Chapter 23

"So this was not one of my better days," Sandor said in a very sarcastic voice, picking up his own blade.

As the two brothers sheathed their swords, Gregor glared down at Sandor and stated critically "Did you forget everything I taught you while I was gone?"

"No," Sandor mumbled in annoyance, "But would it have mattered if I did? 'Cause I wouldn't have been the only one who forgot something important."

Now Gregor was confused. "What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember?" Sandor responded crossly, "Nearly eight years ago, you opened my eyes up to the harshness of the world. You startled me at first. But then you comforted me and shared with me words of kindness. Words that have stayed with me ever since."

"Any specific words?" Gregor inquired.

"Yes, five in particular," Sandor informed him, "'I'll be there for you.' Those were your own words, and I'll never forget them. It seems you have, though."

"I have not," Gregor asserted, "I meant them then and I still do. Don't think I'm going back on them simply because I'm going away for a while. You can be there for someone without being there physically."

Sandor scoffed and spat angrily "Oh, don't give me that 'being there in spirit' shit."

"I won't," Gregor contended, "I'll still be there for you, Sandor. For you and everyone we loved. I'll be building a legacy for House Clegane. A legacy that you can be a part of."

"I don't care about any godsdamn legacy," Sandor claimed. His anger began to fade at this point. He let out a faint sigh and mumbled "Why did you have to kill Amory Lorch?"

"Because he would have killed Princess Elia," Gregor answered bluntly, "In that one act, he would have made us an enemy of Dorne. Instead, I've made them our ally."

"Was it worth making a potential enemy of Tywin Lannister?" Sandor snappily retorted.

"Yes," Gregor replied without any pause, "Lord Tywin may be the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and the Warden of the West, but he is not infallible. He may see what I did as disobedience. I see it as the prevention of a huge mistake. He's just too pompous to admit it."

Sandor then looked around the area, and he cautioned his brother "Gregor, you should be careful about saying things like that out in the open. Lord Tywin's spies could be listening."

"What do I care?" Gregor said nonchalantly, "He's no longer my life lord."

Sandor chuckled at that. By now, his anger appeared to have subsided. He gazed up at the Mountain and suggested hopefully "Can't I go with you?"

"Believe me; I'd love to take you with me," Gregor proclaimed, "If I could, I would. But it would be irresponsible of both of us. With me dispossessed, you're now Father's heir. You represent the future of this house. Aside from that, you're practically a man now. You must choose your own road in life."

Sandor spent a minute pondering on those statements. There was both wisdom and advice to be found in them.

Both of which could be very useful if he heeded them. After a minute, he lightly shrugged and admitted "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Gregor conceded, grinning.

He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and told him "I'm counting on you to manage the keep well in my absence. I expect it to be in a far better state when I come back."

"What if you never come back?" Sandor supposed.

"I will," Gregor proclaimed sternly.

"You don't know that," Sandor theorized, "For all we know, this could be goodbye."

"Yes, it could," Gregor acknowledged, "But goodbye doesn't mean forever."

'As David Gates would say.'

Although he had quoted a popular song from the late 1970s, that sentence seemed to have a soothing effect on Sandor.

He finally yielded to his brother's logic, and he stated "You're right, Greg. I guess I spoke too soon. I'm probably just being negative."

"No, you're considering the worst," Gregor pointed out, "There's nothing wrong with having low expectations, but you'd do better to have high hopes while I'm away."

"I'll try," Sandor assured him, "Anything else I should keep in mind?"

"Yes," Gregor disclosed, "I want you to find a good marriage match for yourself. More importantly, find a good marriage match for Ellyn, too."

Sandor scoffed and bluntly remarked "Our sister is seven, Gregor."

"Our mother was seven once, too," Gregor reminded him.

Sandor scoffed again and rolled his eyes, saying "Somehow, I doubt Grandfather Lewys was already planning on marrying her off at that age."

"You know what I mean," Gregor sardonically stated, "Just find a decent husband for Ell when she's of age. You get a decent wife for yourself, too. Now that you're the future of this household, you'll need heirs of your own."

"I suppose I will," Sandor admitted. After a brief lapse of silence, he murmured "Alright, I will. So long as you do, too."

"Hmmm?" Gregor uttered, uncertain what his brother was implying.

"If you're starting another house up in the North, you'll need heirs, too," Sandor apprised him, "You shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to give you some. I hear women in the North fight alongside the men. You might end up wedding and bedding one of them."

"It's possible," Gregor alleged, "But let's not rush ahead of ourselves. I'll be all over Westeros these next several years. I'll meet many houses and their members. I'll become acquainted with plenty of highborn ladies. Whoever my bride turns out to be, she could come from anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms."

"No, I'd bet you your other thirteen thousand dragons that she'll be a Northwoman," Sandor hypothesized.

Sandor did not have the gold to match Gregor's, so that wager was meaningless. Besides, he was mostly just making a jape when he said that.

Still, unbeknownst to Gregor, Sandor's jape would turn out to be somewhat prophetic; the Mountain's future wife would indeed be from the North.

---------

Gregory Welch was born in Seattle; the eldest of five children. He and all his siblings had been raised there for the entirety of childhood.

Neither of his parents was a native of Washington. They had moved there shortly before Gregory was born.

Most of his father's family was from Michigan, and most of his mother's family was from New York.

A couple times each year, he and his family had gone out-of-state to visit some of those relatives.

Despite those traditional semi-annual vacations, Gregory had never been anywhere south of Nebraska until after he turned eighteen. In all that time, Seattle had been his only true home.

Similarly, Gregor Clegane had rarely ever left the Westerlands before his eighteenth name day. His first notable exceptions were his recent journeys through the Crownlands and Dorne.

That reflected one of the events of his previous life in more than one way. For his college education, Gregory earned a full scholarship to the University of Texas at Austin. He subsequently moved to central Texas and lived there for the next four years.

As for his studies, his major was in Criminal Justice – Law Enforcement, and he minored in Psychology.

For all his life, he had been driven by a strong sense of morality and a desire to work for the greater good.

Growing up, he had always imagined himself holding a job that involved upholding harmony and security in the country.

That was what primarily led him to apply to the CIA. He had sent in his application the year before he graduated college.

The process of applying to the CIA was a long, exhaustive, and somewhat tedious one. The interviews, background check, and personality tests proved to be especially trying.

But Gregory felt they all paid off when he finally received a phone call from a CIA recruiter, informing him that his application had been approved.

After he earned his Bachelor's Degree at UT Austin, Gregory moved once more. This time he relocated to Virginia, where the CIA headquarters was situated.

The shortest route from Austin to Fairfax went almost directly northeast. It took less than two hours to get there by airplane.

The route between Clegane's Keep and Moat Cailin also went northeast.

Interestingly, the distance between those holdfasts was substantially smaller than the distance between Austin and Fairfax.

Unfortunately, travelling by air was not an option.

Plus, the straightest path went directly through a swamp. There was no telling what could happen in there, even if the crannogmen offered safe passage.

The best method of travel was to go by horse. So getting from the keep to the moat was actually much more time-consuming.

The move to Moat Cailin took the Mountain and his company nearly a month to accomplish.

The easiest part of the journey was definitely the first stage, when they rode through the Westerlands.

They knew those lands, after all. Once they entered the Riverlands, the going was considerably slower.

As Gregor recalled, relations between the Westerlords and the Riverlords were fragile, even before the War of the Five Kings.

As such, Gregor saw the most ideal course as the one that involved as little contact as possible with the locals. So he and his convoy steered clear of all villages, holdfasts, and castles in the Riverlands.

Gregor was especially careful to avoid the Crossing. He had no desire to go anywhere near the Twins, if he could help it.

****

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