LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐕𝐈𝐈. fever

In retrospect, no one had directly told Sansorr to take care of the Kingslayer. But for reasons Sansorr didn't quite understand, he did it anyway. One would think that Sansorr's task of not letting the blond bleed to death was complete when the Kingslayer woke up after a long night and was tied to the horse again. This time, like Pyke, Sansorr was tied to a horse with a rope around his neck and was once again condemned to stumble after the Kingslayer's horse. But the Kingslayer was feverish and kept slipping, so Sansorr jumped more than once to stop the blond from falling.

Pyke and Brienne rode a little further back and were unable to intervene, leaving Sansorr and the Kingslayer exposed to the mockery of Locke's men. Sansorr shook with rage, but remained silent. The feverish Kingslayer was warning enough for him of what happened when the men were provoked. "Wake up," he hissed to the blond, who was moaning harshly and had already closed his eyes again, "Damn it, wake up, Lannister!"

This time he wasn't quick enough and the Kingslayer landed in the dirt. The part of Sansorr that was still overflowing with hatred for the Lannister scion would have triumphed now. But he was human, with feelings, and very capable of compassion. Locke's men laughed as Sansorr knelt by the Kingslayer and tried to pull him to his feet. "Now get up, don't give them the satisfaction," Sansorr hissed at him, patting his cheek roughly until the Kingslayer's eyes flickered open. Despite the dirt and blood, he was still beautiful. Sansorr flicked him against the cheek, furious at his thoughts and the Kingslayer's condition.

Locke's men laughed and Sansorr straightened his shoulders, standing up jerkily, holding the limp Kingslayer in his arms as he did so. "Shut your stupid mouths! Bloody Bolton assholes, you'll see how the West will pay you back! I'm looking forward seeing your heads on lances!" he growled, as if these men were not part of the troops of the North, but really his enemies.

Silence reigned for a moment, only strengthened by Pyke's soft laughter. Then someone yanked so hard on the noose around Sansorr's neck that he fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. The Kingslayer landed beneath him, but at least he seemed to have regained consciousness from the force of the fall. "Stark... Get off me," he groaned and Sansorr could hardly stop himself from spitting at him. Or at least hitting him, damn it.

"Well, I suppose we should give the noble Ser Jaime some comfort, then, shouldn't we?" Locke laughed, holding out a flask to the Kingslayer. The blond drank from it like a rejected puppy, only to spit it out a little later, retching. Sansorr recognized the smell of horse urine. This seemed to arouse a sudden rage in his fellow prisoner, who managed to steal a sword from one of the men and so the Kingslayer lunged at Locke, staggering. Laughing, Locke effortlessly disarmed him.

Sansorr, who had gotten up in the meantime, jumped forward as the Kingslayer collapsed and caught him. This time he managed to heave him back onto the horse. The blond whimpered but did not wake. Sansorr's gaze caught Locke's. The man grinned triumphantly and contempt burned in Sansorr. Miserable son of a bitch.

The horse was set in motion again and Sansorr stumbled on. His rage did not subside, driving him on. He would show these men what a mistake it was to mess with a Stark of the North. He might not have a damn pack anymore, but he was still a wolf.

He kept this mantra to himself, repeating it until he could no longer hear the men's taunts, until night fell over them and his stomach growled with hunger. When he was finally tied to a tree, with the Kingslayer beside him and Brienne and Pyke in front of them, he was simply relieved not to have to sit. And when food was brought to them, he gorged himself on it like an emaciated street dog. Not very wolfish of him, but fuck it. Pyke also ate greedily and, strangely enough, still seemed happy, even though he had dark circles under his eyes and his eyes looked sullen under his dark eyebrows. He probably just wasn't as spoiled as Sansorr.