#babt

Reina grabbed Arya's arm, taking off across the rocky landscape to the symphony of swords clashing. Pursuing footsteps picked up behind them, but she didn't look back. Couldn't look back. If she did, she wouldn't be able to make herself leave Sandor, no matter how fearsome he was in a fight. She focused on Arya as the girl overtook her, on the way Podrick's gaining on her made her feel like a lamb in the jaws of a lion.

"Are you afraid, little lamb?" Sandor's voice echoed in her head. She clenched her jaw, pushing herself up the hill, forcing her feet to quicken their pace. Today, she would not be the lamb, she thought. She would be the lion, no matter what it took.

They crested the hill, and Reina pulled Arya behind a large rock, crouching down as Podrick passed. She grasped the hilt of the dagger Sandor had pressed into her hand the night before and braced herself, but Podrick passed them by and disappeared from sight. She let out a breath.

The sounds of battle echoed across the rocks. Reina hoped it would be enough to cover their footfalls as they made their escape, enough to draw Podrick back to his mentor. They started to move, but she paused when she heard Sandor shout. "He can handle it," Arya said. But Reina was already notching her arrow once more.

"I won't leave him alone." Arya's mouth tightened, and Reina could see her indecision in her eyes. "Do what you must, and so will I." She turned around, and her heart ached when she heard Arya's footsteps retreating in the opposite direction, but she had her own mission in mind. She said a quick prayer for Arya's safety, and quickened her pace.

As she came up the slope, she spotted Sandor and Brienne at the cliff's edge. Brienne was screaming, hitting Sandor again and again. Reina drew her arrow, took aim, and fired. But she was too late. Even as her arrow struck the gap in armor at Brienne's shoulder, Sandor tumbled over the edge of the cliff. She cried out, and there was a great thud as he landed on the rocks below.

Podrick reappeared, running to Brienne's side as she grasped her shoulder, and Reina nearly fell in her scramble across the rocks. She slid down the hill. Dust rose into the air in her wake, and she couldn't reach Sandor fast enough.

"Sandor!" She knelt next to him and he coughed, blood spewing from his mouth.

"I told you to go," he wheezed. She cupped his face in her hands, and he grasped at her wrists. His hold was weak.

"If you really think I'd leave you, you're mad." She took in his condition, his bloodied face and the bone protruding from his thigh. If she could find Stranger, if she could get him into the saddle-

"I know what you're thinking, lamb," Sandor said, voice rasping, "it won't work." Reina fought the tears that gathered in her eyes.

"I could make a litter and Stranger could drag you-"

"It won't work!" Sandor squeezed her hand with all his might, his voice sharp. He coughed again, more blood bubbling past his lips. "Unless there's a maester hiding behind these rocks, I'm done," he said. His hand loosened around hers, but Reina held tight. "I'm ready. Just... just do it. Kill me." He may as well have struck her.

"Sandor, you can't ask me this." She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Anything but this."

"You know where the heart is?" He dragged her hand to rest on his chest, holding it there so his heart beat against her palm. He winced as he reached for the dagger at her waist, pressing it into her other hand. "Strike true," he said, words slurring and eyes threatening to roll back, "it'll be quick. Quicker than this." Reina's hands shook. She lifted the knife, staring at the place where his armor had bent out of place, his shirt hanging open to reveal his bare chest. She imagined his heart beneath his skin, unsteady and struggling, and she imagined her blade sinking into it.

The dagger clattered against the ground, a sob ripping from her. He cradled the back of her head as she leaned against him, and there was forgiveness in his touch. Reina pressed her ear to his chest, clinging to him as the sun sank and darkness fell. She listened to the beat of his heart, holding onto hope even as it slowed, and stopped.

Sandor drifted, sinking into darkness.

He was a young man when they met, though the hands of time would crumble the memory and let it sift through the fingers of his mind like sand. It was a festival, or maybe a tourney, and it was crowded, the air buzzing with excitement. Nobles and smallfolk alike parted before Sandor like wheat under the scythe. And yet, she walked out in front of him, no fear in her eyes even as she bounced off of his armored chest and fell to the ground.

"Apologies, Ser," she said, rubbing her sore shoulder. Sandor scowled.

"Don't call me that," he snapped, as if her words were a great insult. He walked away, leaving her in the dirt.

He didn’t realize until some time later that his coin purse was missing, at which point the girl’s face had disappeared from his mind, leaving only the memory of sandy blonde hair. If he reached out, perhaps he could touch the memory. He thought it might be warm, like light at his fingertips, but he couldn’t move.

Sandor drifted, and darkness overtook him.

In his memory, they met in the throne room of the Red Keep, the King standing between them and the Iron Throne looming over them. She was beautiful, and too soft for the web of lies that made up King’s Landing.

“What is the meaning of this?” The King walked towards them, and Sandor followed. Cersei presented the girl like a prized lamb brought for the slaughter.

“A gift from your grandfather,” she said, “a marriage proposition from Volantis.” The girl stood tall and straight, unflinching even as Joffrey looked her over.

“I’m already engaged,” Joffrey said, but he didn’t dismiss them. There was a hunger in his expression that should have frightened the girl.

“To a traitor,” Cersei countered. She touched Joffrey’s shoulder, leaning in as he observed the girl before him. She showed no sign of discomfort, and Sandor couldn’t help but be impressed. “If you accept this offer,” Cersei said, “you could form a valuable alliance that may very well turn the tides of this war. Your victory would be celebrated.”

Joffrey considered his mother’s words, none the wiser to her manipulation. Inexplicably, Sandor almost wanted to say something, to cut the lamb loose and let it escape the knife, but he stayed quiet. Joffrey stepped forward, and the girl didn’t flinch as he took her hand. She even managed a smile when he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"What is your name, my lady?"

With a curtsy, the girl replied, and her voice was steady and sweet. "Reina Maegyr, your grace."