100 years before the Volturi's rise to power in Essos, Katira Volturi leaves her coven and crosses the Narrow Sea.
She longs for something more; adventure, friendship, a mate.
She also made a promise: to find and protect the human son of two of he...
I ran south, thinking only of revenge. I contemplated how I would kill them.
The Mountain would need to be a quick kill, just drop on his shoulders and yank his head off. Otherwise, he may be the only human capable of ripping my head off first.
Cersei Lannister deserved worse, though. Once the Mountain was dead, she'd be weak, defenseless. And when she was, I'd rip her apart with my bare hands.
Vengeance fueled every step as I neared King's Landing. My worn boots slammed rhythmically against the dirt and grass, but they skidded to a halt when I smelled something familiar: Leather, wine, and pine needles. There's no way...
Still, almost instinctively, I followed the scent. Before I could search further I heard terrified screams, and without a second thought, I was racing in that direction.
Lying in a field were the corpses of villagers, scattered around a partially-built sept, and a septon strung up by a rope. I was there just in time to catch two men riding away, and I put deep cuts in each of their abdomens before bleeding them out.
I stood up and stepped back, thick crimson liquid smeared across my face. When I raised my head, I was staring at the face of Sandor Clegane.
He wasn't looking at me, but at the bodies that littered the area around us. He slowly walked to where the septon was hanging, and his eyes held sadness and anger as he gazed upon the lifeless body.
Then, Sandor turned to me, eyes burning into mine. We stood like that for a few moments, our gazes interlocked. He peered down at the men I'd killed, then back up at me. He came over slowly, eyes on mine the whole time.
Finally, he spoke. "Did you see how many others there were?"
I shook my head. "I killed everyone I saw riding away." Sandor didn't say anything else, he just nodded, grabbing an ax and walking away with a look of determination.
I followed behind him. I could say it was because I wanted to help avenge the villagers, but really, I just didn't want to lose Sandor again, not before we at least had the chance to have a conversation.
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It wasn't long before we came across a group of seven men, in the process of hanging a group of three.
A few of them drew their swords as we approached, assuming a defensive position. An older man with an unruly beard spoke first. "Clegane. What the fuck you doing here?"
"Chasing them, you?" Sandor replied.
"Hanging them," he shot back, his tone definite.
"Any particular reason?"
A small man in the middle sporting an eyepatch chimed in, he seemed to be in charge. "They're our men. Or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Why do you want them?"
