"My dog?"
An excited voice broke the silence in the Throne Room.
It was Prince Joffrey Baratheon.
He pushed his way out of the crowd.
His handsome, yet somewhat sickly pale face, was filled with the fanaticism of a child who had found a new toy.
He admired Lynn.
From Lynn unhorsing the Knight of Flowers with a lance at the tourney to him blocking that fatal arrow for Joffrey on the streets of King's Landing.
Lynn had long been a god-of-war-like idol in his heart.
Now, this idol was going to borrow his dog to fight a fratricidal duel!
Could there be a more thrilling, more magnificent spectacle?
"You want my dog to fight for you, Lynn?"
Joffrey excitedly ran to Lynn, looking up at him, his blue eyes shining with fervent light.
"Of course! Of course!"
He didn't even ask his mother or the King for their opinion, but impatiently turned around and shouted towards the corner of the hall.
"The Hound! Did you hear that!"
"Go! Go kill your monster brother for Lord Lynn!"
"This will surely be the most spectacular duel in King's Landing for a hundred years!"
If Lynn choosing to fight himself was madness, then his choice of The Hound was absurd.
Everyone's gaze simultaneously fell upon the man standing in the corner of the Throne Room.
Sandor Clegane.
He wore simple chainmail, his iconic dog-head helmet tucked under his arm, revealing half of his face, horribly scarred by fire.
He was merely the Prince's guard, a loyal yet fierce dog.
Here, his status was low, he didn't even have the right to speak.
He was strong, there was no doubt about that.
But his opponent was The Mountain.
It was his own brother, Gregor Clegane!
It was the devil who had made him this way!
Everyone knew the hatred between the brothers, but no one believed Sandor had even the slightest chance of winning.
Gregor was a giant, a monster.
And Sandor was just doing dirty work for Joffrey, completely incomparable to the notorious Gregor.
Sandor, in front of his brother, was like an ordinary hound facing a raging giant bear.
"Haha... hahahaha!"
A sharp, piercing laugh cut through the silence.
It was Petyr Baelish.
He was slumped in his wheelchair, laughing so hard he was doubled over, tears streaming down his face.
"The Hound?"
"You chose The Hound?"
He pointed at Lynn, his twisted face full of the ecstasy of surviving a disaster and unconcealed mockery.
"Lord Lynn, you really are... unexpected."
"I thought you would choose a true warrior, I didn't expect..."
He shook his head, as if watching a huge joke.
"Are you giving up?"
He won!
He won completely!
Lynn, this fool!
He actually gave up the only possible variable, choosing a dead dog that was bound to lose!
Ned Stark's heart sank to the bottom.
He couldn't understand why Lynn would do this.
How was this different from telling Sandor to commit suicide?
"Sandor!"
Joffrey ignored Littlefinger, pointing at The Hound with an unquestionable commanding tone.
"Agree to it!"
"Lord Lynn has chosen you, this is your honor!"
Joffrey's words instantly made Cersei's face turn ashen.
She wanted to stop him, but found herself unable to speak.
Her son was using his princely status to push House Lannister's two strongest dogs into a fratricidal arena!
And all of this was for the man she hated most, and also feared most!
From beginning to end, Sandor Clegane had not spoken.
He just stood there.
When Lynn linked his name with the term "champion knight," a subtle ripple flashed in his deep-set eyes.
When Prince Joffrey gave the order, he slowly raised his head.
His gaze swept over everyone.
Past the sympathetic, mocking, gloating gazes.
His gaze finally landed on the huge figure standing like a mountain.
His brother.
Gregor Clegane.
The Mountain felt his gaze and slowly turned his head.
No expression could be seen on his helmet-obscured face, but a low laugh rumbled in his throat.
That laugh was full of contempt and disdain.
As if looking at a hyena ignorant of death, presumptuously trying to challenge a lion.
Time, at this moment, seemed to stand still.
Everyone held their breath, watching these brothers about to stage a fated duel.
The air almost solidified.
Finally, Sandor moved.
He ignored Joffrey's command, and he did not look at his arrogant brother.
He turned around and took heavy steps, walking one by one to Lynn's front.
His height was nearly seven feet, a giant among ordinary people.
But he didn't seem out of place in front of Lynn.
His horribly scarred face was less than a foot from Lynn's.
He stared intensely into Lynn's eyes.
Those gray eyes no longer held their usual numbness and irritability.
Instead, there was an extremely complex emotion.
There was doubt, scrutiny, vigilance.
And, in the deepest part.
That hint of longing he himself was unwilling to admit.
"Why me?"
His voice was hoarse, for it was the first thing he had said all night.
"Sandor, it's not you helping me, but because I want to help you."
Lynn's answer was simple and direct.
Lynn's gaze was like a sharp Valyrian steel dagger.
It easily cut open the shell Sandor had disguised with numbness and violence for over a decade, reaching the deepest scar in his heart.
Sandor's body trembled imperceptibly.
He had lived for thirty years.
Everyone looked at him as if he were a dog.
King Robert's dog, Lannister's dog, Prince Joffrey's dog.
A fierce, obedient, but never presentable dog.
No one had ever looked at him with such eyes.
As if he was born to stand on this stage, to accomplish the thing he yearned for, yet dared not hope for.
"I am not a knight."
Sandor's voice was still dry and low.
"I know."
Lynn nodded.
"Knights have too much hypocrisy and restraint."
"And you, you only need to do one thing."
"That is to personally dig out your brother's heart under the gaze of the gods, all the people of the city, and heaven and earth."
"Wash away your childhood nightmares, wash away your shame with his blood."
Childhood nightmares... the burning coals, the searing pain pressed against his face.
The smell of burning flesh.
And his brother's face, twisted in maniacal laughter at his suffering!
All of this, like a wound that would never heal, festered and oozed in the depths of his soul, tormenting him for over twenty years!
He dreamed of revenge!
He studied his brother's every move day and night, for most of his life!
Sandor knew Gregor's weaknesses better than anyone in every one of Gregor's battles!
But he never had the chance.
He was a dog, and his brother was House Lannister's favored champion.
Between them, there was an insurmountable chasm.
Taking revenge on his own initiative would mean disrespecting the Lannisters and putting himself in a completely passive position.
But now, Lynn, this new Earl from the North, easily presented this opportunity to him.
A glorious, righteous opportunity for revenge, witnessed by the King and the gods!!
Sandor's breathing grew heavy.
He said nothing.
He just gave Lynn a deep look.
Then, he suddenly turned around and drew the greatsword from his waist, which was wider and heavier than an ordinary longsword.
He pointed the tip of his sword at the Throne Room roof.
"I, Sandor Clegane."
"Am willing to fight for Lord Lynn!"
He accepted!
"Hahahaha! Good! Good!"
On the Iron Throne, Robert Baratheon excitedly slammed his fist on the armrest of the throne, the armrests made of sharp swords emitting a piercing hum.
"This is what a fucking duel is!"
"House Lannister's two mad dogs are finally going to bite each other!"
He had no good feelings for the Lannisters, and he was delighted by the spectacle of fratricide, he was even impatient!
"I declare!"
Robert's voice was as loud as a bell.
"Seven days from now!"
"In King's Landing, under the gaze of all the ministers and commoners!"
"Petyr Baelish's crime will be witnessed by swords and judged by the gods!"
The King's decree was final.
Everyone in the hall had different expressions.
Ned Stark was still worried.
Cersei Lannister's face was ashen.
And Petyr Baelish had returned to that mysterious smile he often wore.
Lynn didn't look at him again.
His gaze fell on Sandor's broad and lonely back.
He not only gave Sandor an opportunity for revenge.
He also gave him a reason to shed the identity of a "dog" and live again as a "man."
After the duel, Sandor Clegane would become his most loyal subordinate.
Moreover, if The Mountain died, Dorne would also befriend him. After all, those people in Dorne dreamed of The Mountain's death!
Lynn turned around and slowly walked out of the Throne Room under everyone's complex gazes.
As he reached the doorway, he saw that stubborn figure.
Arya Stark.
She had been waiting there.
Her eyes were still red, but in those gray eyes, a light of relief after a narrow escape flickered.
She looked at Lynn, opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know where to start.
Lynn smiled at her, and as before, ruffled her hair.
"Let's go."
"I'm hungry."
"Take me to get something to eat."
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