey, hey!" Mellina pinned the girl's legs together under her arm and stared at her with dead serious eyes. "You have my word, on my honor, that none of us will be going anywhere near King's Landing."

"Why should I believe you?" the girl hissed. 

"Because you're not the only one the Lannisters put a price on," Mellina explained. "Now we have a chance to help enough in this, but it's only going to work if you stop trying to kick me and start cooperating." 

Arya stilled and frowned deeply. 

"Are you going to stop kicking?"

"...Yes"

"Promise?"

".... Promise."

Mellina released her legs and Arya wiggled in Sandor's grasp, "You can let me go now."

"Not a chance, girl." Sandor scoffed. 

They set out that night and rode through to dawn. Arya rode in front of Sandor on Stranger while Mellina followed beside on the gelding. 

"We're going to have to stop at some point." Arya pointed out but Mellina shook her head. 

"Not if there are Lannister men around. We need to put some distance between us and them." 

It wasn't until that night when the three of them were 10 steps past exhausted that they finally stopped to rest. 

Sandor tended the now bedraggled horses while Mellina made a fire and Arya sat half asleep against a tree.

"We should probably do something at her." Sandor pointed out. "She'll run as soon as we close our eyes."

"If she's half as tired as we are, she won't get far." Mellina sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the child. 
She scowled even in her sleep. 

"Still, we'd better tie her up or something." 

"Whatever you think is best." Mellina was too tired to argue and plopped down on a bed of grass and dirt while her husband managed to secure a strong tether to Arya's ankle without waking her. The tree anchored her to the spot and gave only a few feet of leeway. 

"You know most people tuck children in at night. Never thought we'd have to tie one down." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Arya when the sun was high in the sky and still managed to be the first one up. 
With a yawn, she instinctively stood to stretch and nearly tripped over herself when her right leg stopped short. 

"Awe, what?" She growled. 

Glaring at the two adults on the other side of the smoldering coals of the fire pit, Arya sat and waited for them to wake. 

When this took longer than she wanted, the teen scanned the ground around her. Snatching up an acorn, she tossed it over the coals but missed them by a few inches. 

A second acorn struck Mellina's shoulder but went unnoticed. 

Grunting with frustration but interested to see how many she could hit them with before they woke up, Arya tossed a third nut and it struck Sandor's temple. 

He frowned deeply in his sleep and began to rouse himself when another projectile struck his throat. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He grumbled. 

"I've been sitting here for ages," Arya complained. 

"Shit." Sandor noticed how high the sun was and nudged his wife. "Wake up."

"No" She whined as he nudged her again.

"We overslept, come on. We can't stay too long in one place." 

Mellina groaned, back aching from the hard ground as she rose. 

"Erm, a little help please?" Arya motioned to the tether on her leg. 

"Oh, sorry." Mellina fumbled with the knot, "Safety." 

"Why are you taking me to my brother?" Arya asked, "Do you need the money?"

"Everyone who isn't from a Great House needs money these days girl," Mellina advised her. 

"But I thought you were the Queen's favorite, and The Hound protected Joffrey. If you need money wouldn't the Lannisters help you?"

Mellina scoffed at that, remembering how little Arya knew. "We don't have time to explain the whole story. Let's just say we got on their bad side." 

"So how long until we get to the Twins?"

Mellina thought for a moment before turning towards Sandor. 

"Darling, what's our timeline?"

"6 days, maybe a week if we keep oversleeping" He replied as he saddled the horses. 

"There you are then." 

Arya's next question danced on her tongue, unsure if she should risk offending the people delivering her to her brother.

"I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Is it true you were forced to marry him?" Arya inquired. 

Mellina froze and painted a smile across her face. 

"What a question. Why do you ask?"

"I heard my Mother and Father talking when you came to Winterfell. She didn't want to let the King use our sept because she said it was wrong of the king to force you to marry someone like...him" 

Mellina smiled a little. 

Bless Lady Stark, she thought before chuckling. 

"Yes, it is true Sandor and I were forced to marry by the King," she confessed. 

"Why do you stay?" Arya looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a whisper. "If we both run together, we can make it to the Twins and I'm sure my mother and brother would protect you."

Mellina's heart clenched. 

"What a brave girl you are." she breathed, "Unfortunately, I've grown quite attached to my husband, and Gods know he's the last person I'd ever need to be protected from." 

Arya frowned in disappointment and Mellina gently guided her toward the horses. 

"I know this is all very sudden, and that you think the worst of him and I don't blame you one bit. But believe me, Arya, we are going to do everything we can to get you back to your family safely."

Arya considered this a moment, wary of these semi-strangers of whom she only had the worst opinion. But ultimately, she decided that a common goal would have to be enough for an uneasy truce. 

At least until she could return home. 

Chapter Text

Darkness fell over the Red Keep like a blanket speckled with silver stars.
Cersei's emerald eyes tracked each star intently, tracing out the constellations she'd learned as a child.

"Are you well, Your Grace?"

Turned, Cersei took in the sight of the woman in her bed. One of Baelish's girls.
She was pretty enough, and fit the description she had requested.
Chestnut curls, broad hips, and breasts, soft around the middle with plush thighs.
But it wasn't the same.

She couldn't even remember the girl's name, not that it really mattered.

"I'm fine." Cersei sniffed shortly, pouring a generous goblet of arbor gold and wrapping her red silk robe around her tightly, "You may go. Your master has been paid in advance."

The woman nodded quietly, gathering her thin summer dress and letting it slip over her head.

Oh, why wasn't it the same?

Cersei had momentarily convinced herself that her infatuation for her runaway lover was purely physical, and could be easily replicated.

But neither handmaid, noblewoman, nor whore could satiate the longing that had planted itself in the queen's heart and twisted around her bones like strangling vines.

The Mountain had assured her that Mellina was on her way, and happy to return to the embrace of her queen.
The idea had been enough to have Cersei practically floating down the corridors and glowing in anticipation.

But a week went by, then another.
Ravens were sent and returned.

She had vanished yet again.
The envoy tasked with guarding her was found dead no more than two miles from Harrenhal.

Cersei wanted to scream.
She wanted to rage and swing her fists and curse the gods for being so cruel with their teasing.

What this what Robert had felt? She wondered one night, three goblets of wine into the evening and draped over her chaise.
When Rhaegar Targaryen had spirited away Lyanna Stark, was this the rage that had driven Robert to raise his legendary rebellion and cave in the silver prince's chest with his mighty hammer?

Would that she could.

Oh, My sweet girl. Cersei finished off her goblet and crawled under the covers of her grand bed.
When will you come home to me?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sweat cooled Mellina's skin as she desperately clung to the bed sheet's around her.
She wasn't sure how much more she would take, but it was clear she had little choice but to accept what was thrust up her as Cersei's clever fingers rolled her pebbled nipple in one hand and curled three fingers into her dripping cunt with the other.

Back arched as far as she could go, Mellina's body trembled and shied away from the torturous, delightful touch.

"Gods, ah!" Mellina's thigh squeezed tightly, earning her a scolding slap and the Queen digging her nails into the soft flesh.

"Naughty girl" The lioness tutted, "Trying to keep what belongs to me hidden. I should have you punished for that."

"I'm sorry." Mellina panted, twisting the sheets in her hands in anxious excitement. "I'll be good."

"All the same." The queen gave a grin with teeth that looked more like fangs, "Perhaps I should have your husband pin your legs apart so you won't be tempted."

Mellina's heart pounded eagerly as she heard the squeal of door hinges and she craned her next back to watch her beloved enter.

Only it wasn't Sandor.

Mellina's blood went cold as she tried to scramble up only to find herself pinned to the bed by some unseen force.

Gregor's cruel laugh filled her ears as she screamed and fought against her restraints.

"Get off!" she cried, "Get off, don't touch me!"

Something gripped her wrists tightly and she thrashed against it fiercely, fingers curled into claws and digging her nails into flesh.

"Off! Get off!"

"Mellina! Wake up!"

Her body fell through the air and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her and rattling her head painfully.
Ragged pants tore through her lungs as she fought for every breath against the massive weight that pinned her to the ground.

"Mel-Mellina, stop!"

She did, freezing in place as the weight rose off her and she gathered the courage to open her eyes.

It was still dark, the sky still full of stars.
She could smell the smoke rising off a crackling fire.

She wasn't in the Red Keep.
She was just west of the Green Fork, 2 days south of The Twins.

Cersei wasn't here and neither was Gregor.

She was safe.

Gathering herself, Mellina sat up and looked around her, suddenly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry" she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"You were screaming."

Mellina glanced behind her and found Arya pressed against a tree trunk, still eyeing her warily. Her eyes were wide and her face pale in the firelight.

"Oh," Mellina felt awful. "Arya, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I wasn't frightened." the girl sniffed, regaining her usual stony expression.

"Fuck, I was," Sandor growled, gripping her shoulder firmly, shaking it to get her attention. "Don't you ever scream like that again unless you're dying."

"I'm sorry," Mellina winced, a defensive edge to her voice. "It was just a dream."

A dull pain ran through her abdomen, and she grunted softly and pressed her hand to the ache.

"I'm sorry I scared you both, please just let it go. It was just a stupid dream."

Sandor grumbled discontentedly but nodded.

The trio settled into an uneasy silence for the rest of the night, none of them managing to get a decent rest
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mellina's grip on the reigns was white-knuckle tight as she road ahead of Sandor and Arya.

3 days.

That's how long they had been bickering, ceasing only for sleep.
From the first mourning dove's coo in the morning to the screech of the owl at night.

At first, she had tried to mediate, but it was clear that neither of them intended on paying her any mind.

Her nerves were frayed.
Her stomach and hips cramped from her monthly blood, and the sway of the gelding under her was evolving from tedious to nauseating.

Their voices behind her dissolved from words into a dull buzz, constant and irritating.

Her jaw tightened painfully from hours of grinding her teeth and she let her eyes level out on the horizon. Just ahead, off the road a piece, sat a silver pond. It was surrounded by a thin circle of young willows and glittered in the sunlight.

"Uh..." Arya ended whatever point she was trying to make as she watched the gelding veer off the path and down the grassy hill. "Where is she going?" 

I-I don't know." Sandor blinked in confusion. 

"Should we follow her?"

Rearing Stranger off the path, Sandor watched as Mellina stopped at the pond and dismounted. 

What on earth was she doing?

"Mellina?" 

"No." She snapped, crouching at the edge of the water before falling onto the back. "No, I'm not okay. No, I do not want your help. I just want the both of you to shut up for a minimum of 20 minutes." 

"But-" 

"No." 

Arya turned to Sandor and the two exchanged a concerned look. 

"Alright." 

Arya dismounted softly, consciously trying to make as little noise as possible. 

"Don't go too far," Sandor instructed, hovering judge of the edge of Mellina's unspoken bubble.

Arya didn't answer but moved to the other side of the pond to give them some space. 

"Mel?" 

"What the fuck did I just say, Sandor?" 

"Is this about last night?" 

Mellina drew a deep breath, her ribs rising and falling with the effort as she threw one arm over her eyes to hide her face. 

"Don't worry about it." 

"I wouldn't" He lowered himself to the ground with a groan. "However, my wife is currently trying to bury her head in the sand in the middle of nowhere, which is concerning" 

"I AM NOT BURYING-" 

"Hey!" He snapped, cutting her off, "I know this hasn't been easy, but don't fucking take it out on me. I'm in this mess just as deep as you are. Now we can either waste time yelling at each other about it, or we can keep it together and finish this. So what is it going to be?" 

Mellina fell stubbornly silent and Sandor snorted. 

"Fine, fucking sulk. But if you're not on that horse in 10 minutes, we're leaving you behind." 

Mellina listened to him rise and leave her and breathed a sigh that was half a growl. 

After a few moments, she heard more movement by her head. Glancing under her arm Mellina blinked and looked up fully before looking away embarrassed. 

"You shouldn't have had to see that." 

"It's alright." Arya shrugged. "Here." 

She thrust a bundle of greens into Mellina's sight. 

Mellina winced as she rose, dull pain radiating from her middle with each movement. 

"What is it?"

"I forget their name" Arya shrugged, "but my mother used it for the pain when she gets her blood. You chew on the leaves." 

Mellina smiled sheepishly, "is it that obvious?"

"I saw the blood this morning," Arya said plainly. 

"Thank you, Arya, you're a sweet girl." 

Arya pulled a face, "ew" 

"If you want, I can throw an acorn at his head." The child offered. "I've gotten really good" 

"No" Mellina sighed, pushing herself off the ground and tucking a few leaves of the handy plant between her teeth. 

It tastes cold and sharp. 

"I shouldn't have yelled, none of this is his fault." 

Arya sniffed in disappointment but nodded. 

"Hey, how would you like to ride on your own?" 

Arya's face lit up in glee. 

"Really?" 

"Just do me a favor and don't run off. I will never hear the end of it." 

_________________________________________

"What the fuck is this?" 

"Exactly what it looks like" Mellina checked to ensure Arya's saddle was secure. 

"She is not fucking ride on her own." 

"Looks like she is." 

"Mellina!"

"Look, she wants to get to the Twins just as much as we want to get her there. And I am exhausted and in pain." Mellina snapped. "She knows she is more likely to survive the trip if she sticks with us. So she is going to ride on her own. We will be right next to her. If she runs off, you can say I told you so all you want " 

"I won't!" Arya insisted and looked to Sandor pleadingly. "Come on, I haven't tried to run this whole time." 

Outnumbered and too tired to fight further, Sandor growled and mounted Stranger roughly. 

"Fucking come on then." He growled, pulling Mellina behind him and rolling his eyes when she leaned against him affectionately. 

"You know," Mellina reminisced "the last time you got all pissed off because I had to ride with you, we ended up getting married."

Chapter Text

Lancel had holed himself away in the Sept of Castle Darry for days at a time. 
It was here that he slept, took his meals, and prayed to the gods for guidance and absolution for his many sins. 

But it wasn't just himself he prayed for. 
He prayed for his cousins, still marred in their unnatural lust for one another. 
He prayed for all the soldiers who fought and perished needlessly in this ongoing war, who followed the orders of their liege lords dutifully and were led to the slaughter as a reward. 

Most recently he found himself praying for an old friend, as their sins were entwined like vines in a rosebush. 
He had forgiven her for leading him into his ultimate sin, as she was simply being led herself. Led by a scheming lioness who took advantage of the love her devoted handmaiden bore for her. 

While he had never confessed his desire, he could only hope that she might forgive him for it, as well for foolishly leading her into tragedy. 
She was out there somewhere, she and her husband. 

Sandor had found a place in his prayers as well, in spite of all. 
He was a killer. 
Ruthless as they came on the battlefield. 
Still, Lancel could not bring himself to believe that was all there was to him

.
He was a man. Perhaps more of a man than most who presumed to call themselves such. 

There was word spreading through the land of a holy man who was making his way across the continent. It was said that he gathers followers from all walks of life to join him in spreading the word of The Seven. Highborn and Lowborn alike, renouncing their worldly possessions and joining up with nothing but the clothes on their back and whatever food they could donate to the cause. 

If he was feeling particularly wistful, Lancel liked to imagine the two figures who dominated his imagination had crossed paths.
Perhaps in her flight, Mellina had stumbled upon a train of devotees trailing behind a wise man, and perhaps they had even exchanged words. Perhaps she sought absolution and he, in his grace and mercy, gave it before sending her back on the path to safety. 
She would be able to settle, live a clean life. Have a dozen children by the man she loves and raised them well in the light of The Seven. 

"My Lord?"
 
Lancel's back ached from being bent so long in prayer and he stifled a groan as he straightened. 
"Yes?" 
"Word from King's Landing, ser."
"What is it?"
"Your cousin Tyrion has married the Lady Sansa Stark and..." The steward paused, swallowing hard.
"Keep going, Ser Lyle."
"Your cousin would like you to inform your men that the bounty on the renegade knight, Sandor Clegane, has been increased. What shall I say, my lord?"
 
Lancel winced at the proclamation and swallowed. "My position now is the same as it was in the beginning. Should any man encounter Sandor Clegane or his lady wife, they are to grant them safe passage through my land and keep all knowledge of their whereabouts to himself." He rose from his knees, which were raw and painful from kneeling. "Any man who disobeys this request shall answer to me directly." 
 
"Yes, My Lord." 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Lord Varys watched the Tyrell girl as she wove her web of charm around the boy king with growing interest. 
She was a lovely young thing of 16, radiant in all she did, and quickly became beloved by all citizens high and low. 
All save the Queen Regent that is. 
Varys hoped this budding romance might temper the king's more malicious and destructive urges, for the good of the realm. 
 
"Lord Varys" a little bird sang in his ear. "News from the Riverlands." 
 
Varys perked up immediately and drew the young boy into the torchlight that dimly illuminated the dungeons. 
 
"Speak." 
 
"The Lady Clegane has been spotted traveling with The Hound once again. They are shepherding the youngest Stark daughter to the Twins."
"Any news on her health?" 
 
"None, I'm afraid." 
It was well enough that she was still alive. 
"Thank you, Cedric. Run to the kitchens and get yourself a decent meal and I will see about finding you somewhere warm to sleep." 
 
The young boy nodded and scrambled off on sickly thin legs that looks as if they might snap under his scant weight. Another victim of the food shortages that have so long plagued the Capitol. 
 
So, despite his boasts, The Mountain had not secured Mellina in the queen's name. 
Her Grace would be most disappointed. 
He could only hope her spies had not received the same news as his.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wagon rattled under down the dirt road loudly. 
 
A 7-foot-tall hog farmer traveling with his wife and child to deliver salted meat for the Frey wedding banquet. 
 
This was never going to work. 
 
But Mellina would never say that out loud. Arya, for the first time in what she assumed was a long time, was showing signs of hope. She fidgeted anxiously and filled the air with nervous chatter that clearly grated on Sandor's nerves, though Mellina tempered his annoyance as well as she could. 
 
Arya and Sandor still bickered night and day like two crows squawking at each other for invading the other's territory, but Mellina was slowly learning to tune it out until it was a dull buzz in the back of her brain. 

By the time they'd reached the banks of the Green Fork, The Twins stood proudly on the other side awaiting them. The bridge stretched from one side of the river to the other and was the safest and easiest way to cross. 

The problem lay with the keepers of the gate, the foul-tempered Freys and their patriarch, the constantly ornery Walder Frey. A man of 90 who consistently kept a wife under the age of 30. 
 
"Don't worry, they're still there." 
 
"I know they're still there." Arya snapped at the hound impatiently. 
 
"You keep looking at them every 5 minutes like you're afraid they'll disappear." 
 
Mellina leaned against the cartwheel, stationed comfortably in the soft grass, and watched their back and forth like one might watch some sort of sport. 
 
"I'm not afraid." 
"Of course you're afraid." Sandor scoffed, "You're almost there, and you're afraid you won't make it. The closer you get, the worse the fear gets. There's no point in trying to hide behind that face, I know fear when I see it." 
 
Arya remained stone-faced, which impressed Mellina greatly. 
The first time Sandor spoke to her like that, she recalled slapping him across the face. 
 
"I knew fear when I saw it in you." The teenager shot back, "You're afraid of fire." 
 
Oh boy, here we go, Mellina internally sighed. She could since Sandor stiffen at this but couldn't help but feel he had it coming. 
 
"When Beric's sword went up in flames, you looked like a scared little girl. And I know why, too." 
 
"Alright." Mellina winced, knowing they were treading into sensitive territory, "Let's all be civil." 
 
"I heard what your brother did to you." Arya ignored Mellina's calls for peace cooly. "Pressed your face to the fire like it was a nice, juicy mutton chop."
 
"Oh, Gods."
 
Sandor sat silently for a second before regaining his usual casual meanness, "That give you some ideas?" 
 
"Might do."  
 
"Go ahead then." Sandor pressed, "You might get away, might even make it there on your own. It's not that far, just across the river. Closest you've been to family since Illyn Payne snipped your Daddy's neck." 
 
Arya's face broke a moment in anger. 
"Someday I'm going to put a sword through your eye and out the back of your skull." 
 
Mellina sucked in a breath and watched the girl flee further from the cart, surely in an effort to put some distance between herself and them. 
 
"Smart-mouthed little shit."  
"Oh no." Mellina stopped him, "I will hear no complaints from the man who keeps picking fights with a child. You're seven feet tall, and you still can't manage to be the bigger person." 

"I thought wives were supposed to support their husbands in all things." 
Mellina did not respond to that. Anything she could possibly say would either be too mean for her to actually mean it or start an argument. 

Marriage had been easy when life was simpler.

 
Before their world turned upside down, Mellina would have had no qualms about being totally honest with Sandor. Castle walls somehow made his flaws more tolerable. And she was sure he felt the same way about her. 

This was not to say she no longer loved him. It was just harder to like him these days. 
 
It was harder to like anything these days. 
 
Mellina found that most days she was filled with a discontented numbness. The hours on horseback seemed to stretch on endlessly, and yet she had little memory of them passing.

Any questions directed to her often went unnoticed and unanswered, not because her mind was focused on other things but because it seemed too tired to focus on anything. Any time not spent ahorse or setting up camp was slept in sleep, which came to her quickly, and was reluctant to leave when it was time to rise. 

This change in demeanor did not go unnoticed. 
Sandor, who knew his wife to be merry and quick-witted, was confused to find her suddenly sullen and absentminded. She rode, ate, and set up camp in utter silence not unlike she had when he first became attached to her. 

But now it seemed to come with no provocation like storm clouds filling clear blue skies with no warning and refusing to let up. 
At first, he thought she was simply being childish, silently stone-walling him due to some unknown slight. It was unlike her, as she was never shy with her displeasure, but what else could it have been?

He then realized he was not being ignored at all. When he spoke to her, she did respond, usually only with a head nod and small one-word answers. If he touched her, she did not shrug him off as she might if angered. 
It was more like she was only half there. 

"The wedding feast is tonight." Sandor grumbled, "We should make it if we don't waste time. Girl," he bellowed to Arya, "get in the damned cart." 

Arya grumbled, shooting daggers through her eyes at him but obeyed. 
Mellina mounted her horse and eyed the great towers on either side of the river. 

Just a few more hours, she thought to herself, trying to rally some emotion be it hope, eagerness, or even joy. 
Instead, all she felt was the same numbing melancholy that settled in the front of her brow and filled her senses with dull nothingness. 

Just a few more hours and their fortunes would change. 
 

Chapter Text

Mellina's throat burned with acid that she struggled to keep down. 

Such blatant and cruel barbarity. 

There was nothing she could say to face it, she could only hold the memory of Rob Stark's corpse held aloft with the head of his direwolf sewn to his shoulders in her mind and try not to vomit. 

They'd made it out of The Twins by the skin of their teeth, and Sandor rode as hard as he could to get them out of harm's way. 

Arya. Oh, poor little Arya. 

She'd fought them tooth and nail trying to reach the castle despite the carnage around them. There was no reasoning with her and when she proved too strong to hold, Sandor had no other choice but to knock her unconscious. 

Mellina was reminded of another time when a party of Starks was ambushed, but the coup of Kings Landing was nothing compared to this. 

"Let me go!" Arya wailed, even as they were miles from the fighting. They dismounted and Arya immediately began to rush back the way they came until Sandor yanked her back by the arm. "Let me go! I need to go back! I need-!" 

"If you go back there, you will be slaughtered just like the rest of them!" Sandor bellowed. "Is that what you want? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" 

"No! They're not! They can't be!" Arya insisted, despite seeing her brother's body paraded through the castle gates. "We need to go back!" 

"You're either stupider than I thought or you've lost your mind!" Sandor growled, "They're dead, girl, all of them! And there's nothing you can do to change that." 

After a moment, Arya stopped fighting. Her shoulders went limp and her knees buckled under her. 

"Arya." Mellina breathed, approaching carefully. "I'm so sorry." 

"It's not fair!" Arya sobbed and Mellina's heart sank. "I was so close, it's not fair!"

"It's not, you're right." Mellina agreed, motioning for Sandor to drop Arya's arm. As he did the small girl almost collapsed under her own weight. Mellina grabbed her shoulder and knelt to her level. 

"It's not fair. None of this is." Mellina insisted. "And you have every right to be angry, and sad, and frustrated. But this is not the end, you still have a chance for safety." 

"I don't want it!" Arya's face twisted in despair. "I want my mother, and my father, and my brothers! I want Sansa and I want to go home!" 

"Oh, sweet girl." Mellina sighed and pulled her close. Arya allowed herself to be held and leaned against the woman's shoulder limply. 

Mellina could say nothing else. What could she possibly say? 

Her best chance to ever see her family again had just gone up in flames right in front of her. 

Nothing anyone could say or do could console her, nor should it. 

"Set up here for the night," Mellina said softly, cradling Arya's head to her shoulder as she wept. 

"We should ride further to-" 

"No." She said firmly. "We will rest here. Tomorrow we'll ride for the Eryie, Lysa Arryn is our next best bet." 

Sandor knew it was no use arguing. 

They didn't bother with a fire, instead, they just laid out a bed roll for Arya, whose exhaustion had overtaken her. 

Mellina leaned again a log and clutched at her rolling stomach. 

Keep it together, she told herself. You keep your shit together, this is no time to get hysterical. 

"Fucking animals" 

Sandor scoffed next to her. 

"You're too generous. Animals only kill to survive. That was...." 

He trailed off into the night and Mellina nodded. 

"Yeah." 

Neither of them slept, nor did they speak. 

Each time Mellina closed her eyes, she saw the carnage they left behind them and it shook her to her core. 

When the sun rose, they set back out. This time east towards the mountainous Vale. 

Arya, for once, had neither words nor arguments for either of them. She rode in silence upon Stranger, her eyes blank and pale. 

The next evening they were at the edge of Frey lands and could finally take a breath without fearing being discovered. 

Dusk was quickly approaching and Mellina could see firelight ahead of them. Around it, she could hear the voices of men laughing merrily, but their words were hard to make out. 

Arya's eyes were on the in an instant, clearly hearing what Mellina could not. Before anyone could snatch her back, Arya slid off the horse and onto the ground. 

Mellina's chest tightened as she dismounted quickly and tried to pull her back before she was noticed. 

It was too late, Arya was by their fireside with sad eyes and a pouty face. 

"Please, we're hungry." 

"Does fuck off mean something different where you're from?" The Frey soldier snapped before looking past Arya with a cruel smile.

 "That your mummy back there?" He sneered, "Why don't you tell her we might have some food to spare if she comes over here and sits on my-" 

The next words were lost in a guttural choke as blood poured from the man's throat. He tried to stop the flow with his hands but was soon limp on the ground, his face buried in the dirt. 

"Shit!" Mellina swore, fumbling for her blade and grabbing the back of Arya's tunic to pull her out of the fray. Another man lunged for her and nearly had Mellina by the throat but was met with a dagger through the eye.

Sandor cut the 3 remaining men down swiftly and looked around as fine the sound of melee would beckon more men to their location. 

When it was clear no one was coming, he relaxed. 

 "That the first man you killed, girl?" He grunted, sheathing his sword. 

"The first man" Arya nodded. 

"Where on earth did you get a dagger?" Mellina panted, looking down at the stark red blood splatters against her pink dress. 

"Him" Arya handed to knife back to Sandor, whose hand flew to the spot on his felt the knife was stolen from 

Yanking the blood-stained weapon back Sandor growled. "The next time you plan on doing something like that, warn me first!"

Arya nodded in agreement before glancing at Mellina. "You should steal their clothes." 

"I'm sorry?"

"People are going to notice you looking like that, especially covered in blood." 

Mellina sighed but nodded. 

It wasn't a bad idea. 

Men's clothing did nothing to hide her body as it did Arya's, but a woolen shirt and trousers were a lot warmer and easier to move in. 

The trousers were tight around her hips and thighs, but snug as they were it would half to do for now. 

The largest man's cloak fit over her shoulders like a blanket and was sufficient in obscuring her whole body if need be. 

"This is so gruesome." She muttered, pulling a boot too large for her off a dead man's foot.

"They aren't using them anymore." Arya shrugged. "What should you do with the dress? Leave it?" 

"I'll strip it down for bandages." Mellina shook her head. "Waste not want not."

"That's what my Septa used to say" Arya sniffed as the moved closer to the still burning fire. The men had caught 3 rabbits and had cooked 2 of them. 

The smell of meat made Mellina's mouth water and she gladly took what was offered. 

"Should we be concerned, do you think?" Mellina whispered after Arya had gone to sleep. "I mean it sort of came out of nowhere."

"We all work out our shit in our own ways" Sandor shrugged. 

"I guess that's true." Mellina nodded. "If it had been you, I'd probably do the same."

"Really?" 

"Of course, what sort of question is that?" Mellina looked at him incredulously. "Gods, I don't even want to think about it"

"Did you check their packs?" 

"No. Good call." Mellins nodded, collecting the 4 packs left around the fire and rummaging through. 

There was a bit of money in each and some dried rations. Any weapons had been on their bodies and collected already. 

In the fourth pack, Mellina felt a crumbled scrap of paper at the bottom. It was torn at the edges but the ink was still fresh. 

"It's a royal notice " She furrowed her brow in confusion as she smoothed out the wrinkles and leaned closer to the fire to read. 

"Fuck" Mellina breathed. "Oh, this is not good."

"What is it?" 

"Your bounty has been raised." Mellina passed him the notice. "They must have sent these out to every region in the realm." 

 "250,000 dragons and a knighthood." Sandor whistled. "Shit, I'd turn myself in for that kind of money." 

"Don't even joke about that." Mellina snapped. "That hateful bitch, if the Gods were good she'd have a revelation of her own monstrousness and throw herself from the highest tower of the keep." 

Sandor shook his head knowingly but didn't say anything. 

No one spoke with that much hatred for someone if they weren't still hung up on them. At least partially. 

A bad habit was hard to quit. 

"Try to get some sleep." He grumbled. "I'll take the first watch." 

"You sure?" 

Sandor didn't answer but pulled her head down into his lap. His warmth radiated off him and soothed her into an uneasy half-sleep.

Like a guard dog snoozing just enough to rest her body, but constantly aware of the little sounds around them. 

Every snapping twig was a potential attacker. 

It took hours for her body to finally give out and go limp and heavy against his leg. 

Sandor eventually fell into a light sleep as well, hand still on the hilt of his blade.

Around them, the forest's nocturnal life rose and surrounded them with small noises, each one teasing to with the possibility of danger. 

Chapter Text

"Food's running low. Maybe 2 days' worth if we stretch it." Mellina went over their supplies for a second and then a third time. "We'll either have to stop to hunt or find some other way to find more food after that." 

"These lands aren't exactly overflowing with game," Sandor grunted. 
The last week had taken a truly dangerous turn. With the Starks gone, Lannister men flooded in like a tempest, filling every tavern and inn for miles. 

They burned crops and slaughtered women and children like they slaughtered livestock, and it seemed that every time they attempted to follow a marked road, red leather armor was there to meet them. 

They'd gotten lucky so far, in that they hadn't been recognized and they weren't interesting enough to draw attention. 
At least, not as interesting as looting and burning villages. 

They came upon one village that was just recovering from an attack and had begun to collect their dead from the streets. 

Mellina's grip on Arya tightened as they passed a mother weeping over the bodies of her young sons, neither of them could have been over the age of 10. 

"Why are they attacking the small folk? They already won." Arya hissed under her breath and Mellina shook her head disapprovingly. 

"They call it keeping the King's peace, but in truth they're vultures. They're flocking to pick over the lands that no longer have the protection of their noble families. Most of them have sent their knights off to war for one king or another, and those who sided with the Lannisters certainly aren't going to stop them." 

Her voice was laced with venom and her eyes were full of suspicion as she urged the horse forward faster. 

Mellina had taken to insisting that Arya is within arm's reach of either Sandor or herself at all times. 

Not because she didn't trust Arya to stay with them, but because she could feel the eyes of men landing and leering on them both. Arya wanted desperately to ride on her own as she had on the way to The Twins, but Mellina could not help but imagine every scenario in which the poor girl was spirited away by some horrible man with the worst intentions. 
 
Ayra was just a child, and Mellina doubted her life in The North had granted her the knowledge of evil men that growing up in the slums of Kings Landing had given Mellina. 

She didn't want to explain it to her, but she knew that eventually Arya would ask. One day she simply had no choice but to take Arya out of earshot of Sandor and explain. 

"I know you think it's because I don't trust you but that's not it." she insisted. "It's because I can't trust any man that passed us on the road, and neither can you. I know growing up you were kept protected in Winterfell, but out here it is different. That is why I keep close to Sandor, and you keep close to either him or me. There is safety in numbers, do you understand?" 

Arya nodded seriously and no longer asked to ride on her own.

After a few days, they ran out of food. They had stretched it as far as they could, Mellina even going days without more than a bite to keep her going so that Arya and Sandor had enough to remain alert. 

Eventually, they found an inn that wasn't burnt to the ground, but in front of that inn sat 5 horses. 

"We shouldn't risk it." Mellina shook her head, "Not with the bounty on your head being raised. Men would be willing to get themselves killed for a shot at that much money." 

"Why do you have a bounty on your head?" Arya looked at him in confusion and Sandor sputtered. 
"That is a very long story." 

"If we don't stop, we'll risk starving between here and whatever is left standing next." Arya insisted before glancing at Mellina "And you haven't eaten in 4 days." 

"5 horses mean at least 5 men." Sandor shook his head, "If things go sour, on a good day I could take them. But 2 days without food, 5 men is more than I feel like killing on an empty stomach." 

Before long, several of the men emerged from the tavern and Mellina's eyes widened. 
She knew that man, the short bald one. He was one of Gregor's men at Harrenhal. 
And he knew her, and he knew that she was supposed to be in King's Landing. 
And in all likelihood, he knew what she'd done to survive that wretched place. 

"I can't go in there." she shook her head. "That man, he knows men. He knows who I am." 

"That's Polivar." Arya nodded, "he was there when I was trapped in Harrenhal. He killed Lommy." 

"What the fuck's a Lommy?" 

"He was my friend." Arya peered further into the brush and frowned. "he's still got my sword! He's got Needle!" 

"Oh of course you named your sword."

"Oh, of course, you named your sword." Sandor scoffed and Arya growled defensively. 
"Lots of people name their swords." 

"Lots of cunts." 

Head stuck in a fog; Mellina felt movement by her but didn't register it was Arya before Sandor rushed after her. She followed him on instinct more than anything. 

"Get the fuck back here!"

"He killed my friend!"

"I don't care if he ATE your friend, we are not-" 

Before he could finish, the door of the inn opened once more, and a Lannister soldier laid eyes on all three of them. 
Well, there goes any hope of fleeing. 

Mellina resolved that in this instance it was best for her to speak as little as possible and keep her focus on protecting Arya. 

Sandor had to duck to enter and was tailed closely by his wife and hostage, both of whom scanned the inn and found it less than safe. 
5 Lannister men, plus the barkeep and his poor daughter who had been unlucky enough to catch the attentions of the reeving soldiers. 

"Stay close and keep your mouth shut," Mellina muttered to Arya, "Remember, you are our daughter and you're ten." 

"Why ten?"

"Thirteen is nearly a woman, ten is still a child. To some men, it doesn't make a difference but to some it does and it's best to be on the safe side."

They mae their way to the furthest table from the soldiers, but all the same, they drew attention. Once they were sat, most of the men turned their attention back to the poor girl they'd cornered, but one, that horrible on that knew her face, he did not look away from that. 

"I know you." He said suddenly, drawing the attention of his men. 
Mellina tensed and felt Arya move for Sandor's sword as she herself made for the knife in her waistband. 

"You're The Hound!"

Oh, thank the Gods. 

"Pour our new friend some ale." Pollivar insisted, making his way over to them in a friendly manner. 
Mellina relaxed slightly, but still kept her arm across Arya's stomach under the table as if that could block her from attack.
 
"What brings you so far North?" 

Sandor swallowed but kept a straight face. "I could ask the same of you. What are you lot doing up here?" 

"Just keeping the King's Peace." Polliver nodded. 

"No need, the war is over," Sandor grunted, his hand sinking below the table and across Mellina's stomach protectively. 

"So I've heard, Stannis defeated at the Blackwater, Rod Stark dead at The Twins, and where am I for all of it? Stuck with your brother." Polliver realized his fumble quickly and attempted to recover. "No offense, of course." 

"None taken."

"He's good, The Mountain is. The best at what he does, but torture, torture, torture. You take the hammer to so many men, you start to feel like a carpenter. Drain's the fun right out of it, really. And what's life without a little fun." 
Polliver's eyes flickered to Mellina and Arya and smiled a little, "Not that I need to tell you that." 

"Mind yourself," Sandor said testily, "That's my wife and child you're looking at, not some common whore and her runt." 

"Of course, once again no offence intended." Pollivar backtracked quicker than a mule on a cliff. "You know what? You should ride with us!" 

The bald man looked over his shoulder at the inn keep with a grin. "His kind, they're always hiding something somewhere. Gold, Silver, more daughters. Always something if you know how to make them talk. And there's plenty of him between here and Kings Landing, you could do well for you and yours." 
 
Sandor looked at Mellina for a moment before sighing. "We're not going to King's Landing." 

"Think about it!" Pollivar insisted, "We can do whatever we like, wherever we go! We were the King's colors, no one stands in his way now." 

Please don't say it. Mellina closed her eyes and prayed. Oh Gods, please don't let him say it. 

"Fuck the King." 

Son of a Bitch. 
Mellina gripped Arya's tunic and braced her feet. 

"I heard Joffrey's dog had tucked tail and ran, but I didn't want to believe it," Pollivar said grimly. "But here you are." 

"Here I am," Sandor confirmed. "Now bring me one of those chickens." 

Mother's Mercy, we are going to die. Mellina thought, sending up a quick prayer to whoever might be listening. 

"You got money to pay for it?"
"Did you play for it?" 

Polliver chuckled darkly, "No, but we're King's men. So, have you got any money?"

"Not a penny. I'll still take that chicken." 

Please Sandor just shut the fuck up, you were doing so well. Mellina's palms went clammy as she gripped the hilt of her dagger tightly. 

"Tell you what," Pollivar said diplomatically. "We'll trade you, one of our little chickens for one of yours." 

Mellina stiffened and moved to physically put herself between Pollivar and Arya, eyes flashing with warning, "Don't you dare." 

"I see your wife's volunteered. She's a looker too, Lowell back there likes them a bit broken in, so that won't be a problem." 

Sandor stared at Pollivar with an unreadable expression, as one might stare at a mouse or a roach. 

"You're a talker," He said finally, "Listening to talkers, makes me thirsty, and hungry. I think we'll take two chickens." 

Pollivar looked back at his men who had been following the exchange with interest. Each sensed the tension building and had their hands on their weapons. 

"You don't seem to understand the situation." 

Sandor contained a scoff, "I understand that if any more words come pouring out of your cunt mouth, I am going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room." 

Mellina had accepted this is where they would die at this point and prayed that the Mother shows her and Arya mercy. 
The soldier could throw Sandor in the pit for all she cared at this point, since he decided he couldn't keep his big mouth shut for the first time in his life. 

"You lived your life for the King and you're going to die for some chickens?"

"Someone is." 

There was a beat of silence before fighting broke loose. 

Arya was quick to find herself a corner to shelter in, while Sandor took point. 
Mellina set herself to defense, dagger drawn and ready to parry off whatever blows she could. 
However, most of the attention was focused on Sandor, who batted off the attackers as well as he could before the two of them decided there was strength in numbers and went for him together. 

"Fuck" Mellina swallowed as Sandor's head hit the ground. She turned to Arya and nodded, "You stay right there!" 

Focusing their attentions on Sandor meant both of their backs were wide open for attack a fact that Mellina took advantage of by driving her blade into the larger one's back. 

He screamed and whipped around on her only to catch a swing to his chest. 
He flailed in surprise and lunged at her. Mellina tried to dodge him, but his fist found her hair and dragged her to the ground. 

"Stupid bitch!" he swore, trying to get at her throat with his sword thrown to the side. Mellina used his stupidity in disarming himself against him and ran her knife through his stomach over and over again until he was limp on top of her and she felt her stomach soaked with his blood. 

With one down, Sandor was able to take down the other quickly. 
This just left Pollivar, a wounded man, and a larger bald man with a bushlike beard. 

The wounded man made for Mellina and took her by surprise. His weight collided with hers, knocking her to the ground and her dagger out of her hand. His fingers found her eyes and he attempted to gouge them with his thumbs until she was screaming and half-blind with pain. 

Before she could feel the popping of her eyeballs in her skull, something very suddenly stuck the man and send him tumbling off of her. She heard him scream and heard the wet sound of flesh being punctured as she clutched at her eyes. She could see nothing but light and spots dancing in her vision. The pain was awful, but not enough to freeze her, as she reached out until she felt the handle of her dagger and gripped it. 

After a few minutes, the sounds of fighting died and her vision began to slowly return, though still blurry around the edges and painful.

"Fuck." She grunted, "Are they dead?"

"Yes, they're dead." she could hear Sandor next to her, but his leg was more of a grey mass than a limb. His hand brushed her head and she reached for it. 

"My eyes, that son of a bitch." she struggled to her feet.
 
"Can you see?"

"Barely," she confessed, "But I'm sure it'll fix itself, the eyes' still there, right?" 

"Let me see." 

 Mellina struggled to peel her eyes open and when she did, she could only see the shadow in the shape of her husband. 

"They're still there, but there's some bleeding. You'll be fine." He nodded, turning to Arya, "Good news for you, girl. You're riding on your own again. Try not to seem too cheerful about it." 

Arya pressed some chicken and a roll of hard bread into Mellina's hand to eat before they moved out. 

Unable to literally see the forest through the trees, Mellina was regulated to behind Sandor, while Arya got to enjoy a small taste of freedom.

Though barely able to see him, Mellina could feel the familiar curves of Sandor's body and despite the circumstances, it gave her a great deal of comfort. 
 

Chapter Text

Mellina's sight returned after a day or two, though both her eyes had been blackened and were now ringed with purple. 

"I look like you beat me." 
"Good, maybe it'll ward people off talking to us." 

They stopped by a stream to tend the horses and Arya took her time taking in the landscape around her. 
"Where are we?" she asked curiously. 

"Near Fairmarket I think." Mellina shrugged, washing her hands and face in the water. 

"You think? You don't have a map."
"In all the time we've been together have you seen us look at a map?"
"....No."
"There's your answer." 

"But you're sure we're going the right way?"

"Beleive me, girl. We want to get you there as badly as you do." Sandor knelt to fill a bucket of water for the horses. "Drop you off, get our gold, and be on our way." 

"On your way where?" Arya asked, picking at a bundle of wild radishes she's foraged. 

"Why do you need to know?"

The child shrugged silently and Sandor thought a moment. 

"Might book passage across the Narrow Sea." he sniffed, "Find work as a sellsword maybe." 

"I'd like to see Braavos one day." 

"Why Braavos?"

"I have friends there." 

Mellina blinked in confusion at the girl, "How do you have friends in Braavos?" 

Before Arya could answer, a cart came upon them. 
They fell silent as the driver, an older man, stopped on the bridge above them. 
"Sever blessings to you." he nodded to them with a smile. 

"And to you." Mellina nodded, glancing at Sandor anxiously and motioning for Arya to come closer. 

"What do you want?" Sandor grumbled and the farmer scoffed. 

"What do I want? This is my land." he chuckled, 

"When I'm standing on it, it's my land." 

"Husband, please." Mellina rebuffed him before nodding back to the farmer. "I'm sorry. We were just watering the horses, we'll be on our way."

 "Forgive my father, he was wounded fighting in the war." Arya lied skillfully. "Our cottage was burned down by brigands while he was away, Mother and I barely escape with our lives...He's never been the same." 

The farmer looked to Arya, then to the bruised and battered Mellina, "What house did your husband fight for?"

Mellina ran the houses through her head quickly and took a gamble. "The Tullys of Riverrun." 

His face went from stone to sympathetic almost instantly. 
"There's a storm coming." he informed them, "You'll be wanting a roof over your heads, there's fresh hay in the barn, and Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mum used to." He looked past Mellina to Sandor and nodded, "It isn't much, but any man who bled for House Tully is welcome to it." 

Sandor was reluctant and sullen the whole way, but Mellina wasn't willing to brave a storm with Arya. 
"It's just one night," she assured him. "Just let me do the talking. You can stand there and look scary, you're good at that." 

"Fine," he hissed, still not satisfied. "But I see one sign of trouble, we are out of there."

"Absolutely." 

The farm was large for a peasant but comparatively still tiny. Mellina kept watch over Arya while Sandor handled the horses, and the two young girls hit it off almost immediately. 

The two families gathered for food and when the farmer went into a prayer, Mellina bowed her head dutifully. 

As he went over the Gods, Sandor was growing impatient and muttered under his breath. 

"Father!" Arya scolded him as Mellina tensed and sunk her nails into his hand. 

She stared at him with large, impatient eyes that screamed, 'Please please please do not make this difficult.'

The dinner didn't get much better from there and Mellina flashed the farmer sympathetic eyes and pulled him aside to apologize after. 

"It's quite alright." he assured her, "War can bring out the worst in people." 

He looked over his shoulder and looked at her meaningfully, "If you and your daughter....if you need help I mean." 

Mellina blinked in confusion before her hand went to her eyes, "Oh! No, you misunderstand. He didn't do this. He's boorish and he lacks social graces, but my husband would never lay a hand on me, I can promise you that."

 She smiled at him, "You've been so kind to us, I wish we could repay you." 

"Your husband and I discussed staying through the season, just until the violence dies down. He may not have a way with words, but one look at him and any raiders would go running." 

"Did you?" She nodded, making a mental note to bring this up later. "How interesting." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mellina's heart was pounding in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear her husband bellowing behind her. 

Arya strumbled behind her, struggling to keep up with her great strides as she pushed the girl up onto the gelding before mounting the steed herself and taking off in the first direction she set her eyes on. 

"Where are we going?" Arya looked behind them, pale-faced and unsure how to feel about her current situation. 

"I'm taking you to your aunt, same as before." 

"Without him?"

"Yes." 

She could hear Stranger's hooves behind her but did not spur the gelding to go faster. 

If he wanted her to stop, he'd have to tear her off this horse himself. 

Arya held onto her tightly and watched as Stranger drew nearer and nearer. 

Sandor was yelling something Mellina either ignored or couldn't hear as they reached the road and began heading east once more. 

"Get off the fucking horse, Mellina."

"Arya, if that brigand lays a hand on this horse, you have full permission to take the knife from my hip and stab him" Mellina informed her and Arya thought about it for a moment before reaching for Mellina's knife. 

Maybe she would be crossing another name off her list. 

"I'm not fucking playing this game with you, woman. Get off the damned horse!" 

"Should we stop?" Arya whispered and Mellina shook her head stubbornly. 

"No, maybe we'll get lucky and some bounty hunter will make me a widow." 
She rode for miles, ignoring every plea that come from his mouth until he began to circle them, cutting them off at every turn. 

"Go. Away." Mellina barked at him, trying to calm the gelding as it stomped its feet and reared up. 

"Fuck's sake." Sandor finally managed to grab the horse's harness and force them to stop, though he very nearly fell off his own horse doing so. "What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"Me?" Mellina gawked at him, "I'm sorry, I'm not the one robbing innocent smallfolk, now am I?"

"I know-"

"I know what? Not you, obviously" she sneered at him in disgust. "I remember at one point having a husband who, while foul-tempered, was a  halfway decent man. But apparently, I left him behind somewhere, because I don't see him now!" 

Arya took this opportunity to slide off the gelding and sat on a large rock as her guardians had it out.  She'd never seen a married couple fight like this before. 

"Mellina, will you get off the fucking horse?"

"No." 

Sandor glared at her for a second before glancing at Arya with a sigh. 
"Don't make me do this in front of the kid."

"Oh, fuck you. Leave her out of this- Sandor!" Mellina screamed as he pulled her from the horse by her waist. The gelding whined and stopped its feet as Mellina struggled against her husband, eventually wriggling out of his grasp. 

Arya's eyes widened as Mellina scrambled away from him and stared with cold, cruel eyes. 

"You fucking animal."

"You need to calm down." 

"You know, I already had to deal with one Clegane brother who robbed innocent people, I am not dealing with a second."

Sandor's face twisted, "Don't you dare compare me to him!"

"Or what, you're gonna put your hands on me like he did?" She challenged, stepping forward as if daring him to do it. To grab her, or slap her, or throw her to the ground. "Go on, you might as well. Take that next step, do it." 

Sandor fell silent, face twisted in rage but unable to say anything back. 
Mellina's face was stone, eyebrows raised as she assessed him darkly and found him wanting. 

"You know, the farmer had it right. War brings out the worst in people." she sniffed and gathered her composure. "And I have no intention of sticking around and watching you become more and more like him. I won't do it." 

She took a shaky breath and looked to Arya grimly, "Come on, let's get you to your aunt's." 

She began to talk across the footbridge and Arya stared at Sandor a moment before following. 

Sandor watched her, trying to assess if she was serious or not but when she didn't turn around his stomach dropped. 

"Mellina!" 

She didn't answer and kept moving forward down the road on foot. 

"Fucking-" he growled and mounted Stranger, bringing the horse to a slow canter behind them. "Mellina." 

"Just ignore him." She muttered under her breath, more as a reminder to herself than instructions to Arya. "Keep moving." 

"Are we really going to walk all the way there?"

"You can ride with him if you like." Mellina nodded, "You'll get there faster and probably be safer in the long run." 

Arya considered this, conflicted. 

"Go." Mellina sighed, smiling at her to let her know it was okay. "Our fight is not yours, just focus on getting home." 

Reluctantly, Arya returned to Sandor's side and mounted the gelding. 

Mellina, on the other hand, could not be moved. 

Arya was almost impressed with her determination. She held out for hours and probably would have gone for longer fueled only by spite if Sandor hadn't decided they would set up camp early. 

"Mellina, stop." 

"You stop, I'll go as far as I like." She informed him. 

Sandor, nearing the end of his patience, growled in frustration. Dismounting, he thrust the reigns into Arya's hand and stormed after his wife. 

"I have just about had it with you, woman." He snatched her and ignore her screams of protest as he threw her over one shoulder and walked back to Arya. 

"Look sharp, girl," he muttered, directing her to move off the road and down closer to the riverbed. 

"Hand me that rope, will you." 

Arya obeyed, mostly out of curiosity, and watched as The Hound pinned Mellina to the ground and tightly secured first her calves, then her wrists and forearms in thick rope. 

She screamed and cursed his name the entire time, pounding her firsts on his arms and back and attempting to bite him. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you." She raged. "Let me go!"

"Not until you can be trusted not to act like a madwoman." 

"Oh, fuck you." 

"Have it your way." 

Sandor ignored her for the most part for the rest of the evening. 
Arya at one point went to sit behind her, leaning up against the rocks. 

"Is this what all marriages are like?"

Mellina scoffed at this, "I sincerely hope not." 

"Were you really going to leave?"

"Probably" she confessed, "Though, I like to think if I really meant it, I would have been smart enough to at least run off the road." 

"No conspiring, you two." 

Night fell quickly and when Arya fell asleep, Sandor finally settled next to his bound wife, face grim in the firelight. 

"If I untie you, are you going to try and run off again?"

"Maybe." 

"Gods." he breathed, "When did you get so unhinged?"

"Right around the time you started robbing poor farmers, I suspect." 

"Mellina, you need to let that go. Those people won't survive the Winter anyway, they were-"

"They were what?" she cut him off with a blazing gaze, "They were weak? Is that what you were about to say? That's funny because I seem to recall the husband I married putting his life on the line more than once for people you'd call weak." 

"That man died on the edge of The Blackwater." 

"Shame." She sniffed.

"There's plenty worse than me out there,"

"That's no excuse." she shook her head. "That is a shit excuse. So what, you're okay with being an awful person as long as there is someone worse than you out there? What happens when you're neck in neck with-"

"Do not." Sandor cut her off, "Say his fucking name. Don't do it."

"Why, afraid you might find some similarities?" 

"I am not my brother," He said firmly, "Not ever."

"No, you're right." Mellina scoffed, looking away from him with a bitter smile. "No you may have robbed a kind old man and his young daughter, you may be holding me against my will, tied up in the dark. But hey, you haven't raped me yet, so you've still got a leg up on Gregor. Congratulations." 

She could feel Sandor's eyes boring into her and her stomach tightened. 
She had wanted to hurt him. 
And she succeeded.  

"Mellina."

"Go to sleep, Sandor," she said shortly, staring into the campfire intently if only to avoid looking at him.
 "Just fucking go to sleep."
 

Chapter Text

Mellina did not sleep that night. 

When the sun rose, Sandor released her from her bindings, and she did not thank him. 

She did not speak a word to him, or Arya. 

The first thing she did was walk to the river's edge and wash her face and neck. The cold soothed her and for a moment she pictured herself floating downstream with the current. 

It would take her to the sea, as all rivers did, and she would be washed out by the tides. Perhaps even sucked under the surface, dragged down by the weight of the water in her clothes, and allowed to float weightlessly. 

"Mellina?"

She looked to the side and found Arya standing over her, a curious look in her eyes. 

"Are you alright?"

Mellina rose from her knees and gave Arya a small, sad smile. To Arya's surprise, she even ruffled her short brown hair and nodded before jerking her head back to Sandor. 

"You're coming with us, right?" Arya pressed. "You said you promised my mother you'd look after me."

Mellina looked to Sandor, who stood watching them on the ridge. His face was unreadable and stony. 

Mellina nodded with a small sigh, putting her hand on Arya's back and walking them back to the campsite. 

"How is she then?" Sandor muttered when Mellina was out of earshot, tending the horses.

"I'm not sure." Arya whispered, "She didn't say anything. But she's coming with us."

"Did she say that?"

"No, she nodded when I asked." 

Sandor huffed in frustration. 

"Why won't she talk?"

"This just happens sometimes; I don't know why. You'll get used to it." 

To give some space between the husband and wife, Arya relinquished the gelding to Mellina and rode with Sandor. 

The ride east was silent. Sandor attempted glances at his wife, but she kept her dark eyes trained ahead, her face a mask of numb melancholy.  

When they stopped to water the horses, she did so wordlessly and focused entirely on the task at hand. 
Arya found this unnerving. 

It wasn't the silent treatment that Sansa used when she was mad at someone. That silence was deliberate, and everyone who encountered it knew it was only happening because she was in a foul mood. 

Mellina's silence was not antagonistic. If someone spoke to her, she looked them in the face and appeared to be listening. If it was a yes or no question, she'd even answer. 

She just...wouldn't speak. 

Eventually, Sandor couldn't stand it anymore and informed Arya she was being trusted to be on her own for a few minutes. 

"Why?"

"The adults need to talk, just fuck off for a bit alright?" 

"Good luck talking now," Arya muttered under her breath but gathered her sword to get some practice in while Sandor found his wife by the horses. 

"Mellina." 

She looked at him meaningfully, showing she was listening. 

"Can we talk? Or try to, anyway?" 

She shrugged but nodded, motioning for them to sit on the rocky ridge over the valley Arya occupied herself in. 

"I know you're still angry." he started, "And I understand why. I'm not proud of what happened, but you need to understand everything I do I do for us." 

She didn't respond to this, watching Arya intently until Sandor grabbed her elbow. 

"Hey. You haven't gone quiet since-" he cut off, glancing down to make sure Arya was still out of earshot. 

Mellina's hand instinctively went to her abdomen, and she shook her head, looking down and away from him. Wrenching her elbow from his grasp, she stood and went back to the horses. Sandor followed her closely, unwilling to let the subject die without a fight. 

"This isn't going to go away just because you refuse to talk about it." He insisted, "And it's a long fucking ride to the Eyrie, so unless you intend to go mute the entire time, we will eventually have to sort this out. Girl!"

He called over the ridge, and Arya looked up with a cheeky grin. 

"Did you have a productive conversation?" she yelled back from the valley and chuckled when he sneered and waved her off. 
After a few more days, they came upon the remains of a village that was still smoldering from a raiding party. 

"Might have food." Sandor pondered. 

"Might have soldiers." Arya countered. 

Mellina dismounted wordlessly and made for the ruins, hand on her knife as she went. 
 Carts were overturned and their contents smashed to bits. The ashes of 2 dozen huts sat among scorched wooden frames that were mostly collapsed if not completely incinerated. All that remained were the stone structures, and even they were all roofless. 

The rotting corpses of livestock were starting to putrefy the air and Mellina covered her nose as she passed.

"Hello?"

She froze and turned. 

A man sat propped against an overturned cart and he gazed at her with a tired expression. 
Looking around to make sure no one was lying in wait; she approached the man while Arya and Sandor came from behind. 

She knelt by him and examined the wound in his stomach. Blood had soaked his clothes from his chest to his hips and Mellina tried not to look too grim, in case the man was not already aware that wound was almost certainly fatal. 

"You shouldn't be sitting out here like this," Arya said smartly and the man chuckled. 
"Where's else to sit?" he grunted, wincing in pain, "Tried to walk back to my hut, but it hurt too much. Then I remembered they burned down my hut."

"Who's they?"

The man glanced up at Sandor and shrugged, "I've stopped asking." 

Mellina looked up at Sandor with a grim expression and shook her head. 

"That wound's not going to get better."

"Probably not." the man nodded in agreement. 

"Haven't you had enough?" 

"Of what?"

Mellina looked into the man's face, wordlessly saying what they all were thinking.
"I know." He chuckled again. "Time to go. Take matters into my own hands. I've thought about it." 

Arya knelt by Mellina, "Then why go on?" 

"Habit."

"Nothing could be worse than this." the young girl insisted, and the old man looked upon her with tired, longsuffering eyes. 
"Maybe nothing is worse than this." 

"Nothing isn't better or worse than anything." Arya countered, confident in her words. "Nothing is just nothing." 

The man blinked at her before leaning back further against the cart, cringing in pain. 
"Who are you?"

"I'm Arya." she informed him, "Arya Stark."

"You two her parents then?"

Mellina shook her head honestly and Sandor confirmed, "Her captors, taking her to her aunt for ransom." 

The old man nodded, "A fair exchange that is. I always held to the notion of fair exchange in all my dealings. You give me and I give you, balance." He shook his head, world-worn and tired. "No balance anymore. Can I have a drink?"

He nodded to Mellina's canteen. 

"Dying is thirsty work." 

Mellina nodded and raised the canteen to his lips, allowing him to drink as much as he needed. 
He nodded his thanks to her and sighed. 
"Wish it were wine." 

Sandor shrugged, his knife out but well hidden. 
"So do I" 

The old man didn't even realize the blade was in his heart until he looked down at it and then at Sandor on the other end. He granted the large man a smile, grateful smile before he passed quickly. 

Mellina closed the man's eyes so flies wouldn't get to them and rose, tucking her canteen back to her hip. 

"That's where the heart is." Sandor informed Arya, "That's how you kill a man." 

Mellina scrambled back and swung her arm in front of Arya protectively as, suddenly, a man lunged at them from the shadows. 

He'd secured a grip on Sandor from the back, taking him by surprise. With a cry of pain, Sandor swung the man over his shoulder, slamming him to the ground and immediately snapping the man's neck. 

Grasping at the wound at his neck, Sandor turned to find a large, potbellied man behind him. 

"The fuck are you doing?" he bellowed, examining the blood on his hand when he pulled it away. 

Mellina drew her knife as the child drew her sword. 

"There's a price on your head." 

"So, I've heard. The King raise the price again?"

"The king is dead." 

Mellina blinked in surprise as Arya's face broke into a smile. 

"He drank poison wine at his own wedding." 

"You were Yoren's prisoner when we were going to the wall," Arya spoke up, slipping past Mellina and looking at the piggish man inquisitively. 
"You said you were going to fuck me bloody with a stick." 

Mellina glared at the man in disgust and Sandor scoffed. 

"This day really isn't going how you planned, is it? He on your little list, girl?" 

Arya shook her head. "Can't be. I don't know his name."

"You, what's your name?" 

The man looked between them in confusion. "Rouge." 

"Thank you." 

The man was dead before he hit the ground, Needle having punctured right through his heart and retracted just as quickly. 

Sandor watched the man fall silently before nodding to Arya. 

"You're learning." 

When they were out of the wreckage and away from any more would-be bounty hunters, Mellina nearly pounced on Sandor before he could mount his horse. 

"For fuck's sake woman!"

"She wants to look at the wound," Arya informed him, watching as Mellina's clever fingers unstrapped his plate and peeled it off. 

Sandor reluctantly allowed his wife to fuss over him, furiously trying to clean the bite mark with what water was left in her canteen and put pressure on his neck to stop the bleeding. 

"Here I was thinking the only person in the world who wanted to bite my neck was you, love." 

Mellina slapped his chest lightly, nodding to Arya with a scolding look. 

Mellina was thankful she had the forethought to shred the bloody remains of the pink dressed for bandages, as she was able to make a pad to keep the plate from agitating the wound but struggled to actually bind the bite due to its location. 
 
"It should be cauterized," Arya spoke up and Mellina nodded in agreement. 

"No, no fire." Sandor shook his head. "Just stitch it." 

Mellina tossed him a withering look but nodded, jerking her head in the direction they'd been traveling. 

"We should get further away." Arya translated. 

"I know what the fuck she's saying." Sandor snapped, the pain putting him in a foul mood. 

Once they were well away from any settlements, Mellina immediately dismounted and forced Sandor to sit on a rock. 

She motioned to Arya, who was catching on to Mellina's various gestures at an impressive rate. 

"Water and firewood got it."

"You're not getting that fucking fire anywhere near me!" 

Mellina gripped Sandor's shirt and stared at him hard, her nails nearly digging into his skin. 

Arya returned quickly with two canteens full of stream water and an arm full of firewood which Mellina was quick to ignite. Sandor's helm made a halfway decent boiling pot and Mellina soaked the rags in hot water before trying her best to clean the wound. 

"Fuck! Not so hard!"

"She wouldn't have to go so hard if you'd just let her burn away that horrible bit." Arya pointed out and Sandor growled at her. 

Mellina had seen bite wounds fester before in Flea Bottom, where if you didn't have the skills to make or steal a weapon, you used what the gods provided. It was a horrible display; putrid wounds with black veins running from them. 

She pointed to Arya and made a crab-like pinching motion with her hand and pointed to Sandor. 

"This is going to hurt." Arya said, "She says it'll help if you talk through the pain." 

"Not much to talk about." 

"Alright." Arya looked around. "Why do you have such a large bounty on your head?"

Sandor scoffed, "Oh, you can blame this one for that." He pointed to Mellina and winced as the needle sunk through his flesh. "The queen got it into her head after we fled that I'd kidnapped her. I guess she's not that good at taking rejection." 

"What does that mean?" 

Sandor glanced up at his wife questioningly. "How much of this are you okay with her hearing?" 

Mellina pulled her lips to the side and gave a helpless shrug. 

"Alright," He conceded, "Mellina and The Queen had what you might call a special relationship. But then...well something happened. Something awful. And after that it was no longer safe in Kings Landing so, if the queen wasn't going to let us leave, we decided to leave when no one was paying attention to stop us." 

Arya listened intently, "What was the something awful?" 

Sandor froze. 

He and Mellina never talked of it. It was easier not to. 
He hadn't even said his son's name, not out loud. 

"Our son was killed."

Mellina turned Sandor's head back to the side when he looked up at her, having finally broken her silence after days of nothing but gestures and looks. 

"I didn't know you had a son." Arya breathed, unsure how far she could pry before she hit a nerve. 

"I was nearly full term when the queen poisoned us. I don't know if she intended to kill both of us or just him, but he..." She paused her stitching and sighed, leaning on her husband a moment before resuming her work. "He came too early. After a while, the Maesters said they could either focus their attentions on me or the babe, but not on both....and here I am, so." 

She finished the stitches and cut the end with a sharp knife. It would have been better to burn it, but this would have to do. 
If she kept a close eye on it, maybe it would heal fine. 

"There." she breathed. "Done. And no bloody fire." 

She gathered the tools and began to place them in the packs, leaving Arya and Sandor alone. 

After a moment, Arya couldn't help herself. 
"Did he have a name? Your son?"

Sandor didn't answer at first but eventually nodded. 
"Aello. He was called Aello." 

"Storm." Arya nodded. "Good name for a boy." 

Sandor chuckled at that. 
"Thanks." 

Chapter Text

The terrain around the grew more mountainous rather quickly, indicating their transition from the Riverlands to the Vale. 

After a certain point, it became clear that the horses would no longer be able to traverse the rocky hills, and with much reluctance, they had to be left behind. 

Mellina hovered outside of the stables as Sandor struggled for a moment to drag himself away from Stranger, the ornery, loyal mount that'd carried him for years. 
He fetched a good price, as did the gelding. 50 silvers each. 

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," he muttered, "He'll be better off anyway, without people chasing after him. Whatever poor farmer tries to stick a plow on him will have a challenge though." 

Mellina nodded, scratching the horse's nose fondly. 

"You be good," she told the animal. "Don't bite any children, and don't kick anyone in the head. Even if they deserve it." 

Sandor watched her, a fond smile etched across his face. "What have I told you about talking to horses?" 

Mellina chuckled, "I uh- we never did get to talk out it." 

"Do you want to?" 

"I don't know." She sniffed, "Part of me wants to just forget it ever happened." 

"And the other part." 

"Wants to make sure it never happens again."

Sandor nodded understandingly. "It won't."

"Swear?"

"Swear."

That was good enough for her. 

"I'm sorry about everything I said. I was angry and uh, well even if it was true I didn't say it for the right reasons." she moved from foot to foot. "So." 

"Was it true?'" Sandor glanced over her shoulder to ensure Arya was not listening. "At Harrenhal?"

Mellina's stomach twisted but she nodded. 
"Yeah." 

Sandor swallowed hard, a pain settling in his throat. 
"I never should have left you alone." 

"And I never should have made us stay too long in one place." Mellina nodded. "But that's over now. We're only a few days out from the Eyrie. We'll get Arya settled, and then we'll get off the clusterfuck of a continent and go wherever we want." 
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Back on the road, it was a constant trek of hills and valleys.
Mellina kept watch over Sandor's wound and was frustrated to find it was not healing. 
It wasn't festering badly, but it needed real medical attention and not just her basic stitching and cleaning. 

"I thought it would make me happy." Arya shrugged, "But it didn't, not really." 

"Nothing makes you happy." Sandor scoffed and Ary threw him a dirty look. 
"Not true, lots of things make me happy." 

"Like what?" 

"Killing Poliver. Killing Rouge. "

"What, so you're sad because you didn't get to kill Joffrey yourself?"

"I would like to have least been able to watch." Ayra shrugged. "I wanted to see the look in his eyes when he realized it was all over." 

"Aye." Sandor agreed. "Nothing in the world beats that look."

"What about you?" Arya nudged Mellina, "What do you think?" 

"There is a certain sense of justice in it." Mellina nodded, "That the woman who killed my son was forced to watch her own son die. But it's not enough for me. A good start, I won't deny it. But not enough for me." 

"What would make you happy then?" 

Mellina thought a moment. 
"I would want everyone to know about her and her brother. Everyone to know that her children are bastards. Everyone in Flea Bottom to decide they will not tolerate an incestuous, treasonous family in the Red Keep, and rise up and cast them out. I want her to lose everything." 

"But not die?"

"No." Mellina shook her head, "No, I want her to live with it every single day." 

Arya thought for a second. "Is that all true, about the Queen and her brother?"

"Oh yes." Mellina nodded. "I saw it with my own eyes." 

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

"Never had any reason to at the time." Mellina shrugged, "Keeping the secret was more beneficial than telling the truth." 

Arya nodded, taking this in. 

Sandor grunted, pulling at his plate in discomfort. 

"It still hurts?" Mellina glanced over at him. "I wish you'd have let me cauterize it." 

"It's a flea bite." 

Mellina frowned and stormed past Arya, pulling Sandor down by his shirt and pressing her hand to his head. It was warm, warmer than it would be just from walking.

"That fleabite's given you a fever," she growled. "Maybe we'll get lucky and find a Maester or something." 

The Bloody Gate was a large, imposing fortress snuggly blocking the entrance to the Eyrie. It was made out of an oily black stone no one knew the name of and was crafted as early as the first men. 

"Who would pass the Bloody Gate?" A guard called down to them. 

"The Bloody Hound, Sandor Clegane." Sandor bellowed back. "Delivering Arya Stark, niece to your Lady, Lysa Arryn." 

"In that case, you have my condolences." The guard called back. "The Lady Arryn died three days ago." 

Mellina's stomach turned to boiling lead and Sandor's face fell with grim realization. 

Arya, on the other hand, so taken aback, began to laugh almost hysterically.

"What the fuck." Mellina breathed, "What the fuck is happening? Ser!" She called up. "May we ask how the Lady Arryn passed?"

"I'm afraid it was suicide, My Lady." 

"Motherfucker." Sandor cursed as Arya continued to howl with laughter. 

"This cannot be happening right now." Mellina shook her head. "Uh, okay. okay. We just need to pivot. We can still make this work, we can still make a plan, we can-" 

"Mel?"

She turned to Sandor who shook his head, "The horse is dead, time to stop beating it." 

"Fuck." she breathed. "Okay, I uh- Let's go, I guess. Arya, Arya love, come on." 

Finding a place among the hills well-hidden enough to camp in was fairly easy. 

Arya's fit of laughter had subsided and she became herself once more. 
"Now what?"

"I uh..." Mellina shook her head, "I really don't know, kid. Darling? Thoughts?" 

"I think we're cursed." Sandor only half-joked. 

"I'm getting the same feeling." Arya agreed. 

"Alright, well." Mellina nodded, "On the upside, The Vale hasn't seen much action from the Lannisters or any other raiders. We still have the silver from the horses.  Arya-" she turned to the girl "I need you to think. What other family do you have, any at all?"

"I uh-" She nodded, "I have a brother and an uncle in the Night's Watch. They're at Castle Black." 

"That's something." Mellina nodded, "That's definitely something." 

"The Night's Watch isn't going to pay a ransom." Sandor pointed out. 

"My love, I think we're going to have to loosen our hopes on any ransom." Mellina sighed. "Maybe, at this point, we just need to focus on getting her somewhere safe." 

Sandor grumbled in disappointment but nodded. "You may be right." 

They walked for miles before settling down for the night. Mellina once again checked Sandor's neck and shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to his brow. 

"You're burning up." 

"I'm fine. Just need some sleep. The fever will break overnight." 

It hadn't. 

In fact, it only got worse. 

Mellina sent Arya to practice her swordsmanship while she examined the wound. 

Now it was starting to look like the bites she'd seen in Flea Bottom. 

"Fucking hell." She cursed, boiling another helm full of water and attempting to wash away the infected flesh. 

"People coming." 

Mellina looked up and found Arya looking down at them. 

"What?" 

"People are coming." 

"Fuck." Mellina grabbed her knife and slipped it into her belt as she rose. 

"Morning." 

Mellina blinked. 

It was a woman. 
A very large woman with ashy blonde hair, backed by a smaller boy. 
She was dressed in armor and carried with her a long sword with a golden pommel. 

"Morning." Mellina nodded. "Can we help you?" 

"How far to the Bloody Gate? Close?" 

Mellina shook her head and pointed east. "About ten miles that way." 

"Ah, see Podrick." The woman chuckled tiredly. "Only 10 more miles." 

"Are you a Knight?" Arya asked, eyes wide with admiration. 

"No." 

"But you know how to use that sword?"

The woman smiled shyly. "Yes, I do." 

"Who taught you how to fight?" Arya pressed and Mellina grabbed her sleeve lightly to keep her from getting too close to the stranger. 

"My father did." the woman responded with a proud smile. 

"Mine never wanted to," Arya confessed. "He said fighting was for boys." 

"Mine said the same." The woman laughed, "But I kept fighting the boys anyway, and eventually he said if I was going to fight, I would have to learn to do it properly." She looked past Arya to Mellina and nodded. 

"Seven Blessings. I'm sorry, I am Brienne of Tarth, and this is Podrick Payne." 

Mellina nodded, coming up from behind Arya and placing an arm in from of her to gently push her back. 

Sandor rose, having resecured his plate, and gazed upon them with suspicious eyes. 
"You want something?" 

"That's Sandor Clegane. That's the Hound." The boy carrying the bags breathed and Mellina closed her eyes. Please not again, not here, not now. 

Brienne's eyes moved from the Hound back to Arya, realization washing over her face. 

"You're Arya Stark." she swallowed. "I promised your Mother I would bring you home to her." 

"My mother is dead." Arya shook her head by Brienne nodded. 

"I know, I wish I could have been there to protect her." 

Mellina took in her look and her accent and squinted. "You're not a Northerner." 

"No." Brienne looked at her pleadingly. "But I swore a sacred vow to protect her." 

"Then why didn't you?" Arya pressed accusingly and Brienne's face faltered. 

"She ordered me to escort Jaime Lannister to Kings Landing in exchange for you and your sister." 

"You're paid by the Lannisters." Sandor cut in. Mellina glanced at him and put herself further in front of Ayra. 
"I am not paid by the Lannisters." Brienne insisted but Sandor scoffed. 

"No? Fancy sword you got there." He nodded to the golden pommel at her hip. "Where'd you get it?"

"Arya, you still have Needle?" Mellina whispered and the girl nodded, her hand already on the pommel. "Be ready to run if you need to. Do not let them catch you if it comes down to it, do you understand?" 

Arya nodded seriously. 

"I have been looking at Lannister Gold my entire life." Sandor approached Brienne, getting close enough to threaten. "Go ahead, Brienne of fucking Tarth. Tell me that isn't Lannister Gold." 

Brienne winced but nodded slowly. "Jaime Lannister gave me this sword." She confessed and Mellina's palms went clammy and tightened on her knife. 

"As I told you, The Bloody Gate is 10 miles that way." 

"Please, Arya. I swore to your mother by the Old Gods-" 

"I don't care what you swore!" Arya snapped.

"Arya-!'

"I suggest you leave her alone." Mellina barked. 

"And who are you?"

"I am the one who has been looking after her, unlike you." Mellina snapped back at the woman. 

"She's not going with you," Sandor said firmly. 

"No, she is." 

"You're not a very good listener." 

Swords were drawn quickly, and Mellina could see the shimmer of Valerian Steel on Brienne's sword. 

"Arya, please. Come with me." Brienne pled with the girl. "I will take you to safety." 

"Safety? And where the fuck is that?" Sandor barked. "Her aunt in the Eryie is dead, her mother is dead. Her father's dead. Her brother's dead. Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There is no safety, you dumb bitch. And if you haven't figured that out by now, you're the wrong one to be watching over her." 

"And that's what you're doing? Watching over her?" Brienne challenged, and Sandor rose to it gladly. 

"Aye, that's what I'm doing." 

When steel hit plate, Mellina's dagger was out, and she turned to Arya swiftly. "Run, now." 

They bolted between rocks and boulders, and Mellina could hear Brienne's squire charging after them. 
Skidding to a halt, Mellina looked back. 

"Don't stop Arya, keep running!" she called as Podrick stopped in from of her. 

"I don't want to hurt you, boy." She growled. "But if you take one more step after that little girl, I will." 

Podrick was conflicted. 
To lose Arya was to give up on a major part of their quest, making half of this trip a waste of time. 
But, on the other hand, he didn't want to fight a woman.

"Please, My Lady." Podrick pleaded. "Please we just want to help her." 

"And I'm just supposed to trust that?" Mellina spat, "No, Arya Stark will be returning to Kings Landing over my cold, dead body. And no other way. Go tell that to your brother fucking queen." 

Before Podrick could counter, they heard an unholy wailing from the ridge above them. 

"I think your lady may be in need of assistance," Mellina smirked. 

Podrick looked past Mellina, then back up to the ridge, trying to determine what to do before panicking and scrambling back up. 

Mellina sighed in relief and ran in the direction Arya had. 

"Arya?" she called. "Arya?" 

"Psst." 
Mellina whipped around and found Arya had wedged herself against the rock face and pressed herself as tightly as she could into the shadows. 

"Oh thank the Gods." Mellina breathed. "Are you hurt?" 

Arya shook her head but motioned sideways. "He's hurt, I think she pushed him off the cliff." 

Mellina's heart dropped but she nodded. "Just stay here, alright? Stay hidden, and if you can't fight you run and scream as hard as you can. Okay?"

Arya nodded and Mellina crept in the shadows to the base of the cliff. 
In the distance up the hillside a little she saw him. 

"No." Her throat burned with acid as she sprinted for him. "No, no, no, no, no. Please Gods, no." 

He was alive, but just barely. 
He watched her approach and winced, "You shouldn't be here."

"Sh, sh, sh. Don't talk." Mellina watched as blood leaked from his mouth with each work. Her eyes scanned him and found the situation to be grim. 

The bone was sticking out of his thigh. 
She wouldn't know how to set it if she tried. 
And she couldn't move him, not on her own. 

"Oh, Gods." She was trembling. "Fuck, Sandor." 

"Take the girl and go." He groaned. "Mellina, you need to go." 

"No, no I am not leaving you." 

"Is he?"

Mellina looked up and found Arya standing not far from them. 

"No." she shook her head. "No, he's alive." 

Arya sat on a rock, watching carefully as Mellina tried to keep her composure, which was unraveling fast. 

"Okay, okay." She took a deep breath. "You'll be fine." 

"Mellina." 

"No!" She barked, "No, you be quiet! I won't hear a single word besides you'll be alright." 

Sandor chuckled painfully, reaching up and brushing the curls that hung in her face away. 
"Oh, my sweet wife." he winced, blood leaking from his mouth as he spoke. "Always so good to me. Too good." 

"Jus-Just stay here." she breathed. "Don't move." 

Mellina scrambled to Arya and took a breath, struggling dearly to keep it together. 

"He's dying." 

"Maybe, maybe not." Mellina nodded, feeling nauseous. "So, here's what's going to happen. It is no longer safe for you here, Okay? Now, you've got your friends in Braavos, and you've got your brother at Castle Black. Now, you're going to take 50 of those silvers in our pack and you're going to go to the coast, we're not far; you can make it, I know you can. And you are either going to book passage to Braavos, or you are going to book passage to East Watch by the Sea." 

Arya listed carefully; her eyes dead serious as she registered her instructions. 

"Take about half the food we have left, and..." Mellina swallowed hard, "As soon as you see someone. Anyone. I need you to tell them there's been a terrible accident and that we need help. Can you do that?"

Arya nodded slowly. "I will." 

Mellina looked over her face and let tears spill over her cheeks. 
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave him." 

"I know." Arya nodded, "As soon as I see someone, I promise I will send help." 

Mellina nodded and to Arya's initial surprise, the woman pulled her into a quick embrace before pushing her away. 

"Now go, before that blonde bitch and her idiot come back." 

Mellina took a moment to gather their supplies, passing half of it to Arya, before returning to Sandor. 

"You should have gone with her." 

"She's a tough kid." Mellina sniffed, wiping her eyes. "She'll be okay." 

"She'd be better with you." 

"Maybe." Mellina nodded. "You're not going to die, you know." 

"How do you know?" Sandor scoffed, allowing the conversation to distract him from the pain. 

"Because I am not going to allow you to die," Mellina explained plainly. "It simply will not happen. If you try, I'll just bring you back like Thoros brings back Beric." 

"Oh, will you now?" 

"I will. See if I don't." 

She poured water down his throat and cleaned his wounds as best she could. 
When dusk began to fall, she built a fire and watched him constantly as he slept, or rather passed out from pain. 
His chest rose and fell, and Mellina find herself watching him through the fire. 

"Come on." She prayed into the fire. "You saved him once; you can do it again. I know you can. Please. Whatever plan you have for me, he needs to be in it, or I simply will not cooperate. We're a package deal, so...do whatever it is you need to do." 

The fire cracked and popped in response, sending shadows up the cliffside and letting them dance like ancient ghosts. 

Chapter Text

As the sun began to rise, Mellina was roused by the sound of hooves and the rattle of a wagon over the rocky hills. 

She blinked hard and pressed her fingers to her husband's pulse. 
Still there.
But only just. 

While she still had a chance, Mellina stood up and dashed over the ridge. 
In the distance, she saw salvation in the form of a single mule-drawn wagon with 1 driver. 

"Help!" She yelled at the top of her lungs and waved her arms madly over her head. "Please! Over here! Help us!" 

The driver's small head looked up and at her and her heart soured. 
"Yes, hello!" She began to jump up and down as if that would make him move faster. "Over here! We need up please!" 

The driver was a short old man with salt and pepper hair and a face that at one point must have been stunning to look upon.

"I was told there was a traveling party in distress all the way out here." He grunted as he pulled the wagon to a halt. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Please, my husband is badly injured. He needs a maester, please will you help us?" Mellina begged earnestly and the older man nodded, slipping from the driver's seat. 

"Lead the way, and explain everything." 
Mellina told him they had been set upon by attackers and her husband had been thrown from the cliff. 
"His leg is badly broken. I've done all I can, but he's burning with fever."

"Wow." The man stopped when he set eyes on Sandor, who had fallen out of consciousness. "That's a big man." 

"Please." Mellins sensed hesitation in his voice. "Please, he is all I have." 

"Very well." He conceded. "But I'll need your help. We need to get him in the wagon." 

Mellina nodded and rushed to Sandor's side, rousing him as well as she could.

 
"Wake up! Wake up you great thing, we're saved." She flung one arm over her shoulder and raised him forward. "Come on, work with me. I already told you, you're not dying here."

The old man took up the other arm, and together they huffed and puffed until Sandor was on the edge of the wagon. 

"Get in and pull him up." He instructed Mellina, who obeyed swiftly. She grabbed her husband under the arms and pulled him up with all her strength as their rescuer climbed back into the driver's seat. 

"Hold on tightly, it's a rough ride back." 
"I don't know how to thank you, ser!"

"It's Septon" he called over his shoulder. "Septon Raymond! But just call me Ray, everyone does." 

They rode for hours and more than once Mellina was certain Sandor had stopped breathing and flew into a panic until his chest began to move again. 

"We're almost there, right up ahead do you see?"

Mellins looked over her shoulder and saw a settlement ahead of them, lit up with torchlight in the darkness of the night. 

"It's small, but there's a healer plus food and water to share." He explained. "Just hold on a bit longer"

When they arrived, there were plenty of strong men more than willing to lift Sandor from the wagon and deliver him to the healer's doorstep. 

She was an old woman, at least 70, and she was backed by 3 large, baby-faced boys. 
"Mother's Mercy." The old woman muttered. "Child, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"We were attacked," Mellina explained and the old woman shook her head with a disapproving cluck. 

"These brigands. They have no shame. First thing's first is that leg."
Despite Mellina's best efforts, nearly every wound on Sandor's body had festered. 
"You won't want to see this, my dear."

"No!" Mellina fought off any hands that dared try pulling her away. "I won't leave him!" 

"Please, the healer must have room to work." Ray took her by the arm firmly and pulled her away. "Come with me, and we'll get you settled."

"No, I'll wait outside if I have to, but I won't leave him!" 

Ray frowned deeply but nodded. "Very well, but outside." 

They worked for hours, and while Mellina sat in the soft green grass outside the medical tent, Ray stood right there with her the whole time. 
She would not answer any questions until she was sure Sandor was safe. Towards the end, Mellina could smell burning hair and flesh and shook her head. 

If she'd forced Sandor to just buck up and let her cauterize the wound, maybe this never would have happened. 

"Oh!" Ray went wide-eyed and awkwardly attempted to pat Mellina's shoulder as tears streamed down her face. "It'll be alright, you are safe now."

"This is all my fault, I failed him! I never should have left him alone! He was too sick to fight!" 

"No, you mustn't blame yourself. So many are attacked by romancing villains thanks to this wretched war. You're lucky to have escaped with your life." 

But her tears could not be dissuaded, falling freely down her face until Septon Ray sunk into the grass next to her, looking at her knowingly. 
"You know." He began, "In times like these, one might find comfort in spiritual counsel."

Mellina considered this a moment before shaking her head. The Gods already knew everything. 

When all that could be done had been done, Mellina was allowed to sleep in the medical tent. 

She had never seen him look so weak, and it frightened her to get core. 
All through the night she held his cold hand in hers and whispered to him, constantly alert for any indication he could hear her. 

"Don't you dare leave me." She hissed. "Don't even think about it." 

When morning rolled around, the healer and her apprentices returned to check on them. 

Sandor was still burning with a fever, he'd lasted the night after the arrest of getting his leg reset and braced tightly between 2 sturdy planks of wood. 

"You must eat something." 

Mellina stared at the food and shook her head. 
"Please, give it to someone who needs it. I can't." 

"Starving yourself won't bring him back faster, you know." The healer sniffed at her. "Go on, just a bite at a time." 

Mellina frowned rolling a heal of bread in her hand before tearing off a bit and eating it slowly. 

"How are we this morning?" Ray entered with a cheerful look. 

"He made it through the hard part." The healer nodded. "Now if we can fight off the infection, he will be good as new." 

"If you don't mind, my dear." Ray patted Mellina's back in a way far too familiar. "The village leaders have a few questions for you."

"What about?" 
"Nothing bad, I promise." 

The village leaders were a small group of older citizens, each with a face sterner than the last. She was placed on a pulpit in the village gathering hall and willingly stood through their questioning. 

"Thank you for welcoming us." Mellina nodded respectfully. "How can I help?"

"As you well know, shiftless rogues have been pillaging villages left and right." The man in the middle began. "If you were attacked as you claim, we need to know all we can about your attackers to keep a watch out." 

Mellina nodded. "Well, there were two of them, one was an absolutely massive woman, nearly as large as my husband. And the other was her squire, an older boy with dark hair, maybe 16." 

"A woman?" 

A flood of titters washed over the leaders and Mellina frowned. 
"I'm sure it would be quite amusing." She simmered. "If my husband were not currently fighting for his life. She shoved him off a cliff and left him for dead. She didn't even have to good grace to show him the mercy of a quick death." 

Her sharp tone jabbed at their bemused faces and urged them back into somber sternness. 

"You're right, this is a serious matter." The leading man nodded. "Do you know what house these brigands claimed?"

"The woman was of House Tarth. The boy of House Payne. But it was clear they were both in the service of House Lannister." 

A disturbed murmur filled the gathering hall.
"Lannisters in the Vale." 
"But the war was supposed to stay in the Riverlands."
"Why would they be here?" 

Ray moved to the pulpit beside her and brought everyone to a hush. 
"Alright, alright. Now, we have a decision to make. All those in favor of increasing guard shifts, say aye."
A course of ayes went up among them and Ray nodded. 

"Very good, we'll get that organized and started tonight." 

They disbanded but Ray lingered beside Mellina. 
"You are welcome to stay as long as you need, but I fear that will be quite a while. Your husband will have a rough go of healing that leg."

"He can do it." Mellina sniffed. "He's strong. The strongest man I know." 

"I'm sure." Ray nodded, "But, in the meantime, I encourage you to get settled, as much as you can that is. There are a few empty huts, you could choose one." 

"What is this place?" Mellina looked around. She had never seen a village like this before. So small, and yet seemingly so well organized. 

"We were all displaced by raiders, like yourself. We came together and rebuilt what we'd lost." Ray explained, walking her from the gathering hall and out into the sunlight. 
"You see, we take care of each other here. Our crops are grown together, raise the animals, even the woman care for the children together."

"So, I could-" 

"All we ask is that you do what you can." Ray shrugged, "Even if it's small things. You might find it a comfort to have so many people around." 

Mellina considered this. 
She really had no other option, she couldn't leave. And when Sandor woke it would be months before he was on his feet again. 
And even when he was, they had no idea where to go next. 

Maybe this is what she needed. 

Time. 

Time to rebuild their life from the ground up. 

"I have to warn you." Mellina sighed. "We've been running for a while. There's a bounty and your people might get-"

"My people," He cut her off with a smile, "Are no strangers to danger. And no one deserves to be chased forever." 

Mellina nodded, her shoulder going slack as if the entire world had been lifted off of them. 

"If you're sure." she breathed, "I think helping out is the least I can do for all of your help."

"Excellent." Ray cheered, "Please, let me show you around."

The Grand Tour included a generous patch of land growing all sorts of food to feed the villagers and to be stored for the coming Winter, livestock that resided in a single large barn, and about 2 dozen stone huts with thatched roofs that had mostly been filled. 

"This one is as close to the medical tent as we can get you." Ray motioned her in where she found a single bed and a fire pit in the center of the room over which hung an iron pot. "They're not much, but they serve." 

"I haven't slept under a roof in... Gods, it's been ages." Mellina sighed. 

"If I may ask, do you observe the Faith of the Seven?"

"I was raised in it." she smiled a little, "Septons in the capital took great pleasure in preaching to us street kids, even if we were just listening for a heel of bread after." 

"I do sermons every morning and night at dawn and dusk." Ray shrugged, "You are welcome to sit in, and get to know everyone." 

"I think I can do that." Mellina nodded, "But uh, I should get back to Sandor now. He'll be terribly cross if wakes up with a broken leg and no wife." 

Mellina stayed by her husband's side all day until dusk, and still, she couldn't manage to pull herself away to attend Ray's sermon. 
Each time she rose, she could not help but wonder. 

What if he wakes up and I'm not here?
What if I walk away and he dies?

Neither situation was acceptable. 

"I can listen from here," she told herself, never taking her eyes off him. 

Chapter Text

Weeks passed and eventually, to Mellina's great delight, Sandor did return to the land of the living. 
Still boiling with fever, he was barely coherent and seemed not to know where he was. But, as soon as Mellina was by his side, he calmed. 

"Husband, please." Mellina pressed her hands to his shoulders, trying to keep him from thrashing. "Darling it's me. It's Mellina, your wife! You're safe. We're safe." 

From that day Mellina began to feel more comfortable leaving Sandor to sleep on his own, now semi-confident he wouldn't slip away from her in the night. 
She acquainted herself with the other villagers who welcomed her warmly and were quick to show her how things worked around here. 

In the mornings, before the heat of the day took over, she helped tend the crops and animals. 

When the heat hit, she would be at her husband's side but often with some small handicraft she'd been assigned. She had a sneaking suspicion these were more to keep her from going mad than to perform an actual service for the community. 

And, after weeks of putting him off, Ray was delighted to see that she was finally attending his sermons with everyone else. 

One day, nearly a month into their occupation, Mellina noticed people had begun to stop and stare at the road just outside the village. 
A parade of dully dressed people was headed right for them, accompanied by wagons and a few beasts of burden. 

Ray's face broke into an eager smile and went out to greet them quickly. 

"Who is that?" Mellina asked the healer who glanced at the oncoming mob. 

"That's Ray's teacher, the High Sparrow. He was a Septon, but one day he realized he could do more good among the people than in some High Lord's castle."

"Why is he called the High Sparrow?"

"It was a name used by other Septons and the church to demean him in his cause. They said he thought too much of himself for someone so common. A High Sparrow."

Mellina nodded at this, not asking any more questions. Instead, she scanned the crowd. Plain-faced people all dressed in pale woolen clothes, nothing to set one apart from the other be they high born or low. 

The people began to fill the village and were greeted warmly as if they were friends coming home from a long journey. Food and water were rushed out to nourish them and many began to sit on the ground to rest their weary feet. 

Something caught her eye. A crop of yellow-gold hair that triggered something in her mind. 
She peered deeper into the crowd and set her eyes on a young, solemn-faced man with pale green eyes. 

"Lancel?" She called without thinking and her heart leaped when his head turned to look at her. "Lancel!"

"Mellina!" He pushed himself from the ground and rushed to her, his stony face breaking into laughter as to trapped his thin frame in her soft arms and squeezed tightly. 

"Mother's Mercy, look at you!" She stepped back, taking all of him in. "You look so different. What are you doing here?" 

"I gave it up! My title, the castle, I knew this is where I was meant to be." Lancel insisted. "But what are you doing here?"

"We were attacked." She explained. "Sandor and I, Raymond found us and took us in. Oh, it's so good to see you!" She embraced him again tighter this time and Lancel felt his head tremble.

No, he told himself, you've come so far.

"Where is Sandor?" He pulled away, carrying on the conversation. 

Mellina's face fell slightly and she looked back at the medical tent. 
"This way."

"Father give us strength." Lancel breathed as he gazed into the tent and Mellina drew him to Sandor's side. "Who did this?"

"An attacker sent by your cousins." Mellina sniffed bitterly. "They raised the ransom so often we never knew peace. Eventually, he got wounded and...I did what I could, I swear I did, but it festered. Then when that big bitch with her Valyrian steel sword attacked us in the hills...I never should have left him alone." 

"No, this wasn't your fault." Lancel insisted, his heart twisting as Mellina began to weep softly. 

"He was dying, and there wasn't anything I could do but sit there and wait, and pray that someone found us." 

Mellina felt a dam break in her she didn't even know she'd built. This was Lancel, her friend. Someone she knew and trusted. She'd missed him so much and didn't realize it until right now. 

"I'm so glad you're here." she let out a trembling breath. "I...I've been so alone. So many times I thought I might be losing my mind." 

"Don't talk like that," Lancel blushed and thanked The Father for the shade of the tent to cover it up. 

"Please." She pled with him, "Please, you are the first person I've seen, the first person I know I can trust, in so long...I just need to talk, please just let me talk." 

Lancel gazed at her and though he knew it was his faithful duty to say no, to remove himself from temptation, he conceded. 

She told him everything. 

About the men she'd killed, about Gregor and Harrenhal, about trying so hard to get Arya somewhere safe only to fail once again because she refused to leave Sandor to die. 

She told him about the night she'd stayed awake, bound at the edge of a campfire, trying to determine if it was best to just cut her losses and disappear; try to forget the last 2 years and act like it never happened. 

She told him about the maid she'd left behind in Harrenhal, and how she was probably dead by now. 

She told him about the farmer and his daughter and the rage she'd flown into, cursing Sandor's name and the day she'd laid eyes on him. 

Lancel took all of it in silently, keeping a look of neutral non-judgment across his face until she was finished and leaning on his shoulder weakly. 

"I'm sorry." she breathed, wiping her face on her sleeve. "But, also, thank you." 

"It's our responsibility to be present for our fellow man in times of crisis." Lancel recited plainly. "I was glad to do it. But, I wonder if you might help me, as well." 

"Anything." 

"I've told the High Sparrow about you...and you and the queen." He swallowed hard. "He knows that the current reign is wrong and an abomination against the Gods. We are going to Kings Landing to spread our message and influence the people. He asked me if there was anything he should know about the Royal Family and I..." 

"In what way?" Mellina eyed him carefully. "Because if he wants to use it to condemn the queen for lying with women, then my answer is no." 

"No, no, it's not that. It's..." Lancel looked away. "He wants to hear from you about circumstances surrounding the Deaths of King Robert and your son."

Mellina froze.

"Lancel, we swore never to talk about that." 

"I'm sorry." he breathed, "but it was all I could think of. I told the High Sparrow my part but, I said it was the queen who recruited me, not you."

"You lied?"

"Sh!" Lancel hushed her, glancing at the tent flap. "Yes, but...Mellina, she is a monster! You know that better than anyone! If you tell the High Sparrow that you got the poison from Pycelle on the Queen's orders, and tell him what happened that night she attacked you, we may have a real shot of winning the people over!" 

Mellina considered this hesitantly but ultimately nodded. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The High Sparrow looked nothing like what Mellina had expected. 

He was an old man, short and bald with tufts of white hair at his temples. He dressed in what appeared to be old sacks and did not wear shoes. 

So this was the man to take down Cersei Lannister, the Lioness of Kings Landing. 

Mellina invited him into her hut welcomingly but held him at arm's length. Immediately, Mellina felt something was off.  

"You wanted to speak to me." 

"I did, thank you for meeting with me." The old man sat across the fire from her with a smile. "I've heard you've had a rather rough go of it."

"You could say that. Is it true you're leaving tomorrow?" 

"It is. We hope to make it to the Capital before the Wedding of King Tommen."

Mellina laughed openly at that and, at the confused look etched on the High Sparrow's face, she sat back. 

"I'm sorry." she breathed, "It's just...it feels like only yesterday I was holding that little boy in my lap while he cried because he grabbed a stinging nettle....and now he is king."

"Brother Lancel informed me that you might have some information. Information that could help us restore Kings Landing to peace and morality." The High Sparrow looked at her expectantly. "Would you be willing to share your story with me?" 

Across the fire, Mellina could not help but feel a shiver of distrust crawl up her spine. 
This man had the look of a kindly grandfather, and yet there was simply something about his aura that clung to her like a foul smell. 
His eyes looked as if they wanted to pry open her mind and prod for any useful information he could find. 

No, she told herself. 
She wanted Cersei to suffer; to pay for what she had done. 
But this was not the man to do it.

"Actually, quite the opposite," Mellina said firmly, watching his face fall. "I am sorry if Lancel gave you some false hope, but I do not wish for the death of my child to become fuel for whatever propaganda you're cooking up for Kings Landing." 

"I-I fear you may misunderstand." The old man recovered quickly. "From what I have heard, you of all people would want the Lannisters out of power."

"I do." Mellina nodded, "But my personal conflicts with Queen Cersei are just that, personal. I appreciate your mission, and I wish you well on it. But I am trying to put my past behind me and move forward, not linger in painful memories." 

"I see." 

"I am sorry to disappoint you." Mellina closed the matter firmly. "Don't blame Lancel. When we last met, he knew me to be a vengeful woman. I was full of hate. I am trying to be better."

"I am glad to hear it." He lied skillfully but Mellina could still smell his falsehood a mile away. "Seven Blessings on you, my child."

"And on you as well." 

Returning to the Medical tent, she found Lancel waiting for her. 
She gave him a shake of her head and his face fell. 

"Was it not what he wanted?"

"I couldn't do it," she confessed. "I'm sorry, Lancel. I am. But I...I couldn't tear open old wounds because of that woman. I've worked too hard to let them heal."

Lancel looked crestfallen but nodded. 
"Ray is gathering everyone for his sermon, will you come?" 

"No." Mellina shook her head, "I think I ought to stay with him tonight. I'm sure the Gods will excuse my absence." 

Lancel nodded and his breath caught as she drew closer to him. She was simply moving to the tent flap, trying to move past him, but something primal and sinful took hold of Lancel's mind the moment her warm flesh pressed against his. 

 Mellina had not been kissed like that in what felt like a hundred years.
It was hard and insistent, the tip of a tongue prying past her lips tenderly as hands pressed at her back and head. 
Fingers entwined in her curls and pulled gently, begging her to reciprocate. 

She almost did, so lost in the moment that she almost forgot herself. 

But before baser instincts could prevail, Mellina remembered herself. 

Jerking from his grasp, Mellina delivered a sharp, reprimanding slap to Lancel's cheek, panting. 

"I'm sorry." His voice broke. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

She wanted to scold him further, and he would have deserved it. But the look in his pale eyes told her he was kicking himself enough without her piling onto him. 

With a sigh, she shook her head in disappointment. 

"I forgive you, Lancel." she crossed her arms tightly. "Now go ask the Gods for theirs." 

Chapter Text

"Fuck!" Sandor breathed sharply through his nose as he risked putting weight on his leg. 

"Don't do that!" Mellins scolded him. Taking up the carved wood cane that had been specially made sturdy enough to hold him up, she shoved it under his arm. "If you don't let it heal properly, you'll be walking with a limp for the rest of your life." 

Sandor cast her a withering look and grumbled. "You should have slit my throat and went with the girl."

"Well, I didn't." She snapped. "So shut up about it, and eat your food."

Sandor had been sour since he regained enough consciousness to feel pain again. Mellina could hardly blame him, he'd been through hell and back. 

But she didn't recall him being this much of a baby. 

It had been 2 months since they arrived in the village. In that time, Mellina had managed to secure a place for herself in the tiny community by making herself friendly and useful. 

She tended children with the other women and helped with the farming though she had to be taught the basics. At dawn and dusk, she attended Ray's services. 

She had earned the admiration of her new community for her devotion to her husband, whom most people considered more an object than a person. 

It was easy to like Sandor when he wasn't talking. 

"Let me see." She climbed onto the bench next to him and inspected the wounds that had festered. The village healer had managed to beat back the infection, but they had left nasty pink scars scattered about his body. 

"They look good. They've closed and there's no more signs of festering." She smiled and little and kissed the side of his head. "Thank the Gods." 

"Why, they didn't help much?"

"Sandor." She eyed him. "This is a religious village, we need to be respectful. Especially after all the help they've given us." 

"Hm," Sandor grunted, running his thumb over the thick, ugly scar that ran from her sternum to her shoulder. "You've been well then? While I was-?"

"I've settled in." She smiled reassuringly. "These are good people, they've been so kind to me. Please just...try to be nice?" 

Sandor was less than enthused but nodded. The last thing they needed was him making life difficult again. 

She smiled a little when he sighed and nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head to her chest. 

"Thank you."

"Mh-hm." He grumbled against her chest, appreciating the softness of her skin against his cheek until she pulled away. 

"Come on, time to walk." 

"Fuuuck" 

"Oh don't be such a baby." She rolled her eyes. "On 3. 1...2...go." 

The pain was awful, but if he kept most of his weight off of it, he was able to stand and walk slowly. It wasn't long before he was sweating and needed to sit, but it was a sight better than anything previously. 

He took up the majority of their tiny hut, but that was fine as they really only went in to sleep. 

Once Sandor had left the medical tent, Ray made his formal introduction. Immediately Sandor was on the defense, wary of strangers that boasted good intentions. 

"Mellina has been an invaluable addition to our little commune." The Septon informed Sandor. "She's wonderful with the children." 

Sandor grunted but nodded.

"A man of few words...I can appreciate that." Ray nodded back. "Do you share your wife's faith?" 

At this, Sandor eyed his wife in surprise. "I wasn't aware there was a faith to be shared." 

Mellina, peeling the skin off a rabbit, blushed. "Well, you know what they say. No atheists in a warzone, or something like that." 

"There are worse ways to find faith." Ray shrugged. "The Gods don't care how you find them." 

The septon left them and Sandor eyed Mellina critically. "What was that?" 

"What was what?"

"When did you become a believer?" 

"I don't know what I believe in." She shrugged.  "I know there's something out there, but I couldn't tell you who or what it is."

"Any port in a storm, I guess," Sandor muttered. "I hope you don't expect me to join you in your little charade." 

"Course not." She scoffed. 

Sandor stayed behind when Mellina went to Ray's services, biting back smarmy remarks when she covered her hair in a scarf in the style of the other faithful wives and made sure her chest was covered enough. 

"I can feel you staring." 

"Is a husband not permitted to stare at his wife now?" He snickered. "Or is that a sin too?" 

"Only if the staring is with lustful intentions." She purred, eyeing him knowingly. 

As she walked passed him towards the hut opening, now covered with a hanging curtain, he allowed the mischievous urge to snatch her by her waist and press her to his side. 

"Keep it up." He rumbled. "Cause as soon as this leg is healed, I'm going to remind the Gods of what a little whore you are." 

Mellina's face and chest flushed bright red, but she cast her eyes up at him through her lashes, her mouth drawn back in a provocative smirk.

"Pretty talk" 

"Have fun with the Gods." 

Now that he was able to walk, the healing seemed to speed up. After another month, his leg could bear weight for longer periods before it started aching. 

Sandor knew that, inevitably, he would be approached to help just as Mellina had when they arrived. 

He didn't resent it, if anything it felt good to just be doing something besides sitting around and waiting to heal. 

He didn't like being ogled at however, which wasn't easy when he could do the work of 3 men at the pace of one. He'd bitten off the head of more than a few men, but thankfully his capacity for labour prevented them from shunning him completely. But they certainly weren't rushing to introduce themselves. 

Often times he was able to see Mellina not far from him while working. Be it in the small patch of crops on the outskirts of the village or in the village center tending the half a dozen children that resided in the commune, she was rarely outside his line of sight. 

That was a comfort he didn't realize he needed until now. 

Even now, with everything quieted down, he felt an indescribable itch when he didn't know exactly where his wife was. 

He suspected she felt the same, as she often looked up from her work to track him with her eyes. As if she was making sure he was still there. 

Eventually, even her leaving the hut to attend Ray's services was too much anxiety, so he reluctantly began coming along. Arms crossed tightly and standing on the outskirts, his eyes never left her when she sat with the other women. 

They talked and laughed together, and in the gaggle, Mellina appeared to melt naturally with the other women. They spoke of the crops and their lives before the war, of how good it was to live without constantly looking over their shoulders. 

Sometimes someone would plop a squirming toddler or fussy baby on Mellina's lap, and her arms would wrap around it naturally, shushing the child while still listening intently to whoever she was talking to. 

"She's been a real treasure since you folks got here."

Sandor's face went immediately to stone as he cast a sideways glance at the smaller man beside him. Everything about him was round from his large stomach, to his ruddy cheeks, to his balding head that was encircled with brown hair. 

"My Penny says she's a natural with the babes." 

"Hm," Sandor grunted, at least acknowledging that he was listening. 

"Where you folks from anyway?" 

"Riverlands." Sandor lied shortly. 

"Ugh." The round man winced. "You folks were really in the middle of it then." 

"We did alright." 

"Well, you're safe now. We haven't had any trouble up here so far, and now that the war's over, things should be settling down."

Sandor didn't respond. 

"Well" the round man sighed, realizing this conversation wasn't going much of anywhere. "Good work today." 

"Hm."

The service ended after dark, the village glowing with firelight. 

Mellina poked at their fire with a sturdy stick, leaning against Sandor's chest when he pulled her against it and settled his chin on top of her head. 

"Did you enjoy the service?" 

"Eh." He shrugged dispassionately, "Did the Gods talk to you this time?" 

"They haven't deigned to introduce themselves." Mellina snickered a little, "but that's okay. Ray's interesting to listen to, either or without the Gods." 

"You think highly of him."

"I think you would too...if you got to know him." She nudged him a little. "He's impressed with your work with the men...he said we're welcome to stay permanently if we like." 

The offer hung in the air silently. 

Sandor let the idea melt into his brain before shrugging. 

"Maybe it's worth considering." He muttered. "You seem happy here." 

"Are you happy?" 

He shrugged. "As I can be, I think." 

"Hm." She turned to face him, legs circled under her as she tilted her head up to gaze at him before smiling. "We can stay then?" 

Sandor nodded agreeably. 

"We can stay." 

Chapter Text

They had been with the commune for almost six months now, and with Sandor fully healed, work on the village was progressing faster than ever. Their numbers grew with each refugee party that came through searching for new communities to join, and now their little sprinkling of half a dozen stone huts had grown into over 20 stone and thatch cottages. 

The healer's tent was now wood and stone, and the crop fields were dense and plentiful around them. 

There were even talks of building a formal Sept, so they could convene under a proper roof for Ray's morning and evening services. 

New from the outside world still managed to reach their ears, mostly through Ray and whatever newcomers passed through. 
The High Sparrow succeeded in situating himself in King's Landing and was slowly but surely spreading his gospel to the smallfolk. 

"They'll eat him alive," Sandor muttered. 

"No." Mellina shook her head. "No, not that one...there's something about him."

"Something good?"

Mellina shook her head again, grim-faced. 

War still lingered in the Riverlands, as the surviving brother of the Tully Family, Arya's uncle, held Riverrun against the Freys. It wouldn't be long before the Lannisters intervened, but for now, they fought among themselves. 

King Tommen had been wed to the eldest daughter of the Tyrell family; the sister of the pretty young man Sandor had saved a lifetime ago. She'd also been married to Joffrey, apparently, all of a few hours. 

Mellina tried to forget there even was a world outside of the village. It was easier, to focus on the little life they'd built in front of them. 
She tended the fields and the village children throughout the day, all while completing small tasks such as mending worn clothes, weaving baskets, and grinding grain into meals. 

If she had to be born poor, she thought to herself one day, I'd have much rather been poor in the country than in the city. 

Sandor's wounds had healed, and soon even his limp was correcting itself.  He spoke very little these days unless someone spoke to him first. More than once, Mellina had been asked if her husband even could speak. 

She'd often asked him what he was thinking of, for surely, he must be thinking something, but she rarely got a straight answer. 
Perhaps, she thought, he'd seen something in his long sleep. 
Perhaps something of the other side?

She posited this possibility to him one night and he laughed at her. 

"What, do you think I was chatting it up with the Soldier while I was laying there more dead than alive?"

"Well, I don't know." Mellina laughed back defensively. "You always seem like you've got something on your mind these days." 

"You give my mind too much credit." 

One day, when the winds of Autumn had started sweeping through the valley, Ray called them all with grand news. 

The High Sparrow had been appointed High Septon, and the crown had authorized the revival of Faith Militant. 

The more faithful among them celebrated this, but Mellina had to stamp down a twinge of unease. Promoting faith was one thing, enforcing it was another. 
But all the same, it was declared a small celebration was to be held at dusk in honor of The High Sparrow's ascension. 

"Sandor, where are we going?" Mellina laughed in a loud whisper. "We're supposed to be with the hunting party." 

"They'll do just fine without us," Sandor assured her, lifting a low-hanging branch for her to walk under. "Just keep going." 

Hiking up her thick woolen skirt, Mellina followed him willingly over hills and dales until they came upon a rocky cliffside on the far side of the valley. The village looked even smaller from his distance. 

"What the-?" Mellina looked around, finding nothing to justify breaking off from the group and trekking all the way out here. The winds blew her long hair into her face and she wiped it away with a frown. "Alright, what am I missing?" 

"Would it kill you to just trust me?" Sandor eyed her, momentarily disappearing around the rocks "It's right around here." 

Mellina rolled her eyes but indulged him. Walking around the corner, Mellina looked around expectantly but still only found more dull grey-blue rock. 

"Sand-"

She cut off with a yelp as she felt a pair of large hands snatch her further into the rock face, through a large crevasse, and into a cave. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, but soon they didn't have to as a pair of flints struck a spark that caught on a small tower of kindling. 

"Seven Hells." She laughed, looking up at her shadow dancing on the cave wall. "Sandor, what are we doing in here?" 

"I don't know about you," her husband pulled her down onto a pile of blankets he'd brought up a few days earlier. "But I am tired of trying to take you to bed with all those pious shits so close." 

He wasn't wrong, making love had become something of an operation being in such close quarters with other people at all times. They'd had a similar issue with Arya around, but Mellina had been hoping that once Arya was safely out of their hands, things would go back to relatively normal in that department. 

It's not like they hadn't fucked in semi-public spaces before; towers, stables, stairwells, etc. But eventually the thrill of possibly being overheard just turns into annoyance. 

With the small fire, the cavern was warm and intimate and Mellina was immediately eager. 
Stripping off her wool vest and overskirt and down her to brown shift and laced-up bodice, Mellina settled onto the blankets and nestled herself under him. He was just as she remembered, warm and heavy. 

Playfully she nipped at his lower lip and pressed her hips up against his rhythmically while his fingers pulled at the laces of her bodice and pushed it over her shoulders. 

Mellina's mind wandered back to their first night, in the lower chambers of Winterfell. The dark stone room had been unnaturally warm and welcoming. On that night, she promised herself that she would love her husband, despite the circumstances that brought them together.
She'd known then that her life would never be the same as it had been, but she hadn't known how quickly it would all spiral out of control. 

And now, here she was again. 
In a warm, stony chamber, preparing to make love to her husband for what for a moment felt like the first time. 

"We could try again." 

The words left her mouth before she even had time to consider them. When he pulled away, she was frightened he would say no. 
But he said nothing. 

"We could be happy here." She whispered, as if speaking it too loudly would jinx them. "We could be safe...we could start again. No Cersei, no Joffrey, no one to get in our way or complicate things."

She sat up slightly, pressing her brow to his as her fingers wove themselves through his hair. 

"We could have a baby...and he would be safe, and happy. We could just forget everything and try again with a clean slate." 

Sandor grunted, lowering himself to the blankets and pulling her to him tightly as he might when they had slept in the open and feared someone might come to snatch her away. 

"Life doesn't work like that, love." 

"It could." She whispered. "It might. There's still time."

"No." he breathed, "No, my love. Don't do that to yourself." 

It killed him to say it, but just as he should have done that day at the cottage near Harrenhal when she had looked up at him so pleadingly and asked that they stay a few more days, he said no. 

Mellina's grip tightened on him, her face buried in his neck as he felt her begin to tremble in his arms. 

It hurt, he knew it. It hurt him too. 

But she would be better for it. 
As much as they could pretend that the world outside the valley didn't exist, it was still there and still more or less in ruins. 

Cersei still breathed air, and the bounty on Sandor's head had not been lifted. 

Their safety was an illusion. 

"It's not fair." 

"I know." 

"I hate it." 

"So do I." Sandor nodded, his chin resting on her shoulder. "But hating it won't change things." 

Neither of them felt much like sex at that point, but still, there was freedom in the isolation of the cave. 

"I'm so tired." 

"So am I." 

When they awoke, it was past dusk. 

Slipping out of the cave, the festivities had started in the valley below. A large bonfire glowed brilliant yellow and orange in the center, and ant-like figures danced and whirled to the sound of far-off drums and pipes. 

"We should probably go down there." Mellina leaned on her husband's side. Her voice was small and hushed. 

"Probably." Sandor agreed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Come on." 

"Well, there you two are." Ray laughed when he spotted them on the edge of the village. 

The trek back down was far easier than going up, and Mellina was grateful for the darkness that hid the telltale puffiness of her face. She sat apart from the group and watched the fire quietly. 

Sandor found himself in desperate need of the relief of ale. 

Eyeing Mellina's unusually somber demeanor, Ray tailed Sandor curiously.
"You two look like the Stranger walked over your graves, what happened up there?" 

"Nothing." Sandor sighed, settling against a wall well away from the bonfire "Just...talked." 

"Woof." Ray winced, "A dreaded yet necessary part of every marriage." 

"Hm," Sandor grunted. "She'll be alright...it'll be fine." 
He said it more to convince himself than the Septon. 

"Are you sure of that?" 

"Yes, Sandor said firmly. "In the long run. Even if she hates me for it now." 

"Hm." Ray eyed him knowingly. "You know, it has long been the view of The Faith that the institution of marriage is, at its core, a partnership. Two people bring the best and worst parts of themselves together and try to balance each other out. The wife supports her husband, and vice versa." 

Sandor only half listened, humoring the old man. 

"But support, contrary to popular belief, doesn't always mean agreeing with each other, nor does it mean enabling someone when they're in the wrong." Ray eyed the larger man knowingly. 
"True partners support each other's efforts to do what is good and right for themselves and each other...even if that means telling them no to save them from heartache later...And even if you feel like the worst shit on the continent afterward. " 

Sandor stared at Ray, wondering if somehow the old man had been eavesdropping on their conversation. 

"If you're confident what you did was for the best, then one day she'll thank you for it...even if she's hurting now." 

They sat in silence for a moment until Ray's face cracked into a broad grin. 

"Now, if it's alright by you, I'm going go over there and see if I can't get a smile on that pretty face. It's a celebration, after all." 

Sandor silently nodded his blessing and watched with interest as Ray managed to coax Mellina from the sidelines and into the dance around the fire. 
She smiled despite herself, and after a few turns she even managed a laugh.
 Falling into a circle dance with the other women around the fire, Mellina's skirts fluttered and circled about her legs. Their shadows danced with them, long across the ground like ghosts at their feet. 

The celebrations come to a natural end in the wee hours of morning, as the bonfire burned down to embers that smoldered and winked in the darkness. 

Sandor and Mellina found their way to their stone cottage and nearly tumbled into bed. 
It seemed Mellina had forgotten her woe, if only for a minute. 

In the pitch blackness, they were a panting tangle of limbs and barely shoved to the side clothing. Mellina clung to her husband and whispered hushed encouragement as he rolled his hips against hers and stifled moans into her neck. 

Each tidal motion stretched and filled her until, at the last moment, she was left feeling painfully empty as he finished on the soft inside of her thigh. 
He'd made up for the disruption by lapping at her sensitive cunt with his tongue until she came with a moan muffled into her palm, her other hand gripping his hair tightly. 

It wasn't the same, and it wasn't as satisfying as it had been before. 
But as long as each night ended in the safety of their stone walls and thatch roof, bathed in firelight and surrounded by friends, she would not and could not complain. 

Chapter Text

Mellina gazed at the framework of the Sept on the hill as the sun came up over the horizon. 

At this rate, it would be finished before Winter hit them with all its strength. 

There was frost tipping the green grass and each breath was harkened by a puff of steam. Her wash water, heated over a small fire, warmed her skin and chilled before she had the chance to pat herself dry.

Combing out her thick hair, which had grown down to her hips since leaving King's Landing, Mellina braided it into a tight rope down her back. Wrapped in a shawl, she left Sandor still asleep and met the other women who rose with the sun as she did. 

In silence, sleep still in their eyes, the women baked the morning's bread and heated a hearty stew of vegetables and thick bone broth in a large cauldron over the fire. 

As the sun rose higher, their tongues loosened and soon they began chattering to one another as the men began to rise, followed soon by the children. 

Ray came out to greet them with his usual bestowment of seven blessings, and he began his morning sermon while they ate. 

When all were fed, some ladies with children separated to tend to their families. Those without ate their breakfast quickly and made for their chores. 

When the sun melted the frost, the men rallied themselves to begin working on the Sept once more. 

"I'll be by the stream," Mellina informed her husband, as was their morning custom. 

"I'll be in the woods." 

"Be safe."

Mellina and two other women named Mika and Sasha made for the wide stream outside the village, each loaded with a basket of clothes to be washed against the rocks. 

Without thinking, Mika fell into a hymnal from the Book of the Stranger that the other two took up as well. The tune was a sad one, and Mika wasn't sure she chose that one specifically this morning. It made her heart ache and part of her wanted to stop but her mouth was unwilling. 

The cold running water made Mellina's knuckles ache as she scrubbed the filth from the fabric, a small bar of lye soap on the edge of the stream by her knees. 

"Sing us another one, Mika." She sighed. "I have a feeling we'll be needing all the songs we can get with this cold."

"It's not so bad." Sasha shrugged. "It gets warm quickly. When it stops getting warm is the real trouble." 

Sasha was an older woman, a spinster who never felt the need for a husband or children. She sat on her heels and looked around.

"This summer lasted 10 years? Been Autumn for what, 2?" She shook her head with a click of her tongue. "This Winter will be a hard one, mark my words."

Mellina frowned. 

She'd seen winter many times in her life, the last time the cold winds came she had been 19. It lasted until she was 22. That had been an east winter in the walls of the Keep. 

But the winters she remembered the most were the grueling, terrible winters of her childhood. 

When she had no walls to hide behind, and her clothes were too thin to protect her from anything. 

She and the other street children often found refuge in the Sept of Baelor. The Septons would look at them with disgust and pity and toss them hard scraps of breath and thin watery soup. 

There would be fights over food and those who fought would be tossed out into the cold. 

Mellina hated Winter. 

Recently she'd been staring at their little stone cottages and wondered how they could possibly survive. 

But this morning she needn't worry about that. The sun rose and warmed the water and their skin, and settled her anxiety. 

With the clothes washed, they made for the village to hang out their washing and return the clothes they'd washed for others. 

The sun and wind would dry the clothes stiff and warm. 

The men passed them and Mellina spotted Sandor among them. They looked at each other, confirmed the other was still there, and continued their work. 

With the washing done, it was time to tend the crops and then start on lunch. 

The day rolled by without event until it was time to gather for the mid-day meal. 

It was then they were alerted to three riders without a banner headed their way. 

One of them dawned a bright yellow cloak, stained at the edges. 

"Seven blessings on you friends." Ray greeted them as the villages fell into uneasy silence. 

Mellina's hand found Sandor's arm and gripped him tightly. 

They knew those men, it had been over a year since they'd last met, but it was for sure them. 

"Where are the rest of them?" Mellina whispered. 

"Stay calm." Sandor's hand gripped the hammer he'd been wielding. 

The riders confirmed themselves to be with The Brotherhood but seemed to have split off from their group. They sought gold and silver, and when Rsy said they didn't have any, they asked for horses and weapons. 

All they had to offer was food. 

That wasn't true, of course. They had their fair share of weapons, but they didn't need to know that. 

"He should have just given them something and sent them off," Sandor growled. "They'll be back." 

"Maybe not." Mellina breathed. "Maybe they'll move on." 

Work went on as usual until the sun began to set. 

Sandor, awash with frustration, had taken an ax and began chopping lumber for firewood. 

Mellina eyed the tree line with her arms crossed, frowning. 

"He needs to come eat." 

Ray gave a small smile, "I take it he's in a mood." 

"It's just those riders, earlier." She sighed, shaking her head. "We've run into them before."

"You think they're dangerous?"

"I'm not sure." 

Ray sighed and took up a bowl of stew and a heel of bread. 

"I'll go talk to him."

Mellina was a bit jarred herself but tried to ignore it. Instead, she focused on getting the clothes off the line. Folding the shirts and trousers over her arm, Mellina breathed in the evening air and reached up to unclip one of her skirts from the line. 

As she did, she leveled her eyes on the horizon and felt her stomach drop. 

"No." She almost whined. "No, no, no, no." Dropping the clothes she rushed back to the town center where Ray was gathering them for his evening sermon. 

"They're coming." Mellina rushed Ray and grabbed the shoulder of his shirt. "They're back and there's more of them." 

Ray's eyes widened as he tried to keep his folk calm. The men took up arms while the women gathered up the children. 

"Where's Sandor?" 

"He's still in the woods, he's safe. You stay here." Ray shoved her into the center with the other women and took up a club. 

The riders flooded the town, 6 of them now rather than 3. Some Mellina recognized others she didn't. 

They circled the villagers on horseback before coming to a stop. 

"I told you, we don't have anything of value to you!" Ray barked. "Leave us in peace, we've done you no harm!" 

The one in the yellow cloak looked around with a laugh. "I thought we'd take a second look." 

Hopping off his horse, the rider looked around critically. "I'll give you one last chance old man. Tell us where the valuables are, or we tear this place apart. And I warn you..." he gazed between the circle of men into the crowd of women and children. "If you lie again and we find it...everyone here will die." 

Ray was cornered. Some of the children began crying and Mellina's stomach was a lead weight. 

Please, she begged silently. Please just give them what they want. 

Ray lowered his club and drew back his shoulders. "If I give you what you want, will you leave us in peace?" 

Yellow cloak nodded and Ray sighed before leading them into his own hut. 

Yellow cloak entered a moment and withdrew with a small chest of gold, no bigger than a book. He inspected it critically, passed the gold to one of the mounted riders, and nodded. 

"Kill them all."

Chaos erupted instantly. Mellina found herself jostled between the wall of men guarding her and the women who wailed and clung to their children fearfully. 

Someone shoved a babe into her arms blindly as one of the horses went down, creating an opening in the herd. 

"Run!"

She didn't know who gave the order, but she obeyed without question. Mellina, Mika, Penny, and a few other women all clutching children to them ran like mad out of the circle. 

Some were cut down the instant they left the circle, but others managed to get through and sprint past cottages and through the crop fields. 

The child Mellina held to her bosom wailed as she ran. Her chest and legs burned with effort, and despite the cries and the sounds of falling bodies around her, she never tore her eyes from the tree line. 

Get into the trees, she thought, horses can't gallop in thick woods. Go, go, faster. 

She cried out when she felt a splitting, burning pain in her side but she didn't stop. 

She screamed as loud as she could into the forest, wailing for aid along with the babe. 

The riders must have known what she knew because as soon as she made it into the thick woods, they stopped and returned to the village. 

Mellina stopped running, tears streaming down her face as she turned and watched them go. She could make out the bodies of her fellow runners splayed out in the grass and as hard as she listened, she heard no crying save the child in her arms. 

The burning in her side worded and she reached down. 

Her fingers found smooth wood and feathers. 

An arrow. 

Pushing off the oncoming pain, Mellina made her way deeper into the forest. 

Sandor. She had to find Sandor. 

Leaning against a tree, she choked on sobs and pushed forward. 

Keep going....just keep going. 

The further in she went, Mellina heard a sound. 

Footfall. 

Fast footfall. 

"Sandor?" She cried out weakly. "Sandor!" 

"Mel!" 

His large silhouette came over a hill and down quickly. In one hand he carried the ax he'd been using to fell trees. She nearly burst into tears at the sight of him. 

"They came back." She croaked, "Sandor they came back, they started attacking the village, I don't...I couldn't-!" 

"Fuck." Sandor eyed the blossom of blood at her hip and the arrow sticking out of it. "Where's Ray." 

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I don't know, someone just gave me a child and told us to run and I just ran I don't...I don't think the others made it." 

Screams filled the distant air and Mellina sobbed, leaning her head against the tree. 

"Stay here!"

"No!" She lunged for him, jostling the child and sending it crying again. "No, don't leave, please!" 

"Mellina, stay here!" He pried her finger from his arm and sprinted for the village. 

Mellina sobbed and tried to slow her breathing as she looked down at the squalling baby. 

"Shh, sh, sh." She whimpered. "We got away, we got away, don't worry." 

She tried to place this one. 

It was a little boy, about a year old. 

Penny. 

This was Penny's baby. 

What was his name again? Willis? Willam? 

"Willow." She sniffed. "Willow, Willow, we're okay. It's okay." 

It wasn't. 

It was nearing dark when Sandor returned. He was pale, as still in hand as he moved in harsh, jerky motions. 

"Sandor?" 

He shook his head grimly, "All of'em." 

"No." Mellina trembled. "No, no, that can't..." 

"I saw it with my own eyes." He cut her off. "I saw it! No one is left." 

"Maybe others ran in a different direction." She whispered. "Made it to the wood. Maybe Penny-"

"Penny is dead." 

She froze. 

"Her and her husband, both of'em" Sandor wiped his face with his hand and closed his eyes. "Can you walk?" 

She nodded. 

"Come back to the village and I'll fix that arrow." He breathed. "Then you stay here...and I'm going to make this right." 

"I'm coming with you." 

"No, Mel." 

Mellina growled and grabbed his arm. "Every time we are apart, something horrible happens. Every time!" 

She curled her nails into him like claws.

"Please..." she sniffed. "Don't leave me alone again."

Chapter Text

Mellina's hip burned like all seven hells had taken up residence in her wound. 

Using what was left of the medical supplies, that which hadn't been utterly destroyed, Sandor had done a passible patch job. The arrow hadn't hit anything important, and it had missed her bones. Once the bleeding stopped, she would be fine. 

"Which way did they go, do you know?"

"I imagine back the way they came. East?" She pointed toward the corner of the sky that was starting to darken. The babe was wailing, and Mellina hushed him gently, casting her eyes up at Sandor. "You know what needs to be done." 

Sandor nodded. "Can you stand?" 

She did so and held Willow to her breast, bouncing him. 

"See if you can find some food for him, I'll go." 

"I told you; you're not leaving me." Mellina snapped, "Besides, Penny still had him on the breast." 

"Well, there's not much you can do there." 

Mellina shook her head and began rummaging through the medical supplies. "No, it's possible to bring milk back. Lots of women did it in Flea Bottom to make money as wet nurses. I'm almost certain there was some here, Mika used it when her milk dried."

"Somewhat?"

"Lyander." Mellina muttered. "It's an herb." 

And there was, but only a little. It had been strewn across the ground with other herbs and medicines that had been destroyed. 

She winced as she bent to gather as much as she could and stuff it into her pockets. 

Sandor, admittedly not knowledgeable enough on the subject to argue, took up the axe and pointed east. "That way?" 

"That way." 

Mellina walked away behind her husband, not straining to keep up with both a baby and a wounded him. As long as she could see him, she felt safe. 

That was all she needed. 

As they walked, she ran over the steps to bring back her milk in her head. She'd seen her sister do it, and she hadn't even been pregnant. Chewing on the slightly sweet, earthy leaves, Mellina offered her breast to the babe and began to massage it as Willow took to her nipple naturally. 

"Come on, Come on." She muttered. 

It took about 30 minutes of walking, but eventually, milk did come. It wasn't much, but it came. 

Willow and nature did the rest of the work. 

"There." Sandor stopped, "Hear that?"

They paused and heard the laughter of men not far in the distance. 

"Go." Mellina's voice was hard, "Don't let them get away."  

Sandor took off, leaving them behind to follow at Mellina's own pace. As she climbed the hill, baby still at her breast, she looked down on four men sitting around a fire who hadn't seen Sandor yet. 

She recognized their faces from the circle of horses. 

When two of them spotted Sandor, they began to run while the other two turned around. 

The first and youngest one's head came clean off with one swipe. Mellina descended the hill, watching coldly as her husband dispatched the other two and got the remaining man on his knees, blubbering. 

"Fuck you!"

"Those are your last words, fuck you?" Sandor asked incredulously. 

The man paused, his mind racing to say something clever for the first time in his life. 

"Cunt!"

Sandor frowned, almost disappointed. "You're shit at dying, you know that?" 

The man's skull caved like a soft melon. 

Mellina approached, eyeing the bodies as she tucked herself back into her bodice and bounced the baby to burp him. 

"There are 3 missing." 

Sandor growled but nodded. "We'll find them when the sun comes up. You're hurt, and it's too dark to see shit anyway." 

Mellina nodded and sat at the fire the men had been tending, poking at it with a stick. It was dying. 

Of course, they didn't even know how to tend a fire, she thought bitterly. 

Sandor was able to bring the flames back up and sat next to his wife with a tired sigh. 

"Were you able to feed him?"

"Uh-huh." Mellina nodded. She should probably be more upset, but for the moment she just felt numb. 

Why did this always happen?

Just when everything starts going well, it always seems to go down in flames. 

"How's the hip?"

"Hurts." 

Sandor nodded, feeling just as numb as his wife. He draped an arm around her waist and let out a tired sigh. 

"What's the kid's name again?"

"Willow."

"Any family?"

Mellina smirked a little, casting him a knowing look. "What do you think?" 

"Of course." He nodded. 

They didn't say much after that, simply falling asleep and rising to Willow's cry at sunrise. 

Mellina fed him, her supply thankfully refilling overnight, and they kept moving. 

By mid-morning, they finally found their quarry. 

Unfortunately, they had been beaten to the punch. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Mellina rolled her eyes at the right of Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr, who were preparing to hang the three remaining brigands. 

At the sight of Sandor and his axe, the men drew their weapons. 

"Clegane." Thoros almost laughed, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Chasing them, you?" Sandor growled, preparing for disappointment, but not without a fight. 

"Hanging them" 

"Any particular reason?" 

"They're our men. Or they were." Beric stepped forward, "They attacked a nearby sept and killed all the villagers." His eye passed from Mellina to Sandor curiously. "Why do you want them?"

"Same reason," Sandor confessed. "I was helping build it." 

"They killed our friends." Mellina glared at each man set to hang hatefully. 

"Didn't know you two had friends," Thoro smirked but it fell when Mellina stared at him with a cold, piercing gaze. 

"We don't anymore." 

He eyed her up and down, taking in her limp and the baby at her breast and for a moment he looked almost sympathetic. 

"They're ours," Sandor growled, advancing on the men as if to cut them down so he could gut them himself. 

"It's the brotherhood's good name they've dragged through the mud." Beric cut him off, but Sandor was unphased. 

"Fuck the brotherhood and fuck your name." Sandor. "I killed you once Dondarrion, I'm happy to do it again." 

At the threat, one of Beric's men whose name Mellina didn't bother to remember drew back an arrow. 

"Drop that arrow, you bloody girl" Sandor snapped without bothering to look at the archer. "Tougher girls than you have tried to kill me."

Beric looked unphased when Sandor got closer, nearly nose-to-nose with the knight. 

"No one kills my friends and puts an arrow in my wife, just to be killed because they insulted your stupid fucking name." 

Beric considered this a moment. "You can have one." 

"Two. One for her, one for me" 

Thoros and Beric shared a look before nodding. "Fine." 

Mellina could be satisfied with two and nodded to Sandor, who choked up on his axe. 

"No, no, no, we are not butchers." Thoros admonished them. "We  hang  them." 

"No," Mellina spoke up. "There's no punishment in hanging, not if you do it right."

"Their punishment is death, my lady." 

"Not good enough." 

"I'll just gut one of them." Sandor offered but Beric shook his head. 

"We gave you 2 out of 3 out of respect for your loss. That's generous." 

Mellina and Sandor shared an incredulous look before sighing. 

"Fine, hanging it is." 

Mellina chose hers, a red-bearded one with a beer gut. 

"You're the one who tried to ride me down," she said plainly, as if saying the sky was blue. 

The man didn't say anything, but he was sweating from fear. 

"You know there was a time I would have killed all seven of you, just to gut these three." Sandor sighed and Thoros chuckled. 

"You're getting old, Clegane." 

"Hm." Sandor stood. "He's not." 

He kicked the barrel out from under his pick, the handsome yellow-cloaked one. He came down quickly and his neck snapped. 

All over in an instant. 

All eyes turned to Mellina who still stared up blankly at her pick.

Putting her foot on the barrel, she did not kick as much as she lazily pushed it out from under him. 

He did not get the privilege of a snapped neck. 

Instead, he danced on the end of his rope until his face was purple and his eyes were bulging out of his skull. His tongue, swollen from lack of air, poked between his blue lips. 

Mellina watched this with interest for a good 5 minutes, holding one hand up to stop one of Beric's men who would have interceded to end the man quickly. 

Willow's tiny, pudgy hand reached up for her with a coo and she looked down on him with a smile. 

"Alright, fine." She sighed and the archer put a quick arrow in the man's heart. 

Beric kicked the barrel out from under the last man, who also died quickly. 

"Have you anything to eat?" Mellina asked Thoros, bouncing Willow gently. "They didn't leave us much by way of supplies." 

The Brotherhood was kind enough to feed them but at a cost. 

"We could use a man like you." 

"I tried joining." Sandor gave a sardonic smile. "Didn't work out for me." 

"Clegane," Thoros said in that tone he used when he felt he was about to say something very wise. "We're all here for a reason. He is keeping Beric alive for a reason; he gave a failed drunk priest the power to bring him back for a reason." 

Mellina struggled not to roll her eyes. 

"And he put you in this village for a reason." Thoros eyes Mellina and looked pointedly at Willow. Mellina, picking up his meaning, almost looked disgusted at the implication. 

"We're all here in service of something larger than ourselves." 

"Lots of horrible shit gets done for something larger than ourselves," Sandor scoffed. 

"Cold winds are rising in the North," Beric informed him and Mellina sighed. 

"And you're going to go beat them." She muttered, "I see where this is going."

"We could use good men to help." 

"The last time you saw me, you tried to execute me." Sandor pointed out incredulously. 

"Aye, true enough." Beric nodded. "The Lord gave you the power to beat me, why?" 

At this Sandor actually laughed, starting to figure Beric really was a lunatic. 

"I beat you because I'm better than you, Beric." He said plainly. "I was better than you before you started yammering about your Lord, and I'm better than you now." 

"Probably true." Beric agreed, "You're a fighter, and you tried to leave the fight. How'd that go for you?"

"I am not listening to this." Mellina scoffed, feeling her anger rising from somewhere deep in her stomach and to keep from exploding she rose the fire and walked further down the edge of the lake. 

Fuck Beric, she told herself bitterly. What a self-righteous son of a bitch, him and Thoros. 

The Lord has a plan for all of us. 

And that plan involves the slaughter of innocents? Her baby died so she could be there to take care of her dead friend's baby? 

What kind of fucked up fairytale was this Lord of Light trying to write? 

Willow, as if sensing her frustration, began to squirm and fuss at her shoulder. 

"Shhh, sh, sh," She hushed him. "It's okay, I gotcha." 

"Are you well, My Lady?"

Mellina frowned and contained a groan of frustration. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? 

"All my friends are dead, I now have a baby that I have no idea what to do with, we have no place to go, and now you are trying to convince my husband to ride north to fight snow demons." Mellina turned on Thoros, her face tight with tension. "So, no. No, Thoros, I am not well." 

Thoros smiled a little and Mellina shook her head. "No, stop." 

"Stop what?" 

"Whatever cryptic words of wisdom you think you're about to unload on me that will somehow solve all my problems, I'm not in the mood." She shut him down immediately. "I'm really not. If you don't mind, I'd actually really like to be left alone." 

Thoros looked as if she had snatched out his tongue but nodded. "As you wish." 

"Thank you." 

Mellina sighed when he left and she sat on the edge of the water, looking out over it blankly as she tried to swallow the frustration that she had neither the time nor the power to deal with. 

The familiar sense of exhaustion that she hadn't felt since she'd sat with Sandor at the bottom of a cliff waiting for him to die began to creep into her bones. 

She felt like she wanted to fall asleep and not wake up until she was old and grey. 

"Mel?" 

"Hm?" 

Sandor eyed his wife carefully, starting to understand what Thoros meant when he stated Mellina looked "at the end of her rope with a 50-foot drop beneath her." 

"About...going North." 

"Your call."

"What?"

"That's your call." She shook her head. "Too many of my decisions have led us to this point, and I'm tired. So, if you want to go north and fight some snow beasts, or whatever the fuck, let's do it." 

She sat up a little and eyed the baby in her lap, "We're going to have to figure out what to do with him though." 

"We never did talk about it." Sandor agreed, sitting next to her. "We can't keep'im you know."

"Yeah, I know" Mellina sighed, "Considering we are proving to be on the worst run of bad luck imaginable...I think he'd be better off." 

"Beric said there was a town nearby." Sandor sighed. "May be able to find someone to take him there." 

"Think they'll lend us a horse?" Mellina quirked a brow. "My hip still hurts like a bitch." 

"I'll take'im." Sandor sighed. "You mean it? About going north?" 

"Sure." She shrugged, "It's not like we have anything better to do." 

Chapter Text

There was something about being the only woman in a traveling party of men that felt distinctly unsafe. 

There were 9 of them in all, and when calculating their odds Mellina started keeping a knife strapped to her hip and another strapped to her thigh. 

"You know I'd never let anything happen to you." Sandor almost seemed defensive when she voiced her concern. 

"That's a potential 7 on 1 fight. 7 on 2 if they have the decency to wait until my hip is healed first." Mellina shook her head. "No, I don't like those odds." 

She kept her demeanor cold and unwelcoming, not allowing any of Beric's men to think they had even the slightest chance of slipping into her good graces. 

You give an inch with some men, and they will take a mile. 

Thoros, however, continued to make himself a nuance. 

"How is the fair Lady Clegane?" 

Mellina glanced up sharply from the large hare she was skinning and frowned. 

"Mellina is fine." 

"Well," Thoros settled on a log near her with a groan. His body was unsteady and his eyes hazy. "As you wish. How is the fair Mellina?" 

"Fair Mellina is going to lodge this knife in your leg if you don't fuck off." 

"Such venom." Thoros was unmoved. "I see your heart has not softened since our last visit in the West." 

"When you tried to kill my husband?" Mellina leaned back and examined the scruffy, disheveled priest incredulously. She caught a whiff of heady wine on his breath and rolled her eyes.  "No, Thoros. No, it has not. Certainly not for you." 

"The Lord of Light looks favorably on those who learn to forgive." 

"And if I ever meet your Lord of Light, I will have some choice words for him too." Mellina stripped the hare's skin off in one clean jerk and stood. "Don't talk to me when you're fucking drunk. You're bad enough sober." 

Thoro's head rolled on his loose neck as she slipped past him and he grumbled under his breath. 

"May Rh'lor inspire your husband to do us all a favor and give you a reason to smile...or at least give your mouth something to do." 

The crack of wood against skull echoed through the woods as the fallen branch broke over Thoro's head. 

While the wine numbed the pain, the priest still fell off the log and into the dirt and fallen leaves. 

"Keep fucking with me and you're going to be meeting your God a lot sooner than you might like," Mellina growled, kicking him swiftly in the stomach while he was down before storming off toward the camp. "Fucking drunk." 

Sandor passed his wife with a load of kindling under his arm, watching her storm through the brush irately before passing off the skinned hare to Beric. 

"If you want your pet priest to keep bringing you back, I'd suggest keeping him the hell away from me." She growled to the one-eyed knight, shoving the meat into his hand before stalking off. 

"The fuck happened there?" Beric eyed The Hound as he dropped the firewood into a messy pile. 

"Only one way to find out." He grumbled, tracking his wife through the small camp and out the other side to the edge of the tributary they had settled by. "Mel?" 

With her back to him, Sandor spotted to slight shake of her shoulders as her grip on the bark of the tree she was leaning on tightened. It wasn't until she let out a shaking gasp that he realized she was crying. 

Immediately he was on defence, certain something must have happened to pile on their already precarious tower of tragedies. 

As his arm encircled her waist Mellina allowed herself to lean on her husband and covered her weeping eyes with hands curled into claws. 

"Ssssh sh sh sh." He breathed. "Come. Come on, love." He led her further down the river's edge until there was a patch of trees and brush separating them from the brotherhood. "What happened?"

"I can't do this." She buried her face into his chest and clung to him as if someone might try and tear her away. "Please, I can't, I can't, I can't." 

"Okay," Sandor breathed, half-worried she'd finally gone and cracked on him. She was trembling like a leaf under his touch "Hey, breathe. Breathe." 

She did, more panting than breathing but it seemed to steady her enough to speak. 

"Aren't you tired?" She breathed as he settled them on a grassy knoll and pulled her closer to him so she was practically in his lap. "Aren't you tired? Because I am so, so, tired." 

"Of course I'm tired," Sandor assured her. "I'm fucking exhausted, and so are you. But the world doesn't give a fuck how tired we are, so you need to pull it together." 

Mellina sniffled, resting her brow against his shoulder. "I give a fuck." 

Sandor sighed. 

He couldn't argue with that. 

The night around them was dark and gave the illusion of seclusion. This far from the camp without the light of a fire, they were simply two shapes nestled in the landscape like every other rock or tree or clod of dirt. 

"Do you ever wish you'd died before this?" She whispered. "You've had so many people try and kill you...do you ever wish one of them succeeded?" 

Of course, he had. 

Sandor looked up at the star-filled sky, contemplating the last time he had found himself wishing some stupid knight had gotten lucky and landed a killing blow. Or, even further back, even wishing it had been him Gregor had killed instead of their younger sister. 

But there was no point in wishing because it hadn't turned out this way. And, somewhere deep in his chest, there still lingered that animal urge to survive. 

"Once or twice." He confessed. "Do you?" 

Mellina thought back on all her close calls. 

The harsh winters of her childhood. Laying prone and feverish in the basement of some brothel as a Septon prayed for her soul at 16. Her body coursing with poison as the woman she loved and had hoped loved her waited for her to either miscarry or die, whichever came first. 

"Sometimes." She confessed. 

Sandor's grip tightened on her, pulling her almost over his shoulder as his thick legs caged her in. 

"What can I do?" 

"I don't know." Mellina's tears began to dry on her cheeks. "I don't know. I can't think. It's like someone set my brain on fire and it's still trying to work, but it's all char and ash and keeps breaking." 

Sandor didn't know what to make of that, but he had a vague idea of what to do from here. If she would allow him. 

"Then don't think." He muttered finding her hand and threading her fingers through his. "Don't, just...let me take care of you for a while."

Mellina frowned, not understanding. 

"You said it was my call if we go north. It's my decision for both of us." He pressed his mouth to her brow, pulling her closer. "You've been at the reigns since I got knocked off that rock, it's no wonder you're exhausted. Let me lead for a while." 

The very idea made Mellina's spine melt. "Really?" 

"Course." 

Fresh tears began to spill down her face as she reached out to find his lips in the dark and kiss them. 

"I love you." She breathed, rocking her hips against his slowly as she deepened the kiss. "I love you so much." 

Sandor grunted against her lips, large hands finding her hips and grinding her down on his growing hardness. 

Her breasts were still tender and sensitive from nursing Willow, but her milk had dried and Sandor tugged at the laces of her bodice until it was loose enough to slip her large breasts over her neckline. One hand found the mound of soft flesh and squeezed, relishing the feeling of her skin pillowing between his fingers as he groped and massaged with rough hands. 

"That's my girl." He breathed, free hand coming from her hips to her hair and freeing her braid from the twine holding it together so her curls fell over her shoulder and tickled him as she pressed against him. "Beautiful girl." 

"I need you," Mellina whined. "Please?" 

 "Patience," he hummed, rolling them in the grass so he was on top of her. "You'll get it, I promise." 

She was like soft clay in his hands, malleable and pliant. She spread her thighs for him and hiked her dress and layers of small clothes and undershirts up to her waist, laying herself bare and willing before him. 

Sandor exhaled a deep, lustful rumble as one hand found the soft curly patch of hair over her slit. Spreading her lips, his fingers found the gathering wetness of her cunt and spread her slick juices up to her clit. 

His low voice sent a shiver up her spine. "Already so wet for me."

Rubbing circles with the pads of his fingers, Sandor stroked her clit and contained a moan of excitement when Mellina let out a high, keening cry for him. 

Part of his mind, the fiendish and petty part, wanted her loud enough that the men through the trees couldn't help but hear. 

But she was having a hard enough time without him embarrassing her.

"Hush, love." He hissed. "Unless you want those idiots to come investigating." 

Mellina pulled her lips in to seal up any noises as Sandor pulled her against him and slipped behind her so her back was against his chest. 

"Good girl, now keep those soft little legs spread for me." 

His fingers returned to her clit as his other hand went to her breast, massaging her flesh and tweaking her aching nipple. 

In the dark, her vision obscured by shadows and her mind buzzing with excitement, Mellina leaned her head back against her husband's shoulder and allowed herself to be vulnerable to his rough, thick fingers. 

When two fingers pushed into her body, Mellina let out a shaking breath and was rewarded with Sandor's mouth sucking at her pulse point as he pumped his fingers into her and stretched her eager cunt. 

"That's right, don't think about it." A gentle pull at her sensitive nipple made her jerk and squirm back against him. "Just lay back and take it." 

When she began to clench and pulse around his fingers, Sandor knew she was close. 

Not surprising, they hadn't truly made love in weeks, and she was so keyed up from everything that had happened, that it was a miracle she wasn't a dripping, quivering mess the moment he pushed her legs apart. 

Slipping his large hand from her breast to her throat, Sandor pinned Mellina against him and began to finger her roughly the way he knew she needed. Her small hands found the legs of his trousers and made tight fists as her hips bucked against his hand as he muttered teasing praise in her ear. 

The stretch of her walls and the way he brushed against the deepest parts of her cunt even with just his fingers flung Melling over the edge and she had to muffle her moans with both hands as she came helplessly on his hand. 

"That's my sweet girl." His touch became gentle again as he tilted her chin up to kiss her before pushing her onto her knees. 

Fumbling in the dark, he slipped his leaking cock from the confines of his trousers and prodded at her soft, slick entrance. 

There was a certain power in it that he enjoyed. In the knowledge that despite being on the edge of oblivion only moments ago  and teetering dangerously, Mellina could still be reduced to a mewling, panting slut. Presenting her cunt to him with her face to the ground and back curved so he could hit every spot that would have her dripping and trembling around him. 

That's all she needed. 

Mellina couldn't fully stifle the whimper she let out when he pushed into her fully with one slow stroke, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against her cervix. 

He curved an arm under her hips to support her before fucking into her at a merciless pace. 

The sounds of the night, of frogs and night birds and beasts were overshadowed by the steady slap of flesh striking flesh and the obscene squelching of Mellina's desperate cunt welcoming the punishing treatment. 

Each thrust flashed stars in her vision and Mellina could do nothing but allow her body to be pulled against him, her back flush against his chest as Sandor's hand slipped over the folds of her skirt to rub her clit while pounding into her from behind. 

From this angle, he could pull her down roughly, his cock bottoming out with each thrust until Mellina felt her end approaching quickly.

"Please." She gasped in a high whisper. "Don't stop, I'm so close. Please, please please." 

She hardly had to ask, but the knowledge that her end was near only drove her husband forward, bouncing her on his cock until she went rigid and grasped for him desperately, muffling her wails in her mouth as he fucked her through her orgasm. 

When it seemed she had returned to herself, Sandor bent her back over, allowing her to rest her chest in the grass as he directed her hips back against his cock, practically using her limp and blissed-out body to finish himself off until he came with a choked grunt and flooded her cunt with his cum until she felt it leak out of her and drip down her thighs. 

Still buried in her body, Sandor pulled Mellina against his chest, panting. Scattering kisses on her shoulder and neck, Sandor thrust back up in her and chuckled at her overstimulated whine. 

"Oh, come on. You're not ready to quit yet." He insisted, groping her breasts. She whimpered, her hands coming to his but not pulling them away as he rolled her softened nipples back to hard peaks with his fingers. 

"Now, here's what you're going to do." He instructed her carefully, sparing no detail lest she have to do any pesky thinking. 

"You're going to fix your dress, stand up, and walk back to camp. Don't talk to anyone, don't even look at them if you don't want to. Find a spot by the fire. I will be right behind you the entire time." 

She kissed his gratefully, pulling her bodice back up and tightening the laces before standing. 

True to his word, Sandor loomed like a shadow over her shoulder as she picked a spot by the fire and waited for Sandor to settle before making her spot between his legs silently. 

"Everything alright, my Lady?" Beric eyes them curiously. "You seemed quite rattled." 

"She's fine, Dondarrion," Sandor answered for her. "Let it go." 

"I was speaking to-"

"Well now you're speaking to me," Sandor cut him off with a bark. "Aren't you?" 

Dondarrion gave a disapproving glare but didn't press the issue further. 

Mellina silently gave her husband's leg a grateful squeeze. 

Chapter Text

Leaving the safety of their little hamlet in The Vale, they found that much had happened in the year they had been done. 

"Sansa Stark has been married to the son of Roose Bolton," Beric informed them and Mellina's stomach dropped to her knees. 

"The bastard?" She spoke, drawing the attention of all. 

"Ah, so she does still have a tongue." Thoros chuckled. "Not a bastard anymore, legitimized."

"Do you know of him, My Lady?" Beric looked back at her. 

Mellina pressed herself to Sandor in heavy discomfort and nodded. "Lord Bolton brought his bastard to King's Landing once." She explained grimly. 

"You don't sound too fond of the memory." 

"He was about 15 or 16. We were the same age, I remember because he asked that a servant girl be brought to his room." She recalled her first year in the palace when she was still a grubby kitchen wench under Varys's employ. 

"I was picked to go to him first, but when I went up he just sort of looked at me and then he sent me back. Said he wanted someone younger." 

His eyes had been so cold, even then as a teenager. It was like there was nothing behind them, not even a soul. He looked at her in what was almost confusion, clearly dissatisfied.

"I went back, and they sent someone else. A girl named Polli, she was only 12. And no one saw her for days. We all wondered but no one asked." 

"What happened to her?" 

Mellina swallowed, her mind conjuring up the memory of the child's body. 
"They found her dumped behind the stables after Bolton left the city. The blood was still fresh, so he must have done it before leaving so she...she'd been alive the whole time. She didn't look like the same person, bits of her had been flayed or chopped off. I felt guilty because I was so glad he'd sent me away." 

"I remember that." Sandor spoke up suddenly, "When they found the body. Everyone was on alert after that and then eventually it was like everyone just...forgot." 

"It's always been that way with highborns." One of the men spoke up, a resentful grumble in his voice. "Even their bastards can get away with murder so long as their father cares about keeping the family name unblemished." 

"If I had to guess, some poor idiot without a penny to his name got blamed." 

"No." Mellina shook her head. "No, she was just a kitchen wench. They didn't go through the bother of pinning it on anyone or hiding the truth. There was no one to appease with a false conviction."

Mellina's stomach tightened at the idea of sweet Sansa yoked to such a beast.

But there was nothing to be done about it now, Winterfell was miles away and the Boltons were the Lannisters' creatures. Even Roose Bolton himself entered a marriage alliance with the Freys. 

The further out of the Vale they marched, the colder it got. And the flatter the land around them grew, the more settlements they came upon. 

Most of them abandoned, their former tenants deciding to flee the oncoming Winter. In them they found little food remaining, but they took what they could find, that which was edible. 

After a week of riding, her hip became accustomed to the ache and she stopped suffering in silence. 

It's funny, how quickly people can build a tolerance to things. 
Something that seems entirely out of the question one moment may become completely acceptable in the next if one is pushed hard enough. 

A week passed, and soon the looted and burned settlements became little more than part of the scenery. She hardly even looked at them anymore, unless it was to determine if they might contain something useful like weapons or supplies. 

If they passed travelers, displaced farmers, and beggars in search of some greener pasture, she glanced at them only until she had determined they weren't a threat. She might have worried for them once; whether or not they would find shelter before nightfall, if they had food, if they were injured. 

But she hadn't the energy for that right now. Now she could only focus on moving forward. 

Beric's men had stopped trying to engage her in conversation and for that she was grateful. She did not wish to speak unless necessary, her strength was better directed elsewhere. 

Particularly she had found comfort in her own mind. 

She would never tell Sandor, he would think she'd gone mad, but much of her time was now spent delving deep into daydreams. 

She dreamt of her siblings, of where they might be now and what their lives were like. In her mind, they were all still alive, and they were always happy. They had spouses of their own and children as well. When meeting her they were always pleased and proud of where she'd ended up, and how far she'd come. 

She daydreamed of what might have been if she'd gone west like Sandor wanted. 
Of how she might have grown to enjoy being the lady of a knight's keep and learning how to manage the estate and tenants. 
She would be a mother, a proper mother. 
Her son would look like his father and grow strong. Maybe in time, if kept away long enough, she would even forget the queen. 

Part of her always wanted to imagine Cersei as she'd thought her before everything went to hell, but even in fantasy, Mellina couldn't suspend her belief that far. 
She'd been an idiot not to see it sooner, and she'd been an even bigger idiot to think that even if Cersei could be cruel, she'd never be cruel to her.
 
"Mel?" 

"Hm?" She blinked, finding herself back on the horse, her arms wrapped around her husband. 

"Look." Sandor pointed off into the distance and Mellina followed his fingers to a large farm just off the main road they were on. 

It was hauntingly familiar, even encased in frost. 

"Oh," she breathed shakily. 

"What do you see? A farm?" Thoros, listening to their conversation, followed her gaze and alerted Beric. 

"There's nothing there for us," Mellina said instantly, the idea of getting within a mile of the farm twisted her guts sickeningly. "We should keep moving." 

"Even if there is nothing for us, night is coming." Beric shook his head. "a shelter is a shelter, and with any luck, the farmer will still be around and willing to provide aid." 

"No," Mellina whispered, gripping Sandor. "Do you think...You said they-"

"I might have been wrong," Sandor muttered. "At any rate, we haven't much choice now. Just keep your hood up." 

The closer they got to the farm, the more barren it became. The windows in the house were dark, and the air was silent as a tomb. 

Beric knocked on the door and found it unlocked. As he pushed in the others began to dismount and search for whatever supplies they could get their hands on. 

Mellina held her breath. 

She didn't know what would be worse if the farmer emerged from the house and immediately recognized them, or the alternative. 

"Lord be merciful" Beric emerged, shaking his head. He was pale and grim-faced. "Everyone settle in...the farmer won't mind, not anymore." 

Mellina's stomach dropped and without thinking she slid off the horse. 

"Mellina-" 

"I need to see." She whispered harshly, keeping her hood over her head as she pushed through the front door. 

The house was like a monument, everything had been left exactly as it was. The table was set, and the hearth was dirty with the remains of a fire that had burned itself out. 
Stepping slowly, as if to avoid disturbing the peace, Mellina followed the tracks of snow Beric's boots had left until she found an open door. 

She pushed it open slightly and let out a shaky gasp, covering her mouth with her leather gloves. 

Had it not been for the gore, she might have thought them asleep. 
The little girl's throat had been opened cleanly, likely as she lay asleep. Next to her, her father lay on his back staring at the ceiling. His throat was opened in the same manner but with less grace. His hand was likely hindered by pain and the body's natural impulse to survive. 

Their bodies were gaunt and sickly, not from the natural decay of death but from hunger whittling away at their flesh until there was next to nothing left. 

"Don't look." 

She felt a hand jerk her out of the room, away from the sight. She expected to find Sandor, ever her shadow trying to protect her from the cruelty of the world. 

Instead, she found a thin, bearded face with sad watery eyes staring back at her. 

"He killed her." Mellina breathed. "He killed them both." 

Thoros looked back into the room to confirm her claim and shook his head sadly. 

"It was a kindness."

"A kindness?" Mellina shuttered incredulously. 

"Aye." The priest nodded, stepping away from her. "Kinder than starving to death." 

He began to walk away, back to the others while Mellina lingered behind and looked back into the bedroom at the pair. 

"We should bury them." 

"The ground is frozen." 

"Then sharpen the shovel." 

Thoros stared at her a moment, taking in her pale features that had hardened with time. She looked so much older than she had in the West. Her rosy complexion was ashen and her bright eyes seemed to be twin pits of darkness. 

She frowned deeply and stormed past him, her shoulder knocking into his hard as she did. 
"I'll do it myself." 

She found a long-handled shovel and a file in the barn, blatantly ignoring everyone around her as she filed the shovel's blade until the edge shone practically like new. 

"What are you doing?" 

She paused only a moment before sighing. "The right thing." 

Sandor nodded, watching her continue to file until she was satisfied the shovel could cut through the frozen ground. 

"Here." He sighed, taking up the tool. "Find a spot, you shouldn't dig with your hip." 

Mellina stared at him, her face softening slightly before nodding. 

In the end, she picked a place on the hill behind the house, facing the east.

 While Sandor dug the grave, she went back into the house and stood over the farmer and his child for a moment. 

Her heart panged painfully as she wiped her tears. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry...I wish I could've....I shouldn't made him come back and...Oh Gods, forgive me." 

"My Lady?" 

Mellina stiffened, wiping her face as Beric entered behind her, eyeing the bodies. 

"I heard from the men you're burying them." 

She nodded. "It's the decent thing...even if they died with nothing, everyone deserves a proper burial." 

Beric nodded. "You won't be able to carry him." he nodded to the farmer and Mellina shook her head. 

"I can manage. He was skin and bone when he died." 

"I'll do it." The one-eyed knight insisted. "You bring her." 

The child was like a feather in her arms, her entire body stiff from rigor and cold. Mellina wrapped her in one of the blankets on the bed as a makeshift shroud and had Beric do the same with her father before carrying them up the hill. 

There was only one grave, both for practicality and because they all agreed the two of them likely wouldn't want to be separated in death. 

By the time the hole was filled, it was past dark and the wind whipped snow into their faces. Beric, Mellina, and Sandor stood around the grave stoically.

"Someone should say something." 

"I could ask Thoros to-"

"No." Mellina shook her head. "They were of The Seven, they wouldn't want anything else." 

Beric nodded and looked back barn, the windows alight with the fire the men were keeping alive with scrap timber. "I will leave the two of you to it then." 

"I don't remember the words, do you?"

"No." Sandor shook his head and Mellina sighed. 

"Maybe it's the sentiment that matters." 

"Aye, maybe," Sandor nodded, eyeing the mound of dirt contritely. "I...I am sorry. For what happened. If I could go back I would, but the truth is I'm not sure if it would have made any difference. But we'll never know now and...and for that I am sorry. You deserved better." 

He left it at that and Mellina could think of nothing to add. Instead, she reached down and gripped his gloved hand in hers. The wind whipped around them in the darkness, lashing their faces with their hair as they stood in a moment of silence, both forced to consider what might have been if things had gone just a little differently.