Chapter Twenty Seven: Clandestine Arrangements

At the very same instant, the bedding ceremony was well underway. By the time the guests carried the bride and groom to the bridal chamber, both of them had been clad in only their smallclothes. Once there, Sandor Clegane and Obara Martell were deposited inside.

After taking a minute to shut and lock the door, Sandor turned his attention to his new wife. Already, she was laying on the bed, striking a lusty pose. She gazed at her husband with what he classified as her "Dornish seductiveness." She wordlessly beckoned him over.

That was enough for the Hound to catch his bone.

The bedding lasted for about three hours. The people standing outside or beneath the chamber could verify that. That was how long the noises could be heard, at any rate. Even so, Sandor did not give a fuck how long the bedding went on for. Time actually seemed to lose meaning when he held Obara in his arms. And when he was inside her.

It was well after midnight when the future lord and lady of Clegane's Keep finally drifted into a deep slumber. It was the most restful night of sleep Sandor had gotten since before the Ironborn attacked Lannisport.

Sometime after midmorning, Sandor awoke rather abruptly to a throbbing sensation originating from his groin. As he sleepily opened his eyes, he gazed downward. When he discovered the source of the disturbance, he smirked.

Obara had her lips wrapped around his manhood. She was sucking vigorously on his morning wood.

What a thing to wake up to.

The former Sand Snake quickly realized her husband was conscious, but she did not relent. Nor did he ask or gesture for her to stop. He just laid his head back down and moaned in arousal. She kept increasing her pace overtime. The harder she sucked, the louder he moaned.

It only took Obara five minutes to bring Sandor to climax. After he hit his peak, she removed her mouth from his cock and swallowed everything it had released. Sandor just smiled and placed his hands behind his head.

Obara wiped her mouth and laid down next to Sandor again. She was on the right side of the bed, so she saw the burned half of his face. That may have bothered some, but Sandor knew Obara was not repulsed by his scar.

She probably never was.

"How was that?" Obara queried.

"The best wake-up call I've ever had," Sandor slyly commented, tracing his hand along her left breast.

"Just as I hoped," Obara impishly remarked, caressing the dry skin of her husband's right cheek, "You know, we could have been doing that long before today. If someone hadn't insisted on waiting…"

"It was more at the insistence of my mother that I abstained," Sandor debated, a wry grin on his face, "In some parts of the world, people actually respect their mothers' wishes."

"If I did that, I wouldn't be here," Obara muttered bluntly.

"I know; you told me," Sandor murmured.

Your father told you to pick between his weapon and your mother's, and you chose the spear over the tears.

That turned out to be the right decision.

Sandor then took his wife's hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. Then he stated "Now that we've been joined, I won't deny you any longer… Princess."

He expected Obara to scowl, groan, withdraw, or feign the act of slapping him. That was what she had done every other time he had addressed her by that title.

Surprisingly, this time, she gave no apparent negative reaction. For a few seconds, she just looked him in the eye with a neutral countenance. Then she gave a small smile and admitted "I think I actually could become accustomed to being called that."

Now that's something I never thought to hear her say.

"Truly?" Sandor asked, thinking he may have misheard her.

Obara nodded her head a bit, and then she expounded "But only by you, and only when we are alone."

"I can accept that," Sandor conceded. He paused and added cheekily "Princess."

She just giggled.

The bedchamber's window was open. It faced the south, but based on how the light flowed in, it had to be around ten o'clock in the morning. More than two hours later than when Sandor and Obara normally awoke.

"We should probably get up and head downstairs," Sandor proposed.

"As you say, my lord," Obara agreed. She and her husband pulled themselves out of bed and proceeded to dress themselves. Although she had worn a gown the night before, Obara did not feel the need to continue wearing that form of apparel. As she slid on her normal pair of leather breeches, she asked Sandor "Are you hungry?"

"Somewhat," the Hound replied as he put his jerkin on over a white tunic, "What about you?"

"Well, I just ate," Obara Clegane wittily told him.

Sandor snickered and stated humorously "Indeed. Are you interested in another 'course?'"

"I certainly wouldn't mind a second helping of what I just had," Obara uttered slyly, wrapping her doublet over her breasts. Her stunning breasts.

"You can have one later," Sandor asserted, fastening his trousers around his waist, "I'd prefer to eat something that I did not make myself."

"Very well," was Obara's simple response.

By that point, the Hound and his princess were both fully clothed. Neither of them had bathed since before their wedding, but other than their activities following the feast, they had done nothing that warranted one. At least, that was their belief.

We can take one later. Maybe together. If so, I could give her that 'second course.'

The moment they stepped outside the bedchamber, they came face-to-face with a brown-haired man. He was Zedric Sarsfield, the man who had replaced Erryk Ruttiger as the castellan of Clegane's Keep.

"Hello, Zedric," the Hound greeted him warmly.

"Good morning, my lord," the castellan bade his master's heir. He looked to Obara, dipped his head, and added in "My lady."

"Zedric," she said in response kingly.

"I assume you wish to break your fast?" Zedric proposed.

"You assume correctly," Sandor affirmed, "We did not keep anyone waiting, I hope."

"As it happens, you did not," Zedric revealed, "Your parents and siblings have already broken their fast."

"So the Main Hall is empty?" Obara asked rhetorically.

"It is," Zedric replied, "And it most likely will remain as such until the midday meal. Today, you will be served the morning meal in your father's solar."

Interesting…

"Why might that be?" Sandor inquired.

"Ser- pardon, Lord Tarrence requested that you both come to his solar as soon as you were up," Zedric Sarsfield elaborated, "He has a matter of precedence to discuss with you."

"So be it," Sandor acknowledged, "Go ahead and have the servants prepare our breakfast. Obara and I will head to the solar."

Zedric nodded, bowed his head, and headed down the corridor.

Sandor and Obara remained at the door of the bedchamber for another minute longer. Obara must have noted the perplexed expression on her husband's face. She murmured in concern "Sandor? Are you alright?"

He hastily turned to her and claimed assuredly "I am fine, Obara. Come; my father awaits us."

To his relief, his wife said nothing; she merely followed Sandor through the holdfast's hallways.

In actuality, Sandor was not entirely truthful when he told his wife that nothing troubled him. He was not exactly anxious about anything, but he was a little troubled by the prospect of breaking his fast in his father's solar. When last he had done so, Gregor had announced that he was leaving Clegane's Keep.

Sandor and his wife soon arrived at the keep's solar, expecting to find Father there.

He was indeed there, but he was not alone. Mother too was there, and so were Gregor, Ellyn, and Dacey. For whatever reason, Ser Gerion Lannister was present, as well. They were seated in six of eight chairs that had been placed around the desk. All of them smiled at Sandor and Obara entered. They both smiled back, but almost straightaway, Sandor could feel that the aura in the room was not wholly a happy one. That struck him as curious.

"Sit down, please," Father beckoned his son and his new daughter-by-law, gesturing to the two empty chairs.

Sandor and Obara promptly took up the two vacant chairs. Once they were settled, the Hound gazed around at the others. Their smiles had faded, replaced by expressions lined with apprehension. He enquired nervously "Is anything amiss?"

"We'll tell you once your food arrives," Mother claimed in assurance.

Her younger son and his wife found that arrangement fair.

Within ten minutes, a pair of servants brought their breakfast. After setting it in front of the Hound and the former Sand Snake, they departed from the solar, making certain to close the door behind them.

As Sandor and Obara began to eat, Gregor leaned forward and asked them "Enjoy last night?"

"Very much," Sandor answered him, chewing on a large piece of bacon

"In many ways," Obara stated wryly, peeling a blood orange.

"Yeah, we heard," Dacey mumbled cockily.

Good. Then we were doing it right.

Instead of saying that, Sandor chuckled. So did Obara. The former of them gazed as his brother and goodsister, and he contended "We couldn't have been any louder than you two were."

"I'd say not," Ellyn commented as Gregor and Dacey blushed lightly, and Obara chuckled again. After a pause, the Clegane daughter mumbled sullenly "All else aside, you two must've enjoyed last night more than the rest of us did."

Sandor found that statement a little baffling. He asked his sister "How do you mean?"

"That is what we are here to discuss," Father disclosed. He waited for everyone in the room to be silent and give him their attention. Then he explained to Sandor and Obara "After you were taken away for the bedding, Lord Tywin made his second announcement of the evening. Like the first, this one was centered on the future of House Clegane. But unlike the first one, it also involved the potential future of House Lannister."

As Sandor salted and bit into a hardboiled egg, he asked in interest "And just what did he have in mind for the future of our house and his?"

"Something none of us could have foreseen," Gregor revealed ambiguously.

Mother provided some clarification to that remark: "Lord Tywin was keen to point out that our house is now the only noble one in the Westerlands that has never wed into House Lannister. Determined to 'remedy' that problem, as he claimed, he suggested another contract."

"Between whom?" Obara queried, biting into an orange segment and a piece of buttered bread.

It was Ellyn who responded this time. She sighed and pronounced "His son Lord Tyrion… and me."

At that moment, Sandor had been in the midst of taking a swig of ale. Once he heard his sister's reply, he sputtered into his mug, spilling some on the table. He managed to swallow what was in his mouth, but he coughed violently at being forced to down so much liquid at once.

Obara patted him on the back to help him steady his breathing. Once he stopped coughing, he gave her a brief look of appreciation, and then he turned to Ellyn and muttered in astonishment "What?"

"Lord Tywin seems convinced your sister and the Imp would be a good match," Mother apprised him.

Sandor had not reacted as he had because he was disgusted or flabbergasted by Lord Tywin's proposition. He had done so simply because he had not expected it.

Evidently, no one else here did, either.

"How did you respond?" Obara asked the very question that was on her husband's mind.

"I begged some time to consider his offer," Father disclosed, "He 'generously' agreed to grant that favor. By the time the tourney at Lannisport begins, he will want an answer."

"Six bloody days from now?!" Sandor pointed out crossly, "That is hardly enough time to make a decision of this magnitude!"

"Alas, it is all the time we have," Gregor solemnly informed his brother, "We must use it wisely."

"Quite so," Father conceded, "By the time we leave this room, we must have arrived at a decision on whether or not we will go agree to Lord Tywin's offer."

Obara appeared both stunned and slightly angered by that declaration. She heatedly muttered "My lord, you cannot honestly mean to consider delivering your own daughter to that monster."

To her credit, she at least tried to sound respectful. Even so, Sandor and the others were alarmed by her angry remark. Especially when given the apparent meaning of it. He told his wife patiently "Obara, Tyrion Lannister is many things, but he is definitely not a monster."

"I know, and I apologize for my outburst," Obara calmly said to everyone, not just to Father or her husband, "But you should know that I was not speaking of Lord Tyrion."

It only took a moment for realization to come to Sandor and everyone else there. Mother cautioned her gooddaughter "Obara, you mustn't say such things. Lord Tywin is not a man to take slights lightly."

"Be that as it may, Lady Daliah, she is correct," Gerion Lannister interjected, "My eldest brother is a monster, and anyone who claims otherwise is a lackwit."

Again, everyone was taken aback by a very eloquent comment. Sandor noted Gregor did not seem to disagree with Gerion's. Neither did Dacey. Of course, the two of them had spent much of the past few years with Ser Gerion in the North. So either they already knew of his feelings towards Lord Tywin, or they shared them.

It could be both, but I'd lean more to the latter.

Sandor had to agree with the three of them. He had been Lord Tywin's squire for the past few years; he had seen him at work. While he himself had been fortunate enough to avoid incurring his liege lord's wrath, he had often stood witness when the lion lord implemented his form of justice. What was regarded as justice at Casterly Rock was often seen as cruelty throughout the rest of Westeros.

But just because Lord Tywin is a monster, I could not say the same of Tyrion. I don't think anyone could.

"So what shall we do?" Sandor queried in genuine interest.

"Gregor recommended that we go over all the possible advantages and disadvantages of accepting or refusing this union," Mother illuminated, "As well as all the… personal factors involved. We all must have some input to contribute. That is why every member of our family is present."

"And Ser Gerion," Obara noted, looking to the blond man.

"It was also Gregor's idea to have Ser Gerion here," Dacey revealed.

Gregor nodded in confirmation and debated "All things considered, he's the only true ally we have from House Lannister."

"Believe me, Gregor," Gerion Lannister pronounced, "After all you've done for this country and its people, and after serving with you, I would choose you over Tywin any day."

Gregor must be honored. By his brother's prideful expression, the Mountain have been quite touched indeed by Gerion's words.

"Alright," Sandor remarked as he and Obara continued eating, "May as well begin our discussion now. Where do we start?"

"Well, let us say we refused the match," Mother conjectured, "Obviously, we'd need to supply a reason."

"We could merely claim we do not think our house worthy of his son," Sandor proposed.

"Tywin would never buy that," Gerion argued, "Given how readily Tarrence accepted his lordship, he would expect him to be similarly thrilled by the prospect of joining House Clegane to House Lannister."

"Furthermore, Lord Tywin hates false modesty," Gregor pointed out, "Almost as much as he hates true modesty."

"Could you claim you've already got a betrothal planned for Ellyn?" Obara suggested.

"That's an even worse idea," Father refuted, "While we have been considering some potential suitors for her, we have not so much as contacted any of them. It would take far too long to even arrange a meeting with one of them, let alone negotiate a marriage contract. Lord Tywin would insist on knowing who we had in mind for Ellyn, and once he realized we were misleading him… I shudder to think what he would do.

"Well, Tywin has no tolerance for liars," Gerion commented.

"What if we say Ellyn is too young?" Dacey contended.

"He would say she will grow, and that the marriage could wait," Gregor disputed, "In fact, he may say that she'll be old enough to wed once she's bled for the first time,"

"It happens that I had my first moon's blood last month," Ellyn informed the others.

Sandor was astounded to hear that. Based on their reactions, Gregor, Gerion, Dacey, and Obara were, as well. Mother and Father did not react, which suggested they already knew. The Hound eyed his sister and mumbled "And you did not tell us of this sooner because…?"

"It wasn't really your business," Ellyn proclaimed frankly.

"It is now," Gregor countered. Yes, it is. Girls have been known to marry at younger than thirteen.

"We cannot claim Ellyn does not wish to marry, either," Mother noted, "Lord Tywin would just say marriages are supposed to be done out of duty, not out of desire."

"Then I suppose our only available alternative is to refuse for… the obvious reason," Father disclosed.

Sandor stared at his Father as though he had gone mad. After hearing that last remark, Lord Tarrence may as well have had the sanity of Aerys II.

Gregor shared his shock and disbelief. "You propose we refuse the marriage contract on the grounds that the groom is a dwarf?"

"It's been done before," Mother explicated, "Lord Tywin once offered Tyrion to the second daughter of the Lord of Riverrun. Hoster Tully denounced the offer as an insult."

"In my mind, it was an insult," Gregor irately debated, "But not to Lord Hoster."

Father appeared dumbfounded by that comment. He questioned incredulously "What do you mean by that, Gregor?"

"Have you met Lysa Tully, Father?" Gregor snapped somewhat angrily, "I have, and just being in the same room as her made me uncomfortable and edgy. I wouldn't wish her hand on anyone, including Tyrion Lannister."

"In case you've forgotten, she's the wife of the Hand," Mother needlessly reminded him.

"I know," the Mountain muttered indifferently, "And I deeply respect Lord Arryn for his patience and endurance."

"You could tell him that when he arrives for the tourney," Dacey cockily proposed.

"I've more tact than that," Gregor humorously told his wife.

We're getting a little off-topic here.

"Back to the issue at hand," Gerion Lannister advised the others, as though he had read Sandor's mind, "I am very much against the concept of using the fact that Tyrion's a dwarf to dissuade Tywin."

"So am I," Gregor coincided, "That's probably the worst solution we've thought of so far. Lord Hoster had the privilege to call the match between Tyrion and his daughter an insult, but only because he is the head of another Great House. THIS house, however, is one of his vassals."

"You're right, I suppose," Father admitted, "Lord Tywin would not be pleased if we all but called his son a freak. Especially so soon after raising us to lordly status. He would call us 'ungrateful.'"

"You might say he's backed us into a corner," Dacey contended, "In recent years, both branches of House Clegane have been recognized throughout the country for their tolerance of everyone. People believe we are accepting of all. But if we refuse Lord Tyrion merely because he is a dwarf… our image would be seriously damaged. People would call us hypocrites and condemn us for being so shallow."

Sandor was impressed with Dacey's argument. Mainly since everything she said was the truth.

"Apart from that…" Gregor began tentatively. He gazed around the solar, and he continued with "In the long run, are there really any benefits to turning down Lord Tywin? I mean, even if he agreed with our refusal, imagine what the other Westerlords would think. The lesser houses might be led to believe we thought ourselves too good for House Lannister, and – by extension – for them, too. The noble houses might think the same."

"Well, that's their problem," Sandor argued. By now, he and Obara had cleaned their plates.

"It's also ours, if no one else in the Westerlands will have Ellyn because of it," Gregor contended.

"Couldn't I just marry outside the Westerlands?" Ellyn proposed, looking back and forth between her brothers, "Both of you did, after all."

No denying that.

"And just who from the other Kingdoms would you see yourself with?" Gregor inquired.

When Ellyn was unable to give a response, the Mountain smirked and stated "Then let's focus on the local prospective match that has been offered."

"No matter how we do it, refusing Tywin seems to yield bad results," Obara perceived, "Perhaps there is a way to turn him down discreetly and peaceably. If so, it may come to us later. But until then… maybe we should actually give the other approach some thought."

That's surprising, coming from the one who wanted to protect Ellyn from the 'monster' at Casterly Rock.

Despite what he thought, Sandor was not averse to this proposal. Neither were Gregor, Obara, or Dacey. Father and Mother appeared more than a little skeptical and unwilling. As for Ellyn… she was practically unreadable.

"Alright, let's discuss the possibility of accepting Lord Tywin's offer," Mother conceded, "Where would that bring us?"

"Well, for starters, you'd be marrying into the wealthiest house in the Westerlands," Dacey pointed out, "Perhaps even the wealthiest house in the country. That by itself is a benefit."

"That may have been a compelling enough reason five years ago," Father disputed, "But money is no longer a concern of ours. Particularly after what Sandor brought back from the Ironborn rebellion."

True that. Maybe someday it'll be Lord Tywin who wishes to borrow from us, not the other way around.

"Still, House Lannister has more to offer than wealth," Obara notified the others, mainly her sister-by-law, "Tyrion is by all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms Lord Tywin's his heir. Imagine what influence you'd have as Lady of the Rock."

"That sounds appealing," Ellyn admitted, "But it would come with a lot of risks. I mean, remember what happened to the last Ellyn Lannister and her family?"

"Of course we do, sweetling," Mother asserted, "Actually, that could be a sign, seeing as the last Lady Ellyn Lannister did not meet a pleasant end."

Sandor had heard this story many times before. Tytos Lannister had had an elder brother, Tion Lannister, who had wed Lady Ellyn Reyne of Castamere. Lord Tion had died childless, leaving the title of lordship to Tytos. Nevertheless, his widow Lady Ellyn had made a daring and foolish attempt to hold on to her power as Lady of Casterly Rock.

And we all know how that ended. The Rains of Castamere were not just a couple of light showers.

"All you have in common with Ellyn Reyne is her given name," Father informed his daughter, placing his left hand – the unstable one – on his daughter's shoulder, "You were not named after her. So there is no reason to believe you'd share her fate."

"We would never let that happen to you," Gregor assured his sister.

"I know you wouldn't," Ellyn pronounced, placing her hands on her lap, "But that aside... this seems too much a burden to cope with. I mean, I didn't ask to be Lady of Casterly Rock. I don't want to be Lady of Casterly Rock."

"In all probability, you won't be," Gerion apprised her.

Sandor looked to the blonde and asked in perplexity "How so, Ser Gerion?"

Gerion Lannister told the seven Cleganes "Tywin has no intention of passing the Rock to Tyrion. He is hoping that Jaime will be released from his vows to the Kingsguard, or that he will find another wife who will give him another son. If neither scenario transpires, he is content to pass lordship on to our brother Kevan, who would then give it to our nephew Lancel."

"What possible reason would he have for that?" Father inquired, astounded.

It was Gregor who answered: "Lady Joanna Lannister, Tyrion's mother and Tywin's wife, died in childbed. For that, his father has never forgiven him. Neither has his sister, the Queen."

Yes, Lady Joanna died birthing a dwarf, whereas our mother delivered three babes who were all twice as large, and she survived in perfect health. That just shows which the stronger bloodline is.

"So, Lord Tarrence, Lady Daliah, I hope you weren't expecting your daughter to be the wife of the future lord of Casterly Rock," Gerion commented straightforwardly.

"The thought was tempting," Mother professed, "But at the end of the day, it may be better if Ellyn married a member of House Lannister besides its heir."

"I agree," Father proclaimed, "We are still a relatively young house, and we were only just granted lordly status last night. If a member of our family was to wed the Westerlands' next Lord Paramount so soon after… the older noble houses – and the lesser houses which have yet to wed into House Lannister – would almost certainly come to resent us."

"And the last thing we need is the ire of the other Westerlords," Obara surmised.

"Exactly," Gregor concurred, "This could put us in an ideal position."

"In terms of prestige and overall standing, I agree," Mother uttered plainly, "But we have yet to discuss Lord Tyrion himself."

"Discuss him how, Mother?" Gregor inquired.

"Think on this, Gregor," Lady Daliah Clegane beseeched her firstborn, "If we accept, we'd be establishing a contract between Ellyn and a man who is at most three-quarters her height. That by itself is disconcerting. But that is not Tyrion's sole defect. I… I have heard he is hideous. His face alone is a horror to behold."

Sandor grimaced at that. He leaned forward and barked "Have you looked at my face recently, Mother?"

Mother went pale in her own face. She hastily tried to retract her last statement. "No, no, Sandor! That's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean?!" Sandor sharply retorted, "Tell me."

Daliah Clegane was at a loss for words. She had not seen Sandor that angry in a very long time. He knew she had not meant to offend him, but he was disappointed in her for making such a shallow observation.

Ultimately, Mother lowered her head and mumbled "I'm sorry. I did not mean to imply I was disgusted by you or Lord Tyrion."

"You've done nothing to warrant forgiveness, Mother," Sandor asserted, "I won't deny that Tyrion is ugly. Neither will he. He is not ashamed of being a dwarf. Instead, he's embraced it. Just as I have embraced my scar."

"That's rather mature of you both," Father contended approvingly.

I'd call it optimistic.

"I don't care if Lord Tyrion's attractive, and neither should any of you," Ellyn drily murmured, "I just want to know what kind of man he is."

"I could tell you plenty on that, dear sister," Sandor told her, smirking.

"So could I," Ser Gerion claimed.

"And I, as well," Gregor put in.

For the next hour, much of the conversation was controlled by the two Clegane brothers and the Lannister knight. They spent most of that time divulging what they knew of Tyrion Lannister. Gregor and Gerion both knew a fair deal of the Imp's early life, but Sandor was the one who knew the most about his post-childhood years.

Sandor and Tyrion had become fast friends during the former's time at Casterly Rock. He told his family and Ser Gerion all about their experiences together.

Sandor's visits to the Rock had been frequent and mostly work-related, but he and Tyrion always found some time to mingle with each other. In the Hound's mind, Tyrion was almost nothing like his father. He was just as intelligent as his father, if not more so, but Tyrion held none of Lord Tywin's ruthlessness and utter disregard for ethics.

Indeed, beneath that gruesome façade and mismatched physique, there was a compassionate, decent young man of unrivaled wits, tremendous cunning, and commendable chivalry. He would never be a warrior like his elder brother, but not all men were destined to wield a sword.

Sandor told his family everything about his time spent with Tyrion, including a certain incident that occurred a few years back.

A number of months before Gregor and Dacey wed, Ser Jaime Lannister had been given leave to return home for a few weeks. He had spent much of his furlough with Sandor and Tyrion. On one particular evening, the three of us had been riding on the crossroads when they encountered a young woman being pursued by a group of would-be rapists. The three of them had rushed to her defense. While Tyrion gave the girl his cloak to cover herself, Sandor and Jaime each managed to kill one of the assailants before the others fled.

Jaime had been determined not to let a crime so close to Casterly Rock go unpunished. So he had chased after the remaining attackers. Sandor would have joined, but the Kingslayer had ordered him to escort Tyrion and the girl to safety.

They ended up taking shelter in a nearby inn. Sandor had mostly kept to himself, but he had observed the chemistry building between Tyrion and the girl, whose name turned out to be Tysha.

Tyrion ended up bedding her that very night. That was the first time he ever laid with a woman. Additionally, the women had done so willingly.

The following morning, Tyrion had mentioned to Sandor that he was already scheming to marry Tysha in secrecy.

Sandor made an effort to talk him out of that. While he did not hold any ill will towards Tysha, he had pointed out that she was merely a common girl, whereas he was a Lannister of the Rock. Even if they were to wed in secrecy, Lord Tywin would eventually find out. And there was no telling what he would do to either of them then (or to Sandor himself for allowing it to happen).

Initially, Tyrion had been hesitant to heed Sandor's words, but before long, they ended up sobering him. He decided he would not wed Tysha, but for her safety (and his reassurance), he would give her asylum within Casterly Rock.

He had gotten Tysha a job in the laundry as a washerwoman. She received fair pay for her services, and occasionally, Tyrion visited her privately. Overtime, their encounters became more and more infrequence. As far as Sandor can tell, Tyrion had not made any form of contact with Tysha in nearly a year. But she still lived within the Rock, and neither Tywin nor Jaime had been made aware of his relationship with her.

When Sandor was done recounting this episode, Father told him admiringly "You made the right decision, Sandor. If would say that, even if Lord Tywin had not made his offer last night."

"So far, Lord Tyrion does indeed sound to be a respectable man," Mother perceived, "And if an ordinary woman could come to love him, there could very well be a chance that Ellyn might, as well."

"It is possible," Obara conceded, "But even with all of this accounted for, there is one detail about this matter that perturbs me."

"What might that be?" Sandor questioned his wife.

"Lord Tywin's real reason for wanting this contract to happen," Obara explicated, "I do not believe for an instant that that the sole purpose for the match is that he wishes for each noble house in the Westerlands to be connected to his own house. He must have another motive."

"That is what we believe, too," Dacey revealed.

"By 'we,' you mean…?" Ellyn inquired.

"Gregor, Gerion, and myself," Dacey elaborated.

"We spent the better part of an hour going over this topic last night," Gerion pronounced, "By the end of our discussion, we arrived at the same conclusion for Tywin's true reason for proposing the match."

"Go on," Father bade them.

Gregor sat up in his chair, leaned forward, and declared "We believe he intends to use Ellyn as a hostage."

That brought an interval of unpleasant silence to the room.

Why in the Seven Hells did he not mention this sooner? Perhaps this should have been addressed at the start of this conversation.

"Why?" Sandor uttered quietly.

"Ever since the fiasco with Amory Lorch, Lord Tywin and I have not gotten along," Gregor explained, "That was why he forced me out of the Westerlands in the first place. Even today, he still sees me as a threat to his authority. Luckily, now that I am sworn to Lord Eddard, he knows he cannot touch me. You, however, are still his subjects."

"As such, we believe Tywin is convinced that having one of you close will keep Gregor inline," Dacey went on for her husband.

A thought occurred to Sandor "So, is that why he made me his squire?"

"It more than likely was the reason," Gerion admitted, "But even if it was, you should know that Tywin does not tolerate incompetence in his ranks. So even if you were there as a hostage, he must have appreciated your skills as a squire."

That does bring me some comfort. I never thought for a moment that Lord Tywin was giving me special treatment by making me his squire. But it's reassuring to know that he did not just see me as a head he may have separated from its shoulders.

"Of course, now that Sandor is a married man, he can no longer serve as Tywin's squire," Gerion professed, "So he'll need someone else from this family to play the part of hostage."

"In other words, me," Ellyn realized.

Gregor, Dacey, and Gerion gravely nodded in confirmation.

"Unlike Sandor, Ellyn would be bound to the Rock once she and Tyrion wed," Father noted.

"But after they married, Ellyn would be Lord Tywin's daughter-by-law," Mother pointed out, "Surely even he would do nothing to harm his own blood."

"Alas, Tywin does not hold the same reverence for kinship as others," Gerion disclosed, "He would not hesitate to kill Ellyn if either branch of House Clegane did something to severely displease him."

"Worse yet, he knows we, on the other hand, do respect kinship," Gregor proclaimed, "So we would be obligated to make no move against him, for fear of angering the Gods."

"Why would you move against him?" Father queried in interest.

"I do not know, Father," Gregor claimly, "I am merely considering all possible situations. Even so, based on our discussion thus far, it appears the best way to resolve this predicament is if we agree to Lord Tywin's proposal. And that could prove just as bad as refusing him would."

Several of the others murmured in agreement. Sandor then tapped his mug on the desk to get everyone's attention. Once he had it, he stated "There is one thing you all seem to be neglecting: Ellyn's opinion. She's the one who will be most affected by the outcome of this meeting, after all."

"He's absolutely right," Obara agreed with her husband.

"Yes, he is," Father concurred. He turned to his daughter and told her firmly "Ellyn, despite everything we have talked on, the final choice should be yours. What answer would you prefer to give to Lord Tywin's proposal?"

Every other person in the room locked their eyes on Ellyn, as well. She had never yearned to be the certain of attention, but this was one scenario when she had to be.

She sat in complete quietness for five minutes, contemplating her options. Evidently, she wished to be thorough in her considerations.

Ultimately, she rose from her chair and announced "From what's been said, we would take a risk regardless of whether we accept or refuse. At least if we accepted, we'd appease Lord Tywin for a time. Sandor, Gregor, and Gerion all seem to agree that Lord Tyrion is a good man. The fact that he is a dwarf does not bother me, nor does the fact that his father plans to remove him from their family's line of succession. So perhaps a contract between him and myself might actually work out well. Nonetheless… I'd like to meet Lord Tyrion just once before I decide."

"I can arrange that," Gregor informed her, "Tyrion is supposed to be at the tourney. You can talk with him there."

Ellyn nodded in acknowledgment, and she declared "After I have spoken with him, I'll make my decision."

Everyone there found that an acceptable arrangement. No lord would ever deny his potential daughter-by-law the request to meet his son before they were joined. Even Lord Tywin would grant her that opportunity.

Soon after this, the meeting ended, and everyone departed from the solar.

After he exited, Sandor remained at the door. He beckoned for Obara to go on without him; he would catch up in a minute.

Ellyn was the last one to leave. Sandor stopped her and asked to speak with her privately.

"What do you need, San?" she asked her brother in interest.

"I just wished to tell you that I admire what you are doing, Ell," the Hound told her, "You're doing something that most other highborn girls wouldn't even consider doing. Moreover, you're willingly putting yourself in danger."

Ellyn just shrugged and debated "You and Gregor honor our House in your ways; I honor it in mine,"

"What amazes me is how fearless you're being about all this," Sandor thought aloud.

"I am not afraid to risk my life for the good of my family," Ellyn candidly informed her brother. She then adapted a wicked smile and muttered "And even if Lord Tywin intends to use me as a hostage, being at the Rock would produce an advantage or two for us, as well. For all you know, we just might be able to turn Lord Tywin's plot against him."

Sandor was initially stunned by that proclamation, but then he saw the truth in it. Now it was his turn to grin. Right there, in that very moment, he realized his sister had grown up.

She's not a girl any longer. No; a woman stands before me.

…

Thousands of camps, hundreds of campfires, and dozens of pavilions composed the massive camp of the Royal Army. However, a considerable portion of the camp was currently deserted.

Willas Tyrell noticed that as he came down the hills from the south. He rode at the head of his party astride his brown courser.

His younger brother Garlan rode beside him on his red garron. He squinted at the camp in the distance, and, noting the significant number of missing individuals, said inquisitively "Where is everyone?"

"Most likely at Lannisport," the heir to Highgarden speculated. Where else would they be?

"No, they would not start without us," Garlan firmly debated. After a pause, his conviction faltered a bit, and he looked to his elder brother and asked "Would they?"

Willas had to keep himself from snickering.

"The tourney has already begun, but the main events are not scheduled to take place for a few more days, my lords," a stout voice muttered from behind.

Willas peered over his shoulder to gaze at Mathis Rowan, Lord of Goldengrove. Lord Mathis had been the last of their father's bannermen to merge his company to theirs. Since Goldengrove was the only holdfast in the Reach that stood directly between Highgarden and Lannisport, House Rowan had been given special permission to wait until the other Reachmen arrived at his home to join up with them. Every other present lord had been ordered to go straight to Highgarden instead.

Not long after leaving Goldengrover, Willas found himself wishing that Lord Mathis had been with them from the beginning. He was quite pleasant to be around, and he was a great conversationalist. By contrast, the days before had been rather dull. He had mostly had Florents and Fossoways for company, and they had proved to be a tiresome lot.

If only Grandmother Olenna could come. She'd definitely liven up that crowd.

Fortunately, Lord Mathis had accomplished that on his own.

The Hightowers had gone ahead and travelled from Oldtown to Lannisport by sea. Willas could at least look forward to seeing his aunts, uncles, and grandfather when he arrived there. That would not be long, given how close Casterly Rock seemed in the distance.

"Hey, Willas, aren't they holding the knighting ceremony today?" Garlan queried in interest.

"I believe so," Willas replied, getting out a piece of paper from his vest. It contained a copy of the planned agenda for the tourney. He had received it alongside the invitation to the tourney at Highgarden. It was concise, but very specific. After looking over it, he revealed "Yes, it is scheduled for midday."

"If we hurry, we might get there in time to witness it," Garlan proposed eagerly.

Willas scoffed at his younger brother's enthusiasm. As he tucked the agenda back into his vest, he remarked "We'll get there soon enough, Garlan. It won't do us any good to rush the convoy."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Garlan conceded, albeit a little grudgingly, "Oh, well. Hopefully we'll arrive in time to see the last of the knightings."

"I'm certain we will," Willas claimed assuredly.

Truthfully, he himself would have preferred to watch the whole of the knighting ceremony, as well. But his company had been travelling for days with just enough time in-between rides to adequately eat and rest. He did not wish to chance overexerting his father's vassals before they even reached their destination.

That would be irresponsible for the future liege lord of the Reach.

A moment later, Lord Mathis appeared at Willas' other side. "A word, my lord?"

Willas Tyrell promptly turned to the head of House Rowan. "Yes, Lord Mathis?"

"If you wish to get to Lannisport sooner, you have the means to make such happen," the Lord of Goldengrove notified him, "Simply given the command, and the convoy will quicken its pace to your liking."

Willas scoffed at that. "I appreciate your advice, but I am not Lord Paramount of the Reach yet, my lord."

"Even so, there is no harm in reasserting your position," Mathis Rowan contended. As he took ahold of his horse's reins and returned to his place behind Willas, he added in "Your choice, my lord."

Willas turned back to his front and thought on Lord Mathis' counsel. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Garlan watching him intently. Clearly, his brother – a plump yet fierce and levelheaded boy of twelve – was hoping him to follow that proposal.

After a minute of contemplation, Willas looked back at the Lord of Goldengrove and told him "Pass the word down the column. We shall go from a hard trot to a soft gallop."

"As you command, my lord," Mathis Rowan avowed.

As Lord Mathis went to call out Willas' command along the Reachmen's ranks, Willas remained focused on the lands in front of him. He gradually increased his horse's step until it was just barely starting to run. Garlan increased the pace of his own mount to match his brother's.

There were times when Willas Tyrell was truly amazed at just how much authority his voice carried. With one word, hundreds – no, thousands – of grown men, many of them hardened by battle and winter, would hasten to obey the order of a boy who had only recently seen his thirteenth nameday. What intrigued him even more was that the Reachmen responded even better to his command than they did to his lord father's.

But such was the way of the world. He was the firstborn son of the head of a Great House. Thus, he was expected to rule that house and all the other houses in the region after his sire passed on.

Some future heirs often wondered if they would lead their houses as well as (or even better than) their fathers had. Willas was not among that group. He had never once doubted himself or his capabilities. He knew he would be an excellent leader. Some would say he already was.

In any case, that was the general impression he got from Garlan and Lord Mathis.

Within an hour, the Reachmen appeared at Lannisport. Another camp (almost as large as the Royal Army's) had been erected in the stretch of land between the port and Casterly Rock. This one, however, was filled with a huge variety of noises. Even before he reached the site, Willas could hear blacksmiths hammering at their forges, vendors announcing their products, soldiers laughing as they raised their tankards, children playing, and cheering everywhere.

If it's this abuzz with excitement now, I wonder what it will be like once the main events begin.

Willas brought his horse to a halt when he reached the edge of the tourney grounds. The whole of his company stopped right when he did. He gave the order to dismount, and several hundred men collectively climbed down from their horses.

A great number of stableboys immediately came forth to take charge of the Reachmen's mounts. After giving custody of his courser and Garlan's garron to one of them, the two Tyrell sons headed further back into the caravan. Every now and then, Willas received a bow of the head and a murmur of "m'lord."

Soon, he and Garlan came to a wheelhouse. At his beckoning, one of the servants opened the door, revealing a tall woman with silver hair.

Willas smiled, extended his hand to the woman, and said politely "Mother."

Lady Alerie Tyrell, formerly of House Hightower, grinned at her firstborn and took his hand, allowing him to aid her down to the ground. Once she was on her feet, she turned back to the wheelhouse and muttered sweetly "Come along, darlings."

A boy of seven and a girl of six swiftly exited the vehicle. Both of them shared their elder brothers' brown hair, but whereas Willas' was short and smooth and Garlan's was tied in a short ponytail, the boy's was flowing and the girl's was curly.

"Are we there yet?" the boy asked, impatience detectable in his tone.

Garlan chuckled, and Willas drily answered him with "Yes, Loras; we're here."

Loras Tyrell's impatience was quickly replaced with ecstasy. He can barely contain his excitement.

Willas knelt before his youngest brother and told him "Now, we need you to watch Margaery. Garlan and I are expected to pay homage to father's bannermen, and Mother must seek out Father. You can either go with her or us, if you want, but keep a close eye on our sister."

Most brothers would dread the chore of watching after their younger sister. Loras, however, was never one to decline a task. At least when it came from his parents or brothers, or when it involved protecting or fighting someone.

Loras saluted his brother and pronounced solemnly "I won't fail you, Willas!"

Again, Garlan chuckled. Willas just gave a proud smile. I know you won't.

Loras had always been somewhat protective of Margaery. Like Willas and Garlan, Mace Tyrell's third son and only daughter had been born just one year apart. Since there were five years between Garlan and Loras, Margaery had become fonder of Loras than their elder brothers. But she loved all of them just the same. No one could contest that.

After Willas stood back up, he headed towards the tourney grounds. He rapidly moved through the camp with his mother, siblings, and household guards. All the while, he kept an eye open for his father and for his mother's family.

He ending up spotting Father first. He was near the center of the grounds, conversing with Lord Randyll Tarly and Lord Paxter Redwyne.

At first, Willas was inclined to both wave and cringe. On the one hand, Lord Paxter was the nephew of his grandmother, Olenna Tyrell, as well as his uncle by his marriage to Willas' aunt, Mina Tyrell. So he always enjoyed Lord Paxter's company. Lord Randyll, on the other hand, not so much. As a future Lord Paramount, Willas knew he was supposed to be exceptionally brave. In spite of that, the head of House Tarly secretly intimidated him. There were many who said Lord Randyll was a just man; as just as Lord Stannis Baratheon. Nevertheless, he was known to be even less forgiving and compassionate than the king's stoic brother. Willas had heard of how he had tormented his own son Samwell in effort to make a man out of him.

Still, as he approached the three men, Willas did not let his face display any indication of fear. When he, Mother, and his siblings reached them, he dipped his head to Lord Mace Tyrell, greeting him with their house words "Growing Strong, Father."

The Warden of the South grinned and placed a hand on his heir's shoulder. He remarked merrily "No need for formality here, my boy. This is a celebration, not a conference."

Willas resisted the desire to roll his eyes. As much as he loved his father, Lord Mace Tyrell had a habit of disregarding protocol and forgetting his courtesies on occasion. If he only exhibited that behavior in front of his immediate family and no one else, Willas could probably tolerate it. Alas, Father tended to act the way in front of his own lords bannermen, which annoyed and bothered Willas.

Fortunately for him, Lords Redwyne and Tarly paid no mind to their liege lord's conduct. They both bowed their heads to Willas and Mother, and they greeted them with the usual civilities.

"How was your journey, my lady?" Lord Paxter asked Mother friendly.

"It went well, my lord," she responded, smiling again, "I appreciate your concern, my lord."

"Concern is expected of us, Lady Alerie," Lord Randyll mumbled, not disrespectfully, "You are Lady of Highgarden. As such, your well-being and that of your children is supposed to be a foremost concern of ours."

"Yes, Lord Randyll," Mother avowed, trying to keep her grin, "All the same, please know I am grateful to you for readily answering my husband's summons when he went off to war."

"I simply did what was required of me," the Lord of Horn Hill uttered indifferently.

I don't think I've seen a man show so much contempt for gratitude.

By her façade, Mother strongly wished to change the subject. She asked Father and the other two lords "Is Lord Stark here?"

Most people might have been inclined to wonder why Alerie Tyrell would suddenly seem so interested in the whereabouts of the Lord Paramount of the North. Of course, Willas was aware that she only asked that question because she was actually more interested in Robb Stark, Lord Eddard's son and heir. Specifically, she must have been interested in the proposition that had been made concerning Robb and Margaery. Looking over at his sister, Willas mused. I'd be very interested in knowing how that turns out, as well.

"Yes, I believe he is with King Robert," Paxter Redwyne disclosed.

"So where's the King?" Loras queried gladly. He seemed elated at the mere mention of Robert Baratheon.

"He is occupied with knighting a few hundred men," Father proclaimed.

"So the knighting ceremony has already started?" Garlan presumed.

"Not just yet," Randyll Tarly said bluntly. He looked to Mother and added "Incidentally, I believe I sighted your lord father amongst the ceremony's audience, my lady."

"Is that so?" Mother murmured, a trace of happiness in her voice. Lord Randyll nodded once, and she muttered in mild glee "Thank you for informing me of this."

The Lord of Horn Hill said nothing in response. He and the Lord of the Arbor were dismissed by the Lord of Highgarden, and then Father proposed that they head to the knighting ceremony. His wife and children gave no word of protest. Subsequently, Willas made his way to the knighting ceremony with Father, Mother, Garlan, Loras, and Margaery.

As they neared the huge stage, Willas caught of glimpse of his mother's father, Lord Leyton of House Hightower. He was at the back of the assembly, surrounded by his children. He had been accompanied to the tourney by Willas' uncles Baelor, Gunthor, and Humfrey and his aunts Malora and Lynesse. Apparently, his aunts Leyla, Denyse, and Alysanne had been unable to attend. And his uncle Garth, of course.

Grandfather Leyton was laughing at something Uncle Gunthor had said when he noticed the Tyrells. He directed the attention of his other five children towards Willas and his family. All of them made a grin at their sister, her husband, and her children.

"Alerie!" Lord Leyton Hightower cheerfully called out to his second daughter when she was within earshot.

Mother grinned widely, stepped up to her father, and embraced him. He held her tightly, as though he had not seen her in over a decade. In actuality, it had only been a few months.

For a long time, Willas had suspected that his mother was his grandfather's favorite child (even before she had wed his liege lord). For obvious reasons, he had never asked either of them if his suspicions were true. All the same, he was somewhat convinced that they were.

After Mother came apart from Lord Leyton, she, Father, and Willas exchanged pleasantries with her siblings. Uncle Baelor and Uncle Humfrey were as gracious as ever, Aunt Malora and Uncle Gunthor were less excited but still pleasant, and Aunt Lynesse… she just said "Hello" and left it at that. She was not one to get sentimental, even at reunions between family members.

"Have we missed anything?" Garlan enquired.

"No, you arrived just in time," Uncle Gunthor revealed, "The ceremony should commence very soon."

"Oh, quiet down; quiet down," Aunt Malora beckoned the others, "It is starting now!"

At that, Willas and the other present members of his family looked to the stage. Indeed, King Robert had just stepped onto it. The audience silenced as one as he moved to the front of the stage. A tall man with dark hair and an image of a direwolf on his doublet stood off to the side of the stage.

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.

Willas wondered what purpose Lord Eddard had for being on the stage. He had heard there were few knights in the North, as they held to the Old Gods. They preferred to kneel before ancient trees than before seven statues.

In any case, Willas noted Lord Eddard did not seem to care very much to be there.

Perhaps he's merely there out of obligation.

Given the knowledge that Eddard Stark was said to be Robert Baratheon's lifelong best friend, that was not unlikely.

Willas quickly discovered Lord Eddard's true reason for being there. When the King stopped in the center of the stage, a number of individuals from the crowd climbed onto it. As they entered the stage, their names were called out by a herald. Gregor Clegane. Dacey Mormont. Oberyn Martell. Gerion Lannister.

All of them were renowned members of the Legion without Banners, whose base was located in the North. Not all of the Legionnaires were Northmen by birth, but they had been living in the North for much of the past few years.

In any case, Willas was glad to see Lord Gregor Clegane there. Now once the ceremony was over, he would be able to see to an affair that had been on his mind since before he left Highgarden.

From what Willas could discern, the Legionnaires were there as overseers of the knighting ceremony. Once they were all in place, King Robert gave a short speech. It was nothing very eye-opening; just a basic summary of the importance of fighting with honor, integrity, loyalty, and truth, and how those qualities were quintessential to being a knight.

Once that was over, a score of men were called onto the stage. They stood apart from each other in four rows of five. It was then that Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard, made his appearance. He drew his sword and stood beside the King.

One-by-one, King Robert and Ser Barristan approached each of the twenty men. In turn, each man felt to his knees and dipped his head. As King Robert said some words about what deeds each of them had done to earn his place on that stage, Ser Barristan lightly tapped his sword against the shoulders and head of that respective man. Then each man was told to rise as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

After those twenty men had been knighted in full view of the assembly, they climbed off the stage, and their spots were quickly replaced by twenty more men.

This routine went on for close to three hours. Twenty men entered the stage as simple men, their deeds were announced, and they exited the stage as knights. Interestingly, each new group's deeds were more praiseworthy than those of the preceding group.

The final group was composed of men who had played a key role in bringing about the Royal Army's victory against the Ironborn. One of them was Jacelyn Bywater, who had lost his hand during the siege of Pyke. He now wore a prosthetic made of iron in place of it, giving him the alias Ironhand.

He's probably the only non-Ironborn to ever receive a moniker with the word "iron" in it.

The last two men to be knighted struck Willas as the most intriguing. First, there was a tall man with a brown beard who had a bear as his sigil. He was Lord Jorah Mormont, and he had maimed and captured Rodrik Greyjoy in the battle of Fair Isle. The second was an equally tall man with a sigil of three hounds. Many people in the audience gasped at the sight of his face. But he gave no heed to their shock. He was Sandor Clegane, brother of Lord Gregor, and he had managed to kill Euron Greyjoy in single combat at Fair Isle.

Like Eddard Stark, Sandor Clegane did not seem to care very much for being there. Willas found that curious. Lord Eddard may have been there out of duty to his best friend the King, but the men being knighted were all there voluntarily.

So why does the Hound not seem pleased by his knighthood?

After Sandor Clegane had been given the title of "Ser," the audience finally broke into a long round of applause and cheers. Unsurprisingly, most of the new knights were very receptive of that recognition. But Sandor appeared deaf to it. He just stood still as a statue at the front left corner of the stage with a neutral facial expression.

The ceremony was concluded a moment later. King Robert and Ser Barristan exited the stage through the back side, where no one was gathered. The last twenty knights and the Legionnaires went their own ways. Similarly, the people on the ground started to disperse.

Willas noted that Lord Jorah Mormont and Sandor Clegane exited with Gregor Clegane, Dacey Mormont, and Oberyn Martell. Lord Eddard Stark got off at the same spot as them. That may or may not have intentional, but in any case, it was convenient.

"Mother, I believe you wished to have words with Lord Eddard," Willas told his mother.

"So I did," Lady Alerie Tyrell affirmed.

Willas pointed out the wolf lord to her. He was currently in the midst of speaking to some of the Legionnaires. Willas proposed "Now is your opportunity."

Mother smiled at that and said "Indeed."

Willas would have been content to walk over to Eddard Stark. Alas, his father happened to overhear that exchange of dialogue, and he must have thought himself too good to be the ones to approach. So before Willas or Mother could take a single step, Father raised his arm and called out "Lord Eddard!"

Despite the tumultuous noise in the area, Father was loud enough to be heard by Eddard Stark. When the wolf lord heard his name, he turned in that direction. He saw Mace Tyrell waving at him. After a moment's pause, Lord Eddard excused himself from the Legionnaires and made his way over to the Reachmen

He did not come alone. A few of the Legionnaires chose to follow him. To Willas' good fortune, Lord Gregor was among them.

Eddard reached the Tyrells and the Hightowers first. He spoke to Father "You wished to see me, Lord Mace?"

"No, my lady wife did," Father revealed.

"I see," was all Lord Eddard said in response. He sounded grim. He turned to Mother and stated inquiringly "Lady Alerie?"

She grinned at the Northman and "Have you some time to converse, my lord?"

"On what, might I ask?" Eddard Stark murmured

"A certain arrangement that was proposed," Mother told him vaguely, "One meant to benefit both our families."

With her eyes, she pointed out Margaery, who was standing near her feet. Lord Eddard caught on to what she was implying fairly quickly.

"I was hoping to discuss that with you myself," the Warden of the North proclaimed, "Shall we go somewhere… a little less crowded, perhaps?"

"Excellent idea," Father declared, as though he had thought of it himself, "Come to my tent. We can talk further on this issue there."

Lord Eddard was taken aback by Father's abrupt interruption, but he made no remark.

"Willas, look after your siblings," Father ordered his firstborn, "Your mother and I have business to go over with Lord Stark."

"Yes, Father," the heir to Highgarden conceded.

And please make an effort not to embarrass us in front of Lord Eddard.

Willas noted that Gregor Clegane was one of the people who had followed Lord Eddard over. Shortly after Mother and Father exited the vicinity with the Lord of Winterfell, Willas tried to speak with the Mountain. It turns out he would have to wait a while.

Right when his parents left, Gregor went over to his grandfather. He expressed his sincerest apologies and regrets for the loss of Uncle Garth. Although condolences were expected of him, these sounded genuine. Grandfather Leyton must have thought so, too; he accepted them accordingly.

In fact, he decided to introduce his children and grandchildren to the people in Gregor's company.

Not all the people who had accompanied Lord Eddard were Legionnaires. In addition to Dacey Mormont and Oberyn Martell, the newly-anointed Jorah Mormont and Sandor Clegane had come over, as well. There were also a trio of Dornishwomen. One of them was around the same age as Prince Oberyn. She was actually Ellaria Sand, his paramour. The other two were his daughters. The elder, Obara, turned out to be the wife of Sandor Clegane. The younger, Nymeria, was currently unwed. However, Willas noticed that she spent a lot of time by Jorah Mormont's side.

Ellaria had been holding a small boy; he could not have been older than two years. He was Rickard Clegane, the son of Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey. Ellaria had been watching over him throughout the ceremony. Now that it was over, she was able to return Rickard to his parents. Thus, he was speedily transferred from Ellaria's arms to Dacey's.

After Grandfather Leyton introduced his descendants to Lord Gregor's colleagues, he asked to know more about the latter group. That was rather characteristic of him; he always was interested to learn more about new people.

Some of Gregor's companions decided to indulge the Lord of Oldtown. So they mentioned a few tidbits of information about themselves. When Lord Jorah revealed he was a widower, Aunt Lynesse suddenly became a fair deal more interested in him. She walked up to the bear lord and bade him to talk more about himself.

This could mean trouble.

Willas must not have been the only one who felt so. Gregor Clegane sneered at Aunt Lynesse, and Nymeria Martell appeared outraged.

In fact, the Mountain discreetly brought the former bastard girl over and whispered something into her ear. Several times, one or both of them glared over at Aunt Lynesse.

When Lord Gregor stopped whispering, Nymeria nodded her head, smirked, and muttered compliantly "You can count on me to do that, my lord."

Willas wondered what "that" was, but decided he would rather not find out.

He did, however, find out why Sandor Clegane was less than thrilled about his knighthood. As it happened, the Hound had only attended the ceremony at the insistence of King Robert and his brother. Truthfully, he did not care much for being a knight. He eloquently professed his belief that a true warrior was one that fought selflessly and for the good of others, not one who had "Ser" in front of his name.

Now that's a sentiment I can understand.

Eventually, all the small, separate conversations ended. Before long, Willas' aunts and uncles went their own ways, as did Gregor Clegane and his associates. Still, Willas was determined to have a word with the Mountain before the day was out.

He turned to Garlan, Loras, and Margaery, and he instructed them "I need you three to stay with Grandfather Leyton for a few minutes. There is something I have to get done elsewhere."

To his relief, his younger siblings did not try to protest or argue. After entrusting them to Grandfather Leyton, Willas rushed to catch up with Lord Gregor Clegane.

He found the Mountain near the blacksmiths. He and his lady wife were speaking to one of the metalworkers on a certain project they had commissioned his services for. Something involving Valyrian steel, if what little Willas managed to overhear was true.

Not knowing how long this endeavor might take, Willas chose to interrupt rather than to wait. He approached the massive man and said as civilly as possible "Excuse me, Lord Gregor."

The Mountain hastily looked over his shoulder. "Yes, Lord Willas?"

Willas took a deep breath and stated "I was hoping maybe you could spare me a few minutes of your time. There is something I wish to consult with you."

After a few mere seconds of contemplation, Gregor decided to grant Willas' favor. He turned to his wife and told her "I'll be right back, Dacey."

The Bear Islander nodded at that. She was still holding their son in her arms. But even with her hands full, she was a capable negotiator.

As the heir to Highgarden and the Mountain headed away, the former heard the latter's wife say to the blacksmith "Now, Master Mott, where were we?"

After walking for about a minute, Willas and Gregor managed to find a quiet, secluded spot where they could converse without being eavesdropped on.

"Now, what can I do for you, my lord?" Gregor stated enquiringly.

Willas did not answer straightaway. He chose his words carefully: "In all honesty… it's more a matter of what I can do for you."

Lord Gregor was intrigued. "How so?"

"It's quite simple, my lord," Willas Tyrell proclaimed. "I wish to join the Legion without Banners."

That remark seemed to take the Mountain by surprise. Lord Gregor stood in silence for a minute, and then he uttered tentatively "Normally, I would always welcome a promising, young volunteer…"

"But…?" Willas beckoned him to continue.

"But we do not receive many firstborn sons of highborn families," Gregor apprised him, "And we've never gotten the heir to a Great House."

"It appears I would be setting a precedent, then," Willas wittily observed.

"Yes, you would," Gregor conceded, rubbing his temple, "But tell me; what reason do you have for wishing to enlist?"

"The same reason as most of the other Legionnaires," the heir to Highgarden replied, "To establish peace, order, and stability in Westeros."

"You could accomplish plenty of that well enough from Highgarden," Gregor debated.

"Yes, but my influence does not extend far beyond the Reach," Willas contended.

"It could if you marry into a house outside your homeland," Gregor suggested.

"That might take too long," Willas uttered dourly, "I am merely a lad of thirteen."

"Well, I was a man grown at thirteen," Gregor countered.

Willas glared at him incredulously. He wordlessly emphasized how much he had to crane his neck upwards to look the Mountain in the eye.

"Alright, bad example," the Lord of Moat Cailin admitted, scoffing a bit.

"My lord, I am here offering you my services by my own volition," Willas pointed out, trying to remain patient, "Just tell me; am I wasting my time?"

Gregor stood thinking for another minute, and then he asked the younger man "Have you discussed this with your lord father and lady mother?"

Somehow, I knew he was going to bring them into this.

"I have not," Willas confessed, "But not because I was reluctant or afraid to. Instead, it was because I was more concerned about being denied this chance by you than by them."

Gregor seemed to understand that point. It appeared as though Willas was starting to convince him that he would indeed be useful to the Legion.

"Alright, let us say for a moment I allowed you into the Legion," Gregor hypothesized, "Every Legionnaire brings something practical and valuable to the table. Tell me, my lord; what makes you special? What would you have to offer that others would not?"

Willas had prepared for a question like that. He apprised the older man "I'm a fair jouster and swordsman. I'm also skilled at training horses, hawks, and hounds; they make fine animal companions. At the risk of sounding vain, I am very well-educated on the many ways of the Known World."

Gregor Clegane nodded in approval and thought aloud "That all sounds quite appealing."

After a long and hopeful silence, the Mountain nodded again and declared "Alright, my lord. I will permit you entrance into the Legion without Banners."

Willas soon broke into a wide grin. He was about to open his mouth to thank Lord Gregor profusely. Before he could, the Mountain hastily added in "On two conditions."

Willas Tyrell closed his mouth to listen. Once Gregor Clegane had his attention, he told him "Firstly, if you ever get the idea to joust with Oberyn Martell, I must have assurances that you will be cautious."

That's a strange proviso.

"May I ask why, my lord?" Willas enquired.

"Simply because the Red Viper is known to be deadly with a lance," Gregor claimed, "I will not have any person under my command being harmed by him or any other Legionnaire. Especially when the former party will one day be the Lord Paramount of the Reach."

"I understand," Willas asserted, "And the other term?"

"Have your parents arranged any prospective marriage contacts for you yet?" Gregor inquired.

Willas raised an eyebrow in confusion. But he gave an honest answer: "As of yet, no."

"Then for the present, I would like you to avoid forging any marriage contracts involving yourself," Gregor told him, "And here is why: I believe there is an ideal betrothal candidate for you. But circumstances as they are, I may not be able to secure a contract between you and her right now. Furthermore, due to another complicated drawback, I cannot tell you or anyone else about her just yet."

Now Willas was absolutely fascinated. And more than a little suspicious of Lord Gregor's intentions.

Just what is he planning to accomplish? And who is this mystery woman?

He did not bother asking those questions; he could tell he would not get answers. That aside, he decided that Lord Gregor's stipulations were reasonable. "I can accept that, my lord."

The Mountain grinned, held out his hand, and commented "Then I welcome you to the Legion, my lord."

Willas took his hand and shook it firmly.