m_findlow

Title: Gods will
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Sandor Clegane, Beric Dondarrion
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 500 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt - Image at fffc
Summary: Clegane is forced to confront his fears.

'Look into the fire, Clegane,' Beric instructed him. 'The one true God will show you his will.'

Sandor Clegane didn't believe in Gods. God's were pious beings that only cared about themselves and whatever it was that they deigned everyone else should be. Where had the gods been when his older brother had thought it a game to shove his face in to a cauldron of burning coals just for playing with his stupid toys? If he hadn't hated his brother before that, he surely had afterwards. Even more so he hated all of those villagers that repeated over and over again to his father that it was the will of the gods to spare his son's life, even if he would be horribly disfigured for his entire life. If that was the will of the gods then they could go fuck themselves.

Even after he'd somehow survived the deep infectiohatedm the blade that had cut his shoulder, finding himself in the care of a huddle of complete strangers, he still refused to believe that it was the gods that wanted him alive. No matter how that kind old septon had insisted that only those of pure faith were given such wondrous mercies, he wouldn't believe it. Yes, he'd become one of them for a time, helping them to rebuild and restart their lives after every fucker in this war had come and uprooted them from their homes, destroying everything in their path. He'd enjoyed the manual nature of the work and the familiar ache in his shoulders that came from a long day's work. At least here he was doing something useful, not babysitting some pompous little would be king or marching from one cold, windy place to another, hoping to exchange an obnoxious lump of a girl for some gold.

All of that was in the past now. He was even beginning to enjoy listening to the septon's sermons as they all gathered for lunch and a half horn of ale. It was all harmless nonsense in the end.

And then those bastards had come along and destroyed the village, killing the men and scattering those that remained. He agreed with the Brotherhood that they deserved death, but he wanted them to suffer first. None of this noble death horseshit.

And now here he was, dragging himself after Dondarrion and that drunken fool Thoros.

'I don't want to look into your fucking flames,' Clegane replied.

'If you will not look, how can you ever believe?'

Fine, he thought. Just one look at the thing then Beric would fuck off and leave him alone. Except that when he peered into the wavering orange and red flames, he saw not fire but something else. An image of a huge pointed mountain covered in snow. It wasn't possible. Fire couldn't do that.

'Do you see it, Clegane? Rh'llor has shown us where we must go.'

He didn't want to believe it, but only a God could do this. 'I see it.'