North of Casterly Rock, ten miles down the King's Road.
Julie Clegane helped the dust-covered Jeyne Westerling freshen up. Once she was ready, Julie and Rafford Clegane took the reins as drivers of Jeyne's carriage, while Gregor Clegane rode alongside on horseback. The Clegane cavalry followed close behind, and at Gregor's command, the procession slowly moved forward.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the road, its golden light stretching from the distant Sunset Sea.
Lord Gawen and his eight guards could only watch helplessly as Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane forcibly took charge of the carriage.
Swallowing his pride, Gawen followed behind the Clegane retinue, keeping a safe distance.
There's no reasoning with a madman.
And Gregor Clegane was exactly that, a madman.
Lord Gawen knew full well that even if he and his eight guards joined forces, they still wouldn't be a match for the Mountain. His priority was not to protect the carriage, not when Jeyne was still safe, but rather, to avoid provoking the brute.
Once they reached Lord Tywin, Gawen would seek justice. He'd make sure Gregor apologized.
For his daughter's safety and honor, Gawen decided to endure the insult.
Once Jeyne became Lord Tywin's daughter-in-law, her status would rise accordingly, and Gregor would be nothing more than a dog forced to obey her commands. The Westerling family, too, would benefit from her marriage, gaining newfound respect from the other Westerlands lords.
With this thought, Gawen began to feel a little better, the humiliation seemed easier to swallow.
The clip-clop of hooves echoed on the northern road.
Travelers who spotted the Mountain from afar quickly stepped off the road.
In the Westerlands, you don't cross the Mountain.
…
Inside the carriage, Gregor Clegane's deep voice came through the curtain.
"Lady Jeyne, I am Gregor Clegane."
Jeyne was so frightened she couldn't even respond.
But ignoring the Mountain might enrage him, what if he lost control? What if he yanked back the curtain and saw her face? What if he acted inappropriately, or even uttered some filthy, dishonorable words?
Already, the coarse jokes and vulgar remarks from the Clegane soldiers behind the carriage were seeping through the air. Jeyne blushed with shame, her face hot with embarrassment. Some of the things they said were simply… unspeakable.
"...Lord Mountain..." she began, and instantly realized her mistake.
"The Mountain" wasn't Gregor Clegane's name or title. It was an infamous nickname born of fear and loathing. Calling someone "a dog" or "a beast" might be fine behind their back, or whispered in private, but never to their face. It was a blatant insult.
Jeyne was mortified. For someone raised with strict manners and noble decorum, her slip was unforgivable.
But it was too late. The words had already left her mouth, stammered and awkward.
In truth, many people, even Julie, and the late Ser Serrett, and Gregor's own loyal men, had called him "Lord Mountain" to his face before. And Gregor never seemed to care. He didn't consider it an insult. It might even be part of what made him such a natural villain, he embraced the name.
But Jeyne, only fifteen years old, had never trained in warfare or courage. Her days had been filled with reading, embroidery, etiquette, music, painting, medicine, poetry, and the history of the Seven Kingdoms. She'd never built the resolve to face monsters like Gregor Clegane.
Her voice trembled as she awaited his reaction.
"Ah, my lady. I'm listening." Gregor replied calmly. His voice was deep but gentle, surprisingly mild.
Jeyne took a deep breath, steadying her nerves.
"...Ser Gregor... good day to you. Thank you, and your soldiers, for coming to escort me. House Westerling is deeply grateful, and I personally... appreciate your care."
Her heart pounded in her chest. By the time she finished, her forehead and nose were glistening with sweat. Her small, pale hands felt hot.
"Lady Jeyne, it was Lord Tywin who ordered me to greet you."
"Oh! Then please give Lord Tywin my sincerest thanks. House Westerling is honored."
"I am the one who is honored, Lady Jeyne. I should be thanking you."
"Ser Gregor, it is I, and House Westerling, who owe you thanks. We are humbled by your escort."
"Lady Jeyne, the copper basin, the spring water, and the towels were prepared personally by me. The silver mirror, the rouge, the powder, and the eyeliner, I purchased the finest ones in Casterly Rock as gifts for you. I'm honored that you accepted them."
The moment she heard this, Jeyne felt a chill rise in her heart. By the time he finished, cold sweat covered her entire body.
What did the Mountain mean by this?
Had she known the gifts were from him, she never would have accepted them. No matter how exquisite, she would have refused.
But now... she had already used them. The basin, the water, the towels. The mirror, the rouge, the powder, the brush. Julie had cheerfully told her they were carefully selected gifts from "my lord." and Jeyne, assuming she meant Lord Tywin, had accepted them all politely.
She had never imagined that these elegant, noblewoman-worthy items had come from Gregor.
Just remembering the rumors, the Mountain's treatment of women, made her blood run cold.
She wanted to scream for her father.
But it would be useless.
And technically, the Mountain had not violated any etiquette.
It had been her assumption, her mistake, that these gifts came from Lord Tywin. If she rejected them now, it would be her offense, not Gregor's.
And worse, she feared provoking him.
Even if he didn't dare physically harm her under Tywin's protection, he could still pull back the curtain and say something vile, something degrading.
That, too, was unacceptable.
"What's wrong, Lady Jeyne?" came Gregor's voice again. "Are you feeling unwell? Would you like me to take a look?"
She could feel his large hand pressing lightly on the curtain, as though he might lift it at any moment.
Jeyne's heart nearly stopped. It felt like he was about to climb into the carriage.
"N-no! I'm fine! Ser Gregor, thank you... for the gifts!"
"Did the gifts make you happy, my lady?" he asked again.
Jeyne had never found speaking to be so torturous.
She felt helpless.
She needed her father.
But even her father dared not offend the Mountain, and he was far behind, riding at a distance.
"...Yes." she finally said, forcing herself to lie. "I was... very pleased with them, my lord."
"Oh, that's good." Gregor replied casually. "Then I'll be able to report back to Lord Tywin."
That statement chilled her more than anything.
Why would he report to Lord Tywin?
These were personal gifts, not something Tywin had ordered. Gregor wasn't acting under orders when he prepared those items.
So why would he mention reporting back?
Something about it didn't sit right.
Some vague, unsettling suspicion took root in Jeyne's mind.
There was something between Gregor and Lord Tywin... something she didn't understand, and couldn't even begin to guess.
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