"My dog?"
An excited voice pierced the silence of the throne room.
It was Prince Joffrey Baratheon.
He squeezed his way out of the crowd.
His handsome yet sickly pale face was filled with the fervor of a child who had found a new toy.
He worshipped Lynn.
From the moment Lynn unhorsed the Knight of Flowers at the tourney, to the moment he blocked that fatal arrow on the streets of King's Landing.
In his heart, Lynn was a god of war, an idol.
Now, this idol wanted to borrow his dog to fight a duel of kin-slaying!
Could there be a more thrilling, more magnificent scene?
"You want my dog to fight for you, Lynn?"
Joffrey ran excitedly up to Lynn, looking up at him, his blue eyes shining with fanaticism.
"Of course! Of course you can!"
He didn't even ask for his mother or the King's opinion. He turned impatiently and shouted toward the corner of the hall.
"Hound! Did you hear that?"
"Go! Go kill your monster brother for Lord Lynn!"
"This will surely be the greatest duel King's Landing has seen in a hundred years!"
If Lynn choosing to fight himself was madness, then choosing the Hound was absurdity.
Everyone's eyes turned in unison to the man standing in the corner of the throne room.
Sandor Clegane.
He wore simple chainmail, his signature dog-helm tucked under his arm, revealing the half of his face that had been burned into a hideous ruin.
He was just the Prince's bodyguard, a loyal and vicious dog.
Here, his status was low; he didn't even have the right to speak.
He was strong, undoubtedly.
But his opponent was the Mountain.
His own brother, Gregor Clegane!
The demon who had turned him into this monstrosity!
Everyone knew the hatred between the brothers, but no one thought Sandor had even a sliver of a chance.
Gregor was a giant, a monster.
Sandor, while fearsome, only did Joffrey's dirty work. He wasn't comparable to the infamous Gregor.
Sandor facing his brother was like an ordinary hound facing a rampaging bear.
"Haha... Hahahaha!"
A sharp, piercing laugh cut through the silence.
It was Petyr Baelish.
He slumped in his wheelchair, laughing so hard he leaned back and forth, tears streaming from his eyes.
"The Hound?"
"You chose the Hound?"
He pointed at Lynn, his twisted face full of the ecstasy of survival and undisguised mockery.
"Lord Lynn, you are truly... surprising."
"I thought you would choose a true warrior, but instead..."
He shook his head as if looking at the biggest joke in the world.
"Are you giving up?"
He had won!
He had completely won!
Lynn, this fool!
He had given up the only possible variables and chosen a dead dog doomed to lose!
Ned Stark's heart sank to the bottom.
He couldn't understand why Lynn would do this.
How was this any different from asking Sandor to commit suicide?
"Sandor!"
Ignoring Littlefinger, Joffrey pointed at the Hound and shouted in an unquestionable command.
"Accept him!"
"Lord Lynn has chosen you. It is your honor!"
Joffrey's words turned Cersei's face ashen instantly.
She wanted to stop it but found she couldn't speak.
Her son was using his princely authority to push the two strongest dogs of House Lannister into a coliseum of fratricide!
And all this was for the man she hated and feared the most!
From beginning to end, Sandor Clegane hadn't spoken.
He just stood there.
When Lynn linked his name with the term "champion," a flicker of imperceptible emotion passed through his deep-set eyes.
When Prince Joffrey issued the order, he simply raised his head slowly.
His gaze passed over everyone.
Over the looks of pity, mockery, and schadenfreude.
His gaze finally landed on the massive figure standing like a mountain.
His brother.
Gregor Clegane.
The Mountain sensed his gaze and turned his head slowly as well.
No expression could be seen on his helm-covered face, but a low laugh rumbled from his throat.
A laugh full of contempt and disdain.
As if looking at a hyena who didn't know death when he saw it, daring to challenge a lion.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
Everyone held their breath, watching the brothers destined for this showdown.
The air was almost solid.
Finally, Sandor moved.
Ignoring Joffrey's command and his arrogant brother, he turned and walked with heavy steps toward Lynn.
He was nearly seven feet tall, a giant among ordinary men.
But in front of Lynn, he didn't seem out of place.
His hideous face was less than a foot from Lynn's.
He stared fixedly into Lynn's eyes.
In those grey eyes, there was no longer the usual numbness and irritability.
Instead, there was an emotion complex to the extreme.
Confusion, scrutiny, wariness.
And, deepest down...
A craving he wouldn't even admit to himself.
"Why me?"
His voice was rasping, for these were the first words he had spoken all night.
"Sandor, it's not because you are 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 through the shell of numbness and brutality Sandor had used for over a decade, reaching the scar deepest in his heart.
Sandor's body trembled almost imperceptibly.
He had lived thirty years.
Everyone looked at him as if he were a dog.
King Robert's dog, the Lannisters' dog, Prince Joffrey's dog.
A fierce, obedient dog that was never fit for the high table.
No one had ever looked at him like this.
As if he were born to stand on this stage, to complete the thing he dreamed of but dared not hope for.
"I am no knight."
Sandor's voice was still dry and low.
"I know."
Lynn nodded.
"Knights have too much hypocrisy and restriction."
"You only need to do one thing."
"Under the gaze of the Gods, the city, and the heavens and earth, dig out your brother's heart with your own hands."
"Use his blood to wash away your childhood nightmare, to wash away your shame."
Childhood nightmare...
The searing pain of burning coals pressed against his face.
The smell of burnt flesh.
And his brother's face, twisted in manic laughter at his pain!
All of this was a wound that would never heal, festering deep in his soul, torturing him for over twenty years!
He dreamed of revenge!
He had studied every move of his brother every day and night for half his life!
In every battle Gregor fought, Sandor knew his weaknesses better than anyone!
But he never had the chance.
He was a dog, and his brother was the favored champion of House Lannister.
Between them lay an uncrossable chasm.
Taking revenge on his own would be disrespectful to the Lannisters and would put him in a passive position.
But now, Lynn, this new Earl from the North, had effortlessly delivered this opportunity to him.
A glorious, open opportunity for revenge under the witness of the King and the Gods!!
Sandor's breathing grew heavy.
He said nothing.
He just looked deeply at Lynn.
Then, he spun around, drawing the greatsword from his back—heavier and wider than ordinary blades.
He pointed the tip at the roof of the throne room.
"I, Sandor Clegane."
"Will fight for Lord Lynn!"
He accepted!
"Hahahaha! Good! Good!"
On the Iron Throne, Robert Baratheon punched the armrest in excitement, the swords making a harsh ringing sound.
"Now this is a fucking duel!"
"The two mad dogs of House Lannister are finally going to tear each other apart!"
He had no love for the Lannisters. He delighted in seeing them kill each other; he couldn't wait!
"I declare!"
Robert's voice boomed like a bell.
"Seven days from now!"
"Right here in King's Landing, under the gaze of all lords and commoners!"
"The guilt of Petyr Baelish shall be witnessed by steel and judged by the Gods!"
The King's decree was final.
Everyone in the hall wore different expressions.
Ned Stark remained worried.
Cersei Lannister's face was dark as water.
And Petyr Baelish had resumed the enigmatic smile he often wore.
Lynn didn't look at him again.
His gaze fell on Sandor's broad, lonely back.
He had not only given Sandor a chance for revenge.
He had given him a reason to shed the identity of "dog" and live as a "human" again.
After the duel, Sandor Clegane would become his most loyal follower.
Moreover, if the Mountain died, Dorne would also favor Lynn. After all, the Dornish dreamed of the Mountain's death!
Lynn turned and walked slowly out of the Iron Throne room under everyone's complex gaze.
When he reached the door, he saw that stubborn figure.
Arya Stark.
She had been waiting here the whole time.
Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but those grey eyes shone with the light of survival.
She looked at Lynn, opening her mouth to speak, but didn't know where to start.
Lynn smiled at her and ruffled her hair like before.
"Let's go."
"I'm hungry."
"Take me to get something to eat."