The Mountain Part 22 - Fury

Nella's mind raced as Ser Reglas led her from the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. Shaking, heart pounding in her chest, her eyes stung with tears and she could feel her cheeks burning. How dare he? How could that horrible man treat her so badly? How dare he humiliate her in front of everyone in the Hall? He was so smug, so dismissive, so quick to write her off as some stupid, helpless woman. She would show him that it was a mistake to underestimate her. He would be sorry for treating her so badly, for hurting her sister, for everything...

Steering her ahead of him up the winding stairs, Ser Reglas led her through the long halls, holding her just above the elbow, gaunleted fingers tight around her arm, but not tight enough to hurt her. Stupid man, she thought. So blindly loyal to his Lord, so proud to have been knighted by that monster. "Let go of me, I can walk on my own." She spat over her shoulder at the big man, attempting to jerk her arm away from him.

Reglas chuckled, tightening his grip, "My Lord told me to escort you to your chambers, my Lady. It is my pleasure to do so." He flashed her a broad smile, raising an eyebrow as though waiting for her to challenge him. Nella decided not to give him the satisfaction and walked silently beside him, her head held high. Stupid, stupid man. She hated him, just as she hated all the others who wore Clegane's sigil. Nella knew that Ser Reglas was only newly knighted, but he was not new to Lord Gregor's service, so he must know all that went on here inside Harrenhal's high, thick walls. The sheer fact that he was loyal to Clegane was enough to make her loathe him. Anyone who supported the Mountain was now her enemy.

Which led her to thinking about something that she'd never thought would cross her mind. Would she grow to hate her sister? Melicent was sweet and kind, but she had never been a foolish girl. And yet it seemed to Nella that from the moment she'd heard Gregor Clegane's name, it seemed that all the sense that Melicent had once possessed had been caught in a passing breeze, spiraling away like the tendrils of smoke she'd watched rising from Karhold as they'd fled the castle. Could her sister's mind have been so damaged from the trauma they'd endured, that she was no longer capable of reason?

Upon reaching her chambers, Ser Reglas opened the door and ushered her through, then turned and barred the door from the inside. Nella's eyes grew wide and she looked up at the tall knight whose bearded face broke into a wry smile. "Before you command me to leave, my Lady, let me assure you that it's no use protesting. I'm to stand guard in your chambers. Though I think I'll sit, if you don't mind." Unbuckling his sword belt, the Knight strode across to a large chair by the hearth, armor clanging as he lowered himself into it with a grunt. Nella gasped when he actually had the audacity to wink at her as he propped his feet up on a nearby hassock.

"Out!" She shouted, taking a stuttering step forward, her fists clenched at her sides. "Get out at once! I order you to leave this chamber."

"You're wasting your breath, my Lady." Reglas removed his gauntlets and slipped a knife from a small sheath at his ankle. "If I'm to be your personal guard, you might try to be a bit more polite. We're to be spending a good deal of time together, it seems."

Nella was fuming, her dark eyes stormed and she felt a nearly overwhelming urge to hit the arrogant man right on the nose. "Do you plan to stab me with that knife?" She asked, tilting her chin as she stood her ground.

To Nella's dismay, Ser Reglas laughed aloud, slapping an armored knee with his hand. "Stab you? No, if you try to leave, I'll take you with brute force and tie you to your bed, my Lady. However, I promise not to stab you." He chuckled. "My job is to protect you, not carve you up." He selected a small piece of wood from a metal basket on the hearth. "I'm going to carve you a present. I've got to pass the time somehow, you know. I used to make all sorts of things for my sisters to play with. What would you like? A little doll? Perhaps a horse?"

Flashing him an indignant look, she stalked to the the door of her bedchamber. "I'm much too old for toys and I want nothing from you." Nella spat, glaring at the Knight, furious with him for being so smug, and with herself for being so foolish. "You are my jailer, not my lady in waiting. We are not friends Ser, I would appreciate if you did not speak to me as such. Carve a toy for my sister, she's grown simple enough that she would enjoy such trivialities. I shall be in my bedchamber, and I warn you not to follow me there. If you do, I will not hesitate to stab you with whatever is handy."

"Yes, my Lady, as you wish." Ser Reglas grinned back at her. She could hear him chuckling after she'd slammed the bed chamber door, which only increased her fury. Nella threw herself onto the bed and pounded her fists on the bedcovering. That wasn't in the least bit satisfying, so she kicked her feet as well. She wanted to scream, but would not give that infuriating man the satisfaction. She wished she could cry, however the tears never came anymore. Ever since they'd left Karhold, Nella had been unable to weep. She was filled with overwhelming sadness and as much anger, so much so that it felt as though there was ever a great, gnawing, aching feeling inside of her. Still, the tears would not come.

Rising from the bed, she began to pace the room, her silk slippers making no noise on the worn rugs that covered the cold, stone floor. Everything here was cold. No matter how many fires were lit, Harrenhal never seemed to warm. She wondered what Winter would be like here. Perhaps it would be colder than winters at Karhold, far to the North. I will not be here come Winter. Nella did not know how, but she knew she must find a way to leave this place. If Melicent was determined to stay with her Lord Husband, then she had put quill to her own death warrant. She could not stay here and watch her sister be killed by that monster, and she would not become a victim of the Mountain herself.

Dragging a blanked off the huge bed, she climbed into the window seat. How would it be possible to get her sister to listen to reason if she wasn't even allowed to see her? She'd heard the sounds coming from the Lord of Harrenhal's bed chamber and they had not been sounds of pleasure. She'd seen the bruises that Melicent's gown hadn't covered. That was not love, she knew. Her parents loved each other, in their way, and Nella had never once seen a bruise mar Lady Sylva's skin. Lord Tomard was a rough man, a fierce warrior, who had killed many men, and yet with his wife and children, he was kind.

Gregor Clegane was not capable of kindness, she could see this in his eyes, had seen evidence of this in his dealings with Ser Arys, with his own men, and yet Melicent loved him. She had not said as much to Nella yet, but they knew each other too well. To her, Melicent was as transparent as gossamer. She could see the way her sister looked at Gregor Clegane, the way she touched him, was different from the way she behaved with anyone else, more intimate. She was utterly vulnerable to him. Melicent was lost to her now. She knew she must accept this and find a way to leave this place, herself.