Leanor was born to Ser Willem Clegane and his wife Lady Alys. She was the only daughter in the family, two years younger than her brother Sandor and seven years younger than Gregor.

Though the Cleganes lived in the big towerhouse that dominated the village, Leanor never felt like she was much more highborn than many of the smallfolk villagers, whose children she played with most days. Her grandfather had been a simple kennel master at Casterly Rock, after all, and her grandmother had just been a serving maid who'd taken his fancy. They had only been rewarded with land and titles after her grandfather saved Lord Tytos Lannister from that mountain lion, at the cost of his own leg.

Nonetheless, now her family were landed knights she was granted the title of Lady. No matter how much she enjoyed playing with the children in the village, coming back covered in dirt and grass stains with scabby knees and bruised elbows, there was always a septa there to scold her when she returned and scrub her clean again. Her brothers trained in the yard with their father and a master-at-arms, and her mother had several servants to cook and clean for her.

That was perhaps a good thing. Lady Alys was a slender woman and had been greatly weakened after birthing three huge babies. She often grew too sick to even stand, let alone take care of the household. It shouldn't have been a shock - but was horrible nonetheless - when her mother passed away when she was four years old, and her world grew a whole lot darker.

For as long as she could remember, Leanor knew to stay away from her brother Gregor. He was the shadow over her whole life; the village children ran away when they saw him, as he was known to be free with his fists, a cruel bully they could do nothing against no matter how many complaints their parents made to Ser Willem. Even the dogs wouldn't go anywhere near him, expecting a vicious, unwarranted kick.

Whenever Leanor knew she had caught his attention, a dull sense of dread overcame her. Most of the time he would just swing at her, either laughing when she fell and cried out, or cursing if she dodged and quickly ran away (something she got increasingly good at doing). He could scarcely be bothered to ever chase her, she was simply something convenient to lash out at.

But she was terrified of her brother, and she knew Sandor was too; he just showed it by being angry and lashing out himself. Not at her, though. Never at her.

Where Sandor fought back, Leanor learned to melt into the shadows, to pass unnoticed without attracting any attention. Out of sight, out of mind. And when she couldn't avoid being noticed, she made herself as unobtrusive, polite and mild-mannered as possible, so as not to raise his ire.

That wasn't just for Gregor, either. Though her father was nowhere near as bad, he was still an impatient man with a quick temper, who could berate her harshly if she stepped out of line and was also rather quick to cuff her round the head. She wasn't particularly bothered by any of this - compared to her brother, he was nothing - but it was tiresome nonetheless and if she could avoid it, she would.

Sandor wasn't as good at staying unnoticed, however. She heard the screams even as she played in the street and rushed back home, to see Gregor being wrestled onto the floor by three of their guardsmen as Sandor, aged seven, was carried away. There was a sick smell of burning meat in the air. Her horrified septa quickly ushered her away from the scene, but she found out later that the smell had been her brother's face, after Gregor had held him down on the brazier for playing with some stupid toy.

She had cried the first time she saw Sandor's burns, red and raw and oozing as they were, his ear gone, his eye socket mangled. Then she saw how upset her tears made him and didn't cry again. The burns looked better with every day, anyway, going from angry red and black and yellow to simply red and twisted. Though he may look like a horror, he was still her brother underneath the wounds.

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.

She went out into the village as much as possible, simply to get away from home. Though Leanor was their friend, the village children often teased her for being richer than them, for her height, scar and large hooked nose, for how much everyone hated her brother. All of those things were true of course, but the idea of being afraid of them was laughable after her own family, so it was easy to stand up for herself and respond in kind.

"You look like a witch, Leah," One of the boys she was friends with laughed at her the first time she ventured outside with her crooked nose. Coupled with the rather gaunt, sharp-boned face that she shared with her father and brothers, no doubt it was true. She rolled her eyes but grinned.

"I'd take that over looking like a weasel, Evan Hill. Was your long-lost Da actually a Frey?" Evan just laughed as the other boys jeered, as unable to deny her insult as she was to deny his. Though the average smallfolk child in the Westerlands wouldn't ordinarily know of House Frey, a party of several members of that family had stayed the night once in Clegane Keep on their way to a tourney in the Reach, and their chinless faces had been the cause of much (secret) hilarity in the village.

Leanor noticed that a few girls were giggling behind their hands several feet away, no doubt mocking her and not to her face. One of them was Melessa, the blacksmith's daughter, who everyone said was the most beautiful young girl in the village. She boasted that her grandmother had been a Lannister bastard (although her hair was sandy rather than gold and her eyes were plain hazel).

"I should've been born to a knightly father in the towerhouse," Leanor heard her saying, none too quietly. "I'd make a better lady than Beaky over there," There were titters from the other girls as she nodded her way. "I'm much prettier and far more dainty,"

"You're right, Melessa," Leanor made sure to smile. "You are prettier than me, and smaller, and I always liked your curly hair," The girl looked perplexed, trying to work out if she was being mocked or not, given there was not a hint of sarcasm in Leanor's tone.

Ordinarily she would've left it at that, content with the knowledge that she'd unnerved the girl and showed that she truly didn't care, but her broken nose was still throbbing unpleasantly and she had been in a rather bad mood since it happened. She continued.

"Although I'm not sure your dainty little nose wouldn't be as crooked as mine, if you'd been born to my family. Perhaps it would be a smaller target for Gregor, but I'm sure he'd manage to break it eventually,"

As usual, any mention of her eldest brother was met with anxious glances around to check he wasn't there, looming out of the shadows. Leanor remained still; she had already checked behind her before she spoke.

Completely unrelated to that small row, a month later Melessa did not come out to play near as much and could often be seen crying with her mother; her equally pretty elder sister, a maid in the towerhouse, had gone missing one day. Her corpse was later found in the woods, half-naked, beaten and bleeding between the legs. The whole village knew who had done it.

The girl's father had stormed up to the keep in a rage, demanding justice for his raped and murdered daughter. Despite their own father's protests, Gregor had lumbered forward and punched him so hard in the neck that his spine snapped. He was dead before he hit the floor; Leanor had seen the light leave his eyes after the fist collided with his neck.

No one came to protest either death after that.

Her eldest brother was knighted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen himself when he was fifteen. She and Sandor watched mutely, both furious as he swore to be brave, to be just and true, to protect the innocent. The prince raised him up a knight, and their father clapped him on the back.

The injustice of it all stung, painfully.

"Ser Gregor Clegane," Sandor scoffed bitterly, having stormed off into the woods the moment Prince Rhaegar was gone. Leanor had followed him, but he didn't seem to mind. "Gallant deeds, chivalry and honour, defending the weak, fighting for the right," He spat on the ground. "What a load of horseshit,"

"There are no true knights," Leanor knew that now. "Not if he can be one,"

*

Their father died when Leanor was ten.

He had gone on a hunting trip with Gregor and never come back. Sandor and Leanor both knew what had happened, as did the entire household. Servants had been going missing for years, and everyone knew what happened to them too. Their brother was out of control and now without Father here she had no hope.

That night, her bedroom door was loudly slammed open and Gregor strode in, his huge form blocking the doorway and any light from the hall. Leanor awoke with a start, terrified as he crossed the room, shrinking back towards the headboard as he advanced.

Her brother didn't say a word, simply grabbed her throat and squeezed lightly; lightly for him was painful for her, and would surely bruise. He easily caught her flailing hands when she desperately tried to free herself, smiling at her obvious terror.

"You look older than ten," Was all he said, and suddenly his hand was no longer at her throat but under her nightgown. Leanor was so scared she couldn't even scream, only make a small choked noise. She froze as he touched her, pinching and squeezing all over. It hurt but she couldn't move from fear, not that he'd have let her. Then, abruptly, he laughed - a terrible sound she scarcely ever heard - and stopped, released her, got to his feet and left.

She was left shivering on the bed for who knew how long after that, before she regained the ability to move and immediately sprinted to Sandor's room. Her brother opened the door with a face like thunder, only for it to soften as she flung herself at him, shaking with silent sobs.

"Leah?" His voice sounded very young and scared for once, but angry at the same time and she already knew that Sandor's anger was a dangerous thing (though not for her). "Leah, what happened? Leanor? What did he do?" The last sentence was practically a growl and he shook her slightly in his panic.

"He - he came into my room and grabbed my neck," The words came out in a garbled mess. "It hurt - I tried to hit him but he got my wrists. Then he - he put his hand under my gown and - "

The stream of violent curses that came out of Sandor's mouth at that had even Leanor - used to the foul language of her family and the villagers - taken aback.

"I'll kill him," She had scarcely seen her brother look so angry. "I'll fucking kill that evil cunt, you're a child for fucks sake, curse him to the seven fucking hells,"

"No!" Leanor spread her arms to block the door, for all the good that would do; even her smallest brother was three times her size. "He'll kill you, and then who have I got?" That seemed to hit home as Sandor stopped trying to push past her, still visibly furious.

"We're leaving," He said, breathing heavily. "We'll go to Casterly Rock. I'll be a sworn sword to the Lannisters, a household guard, anything at all. You come with me, I can keep you safe. He'll kill us both if we stay,"

She didn't disagree. She'd rather live like a hedge knight than be Gregor's plaything here.

*

They rode out at the crack of dawn on the day of their father's funeral, just the two of them, aged ten and twelve, all the possessions they wanted to keep strapped to the horses. Gregor would be in a rage to find them gone, or perhaps he wouldn't care. Either way, Leanor dreaded what he'd do to the servants, and would miss all the hounds in the kennels greatly, but she couldn't stay there any longer. She truly doubted she'd survive a week.

Their journey was not the easiest, given winter had come back with a vengeance after the false spring the previous year. Desperate times meant desperate people, and sure enough they were accosted on the road by a group of bandits trying to rob them. 

It sounded frightening but in reality they were only three common men, thin and hungry with no armour and poorly made weapons. 

"We'll have every coin on you, lad," One of them was saying. "The horses too, and that fine sword," 

"Hand them over or die," Another piped up. He was weedy in frame, and held a rusty sword with chipped edges. 

Leanor had to laugh at the rather pitiful display, which she hastily stifled as all eyes fell on her.

"Who's the girl," A third man asked Sandor, with a leer her way. "Your sister? We'll have her too," 

"Bit young, ain't she?" The first man grimaced at his friend. "Thirteen, fourteen?"

"Barely ten, you fucking cunts," Sandor growled. The man spat at that, stepping forward angrily, and that's when all chaos broke loose.

Before Leanor could say a word, her brother had unsheathed his sword and driven his horse at them like a knight in charge. The men froze for a split second before realising he was serious and scattered, but they were too late. She watched with wide eyes as her brother sliced a deep gash in the arm of one man, making him drop to the ground with a yell, but Sandor was already riding down the next, sword stabbing into his back with a sickening noise, and the man was dead in seconds. 

The other two would-be robbers fled, one clutching his wounded arm. Sandor laughed and wheeled the horse round, raising his bloody sword victorious above his head.

"Are you alright?" Leanor hastened her horse to his side, glancing doubtfully at the corpse on the ground; the single stab wound was cleaner than when Gregor killed Melessa's father, and this man had been asking for it besides. "Have you ever killed someone before?"

"No," He shrugged, though his eyes were rather wild. "He deserved it, the way he was looking at you. They would've robbed us blind if we'd let them,"

"You're right. Thank you," She agreed, then laughed. "I bet they'll go home and say how they were attacked by three scary knights in armour,"

"Not a twelve year old stray and his skinny little sister," Sandor snorted, cleaning the blood off his sword with his cloak. "Lucky I was there, Leah. What were you doing laughing at them, stupid girl?" He looked amused.

"They were trying to be threatening," Leanor grinned. "And just looked pathetic,"

"A man doesn't have to be the size of Gregor to hurt you," He warned her, but she was already spurring her horse forward.

"They'd have to catch me first!"

*

Casterly Rock was enormous, impressive and grander than any place either of them had ever seen. They were waved in by a bored-looking gate guard, and Sandor was directed to the captain of the household guard. The man sized him up - whilst not as large as Gregor, her second brother was still very big for his age, and demolished all those put against him in the yard - and said he would offer him a bed in the barracks and training, a mark of his slightly higher status and his skill.

As for Leanor, he barely glanced her way, carelessly suggesting to enquire if the kitchens or washhouse needed another pair of hands. A bit below the station of a landed knight's daughter, but better than nothing. She looked older than she was, too, which would help; even though the thought only brought back memories of Gregor's huge, cruel hands grasping at her in the dark.

She was saved the effort of trying to find work, however, by what could've turned out to be a rather nasty accident. On the way across the yard she saw a heavily pregnant young woman passing her catch her foot on a loose cobblestone and trip; if Leanor had not rushed to catch her, the woman would have fallen.

"Oh, goodness! Thank you so much," The young lady - for she clearly was a lady, wearing that gown - said gratefully, rather shaken. "That fall could've harmed the baby. What is your name, girl? You look rather well dressed for a servant,"

"Leanor, my lady," She curtseyed as best she could. "My father was a knight, Ser Willem Clegane. He died two weeks ago,"

"Oh, you poor dear. My condolences," The lady frowned slightly. "But what are you doing here?"

"I - " She hesitated. "I couldn't stay at home, my lady. My brother Gregor... he - " She broke off, rubbing her crooked nose rather self-consciously. "I came here with Sandor, my other brother. He's a sworn sword now. I was just going to look for work in the kitchens," The lady's eyes narrowed as she took in her nose, scar and the fading bruises on her wrists and neck.

"Well that won't do at all," She said. "It's not proper for a knight's daughter to work as a scullery maid. How about I offer you a position as my handmaid? I could do with a new one, the last girl just got married," She tutted. "You do know your courtesies, I trust?"

"Yes, my lady," Leanor nodded vigorously, liking the sound of that very much. "Thank you, my lady. I can read and write too, and my septa says I'm good at doing hair,"

"Excellent," The lady smiled, amused. "Forgive me, child, you do not know my name. I'm Lady Dorna Sw - Lannister," She hastily corrected with a regretful smile. "I often forget I'm married, even after two years. How foolish is that?"

*

Leanor did not have a sister, but if she did she would've loved for her to be like Lady Dorna. 

The woman was only twenty years old but married to the older Ser Kevan Lannister, Lord Tywin's brother. She was kind, gentle, a little scatter-brained but liked to laugh, helping Leanor do her hair in fancy braids after she finished doing the lady's own, and commissioning dresses for her that were not as glamorous as those the Lannister ladies wore, but of high quality and beautifully made.

Dorna clearly liked Leanor too, as she was a fast learner, helpful and capable, and (unlike many handmaids) she liked to talk. Dorna was currently pregnant with her first child and stressing overmuch about the birth - as she often did about many things - and claimed that Leanor's conversation and singing calmed her down, as did all the stories she told.

So, unlike the other handmaids - favoured and vaguely highborn as she was - Leanor was often invited to sit with Dorna and the other ladies of Casterly Rock as they practised needlework during the day. 

Some of these women were Lannisters by birth, others the wives of the many cousins of the main branch; Leanor was well aware that she wasn't nearly so well born. But though she was initially rather quiet and obedient in these sessions, slowly with Dorna's help she got to talking with some of the girls her own age, telling stories and making them laugh. The older ladies soon began to listen to her stories too, which led to conversation, which led to her presence being welcomed warmly.

Notable amongst the group was Lady Cersei, Lord Tywin's daughter. The girl was young, six-and-ten and stunningly beautiful. At a first glance she was also sweet and charming, but her eyes were cold. All the ladies knew of her more spiteful and proud side, and had suffered her often cruel tongue.

"Who are you, girl?" Cersei remarked on Leanor's third time attending their afternoon sessions, having very deliberately ignored her for the first two.

"Leanor Clegane, my lady," She bobbed a perfect curtsey, not put off by the woman's disdainful tone; even Dorna had hesitated to respond. "I serve Lady Dorna. A pleasure to meet you,"

Cersei sniffed.

"How old are you?"

"Almost eleven, my lady,"

"You're very tall for ten," Her lips twisted rather cruelly. "And have you been brawling with peasant boys, to get a scar and broken nose like that?"

"Now really, Cersei - " Dorna began, but was silenced by a single glance from her good-niece. Leanor took the chance to answer.

"My brother Gregor broke my nose, my lady. He also gave me the scar,"

That took even Cersei aback for a moment - Leanor rather enjoyed that - before she sneered rather disbelievingly.

"And why would he do that?"

"He was angry," She replied simply. "I was there," Silence. She suddenly realised everyone in the room was looking at her. Too far. "Lady Dorna was generous enough to take me in as her handmaid," She smiled warmly, having been told many times that her rather gaunt face could be rather unnerving when she didn't. She turned to Cersei. "You are very kind to ask after my nose too, my lady. Most wouldn't bother to,"

That seemed to placate everyone for now, and they all returned to the needlework and gossiping. Cersei glanced at her for a moment longer in suspicion that she was mocking her, but Leanor busied herself with her own embroidery and she soon felt the lady look away.

*

"Cersei has been in a foul mood since she returned here from King's Landing. I think she misses Jaime, her twin brother," Dorna said after they left later, clearly checking if she was alright after the encounter. "You do know she was mocking you earlier?"

"I know," Leanor shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as I expected, the way people talk about her,"

"She didn't scare you at all?" The older woman enquired. "She scares me, sometimes,"

"No?" Leanor was rather bemused. "Why would she? She only said things that were true - I do have a funny nose, and I am tall. She's just a girl, what more can she do?" Gregor was scary. A bitchy young woman was not, no matter how beautiful she might be. Cersei reminded her of Melessa from the village - before Gregor murdered her father and sister, that is.

Dorna let out an incredulous laugh.

"I do believe you're dauntless, Lady Clegane," She said, chuckling. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone call Cersei 'just a girl'. Perhaps someone should - the gods know she needs taking down a few pegs,"

"I don't think her father would like that," Leanor smiled. No, it was best to be as respectful and mild-mannered as she could when it came to Lady Cersei.

*

As the rest of the Seven Kingdoms marched to war under the banners of Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark, the Lannisters remained carefully neutral. Everyone in Casterly Rock knew - as Leanor had been told by Dorna - that the friendship between King Aerys and Lord Tywin had soured enough over the years that he wouldn't have hesitated to join the rebels, had his son Jaime not been in King's Landing, effectively a hostage.

Leanor spent that time rather pleasantly. Dorna gave birth to a son, Lancel, shortly after she arrived so her days consisted of helping with the baby, assisting Dorna in getting ready and repairing her clothes when necessary. She often accompanied the lady during the day, whether that was needlework with the other women, going out for a gentle ride or walking in the gardens. 

When she had free time, she often spent it with Sandor, going out for a more adventurous ride along the cliffs or watching him train in the yard. He still insisted she carry that dagger he'd given her, and practice with it too whenever they went out together.

Leanor had also found a rather unlikely friend in Tyrion Lannister, the eight year old son of Lord Tywin. She liked his company because he was very interesting to talk to - he knew a lot about lots of things - and she felt like she could act a child again, like she had done in the village. She also didn't have to watch her tongue like she did around the other ladies.

"Come on," She grinned down at him from where she had started to climb a tree in the godswood. "Your legs aren't that short, you can follow me up,"

"My arms are," The boy grumbled, to which Leanor extended her own hand. He took it gratefully, and she helped him climb up to the branch she was on. Her legs dangled absurdly lower than his when they sat down, which he eyed rather enviously. "Why does my only friend have to be a giant of a girl?" 

There was amusement in his tone, but Leanor knew how his height affected him, how he hated the whispers and giggles that followed them when they walked together, at both of their expense. She herself cared little, but Tyrion clearly did, a great deal.

"You shouldn't pay people any mind when they laugh," She said to him. "They're just being cruel,"

"Easier said than done," The boy muttered. "My father would love you - one of his favourite sayings is 'the lion does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep'... How do you not get sad when they laugh behind their hands at you?"

Leanor thought for a moment.

"Words can't hurt you like fists can. And you can fight back with words no matter how big or small you are," She laughed, then. "It also helps that everyone's scared my brother will come and beat them to the ground if they go too far," 

Tyrion nodded, thinking on that for a moment, then his eyes lit up as he turned to her.

"I bet my brother could beat your brother,"

"I don't know about that," Leanor shook her head but grinned. "Sandor is huge,"

"Jaime is the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms," The boy insisted. "He was the youngest Kingsguard ever. And Sandor's only twelve,"

"When they're grown, then," She conceded. "Sandor will be nearer seven feet than six, and everyone says he's really quick. He beats grown knights in the training yard,"

"Perhaps he could win a wrestling match," Tyrion said. "But Jaime could beat anyone with a sword,"

*

Given how much Tyrion disliked his sister Cersei - in response to her unfair hatred of him - Leanor expected to be on the receiving end of the lady's scorn whenever their paths crossed; which happened every morning now, as the girl realised she liked Leanor to style her hair, saying she did it better than all the others. 

However a few snide comments was the extent of Cersei's mockery, much to her surprise. 

"She likes you," Dorna told her when she mentioned how odd it was. "Well, not like. Cersei doesn't really like anyone, except Jaime. But she doesn't think you as silly and simpering as all the other girls, and as you know your place with regard to her and aren't confrontational..." She trailed off with a chuckle. "That will likely change at the drop of a hat though, knowing her, so enjoy it while it lasts,"

Leanor followed that advice, following Cersei's demands quietly and efficiently whenever they were asked of her, offering conversation when the girl wanted to talk, and staying quiet when she could tell she did not. 

She quickly learned that the way to get into Cersei's good books was flattery, though not about her looks and charm, which she was numb to after a lifetime being told she was the most beautiful girl in the realm. No, Leanor complemented her intelligence and cunning, her sharp tongue, her ambition and strength, regardless of whether all these things were true or not. 

"It's a shame your brute of a brother broke your nose and gave you that beastly scar," Cersei considered in the mirror as Leanor ran a brush through her hair one morning. "You might be quite pretty, otherwise," That was actually a compliment from the girl, more than she offered most.

"Thank you, my lady," She nodded. "Though I'm too tall for most boys,"

"I'd rather like to be tall," Cersei mused, which did surprise her. "Well, taller. Not as tall as you'll be. Men would take me more seriously if I could look them in the eye," 

"Men take you seriously anyway - you're Lord Tywin's daughter, and hardly a shy little mouse," Leanor said, which made her smile. It was clear the girl loved to be compared to her father.

"Perhaps you're right," She smirked, only slightly spitefully. "You'll tower over lots of men by the time you're grown," 

"Is that good or bad, my lady?" Leanor smiled. 

"Both, I suppose," The girl said with a shrug. "We'll have to find you a tall husband, unless you want his eyes to be level with your chest,"

"Well if Robert Baratheon never finds his Lady Lyanna..." She was joking at the absurdity of such a suggestion of course. Cersei laughed at that, no doubt enjoying the self-deprecation of her own social status.

She didn't enjoy Cersei's company like she enjoyed Tyrion's, as the girl truly was spiteful and arrogant, but she didn't dislike her, either, and she was rather interesting to talk to. Leanor had a very thick skin, and underneath it all, Cersei was actually quite witty when she wanted to be. Sometimes she forgot herself, all the arrogance and airs and spite, and Leanor could see exactly why she got on so well with her brother Jaime, who was known for his good humour.

The whole castle was turned upside down when the news came of Rhaegar's death on the Trident. Lord Tywin abruptly called his banners to march on King's Landing, though no one was quite sure for what side he was fighting given that although he hated Aerys, the Mad King still held his eldest son Jaime effectively as a hostage.

Most surprising was Cersei's reaction to the news. Leanor entered her chambers that morning to find her dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Though she was shocked, she said nothing, simply continued as normal as the girl rounded on her.

"Don't pretend you didn't notice," She snapped in a way that Leanor had learned to let flow over her and not take the offence with which it was met. "If I hear you've told your little friends I was crying, I'll have you thrown out of this castle and left to your brute of a brother," 

No one could say Cersei didn't know how to hit where it hurt. 

"Of course I won't, my lady," She nodded simply, moving the conversation on. Sometimes Cersei tolerated her chatter, other times told her to shut up and work. "We were all shocked by the news of the battle. You were almost betrothed to Prince Rhaegar, were you not?"

"Almost," Cersei scoffed, taking a seat before the looking glass. Leanor started to brush her hair, ignoring her red eyes. "Aerys refused, and humiliated Father in public by saying his son would never marry his servant's daughter," Her expression spoke of how deeply she despised this statement.

"Well they call him the Mad King for a reason," Leanor shrugged. "If anything, you were too good for his son. Look at how he treated his Dornish bride," Cersei didn't like anyone calling Elia Martell 'Princess'.

"Almost died in the birthing bed only to be abandoned for some northern whore," The girl's eyes lit up in cruel delight. It was moments like that where Leanor checked herself, refusing to let herself admire or look up to Cersei. "Rhaegar would never have strayed, had I been his wife," 

"That goes without saying. You would have made a good queen," Leanor said, then dared a rather controversial comment; Cersei either delighted in or was angered by these. "Judging from his actions these past years, Prince Rhaegar's head would likely be so far in the clouds that you could rule in his stead," 

Thankfully Cersei laughed. 

"I could have you whipped for saying things like that," She said, but looked amused regardless, and pleased. Then her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Do you think I was crying for Rhaegar?"

"I didn't think on it at all, my lady," Leanor sensed danger and replied carefully, beginning to braid her hair.

"Of course you did," The girl said but moved on. "I wasn't crying for Rhaegar. The silver-haired fool was pretty, and I was infatuated with him as a girl, but he got what he had coming to him. Jaime, on the other hand, is trapped in King's Landing, at the mercy of a man who loves to burn people with wildfire," Tears were shining in her eyes again, Leanor could see in the mirror, but Cersei couldn't look away without tugging hand her hair out.

"I'm sure Lord Tywin would never do anything to endanger your brother," She said, trying to keep the surprise at her tears out of her tone as the beautiful, cruel girl crumpled before her eyes. "He's the eldest son, after all, he's hardly going to let Tyrion be his only son left. I'm sure Ser Jaime will be home safe in a matter of months,"

It wasn't only Cersei who worried for her brother in the coming battles, however. Sandor went with them to war, apparently old enough to fight. Leanor feared for him, despite knowing he was strong and very skilled, particularly when she heard that Gregor was also going. Stories of her eldest brother reached her even now, of servants going missing, of the dark towerhouse that even the dogs were too scared to go in. 

Neither of them had seen their brother since they left Clegane's Keep, and neither had any desire to. Well, Leanor did not, though she didn't trust that Sandor wouldn't seek him out to try and kill him.

She heard of the Sack of King's Landing from the gossiping of others, who had heard from the ravens that came flying from the capital to announce the death of King Aerys, slain by Jaime Lannister. She heard also of her brother Gregor's role in brutally killing Princess Elia and her children, and was saddened but not surprised. 

Sandor came back with the Lannister troops almost a man, at five-and-ten. He was harder, rougher and more rude than ever but she didn't care and hugged him regardless. He only hesitated slightly before hugging her back in the middle of the yard, filled with similar reunions. Leanor wondered exactly how he had participated in the sack of the city, then realised she'd rather not know and put the thought from her mind.

"Remember when we were the same height?" She looked up at her brother, now towering over her. "You were eleven and I was nine,"

"That's not going to happen again," He rested his chin on her head. "Although you'll be the tallest woman I've ever seen when you're done growing,"

"You won't be the tallest man," She said. Seeing as that was their brother, she doubted he'd want to be, and was proven right when he scoffed.

"Good," There was a pause. "Lord Tywin has rewarded me for my heroic efforts. And likely for Gregor's too, though that goes unspoken," He said dryly, though there was apprehension in his eyes. "I'm to return to King's Landing with Cersei when she goes to wed Baratheon, as her sworn shield,"

"Oh," Leanor felt a brief stab of panic at the idea of being separated from her brother - her protector and constant companion her entire life - and tried to calm herself. She had other friends here, Dorna and Tyrion and many of the other ladies. Gregor couldn't harm her in Casterly Rock. She grinned, elbowing him in the ribs. "You're moving up in the world, Sandor, guarding a future queen,"

"Imagine me in court," He seemed relieved she had taken it well. "If anyone tries to knight me, I'll kill them," 

She laughed at that and even he chuckled, catching the attention of several people around them. Given Sandor's generally abrasive, rude and often hostile nature, everyone always seemed amazed that they enjoyed each other's company, that a pleasant girl like her could stand being around her brute of a brother and even make him smile.

As it turned out, they would not have to say goodbye at all, as Cersei had insisted that Leanor be brought to court with her, to serve as her handmaid. It was a very good position, but came with a whole set of new goodbyes. Dorna cried happy tears for her the day she left, embracing her tightly. Tyrion hugged her too despite the clear disapproval of his father, and made her promise to write to him. She bade goodbye to all the ladies she had spent a lot of time with too, then cast an amused look Sandor's way before climbing into the wheelhouse to sit alongside Cersei. 

Her brother would ride alongside them on the journey, as Cersei's sworn shield. In all honesty Leanor would rather be riding too, but it would likely wear on her after weeks of travel, and she could hardly turn down the offer of accompanying the soon-to-be queen.

Though Cersei outwardly turned her nose up when the other ladies asked Leanor to tell them stories, when her other handmaid Myrielle begged her for her favourites, the young woman did clearly listen in.

King's Landing was huge, even bigger than Lannisport, and overwhelmed Leanor slightly when she arrived. Cersei, of course, swept past everyone and everything like they were no more than ants, but had a beautiful smile on her face as she met her soon-to-be husband, King Robert. 

Robert was a large man by everyone's standards but her own, heavily muscled and very handsome. He seemed charmed by Cersei - who could be very charming when she wished - despite everyone whispering that he still mourned his Lady Lyanna who had died in Dorne. 

All hopes Leanor had for their marriage was toppled the morning after the wedding, however, when she went to wake Cersei to dress. The new queen had a face like thunder, and Leanor had never seen her so furious. She dared to ask what was wrong, and thought for a moment that Cersei would bite her head off for it, but then the woman seemed to realise she wanted someone to rant to.

"He had the nerve, in the midst of bedding me, to call me Lyanna," She seethed. Leanor's shocked face at the idea of someone being brave enough to scorn Cersei for another woman clearly was an appropriate reaction. "Yes, exactly! What a disgrace - I am his wife, his queen! How dare he shame me so? Well now I know exactly what kind of man Robert is, and will show him exactly what kind of woman I am,"

"He'll deserve every bit of your contempt," Leanor murmured, brushing the young queen's hair.

"Of course he will," Cersei's eyes flashed. "I'll teach him not to scorn a lioness,"

*

Just over a year after the royal wedding, Cersei's first child was born, a boy named Joffrey with a head of golden hair and beautiful green eyes. Leanor was present during the birth, but King Robert was not even in the castle - he had gone hunting the moment he heard of his wife going into labour. 

Ser Jaime, however, had insisted on guarding the queen during the birthing, and had even been in the room the whole time whilst his sister screamed and swore. One of the midwives had remarked disapprovingly that this was no place for a man, to which the knight had smiled sharply and asked which of them proposed to keep him out. Leanor had had to hide her smile at that, which had been easy considering Cersei started shrieking again.

"I don't envy you, ser," She had remarked to the knight after the baby was out and Cersei was asleep, exhausted. Ser Jaime had just got up to leave, as she was removing the bloody rags from the bed. "Her Grace looked like she was breaking every single bone in your hand,"

He had laughed at that. He had always been kind to her whenever they had spoken, perhaps having heard of her friendship with his lonely little brother. She still wrote to Tyrion, at least once a month, and loved to receive his replies.

"It's my left," Jaime said. "I could live without it,"

*

Most people Leanor met at court seemed amazed to learn that she was the sister of Sandor Clegane.

"I was expecting a scowling, angry woman when I heard the Hound's sister lived at court," Elinor Massey, Cersei's newest lady, tittered vapidly during one of their lunches in the garden. Young Joffrey was not present, so neither was Sandor, otherwise they wouldn't have dared say such a thing. "You're actually quite friendly, and I love your stories," 

Leanor had learned to make friends with everyone she could, so simply smiled.

"I had not realised that everyone mirrored their brothers, Lady Elinor," She said in good-natured jest. "Do you play the fool as much as Ser Justin? Is Lady Kateryn as pious as dear Lord Sunglass?" 

Kateryn Sunglass was known to freely flirt with handsome knights, and enjoyed her drink. From anyone else that would've sounded like a challenge, or an insult, but she had learned to appear so unthreatening and friendly that she got away with it; her low social status helped a lot with that, for how could one so common possibly pose a threat? Indeed, both Lady Elinor and Lady Kateryn laughed. 

"That's fair, I suppose," Elinor admitted.

"Your brother does frighten me so," Another lady said. "Are you not scared of him at all, Leanor?"

"No," She had to laugh. "Of course not," It did make her laugh the way people stared when she hugged Sandor, smiled to see him or hung off his arm when walking. "He's my brother," She realised how foolish that statement was half a second later, when she remembered that Gregor was also her brother.

Nonetheless, Cersei was clearly amused by her behaviour with the ladies.

"You mock them without them caring, or even noticing," She said later that afternoon, as Leanor helped her dress for dinner. "Silly hens,"

"I didn't mention you in that conversation about brothers, your Grace," Leanor's lips twitched, though she noted that Cersei's eyebrows rose rather dangerously at that. Odd. "You'd have disproved my point - you look just like Ser Jaime, are just as fierce and as for the kingslaying..." 

The queen's expression relaxed and she laughed, both well aware of the woman's dislike of her husband. Leanor knew that her words were edging slightly too close to treason, but it was only a jest, and Cersei was hardly going to say anything against someone who mocked Robert with her.

*

By the time Leanor was fifteen, she had realised that whilst she could never be called beautiful - her scar, height and hooked, broken nose saw to that - she was reasonably pretty with her sharp cheekbones, dark hair and grey eyes, even if her face did occasionally look rather gaunt when she didn't smile enough. She didn't have much by way of a bust, but her hips were very shapely on her otherwise tall and slender frame. By the way she saw men glancing at her, she knew that she was not ugly, at least.

They knew better than to do more than look, however, and they only ever made bawdy jests or inappropriate comments once. Sandor looming over her shoulder at any sign of unwanted attention was enough to scare off most of the foolish young boys who would've tried anything.

At seventeen, her brother stood inches over six and a half feet tall, and was huge, known for his incredibly speed and ferocity in the training yard... and a swift right hook that could knock a man unconscious if he caught them looking the wrong way at his little sister. His scars only made him more terrifying to others, though Leanor had stopped being scared by them when she was five years old.

Cersei, much to her surprise, had actually written to enlist Dorna in finding Leanor a decent betrothal. No doubt the woman had already been looking, grateful for her years of good service and companionship, for she managed it within the year, and informed her of it during a visit to court. Leanor was to wed Ser Denys, a younger son of House Marbrand, which was a better match than she had expected given she was only the daughter of a landed knight.

"Don't be silly, dear," Dorna - on a visit to King's Landing - waved her away when she mentioned the fact. "You're beautiful, clever and very good with children. Mine all adore you," She lowered her voice. "And quite honestly, as a third son Ser Denys is not marrying below his station. You have the queen's ear, after all," 

"If you say so," Leanor shrugged. "I only have one question - do you know how tall he is?" Whilst she had no problem being friends with Tyrion, she would feel rather absurd if she was noticeably taller than her husband. Dorna laughed at that. 

"I'm afraid not," She said. "His elder brother, Ser Addam, can't be much shorter than Jaime though. They've been friends a long time," Given that she was almost the exact same height as Jaime Lannister, that was not exactly comforting. 

Cersei was surprisingly pleased by the match. Leanor hadn't thought she'd have much of an opinion.

"He's only a third son," She had said, satisfied. "That means you can both stay here in court rather than you be whisked off to some dreary little keep. He can be one of my knights, and you will stay in my service,"

"Thank you, your Grace," Leanor smiled. "You are most generous," 

Cersei's manner of speech never failed to amuse her. Although in all honesty she didn't blame the queen for not wanting her to leave. She was very good with Cersei's infant son, Joffrey, who screamed and squalled for all his nursemaids but quietened when Leanor stepped in. Of course, the queen would never admit that her handmaid was better with her own son than she was, but wished her to stay nonetheless.

The wedding happened before the end of the year. Dorna and several of the other ladies from Casterly Rock met her at Ashemark, located in the mountains near the source of the Tumblestone. Leanor met her betrothed the day before the wedding, and found him comely enough, kind, honest and earnest, if nothing extraordinary. He seemed rather charmed by her, despite the fact that he was a shade shorter than she was.

His family were somewhat cautious about the match, as despite what Dorna said, she really was rather too lowborn even for a third son of House Marbrand. Her family name also carried a heavy reputation, and not a particularly good one. But she did come with good recommendations from both Dorna and Darlessa Lannister (who was Lord Damon Marbrand's niece) and Queen Cersei, which did mean a lot.

Leanor wasn't too concerned, as the family had clearly thought this through and agreed to it already. Her usual lack of nerves likely helped, as during dinner she had an engaging conversation with her future goodfather Lord Damon about breeding dogs, talked with Ser Denys' elder sister Alysanne about their shared love of riding, and even managed to turn his rather disapproving mother around by talking of how she enjoyed taking care of the children of both Lady Dorna and Queen Cersei.

"Oh I knew you'd be brilliant!" Dorna embraced her afterwards, when they were in private. "You're so good in conversation and that quiet confidence of yours is truly charming. No one seems to scare you," 

"Who in the world could possibly scare her after growing up around Gregor Clegane?" Tyrion, who had been permitted to attend by his father - one of the rare occasions he was allowed to appear at a public event - said wryly. 

Leanor was glad to see her friend again, even though the height difference between them had only increased since she last saw him. Of course, Tyrion had remarked upon this with his usual self-deprecating humour, only shutting up when she dropped to her knees to give him a hug, which he seemed rather surprised at. 

She had been able to tell that something was bothering him, however, and that night she had managed to coax the entire awful story out of him about the crofter's daughter Tysha who he married, only to discover she was a whore paid for by his brother Jaime. Leanor had hugged him again after he ended up shedding tears recalling how his father had made him watch the entire barracks take the girl, each paying her a silver coin, and that he had to give her a gold one because 'Lannisters are worth more'.

"He shouldn't have done that," She muttered into his ear. "I don't care that he's Tywin Lannister, you're his son and he shouldn't treat you that way,"

Tyrion let out a rather choked laugh at that.

"Don't let anyone hear you say so," He said, but seemed grateful nonetheless.

Sandor gave her away in the sept several days later, scowling the whole while. He had been given leave to come away from King's Landing with her, where he now acted as a sworn shield to young Prince Joffrey rather than Cersei herself. They called him the Hound, a title he found darkly amusing and had his helm moulded into the shape of a snarling dog.

"You're too young to be married at fifteen," Her brother had grumbled when she told him the news. "Marbrand is what, thirty?"

"Not even twenty," She'd corrected with a laugh at his ridiculousness. "It's a good match, better than any Father could've arranged. And seeing as he'll come to King's Landing with me, I'll be able to see you just as often,"

In the end her brother grudgingly agreed that Denys Marbrand seemed a more honest man than most, and would treat her right at least. She could not get him to back down from having a 'private talk' with her husband during the wedding feast, however, shaking her head apologetically when Denys came back looking rather pale.

"Ignore him," She said with a small smile. "His bark truly is as bad as his bite, but I won't let him use it,"

"Would he listen to you, my lady?" He said, amused but clearly a little shaken. "You're tall for a woman, but he's three times your size,"

"Sandor wouldn't dare," She said honestly, grinning at his raised eyebrow. 

She was grateful for her brother that evening, however, when it came to the bedding ceremony. Sandor seized her arm in his and glared viciously at any man who dared step too close, resulting in a subdued, grumbling but respectful escort to her marriage bed. Her husband, on the other hand, was carried in by a gaggle of giggling women and girls, stripped almost completely naked save for his smallclothes. 

When they were alone together he laughed at their difference in attire. Leanor had remarked wryly that at least he would be the only one to have the dubious honour of seeing her bare, and he had laughed some more.

Her husband was a good man, she came to the conclusion, and she would not simply have to tolerate being married but may actually enjoy it.

*

After the wedding, she and Denys travelled back to court and it was more of the same; except whilst Leanor served Cersei as her handmaid and companion, often helping to care for her son, Denys served as one of the queen's knights.

Leanor's first child was born in 288AC, a year after her wedding. Pregnancy was unpleasant and the birth was even worse - Sandor wearing a hole in the floor pacing outside the door the entire time didn't help - but it was worth it when she held her son in her arms. They named the boy Owen after Denys' grandfather. It was hard to tell who the baby resembled at that age, but he had her dark hair and Denys' blue eyes, her nose (poor child) and oddly enough something of Sandor in his smile. 

She had always loved children but the love she felt for her own eclipsed all of that. Whilst Leanor continued to serve the queen, she could not wait to return to her son afterwards, much preferring to care for him herself than leave the job to the young girl (not a nursemaid or wet nurse, she could hardly afford that) she had hired for when she or Denys weren't there. 

Their next child came only a year later, a daughter who they named Esme for Leanor's own grandmother. The girl had dark hair like her brother, and her mother's grey eyes, but aside from a hint of Clegane gauntness her features were all Marbrand. She would be beautiful when she grew, and Leanor thanked the gods she did not curse a daughter with her hooked nose.

The year following Esme's birth was rather difficult, as whilst she had a baby of her own, the queen had also given birth to a daughter, Myrcella. Considering how well she did with Joffrey, Cersei officially appointed Leanor to be one of the girl's ladies alongside being her own handmaid. 

She was little more than a glorified head nursemaid, but she didn't mind - she did like children, after all, and Myrcella was a sweetheart - it was simply rather difficult to deal with both her young children, the princess and the queen (who was more trouble than all the children), even with the help she paid for.

The next time Leanor grew big with child coincided with Cersei's own pregnancy in 291AC. Prince Tommen was born only a few months later than her own son, an auburn-haired boy called Arron who looked just like his father aside from his grey eyes.

The closeness in age, and the fact that she spent as much time with the younger two royal children as she did her own, resulted in Leanor's sons and daughter being raised almost alongside the prince and princess; she could not afford to pay for anyone to look after Owen, Arron and Esme after they stopped being infants, so she simply brought them along with her whenever Denys was on guard duty. 

Though Joffrey was growing up to be a rather troubling child, Tommen and Myrcella grew to be close friends with her children. Owen and Arron were both big, boisterous boys and liked dragging the more timid Tommen out into the practice yard with them, whilst Myrcella and Esme were kindred spirits, both bold and adventurous but good at courtesies when it counted. They were both worryingly good liars too, able to look perfectly innocent whilst hiding a tray of cakes stolen from the kitchens.

Whenever Tyrion visited from the Westerlands, he doted on his sister's two younger children, and thus Leanor's own as they were always around. 

"You know," He remarked to her one day, as they watched the children play. "I do believe you are my only friend,"

"Don't say that," She frowned in sympathy. "Your brother Jaime is always asking me what you've written in your letters,"

"I'm not sure why - he writes to me every month or so himself, which for him is a considerable effort seeing how poor he is at reading," Tyrion said. "Alright, with the exception of those who are related to me and those who want my money - you are my only friend,"

"Well in that case I hope I can be a good one," 

"Oh gods, I forgot to tell you," He remembered something suddenly, pulling a face that seemed half amused and half disturbed. "My father has been struggling - understandably - to find a betrothal for me. He noticed me writing to you and said that he wishes he had requested you marry me, as 'only one so lowborn would even think about accepting a match with the dwarf Lannister'. Gods, can you imagine the wedding? I'd have to have a step ladder to cloak you,"

"Your father is charming as ever," Leanor snorted. "Well between us I suppose our children would have been perfectly average in height," Tyrion laughed at that. 

"I must say, it's nice to see children playing like... children," He glanced at her own three children, and his niece and nephew. "I had to suffer through a meal with Cersei, Robert, Joffrey and my father last night, and I tell you that boy is a menace,"

"You don't need to tell me that," She grimaced. "You know how he calls Sandor his dog? So of course I'm the 'dog's sister'. Well one day he thought it absolutely hilarious to call me a bitch," She smiled. "Sandor normally takes his jibes quite well, but not then. He was furious, and Joffrey was so shocked at his dog finally biting back that he's never called me that again,"

By the end Tyrion was laughing loudly.

Leanor had spent lots of time with Joffrey when he was a baby but now he was Sandor's charge, not that her brother liked the boy. Few did. By the age of eight the little prince was one of the few children that she would consider to be vile, bullying his siblings and the servants, even torturing small animals.

All of her own children behaved properly, as did the prince and princess. Tommen and Myrcella were sweet children, and seemed to show more affection to Leanor than they did to their own mother, something which Cersei thankfully barely noticed; her favourite child was Joffrey, and she had little time for the other two. 

Leanor felt sorry for Sandor, who had to put up with Joffrey all day, every day.

Though often rude and abrasive, even with her, her brother still crowned Leanor queen of love and beauty whenever he won a tourney, or if not her then Esme. It still amused her how surprised Sandor was that her children were not afraid of him, even trying to clamber up his enormous frame as a game. Even Denys was more scared of him than the children were. No matter how gruff he was with them, neither Owen, Esme or Arron were at all fazed.

"Those brats of yours have no survival instinct," He grumbled to Leanor, though she heard the hint of fondness in his tone. "Just like you. Most children run when they see my scars,"

"Or they just know that you're not going to hurt them," She had raised an eyebrow. "They've grown up seeing your scars," 

"We'll see about that when they're old enough to go into the practice yard," Sandor said. "Your younger one has a mouth on him, he's just asking to get hit around,"

"It'll do him good," Leanor shrugged, taking a sip of wine. Her brother smirked then. 

"Not one of them will grow up half as tough as their mother. You've had to put up with Gregor, Father, me... Cersei," 

She spat out her wine at that, choking and spluttering but amused, hitting him on the shoulder as he laughed.

*

When she was four-and-twenty, Leanor was horrified to learn that Gregor was to visit the city. He had done so a couple of times before, for tourneys and such, but she had been able to keep out of his way. This time, however, she was pregnant once more for the first time in several years and felt very vulnerable.

She tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, yet despite her efforts her eldest brother cornered her after a feast one evening in a deserted corridor. 

The moment she saw him she knew there would be trouble. 

"Not going to run away this time?" He sounded both amused and uncaring. Those were the first words he had spoken directly to her since she was ten. But Leanor had frozen, dread filling her, praying for someone to come down the hallway. "Why won't you speak?"

She finally remembered how to move and stumbled back as he reached for her but he was too strong to resist. He grabbed the front of her dress and shook her roughly, huge face glaring down at her. Leanor towered over most women and was of a height with tall men, but her brother made her feel like a terrified child again.

"You didn't look so scared at the joust," He said. Of course not, she had forced herself to act as normal, to ignore the fact that the man who still haunted her nightmares was less than a hundred feet away; a long ingrained habit of keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact and being as unnoticeable as possible. "You didn't even look at me. Not so cocky now, though,"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Gregor was bigger now than he ever had been when she was a child, and time away from him had not made her get over her fear. If anything it had worsened it.

Her lack of response clearly irritated him, as the next thing she knew there was a sharp pain in the back of her head; he had slammed her roughly against a wall, huge hands crushing her with a growl of rage as she struggled furiously. 

"If you won't speak I'll make you," His intentions became all too clear when he ripped her skirt and forced her legs apart.

"I'm your sister!" She finally found her voice and punched his chest in vain. "I'm your sister, get off, you're hurting me!" He didn't even flinch. There was nothing behind his eyes, only deadened malice. She wasn't just afraid for herself, as his weight was on her swollen stomach, likely crushing the baby.

"Clegane!" Came a sharp voice from the end of the corridor and she could've sobbed with relief. "Leave whichever poor serving maid you're molesting alone. I may be a poor excuse for a Kingsguard but I draw the line at standing by and watching you rape a woman in the halls of the Red Keep,"

She recognised the voice as Ser Jaime, Cersei's brother. Which was good, as the only person Gregor may have obeyed in that moment - or ever - was a Lannister. Even so, it was with clear reluctance that her brother moved off her with a grunt of anger, storming off down the hall without another word.

Leanor sank to the ground, legs feeling like jelly, her head still slightly woozy where he'd slammed her into the wall. Her breath came in short gasps, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent the sobs getting out.

"Lady Leanor?" Lannister sounded shocked to see her, walking over to her and crouching. "Gods, I didn't think he would attack his sister," There was an odd look in his eyes. "How badly did he hurt you?"

"Thank you for stepping in, Ser. I'm alright," She tried to say, only to wince as a stabbing pain shot through her abdomen, her vision suddenly turning into a tunnel, head spinning. "Or perhaps not. If you don't mind, could you get me to the maester?"

Perhaps she passed out then for a moment, for when she woke up she was being carried in someone's arms.

"Kingslayer!" Sandor was roaring. "What have you done to her?"

"Saved her from your brute of a brother," Ser Jaime snapped back. "Next time I'll leave him to rape her, shall I?" 

There was a nasty pause.

"I'm going to kill him," Sandor said, voice low and dangerous, and it took her back fifteen years. "I'm going to fucking kill that evil cunt, cut his head off and burn it,"

"Do you want to die, Clegane?" Lannister said impatiently. "Even if you win against the Mountain, you'll have to deal with the wrath of my father. Don't go tearing off after your brother. I'll put it to Cersei, say that Myrcella or Tommen could easily have been with your sister when he attacked her. That'll get him sent to the Wall at least. Besides, Cersei likes Leanor, she'd kill any man that dared touch her. Why should Gregor Clegane be any different?"

Amazingly her brother managed to rein in his temper.

"Fine," He growled. "But if that doesn't work, I'm going to bash his fucking head in,"

"Fine by me," She felt Jaime shrug. "Now she needs a maester, I think he hurt her stomach,"

"Stomach?" Sandor said sharply. "She's with child, fucks sake! Give her here," Leanor felt herself be transferred from Lannister's arms to her brother's but then she must've lost consciousness again as she remembered no more.

She lost the child. Maester Pycelle told her that she'd be lucky to become pregnant again, let alone carry the baby to full term. It was a blow, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had three healthy, wonderful children already.

If there was a silver lining to the horrible event, however, it was that Queen Cersei was furious at Gregor. She wrote to her father and appealed to Robert, demanding that the 'rabid dog' be sent to the Wall or even better, executed. What if he had come across Leanor when she was with the royal children? Even Ser Jaime backed her up, giving his account of what had happened. 

As a result, despite Tywin Lannister's displeasure, Gregor Clegane was packed off to the Wall, contained in cage with solid iron bars. If the black brothers were smart they would send him on some suicide mission beyond the Wall to be killed by wildlings and direwolves and snow bears. Or just hang him the moment he arrived.

His absence didn't stop Leanor's nightmares from resurfacing every once in a while, but it was reassuring to know that he wouldn't come near her children again.

Sandor was now legally the master of Clegane Keep, but claimed that he didn't want it, transferring the lands to Leanor, Denys and their children. Whilst Leanor had no desire to return to her childhood home, which had been a dark place of terror and death for so long, it wasn't a bad prize for a third son and Denys eagerly took some leave to see the towerhouse that was now partly his, and would be passed on to Owen in time.

I arrived in the village to see them in the middle of some kind of festival, he wrote to her back in King's Landing. I asked around, only to be told they were celebrating the fact that your brother would never be coming back.

*

When Owen was eleven, he began to squire for his uncle, Ser Addam Marbrand, heir to Ashemark and one of the most trusted knights in Lord Tywin's service. Leanor was saddened to see him leave King's Landing for the Westerlands, but that was life. She would be grateful that her son would have a place in the world, a knighthood, a life and keep of his own, even if it was at the cost of her own feelings.

Arron, three years younger, desperately wanted to follow in his elder brother's footsteps. Though still tall for his age - how could he not be? - he was slighter than his typically-Clegane elder brother, but had an even greater talent for swordplay than Owen had had at that age, and seemed to be a natural. Sandor trained with him often.

"Selmy seems to be taking an interest in your boy," He said gruffly to her one evening when they dined together in her chamber. "Said to me earlier that he'd consider making him a squire in a few years, if he keeps this up,"

"Ser Barristan said that?" Leanor asked, surprised but greatly pleased. "That's wonderful! Oh he idolises that man, he would love to be trained by him," Even her brother had to smile at her delight.

"Might be a proper knight one day. Better than if he stuck with me," There wasn't much bitterness in his tone. Though Sandor had always refused a knighthood - Leanor herself still held no delusions about the supposedly noble and chivalrous order - he did not resent his nephews aiming to be called ser one day.

As for Esme, she and Myrcella were as close as sisters. Often Leanor thought that Cersei disliked the fact that her daughter was such good friends with the daughter of her handmaid, but quite honestly she didn't bother enough with her two younger children to do much about it. No, she was too busy fawning over Joffrey.

Having known Cersei since she was ten years old, Leanor wouldn't have thought she would take nonsense from anyone, let alone her own children, but she was proven wrong in Joffrey. Where Tommen would be punished greatly for stepping out of line, it wouldn't surprise Leanor if Joffrey quite literally got away with murder. She often had to bite her own tongue and stop herself stepping in when the boy would act so rudely and cruelly, especially to his own siblings. Cersei would certainly see that as her overstepping the line.

But as things went, Leanor's life was pleasant. Her children had promising futures ahead of them, her day-to-day life as handmaid to the queen and sort-of-governess of two of the royal children was work she didn't mind doing, and Gregor, the dark shadow over her whole childhood, was as good as dead. 

But the day Jon Arryn died, everything descended into chaos.

*

I didn't think I'd ever post this - it just started off as a fun 'what if Sandor's sister survived childhood' then somehow grew into 11k words. Anyway, what do you think? I'd love to hear from any readers in the comments, be it positive feedback or constructive criticism. Should I continue this or leave it at is?