Chapter 10 — The Hound
"That's… Sandor Clegane!"
Charles froze at the tension in Ned's voice. For the first time, the normally composed and steady man sounded uneasy — almost afraid. The muscles in his shoulders had gone rigid, and his breathing quickened ever so slightly.
That alone was enough to make Charles's pulse quicken. If Eddard Stark was nervous, then this wasn't just another knight.
"Is he that strong?" Charles whispered, keeping his voice low.
Ned's eyes flicked toward the corridor. "The Lannister bannermen are mostly vain, gold-draped peacocks," he said grimly. "But the Clegane brothers are the exceptions. They are monsters in armor — bred for killing, not honor."
He scanned their surroundings — a wide marble hallway lit by torchlight, far too open for comfort. Other than the thick stone pillar they hid behind, there was no real cover.
If the Hound came any closer, they'd be spotted for sure.
Ned's hand clenched around his sword hilt. The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor — slow, deliberate, and unhurried.
The Hound was approaching.
With every step, his outline grew clearer — massive shoulders, the grotesque helm shaped like a snarling dog, and the faint orange reflection of firelight glinting on steel.
Ned exhaled slowly, his decision already made. "I'll go out there," he said quietly. "Draw his attention. You use the distraction to find the tunnel I told you about — the hidden one beneath the Maidenvault. Once you find it, don't look back. Just run."
Charles frowned. "You're saying we can't beat him?"
Ned didn't answer directly. Instead, he said, "Once we're out there, avoid using your magic unless you have no other choice. If anyone sees what you can do, they'll brand you a demon. Or worse — the Red Keep will send someone much more dangerous after you."
"What about you?" Charles pressed.
The Hound's footsteps were getting closer — less than a dozen meters away now. The clank of metal plates and the scrape of his sword dragging against his armor echoed in the silence.
Ned's voice was steady, but there was resignation in it. "If one of us can get out alive, that's enough. I'm already crippled — I'd only slow you down. Better I stay and buy you time."
He shifted his weight, ready to step out from behind the pillar, but Charles's hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
Ned froze, startled.
"If you make it out," Ned said quietly, meeting Charles's eyes, "and ever pass through Winterfell… tell them I love them. Always."
He tried to pull free — but Charles didn't let go.
Ned's expression hardened. "Don't be foolish!" he hissed. "You'll get yourself killed! I might survive capture, but you— you'll be executed on sight!"
Charles's grip only tightened. "Not necessarily," he said with a faint smirk.
Before Ned could respond, the Hound's armored figure came into full view — barely ten meters away. His dog-shaped helmet glinted in the flickering torchlight, a twisted grin of steel reflecting fire.
Ned's heart pounded. One wrong move, one stray breath, and they were finished.
But beside him, Charles wasn't trembling. He was perfectly still — eyes focused, every muscle coiled like a spring.
Ned looked at him in disbelief.
He wasn't afraid. He was waiting.
For something.
For the perfect moment.
As the infamous Sandor Clegane — the Hound Knight — strode past the pillar, his heavy boots echoing across the marble floor, a sudden burst of motion shattered the silence.
A pale, skeletal figure darted from the far corner of the hall, its bony limbs clattering loudly as it bolted toward another wing of the castle. The sound was unmistakable — deliberate, almost theatrical.
The noise instantly caught the knight's attention.
Even through the narrow slits of his hound-shaped helm, the flash of white bone couldn't be missed.
Without hesitation, the Hound snarled and charged after it.
Hidden behind the pillar, Charles and Ned held their breath. The ruse had worked perfectly.
Skeleton One — the decoy Charles had ordered to act as bait — disappeared into the darkness, its echoing footfalls fading fast. Cloaked in shadow, the two men slipped silently in the opposite direction, the towering knight none the wiser.
The danger had passed.
Charles exhaled softly. "See? If you'd gone charging out there, that wouldn't have ended half as well."
Ned shot him a sharp look, realization dawning. "That thing… You planned this?"
Charles grinned. "Surprise."
"You—!" Ned's face darkened. "Why didn't you say something?!"
"Come on, loosen up. We just cheated death. You could at least pretend to enjoy it."
"Enjoy—?!" Ned's glare could have cut steel. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"
Charles raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, don't be so serious. Anyway, thanks for earlier. You were ready to risk your life for me — that's… good of you."
Ned's lips tightened. "A foolish good man, then? Much appreciated."
"Don't take it so personally, old man. If you weren't such a noble idiot, I wouldn't have hauled you all the way out of that dungeon. I'd have left you there."
"Oh? Truly? Then I should be honored, boy," Ned said dryly, rolling his eyes.
Anyone who'd steeled themselves to die only to find their "comrade" watching it all like a spectator would be annoyed. Especially in a place where death could come at any moment.
Charles only smirked. "If you really want to thank me, help me find that golden-haired bastard who stole my notebook."
Before Ned could reply, Charles hoisted him onto his back again and sprinted toward their destination.
Had Ned been a young woman, the moment might have carried a spark of romance. Unfortunately, he was a middle-aged man with stubble and a scowl, which made the situation more miserable than charming.
As they ran, Charles tried to lighten the mood. "Look, I dragged you all the way from that hellhole — that's not nothing, right? Nearly got killed doing it. I'd say that makes us partners in suffering, yeah?"
His chatter echoed softly through the corridor as they slipped into a long, rectangular fortress structure — the abandoned Maidenvault.
For the first time since their escape, Charles allowed himself to breathe. The tension in his body finally eased.
Ned, still grim-faced, was silent for a moment before muttering, "...I spoke out of turn earlier. Forget what I said. I was… agitated."
Charles chuckled. "An apology? From you? Guess miracles do happen. Maybe I should quit joking with you — you've got a bit of a generation gap."
Ned's lips twitched. "You'd get along with my sons."
"Oh? So should I call you uncle then?" Charles teased. "Nah. I think we're better off as equals."
Ned sighed. "Seven save me."
They circled the outer wall of the Maidenvault, searching. The place had clearly been deserted for some time. There were faint traces of cleaning — dust disturbed by servants, perhaps — but no sign of habitation.
That, at least, made their search easier.
Unfortunately, after a thorough sweep, there was still no sign of the supposed tunnel entrance.
"Think harder," Charles said. "Are you sure you don't remember anything specific about where it might be?"
"If my daughter were here, she'd know," Ned admitted, rubbing his temple. "She mentioned it once — over dinner. Arya's always been a wild one, full of strange ideas. I didn't believe her then."
Charles sighed. "Figures. Guess we'll have to find it the hard way."
They split up, moving quietly from one end of the hall to the next. The faint toll of the alarm bells outside had yet to stop, echoing through the stone corridors.
According to Ned, those were the Red Keep's warning bells. No doubt the entire castle was in an uproar by now, hunting for them.
Meanwhile, Charles's mental connection with Skeleton One had gone dead — most likely destroyed by the Hound. The thought made him frown.
Ned seemed to share the sentiment. "A shame. Without that skeleton, we'd never have made it this far."
"Yeah," Charles agreed softly. "He was a good soldier — for someone without flesh."
Then, as his gaze swept across a cracked section of floor near the far wall, a faint shimmer of text flickered before his eyes — his system's notification.
[You've discovered a hidden underground entrance leading to an unknown location. The edges are loose — it seems to have been used recently.]
Charles's lips curved into a smile.
"Found it."