Viserys, however, paid them no attention at all. He merely reached out instinctively and patted the side of King Ghidorah's neck.
Then he looked with interest at a man taller and broader than the others, who stood facing King Ghidorah, his entire body taut with fear.
The firelight illuminated his face. Viserys recognized it-or rather, found it very familiar indeed.
The right half of the man's face was covered in horrific burn scars. His skin was twisted and distorted, the burned flesh around his eye dragged its corner downward, and only a small portion of his outer ear remained.
The left half of his face, however, was intact, with sharply defined features and a closely trimmed beard that exposed the tense line of his jaw.
He wore finely crafted black leather armor that looked utterly different from anything the other wildlings wore, though it now bore several signs of repair.
A Westerosi two-handed longsword also hung at his waist. The leather of its scabbard had been worn shiny, making its frequent use plain to see.
This was The Hound, Sandor Clegane, who had previously fled King's Landing.
Now, under the scrutiny of King Ghidorah and Viserys, The Hound strained to keep his head raised, his gray eyes fixed on the one of King Ghidorah's three heads facing him.
Having seen King Ghidorah before in King's Landing, and even the Dragon Horde Viserys had brought with him, he had not collapsed to the ground or thought of fleeing outright as the others had.
He simply stood his ground, his right shoulder slightly lowered and his left hand already gripping his sword hilt. His knuckles had whitened from the pressure, and the muscles in his arm were as taut and hard as iron bars.
His gray eyes showed not a trace of