Sunday, March 31, 2013

Disgrace


Disgrace

There was so much blood in the air. Not a single drop of it was his. It was his comrades’ blood that was starting to get on him. Except Sair didn’t even kill them. There were too many enemies to even manage sneaking away, or trying to escape with the lost warriors.
            Somehow, one the fallen comrades stood up, walking towards Sair ever so slightly. That was impossible. The dead couldn’t walk. The other two had gotten up, and they circled around Sair, murmuring something that he couldn’t understand. Although, deep down, the young warrior knew why he was being haunted. It was because he was the only one who survived. The young warrior looked around, trying to find a way out of the circle of dead. There was none. The dead had come closer; Sair realized finally what they were saying. They were saying his name.

***

            Sair hadn’t slept for at least two days. He knew that today was the day that he was going to lose one of his brilliantly curved horns. He stroked them, knowing that he would miss it. Walking out of his room, he could feel the coldness emanating from his father. Sair couldn’t even meet the man’s eyes. Knowing that his father was ashamed of his eldest son. Sair tried to meet his mother’s eyes, yet she avoided her son’s gaze as well.
            A giggle tried to lift the heavy atmosphere, and then the little body that owned the giggle began to pull at Sair’s tail that was sticking out of his tunic. “Big bwotha what’s tha matta?” she said looking up at him with her big golden eyes.
            A sigh escaped Sair; his younger sister was too young to even understand what was happening today. Picking her up, Sair said while tickling her round nose, “You’ll understand when you’re older, Oinea,”
            The little girl began to squirm in Sair’s grasp, crying, telling him how mean he was. He let her down and then their father spoke, “Get going. Uoldo is expecting you.” Straight to the point, even as Sair’s father opened up his mouth, the young chimera flinched at how cold his father sounded. Walking past his father, Sair encountered his mother, who had gotten up and opened up the door. He looked at his mother, yet she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. He wanted to press his forehead against his mother, pat her on the head, stroke her soft hair, and tell her that everything would be all right. This wasn’t the last time she was going to see him.
            As Sair headed out the door, he grabbed his mother’s hand, squeezing it gently, and continued to walk out the door. He didn’t look back to see if his mother was on the ground sobbing, except his brilliant deer ears had heard it. He could hear his little sister ask, “What’s tha matta Mommy?”
            The young warrior continued to walk, and with each step he took, Sair realized that he was afraid. Afraid if he would be shunned for his entire life, for a year, or for a day. It didn’t matter to him, being shunned was a fate worse than death to his people. The young chimera continued to walk to the town square, hearing his hooves click underneath him on the cobblestone. As a child, he loved this sound. He loved it so much that he would just jump up and down to hear it. Except now, it sounded as though the sounds his hooves made were empty, hollow, as if even his childhood memories didn’t want to be near him.
            Upon reaching what was known as town square, Sair saw the General of what his people called an army, and their men: warriors. “So, the disgrace of a warrior showed up early, eh?” Uoldo laughed. The man was cruel and just, which was why he was the one to who held each chimera of their tribe down if they disgraced the tribe as a whole. How Sair wanted to reply to the giant of a man. Uoldo wasn’t there; he didn’t know how many enemies there were. How Sair wanted to spit at this man and hoped that it would land on his face. There were two people in this world that Sair hated, and Uoldo was one of them.
            Suddenly, Uoldo boomed a greeting, “Zuid! Glad you made it early to for your son’s special day!” The General hopped down and landed gracefully on his deer-like legs and patted Sair’s father on the back. Uoldo continued to talk, “If I were you I would have either killed Sair or kicked him out, show him what it means to be exiled from our people.”
            Except, Sair’s father didn’t talk, he just stared at his own son. The stare started to make Sair feel uncomfortable so much so that he felt like he had become a boy again. He couldn’t meet his father’s stare, so he shyly looked away.

***

            More and more people of the tribe showed up, including Sair’s mother and younger sister. Looking up at the sun, Sair knew that it was time to pay for his disgrace. “It’s time to disgrace this warrior for his crimes against our tradition!” Uoldo began. The crowd began to shout in excitement. Sair looked out in the crowd, wanting to see his mother’s face, except she kept it hidden beneath her bangs.
            “This young warrior given the name Sair at birth has disgraced our tribe. Disgraced our dead! He came back from a mission with no horns of the dead, he was in a group of three, and he was the only one who returned alive. Sair even left their bodies back there to just be burned or disposed of wherever our enemy pleases! With no horns how can their spirits kill their killer in the form of weapons? How?!” Uoldo had excited the crowd and then Sair felt the man’s hoof on his delicate back. With a simple shove Sair expected to fall flat on his face, except, his father caught him . . . by the horns. “Now, as it has been for generations, the father of the warrior will cut the horn!”
            “There are worst things than losing a horn boy,” his father said softly, “It will regrow . . . just give it time.” Sair closed his eyes at his father’s kind words. Never had he heard this before. Sair always hated his father; the man was cruel to him. He never felt any love from that man. Never. Tightly shutting his eyes, Sair fought back the tears as he felt the hand saw cut through his horn.

***

            The next thing Sair remembered was the crowd’s roar as Zuid held up his son’s horn as if it were a trophy. Opening up his eyes, Sair realized that he was sitting on the ground, head slightly tilted from the loss of the usual weight. Wiping his face, he realized that he had cried. “Such a brave warrior you are. Crying while losing something that will grow back,” as he got up, he noticed that his father seemed like to be their for his own son. To comfort him, except Sair rejected the offer coldly and just walked past his father.
            While walking through the crowd he could hear the whispers. Some said that he should have received a harsher punishment, perhaps both of his horns. Sair simply walked past them, trying hard to ignore them. Except it hurt, they didn’t know what had really happened. How his comrades haunted him for the past few days. It had become so terrible that he started to lose sleep over it. The worst part was that he felt like he couldn’t talk to anyone about it, they would all just tell him that he had done the wrong thing. Except, he had a little sister, someone who would want to be able see him every day.
            Sair wanted to walk around, maybe talk to his friends except they probably didn’t want to talk to him anyways. So, he walked home and swiftly went into his room and closed the door behind him. He crawled onto his bed curled up in a tight little ball as his deer fur tickled his nose. “Maybe I’ll just stay right here until my horn grows back,” Sair sulked. Slowly the young warrior started to close his eyes and begin to take a nap.

***

            Knock, knock. Sair slowly opened up his eyes and stretched. It was strange that someone was knocking at the door. Normally his family just lets him be. Sair was just going to go back to sleep, except the knocking came again. It sounded louder; as if whomever on the other side of the door was beginning to knock louder and louder. The noise was beginning to become annoying. “What?” Sair said irritated.
            The noise stopped, and silence filled the air until a deep cold voice was heard on the other side of the door, “Sair, can I come in?”
            The boy froze, his father wanted to come in? Whenever Sair locked himself in his room, it was always his mother. He mustered up courage and said, “Y-yeah,”
            The door swung open, and there stood his father, who seemed to have rather compassionate eyes at the moment. It confused Sair why his father was showing emotions that he hadn’t seen. Watching his father carefully sit down, Sair tried to avoid contact with his father. Except his father’s hand reached for the stumped horn and gently rubbed his finger on it. “Your shame will soon be forgotten son . . . your mother and I are proud of you . . .” Zuid began.
            Sair looked up at his father, not believing what he had just heard. Proud? How could his parents be proud of him? He was a disgrace to the tribe because he went against tradition. If only everyone knew that it wasn’t on purpose . . . he didn’t mean to leave his comrade’s bodies behind. He didn’t even know what he should have done in that situation. He was frightened.
            Still, his father continued to talk, “You do know the scar I have on my back . . . wasn’t from a battle right?” Sair stared at his father, and then looked at the scarred back. There was a perfect X, right in the middle of his father’s back. When Sair was younger, he would always ask about it, wondering how he got it. Eventually his father gave up and just never told his own son. So, Sair had come to the conclusion that his father received it in battle.
            Smiling, Zuid continued, “I did something far worse than you, something that made my own family disown me . . . I let my enemies live I didn’t kill them Sair, I told them to leave. That was when Uoldo was in my team, the kid looked up to me. Then, the bastard went and told my father, who was the general at the time about what I’ve been doing.” Sair couldn’t help but look at his father in surprise. Zuid never talked about his family, and now, Sair knew why. However, Sair knew how bad it was to leave their enemies alive, they would be able to lick their wounds and be able to reproduce. The worst part was, was that they could give their leaders information about how the tribe fought.
            “Still, my father had no problem bringing down the hot metal onto my flesh. I cried out, no, I screamed as I felt it hit my skin. My father dug in with that piece of metal so much, that this scar will never heal, it will always be with me, I’m not even allowed to cover it.” Zuid said clenching his fist. Sair had then crawled over to his father’s back and began to trace the scar as he did when he was younger. Back then it was in admiration, thinking that his father was the coolest man in the world. Now, it was in regret. He had no idea what his own father had been through.
            Zuid sighed, and chuckled, “Ironic as it may sound, I met your mother day I got the damn thing. I was left passed out on the stage, and when I awoke, she had wrapped bandages around me. Hell, she even offered me a home. You should know the rest . . .”
            The young warrior felt bad about how he had thought of his father before this conversation. Sair had hated the man as soon as he saw other fathers giving their children love. Sair was left there to wonder why he received nothing like that from his own father. His father wasn’t capable of any more compassion; it was all burned away as he felt that hot iron hit flesh. Gently, the young warrior wrapped his arms around his father and whispered, “I didn’t do it on purpose. There were too many enemies . . . I don’t even know how I survived . . .”
            His father swerved around and returned the hug back, whispering, “It’s not your fault. We were built for agility and dexterity. We are prey to begin with; our deer-half has made it so. It’s only animal instinct that you ran. No one in this family is blaming you for running.”
            The warmth emanating from his father’s body was so warm and comforting. The reason why his father would barely say a word to him was probably because he was remembering the time when he was on that stage for something much worse. Looking up Sair asked, “Why was Uoldo so kind to you? If he ratted on you why would he treat you like that . . .”
            Zuid ruffled his son’s hair and said, “Even I don’t know the answer to that. It’s probably because I used to be his hero. Someone he looked up to. Except now, he has a higher position than me. He’s General and I’m just a retired warrior with a reminder on my back.”
            Suddenly, Sair’s father stood up and walked out of the door. Before closing it, he smiled at his son. Sair returned the smile, finally, he knows his father better. Now, he’ll be able to protect his father if someone speaks ill of him.
            “Come now son, food will be on the table soon. We shouldn’t let it get cold.” Zuid said. Sair simply made the smile turn into a grin and followed his father to the table where they ate and laughed as a family.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

A Lady Never Dies


A Lady Never Dies

Summary: Short time after arriving in King’s Landing, Sansa is still grieving over her lost Lady. The Hound notices her grieving; he tries to cheer her up. A Sansa/The Hound fanfic.



Sansa was staring at the burning hearth in the Hand’s Tower. Knowing that the only passion she had was her anger towards her father for the death of Lady. Lady completed Sansa, after Lady’s death, it felt like her whole being died with her.

Except, Sansa still had to live. For she was going to be betrothed to the love of her life, Prince Joffrey Baratheon. Sansa loved the way he looked at her with his emerald eyes, they reminded her of bravery, and everything she had heard about in songs; like the knight coming to rescue the princess, or the handsome prince who would end up with the most fairest lady of them all; Sansa desired to be the fairest lady of all of King’s Landing. She wanted to be the beautiful girl that all of the ladies would be jealous of. She would wear the most beautiful dresses, accompanied with the most beautiful jewelry and headpieces.

However, in all of Sansa’s daydreams appeared her beloved lost direwolf. Lady was always by her side, well groomed and all. Lady was the most desired wolf among dogs. Lady had never misbehaved, neither in her dreams nor reality.

Suddenly, a door closed without Sansa’s knowing. She glanced over seeing her father standing in front of the closed door. Sansa stood up and greeted her father numbly, “Hello, Father.”

Ned Stark sighed, “Sansa, we need to talk about what happened on the way here.”

“There’s nothing to say. You’ve said so much already with what you did to Lady!” Sansa retorted.

“I did it for the best interest of the kingdom.” replied Ned.

“The kingdom! It was Nymeria who bit Joffrey! Not Lady. It was never her! Why should Lady have to die in Nymeria’s place?!” Sansa choked.

Ned sat down and ushered Sansa to sit next to him, “Little one, sometimes we all have to make choices for the greater good. Believe me Sansa; I didn’t want to kill Lady. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I refused the King’s orders. You do realize that, that is a crime, yes?”

Sansa nodded, noticing herself inching closer to her father for comfort. Sansa couldn’t fight back her tears any longer. She found herself crying silently in her father’s arms, listening to his steady breathing had become soothing to her; soon enough she fell asleep.

As Sansa awoke from her slumber, she noticed her father had left her side. Entering her room, Sansa decided to put a new dress on, and wander around King’s Landing. Sansa chose a dress that was brilliant in color; it was deep emerald green with golden lace. Undoing her hair, she couldn’t figure out how she should style her hair in the dress, so she merely put on a delicate golden hair net that matched the lacing on her dress.

Sansa had found herself in the courtyard staring at the beautiful fountain and observing those who were also in the courtyard.

“Does my lady often walk on her own?” a voice chirped.

Wheeling around Sansa saw her betrothed, Joffrey, “Why, I felt like stretching my legs, so I decided to wander about the castle . . . my lord.”

Joffrey offered his hand to Sansa, accepting Sansa was led around the castle; listening to Joffrey speak, “My mother said that in time my hand will scar. Scar. Can you believe that? A king should never have scars. His skin should be flawless, just like a beautiful gem.”

“Perhaps, my lord. However, I think that scars show bravery and strength.” Sansa whispered.

Joffrey suddenly stopped in place, forced Sansa’s hand off of his,  “Funny. I don’t remember asking your opinion my lady.”

A deep sinister fire had started to emerge within Sansa. Remembering what her father had told her about his decision with Lady; Sansa replied, “You are right, my lord. Please, forgive me; for I have spoken out of turn.” The words choked out of Sansa, but she knew she had to apologize, for this was the boy she is to marry, and be his Queen.

It didn’t stop at Joffrey’s retort however. Without a signal, Sansa felt a hard smack across her face, and she fell to the ground in shock. She somehow lost her ability to breathe; her hand instinctively went to her cheek. She looked up at Joffrey, dumbfounded.

Joffrey looked down on her, “I don’t expect just an apology. I expect hands and feet on the ground, begging for forgiveness. However, I’ll let you go with just a slap this time.” With the threat fresh in Sansa’s mind, Joffrey stomped off, leaving Sansa on the ground.

“That is not very lordly of the young prince now is it?” rasped a voice. A voice that Sansa had begun to fear.

Sansa looked up seeing The Hound, “No . . . it isn’t ser.”

The Hound scoffed, “I’m no knight my lady.”

The title “lady” echoed in her head. However, it wasn’t as a title, she saw her Lady, her friend.

“Lady” Sansa murmured.

“That indeed you are.” The Hound said sarcastically. “Perhaps, I could help the lady up, as she is still sitting on the ground?” He offered her his hand.

Sansa stared at him, “Why yes. That’s very generous of you . . . “ she was going to give him a title, but The Hound could sense that she was, and glared at her.

When Sansa had her feet on the ground, The Hound asked, “Is my lady all right?”

Sansa just stared at him, “Please use no formalities with me, since you won’t let me. I despise the word lady.”

The Hound stared at her in shock, “Bugger that then. Why do you dislike the word ‘lady’ so much? You sound like the runt.”

Sansa didn’t understand who ‘the runt’ was until she realized The Hound was talking about her younger sister, Arya. Sansa knew she couldn’t leave him waiting in a question that he wanted answered, “Lady was my direwolf. She was so kind and-“

“Bugger that. I’m sorry I asked.” The Hound interrupted. As he was about to leave, he felt a hand grab a piece of his clothing, as if it were a child not wanting their parent to leave their side. Wheeling around, he noticed that Sansa looked straight into his eyes, something that she rarely ever does.

“Please. No one understands what I’m going through.” Sansa pleaded.

The Hound sighed, “No one understands me neither. I guess we got somethin’ in common, eh?”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “I wish to talk to you somewhere more private. Somewhere no one would expect me to go.”

“Perhaps we could go to the brothel? No, Baelish owns most of ‘em. There’s this tree, it’s dead, including everything around it. It’s in the poor area, but no one would ever expect a Stark to be there. Don’t wear anythin’ too fancy. You’ll stick out.” The Hound explained.


Night had approached King’s Landing, everyone was going home, eating dinner with their families, and quieting down; to sleep. However, Sansa was preparing to meet The Hound. She put on a simple brown dress, with a hood over her head to hide her identity.

Sansa had found it easy sneaking out of the Hand’s Tower; almost too easy. “So this is how Arya feels, she can get around with breeze disguised as a poor girl . . . well boy in her case.” Sansa concluded. No one ever gave a glance her way, as she passed by. It was almost as if she were invisible.

Upon reaching the dead tree Sansa had noticed that The Hound was already there. However, he was asleep in his drunken stupor. Sansa didn’t know what to do with the sleeping drunk. She was afraid that if she wakens him from his sleep, then he would kill her. Sansa decided on sitting next to him, she gagged upon smelling him, he smelled of all sorts of alcohol.

The silence didn’t last long though. Soon enough The Hound woke up, slightly drunk, “Little bird, sing measong.” His words still seemed slurred, although Sansa was still able to slightly understand him.

Sansa looked at him with her soft eyes, “I shan’t sing you a song. However, I shall tell you tale. A tale about Lady.”

The Hound rolled his drunken head to look at her, “Alady?”

“No, Lady. The nicest direwolf that lived.” Sansa corrected.
 
She had told him the tale of her beloved direwolf, and how she was unlike her littermates, and all Lady ever wanted to do was to be beside Sansa. Some points in the story The Hound would appear to be displeased with Sansa’s story, nonetheless, he still listened. Listened, and understood her pain in losing something. He listened when no one else did.

Even after The Hound had listened to Sansa’s tale, he still sat there. Then, he did something that Sansa didn’t refuse, their lips met; it was almost as if they needed no direction. It happened so fast, but to them, it felt like a lifetime.

After the kiss had ended, The Hound sighed, “Lit’l birdlets look atthe stars.”

Ignoring her newfound love’s drunken slurs, Sansa looked up at the stars, staring at all of the constellations, and she suddenly felt something. Looking over at her shoulder, she noticed that The Hound had passed out drunk, resting his head on her shoulder.

Smiling gently, Sansa went back to looking at the stars. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was a familiar shape; it was someone who she had been longing to see. “Lady,” Sansa whispered. Sansa silently cursed about how she was trapped where she was due to The Hound’s head resting on her shoulder. Sansa could only watch Lady’s ghost.
Sansa breathed in, “A lady never dies. Lady, please-“

Before Sansa could even finish her sentence, Lady disappeared, as well as The Hound’s drunkenness. The Hound woke up, “Whom were you talking to?”

Sansa looked at him, “No one, it was just a ghost. A ghost of the past.”