I Could Keep You Safe | Leanor Clegane | ASOIAF/GOT Fanfiction

Leanor

Gregor got away with it, of course. Their father covered for the son he wanted to become a knight, saying Sandor's bed curtains caught fire and burned him. That was not the first time Leanor realised that life wasn't fair, but it was the one that had stung the most so far.

The other children were either scared of or disgusted by Sandor after that, some even mocking him for his scars. Leanor made a point of not doing any of that. She often went off into the woods with her second brother, either riding or walking, and they simply talked. He taught her how to light a campfire, how to hunt rabbits and a little of how to fight, too, with a little knife that he told her to keep on her at all times.

"Just in case," He warned, and she knew he was thinking of Gregor. "You're very quick, so run first, or hide, or climb a tree. This is a last option," He then told her the quickest way to kill a man with such a blade.

In return, she told him stories. She knew lots of stories, all begged off of the village children, their parents and every traveller that came through the village. Leanor also liked to sing, which she couldn't do in the towerhouse for fear of drawing attention to herself. Sandor seemed to like her singing, though he never said so, and gruffly refused when she laughingly asked him to join in.

"You won't catch me chirping some shit about knights and fair maids," He grumbled. "You sing me a song, instead,"

Gregor seemed to grow worse with every year that passed. She became very quick and good at dodging, though she dreaded attracting her brother's attention, and the way he looked at her sometimes made her skin crawl.

There were times she couldn't dodge or run in time, though. On one of these occasions he hit her so hard once that she flew across the room, landing on a chair and cracking two of her ribs. Another time he pulled her by the arm so roughly that it broke and she had to wear a sling for weeks. He'd thrown a wine bottle at her once, with enough force to split her cheek open; that had given her a nasty, obvious scar starting just below her left eye and going almost down to her jaw, but compared to Sandor's she couldn't complain.

Leanor had been stoic through most of these injuries, knowing that her brother liked the sound of her upset and in pain, though for whatever reason she had cried and cried when he backhanded her across the face and her nose broke with a sickening crack.

Her father had lifted her to her feet and dumped her in the kitchen, where a maid hurried to wipe the blood off her face with a rag while they waited for the maester. It only revealed the already swollen and bruised flesh beneath.

"Come on girl, you've had worse than that," He said gruffly, watching her. "Stop that weeping," He looked rather uneasy despite his harsh words; guilt, perhaps? Not guilty enough to do anything about it. Not even guilty enough to reprimand Gregor, instead of telling off his daughter for crying.

"The ribs hurt more when I moved," Leanor admitted. Her voice was thick from the swollen nose. "But there wasn't so much blood - this hit was much harder," She continued rather peevishly. "And my nose was already odd, all the village children say so - now it's crooked too," It didn't bother her too much, but just added a (literal) insult to injury.

Her father gave a hollow laugh.

"If their teasing bothers you that much, tell one of your brothers - I'm sure either would be more than happy to scare them out of doing it again,"

Leanor choked out an equally humourless laugh through her tears.

"Scare them? Sandor would beat them to the ground, and Gregor would put them in it," Not because he cared for her, simply because it was fun. He scarcely needed an excuse.