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The Mountain Part 21 - Hurt

As he pulled her close and she didn't stiffen or try to pull away, again, Gregor wondered what caused her to be so brave. His Lady wife only sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair and pressing her body into his. "Little Doe..." He said softly, closing his eyes for a moment, he feeling  the throbbing in his head lessening. "Your head, it hurts you, my Lord?" She asked,him, her voice quiet, soothing. He nodded, raising his head to look into her eyes. "Aye, it does." He answered, and her brow furrowed with concern. She caressed his face with her fingertips. Her touch was like feathers brushing against his rough beard and he sighed. Melicent leaned closer and laid tiny kisses on his forehead, then, her lips moving to his temples. Her kisses made him think of warm summer rain, falling gently, almost imperceptibly onto his skin. Gregor turned his head slightly to capture her lips with his own, and she gave a tantalizing littl...
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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 chuckle...
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The Mountain Part 20 - Disquiet

They returned to the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, Gregor walking beside her, arm around her possessively, resting his big hand at the curve of her hip. He would protect her. She was still shaking, and what she would have liked, was to lean into him, to let him bear all of the weight of Arys Dayne's execution, yet she walked beside him, head held high, refusing to show her new husband how weak she really was. She must be weak, she knew. A brave girl would not have been sorry to see the Dornishman meet his demise, she thought, but Melicent felt sick, chilled... the image of Arys on the saltire, his entrails spilling from his gut, the sound of that sickening blow... his screams... repeated over and over in her mind. It wasn't that she wanted him to live, not really. But watching... seeing ... she'd never wanted that. Was there more to it than that? She didn't rightly know. Arys's death, the violence of it, scared her. Her Lord Husband's pleasure at the completion...
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