4.11.12

Bolton Rising - Part 29 - Gregor

It had been to long since he had brought Sandor into the emergency room, beaten half to death, perhaps more, and barely breathing. Gregor paced up and down the hallways, glaring at anyone who gave him a questioning look. Keeping  the entire place on edge, security guards with anxious hands on their gun holsters, while doctors and nurses avoided crossing paths with him and held back any updates on his brother's condition. The Mountain finally walked outside, getting a signal on his cell and dialed the last number he ever wanted to call.

"Baelish here." The line answered and Gregor clenched his jaw, taking a deep breathe before answering. "You need to get to the hospital. Sandor is hurt. Badly." He replied with a clipped tone, not waiting for the Mockingbird's questions, and hung up. Gregor then headed to the parking lot and jumped  into his truck, shaking hands grasping the steering wheel as he speed off into traffic and drove into the darkness of the night. The Mountain's thoughts were racing through his troubled mind.

He couldn't go home. Not to Melly. What if he lost control again and turned on her too? 'Look what I did to my own brother. I'm a fucking monster!' Gregor lashed out and punched his dashboard, his massive sized fist leaving a hole behind. He glared at the instant, brutal damage and turned off the main road, heading towards Ramsay's compound.  The oldest Clegane let himself in, ignoring the Bastard Boys who were playing table pool and their invitation to drinks, stomping down the empty hallways, seeking out one of the guest rooms to spent the night.

It wasn't long before his boss was knocking on the door, Ramsay strolled inside with a black robe on and disheveled hair, clearly awoken from his sleep. "You didn't have to get up. I just needed a place to crash." Gregor spoke up when his boss took a seat and lifted pale brows in question, those piercing blue eyes demanding an explanation.

"You haven't slept over here since the night you took Melly from me." Ramsay tapped out a cigarette from the box and lit the end up, taking a long slow drag, before exhaling a puff of smoke. "Don't tell me you let a woman kick you out of your own home Clegane." The Bastard smirked, looking like an amused devil at the Mountain's predicament.

Gregor gave the Bastard a dark glare. "No. I haven't been to the house since this morning you smug asshole. I need to stay here so I don't hurt her." Clegane swirled the glass of strong vodka in his hand. "Something is wrong with me Ramsay. I can't trust myself around Melly, alright?"

"Well since you woke me from a sound sleep, you better explain more than that Clegane. I'm going to be in a foul mood come morning, if that's all I'm going to get out of you." The Bastard of Bolton replied, getting up to pour himself a drink and snuffing out his spent cigarette, then returning to the chair and staring at the closed lipped Mountain. "Tick-tock... I'm waiting."

"Fuck it." Gregor down his drink, giving his boss an annoyed look before re-telling the events of the night. The savage beating he gave his brother Sandor at the fight club and the strange hallucinations he experienced. Along with the trip to the hospital,  his call to Petyr Baelish and the drive over to the compound. The whole time he spoke, Clegane felt the lingering dark shadow of his soul rising up again and turned his eyes upon Ramsay, recognizing that same dark stain upon the Bastard's own soul.

"You look like you want to murder someone Gregor. Perhaps me old friend?" Ramsay remarked while casually smoking, noting the Mountain's strange shift in mood. "I doubt you would find me so easy to beat... not like your dog of a brother." Bolton got up, giving Gregor a measured gaze and a smirk. "Stay here. I'll be back with something to focus your mind."

Back in his own bedchambers, Ramsay grabbed his cell while Arya laid in the bed, asleep on her stomach. He reached down with his hand, brushing aside her soft, pretty hair and leaned down to kiss her bared shoulder. "Stay here my pet." Bolton whispered when she stirred, then stepped out into the hallway, dialing Clegane's place.

"Good evening, lost little doe." Ramsay teased when Melly answered, his voice sinfully sexy, laced with seduction, but solid as steel. "I have your man over here and he needs you, girl. I expect you over here soon." He glared out a window when she dared to protest in reply. "Don't make me come fetch you. I doubt you've forgotten the taste of my whip. And Melly... wear something that I would enjoy." Ramsay laughed, hanging up on Clegane's woman with a smile upon his face.

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