LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐈𝐈𝐈. joints

His senses slowly returned to Sansorr, but immediately he wished he could have remained unconscious. He could feel that his armor had been removed and the wound on his neck had been bandaged. Apparently they didn't want him to die. On the other hand, he was also lying in the dirt with his arms tied behind his back, the cold turning his breathing into little clouds.

Breathing raspily, he watched as the clouds of breath formed and then disappeared again, again and again.

He was a prisoner, he realized only slowly.

"Are you finally awake?"

A snippy voice reached his ear and he almost continued just laying there if he hadn't recognized the voice.

Growling with exertion, he heaved his knees securely, struggling not to lose his balance. The Kingslayer crouched in front of him in a similarly pathetic position. But though frozen mud and blood caked his face and hair and he no longer wore armor, he still looked as if he were looking down on Sansorr.

"There you go. I thought you were just going to die. You made quite a fuss, crying like a little girl," the Kingslayer snorted and laughed lightly, "It's an awkward situation you're in."

"I'll kill you."

The Kingslayer laughed and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"I'll kill you, you miserable piece of shit, damn you," Sansorr repeated, growling deeply and baring his teeth. His opponent laughed in disbelief, but his laughter faded as Sansorr attacked him.

Despite his bound hands, he managed to push the Kingslayer to the ground and put a knee on his chest, pinning him in that position.

"I don't need a bloody sword to rip your neck open, you bloody bastard. Oh, you wouldn't believe how long I've wanted to do this!" All his rage burst out of him fierily. No one could stop him from smashing the Kingslayer's face in now.

Fear and surprise flickered briefly in the Kingslayer's eyes, then he grinned again. "You want to bite my neck like a mangy dog? Well, that fits."

Sansorr smashed his skull against his nose, silencing him.

Even though pain exploded in his face, he could see that the Kingslayer was worse off. Blood spurted from his nose and he squirmed under Sansorr, cursing at him wildly.

His movements finally threw Sansorr off and he landed on the ground again.

"You madman, damn you," the Kingslayer groaned, moving as far away from Sansorr as his bonds would allow, "You broke my nose!"

"Not so pretty now, he? We're in the same mess now," Sansorr spat out, wiping the blood on his face awkwardly away on his shoulder, before he slumped down in a corner of the small shed. He stared doggedly at the rumpled ground in front of him.

The Kingslayer was lost, a pathetic swindler with no sense of honor. But Sansorr was not lost yet. He was a good man, he loved his family and his home. He would not simply accept banishment. Taking a shaky breath, he vowed to prove to Robb that he was worthy of being Stark. He would always be a Stark, it wasn't something that could just be taken away from him. It was part of his blood, his self.

"I am a wolf," Sansorr growled grimly.

The Kingslayer laughed and Sansorr gave him a scathing look. The man's handsome face was bloody and his nose swollen. Satisfaction spread through Sansorr at the sight.

"You're an exile, a commoner who lives in filth."

Damn, if only he had ripped out his tongue too.

"And what are you? An idiot. Without your father's orders and your cunt of a sister's mind, you wouldn't be able to do anything. Even your cripple brother is more intelligent than you. A disgrace you must be to your house. Defeated by a fifteen year old boy."