#Gregor clegane

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

I’m always a bit taken aback by these posts because I never see a ‘#f u Tywin’ or a ‘#Gregor and Lorch belong in hell’ in the tags, but these posts never fail to include a ‘#Rhaegar (insert vague threat here)’

This kind of stuff is so genuinely insane to me because we still do not know what Rhaegar was doing nor do we know what his plans were. We do not have his POV to know his thoughts, which means we know very little about him, but I do know that he did not kill Elia or his children. I do know that he did not order anyone to kill his family. I do know that he never sacked Kings Landing. I do know that he died before these murders and the sacking even took place. I do know that it was Aerys who prevented Elia and her children from fleeing Kings Landing. And I do know that he didn’t look at his children’s dead bodies and call them dragonspawn.

Rhaegar gets more heat than Elia and her children’s actual killers and their captor. In my opinion, that is insanity.

Because if people actually cared about Elia and her children, then there would be way more heat for Tywin and Aerys, for Gregor and Lorch. But instead, I see posts like this all the time in both Rhaegar’s tag and the main tags, and yet these posts never mention anything about the character who ordered the deaths of Elia and her children. I see nothing about the character who raped her and brutally killed her and her son. There is nothing about the character who dragged a little girl out from under her father’s bed and murdered her in a horrific manner. And the fact that there is heat for Rhaegar instead of Aerys and Robert tells me everything I need to know and leads to me not taking posts like this seriously.

cause wth

[kraehenkunst]

☀️Elia Martell☀️

-> get the print

[kaellecappuccino]

[ophelias-lamentation]

Elia and Pia, beheading the Mountain in a recreation of Judith slaying Holofernes

I will render it later

[sare11aa11eras]

Okay to further the argument: Ser Robert Strong/Gregor Clegane is both the worst Kingsguard and the pinnacle of the Kingsguard. He’s assaulted a Princess and murdered three members of the Royal Family (let’s leave aside the fact that the current Royal Family is not the same). He’s a serial killer. He is presented in Book One as the fundamental deconstructed truth of knighthood, the reason why the Hound exists and why Sandor can never be a knight. Gregor is the embodiment of the Lannister army in book 2. But then at the same time, he is the Kingsguard ideal— completely obedient, completely without thought, agency, interest, motivation, or qualm. Ser Gerold Hightower says that the Kingsguard are sworn to defend the king, not judge him. You know who will never judge the king? A brainless zombie. You know who can never object to a king’s order? A brainless zombie. You know who is really good at singlemindedly killing all physical threats?? A SEVEN FOOT TALL BRAINLESS ZOMBIE. Arys Oakheart almost got his charge killed because a hot girl told him to. Criston Cole started a civil war. Jaime Lannister killed the king to save the city. You know who’s not doing any of that? Robert Strong.

Visenya Targaryen had many legacies. Her son, Maegor the Cruel, bears a certain resemblance to Robert Strong, both being massive, strong, brutal, and cruel men with multiple wives, both probably the products of dark magic— which I find fitting because Robert Strong is the final essence of perhaps her most enduring legacy: the institution of the Kingsguard.

[knightsickness]

worst kingsguard ever is a perpetually competitive title but tbh i think it would have to go to the shambling reanimated corpse of a serial rapist that just got sworn in

[justagirlwholikesadam]

His Queen

Summary: I made this because of a tumblr post about Sandor being with Joffrey's wife and they get together and he's soft with her and she has his baby. I don't recall the name of the post but I wrote something like that but with my own twist. Enjoy.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were visiting King's Landing when Sandor met you. At first he thought nothing of it, many highborns came to visit King's Landing all the time. He followed you and Joffrey around since he was Joffrey's guard. Sandor wouldn't forget the day when you came to King's Landing. You wore a gown showing your curves, hair was brushed and braided. He kept staring at the yellow ribbon you had tied around your hair as he followed behind.  Sandor knew you were different from the rest who visited King's Landing. You were sweet to everyone, to the servants and to the people. He had even caught you visiting the orphanage and to the sept. 

Sandor had seen women throw themselves to the blonde king but for the first time Joffrey was throwing himself at you. Few days later, King Joffrey asked for your hand in marriage. His mother was overjoyed that her son was marrying you, the princess of a wealthy king from beyond west of Westeros. Sandor wondered if everyone from west of Westeros was nice like you. 

You gave everyone a smile, even to him. Sandor couldn't help but stare at you when Joffrey introduced you to him. 

 "He's my dog." Joffrey told you. Sandor saw your pretty face frown as you tilted your head to the side. 

 "What?" You asked, looking between Joffrey and Sandor. 

 "My princess, he's my dog. Sandor Clegane. My loyal dog." Joffrey said with a chuckle. You didn't chuckle or even laugh. 

  Joffrey was about to say something when Mery Trant came and asked for a moment with him. The king excused himself and walked away leaving Sandor with you alone. 

 Sandor watched as you looked over your shoulder at Joffrey then looked back at him with a smile. 

 "I do hope you'll be loyal to me as well, Sandor." You said, making him nod. 

 "Aye, you are to be my queen and I'll be your loyal dog." He told you emphasizing the word, dog just like Joffrey did. 

 "You know." You told him as you walked closer to him, looking up at him as you held your hands in front of you. 

 "I adore dogs but you, Sandor Clegane, aren't one." Sandor looked away from your gaze and stared down at the cobblestone. You looked at him with no fear or disgust. He didn't know how to feel about it. 

 "Shall we?" He heard Joffrey ask when he came back. Sandor looked ahead when you walked away leaving him behind. He saw you and Joffrey sharing a laugh as he offered you his arm to hold on. 

 It wasn't long before the wedding was held. It was the biggest wedding ever held in Westeros since the people of King's Landing liked their soon to be queen. Sandor had to admit you were a people person. You actually helped the people in your time in King's Landing. You reminded him of Margaery Tyrell, he hoped you didn't end up like her though. The girl was Joffrey's first wife but was poisoned on the day of their wedding feast. 

 They never found out who did it. It was a mystery to most, not to him though. Sandor knew who did it. Margaery got into Cersei, Joffrey's mother's bad side. 

 A month after the wedding, Joffrey had to leave King's Landing to deal with another house that required his presence. You had asked Joffrey to leave Sandor with you. You had batted your eyelashes at him and gave him a kiss when he accepted. 

 "Well, if my queen asks for the dog then so be it." Joffrey said. 

 Sandor was in disbelief when Joffrey had told him to stay behind and look after you. 

 "Keep a close eye on the queen, dog. I don't want anyone near her while I'm gone." Joffrey told him before leaving King's Landing. Sandor walked back inside the castle and was told you were in your room getting ready for supper. 

 Sandor made his way to your chambers. He can hear light chattering from the outside. He looked inside and saw you were standing in the middle of the room as your handmaidens surrounded you. You held your arms out as they did the last finishing touches of your dress and put on your accessories. With one hand you held a scroll, reading it silently as one of them slid the golden rings on your fingers on the other hand. 

 He didn't say anything, he didn't have to because you felt him staring. You looked towards the doorway and gave him a smile. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the sight of you smiling at him. It was a genuine smile you gave him, it had to be because no one ever smiled at him. 

 "I'll be having supper in the gardens today. Set a plate for Sandor. He'll be joining me." You told one of your maids as you walked away to put the scroll down. 

 "Leave us." You commanded the rest, Sandor moved out of the doorway for the flock of women leaving your chambers. He ignored the looks that the women gave him as they left him alone with you. 

 "Come in and shut the door." You told Sandor. He obeyed and walked inside, shutting the door behind him. He watched as you opened the door of the balcony. For the first time the smell of shit was gone and fresh air came breezing in the room. It was one of the things you got rid of, the waste. 

 "Joffrey was nicely enough to give you to me during his absence." You said walking to the small table of beverages. You grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured it into a goblet. 

 "Aye. I'm here to protect you. To look after you." He told you as you walked towards him with two goblets of wine. You passed him one. 

 "Why?" He asked, looking down at you. He wanted to know why Joffrey left him to care for you. He was Joffrey’s guard not yours. 

 "What do you mean? Why?" You asked, taking a sip of the wine. 

 When Sandor didn't respond, you gently pushed the goblet towards his mouth. "Drink." You told him and he did, he wasn't going to say no to fancy wine. 

 Later that day, Sandor sat across from you during supper. He had to admit, supper was good. You had told the cook to make chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables. Bread was served along with different types of cheeses. Sandor ate his chicken as you ate different types of berries with cheese. Light conversations were made and while the wine was kept serving to him and you. Sandor was in a good mood. He even made a few jokes, earning a few hearty laughs from you. 

 "Was supper to your liking?" You asked Sandor. After supper, he was escorting you back to your chambers. You walked next to him instead of in front of him, Sandor had noticed it a while back. You never walked in front of him whenever he was with you alone. You liked being next to him. You had even grabbed onto his arm while walking at one point.  

 "Aye, never thought I would eat with the queen." Sandor said, making you chuckle. 

 "We should make it a regular thing when Joffrey isn't here." You told as you side-eye him. 

 "When he comes back, he will have you all to himself. I'll be sad because we won't spend time together." Sandor stops in mid step at your words. You had stopped as well when you noticed Sandor wasn't walking next to you. You turned around to see him staring at you. 

 "It's true. I only see my husband during the morning then when eating then late at night when he is done torturing his whores." Sandor felt his mouth go dry.  

 "I know about it." He let out a deep breath. "I'm not stupid, Sandor." He knows that now, you aren't dumb as Joffrey likes to think. 

 You walked closer to Sandor, you were so close to him that he could smell the light scent of lavender soap still lingering on your skin. He could see every beauty mark on your face, every eyelash around your pretty eyes.

 "Honestly, I don't give a shit. He can do whatever he wants. Joffrey has never hurt me like the whores but his words can be cruel." You told him as you looked at his white cloak hanging behind his back. 

 You saw the blood and dirt stains on the cloak, you reached forward to grab it. Feeling the fabric and the dried blood on it. You remember his words when he told you why he hadn't taken the knight's vows during supper. 

 "Be glad it's just words, my queen." Sandor told you softly. 

 Sandor knew what you meant. He never saw Joffrey lay a hand on you but he did hurt you with words. He would call you stupid for loving the ungrateful people of King's Landing. Joffrey would undermine you and intimidate you. Sandor can only imagine how Joffrey acts towards you when he wasn't there. 

 "Words can hurt, Sandor." You told him as you let go of his cloak and touched his chest, your fingers tracing the chest plate of his armor. 

 "Aye." Sandor agreed with you with a small nod. He knows all too well of it. He has grown immune to the cruel words said to him. Words like monster, ugly, evil, and dog. 

 "If I ask you something. Will you do it for me?" You asked him as you removed your hand from his chest. 

 "Anything." Sandor responded. "You won't tell anyone?" 

 "Not a soul." He said. 

 "Come to my chambers tonight. Don't let anyone see you." You told him. You didn't wait for his response. You turned around and continued to walk. Sandor watched as you walked down the hall then entered into your chambers. 

 It was late at night when Sandor released the knight guarding the hallway.  Making sure the knight was out of his sight, Sandor walked towards your chambers. Sandor thought it was a joke when you told him to meet you at night. Perhaps you were waiting for him to come and laugh at his face. 

 He saw the door was slightly open, he slowly pushed the door open trying to not make a sound and looked inside. He saw you there, sitting on an armchair near the balcony. Candles were lit around you, providing you light as you held a book in your hand. Your hair was down and slightly wavy from the braid you wore earlier. His eyes widened at the red and golden robe you wore, it wasn't fully closed. He can see the valley between your breasts, that’s where a gold necklace laid. 

 He cleared his throat loudly making you look up from your book. 

 "You came." You said shutting the book. 

 "I did." Sandor said, walking inside and closing the door. 

 "The lock." You pointed up at the metal lock above the door. Sandor locked the door, giving it a pull to make sure it was properly locked and looked back at you. 

 "Do you read, Sandor?" You asked him as you placed the book next to you. He shook his head. 

 "Can you read?" Sandor nodded at you. "Aye, I spent a lot of time reading when I was younger." 

 "Why did you stop?" You asked. 

 "After I was burned I didn't want to go outside. So I just read to pass the time. As I got older I didn't give a shit anymore of what people would say about my appearance." Sandor said. 

 "Did you trip when you were young? How did it happen?" You asked as you got up from the couch. When Sandor didn't say anything you were about to walk towards him and ask for forgiveness when he spoke. 

 "My brother pushed me. I was playing with one of his toys. He thought I was stealing it but I was just playing with it. He got angry and held me down as he pushed my face against the fire." You stood still at his words. You clenched your hands in rage at his brother. 

 "It took three men to take him off of me." Sandor said softly while shaking his head as he remembered. 

 You have seen ser Gregor Clegane before and understood why he was called The Mountain. He was taller than Sandor. He frightens you especially with the stories you heard about him but Sandor didn't frighten you at all.

 You walked closer to him looking up to his face as you stood in front of him.

 There it was again, Sandor thought. You looked at him with no fear. He didn't understand the look you gave him. You had a look in your eyes that he had never seen before. 

 "What do you want, my queen?" Sandor asked. He wanted to know why you were being so nice to him and why you had taken such interest in him. 

 "I want you." Sandor's eyes widened at your answer. He was about to step back when you grabbed his hand. He looked down at your hands. Your hands were so different from his. Yours were small and smooth while his were large and covered with scars along with calluses. 

 "Is this some fucking joke?!" He hissed at you pulling his hand away. 

 "Why do you think it's a joke?" You asked him. 

 "Look at me!" He told you as his gaze at you darken. 

 "I'm a dog. A nobody." You frowned at his words. 

 "I want you, Sandor." You told him firmly trying to get a hold of his hand again. 

 Sandor shook his head and turned around to unlock the door but you stopped him. You quickly leaned against the door, pushing yourself in front of him. 

 "It's not a lie." When Sandor didn't say anything you continued to speak. 

 "Do you really think Joffrey wanted you to stayed? I asked him for you. I wanted you here, I wanted some time alone with you." 

 Sandor let out a deep breath. "Why do you think I asked you to come here tonight? I have been here for almost two months and I haven't met anyone like you before. Everyone sees you as a mean person and a killer but I don't. You are so much more." 

 "You don't know what you're talking about. You have been drinking too much wine." Sandor told you, trying to find any excuse to go away.

 "Really?!" You yelled at him. 

 "You know, I have learned that a certain person has been donating to the orphanage." Sandor looked away from you. 

 "They told me it was you." You said as you grabbed his arm.

 "No knights have this before. Sandor is good but misunderstood." You repeated the words that the elderly keeper told you on your last visit to the orphanage. 

 "A few pieces of silver means nothing." Sandor mumbled to you.  

 "It means something especially to those children that have nothing." You told him.

 Sandor didn't think anything of it. It is just a small amount that he donates. Sandor wasn't rich but he had money from being Joffrey's kingsguard. He didn't tell you that it was because of you that he donated. 

 He was there when you spoke to Joffrey and to the council about the orphanage. You didn't give up your cause even when Joffrey laughed at the thought of helping them but his council sided with you after your speech of helping them and giving them resources. 

 "Those children can grow up being something bigger. They can be knights, servants, blacksmiths, farmers and maesters." Sandor watched as you smiled when the council decided something will be done. 

 "I want you. The question is, do you want me as I want you?" Sandor finally looked at you. 

 He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life a woman wanted him but you weren't just any woman, you were the queen.  

 "Do you find me pretty?" You asked Sandor as dread filled your stomach perhaps he didn't find you attractive. He quickly nodded his head. 

 "Beautiful." Sandor told you as you grabbed his hand.

 "I think of your hands at night." You told Sandor, bringing his large hand up to your face. 

 "When I'm with him, all I think about is you." Sandor moved his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. 

 "Do you want me as I want you?" You asked him again. 

 "Only a fool will say no to you, my queen." Sandor responded. 

 "Call me Y/n." You told him as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You have been wondering for so long how his hands and mouth would feel on you. 

 "Y/n." He whispered your name. You pushed against him as you looked up at him. You smiled at him, it seems unreal. He was the first person in this kingdom to say your name. 

 "Kiss me." You told him. 

 Sandor leaned down to kiss you. He kissed with caution at first pressing his lips against yours. You wanted more, you pulled him down to wrap your arms around his neck to get him closer to you. He kissed you again and you whined when he held on to your hips, his large hands gripping the robe you wore tight as you opened your mouth to him. You teased his tongue with yours, feeling giddy inside when you heard him whine in your mouth. You pulled away from his lips giving him a smile. 

 "I have been wanting to do that for a while." You whispered to him. 

 "You're crazy for wanting me." He told you, shaking his head. 

 "Aye, absolutely crazy for you." You grinned at him, making him laugh out of disbelief. 

 You looked down at your robe, you slowly untied the belt from your robe. Sandor held his breath as you took your robe off. 

 You stood in front of him naked. "Join me in bed." You told him, leaving him by the door. He looked over his shoulder as he saw you walking to the large bed. He stared at your bare ass and bare legs. He quickly followed you as he started to remove his armor. 

 Sandor has had sex before, he was no virgin. He always paid for a fuck. It was always for his pleasure only not really caring for the other but now he was feeling nervous, he wanted to make you feel good. 

 Sandor knew he was a big man with a big body. Sometimes the whores will be too anxious to be with him. He was nervous that you would reject him once you saw him naked. 

 Unknown to Sandor, you were practically salivating at the sight of his bare chest and arms. Sandor was toned and his upper body was covered with thick dark hairs. His shoulders were broad. His arms flexed when he threw his tunic over his shoulder as he walked towards the bed. 

 As he got closer to you, you touched his chest. He was warm and his chest hair was soft. You can feel the scars on his chest and stomach.  You felt him tense up when you touched his stomach. Playing with the hair of his happy trail for a moment before your hands continue going down. 

 "You're so big." You told him as you felt him through his trousers. Sandor stared down at you as you cupped his cock.

 "Come here." He said before picking you up and dropping you on the bed. He pushed his pants off while getting on top of you. His lips attacked your neck, you let out a giggle as his beard tickled you. 

 "Sandor." You cried out as he kissed down to your chest. His large hand cupped your left breast squeezing it, his thumb rubbing your tit as he suckled on the right. 

 You spread your legs wider for his frame, Sandor was huge and you loved it. He hovered over you as he fondled your breasts. He gives a big lick on your hard nipple before looking at you. 

 You brought your hand to his face, tucking a strand of his brown hair over his ear. 

 "Let me taste this cunt?." He asks you as he brings his hand to your cunt. You nodded at him as his middle finger drags up and down your slit. He hums to himself when he notices you're wet dripping on sheets of the bed. 

 "Please." You cry to him when his finger hits your clit. Sandor was quick as he got further down to face your cunt.

 You smell so good to him. His tongue licks on your slit as his nose rubs against your clit. He parts your puffy lips so he can tongue your sloppy hole. 

 "Sandor! Fuck!" You cry out as he eats you out then start to finger you while sucking your clit. 

 "Fucking tight." Sandor tells you as he looks at you. You were watching him as he played with your cunt. Two thick fingers rubbing the spongy spot inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit. No one has ever made you feel this way before.

 "He made you cum before?" You shook his head when you let out a moan when Sandor started to finger you quicker and faster. Joffrey hasn't even come close to it. He grins to himself when he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers. 

 He thinks he'll cum as well just by looking at your pretty cunt and the sound of your moans as you came on his fingers. He plays with your cunt softly knowing you're sensitive from your orgasm. He pulls his two fingers out of you, they are wet and coated with your cum, he greedily sucks them. Savoring your cum, it's better than ale, he tells himself. 

 "I'll make you cum again, Y/n. I'm gonna ruin you if I fuck you." He tells you, leaning down to kiss your mound. 

 "Ruin me." You beg him as you look at him. He gives your cunt another kiss before kissing your stomach then your chest again as he positions himself between your legs. 

 Sandor can't help himself but drag his cock against your wet slit. You moaned at the sight of his cock in his hand. His cock was thick, his head was red and fat. You watched as he softly nudged your lips apart with the head of his cock. The head of his cock gathers your wetness so he can slide into you with ease.

 He glances at you for a second looking for consent to continue. You nodded at him. You couldn't help but whine as he slid into you. You felt so full, Sandor can feel you clench around him.

 "Fuck me." You beg him. 

 Sandor moans as he slams into you. His arms shook as he gripped the edge of the bed holding himself up. His thrusts was rough, he kept staring as you threw your head back to moan. Your tits bouncing with every thrusts. 

 "Fuck." He groans out loud. Sandor felt his chest tighten at the sight of you. He can smell your cunt on his beard making him grunt like a wild man.

 He lets out a moan as he looks down between both of you. Cunt spread open on his cock, you were mewling as he pushed deeper into you. Sandor felt your hands on his shoulders, pulling him to get close to you. Sandor feels your breasts against his chest as he cages your head with his arms. 

 He calls you his pretty lady, his pretty queen as he fucks you. The slick sound of his fat cock dragging out and inside of your wet cunt can be heard.  You cried when you felt his lips on your cheek pressing wet kisses all the way down your neck as you held him. 

 "I'm going to cum, Y/n." Sandor whines to you as he was about to get up to cum outside of you but you held him closer. You wanted him to cum inside of you, deep inside of you. 

 "Cum in me. Please Sandor." You whispered to him. He let out a moan, he hides his face against your neck as he starts to fuck you harder. His harsh thrusts made you cry out as you felt him go deeper, you can feel him in your stomach. Sandor had to bite down on his bottom lip as he felt you cum around his cock. 

 Sandor grunted loudly as he cums inside of you. You welcomed him as he laid on you, enjoying the feeling of him on you, the warmth and the weight of his body. Your fingertips gliding up and down on his back. You felt him moan as he pushed himself up softly, looking down at you, he kissed him. Both of you knew at that moment, you wouldn't be able to stay away from each other. 

 Joffrey returned the following week, much to your dislike you couldn't speak to Sandor as much. You both knew the risks of someone finding out you were having an affair with him. That didn't stop both of you from giving each other looks and touches. 

 The only time you would have for each other was when occupying the library, the library was a large room in the basement of the castle. You spend your days there when you have finished with your duties. You usually were there reading while waiting for Sandor. He will come in an hour later after you. He was always looking out, making sure no one was around the library. He will get inside and quickly find you hiding in the back. Sweet and gentle kisses Sandor gave you every time, he was always gentle with you. His large hands cupped your face as he kissed you. Sandor will push you against the bookshelves and go down on his knees, he was always in need to taste you. You would moan when you feel him go under your gown, he puts a leg over his shoulder as he makes you cum on his tongue. 

 His low moans and whines can be heard when you are between his legs sucking his cock. He will groan when you start to gag on his cock while playing his balls. He can't help himself but cum inside your mouth, especially when he sees you staring up at him with doe eyes. Head bobbing up and down on his shaft, the golden crown on your head wouldn't even budge. 

 The small loveseat in the library would creak as you rode him. One of his hands held your hips while you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Sandor and you would finish wrapped around each other and when he finally allowed you to kiss his burned cheek. You didn't pry when you saw him tearing up whenever you kissed his scared cheek. You whispered to him about wanting him, loving him and thanking the new and old gods for having him in your life.

 It was a few months when a tournament on King Joffrey's name day was being held. You sat next to Joffrey as he drank his wine and shouted profanity at the players. You were starting to feel unwell. You have been so nauseous lately. You were getting worried. Some days you would wake up throwing up and the heat wasn't helping. The tournament was held on the eastern wall of the Red Keep, you ignored the smell of the ocean. You looked away as the knights fought a few feet away from you. You didn't notice Sandor staring at you as he stood near Joffrey. He saw you placing a hand over your mouth and started to shift in your seat. 

 He looked away when Joffrey called for him; it was his turn to fight. He grabbed his helmet and walked to the floor. He wasn't nervous, he has done this many times before. As he hits his opponent with his sword, he can see you in the background getting up from your seat. He let out a grunt as the opponent hit back but Sandor was much stronger and quicker. He defended himself and pushed his opponent off the ledge of the building. 

 Joffrey leaped out of his seat in joy as he ran to the ledge to see the other men on the ground. After calling Sandor a good dog, Joffrey claps. Everyone joined as Sandor took his helmet off, he looked over at you but you weren't there. You were gone along with your handmaidens. Sandor kept looking but saw his older brother's piercing black eyes staring at him with a frown. Sandor looked away and walked back to his post, next to the King. 

 It was later that Sandor found out why you were gone. You came back when the feast for Joffrey's name day started. Joffrey got up from his seat and cleared his throat. 

 "I have an announcement to make. It brings great joy to tell you. Your queen, my wife is pregnant. She has provided me with an heir!" 

 Sandor looked over at you but you just kept staring up at Joffrey with a smile; it was a fake smile. Sandor knew you were faking it since your eyes were dull. He watched as Cersei gave you a hug and congratulated you as well as her children, Myrcella and Tommen. 

 Sandor stood in the middle of the garden at night watching his surroundings. He saw a single candlelight lit from your balcony. That was a sign from you, to meet you in the gardens. 

 He heard light footsteps coming near him. He turned around when he heard it getting closer. He saw you wearing a black hooded cape. 

 "Sandor!" You cried out running to him. Sandor hugged you tight. 

 "I'm with child." You sobbed into his chest as he rubbed your back. 

 "It's alright. It's alright." He repeats gently, calming you down. 

 "The maesters said I'm about a month or so." You told him, looking up at him. 

 "Sandor, I have to tell you something." He frowned when you started to look around for a moment. 

 "When Joffrey returned to King's Landing.  He became violent." Sandor grabbed your hand.

 "In bed, he started to get angry when I wouldn't moan or move. He started to get aggressive. I was so scared." You whispered.  

 "I started putting a few drops of milk of the poppy in his drink before he would get to bed. Whenever he wanted to have sex, he couldn't perform. He would fall right to sleep before anything can happen." 

 "Has he been suspicious?" Sandor asked. You shook your head. 

 "I've been sleeping naked with him. I would take his clothes off as well." Sandor nodded, you have thought of everything. 

 "Are you mad at me?" You asked. 

 Sandor shook his head. "No but why didn't you tell me that fucking cunt was doing that?" 

 "You would have killed him." You told him. "Then they would kill you. I can't be without you. I can't raise our child without you." 

 Sandor hugged you tight, kissed your forehead and told you everything was going to be alright. He never thought he would have been a father, he honestly never wanted a child. Mostly because he never found a woman who wanted to be with him and have a family. 

 He was worried for you. He wouldn't always be there when Joffrey is with you. He hoped Joffrey wouldn't harm you since you're pregnant. 

 Pregnancy was something Sandor had never seen before first hand, he watched your body change completely and he loved it. He loved touching your swollen belly and breasts. He loved how sensitive you have gotten as well. Sandor thought you looked more beautiful. Your belly has grown so big during the months. Joffrey thought it was twins, the idea was rejected by the maesters. They told Joffrey they can only feel one baby, one very large baby. 

 You waddled everywhere you go. He wanted to carry you every time he saw you waddling around the castle. Whenever there was time to spend with you he would hold you, his large hands touching and rubbing your belly. His lips pressing against your bare shoulders. 

 "Sandor, if anything happens to me. Promise me you'll look after our child." 

 "What do you mean?" He asked you as he heard the tone of your voice change. 

 "If anything happens to me. Look after our child, teach them to be good. I know if Joffrey is in their life they would be cruel just like him" You told Sandor. You were between his legs, you back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

 "Teach them to survive in this wicked world." You looked over your shoulder at Sandor. 

 "Don't let our child be like the rest of them." You cried out to him, Sandor was quick to comfort you. 

 "They won't be like them. I promise." He told you, feeling a tightness in his chest. He wouldn't let them be like his brother or Joffrey. 

 It was morning when he heard from a servant that you started to give birth. Sandor followed Joffrey down the hallway. He froze when he heard your screams. 

 Cersei was sitting outside the door with Myrcella. The young girl was in tears as she heard you crying and screaming while giving birth. Myrcella wanted to be there for you, she had come to love you very dearly since you became queen. You had become like an older sister to the young girl. 

 "All this screaming and crying. When will it be over?" Joffrey asked, looking irritated.

 "Joffrey! She's giving birth. It can be hours, sometimes days." Cersei said. Joffrey rolled his eyes at her. 

 Sandor paled at the thought of you being in pain for so long.  

 "Ridiculous." Joffrey hiss then banged on the door. 

 Sandor walked closer to Joffrey when the door opened and the maester came out. Myrcella was the first to gasp at the sight of the maesters' bloody hands. 

 "How long?" Joffrey asked, ignoring the cries from inside or the maesters' blood stained hands. 

 Sandor looked inside the room. You were in a white gown, the gown was clung to your skin wet from your sweat. Two handmaidens were on either side of you, holding your hands as you pushed. He can hear encouraging words from the ladies. 

 Before the maesters could respond the handmaiden had called out to him to come inside. The door slammed shut before Joffrey could say anything else and your screams continued. A few minutes later your cries had stopped and a loud, strong cry was heard. 

 Leonidas Baratheon

 Sandor watched as his son slept in his arms. The three of you were in the library together, Sandor was sitting on the loveseat as he held his son. You sat right next to him. 

 "He's so long." Sandor commented as he continued to look at his son. 

 "Aye, the maesters were right. He's going to be tall." You said as you watched Sandor with a smile. He hasn't taken his eyes off of him, it was Sandor first time meeting his son. After healing and everyone coming to see Leonidas, the heir to the iron throne. You finally had a chance to see Sandor again. His sweet praises filled you as he kissed you, "I'm proud of you. A boy, a son." 

 "I wish he would have had your last name." You told Sandor making him look up at you. He shook his head and looked back at his son with a sad face. 

 "No, it's a good thing he doesn't. Being a Clegane comes with a reputation." Sandor told you. He froze when Leonidas stretched his arms and dozed off again. 

 "I wish you wouldn't think like that. I would love to have your last name." You told him looking down at your lap. 

 "Look at me." Sandor said softly. You look over at him. 

 "You really are crazy, you know that." Sandor said jokingly, making you smile. 

 "Absolutely." You told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

 Sandor would have loved that as well for you to have his last name but Sandor knew in this world, you don't always get what you want. He consider himself lucky. He felt lucky that you wanted him, to share a bed with him, to share a kiss with him. If this is all he could get from you. It's enough for him. 

 Leonidas grew up just as everyone expected him to be. You always were nervous whenever someone commented on his height or his hair. No one mentioned he wasn't blonde like his father. Everyone had said the child was an exact replica of Joffrey's father, Robert Baratheon who was tall and with dark hair. 

 Joffrey had his son's trained with the best knights when he was able to hold a sword. Joffrey had his son trained with the Clegane brothers. Leonidas asked his father to train with them and hunt with them. At a young age, Leonidas has felt at ease with the two most dangerous fighters in Westeros. It did raise concerns with the council and many people of King's Landing but as Leonidas grew, people in King's Landing saw him as a good prince unlike his father when he was younger. Leonidas was adored by the people and was always seen with his mother when visiting the orphanage. 

 Cersei was walking to her room when she passed by the training area being held in the courtyard, she stopped when she saw her grandson training. She got closer to see Leonidas, age 15 holding a sword. The teenager huffed as he blocked Gregor's heavy attack. She looked over at Sandor who watched them both attentively in the sidelines. He held a hand up to his mouth as he watched Leonidas dodging the attacks. His eyes were dark as Gregor was gaining the upper hand but Leonidas was quicker. 

 Cersei knew Leonidas couldn't be her real grandson. She always wondered where he got his looks and physique from. Cersei was about to leave when she saw movement from the second floor of the castle. She was surprised when she saw you. You were supposed to be bedridden since you were almost close to giving birth to your third child.

 Cersei can see your smile widen as you place a hand on your stomach and look down. Cersei followed your gaze and frowned when she saw you smiling at Sandor. 

 Sandor has sensed your presence from above. He smiled up at you before looking back at his son. He let out a chuckle when Leonidas had pushed the sword of Gregor's hand. 

 "Well done." Gregor said before picking up his sword from the ground with a huff. 

 Gregor looked over his shoulder to see Leonidas had run up to Sandor. Gregor watched as Sandor gave a pat on Leonidas' back while telling him he did a good job. He saw Leonidas smile widely at Sandor's words. Gregor knew Sandor's praise meant everything to the young prince. 

 Gregor knew Leonidas wasn't Joffrey's son because every time he looked at the young prince all he saw was his younger brother, Sandor. No one knew what Sandor looked like when he was a boy before his face was burned but Gregor knew. Same brown eyes and hair along with the same smile. 

 Joanna Baratheon, was the second child of Joffrey and Y/n. Every time the young princess looked at Gregor. He saw the face of his dead little sister. Joanna is still young to know about him and what kind of person Gregor truly is. While others didn't even look at Gregor straight in the eyes, Joanna would give him a big smile whenever she saw him. Sometimes would wave at him whenever he was passing. 

 Gregor often would watch Leonidas and Joanna when they spent time together in the garden, Joanna would collect flowers while Leonidas would have a book on his lap, gifted by his uncle, Tyrion. Joanna would make flower crowns just like her aunt Marcella had shown her. Gregor would watch them for a few minutes behind the pillars of the castle. His dark eyes looked between the prince and the princess. Someday Gregor's eyes would play tricks on him and their faces would morph. Leonidas's left side of his face would be burned, Gregor can still recall the smell of burnt flesh after all these years. Joanna's small face will be pale as the snow, her brown eyes would be bulging out of her skull. Her neck will be black and blue, her small hands would be clawing at her neck. He would have to shut his eyes for a moment then when he opened the faces of his siblings were gone. The happy faces of his niece and nephew were back. He would always leave when his eyes got watery and a dreaded feeling in his chest started to rise. 

 Gregor knows he's filled with evil and hate. His thirst for blood and chaos is known but he doesn't know why when he looks at the prince and princess some unknown force calms him down for a second and he's filled with something else. He doesn't know what this feeling is, it's not hate and while he figures out that feeling  he wouldn't tell a living soul that Sandor is the real father of Leonidas, Joanna and the babe growing inside of you. Gregor had already slit the throats of the people that were calling Leonidas and Joanna a bastard and their mother, you a whore in hushed whispers.

If you like to read more of His Queen, click below on the title to read.

His Queen: Nameday Chapter two ->

[starsofjewels]

The Yellow Wedding

(Gregor Clegane x Bride! Reader)

Yes, I know, and I pinky promise I'm ashamed that I'm a Greggie C simp. Yes, I know, he's like the only GOT character who is completely morally unforgiveable. Yes, I know, I have a problem, blame it on the lack of stability idfk.

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A/N: This pookie has been in my drafts since before I made this account, so it's kind of my baby. If you think Gregor Clegane is bad, just wait and see what else I have in store for y'all. Gods bless.

This is the beginning of a series I like to call- Who the f*ck is writing for that character? I did promise questionable- You get questionable.

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CONTENT: Canon compliant! Arranged/ forced marriage, language, non descriptive! Sex/ nudity, alcohol use/ drunkenness

(Is Greggie C his own content warning? Probably.)

Word count: 3.3k

It is not a match you would ever make for yourself. You would spend no time begging your father for such a marriage or pleading with your mother to make your father consent. No, this was your father’s decision alone. You do not know what Tywin Lannister has promised your father, but you assume something great; more men to fish the rivers or more materials to make the small Riverlands village your father controls less sparse. No matter what it is, he is convinced it is worth the price, and so you will marry Gregor Clegane, the Mountain.

Although you have spent your childhood in the Riverlands, you have heard of the monstrous man. Beastly tall, and stronger than any man alive. Even you, with your quiet, humble education are well-versed in his ferocity, of the sheer terror he inflicts upon even the strongest of men. Although you were no older than three or four at the time of Robert Baratheon’s rebellion, you know full well what the Mountain did to Rhaegar’s bride and their children; and the horses he can behead with a single swing of his great sword. And it makes you sick to believe that you will wed such a monster. 

Crying to your father does nothing, nor does wailing endlessly to your mother, or the septa whose focus is now on your sisters. You are a low noble, your father tells you, it is better than you deserve and more than you will ever get again. Your mother cannot speak to you, she sobs when she tries, and you know there are things not even your mother can tell you.

Your sisters squeal with excitement at the idea of travelling from the Riverlands, and you realise that although you have gone as far as Highgarden, your sisters have barely seen Acorn Hall. You do not ride with them, no, Lord Tywin provides you and your father with a separate carriage, decorated beautifully and accompanied by grey horses. Your father promises he will let you keep one after you are married, and even as a grown maiden, the thought of another horse excites you.

You realise unreasonably quickly that this wedding is a Lannister wedding. Although you are not marrying into the house of lions, the entire event is tainted with their presence. You will be married in Lannisport, in a dress paid for by Tywin Lannister and designed by his tailors. The food and the wine from his contacts, and the guests Lannister supporters. Your father is impressed, he tells you what is gold, and what is silver, and how lucky you are to be such a finely kept bride.

“Lannisport is beautiful this time of year,” Your father takes your hand in his as you begin to ride, as though that helps you, “You will enjoy it, I think- The sea air may calm you…”

You nod, uninterested, as you begin to move further away from your home. He sighs,

“You may not be pleased with this arrangement, Daughter, but Lord Tywin has given you a better wedding than any girl could wish for. The Mountain may not be a kind husband or a good husband, but you will be safe.”

“If he doesn’t eat me first…”

Your father hears you, despite how lowly you mumble. He looks at you, displeased, and says nothing.

The ride to Lannisport takes several days. Each time you stop your sisters marvel over something new, so easily impressed that a fallen tree sparks hours of conversation. They spend all of their time “helping” the stableboys with the horses and chasing after innkeepers’ cats. Part of you wishes you were young enough to join them, to run along with them and hide from the cooks, sneaking sweets from the kitchen.

Instead, you are sat down with your mother and your septa. The latter very gently explains what will happen to you when you are joined with Clegane in the eyes of the Gods when you become man and wife and things are suddenly expected of you; and you realise it is nothing you didn’t already know from listening to your father’s guards, or from far too much time with only yourself for company. It will hurt, she tells you, it always hurts; he will not be gentle, he will not care for you afterwards, and you wonder how a celibate sister would know such things.

The rush of Lannisport is not like anywhere else you have been on your travels; it is busier, much busier. You know from your studies there are hundreds of thousands of inhabitants in this city, and you wonder if all of them have come out to meet with you. They haven’t, of course, aside from a few young children who stare at the gold and silver carriages, and the servants employed to assist your family. Anyone around you is far too busy with their own life to care at all about what you do. 

Your sisters are taken off to see the sights the city beholds, the high walls, the ports, and the beaches, utterly distracted by lights and sand. You, as always, are not as lucky. The septa dresses you in a fine yellow dress, in such a shade you immediately recognise it as Clegane colours. She fixes your hair with thin, silver ribbons which suit your hair nearly perfectly, and leads you along the bright halls of your apartments.

You have no time to awe at the Lannisters’ exuberant wealth - You see the gold-lined portraits your father could never afford, the jewels left in glass bowls with no fear anyone may steal them. No, you are brought swiftly, and with no fuss, across the halls, until you reach what you assume to be a sitting room. She leaves you at the door, slamming it shut before you can register you have been thrown in.

The room is darker, the curtains are pulled, creating a dusky light which draws only unease from you. Wine is laid out for you, and a selection of fruit, and other trinkets you cannot make out in the dim light.

The creature at the other end of the room stirs, and you yelp. You expect it to be Gregor Clegane, and your hands reach for the doorknob, only to find it locked. The man stands, and he is far taller than you could imagine. Taller than any man in the Seven Kingdoms, or anywhere else, you think. He grumbles and moves closer to you with slow, deliberate movements, taunting you.

Once you see the scars poorly hidden by his thick, long hair, however, you realise it is, in fact, not your prospective husband. But his brother; the Hound, Sandor. 

You have heard every rumour about the Hound. Savagery matched only by his brother, a rage fuelled by a young Gregor plunging his brother’s face into a fire, over nothing more than a wooden knight, no matter what their father told those around them. He fears nothing: not Gods, not kings or the lions they surround themselves with. And soon, he will be your brother-by-law

He laughs. Deep, and rumbling, and you know he is laughing at you. The Hound takes a cup of wine for himself, drinking it entirely with one sip. He eyes you up, and down.

“You are… my betrothed’s brother?” 

You try to sound like a proper lady. The Hound laughs in your face.

“Your betrothed?” He mocks, setting the empty cup down and marching towards you. You see the burns on his face - Ugly, pink things, still not healed after endless years and more ointments than you could imagine. “This isn’t a fairytale, little lady. I’d be surprised if you survived the wedding night.”

“I-”

He does not let you speak,

“If his hands don’t kill you, girl, his cock will.”

Your eyes go wide as he utters the word - Something you’ve only heard out of drunken peasants, and not knights. He notices immediately.

“He’ll say far worse than cock, petal. I don’t know why Tywin Lannister is making you marry my brother, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He sighs, sitting himself back down,

“The only reason I’m here is to make sure you make it to the bed- It’d look bad on the family if he killed you before then - As if we could be worse.”

There is nothing you can say to make the situation better or, for that matter, any worse. Sandor looks at you properly, and he realises how young you are.

“How old are you, girl?”

“I’m… nine and ten, Ser.”

He softens, somewhat. His scars seem less frightening when his face is not a scowl.

“Young-” He says, quietly, “young, little thing. By the Gods, his last ones have all been older.” His voice drops, but you hear him. “He might spare you…”

He fills the brief silence that follows.

“You’ve never had a man, have you?”

“No, Ser.”

“Ser. I am no Ser, lamb.”

You stare up at him, almost confused. You were certain he was a knight- Any king would jump at their chance to knight a man like Sandor.

“I refused. Ever since Rhaegar Targaryen knighted your betrothed. If a brute like the Mountain can be made a knight, I refuse.”

“That… I suppose that… makes sense.”

He sighs, reaching out to you and taking your hand, gently.

“If you do what he says, you might be fine. Don’t anger him, petal. Don’t ever anger him. Not even the Gods will save you.”

With that, he leaves you alone in the dim sitting room, until the septa returns and helps you back to your chambers. She asks basic questions, which sound as though she’s written them in advance.

For the next three days, you are primped and prepared like a fine ham, rather than a beautiful bride. Women engulf you nearly every moment of the day, bathing you in hot water filled with roses, scrubbing you raw.

You are taught the wedding procession, how the septon will join you together under the Seven, and what will be expected of you in the early stages of your marriage.

Upon the morning of your wedding, you are awoken to find your wedding dress already waiting for you; white and delicate, an apparent symbolism of your purity. Despite never having bedded a man, you wonder how pure you truly are. Of course, you look like the freshest, whitest snow in comparison to Gregor. 

Once you are dressed, and the ladies have swooned over how beautiful you look, you sit with the septa, awaiting the Mountain’s guests to complete their prayers, so you may be brought in.

There are private prayers for you, the septa blesses you and prays for a hopeful marriage. She sits with you and offers you wine. 

“Do you truly think this marriage is a good match?”

She sighs, taking a place beside you.

“Gregor Clegane is indeed a dangerous man, but all men can be tempted by the kisses of their lover, and enough delicate touches.”

Your eyes widen and you look at her, shocked. She smiles at you.

“Do you really think I wouldn't know of the ways of men, sweet girl? They are all the same, these brutish, knight types.”

For a moment, the septa becomes almost like a best friend, she laughs with you in a way you have never seen before.

“If I am still alive when you have daughters,” she says, “I shall serve them. And I shall pray every night they are as wonderful as you, sweet one.” She looks at you, “write me. Tell me you are safe, yes?”

“Yes. I promise you.”

Your father calls for you shortly after, you see his eyes widen as you emerge from your bedroom in that fine, white dress. You are walked rather unceremoniously to the castle’s great hall. There are decorations everywhere, flowers of white and yellow, blue and red. A true, rather fantastical, combination of your house being joined with the Cleganes and the Lannisters overseeing your union. 

Your septa waits for you by the doors and sets a crown of flowers upon your head; a bronze headdress, with flowers twisted into the metal. A small, inconsequential tradition of your house. An attempt to make you feel as though you haven't been entirely abandoned by them.

As you walk to the aisle, you recognise almost none of the guests. You see Sandor first, sitting right at the back of the hall. You can tell he is already drunk, and he refuses to look at you.   

Although you are not married in a sept, you are still joined by a holy man- You assume the septon is someone of reasonable importance within Lannisport, whose loyalty to the house of lions overpowers his devotion to the faith. Or, perhaps more likely, this septon has refused to marry a monster such as your groom in a place of worship.

You see the Mountain from a distance and, somehow, this man is far, far taller than his brother. You would expect such a man to be wed in his chain mail, or the heavy black armour you have heard so much about. Instead, he wears a tunic in such a yellow you immediately recognise it as Clegane colours, even from a distance. Although this is your first meeting, you notice how out of place he looks without his armour. 

The wedding procession is long and quite boring, and you understand why your sisters have each been given a new doll to entertain themselves with. They smile and wave and giggle as you eventually pass them, delighted to see you dress so wonderfully. Your mother shushes them, her eyes so red you can tell she has spent hours sobbing over this marriage.

The Mountain reaches out for you, and your hands grasp his own large paws, enclosed in black leather gloves. He makes no effort to speak to you, or smile at you, or do anything to comfort your terrified self, but you see him look you up and down and smile with desire. At least he is pleased with you.

His cloak is far heavier than you would expect it to be. Thick, black fur, which weighs you down to the point you are unsure how you can stand properly. It must be bear, you think, or something equally ferocious. He lets you take his arm to support yourself, as he pledges to protect you; and you wonder how long said protection will last.

One of those large, gloved hands takes your chin, lifting your face up to look at him. His hand is the size of your head, perhaps bigger. The Mountain is so large, he grasps you by the waist and pulls you up to reach his head. He carries you like you are nothing, cradling you with the same ease one would a cushion. 

You are announced as man, and as wife, and he kisses you with the ferocity expected of such a man. It is not loving nor fond, but it is certainly passionate. He refuses to let you go, holding you tightly and walking with you, like a child.

The celebration is far greater than anything you could imagine. The Lannister dignity and refinement thrown violently aside for drink and dance. You are placed at the head of the feast table, beside your monstrous husband. You watch him eat, and drink enough to kill any lesser man. You cannot eat, despite the cakes and pastries, and all of the things you would gladly finish off on any other occasion. 

You look at Gregor, and you sip your wine graciously, fearful of spilling something down yourself.

He catches your glance, and looks down at your barely touched plate. You anticipate anything but your husband lifting your spoon, and putting it to your mouth like a baby. Half out of fear, and half out of curiosity, you accept the spoonful of broth. It is too hot and not particularly flavoursome, not that you complain. Gregor smiles, looking you up and down once again, and he speaks. For the first time.

“You’re pretty.”

“Is that… good?”

He thinks for a moment,

“Aye, it’s good. You’ll make me good sons with those hips.”

You grow hot with embarrassment, unable to do anything but giggle slightly. He leans into you, out of your father’s earshot.

“Are you as delicious as you look, little thing?”

“I- Don’t know, my lord.”

He moves your hair to kiss the side of your neck. You can see this action garnering the attention of those around you,

“Mh, well- Just you wait, then, and we shall see.”

The rest of the evening is almost a blur, as you take more and more wine and honey mead. By nightfall you are flush with borderline drunkenness, and your equally-drunk husband could be a prince charming, for all you care.

He lifts you up to dance with you, too large for any form of regular dance. Your first dance as a couple is a spectacle to behold; and you cannot stop laughing the entire time. You cup his face in your hands, and you kiss him as though you do, truly love him, but you assume it is merely the alcohol in your system.

You mean to thank Lord Tywin, or whomever he has sent to oversee the wedding, or to visit your young sisters, brought out of the way of the wedding feast. There is not enough time, or sobriety, for you to do either. You are instead lifted from your chair and hauled off to Gregor’s chambers, for your new duties as his wife.

By the time he is finished with you, you can barely remember your own name. You do recall your septa’s warning of a man’s cruelty once his desires are fulfilled, and expect the worst.

Your husband rises from you, almost completely naked, and for a moment you think he will return to the festivities without his tunic. Gregor, however, returns to you with a cup of wine. You can barely drink it, giggling drunkenly as near half the wine dribbles down your bare chest.

Although you clean yourself, he holds you steady.

You spend the rest of the night in his bed, listening to the celebrations below eventually die down, as more guests retire. You sit up in thought, and he looks at you.

“No bedding ceremony?”

He snorts, pulling you closer.

“No. No other man gets to see-” His hands travel down your body, resting on your hips, “this.”

You groan, shivering despite the fire.

“Are you pleased, then?”

“Aye, aye. Pleased. I’ll be more pleased once you give me my sons.”

You whack his shoulder lightly. He does not even feel it, of course.

“Can we not enjoy our wedding night first?”

“Gods, you talk like a rich little cunt, woman.”

You splutter with laughter and he kisses your neck again, biting down on your shoulder just gently enough that it does not hurt.

“We can enjoy ourselves whilst you give me a son, love. That’s the fun of it.”

You sigh, resting a head on his bare shoulder.

“That was… quite fun…”

“Aye, it was.”

Eventually you shuffle down the bed, realising just how large it really was, to facilitate your husband’s massive form. It is warm, even if the sheets stick to your skin.

His arms wrap around you, and before you know it he is asleep, tucked into your shoulder. Gregor’s peacefulness seems odd, compared to the beastly Mountain you have heard stories of, and you wonder if he will, truly, treat you well.

You watch the fire for some time, until you too fall asleep. 

The festivities continue for a day and one more night, until the feast is truly over and you set off for your husband’s keep. 

You give the older of your sisters your crown of flowers and wave with the same enthusiasm they did on your wedding day as Gregor hands you his stallion’s bridle and wraps his arms around your hips. You leave Lannisport as the lady of the Mountain, and you wonder how he can be so pleasant to you, but so fearful on the battlefield. 

Not that you particularly care, not when you seem to have tamed the Mountain who Rides.

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

“Elia of Dorne,” they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss.”

Excerpt from: Tyrion X, A Storm of Swords, GRRM.

Actors : Ram Charan in Magadheera as Prince Oberyn, Alia Bhatt in Gangubai Kathiawadi as Elia

David and Goliath by Amiri Bennett

Martell Week Day 3 : Favorite Moment

[themotherofblood]

CHAPTER 3 | RIVER OF GOLD | The Journey | T.L x Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

tw: mentions of rape and murder

~ the wedding was charming, if a little gauche ~

"My new home— it doesn't feel much of a home. It is foreign, I am foreign. I see it in the way the attendants glance at me, mayhaps my wild hair. A mythical creature trapped in a fine gown made of crimson velvet and gold. The beaches however are beautiful, sometimes I take off my boots and stand at the shore; salt water cools my feet and just for a moment. I don't miss home."

The journey had been swift, the preparations made through the evening with rows of wheelhouses and bannermen on horses, a joy parade to have Tywin lead his young wife to his ancestral seat. Ravens were sent hours before the blazing afternoon sun, to have your chambers thoroughly prepared and unpacked with your belongings. It appears Lady Genna Lannister had taken personal initiative to gather a toehold of handmaidens and a personal secretary for your coffers.

Your sisters had been tearful, puffed-mouthed poppets clinging to your skits with their dolls in hand. Nyela had fixated a minute glare upon your husband as he conversed with his brother in the Great Hall. The household staff gathered to see off their darling lady and liege lord.

"You swore you would take us with you," Ellia whimpers,  "we supposed to visit Uncle Doran."

"We were supposed to," you correct, taking a piece of her loose behind her ear "I'm sorry darling." You engulfed her, the scent of lily soap so strong, it felt like engulfing your mother.

Nyela still clung to your back, small eyes—hooded and glaring at Tywin. When he turned to look at you, an amused frown settled upon his forehead as he looked to your hip.

"You're our sister, you stay with us." She grumbles, if her tiny ineffective fists could do anything, she wished she could drag you to your chambers and lock you in.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn, they will come get you. Alright?" You crouched to meet their eyes, holding on one shoulder each.

Ellia, still pouting, buried her head in your shoulder, nuzzling the motherly warmth she often tried to find in your arms. Your brother walked over, having taken your brother from his nursemaid's arms and walked over to you. The boy, barely over two summers, had not a clue of why his siblings lamented for you. A stranger yesterday and now a stranger today, you held his little fist. Tracing over his face, the feathery touch of your fingers tickling at his skin making him giggle.

"I'd be a stranger to you the next we meet," you cooed as his tiny fist curled around your finger, babbling away at your hair sat by your chest. "You be good."

Your brother Olvyar turned to you next, a brotherly smile curling in his lips and eyes covered in guilt. You knew he felt terrible for stopping you from running, but in truth he was saving you from the cruel wrath of your father's pride—you were not his pride, even with his flesh and blood, you never would be. The one hard bone your father swallowed, even though Olvyar was his brother's seed sired by your mother. He was a son, a young man knighted and proud.

Olvyar for the longest time wanted nothing to do with your father's estate nor Westerlands politics, if he could. He too would have abandoned your father for adventure at sea with Oberyn, however seeing as though the only mere morsel of affection within Loren Maerilys was for him, you'd told him. Standing on your toes and pinching your older brother's teen puffy cheeks.

"You take care of us, you would be the lord of Deep Den." You hissed at him, hoping your brother would see reason beyond his boyish dreams

When you looked into his eyes, your own was looking back at you, just far more grief-stricken as yours were glossy. You opened your mouth, your form of a farewell was to be another lecture to your elder brother. He however chased your word back into your mouth as he opened his.

"I will look after them, and write to you at every turn of the moon." He reiterates, tilting his head just so as he looks down at you. "I will take care of them, I will be the Lord of Deep Den."

You held his arm, sternly nodding at him before pulling him to a half embrace. Squeezing his larger body so tight he had to set little Loren down to reciprocate.

"Don't let them be afraid, Olvyar. Don't let them be alone." You whispered, closing your eyes tight to fight away the tears threatening to fall.

"Never."

"My lady... it is time," Tywin called, standing with his hands clasped in front of him with a coaxing quirk to his brow and a forever stern disposition.

You bowed your head, to use your brother's chest as a shield as you wiped the salted drops away from your lash line before straightening yourself.

Dressed in a comfortable gown, devoid of fastened corsets or itchy gold hems to travel with ease through the eight hours of journey to Clegane Keep and then after a respite another four hours to Casterly Rock—your new home.

You offered not one look to your father as you walked out of the Great Hall holding onto both your sister's hands on either end. Your brother following behind as you were ushered to your carriage, you gave Deep Den one more glance; a superstitious tendency as you called to Mother Rhoyne for protection before taking the footmen's hand as he helped you into the sizable carriage. Reined in by eight horses, the wheelhouse was rather extravagant for such a short journey.

You settled in for a moment, sighing and resting your head against the plush velvet padded walls inside the carriage, your new home— you were married.

Perhaps even your bedding had made it so anxiously apparent on your skin that you no longer belonged to yourself, but to the crimsons and golds of house Lannister, to Tywin—

He had been rather aloof to your presence since the bedding last night, having made you feel so warm, an exasperating pinnacle and making you squeak at the strum of his fingers. Your cheeks burned hot even as you felt the gentle cramp within your claimed environs.  Then this— your handmaiden Odiele found an odd form of compliment when Tywin's cupbearer had approached your lady's maids to inquire of your health.

You took that wholeheartedly as you had prepared yourself to break your fast, and then the waft of cold hit you. Not a word, not a word to you beyond formalities, it is at that moment your mind gave way to further past your bedding and to the ceremony feast. Your Daima Eldrã had told you, men often melt when their frigid minds crawl to their pillar. It was a deal, that was your marriage. You looked to your belly, wondering if a blonde child had already made a home there, waiting to spread within you and have you waddling about all fat and sweaty.

You were sure your mind had raced even harder than the dozen horses shifting in your riding party outside, however, the very man that clung to the crevices of your head peaked through the door of the wheelhouse. Pulling himself in and sitting opposite you, he glanced at you for a mere moment, the glint of questioning in your eyes that called to him. You thought he would ride with his brother. 

"You seem displeased?" Tywin raised his brow, appearing defensive, perhaps irked by your reaction.

"No- I thought you were to ride with Lord Kevan, my lord," you muttered, still finding it hard to meet the steel green of his eyes, the frown perpetually etched onto his forehead often left you dislodged for your firm disposition. He did scare you, you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing so.

"If that is what you wish, my lady." Tywin shuffled to the edge of his seat. His discontent was apparent, you had displeased him. He is your husband, he is trying, and you are trying.

"No- I, stay..." you stutter holding onto his arm "Please." You blurt out meekly.

He grunts for an answer, turning to the stained window as you shuffle closer to it, waving at your sisters clinging to Olvyar's side as the horses neigh, and the procession moves. The first carriages trot away from the moat bridge, and then your carriage moves. That unsettling dread fills your chest again, regressing you to a child of seven summers being sent as a ward to Dorne to your uncles. You gave up the olive greens of your house to the mustards of Martells and now you gave those up for the crimsons of house Lannister. Shedding skin after skin, no home would truly be yours, first the burden of your father then the responsibility of your uncles and now a child bearer for your husband.

Tywin should have travelled with Kevan, irked at his brother's attempts to find leisure in this match. Kevan had physically hauled his elder brother away from their carriage to yours. So here he sat, within the first hour of the ride. The carriage shielded both bodies from the chilled air outside but made the inside unbearably stifling with tension, you would meet his eyes, freeze and curl your lips to a tight smile before uncomfortably looking away.

A young thing so fierce he had thought, you cowered from within, a small sense of satisfaction within Tywin. Maybe you wouldn't try and strangle him to death at night, or stab him as he coupled with you. A Martell after all, a tinge of distrust was highly warranted of the Old Lion. What worried him even more was taking you to Clegane's Keep. A true test of your loyalty— what loyalty? It had only been two days since your wedding— he could picture a torn sneer over your face. Being made to present your dainty hand to the man who had raped and murdered your dear aunt and Targaryen cousins.

He watched as the rocking of the carriage lulled you to soft slumber, head resting against the cushioned wall. Hugging yourself with your neck cranked to find comfort, pouted mouth breathing puffs for lazed breaths. The terrain of the Gold Road was smooth with nary a bump, yet Tywin came to sit next to you. The uncomfortable crank in your neck ought to make it ache in the morning, your head finding itself on his shoulder as you slept, the thick cloak covering your body as you lift your legs next to you. Resting against your husband.

A tight jostle however startled you to consciousness, your adamant need to still remain ridden by sleep you peeked one eye open, taking a moment to gather your bearings, Tywin's hold on you tightened, making you aware that you were indeed resting against his body. An apologetic frown upon your brows as you made an attempt to shuffle to the other end, his hold remained firm.

"Sleep." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

You, by the Mother's grace, remained a bed for the remainder of the journey. A mellow call of your name is what broke you away from your clouded warm dreams of the sea.

The face of your handmaiden however above you as she sat with a cloak in her hands, you grumbled awake, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

The tenuous tugs of sleep still had you curled to the cushioned seat, grumbling as Syaria pulled you up, accustomed to your demands for more sleep she shifts to hold you straight. You scowl at her mothering, hissing as you felt the bitter tug of the hairbrush she ran through your mussed hair to neatly put into a braid.  She slipped the cloak over your shoulders, humming to herself as your body was finally in focus and properly awake.

"Lord Tywin?" You croaked, one last broken yawn breaking through you. Shrugging the gentle ache in your shoulders.

"Out with Lord Kevan." She mused, letting you a satisfied hum before shoving a branch of Meswak for you to chew on.

You had a faint memory of feeling warm, the heavy feel of arms upon you to find your husband's chin resting on your head as he lay awake. You shuffled out of the carriage, the other maids of your horde holding up a sheet of white cloth as you changed behind its security into more appropriate riding clothes. You sat on the foot of the carriage, shooing away the Westerlands maid as she bent down to lace your boots, you were perfectly capable of tying them yourself.

Once ready they pulled away the white curtain as you stood to your height, stretching your arms up in the air to yank at any odd knots within your skin, the carriage had swaddled you in for nearly seven hours from dusk to dawn. The Gold Road was painted orange with the peak of the morning sun, horses neighing away as people changed shifts, a moment of respite and preparations for your arrival at Clegane's Keep.

You walked back five paces, your lovely black mare Nysa sat with her hooves curled in, Eldrã lovingly feeding the sweet thing apples, spoiled girl—

"Might I interrupt for a ride?" You called, Eldrã turned to you smiling, she petted your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You rest alright, dæriya?" she asked, concerned but toying at a far greater subject as she with ease switched to her mother tongue of Rhyone. He was with you last night. sweet girl

"Quiet well, daīa." you hummed holding onto Nysa's reins as you pulled yourself onto her.

Fredrick already stood at the ready. If you were to bolt away from the procession, you pointed your head to the edge towards the clearing where you were sure your husband sat with his brother breaking fast.

"Sleep well, Serret?" you asked a spurt of happiness within you, having the people closest to you accompanying you through this new journey.

"Well enough, my lady." He smiled baring his thirty-one perfect teeth, one happened to be chipped.

"Race with me?" you smiled sheepishly, pointing at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think racing at your station is appropriate now." He pressed, he wouldn't deny you. He never could, he never would.

"And if I were to order you, use my station. Would you do it?" A cheeky grin spread through your face, head tilted and mischief coating your features after a moon.

"Then I shall have no choice but to obey, my lady."

"Then we race!"

Nysa took off with the speed of storm winds, your braids whooshing against the wind as you tore through the forest line, the sun already risen, the orange fading and clear blue skies up above. It felt like an exotic delicacy willed into your environs as the fresh air bathed your skin away from the lingering tensions from the night before. You stopped, right at the edge of the forest line. Turning back to find Fredrick five paces behind before he too halted next to you.

You giggle, poking your pink tongue out at him before turning to bask in the scenery, you finally let your thoughts flow as you tarry.

"How am I expected to raise my palm to a man that raped and murdered my aunt," you muse, that sullen heaviness in your heart wet again weighing you down.

"Do you want me to kill him?" He blurted, a jape in all honesty but a blade pierces a man all the same.

You chuckle, shaking your head— a fine prospect, a violent one but one that Oberyn had fantasised over multiple times, Gregor Clegane's head resting at his foot.  You wondered if you stared at his plate of food at lunch, you wondered if The Mountain might fear you of poisoning him. The entirety of your family sat shaking their heads on your shoulder.

You looked around, about a yard away sat your husband by a thoroughly filled table, a black tunic and vest of sable fur with his leg bent and resting over his other. Fine leather boots reaching up his knees, he was watching you from a distance. His arm shot in the air, finger bent to call you over to him.

You sighed, looking at Fredrick before turning Nysa as you trotted over, dreading the conversation you were soon to have.

"My lords." You bowed, barely meeting their eyes. Relishing the sudden warmth against your skin from the lit fire.

"My lady."

"Wife."

Lord Kevan rose from his seat, gesturing for you to replace yourself,  he passed a knowing nod to his brother before leaving.

"Are you cold?" Tywin asked, inspecting the gloves on your fingers and the fur lining of your coat.

"The weather hasn't agreed with just yet I'm afraid," you agree, smiling at him "The Dornish climate is a lot more forgiving." 

All you could do was rub your leather gloves palms together, speak to him, say anything dammit—

"I have employed a governess for you," Tywin began, setting his plate of food "all the way from Oldtown."

"What use would I have for a governess? Our children would have years before they needed one."

Tywin looked surprised for a moment like the mention of possible children tickled at his hoped.

"You were raised Dornish, it is for your own good."

You frowned, toying at the cusp of what he meant.

"What? Being devoid of good societal behaviours, do you think I am unladylike?"

Tywin's lips pressed into a hardline "You are expected to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, now I will not have mockery being made out of my lady wife and by extension me."

"And why do you suspect it is so? It is you who wanted a lady wife with more than half a brain, have your feet turned cold now my lord?" You appeared irked, pushing your weight against the chair you sat on, married for two days and your husband already believed you daft.

"Do you intend on letting Gregor greet you?"

Silence, an arrow right on the mark you stared at him through the lining of your scrunched eyebrows, that heaviness greeting itself once more.

"You will perform your duties, my lady, you wish not to be greeted. I will allow it. However, the matter of the governess is unchanged if you are to raise my sons."

"My lord, the Keep is ready for you." a foot soldier approached.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wishing you had a pendant vial of poison before stepping foot in that establishment. Tywin gave you a stern look once more before helping you into your horse.

The two of you rode to meet the procession, you very valiantly chose to ride in on Nysa, the niceties of lady ship so far behind your mind, and your husband shook his head as he rode in front of you.

The attendants of Clegane's Keep and the one monstrously large man stood amongst the crowd. People revered the blonde image of Tywin atop his white stallion. Their liege lord once in a moon had come to grace them.

Smile, you should smile but instead, your face seemed to have frozen itself to an unimpressed leer, eyeing Gregor with the malicious power of Mother Rhyone, drop dead— drop dead you sick bastard.

Footmens rushed to lay stools by the horse to make your unhorsing more graceful as you huffed off, patting Nysa as she gently neighed before walking to your husband.

The gruff voice of Gregor Clegane echoed, you were wishing a lance through his heart "Welcome to Clegane's Keep, my lord—" he bows his head before turning to you "My lady."

The anticipation burned up as Tywin watched you from his periphery, honour the fool that ruined your family, you lifted your hand and Tywin's chest deflated. A gloved hand turned and presented for the Mountain to bend and lay a kiss upon your palm. A gloved palm, you remained untouched.

"Clegane's Keep is yours."

Tywin turned to Kevan this time, his younger brother who appeared rather amused at your doings. He merely hoped that you would be introduced to Genna soon.

A gloved hand, a leather toy for a dog, deprives him of the honour of greeting you. You never said you'd let him.

Ahhhh first of all, I thank everyone for the support through this odd time of drama. I figured I’d best focus on my writing and thank everyone that reached out to me.

Secondly. I totally wanna make the reader poison Gregor Clegane, I’m just not sure if I wanna do it this early.

Taglist (thank youuuu💐)

@joker640 @wondergal2001

[thewatcher0nthewall]

The Mountain That Rides

[queen-helaenas-pet-spider]

Sandor: *Spends his whole life trying to prove that he's not as bad as his older brother, Gregor {who r*pes, kills, etc}*

Rorge: *Stole Sandor's identity by somehow getting his grubby paws on Sandor's famous Hound helmet, and wearing it during a r*ping and killing spree with friends*

Most "Fans": *Actually believe Sandor regrets not r*ping and killing Sansa Stark {who he loves most} before he fled King's Landing {he was dying and was saying whatever he could to get Arya Stark *Sansa's litle sister* to finally end his suffering, but she robbed him and left him for dead}*

Sandor:

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Thinking about Elia Martell as a deconstruction of the princess in the tower…but her tale being the very worst outcome of the classic trope. She’s a princess locked in a tower by an evil dragon (Aerys), unable to protect herself or her children. Her own uncle is a knight, a white knight in fact, yet he is too far away to help her. She could hope for rescue…and rescue does come. Well actually not really. Tywin storms the gates, Gregor storms the castle, and the knight who should’ve rescued the pretty princess is actually here to murder her. But not before he defiles her first.

[ophelias-lamentation]

Elia and Pia slaying The Mountian

[dr3adlady]

I can't believe I just realized this thing after 8 years 😭😂

Sandor, who was traumatized and set on a path of revenge and darkness by his 'elder brother', has a near death experience and almost dies, only to be reborn, with the help of 'Elder Brother', who finally shows him the care and consideration that he deserved but had never received from his ACTUAL elder brother.

New life, new elder brother, it seems :)

[justagirlwholikesadam]

His Queen

Summary: Leonidas is growing up and he finally realized the kind of man his so called father, Joffrey is.

Warning: Joffrey is a tag itself, child abuse, Gregor has a part of this story, Sandor trying his best, reader suffers. Sandor x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have risen from the dead, I'm so sorry for not posting lately. please be patience with me because I'm still updating more stories. Enjoy -L

Word Count: 5.5K

Chapter: Two

Leonidas was young in age when he found out how cruel Joffrey could be. He had a bad temper and a vile tongue. Leonidas witnessed Joffrey order Meryn Trant to kill an innocent man for his own amusement. The face of the innocent man plagued Leonidas’s mind. His screams for mercy and the sound of Meryn Trant’s sword slicing the man’s head off taunted him along with his father’s laughter.

The knight standing guard barged into his bed chamber when he heard the prince crying in his sleep. The young prince woke up in tears, Leonidas begged him to get you. A few minutes later, you arrived running. You held your son in your arms as he told you about Joffrey killing that man. After calming Leonidas, you tucked him in bed and sat next to him brushing his thick brown curls out of his face with your fingers. You decided to tell Leonidas what Sandor told you once. Leonidas was now, realizing what kind of man Joffrey was and you had to tell him how things worked. You wanted to wait for him until he was the right age but Leonidas was smart for his age, both of your children were.

“My sweet boy, the world is built by killers. You have to get used to looking at them.” You told him, his brown eyes widened at you.

“One day you will be one too.” You told him.

“What if I don’t want to be one? What if I don’t want to hurt people, mother?” Leonidas told you as he tried to get out of bed. You grew worried, he looked like he was about to cry again. You gently pushed him back down and grabbed his hands with yours.

“Leo.” You called him by his nickname gently. “When the day comes you will. You will kill to protect your family, to protect your loved ones and to protect your kingdom.”

A tear slipped from his eye. “I don’t want to be like him.”

“I don’t want to be like, father. He’s a killer. A monster.” You held his hands and looked back at the closed door of his chambers. You didn't want the knight by his door to listen to your son. Joffrey would punish anyone who spoke ill of him.

“You aren’t like him, my Leo. You never will be.” You told him firmly as you leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“When the day comes that you have to make a decision whether or not to take someone's life. Do it for the right reason.” Leonidas nodded at you, he kept silent when he saw the collar of your robe move as you stood up from his bed. He frowned at the black and blue bruised handprint on your neck.

It was then Leonidas began to see how things were. He noticed how his father acted, how his father ruled the kingdom with fear and with no compassion. He noticed the bruises on you and the way you tried to hide it from everyone. He noticed his grandmother, Cersei, was the same as his father. He was the age of 16 when he came to terms with his father’s cruelty. He finally understood the jokes that were aimed at his uncle, Tyrion. He understood why people were so afraid of Gregor and Sandor but Leonidas didn't mind Sandor, not after Sandor opened up to him about his burnt face.

It was the day he found out about the vile things Gregor had done when Joffrey blurted out his “accomplishments.” He asked Sandor about it. Leonidas didn't see the pained expression on Sandor's face when he told the prince everything and at the end he gave him a choice.

“Being a Clegane comes with a bad reputation, my prince. I understand if you want to stop our training.” Leonidas frowned at his words. Gregor wasn't training much with him since Gregor had his own keep and lands to maintain. Leonidas’ training with Sandor continued very much.

“No, Sandor.” Leonidas shook his head and stared up at him.

“Your brother’s violence and sins doesn't define you. I would very much like to keep training with you. You are nothing like Gregor.”

“My prince, you think too much of me. I have done things I'm not proud of.”

“I know you killed people.” Sandor becomes quiet.

“My father orders you to kill.” Leonidas added with a sharp tone. “I know if you disobey my father then he will behead you. I don't want to see that. I know my sister and mother wouldn’t want that as well.”

Sandor held his breath at the mention of Joanna and you. “Mother told me that the world was built by killers.”

Sandor nodded at him. “She said I will be a killer as well but when I kill, it needs to be for the right reason. To protect my loved one and the people of this kingdom.”

“I know if you had a choice. You wouldn’t kill just to kill but you would kill to protect. People find the Clegane's brothers terrifying but it’s just really one brother that they should fear.” Sandor let out a small smile at him.

Leonidas had your sense of kindness, Sandor had to admit. Same words you shared with him one night were the same words his own son was telling him now. Sandor and Leonidas continued to train and spend time together. Joffrey was thrilled at the fact that his son was bonding with Sandor. He thought that his son could be the exact replica of The Hound, one of the best fighters and killers of the seven kingdoms.

Very often Joanna and you would be the audience of his training. Sandor was happy that he spent time with his son. He was grateful for you being there along with Joanna. His daughter didn’t seem to mind Sandor. She had always tried to grab his hands and try to hold on his hair when she was just a babe. Leonidas thought it was always funny how his sister, who barely spent time with Sandor, was so excited when she was near him.

Whenever Sandor had the chance to hold his children, it would be hidden in the library. You would keep him updated on their life and their likes. Joanna had grown to sleep in Sandor’s arms and with this it created a bit of a problem because she couldn’t go to sleep, unless it was in the arms of The Hound. As a baby and a young child Joanna would smile at Sandor whenever Joffrey came to visit. Joffrey would think that she would be smiling at him but the truth was she was smiling at the man over Joffrey's shoulder, Sandor.

This treatment also applied to The Mountain, Gregor as well. The servants and the council wonder why the small and innocent princess would give the giant the time of day. Joanna would sit on your hip when you came to watch Leonidas training. She would blabbed while chewing on her fingers until she saw him. She would squeal and wave her hands at Gregor. You bite your tongue to hide the giggling bubbling in your chest. The most dangerous man in Westeros looked uneased. Nervous of a little girl greeting him. Joanna would just fuss and fuss until she got her way. You would greet Gregor and ask for forgiveness since you had disturbed the training. He shakes his head and greets you back with no issue.

Sandor would glare at his brother. His hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pounce in case his brother hurts Joanna or you.

Joanna grew to be a very poised young lady. She was spoiled endlessly by her grandfather, Tywin. Joffrey wasn’t there for the birth of Joanna. He had been away and during that time you had grown fond of Tywin since he was The Hand of the King. Tywin admitted to you one day during your usual walks throughout the castle. He had offered you his arm to hold on as you waddled with him. You were still pregnant with Joanna. It had been two weeks and Joffrey was still absent.

Asking for a break, both of you settled down on a chair and he had the servant bring you some water. While the servant walked away, Tywin expressed his great deal of affirmation for you. You had held up to be a wonderful queen. It was something he had wished his daughter had become when she was queen. You were well educated and had an idea of running a kingdom. Tywin, like most, knew how Joffrey ran the kingdom. You had proven your intelligence and loyalty to Joffrey. You had gotten far to sit with Tywin during court. Sometimes Tywin had asked you to fill in during courts and dealing with the people of King's Landing.

Tywin never admitted to you that he thought you would be just a breeding cow without a thought behind your pretty eyes but oh, how wrong he was. He saw so much of his wife in you. He had cried the day Joanna was born. You had granted permission for the servant to give the baby to him. Tywin's heart grew at the sight of the babe in his arms.

“Her name is Joanna.” Tywin gave you a nod of gratitude. You had given her the name of his late wife.

Sandor didn't mind whenever Leonidas stood for him when it came with highborns. Like him, Leonidas had his smart tongue. Sandor didn't think much of it until Leonidas received his first slap from his father when he stood up for him. Leonidas grew tired of his father belittling Sandor.

“His name is not Dog.” Leonidas told his father. Leonidas stood in the middle of the council room. Joffrey looked up from the table and started to laugh. He looked over at Sandor who was staring hard at Leonidas.

“I own him. He’s my dog. If I want him to bark he will. If I want him to kill he will. One day he will be your dog.” Joffrey told him as he stood up from his seat and walked towards Leonidas. Sandor grew anxious as he stared at the back of Joffrey’s head. Joffrey didn’t mind that Leonidas was now taller than him, he still gave his son a glare as he looked up at him.

“If I want to have my dog beat you up. He will because he’s my dog and my dog obeys me.” Joffrey said harshly. Sandor felt his eye twitch at Joffrey’s words. Millions of thoughts ran through Sandor’s head. What if Joffrey were to command him to hurt the prince? What would he do? He would die. He would die then hurt his own son.

“He deserves respect unlike you.” Leonidas answered him. Sandor flinched when Joffrey slapped Leonidas across the face.

“Be warned, boy. Next time I will have you punished for disrespecting me. I am the king.”

“Leave me be.” Joffrey yelled at Sandor before flinging the door open and stomping away.

Sandor shut the door and looked over at Leonidas. He walked towards him as Leonidas kept staring at the ground in shock by what just happened. His father had slapped him, it was the first time Joffrey had laid a hand on him. Leonidas was used to his father’s cruel words towards him but this was the first Leonidas had experienced this abuse. He wondered how you managed to deal with it.

“Look at me.” Sandor said as he cupped Leonidas’ face with his large hand. Sandor let out a sigh as he wiped the blood trailing down from Leonidas’ right nostril. His eyes were wide and filled with tears.

“Never do that again. Do you hear me?” Sandor yelled at him as he wiped the blood.

Sandor saw the expression on Leonidas’ face. Sandor dropped his hands and took a deep breath. His fingers ached to get his sword and slam it into Joffrey’s stomach for touching his son. Leonidas looked away from Sandor. Embarrassed that he tried to stand up for Sandor but at the end Sandor just yelled at him like his father did.

Sandor called out Leonidas' name but he didn’t respond. He kept looking at the ground. Sandor felt his heart drop when Leonidas flinched when Sandor tried to get closer to him.

“Look at me.” Sandor told him. Sandor bit the inside of his cheek as Leonidas looked up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Leonidas said softly. “Don’t be angry with me.” Sandor shook his head at Leonidas' plea, wiping his fallen tears with his thumbs.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you, Leo.” Sandor continued to wipe his tears.

Leonidas pitched his brows at the nickname. Joanna and you were the only ones who called him that. Sandor was always formal with him but he was glad that Sandor felt comfortable using it. Leonidas looked up at Sandor rather than his own father. He envisioned Sandor as the hero in all his stories. The underdog who saved the princess. Him and his sister had that in common. Both of them have seen Sandor act with their mother. They saw how gentle the guard of their father was with their mother. Opening doors and lending her his arm whenever she would sit down or stand up. Especially during their walks around the garden. Leonidas and Joanna would run and play in the garden while Sandor stood near you, keeping guard when Joffrey didn't need him. They smiled whenever they heard you laughing and talking with Sandor.

“No more standing up for me, you hear me? I’m an old man, being called a dog is nothing. I have been called at way worse things.”

Leonidas shook his head. “It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair. You need to understand that right now!” Sandor told him firmly. Sandor looked away from Leonidas' gaze. He looked at him like you did. Leonidas wasn’t afraid to look him straight in the eye.

“I know life isn’t fair.” Leonidas spoke as he walked away from Sandor.

“I know that because my mother, a woman who’s amazing and a good queen, has to suffer with a man like him.” Leonidas told Sandor as he opened the door then left before Sandor could say anything.

Leonidas kept his posture. He held his head up as he walked out of the room. The servants greeted him as he passed by. Leonidas made his way to your chambers. He had knocked and heard one of your servants grant permission to come inside. He saw you sitting up in bed with a cup of tea. He smiled at the sight of you balancing the cup on top of your swollen belly.

“Leo.” You called out to him with a smile as you waved your hand to come closer to you. The servant bowed when you told her to leave and shut the door behind her while Leonidas made his way to you. He sat next to you as you placed the cup by the night stand.

“How are you, my love?” You asked as you rubbed your belly, wincing as you shifted. Leonidas was sitting on the edge of the bed near you. He felt your hand on his arm as you rubbed your stomach with the other.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” He said, looking away from you. You gave him a smile at his sweet gesture.

“I’m doing well. I’m ready for the babe to get out.” You said eyeing Leonidas in front of you. He kept looking across the room instead of you.

“Look at me.” Leonidas didn’t have to be told twice. He did and you let out a small gasp.

“What happened?” You asked as you saw the right side of your son's cheek, it was red.

“Leonidas, tell me right now.” You ordered when he didn't speak up right away.

Sandor knew Joffrey was going to snap. He had walked with him to a council meeting that was being held without him. The blonde king was vivid at his grandfather, Tywin the hand of the king. Joffrey’s blue eyes widened when his grandfather had told him that he wasn’t needed and there was no need for his presence.

After his son told him, his guard demanded more respect than him and his grandfather told him he wasn’t needed. Joffrey’s anger kept bubbling.

“Any news on the Queen?” Joffrey frowned as Varys questioned Tywin. Sandor’s ears perked at the mention of your name.

“Bed ridden until the child is born.” Tywin had announced.

“People are growing anxious. We will have to delay the court date.” Varys said as he looked through the scrolls on the table.

“There will be no need for that. I will handle the people and their needs.” Joffrey said not even noticing the looks the council gave to each other.

“My king, the people in King's Landing would rather prefer the queen.” Tywin spoke out and held his gaze at his grandson who grew angry at this fact. Varys had shown Joffrey the scrolls of the amount of people asking for you.

“This is not up for discussion.” Tywin added when Joffrey started to make threats to the people who were asking for you. Joffrey was going to answer back when the door opened. Sandor frowned when he noticed you waddling inside as your ladies in waiting followed behind you with worried eyes.

“I need to speak to you alone.” Sandor didn’t miss the look of anger on your face.

Joffrey’s chuckle and shook his head. “This is not the time, woman. I’m busy.”

“Right fucking now.” You yelled loudly causing everyone to tense up since this was the first time you had raised your voice.

Joffrey said as he shook his head. “Whatever you have to say you can say in front of my council.”

Tywin watched as you looked over at the men of the group. The angry look on your face never left as you looked at them. Sandor watched as you sighed while placing a hand on your swollen belly.

“I am going to tell you this once. One time Joffrey.” Everyone stood quiet as you got closer to him.

“I tolerated the person you are. I looked away when you torture your whores. I looked away from your childish behavior and learn to deal with them. I have come to terms with your abuse when it came to me.” Sandor looked down at the ground when you spoke. He shut his eyes tightly when you mentioned the slaps, the names being called, the abuse Joffrey had made you endure. Sandor had cleaned the blood from your nose or cheek when Joffrey had wandering hands.

“But I will not tolerate you hitting my children.” The room was silent as you told Joffrey.

“You will not touch Leonidas. You will not touch Joanna and you will not touch this babe.”

The door opened again and they looked to see Leonidas and Joanna. Both of them were out of breath, like they just ran for miles. The room was getting filled when Joanna and Leonidas’ personal servants came rushing behind them.

Leonidas stood at the entrance as his brows knitted together when he saw his mother and father. Joanna held on his arm tight as she looked worried.

“You think you can tell me what to do -. ” Joffrey didn’t even finish his sentence. Tywin stood up as he saw Joanna was in tears and saw the slight bruise on Leonidas’ cheek. He had walked between Joffrey and you who were in a staring match.

“Everyone out.” Tywin announced as he walked towards Leonidas and Joanna.

“Clegane, walk them back to their room at once.” Sandor moved at once towards them.

“Wait, grandfather. If I can speak to my father.” “No.” Tywin said as he touched Leonidas cheek making him flinch.

“This will end now.” He looked over at Joanna who still held on to her older brother as she watched over at Joffrey who was whispering to you.

Tywin looked over Leonidas who kept staring at you, the fear in his eyes that something would happen. Sandor took a deep breath before walking to the children. The room was empty now.

“Come on.” He touched Leonidas’ shoulder. Tywin turned around when the door was shut.

The children were about to walk away as well as your ladies in waiting. Everyone had left except for them, the ladies had told them not to fret when they saw your children. They all looked towards Sandor who remained by the door. They can hear him breathing heavily as he stares at the door. One hand remained on top of his sword.

One of the servants calls out for The Hound but Sandor just ignores her. His shoulders rose up and down. This wasn't good, the children thought. Joanna and Leonidas looked at each other. Joanna steps forward ignoring the warning from the servant and grabs a hold of Sandor’s free hand. Sandor snaps back into reality. He looked down at Joanna, her brown eyes wide as she stared up at him.

“Grandfather won't hurt mother.” She tells him and Sandor doesn't know what to say, he just nods.

He knew Tywin wouldn't hurt you but it was Joffrey that he was nervous of. Sandor swallowed that fear, it hurt. He was ashamed that he couldn't do more, he couldn't do more for you and the children. He felt less of a man every time he saw a bruise on your body and now the sight of his son’s cheek made him feel ill. Joanna held Sandor’s hand and pulled him away from the door. She didn't let go, Sandor didn't as well. His hand dwarf hers and the servants had a small smile on their faces as they watched them walking with Sandor on either side.

Tywin wished he had done more to help you. Joffrey had agreed to not touch the children. He had swore to it in front of you and Tywin but that meant you weren't safe.

Sandor sat with you in the love seat of the library while you told him what happened after he left. Sweet kisses he gave you, when you began to cry. You didn't cry for your own but for your children. Sandor cried for you as he rubbed your belly. His unborn child in your belly kicked him and in the middle of it. Sandor told you what happened as well with Leonidas. A sad smile appeared on your face, you were proud of him.

Sandor left first, he gave you a kiss before leaning his forehead against yours. He promised to look out for the children but you must promise him to stay in bed until the babe is born. He rubbed your belly before wishing you a good night. You waved at Sandor as he shut the door behind him. You were about to push yourself up to leave after a few moments.

You let out a deep breath when you managed to stand up when you heard footsteps behind you. Your hands covered your belly when you turned around. You let out a gasp when you saw Sandor’s brother. He stood between the bookshelves, he was almost as tall as the shelves. His dark eyes stared hard at you and you took a step back.

“Ser Gregor. How are you?” When he did not answer, you began to worry. You looked around, he seemed to be alone.

“Didn't know you were a fan of books. Are you liking the library?” He begins to walk closer to the love seat.

“Never liked books.” He told you as he dropped his sword on the love seat. Showing you that his hands were empty. He held no weapons.

“Sandor was the reader of the family. He liked his books. I see, that hasn't changed.” Gregor walks around the love seat to stand a few feet away from you. His face was hard to read, his eyes just kept looking at your face then at your stomach. You felt petrified. Would you share the same fate as the poor women that Gregor caught? He couldn't though, you were the queen but Gregor is unpredictable.

“He even found someone to read books with.” Your stomach dropped in fear.

“How long were you hiding?” You asked him softly and you were surprised when he answered right away.

“The moment I saw you giving my brother the sign.” Gregor raised his hand up to his chin and scratched it. You couldn't believe he figured it out. Sandor and you were so careful to not be followed. He's been watching both of you for a while.

“What is it that you want from him?” He asks and you frown at his question.

“He's a second born son. He has no land and no money. He's the dog of the king.” You cut him off before he can say another word.

“He is not a dog!” You hiss at Gregor who raised a brow at you “The queen thinks much of the dog.”

You frown at his words. “I love him. I love your brother.” Gregor’s face fell. You held your head high and repeated it to him one more time.

“Then the children?” He knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from you. He knew Sandor would never tell him. You nod at him and look down at your belly.

“All three of them are his. They are your family. The princess is your niece and the prince is your nephew.”

“They will hang you for this. Hang them all including my brother,” Gregor says.

“They won't unless you keep your mouth shut. I know you hate Sandor but you can't hate Leonidas or Joanna”

“Who says I hate Sandor?” You let out a huff at that question and walked to the nearby desk. It was close to the door, you needed to be close to the door in case something happened.

“You burned his face, you pushed him to the coal.” Gregor shook his head. “His bed caught on fire.”

“LIES!” You shouted at him and Gregor’s jaw clenched. “You may have fooled everyone but not me. I believe him.”

Gregor takes a deep breath and it reminds you of a bull. You're frightened but you wouldn't show it. After today’s events, you have had enough of men like Joffrey and Gregor who use and abuse their power.

“Tell me, Ser Gregor. What do you want? What's the price for your silence?” Gregor took a minute to answer. His dark eyes stared down at you, almost trying to intimidate you but it didn't work. You stared right back at him with no fear.

“I want to know..” Gregor stopped in mid sentence and swallowed hard.

“Has Joffrey hurt the children before?” His question confused you. Why was he asking this, you wondered. Sandor has told you that his brother is incapable of feeling. His heart was cold and no love could come from him. All he cared about was killing.

“He has slapped Leonidas.” Gregor frowned deeply. His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened by your words.

“And the girl?” He growled. You shook your head at him. “We have come to a deal. He won't hurt my children. None of them.”

“Exchange for what?” You lower your eyes to the ground.

“I’ll be the one receiving the abuse.” Gregor hums and clears his throat.

“Nothing new.” You look up at him. “He's been doing it already. I have seen the bruising.”

“You're quite the observer, Ser Gregor.” You admit to him.

“Why let him abuse you more for the sake of them?” He asks.

“Because they are my children. They are mine and Sandor’s. I will protect them until my last dying breath and that includes Sandor.” Gregory’s eyes turned into slit at the mention of his brother.

You let out a sigh of relief when the tall man sat down on the loveseat. His elbows rested on top of his knees and he rubbed his hands together. You rubbed your stomach trying to ease your unborn child who was kicking like crazy.

“Does the girl have a knight protecting her?” He asks you.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s always surrounded by her maids and septon.” You answered him and looked at him carefully. He was asking about Joanna. Why?

“I want to guard her.” You shook your head.

“Ser Gregor, I know you are strong and well taught in fighting but your reputation is alarming. You rape and kill woman. Your temper worries me.” He looks away from you. You can’t understand why he’s asking for this. What does he want from Joanna? All the Gods will have to restrain you this moment because you were going to lash out. Why would his man want to guard your daughter, his niece.

“She looks like my sister.” The eldest Clegane brother said.

“Her smile and her hair.” His voice was soft as he continued to speak about her. Sandor mentioned before that her name was Ellie. That was the only thing he knew about her.

“I lost my temper one day.” He shook his head.

“Choked her, it was only for a few seconds but I was much stronger. Stronger than most. All it took was a few seconds. Broke her neck.” Gregor said as he looked across the room at you. He can still recall Ellie's face after he had choked her. Her eyes popped out and her face was red from the lack of oxygen.

“I saw the boy and the girl crying. Then I saw his face, his cheek. I couldn't protect the boy but let me protect her.” You wanted to believe him but you couldn't not after all the horrid things he had done. Not after all the blood he had shed.

“You think by protecting her, everything will be forgiven? The crimes you had committed and the rapes you had done. One day you will lose your temper with her. What would people think when they see The Mountain guarding the princess?” Gregor stood up from the seat and walked towards you. You took a step back and realized your back was against the door.

“I loved my sister.” His voice was strained. “She was the only good thing from my wretched family. Sandor does not remember but mother didn't give a shit about us and father was a drunk who liked to hit. Mother tried to sell Sandor when he was a babe.” Your face fell at his confession.

“I killed her when she came back, she wouldn't shut up about not selling him. Then I killed my father when he told me he wanted to sell Ellie for drinking money. Wanted to sell her to the highest bidder.”

No tears fell but his eyes were glossy. “There was no hunting accident. He simply fell on top of my sword.”

You let out a whimper when he stood in front of you. You were so close to him, you could smell the metal on his armor. You can smell the wine from his breath and he raised his large paw. You thought he was going to hurt you but he placed it on top of your stomach. Your unborn baby seemed to know who it was, your child felt the warmth on their uncle and kicked.

He lets out a small gasp and looks at you with wide eyes. With shaky hands you covered his hands with your own. The baby kicked again.

“Was that..” You nod at him and he starts to rub your belly. “Mother never let me touch her stomach. I wanted to when she was with Sandor.”

His words broke something inside of you. What if Gregor had a good family? A father and mother who cared, would he still be evil and murderous? His eyes remained on your stomach, you moved his hands back and forward around your stomach. A certain kick had you wincing loudly and he quickly removed his hand from your gasp.

“You alright?” He asked and you nod, biting your bottom lip. You were supposed to be bedridden until your pregnancy came to an end.

“Yes.” You answered him and leaned back on the wall, hoping to find some kind of comfort.

“Your brother’s children are always relentless at the end. Kicking their mother left and right at the end of the pregnancy.” You looked up at Gregor.

“Mother said the same thing.” He said softly. “Kicking to get out.”

You took a deep breath before asking him something that could change Joanna’s life.

“Are you truly serious about taking care of my daughter? She is everything to me, Ser Gregor. Sandor and Tywin adore her. If I accept your proposal and you lose your temper or something happens to her..”

“Then you behead me.” He cuts you off, surprising you.

“If I fail, then I accept death. I harmed my siblings, that I regret but I won’t harm my niece and nephew. That you have my word. Since I’ll be with Joanna, she’s mostly with Leonidas. I’ll keep my eye on him. I fear his tongue will get him into trouble with Joffrey again.”

You nod at him. “Sandor, won’t like this at all.”

“It wouldn’t matter unless Joffrey believes it’s his idea.” Gregor declared.

<-- Chapter One