Hound's Hunt
Twentieth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
"I would very much give a shit if the Mountain died," you reply plainly and honestly. "If you brought me his severed head I would weigh it up in gold for you, but if you publicly murdered him with half the world watching in the middle of my realm, I would have little choice but to hang you for murder. It would sour the moment quite a bit to repay a good deed in that fashion."
"Oh aye, 'murder'. Wouldn't want to have kinslaying stain your cobbles, would you? A knight killed by a dog?" Sandor frowns ferociously, the expression pulling at his scars in a way that almost makes you wince in sympathy. Why had he never had them seen to by a proper healer you wonder. Perhaps if it was indeed the Mountain who gave them to him he wears them as a band of his own desire for vengeance, or worse still he feels he deserves the pain as penance for some perceived failure.
"Rest assured, I do not count your bother a knight, who has defiled those vows in the most heinous of ways," you counter. "If he had been so foolish as to come here he would have likely suffered a very unfortunate
accident long before he took a step into the arena. Or got himself an appointment with the hangman within a day all on his own."
"And who would have dragged him before the hangman, eh?" the Hound asks, still surly as ever though at least he is listening. "Those watchmen in grey cloaks? They would've shat themselves at the sight of him, same as the gold cloaks and the red cloaks too..." An expression far too cynical to be called a smile flashes for a moment upon his face. "Doesn't matter what color you wrap a thief-catcher, they ain't doing shit to Gregor." The words have almost the ring of religious conviction, as though his brother were his own personal devil whom he alone can slay... or perhaps needs to slay. There is fear to his words too, old and heavy, a burden denied even to himself you suspect.
"You were able to best me alone by a razor's edge of skill, Sandor Clegane. How do you think your brother would have managed against a score of my sisters all just as skilled as I?" Leto interjects. The hardened steel chain at her belt twitches to her command like a serpent waking from its slumber.
"So you're a witch, too?" the Hound asks, sounding almost relieved to move away from speaking of his brother.
"Only if you insist on calling every woman who has ever used magic that," the Fury replies coldly. "The world is changed, Clegane, and you keep your eyes closed to it at your peril."
"The world never fucking changes," he shakes his head as though dispelling a buzzing fly from his ear.
"There were many noble houses, important magisters, and rich merchants in the cities I've conquered who thought the same," you reply, refusing to allow Clegane to sink back into the apathy that seems to hang about him like an unseen cloak. "It turns out that hemp ropes cared little for their money or their titles, and neither did the crows."
"And who did you put in their place, then?" he rumbles. "Bastards who were quicker with the knife when you came calling?"
"You know Clegane, if you had slammed that door in my face I would have walked away without another word, but having let me in could you do me the courtesy of
listening to what I am saying?" The anger in your words is real and hopefully enough to pry his eyes open at least a fraction.
"When my brother took Tyrosh some of the palace guards reasoned that they would gain his favor by bringing him the heads of the Archon's family," Dany speaks up in cold and measured tones. "I
saw those men hang with my own eyes, and the former Archon's kin are still alive and well."
Silence falls, interrupted only by the clank of steel as the Hound works, and for a long time it seems like he is not going to answer at all. Finally he does speak, his voice rough with more emotions than anger: "Good for them, then. I still have to kill Gregor." The words 'and die doing it' hang so clearly in the air, he might as well have shouted them.
Rather than addressing the matter directly, you take a different track: "It is strange that you traveled this far on nothing but a hunch to face your brother. It seems Tywin Lannister hardly cared about the last 'hunting accident' that saw a Clegane dead, so why should you face more scrutiny if another occurred?"
"You know why, damn you!" the Hound explodes. "Because he's Tywin's monster, his to keep on a leash or to kill when he damn well pleases."
What do you reply?
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OOC: I know this is short, but like with Mel this situation is very delicate, and I think requiring player input about where you want to try and lead him.