Chapter Twenty Four: Different Yet Similar Outcomes

A hundred miles to the southeast (more east-southeast than south-southeast), another former Sand Snake was smiling at another man. In this case, it was Obara Martell smiling at her intended, Sandor Clegane of Clegane's Keep.

The two of them were standing on the bridge of the Lady Jeyne, the flagship of the Westerlander fleet. It was one of the many ships that had been saved by Lord Gregor Clegane's warning.

The flagship had been named in honor of Lord Tywin Lannister's late lady mother, Jeyne of House Marbrand. When she had lived, her husband Lord Tytos had known by many as the Laughing Lion. After her death, no one could ever call him that again. That was when he had been mocked and derided by even his vassals as the Toothless Lion.

No one would ever think or dare to call his eldest son by that moniker. Lord Tywin had teeth, and anyone with the sense of a goat would never try to provoke him into bearing them. The last time someone did… a very ominous and infamous song had been written about what Tywin had done to them in response.

The Lady Jeyne was part of another blockade that had been established along the northwestern coast of Fair Isle. Lord Tywin Lannister himself was on board, commanding the whole of that fleet from the bridge. He was known to rule more by fear than by discipline, but his blockade was every bit as formidable and stalwart as Lord Stannis'.

Sandor was there to serve as Lord Tywin's squire and as the commander of the units from House Clegane of Clegane's Keep. For that very reason, Obara had accompanied him. Although she was not yet a member of House Clegane, she would be soon enough.

Her presence on the vessel had garnered a lot of stares and scowls, all of which she had decisively ignored.

Glare at me all you want. It won't make me disappear or change the fact that I'm here.

The Lady Jeyne was fully manned, and it carried half a dozen platoons of Royal Army soldiers. Most of them were Westerlanders by origin. That did not surprise Obara in the least.

Only in the company of his own does the lion feel comfortable. Then again, 'comfortable' may be too strong a word.

Obara was not bothered by the fact that she was one of the few on board who was not sworn to the Westerlands. After all, if she had been born a Westerlander, she would not have been here. Of course, she would marry into the Westerlands soon enough. Luckily for her, her betrothed was more broad-minded than most of his compatriots, and he did not wish to squander her abilities. He had seen her fight, and he knew she possessed excellent combat prowess.

Apart from that, one of the six platoons was composed of the men-at-arms of House Clegane. Obara had gotten to know each of them very well over the past year. She could identify each by his name, his face, and his strengths and weaknesses. Most of them already thought of her as their lady. Obara was comforted by the knowledge that if any of the other soldiers on board the Lady Jeyne tried to harass her, they would intervene. But only if things got out of hand. After all, it was no secret that Obara could defend herself as well as any man there.

In any case, Lord Tywin Lannister would not allow any disputes to erupt into quarrels on board his ship. He tolerated no nonsense or disorder from the units under his command. With that in mind, Obara would not have to worry about any serious "disagreements" breaking out until the Ironborn showed up.

Still, being so close to Tywin Lannister was not exactly appealing to her. The man was responsible for the murder of her cousins. Her father Prince Oberyn had told her how Ser Amory Lorch had – under Tywin's orders – killed Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon and attempted to kill her aunt Elia. It was only by the valiant actions of Lord Gregor Clegane that her aunt still lived.

Had Princess Elia died alongside her children, another war might have broken out between the Westerlands and Dorne. Her survival prevented that, but her children's deaths had greatly impaired relations between those two regions.

Her marriage to Sandor would be the first of many steps in the process of mending their relations. That was the chief political advantage of their union. As it happened, great many factors of their union were political in origin. But needless to say, there was more than politics at work there.

Obara was still uncertain if she actually loved Sandor, and she was more than a little certain that he did not really love her just yet. Nevertheless, no one could deny that the two of them were quite taken with one another. They had come to admire and respect each other's strengths, as well as accept and embrace each other's weaknesses.

Additionally, they were both still at the age when it was not uncommon for one to be playful with members of the opposite gender. The two of them enjoyed joking, japing, and jesting. They even liked to tease each other (but only in an affectionate manner).

For instance, there were the occasions when Sandor referred to Obara as "Princess." He was well-aware that she detested being addressed that way, even though it was now her rightful title by all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms. He mostly just called her that because he found her exasperated reaction to it amusing.

While Obara was annoyed, she had never gotten angry with Sandor. Instead, she had decided to come up with a pet name for him, as well. In this case, "pet name" was a rather fitting label; she had started to call him "The Hound."

As it happened, Sandor did not mind that moniker. If anything, he thought it appropriate, given the sigil of his house. However, Obara did not daub him "The Hound" simply because of the three dogs he wore on his doublet. She also called him that because in the time since their betrothal had first been considered, he had gone out of his way to spend much of his time with her. Sometimes, he followed her around like a loyal puppy.

Obara knew he was not obsessed or infatuated with her; he merely wished to know more of the woman who would be his wife. She could understand and relate to that desire. She actually thought it was sweet of him. But she never told him that; in her experience, gruff men like Sandor Clegane did not wish to be described as "sweet."

Obara was only the first to label Sandor "The Hound." Before too long, the other occupants of Clegane's Keep had taken to calling him that, too. However, even when using that moniker, they still addressed Sandor with respect. The servants generally went with "M'lord Hound," and the men-at-arms used "Master Hound." His parents frequently alternated between the name they had given him and the name Obara had given him. Ellyn Clegane called her brother "Hound" so much and so often that one would think she had forgotten his birth name.

In the end, nearly everyone who lived or worked in the keep was referring to their future master as "The Hound." Obara was a little astounded by how that title had gotten so popular so quickly. She was not even part of the Clegane family yet, and already she was influencing them and their retainers.

To her dismay, though, some of them had fallen Sandor's example, as well. Every now and then, she would be addressed by someone as "Princess" or "Your Grace." Actually, "Your Grace," she did not mind as much. But she would have appreciated it if no one spoke to her as though she were a royal. Even if she really was one then, she had not been one for most of her life.

The Hound and the Reluctant Princess. What a pair we make.

Whatever she or her intended were, they would be fighting the upcoming battle against the Ironborn together. Lord Tywin Lannister may have discriminated on basis of gender when it came to selecting his generals, but even he did not deny capable warrior women the opportunity to utilize their skills. For that much, Obara was grateful.

Shortly before they set sail, Lord Tywin had convened a meeting between the top commanders of his company. Obara had not attended, as she had not been permitted to. Sandor had been permitted to, but only because he was the squire to the Lord of Casterly Rock. Gregor and Dacey were there because they were the leaders of the Legion without Banners.

After the meeting, Sandor came to his betrothed and briefed her on the more important or noteworthy parts of the conversation. Most of it was just battle plans or strategies for creating and maintaining the blockade. However, there were a few… intriguing points.

Namely, there was the issue of who would be leading the Ironborn at this encounter. Lord Balon's younger brother Euron Greyjoy – known by many as the Crow's Eye – would be heading the invasion force aboard his Silence.

Even in the days of Lord Quellon, the Crow's Eye had been feared by those who lived on the west coast. His name was far more infamous across the Narrow Sea, as his father had never officially outlawed raiding there. He had plundered Yi Ti, Asshai, Ibben, Qohor, the Summer Isles, and even the ruins of Old Valyria. Because of that, he had accumulated much wealth in his travels.

Lord Tywin Lannister believed the battle would be a short one if Euron Greyjoy was taken out fairly early. He had given his officers an incentive to carry out that objective quickly. He declared that whoever managed to capture or kill the Crow's Eye could lay claim to his cargo.

If Sandor did not have Obara's full attention before, he certainly did when he made that point. She was amazed that Lord Tywin would make such a generous offer. Any other commander in the Royal Army – except Lord Eddard Stark, and possibly Lord Gregor Clegane – would have seized the Crow's Eye's riches for himself.

Either Tywin Lannister is not as utterly harsh and cruel as I was led to believe, or he really does shit gold.

Neither of those options seemed very plausible. In fact, the latter almost had a greater probability of being true than the former.

In any case, Obara was hoping the Lady Jeyne would have the opportunity to meet the Silence in battle. While the former Sand Snake personally carried little for gold and jewels, that much wealth would be beneficial to ensuring the endurance of her future house. Furthermore, the Silence carried things far more valuable than gold and jewels.

The exact size or composition of Euron's inventory was unknown, but Sandor had heard tell that he possessed a number of Valyrian steel blades. He told Obara of a master blacksmith in King's Landing who had been trained to handle Valyrian steel. If he was given enough of the substance, he could melt the metal down and reforge it.

After he informed her of this, Sandor had told Obara that if they managed to claim the Valyrian steel aboard the Silence, Clegane's Keep could have a Valyrian steel sword of its own. He would probably make it a longsword or a bastard sword. But that was not all. He brazenly offered Obara "How about I get you a Valyrian steel-tipped spear as a betrothal gift?"

Obara actually found that offer quite appealing. She was already plenty deadly with a spear. One with a Valyrian steel point might make her all but insurmountable.

Sandor mentioned that the Crow's Eye may have had enough Valyrian steel to forge at least four weapons. He felt it would be wrong if only one branch of House Clegane acquired such a rare and precious blade. As such, he wanted to have a greatsword made for his brother, and a longsword or bastard sword for his sister-by-law.

Sandor revealed that he and Gregor had made a deal with each other. If either of them happened to subdue Euron Greyjoy, they would share his supply of Valyrian steel with each other. Dacey had consented to that arrangement, so Obara felt she could, as well. She just hoped no one would beat them to the Crow's Eye.

Gregor Clegane and Dacey Mormont were stationed aboard the warship Sea Lion, another vessel that had been saved from the burning at Lannisport. Lord Tywin's blockade covered the entire northwestern border of Fair Isle. However, the Sea Lion was posted near the rightmost section of the blockade, whereas the Lady Jeyne was posted near the center. So there were a few dozen ships separating the Clegane brothers. But neither feared for the other's safety. The Mountain and the Hound were strong men, and anyone who said otherwise was a fool.

Once the blockade was in place, Obara spent much of her time interacting with the few people onboard the Lady Jeyne that she was familiar with. Since the entirety of the units from Clegane's Keep were there, she and Sandor were able to converse with Ser Wallis Peckledon and the other men-at-arms.

Interestingly, Ser Wallis was one of the fifty people that had been selected as a thrower for Gregor's black powder pouches. The Legionnaire that had been assigned to supervise and protect him was Garth Hightower, a member of Gregor's inner circle.

Also on board was Lord Tywin's youngest brother, Ser Gerion Lannister, who also happened to be in the Mountain's inner circle. He was rumored to have shown more loyalty to Lord Gregor than he ever had to his brother. Two of Gregor's men-at-arms, Tobbot and Rafford, were there, as well.

Obara knew that no one on the Lady Jeyne was there without Lord Tywin's leave. She wondered why Tywin had agreed to put so many of Gregor's closest companions on his flagship. Perhaps he wished to observe them; see just how disciplined they were when they served under a different commander. That was one theory. Whatever his motivations, he must have had his reasons for keeping the Mountain's men close to him.

In any case, Obara did find their presence somewhat comforting. Her father and sister were both at Seagard, and the half-dozen Dornishmen that had accompanied her to the Westerlands had stayed behind. As a result, Sandor was the closest thing she had to family on the Lady Jeyne. After him, the next closest was Ser Gerion, Garth, Ser Wallis, and the other Clegane men. None of them were Dornish, but they had treated her like family at Moat Cailin and Clegane's Keep.

Obara noted that the men on the Lady Jeyne were restless. That was not surprising. Most of them had never fought the Ironborn before, and those who had did not desire to do so again. She personally did not know what to expect. As far as she was aware, Dorne had almost never been raided. It had as little in common with the Iron Islands as the Vale did with the Reach. She was not even old enough to remember the days before Quellon Greyjoy. Still, she could imagine that she would always remember the upcoming encounter with the Ironborn. It would be her first true taste of battle, after all.

Once the blockade was formed, Obara wondered how long it would be before the Ironborn actually came. As it turned out… not that long.

Unlike the company at Seagard, the company at Fair Isle did not have to wait twelve whole hours. Euron Greyjoy proved to be much more eager than his brash nephew. Just three hours after Lord Tywin's ships arrived at Fair Isle, a great host of enemy vessels was spotted in the distance.

"Everyone to attention!" Lord Tywin sternly shouted.

As that command was repeated along the column of the blockade, everyone moved to their predetermined posts. Obara was stationed on the bridge. Sandor was there, as well. He was in the process of helping Lord Tywin into his armor.

It was a long process, but Sandor had been doing it before years. He could put Tywin Lannister's armor on blindfolded (and actually had). He even claimed to know his liege lord's exact measurements. Obara did not know whether to be impressed or disturbed by that.

Sandor was fast yet efficient. It took him no longer than ninety seconds to dress Tywin Lannister. When he was finished, the lion lord was clad from head to heel in enameled plate. His brother Gerion and the Lannister men-at-arms were dressed similarly.

As for Sandor, the Hound wore a mail hauberk, along with gauntlets and greaves of lobstered steel. Garth Hightower, Wallis Peckledon, and most of the crew preferred that variety of armor, as well.

Obara was dressed in her typical Dornish leather armor. It was not as protective as the metal armor of the other Seven Kingdoms, but it enabled her to remain light and nimble. After adorning a half-helm, she picked up her spear and held it firmly in both hands.

By the time everyone was properly armed and armored, the Ironmen were considerably closer than they had been when Tywin first ordered them to their positions.

From her spot on the bridge, Obara could see everything that was happening on the command deck. She saw Ser Wallis Peckledon and Garth Hightower at the very front of the bough. Ser Wallis had his supply of twenty-two black powder pouches in front of him. No one had brought him a torch just yet.

Obara had seen the very first demonstration of black powder at Casterly Rock. It had amazed her then, and she was certain it would amaze her now.

We'll give those Ironborn a proper "greelander" welcome.

Lord Tywin did not put very much faith in black powder. Having served an insane monarch who worshipped wildfire, he was wary of using what was described as its dry equivalent. If the decision had been his, he would have forgone the powder and relied on groups of archers instead. But Robert Baratheon himself had authorized and demanded the use of black powder, and even Tywin could not refuse the King.

Not this King, anyway.

So Tywin had agreed to take on seventeen of Gregor Clegane's fifty handpicked throwers. Even so, he kept a large number of archers in reserve. Obara and everyone else could hardly protest. Having a contingency plan never harmed anyone. Apart from that… Lord Tywin did not take kindly to people who obstinately disagreed with him.

When the Ironborn were a hundred yards away, Lord Tywin gave the command for the throwers to be given their lights. Gerion Lannister brought Ser Wallis Peckledon a torch, which Ser Wallis promptly accepted.

When the Ironborn were sixty yards away, Lord Tywin called for the throwers to prepare for the first volley. At that, Ser Wallis took up the first of his pouches.

When the Ironborn were less than twenty yards away, Lord Tywin authorized the throwers to set fire to their pouches. Ser Wallis carefully moved the flame of his torch to the string of his pouch. Even from higher ground over twenty feet away, Obara could see the wick catching fire.

Not long after that, Lord Tywin shouted for the throwers to release. Ser Wallis Peckledon chucked his pouch at the nearest ship. The instant it touched the bough of the Ironborn vessel, it exploded in a cloud of smoke, doing substantial damage to the hull and a number of the vessel's crew. Even from the bridge, Obara could smell the burnt coal and sulfur.

After that, Lord Tywin told the throwers to use their remaining pouches of black powder at will. Ser Wallis was quick to obey that command.

Over the next several minutes, pouches were thrown from all along the blockade. Everywhere they landed, agonized screams and the sounds of shattering wood could be heard.

Any sensible foe would have turned their ships around after the fourth or fifth wave of pouches. The Ironmen, however, were a stubborn lot. Furthermore, this armada was better-equipped than the one that had sailed to Seagard.

Unlike Rodrik Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy had not neglected to include archers in his ranks. He brought them out after the sixth wave of black powder pouches. Soon enough, the sky was filled with the arrows of Iron bows. Then it was the royalists' turn to scream. Scores of them were claimed in the first volley alone.

None of the arrows reached the bridge of the Lady Jeyne. However, the lower part of the command deck was within range. Every now and then, Ser Wallis Peckledon, Garth Hightower, and everyone else on that level had to duck down to avoid being hit.

Lord Tywin hastily called out their own archers in retaliation. Before too long, arrows were flying back and forth between the two sides. So much was happening that hardly anyone had time to aim. Most had to resort to pointing, notching, and releasing in rapid succession. That approach was successful for some, but ineffective for most.

Even the throwers were unable to concentrate on a target for long. But they never launched another pouch of black powder unless they were certain they would not miss.

Soon the Ironborn ships reached the Royal Army's. The foe already had boarding parties at the ready. Soon, bows were exchanged for blades, and clashing steel was audible all along the column. A number of Iron vessels attempted to break through, but the blockade held.

So much activity was happening off the coast of Fair Isle, but Obara could only focus on her immediate surroundings.

Ser Wallis Peckledon moved very quickly. In the span of ten minutes, he managed to sink four Ironborn vessels with twenty of his pouches.

Before long, he was down to his last pouch. He would have to make this one count; one single pouch would do little damage.

Just then, Obara's eye caught a certain vessel. It was as big as the Lady Jeyne and far more ominous. It had a single mast, and a massive black sail with a golden kraken had been erected. Its hull was painted a dark shade of red.

That has to be the Silence.

A moment later, Obara saw the ship's name imprinted on its side, and she confirmed her theory.

A tall figure was standing at the bough of the ship. By squinting her eyes, Obara was able to determine that he had long black hair, and a patch was over his left eye. On the breastplate of his armor, an image was imprinted. It was a red eye with a black pupil beneath a black iron crown supported by two crows.

No question; he's the Crow's Eye.

The Crow's Eye seemed to have noticed her; he was glaring right at her. Or perhaps it was Lord Tywin Lannister he was staring at. In any case, he had noticed the Lady Jeyne, and the Silence was coming directly towards the lion lord's flagship.

Obara went to the front of the bridge and called out "Ser Wallis!"

In response, the master-at-arms of Clegane's Keep turned around and gazed up at her. Once she had his attention, she pointed in the direction of the Silence. Ser Wallis followed her finger, and he spotted Euron Greyjoy at the front his fearsome vessel. Obara could not see Ser Wallis' face, but she was certain he was smirking at that moment.

Obara Martell watched as Ser Wallis Peckledon picked up his last pouch of black powder. He waited until he could see the white of Euron Greyjoy's one visible eye. Then he ignited the wick of his pouch. Once the flame vanished beneath the mouth of the pouch, Ser Wallis looked up and raised his arm in the air.

Obara expected him to throw the pouch straightaway. He did not. He seemed to freeze in his stance.

A moment later, Ser Wallis Peckledon collapsed onto his back. To her horror, Obara realized that an arrow was protruding from his throat. Ser Wallis had been shot down by an archer from another vessel.

The pouch of black powder was still lit. It slowly rolled out of Ser Wallis' hand. Garth Hightower hurriedly moved to pick it up and dispose of it. He managed to swipe it up of the ground, but before he could toss the pouch overboard or fling it elsewhere, its contents came into contact with the flaming string.

Obara turned away before the explosion came. When it did come, she expected a shout or yell to accompany it. But she heard nothing of the sort; not even a yelp of shock.'

After about ten seconds, Obara forced herself to look back at the bough. Part of the mast had been blown off, and the ramparts were knocked a little loose. A small fire had broken out near the front of the deck. Several crewmen had ducked for cover, but Gerion Lannister bravely made his way through the cloud of smoke.

Even before the smoke lifted, Obara could predict what Ser Gerion would find. Sure enough, she saw Ser Garth Hightower lying flat on his back. While his body was somehow intact, it was devoid of all signs of life. Ser Gerion shook him vigorously in effort to incite a reaction out of him, but he got nothing.

Just like that, the Lady Jeyne had lost two of her crew. Unfortunately, that was the least of the surviving crew's worries. The Silence was almost upon them.

Tywin Lannister seemed unfazed. He stoically declared "Take up your steel!"

At that, Obara raised her spear, and Sandor drew his bastard sword. Gerion Lannister, Rafford, Tobbot, and everyone else bared their melee weapons, as well. Lord Tywin brought out his longsword, but Obara doubted he planned to actually use it. Tywin Lannister was an excellent swordsman, and he could never be called a craven, but in a battle, he deemed himself most useful at the sidelines, directing the actions of his subordinates.

Not twenty seconds later, the Silence reached the Lady Jeyne. The first boarding party was about to cross over. Euron Greyjoy himself would be leading it.

"Your orders, my lord?" Sandor requested.

Lord Tywin remained focused on the menacing Ironborn galley and its equally-menacing captain. Without the slightest indication of emotion, he muttered quietly "Spill their blood."

Right away, Obara Martell, Sandor Clegane, and everyone else on the bridge apart from Lord Tywin's personal guard made their way to the bough. Soon after, they met with Euron Greyjoy's encroaching warriors.

Obara had heard that the Silence was manned by mutes. Apparently, that was not a measly rumor; none of Euron's men unleashed a battle cry. Then again, neither did the Crow's Eye himself.

One of the very first boarders immediately went for Obara. He waved a huge mace at her head, and she evaded the blow just in time. He swung again at her chest, but she darted backwards. As he raised his weapon for a third move, she thrust her spear upwards. It pierced through the underside of his chin, and it went so deep that the tip remerged from the top of his head. Obara withdrew her spear as the mute slumped onto the ground.

Nearby, Sandor was engaging two more boarders in combat simultaneously. One brandished a heavy battle axe; the other a spiked club. They both launched a number of blows at Sandor's head. Sandor was one of the few people on either side who wore no protection for his head. Obara knew he had never been fond of helms, but she knew he would manage well enough without one.

Indeed, after dodging and countering the attacks of his two opponents for thirty seconds, he threw a cut at the throat of the one with the spiked club. That mute dropped his club, and his hands went to his neck as blood leaked out of it. As he bled out, his associate slashed at Sandor's chest. Sandor ducked, and when he came back up, he plunged his sword into his second adversary's chest. This mute fell to his knees as his entrails began to leak out of his midsection. He breathed his last before his head even touched the deck.

Obara did not know how long the fighting went on for. It felt like hours. In actuality, it was only minutes. Obara found the skirmish quite exhilarating. Unfortunately, not every member of the Lady Jeyne's crew managed as well as her and Sandor. The crew of the Silence had its share of capable fighters, too. Euron Greyjoy himself managed to bring down five Westerlanders singlehandedly.

At one point, Gerion Lannister engaged Euron Greyjoy in single combat. Obara was able to catch glimpses of their encounter. Both men were unbelievably fast. So fast, in fact, that Obara had difficulty discerning which blade was Gerion's and which was Euron's. For a while, no one on either side dared to intervene for fear of being cut down.

After five uninterrupted minutes of intense swordplay, their match reached its conclusion. It ended in Euron's favor when his sword went for Gerion's left arm. The lion warrior yelled in pain as his foe's blade sliced through his gauntlet. The steel cut his forearm deep, almost to the bone. Euron nearly took off his arm.

The Crow's Eye extracted his blade and prepared to strike again. Obara Martell and Sandor Clegane rushed to intercede. Sandor brought his sword between Euron's and Gerion, deflecting the blow in the nick of time. The captain of the Silence growled in frustration at being denied his kill, but he hastily diverted his attention to his new challenger.

"Obara, get Gerion to safety!" Sandor told his intended, maintaining eye contact with Euron Greyjoy.

She nodded and helped Ser Gerion off the ground. She brought his undamaged arm around his shoulder and escorted him away from the scene. To her good fortune, none of her enemies tried to come near here. But neither did any of her allies. She looked to the lion warrior and asked him "Are you alright, Gerion?"

He weakly turned to look at her, grinned slightly, and murmured "Y-yes. Th-thank you, Obara."

She smiled back and asserted "Anytime."

From behind her, Obara could make out the sounds of steel striking steel. Euron Greyjoy had begun another duel. This time, it was with Sandor. Once Gerion was safely away from the conflict, Obara turned to witness the clash between her betrothed and his fearsome enemy.

The Hound was a fair amount younger than the Crow's Eye, but he was taller and stronger. Euron appeared to be the better swordsman, but Sandor had the more diverse skill set. Obara was not surprised by that.

Over the past year, Obara had taught him a few traditional Dornish tactics. Evidently, Sandor had been honing his skills from those routines. Several times, they enabled him to gain the upper hand over Euron. He was combing what Obara had taught him with his brother's teachings, essentially employing two different fighting styles at once. That made his moves utterly unpredictable, much to his (and Obara's) delight and Euron's annoyance.

In the third minute of their brawl, Sandor managed to back Euron into the front corner of the bough. The Crow's Eye realized he had nowhere else to go, but he had no intention of losing this duel. He hacked viciously at Sandor's face. Sandor dodged the blow and deftly delivered a counterattack to his opponents' wrists. It only touched the hilt of Euron's weapon, but the force of the blow was so powerful that he lost his grip on it. His sword was knocked out of his hands, and it flew overboard. It fell through the surface of the water with a gentle splash.

Now Sandor had Euron Greyjoy trapped, unarmed, and defenseless. Obara could not help but smile.

"Surrender," Sandor heatedly advised him, pointed the tip of his sword at Euron's throat, "Or I'll send you to your Drowned God."

For a moment, it appeared as though the Crow's Eye was actually going to yield. Then his eye fell across something, and he smirked. Obara was confused… then she saw it.

The small fire that had broken out from Ser Wallis Peckledon's last pouch was still blazing. It had not gotten any bigger, but given how much flammable rubble was around it, it would not go out any time soon, either. It continued giving off heat and light near the bough of the Lady Jeyne. That was less than five feet from the mast, which was where Sandor and Euron currently were.

Euron Greyjoy slowly raised his arms and said in a deceptively calm voice "Very well, boy. I give in."

Sandor gradually lowered his sword and gave a nod of his head. He took Euron by the shoulder and gestured for him to come along. Euron did so, but as he walked, his eye drifted to the fire at the head of the bough.

Obara jumped up from Gerion's side and shouted "SANDOR, LOOK OU-"

Before she could finish, Euron slid his legs between Sandor's and tripped him. The heir to Clegane's Keep lost his balance and fell onto his stomach. He landed directly beside the fire, his head less than a foot away from it.

Euron rapidly knelt down next to Sandor, seized his head in both hands, and shoved him towards the blaze. Sandor's face came in direct contact with the flame.

The sound that emanated from Sandor's mouth was practically inhuman. It was not a shriek, a wail, or a scream. It was like the sound of a dragon being tortured in the worst possible fashion. Of course, fire did not harm dragons. The same could not be said of humans. Or hounds.

At first, Obara could only stare in utter terror as Euron Greyjoy held her betrothed's head against the fire. She thought she could smell his flesh cooking. It did not smell very different from the aroma of venison roasting over a spit. That thought only made her feel even more uneasy.

She was finally brought back to reality when Ser Gerion Lannister shouted at her "Obara, do something!"

At that, Obara Martell cleared her head, took up her spear again, and charged towards Euron Greyjoy.

To her displeasure, another of Euron's mutes came between them. She tried to go around him, but everywhere she went, he managed to jump in front of her. Everyone else was still preoccupied, so Obara was forced to fend him off.

In the end, she did not have to save Sandor. He was able to save himself. Even when overcome with unspeakable pain, he had not forgotten that he was still carrying steel. His bastard sword had fallen out of his reach, but a dagger was still sheathed in his belt.

Through tremendous force of will, Sandor brought his left hand to the hilt of his dagger and drew it from its scabbard. His left eye gazed upward and saw Euron's head directly above his. He brought his arm around, gave a bloodthirsty yell, and thrust his hand upward.

The dagger sank full into the side of Euron's throat. The sadistic grin on his face was quickly replaced by an astounded grimace. Immediately, he released his grip on Sandor's head. The Hound extracted his dagger and stabbed the Crow's Eye again. This time, Euron stumbled backward and landed on his side.

Sandor had just enough strength left to pull his head out of the fire. Once he was safely away from the embers, his arms dropped listlessly to his side.

By then, Obara had eliminated her own adversary. After she removed her spearhead from the mute's chest cavity, she rushed to Sandor's side and turned him over. The right side of his face was much redder than the left side.

Obara swiftly removed her helm and pressed her ear against Sandor's chest. His heart was still beating, but he had passed out. Obara frantically shook him, hoping against hope that that would bring him back to consciousness.

She roughly patted his arms, saying agitatedly "Sandor? Sandor. Sandor!"

After a minute, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around with her spear raised, but the hand's owner was only Tobbot. He backed away in alarm and told her "I mean no harm, m'lady. I only wish to ask if you would like some assistance."

What the fuck do you think?!

Obara was annoyed by the redundancy of that question, but she kept herself from losing her temper. She lowered her spear and stated in a tone as serene as she could muster "Yes, yes, please. Sandor's badly hurt. He needs a maester NOW."

Tobbot nodded in acknowledgment and moved to assist his lord's younger brother. Rafford the Sweetling quickly came to assist him. Working together, the two of them carried the wounded Sandor Clegane off the command deck and to the medical bay.

The fighting aboard the Lady Jeyne was rapidly coming to an end. After the death of their captain, the crew of the Silence seemed to have lost their confidence. It was not long before they were overcome. Most of them were put to the sword; the rest were clapped in irons.

Lord Tywin Lannister ordered a group of his own men to board the Silence and take control of the galley. If the surviving members of the crew resisted, they were to be executed. If they surrendered, they were to be put in chains and confined to quarters.

Tywin had given his boarders firm instructions that they were not to seize anything in the cargo bay. He had seen Sandor's triumph over Euron Greyjoy, and he declared that the contents of the Silence were now the sole property of House Clegane.

Ordinarily, Obara would have been pleased. She and Sandor had been hoping to win custody of the Silence's caches. But after what her betrothed had gone through to earn that treasure, she wondered if it was all truly worth it.

Less than an hour after the Silence was commandeered by Lord Tywin's units, the rest of the Ironborn armada disbanded. Over half of their ships managed to retreat; the rest had been scuttled or taken by the ships of the blockade.

The sea-battle off the coast of Fair Isle was another victory for the Royal Army, but their losses were over three times greater than what they had been at Seagard. Lord Tywin seemed unperturbed by the greater casualty list. Not only was he expecting a greater fight from Euron Greyjoy, but he was also rather dispassionate when his troops were concerned.

Obara was not surprised that Lord Tywin was not bothered by his losses, but she was outraged at his indifference to what had happened to his own squire. Especially since said squire had saved his youngest brother from losing a limb (or worse).

Whenever Tywin gazed in her direction, Obara retained a neutral expression. But behind his back, she sneered at him angrily.

If Sandor dies, you will join him, Lion.

She was very serious in that allegation. She was fully aware that killing Lord Tywin would bring about her own death and ruin Dorne's relations with the Westerlands, but Obara did not care. The only reason Sandor had been aboard the Lady Jeyne was because of his liege lord, and Tywin Lannister had sent him into the fray. But Lord Tywin himself had not even directly participated in the fighting.

Obara was unable to see Sandor whilst the maesters were tending to him. They would not even give her progress reports on his well-being. To keep her mind occupied (and to avoid fearing for the worst), Obara busied herself with examining the cargo hold of the Silence. She discovered there was enough wealth for even the most destitute house in Westeros to thrive. Gold, jewels, and other valuable trinkets were in abundance.

Obara wondered who these items had belonged to previously. Given Euron Greyjoy's reputation, most of the former owners were likely dead. Some were probably still alive. If so, the right thing would have been to return their stolen goods to them. However, those individuals were half a world away, between the Port of Ibben and Asshai by the Shadow. The expenses of bringing back their lost property could have greatly outweighed the value of the property itself.

I wonder if that's ample justification for holding onto all of this.

Most lords in the Seven Kingdoms might have thought so. There were some, such as Stannis Baratheon and Eddard Stark, that might have called it laziness or selfishness instead. Even so, by right of conquest, everything aboard the Silence belonged the House Clegane.

Both branches of House Clegane. That was the arrangement.

Obara spent an hour searching through the vast piles of treasure. She managed to locate a large stash of Valyrian steel daggers. There had to be scores of them. There were enough to arm the entire crew of the Silence.

There's definitely enough for a spearhead, a longsword, a bastard sword, and a greatsword.

She could find some comfort in that, at least.

When Obara finally returned to the bridge of the Silence and climbed back aboard the Lady Jeyne, she noticed another ship drop its anchor nearby. She discovered it was the Sea Lion.

A gangplank was extended between the two ships so the people onboard both could traverse between them safely. After the gangplank was secured, several of the Sea Lion's passengers crossed over to the Lady Jeyne. Gregor Clegane and Dacey Mormont were the first to come aboard.

Obara tentatively approached the Mountain and his wife. When they saw her, she lightly bowed to them, and they bowed back. She briefly looked them over. Their armor was dented in some places and soaked with blood in others, but they appeared unharmed. The hull of the Sea Lion was riddled with arrows, but other than that, it was undamaged.

"How'd it go?" Obara enquired curiously.

"We managed to sink the Golden Storm, Aeron Greyjoy's longship," Dacey informed her merrily.

"He was floating in the water for a half-hour before we fished him out," Gregor recounted, scoffing a bit, "Now he rests in the brig of the Sea Lion."

"Nice," Obara commented.

After a short pause, Dacey queried "What about you? Did anything exciting happen on your end?"

Obara hesitated at first. She did not know how to break the news of what had happened. But her quietness would have been enough to reveal that something was amiss.

She ultimately began with "We suffered some losses. Chief among them are Ser Wallis Peckledon and Garth Hightower."

Gregor and Dacey seemed dismayed by that. Obara could understand why. Ser Wallis had been the master-at-arms of Clegane's Keep since the days when the Mountain had been the keep's heir. Ever since she came to the Westerlands, Obara had grown fond of the middle-aged knight. Dacey had never actually met Ser Wallis, but she would mourn for him merely because her husband would.

Garth Hightower, on the other hand, would be properly mourned by both Gregor and Dacey. was one of the top officers of the Legion without Banners. Not only that; he served on Gregor's secret council. The same council Obara's father was a part of. Prince Oberyn had spoken kindly of Garth Hightower. That by itself said something; there were few genuine friendships between a Reachman and a Dornishman in those days.

"However…" Obara resumed, hoping to give the conversation a bit of a more positive edge, "There is some good news. Euron Greyjoy is dead."

Dacey and Gregor seemed to brighten up at that. The Bear Islander enquired "Who was it that slew him?"

"Sandor had that honor," Obara notified them, pride easily discernable in her voice.

Gregor and Dacey Clegane were even more elated by that piece of news. The Mountain stated "So, does that mean…?"

Obara nodded and diverted their attention to the nearby galley with the black sail. As they turned to the Silence, she pronounced "That ship and everything on it is now Sandor's. And, by extension, yours and mine."

"Anything good?" Dacey asked rhetorically.

"Some gold and jewels here and there," Obara slyly replied, "And a fine assortment of Valyrian steel daggers."

At that, her two tall companions hastily turned back to her.

"How many?" Gregor queried curiously.

"Enough," was all Obara said in response.

That one word by itself was enough to answer the real question on the Mountain's mind. He broke into a wide smile and muttered "I'd better congratulate and thank Sandor when next I see him."

Obara softly nodded his head, trying not to frown.

Then Dacey looked around the deck and inquired "Where is Sandor?"

Obara had been dreading that question, but she knew it could not be avoided.

They have to know eventually.

"He's… well…he's…" she began uneasily, gazing off to the side.

By the break in her speech and her deliberate avoidance of making eye contact, Gregor and Dacey surmised that something was quite wrong.

"Obara?" Gregor beckoned her.

Finally, Obara Martell let out a sigh and told them grimly "Follow me."

She then took them below the command deck of the Lady Jeyne, and she led them all the way to the medical bay. When she got there, she lightly tapped on the door.

By this point, the ship's maester had finished treating the wounded. He came to the door and opened it just enough to peek outside. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Sandor Clegane," Obara Martell remarked.

"He is in no condition to receive visitors, my lady," the maester apprised her.

"Not even his brother?" Gregor Clegane retorted sharply, stepping into the maester's field of vision.

At the sight of the massive Lord of Moat Cailin, the maester changed his mind. He slowly opened the door and stood aside. He mumbled softly "Very well. But please refrain from making any loud noises. He and many others are still recovering."

Obara, Gregor, and Dacey quietly stepped inside the infirmary. All of the beds – and some spots on the floor – were occupied. Relatively few of the bodies were covered by sheets. The rest were still breathing and moving.

Most of the victims were being treated for sword or arrow wounds. Gerion Lannister was among them; he was sitting up in bed with his left arm in a sling. He smiled at his companions when they entered; they smiled back.

"Are you alright?" Gregor asked his longest-serving Legionnaire.

"I'm fine," Gerion assured him, "All thanks to the Hound."

Gregor chuckled at that. Of all the people who had heard Obara's pet name for her betrothed, Gregor Clegane appeared to join it the most. In fact, by the way he acted, one would have thought that he… expected Sandor to be given that moniker. Obara could not account for that, but then again, she did not particularly care.

Gerion then frowned a bit and gestured to the other end of the room. He proclaimed "Sandor's over there."

Obara, Gregor, and Dacey turned around and saw Sandor Clegane on a bed in the corner. He was propped up on his pillows, and he barely moved at all. The right half of his face was heavily bandaged.

"Oh, no… no, no, no," Gregor tensely muttered, his eyes wide in shock. He rushed to Sandor's bedside and knelt beside him, "No, no, no, no, no!"

Obara and Dacey quickly joined the Mountain at the side of his brother's bed. Dacey placed a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. She placed her other hand on the left hand of her goodbrother.

Obara took a seat directly by the front of Sandor's bed. His uncovered left eye was open, and every few seconds, it blinked. Although he was still virtually motionless, at least he was awake now.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Gregor murmured firmly.

Obara found that statement perplexing, but Dacey was the first to speak. She asked her husband "What wasn't supposed to happen, my love?"

Gregor did not answer right away. Instead, he stared at the wall, as though he was carefully contemplating his response. After a minute, he told his wife "I promised Father I'd keep him safe."

It was then that Sandor finally spoke. He focused his eye on his brother and said quietly "This isn't your fault, Gregor. You were on another ship in a different part of the blockade. There was nothing you could have done."

Obara felt waves of relief passing over her. Her betrothed had regained his tongue, and he spoke no differently than he had before.

"How do you feel?" Dacey queried in concern.

"I can't feel the right half of my face," Sandor informed his sister-by-law, "It's like it's been melted."

"Melted?" Gregor repeated, as though the mere utterance of that word was a curse.

"The Crow's Eye forced his face into a pit of fire," Gerion Lannister disclosed from across the room. Gregor's countenance suggested he was horrified.

"But that didn't stop meet from shoving my dagger into his throat," Sandor muttered gruffly, "Twice."

Obara and Dacey smiled at that, but Gregor retained his terrified expression.

"Greg?" Sandor asked, noting his brother's apprehensive look, "What's wrong?"

Gregor did not reply. Without looking over his shoulder, he called out "Maester?"

At that, the maester appeared at the foot of Sandor's bed and uttered "Yes, my lord?"

"Remove my brother's bandages," Gregor ordered him, "I would see his injury."

Obara, Dacey, and Sandor were alarmed by how demanding he sounded. The maester appeared indifferent, but he said sternly "I must protest, sir. His wound is still healing."

"Now," Gregor said through gritted teeth, "You can wrap them back up later."

At that, the maester sighed and conceded "As you command."

Gregor, Dacey, and Obara stepped aside so that the maester could kneel beside the heir to Clegane's Keep. He slowly unfastened and unraveled the gauze that covered Sandor's face. When he was finished, he stepped aside so that the others could see the damage.

The damage was even worse than Obara thought.

The right half of Sandor's face was grotesque. Everything between his brow and his lip had been charred. The skin was blackened, as if it was dead. His nostril was much thinner. His eyelid was drooping slightly over his eye. A patch of his hair had been seared away.

For a moment, Obara felt the urge to scream. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself. She looked over at her other companions. Dacey seemed just as shocked as her. But Gregor… Gregor was downright mortified. He continued whispering in denial "No, no, no, no, no, no!"

His words and the expression on his face were enough to tip off Sandor. The Hound turned to the maester and barked tensely "Get me a looking glass."

The maester was slow and hesitant to obey, but he obeyed, all the same. He retrieved a small looking glass from his desk and brought it over to his tallest patient. He held the object out, and Sandor promptly took it in his hands.

Sandor gradually brought the looking glass up to his face. When he saw what the others saw, he was flabbergasted.

"Oh, Gods…" he mumbled as he stared at himself.

Obara wanted to say to something to comfort him, but what words could possibly comfort a man who lost nearly half his face to a fire?

After an unpleasant period of silence, Sandor gazed from the looking glass to the man who had given him it. He muttered hopefully "Maester… please tell me something can be done about this. Something. Anything."

The maester let out a sigh and professed "I have prevented the wound from festering, and I can alleviate the entirety of your pain. But I'm afraid the damage to your facial tissue is irreversible. You will bear this scar for the rest of your life, my lord."

Oh, no. You cannot be serious.

For a few moments, Sandor just stared at the maester, as though he had not heard those words. Then he reacted. He scowled and flung the looking glass at the opposite wall. As it shattered into dozens of tiny shards, Sandor let out a roar of fury.

"My lord, please," the maester beseeched him, "The other patients are trying to sleep."

"Fuck you!" Sandor spat angrily, "Their wounds will heal! According to you, mine won't!"

"If I could repair your injury, I would," the maester insisted, "But I cannot. None of my order can."

"And you're telling me I should just live with that?!" Sandor shot crossly.

"Yes, you should."

It was not the maester who spoke then, but Obara. Sandor, the maester, and everyone else turned to look at the former Sand Snake. She leaned closer to her intended and declared "Sandor, you shouldn't take your anger out on the maester. This is not his fault. It is not yours either. The only person you can blame is dead now. Killed by your hand."

"I know," Sandor muttered quietly. He had calmed down a bit, but his voice was still full of tension, "But what will other people say when they see this?"

"It shouldn't matter to you what they say," Obara contended, "Aside from that, you got this scar defending your country from hostile invaders. They will respect you for that."

"But they will still think me a freak," Sandor debated.

"No, they won't," Obara refuted.

"How can you be sure?" Sandor questioned her.

"Because you aren't a freak," Obara proclaimed, "If anyone dares to call you one, I will make them regret their words."

Sandor appeared taken aback by that. "You… you will?"

Obara firmly nodded her head and stated "I don't care if you've been permanently scarred. Burn or no burn, you and I are still betrothed to each other. I have every intention of exchanging vows with you in a sept. It will require far more than a deformity to dissuade me from that."

Sandor was speechless, but in a good way. It was as though she had given him the self-confidence he had lost. Gregor and Dacey seemed to feel much better, as well.

Obara knew it would still be a long time before they could all fully cope with Sandor's injury, but at least they were past the denial stage. There would be grief, of course, but grief would fade away.

Perhaps in time, Sandor will come to cherish his scar.

At that moment, Sandor raised himself up, cupped Obara's cheek with his left hand, and gently pulled her closer. He kissed her lightly on the lips.

A few times before the war, the two of them had kissed in private. Those kisses had always been playful. This one was fueled purely by passion. As such, Obara found it much more enjoyable.

Furthermore, to Obara's vast surprise (and delight), Sandor's kiss was not so different than it had been before his scar. His lips were just as soft, his skin just as smooth, his breath just as pleasant. If anything… his kiss felt even better. It felt special.