A week had passed and Lana had gathered everything that she needed for the mission. She had infiltrated the private stores of Grand Maester Pycell while he was busy whoring.

Lana paid the whores extra to ensure he was thoroughly distracted. The old idiot though too strongly with his balls, but Lana wouldn't complain. It was an easy and reliable form of manipulation.

She also stopped attending the tavern for her nightly drink, and instead spent the nightly hours scouting the castle, learning its halls, and finding the best routes. She'd make sure to carry rope with her, in case she had a need to repel in a castle built upwards rather than outwards. She would place a bag with her goods, and a fresh outfit, in a secure area right before attending Lady Hornley in Maegor's Holdfast.

Lana wanted desperately to look for the dragon eggs she had been traded for twenty-three years ago, but she withheld. She could not get caught, especially now that everyone was on edge, all the eyes alert and ears listening. The most important thing now was that Lana made it to Meereen to serve Daenerys. That was her true goal and destiny.

Not only is it what Lana personally wanted, but the shadowbinder that helped raise her, Sedona, told Lana many time that she would need to help bring dragonfire to the northern areas of Westeros. Lana was certain that that meant she had to help Daenerys.

Soon. Soon I can leave.

On her only day off, Lana walked the halls of King's Landing, examining it further to see if she missed anything. The sound of multiple men in armor grew louder in the direction that she approached, but she carried on, curious as to who it was. A group of soldiers, perhaps, readying for the siege? Around the corner, Lana was surprised to see it was actually Queen Cersei. She walked with her head held high, her hands gently clasped over the other as her long, golden hair gently bounced with each step.

Lana curtsied and held it low as the queen passed.

But of course, Cersei stopped, and Lana's heart grew quicker in tempo. Lana didn't trust this woman. Not in the slightest.

"Vaella, is it?" Cersei asked with the falsest nicety Lana had ever come across.

"Yes, your grace. I am honored that you know my name," Lana said, forgetting her personal history and donning the face of Lady Morganna Hornley's handmaid.

"I was out on my stroll and was hoping to find you. I know it is your day off, but Lady Morganna speaks so highly of you. If you could please be a dear and tend to Lady Sansa for the rest of the evening. Her current handmaid is...indisposed," Cersei said, her lips moving in a way that Lana's skin crawl, like every word that came pouring out the queen's mouth was gospel.

"Yes, of course, your grace," Lana said.

"Thank you, Vaella." The queen smirked, and continued to walk forward, and Lana sighed as she re-oriented herself as to where Sansa's room was located. This was the last thing Lana wanted to do right now.

In truth, Lana didn't want to tend to the broken girl. Lana did not like to linger around people that were stuck in horrid situations with no means of escape. It was purely depressing. It reminded her too much of slavery in Essos.

But she could not say no. It gave Lana great joy to think of returning to the seven kingdoms, with Dany's dragons, and to see the look on Cersei's face when that happened.

It took Lana longer than she liked to find Sansa's room, as Lana daydreamed about Daenyers' reclamation. Lana finally rounded a familiar corner in this windy castle, and was surprised to see that she was greeted with Sandor Clegane standing outside of Sansa's quarters.

Lana stood up straighter, hiding a smile, wondering if she'd get to know more about this odd soldier. This place was so dull, and she enjoyed any mental exorcise she got to get.

He glanced her way, and as she racked her brain for anything to spark up a dangerous conversation, he looked back ahead with no change in his expression. She pursed her lips. That was disappointing.

"Is Lady Sansa inside?" she asked.

He glared at her, speaking with heavy sarcasm. "No, I just like this spot a lot." He looked back ahead, huffing. " Obviously the little bird is in her cage."

Lana's eyes gently widened, trying to control her odd fascination. Most people at court were easy to understand, but not this one. He was humorous and yet entirely a jackass, and at the same time he was not cruel like Ser Meryn, who preferred to hit Sansa, while Clegane offered her his cloak. Lana enjoyed that, in a curious way. Plus, Kari's words about him were hard to forget whenever she was near him. "Thank you for the help," she said graciously, wondering if that would anger him. Just what makes this man tick?

He merely grumbled in return.

She knocked on the door, ignoring him for now and neglecting her own wants. She was like a child wanting to play with a direwolf, despite knowing it could bite or scratch at any time without having gained its loyalty. It was a fault of hers, and it had gotten her in trouble in the past. She had to avoid trouble for now, especially if she wanted to be an actual lady.

"Who is it," asked a miserable voice.

"Vaella. I am your new handmaid for the day."

"Come in."

Lana opened the door and shut it to see a sad girl with auburn hair and dead, blue eyes. Her underdress was on, the dress for the day still lying on her bed.

"Is the Hound still out there?" she asked.

"He is my lady," Lana answered softly.

"Why does he have to stand out there? Is it because of the siege?"

"I do not know, my lady."

"Who are you anyway? You look like a foreigner," Sansa said, her blue eyes full of judgement, her hands softly tumbling over the other, her body lanky from growth and probably refusing to eat.

"I am from Essos, My lady."

"Why are you here? At King's Landing?"

"I was imported by Lady Hornley, and I lived in-"

"Stop. I don't want to hear any more. Just help me put on my dress," she said and walked over to the mirror, the soft rays of the sun touching the red of Sasna's hair.

Lana nodded and went to assist. Sansa still had a gentle cut on her lips from where Ser Meryn smacked her when Joffrey tortured her in front of the court. Lana had noted that Clegane helped her that day, the first to bring her his cloak. It was then that her curiosity for him spiked. What a confusing man. Despite being a jackass, he ironically seems to be the most genuine of them all.

The only other people of court to garner Lana's deep interest were Little Finger and Lord Varys, although she quickly discarded that. They were not meant to tempt, as she learned they liked to spy as well. The least amount of cords in the spider's web that Lana could touch, the better.

"They say Stannis is coming," Sansa said quietly as Lana was lost in thought, trying to understand Clegane.

"I hear the same rumors," Lana said, trying up the back.

"I have to sit in Maegor's Keep when he comes," she said, looking over herself.

"I am sure it will be very safe. I will be there too, for Lady Hornley."

Sansa was quiet for a moment before sighed and said, "You're boring."

"Hopefully your original handmaid will be back soon."

"Yes, I miss Shae," Sansa said, the first emotion other than despair to be expressed. Lana noted that, and wondered what happened to her. Cersei seemed subtly pleased with this Shae's indisposition.

Sansa turned around, looking Lana up and down before saying, "I don't need a handmaid to take me through the gardens. I just need help with my clothes and linens."

Lana nodded and bowed her head. "Of course, my lady."

Lana gathered the sheets for the day, put them in a basket, and exited the door while Sansa sat by the window and brushed her hair. Lana left the room, and once again, the Hound ignored her as she walked by.

She was disappointed, but the feeling quickly fled, as she had other things to focus on now.

Sandor Clegane watched as the handmaid walked away, although he did so from behind, eyeing her hair that was lighter than most. The woman was beautiful, he'd give her that. But she was queer with her tendencies to walk the halls at night, drink wine in taverns, and not recoil at the sight of his face.

It made him wonder if she had been a whore at some point, prior to being a maid. Those were the only women that were able to stand looking at him.

The door opened with creak, stealing his attention, and Lady Sansa darted her gaze after looking up at him. He hated that. Didn't she know that out of all the men here, he was the least likely to beat her or rape her? Her beloved Joffrey was nothing more than a nightmare, and Sansa couldn't bare to look at him either.

Clegane scowled as he followed her. He hated to think that Sansa saw him as someone like Joffrey, the cunt that he was. Clegane felt a need to prove that he wasn't, to prepare her for her role as his queen. She was in need of a true guardian, and it was a role he longed to fill, as much as he knew it was pointless to attempt.

Every Lord or Lady grew hoggish and egotistical in the end, or they died like Ned Stark, meaning acts of valor from men like Clegane were pointless.

He often tried to ignore the little bird, but she reminded him too much of himself after Gregor held him in the fire. Sansa glared at Joffrey the same way Sandor glared at Gregor. Except the little bird was in no position to fend off the king, whereas Sandor could hold his own against his brother.

It evoked a protective side in him, knowing she actually needed someone like him to look out for her. Although her inability to show any appreciation or commonsense furthered his notion that any attempt to be a knight was for idiots, and he was behaving like one.

They halted as a group of soldiers walked by, readying for the siege. He caught that Sansa glanced up at him, and as he looked down, she quickly turned head away again.

"Still can't look at me?" he asked.

"Please, I don't want to have these conversations today," she pleaded, her voice feeble.

He grunted in return, resentful that this girl couldn't see he was the only one willing to help her here. Out of all the songs about life and romance, Sansa was living the realest song of them all – where nothing works and survival is key. But the dumb bird kept singing the wrong song.

He didn't really know why the Stark girl made him want to do some good in the world, but she just did.

He grit his teeth as they walked, the sweat underneath his armor dripping down his back and balls. All the while, little Joffrey was sitting in his room, preparing his armor for the siege with a nice cup of wine and Cersei to dote on him.

Clegane was nervous about the siege, in truth. He didn't want to die here, in this stupid fucking castle serving the worst shits in Westeros. Especially Joffrey. The golden-haired prick was getting on his last nerves and growing sadistic, along with entitled. Kingship just made him worse. How long would it be until Clegane would have to commit horrendous acts that made even him shudder? Why would he want to die in a war for Joffrey?

Clegane looked down at the red haired girl walking slightly in front of him. She had it worse. She would have to bed the king eventually, bare his children, and suffer him until he, or she, died. And mad little shits like Joffrey always seemed to live the longest.

The Stark girl didn't deserve that, and Clegane could do mostly nothing other than watch.

All because Cersei couldn't stop fucking her brother. If she had had Robert's offspring, it might be different now, and a boy with actual sense might be on the throne. And even though Clegane had only had twenty-eight name days under his belt, he felt like he was growing too old to bow down to those that didn't appreciate him. Maybe to anyone.

Clegane couldn't put his finger on it, but something was feeling off; a lingering sense that his time to leave was growing closer.