#sandor clegane angst

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Don't hate me. Enjoy -L

Warning: Death, murder, Joffrey is Joffrey, the angst is real af, suicide

Word Count: 12.8k

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chapter 3

Losing Sandor felt like you were drowning in an abyss of loneliness, you felt like you were being stabbed in the chest multiple times with each breath you took. The servants grew worried when you locked yourself in your chambers. They knocked and asked if you needed something. You just shouted you needed to be alone. You were in bed, under the blankets with your face under the pillow when you heard one of the servants mention Sandor’s name. 

“He will get her.” 

“You didn’t hear. He’s Joffrey’s guard now.” The servants grew quiet and you heard them walk away from the door. You begin to ponder on what you have done to upset Sandor so much for him to leave you. Everything was going great, plans were set and you were ready to leave this wretched place. You let out a sob at the thought of your mother. She had told you men only wanted one thing from a women but Sandor was never like that. You were the first to touch him. You were the first to kiss him and you were the first to tell him that you loved him. 

You had to leave your room the next day. The servants had told you that your father requested your presence for breakfast. The servants glanced at one another as you kept quiet while they helped you dress for the day and comb your hair. You felt one of them behind you finishing a braid and placed her hands on your shoulders. 

“Look at you, princess. You look beautiful.” She told you. You look ahead at the mirror and look at yourself. She gave you a smile but you kept the same stoic expression. She had braided your hair and left a few strands to frame your face. They had picked out a light blue dress with white lace on the hem of the dress. You remained silent as you walked out of the room to meet your father. Entering the hall you came to a halt when you saw Joffrey sitting next to your father already eating. Your father sat at the head of the table, Robert’s dark eyes widened at the sight of you. Waving for you to come, you walked inside. You glance back at Joffrey and feel your heart drop at the sight of Sandor standing by the wall behind him. Sandor kept looking forward with a straight face. 

You quickly walked to your father, leaning down to kiss his pudgy cheek. Thanking one of the male servants who pulled your chair for you, you sat on the right side of your father. 

“I didn’t see you yesterday, dear.” Robert said as your plate was being served and Robert’s cup was being filled with more wine. 

“Forgive me, father. I was tired from walking around King’s Landing. I mostly slept and needed much rest. I apologize for troubling you especially during these times.” You had come up with the lie yesterday and knew if you apologized enough he would brush this over. 

“This war.” Robert said before taking a drank from his wine. 

“This war is the last thing on my mind. You are what matters.” You tried to ignore Joffrey’s face. Joffrey’s eyes grew hard and his thin lips turned into a frown at Robert’s word.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked when he saw how down you looked. Sandor watched the servants glancing at one another waiting for your response. Robert kept his eyes on you when you didn't respond right away. “I think I'm coming down with something. Don’t feel well.” 

“Someone bring a maester.” Robert yelled at the servants. “Eat. The maids told me you haven't left your chambers yesterday.” His words were soft and you nodded looking down at the plate. 

“Probably caught something from feeding those peasants. That's what you get for being so close to those animals.” Joffrey said, stabbing his fork into his food. 

Before Robert could speak you answered your brother. “They are not animals. They are humans just like us.” 

“You have spent so much time with them. You have gone mad. Perhaps from being very close to one.” Joffrey said with a smirk. Sandor for the first time in his life, prayed. He prayed to whatever the fuck was up in the heavens to listen to him. He hoped King Robert didn’t think there was any meaning behind Joffrey’s words. The servants and knights watched as Joffrey and you glared at each other. 

“ENOUGH.” Robert shouted at Joffrey. You remained quiet thinking what he meant. Looking at Joffrey, your eyes glance up at Sandor. You wanted to cry all over again, he had his usual scowl and his eyes were hard. He couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to, he knew he would break character. He would rather be punished than have you think he didn’t love you but he couldn't have you get hurt. 

“Is there a reason why you have Sandor as your guard now?” Sandor’s heart dropped to the floor at Robert’s question. “I’m sure my sister would like to answer that.” Joffrey said, trying his best to hide his smile.

You wanted to throw the plate of food at your brother’s face. You didn't know what to say. How can you tell your father that Sandor had broken your heart after being together for years. You didn't want Sandor to be punished or worse, executed for being with you. Sandor had hurt badly but you still loved him.  Clearing your throat, you look over at your father. You told the lie you came up with. A lie that would change your life forever. 

“I think it’s time for me to get married.” Joffrey and Robert frowned. 

“I won't be able to do that. Like mother said, that d-man is always behind me.” You had refused to call Sandor a dog. You wouldn't do it even if you were angry at him for leaving you.  Joffrey leans back against his chair and gives you a glare. 

“I see.” Robert said looking unsure. You had to make sure your father believed you. For Sandor’s sake and yours. If Sandor didn't want you then you would leave King’s Landing. 

“I will write to my betrothed in Dorne and ask if he still wants our houses to be joined.” Robert gave you a look still not believing since you fought so hard to not be married. 

“This will be a good thing. Dorne's army had risen as well their weapons. Houses are sliding with your brother, father. We need the manpower. I know Dorne will keep me safe. You have done so much for me, father. Let me help you in the only way I can. I must marry.” You finished with a nod looking at Robert seriously. Joffrey was angry when Robert yelled at him but the look Robert gave you infuriated Joffrey. Robert looked proud at you. 

“Spoken well, my dear. Dorne is fortunate to have a true, strong Baratheon.” Robert gave you a smile and quickly rose up saying he will write to Drone himself about this matter. 

“Dog, let’s go.” Joffrey shouted, throwing his fork on the table after Robert left in a hurry to write the letter. Force of habit, you were about to yell at Joffrey for calling Sandor a dog but you remembered he wasn’t your guard anymore. Sandor isn’t your lover or your guard or your friend anymore. You look over when Sandor begins to walk behind Joffrey. Blinking the unshed tears away, you took a deep breath. You were alone at the table. You can feel the eyes of the servants behind you, waiting for your next move. 

“May I have wine, please?” You asked and quickly a cup was placed in front of you. A servant came beside you and leaned forward to fill your cup. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was soft as you grabbed the cup. Staring at the red liquid inside of it, you wondered why Cersei drank so much. Is this why your father drank so heavily? Both of them were unhappy with their life so they drank. No one said a word when you drank the cup completely, drank it in a hurry that it spilled from the corner of your mouth and dripped down to your dress, staining it. When you were done, you asked for another and another. They kept their silence when you stood up without touching your plate, disregarding the maester that came in. With the cup in your hand, you began to walk out of the room to your bed chambers. 

Your days were spent like that. Waking up and asking for a pitcher of wine. You stayed in your room for hours, with no human contact, just your books and wines. At night, you cried yourself to sleep. Dreams of being with Sandor and nightmares of him screaming that he never did love you woke you up. 

“Lord Baelish.” You greeted him when you opened the door of your chambers after you heard a knock. He stood outside your door with a smile and his hands clasped behind him. 

“Princess, I haven’t seen you in days. How are you doing?” 

“I’m alright.” He gives you a nod before stepping close to you. 

“We should walk in the garden, princess. I have some news.” Your eyes widened and you nodded at him. Lord Baelish waited outside with the new guard appointed to you by your father. The guard was a young man, not tall as Sandor but he had a kind face. Walking side by side with Lord Baelish and the guard a few feet behind. Lord Baelish filled you in with the war. The last battle wasn’t going well for your father, he was losing men and Dorne hasn't responded yet with his letter. 

“You wanted to know if the Hound was doing alright, correct?” Lord Baelish asked, looking over at you as you stopped in front of a bench. 

“That is right, I care for all the servants.” You said getting close to him, you didn't want him to grow suspicious on why you were so interested in Sandor. Lord Baelish froze when you placed a hand on his chest. Playing with the buttons of his shirt, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit with you on the bench. 

“I care for all my friends as well.” You said as you pulled Lord Baelish’s hand on your lap. His hand were so different from Sandor. Lord Baelish hands were soft and small with no evidence that he has done manual labor in his entire life. Running your fingers over his knuckles, you wished it was Sandor. Sandor’s hands were a gift from the Seven. His hands are large, fingers are thick and rough. He had scars and calluses on his hands from working and fighting. You pressed your thighs together when you remember how big they felt inside of you. The way you drooled on them when Sandor was making love to you.  

“Good princess, keep sucking on them.” You let out a deep breath and let Lord Baelish’s hand go. 

“You’re far too kind, Princess. You amaze me everyday.” You look over at him with a smile. You felt bile coming up your throat at the look he gave you. 

“Sandor is doing well. Joffrey and him visited the brothel last week. Sandor fucked a whore bloodily. He has become quite the beast since he started to guard your brother.” 

You felt an arrow being shot in your chest by his words. Sandor was at a brothel. Sandor was sleeping with another woman who wasn't you. You wanted to cry all over again. You began to wonder if Sandor had been with anyone else when he was with you. The nights you shared your bed with him, was he sharing his with another? Did those lips you love so much were on someone else's lips? 

“Lord Baelish, do forgive me. I have forgotten that my mother asked to see me before dinner. I must see her. She said it was rather important.” You rambled as you got up from the bench. 

“Farewell, my dear friend.” Lord Baelish was starstruck when you placed a kiss on his chin before walking away without waiting for his response. He kept his gaze on you, watching you walk away. 

“Princess, if he has done something. Tell me right now.” Your guard said when saw you in tears. He had taken his helmet off and kneel in front of you when you barged into your chambers in tears. 

“I swear it. I will kill him.” You look at your guard who held a concerned look on his young face.  When he was about to rise up to leave the room. You held on to his shoulder, you quickly removed your hand.

“Please don’t. Lord Baelish hasn’t done anything. He just brought me sad news.” The guard nodded before looking down at the ground. 

“I’m sorry, princess. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll help you.” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You glance at the guard who kept his gaze on the ground below you. 

“Thank you. What’s your name?” The guard looks up. “It’s Felix, princess.” You nodded at him. 

“Well Felix, would you like to join me for some tea?” You asked since he was so kind to you. He rose a brow at you in shock by your invite. “Or you can have some wine or ale. Whatever your choice is, it's yours.” You added just realizing now how ridiculous it is, that a knight will drink some tea. 

“Are you always this nice?” His question caught you by surprise. You noticed he was staring at you. His eyes had a pretty shade of blue, his nose and lips were thin. 

“I try to be but now I’m thinking I should change that.” Felix saw how your eyes dropped down to the ground. “You shouldn’t. There’s not enough nice people in the seven kingdoms. I’m happy that I am guarding one of them.” You smiled at his words. 

“Tea does sound good but I would prefer ale.” He told you as he rose up from the ground. 

“Then you shall have ale, Ser Felix.” 

The days went on and Ser Felix made it manageable. The servants seemed to be happy that you were talking again but once in a while they would find you staring off in the distance. Word of Sandor’s vicious attitude has gotten around the castle. Joffrey has grown to be more aggressive to the servants and to the people around him. You had refused to look at Joffrey and Sandor. It has been a few weeks and you haven’t spoken to either of them. Whenever you walked down the hallway, you kept your gaze ahead and if you happened to meet Sandor and Joffrey, you passed them like they didn’t exist. You ignored Joffrey as he taunted you while making your way with Ser Felix behind you. 

Sandor kept staring at the new guard, Ser Felix was strapping a saddle on a horse. Sandor was behind a pillar as the servants came up to Ser Felix and handed him a large satchel. Sandor knew you were going to walk again, giving food out. He felt ridiculous for being jealous that you were going with the new guard instead of him. He always went with you when doing that. Sandor thought he could handle being Joffrey’s guard. He couldn't, it took all the strength in him to not strangle the prince. He had gotten used to sitting down with you and eating meals with you but Joffrey didn’t care if he ate or rested. Joffrey would call him a dog or worse snap his fingers at him and because of it. His attitude changed more, he was more angry. 

He was furious that he was taken away from you. Furious that the new guard you had, is so close to you. Sandor had watched you and Ser Felix walking in the garden. You drank tea, while your guard drank a cup of ale. He kept updates on you, your servants were kind enough to fill him in. He felt horrible when they told him you barely ate and you weren't yourself but you were getting better now with Ser Felix. News of the prince of Drone arriving at King’s Landing had broken him. He was drinking in his new chambers that Joffrey provided him. It was half of a room now and the bed was uncomfortable. Sandor knows the prince will wed you and will take you away from here. Away from him. Joffrey had taken him to a whorehouse to celebrate the prince coming to take you away. Joffrey did it to hurt him and it did. “Go find yourself a new bitch, dog.” 

Sandor obeyed him and grabbed the nearest girl from her wrist. He didn’t look at her or asked her for her name. Sandor ignored the girl who was sitting on the bed waiting for him but he sat by the corner of the room with a cup of ale. The girl grew worried when Sandor didn’t move from his spot, he just kept staring at the ground as he drank. After an hour had passed and the girl flinched when Sandor finally rose up from his chair. The pitcher near him was empty and the sun was setting. He walked towards the bed and threw two silver coins near her.

“If they ask you, tell them I fucked you bloody. You hear me, girl? If you don’t say that. I’ll fucking kill you.” Sandor snapped at her and she nodded at him. 

There was a relieved look on her face when she realized Sandor was really not going to do anything to her. He was about to walk out the room when he froze and grabbed a dragger from his belt. The girl let out a whimper when Sandor raised the dragger. She saw Sandor slicing the bottom edge of his palm, just enough for him to bleed. She flinched when Sandor walked towards her and yelped when he pushed her back and lifted her skirt. She felt him wipe his blood on inner thighs. She pushed herself up when Sandor left the room without saying another word. Sandor walked out of the whorehouse and saw Joffrey had waited for him outside the establishment, in a carriage. He brought the window down and had a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Sandor wanted to roll his eyes. Joffrey still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of the shit city. 

“How was your new bitch?” Joffrey asked as Sandor walked closer to him. “Tight.” Sandor answered as he signaled Stranger to come forward. He just wanted to go back to his room and be alone. He wanted to sleep because at least he’s with you in his dreams. 

Sandor watched as the new guard gave you a smile as you walked towards him, you were ready for the day. You had a light brown dress on. He left when you began to walk with the new guard. Trying to ignore the horrible gut feeling in his stomach. Few hours later he stood behind Joffrey as the prince was with his father in a council meeting. Robert was in the middle of talking when the door opened with a bang. One of the king's guards came running inside. Robert was about to yell at the guard when the guard announced something that turned Sandor’s blood cold. 

“There was a riot, your grace. The princess was giving them food when it broke out. We found her guard, he’s been killed. Ripped limb from limb. We can’t find the princess.” 

Robert rose from his seat and began to yell for every knight to search the city. “I want every house, every building searched.” He screamed as Marcella and Tommen were being comforted by Cersei. 

“Stay here, dog.” Joffrey commanded him after Robert said every available knight must go. “My pri-“ “Stay put!” Joffrey yelled at Sandor cutting hm off as he looked out the balcony. 

Sandor could hear the screams of the people as the knights barged into their homes. Flipping it inside out then leaving for the next spot. He knew the feeling in his gut was right, something bad did happened. His eyes widened when he saw Jamie Lannister and his group walking up the hill. Jamie was carrying you. You laid unconscious in his arms.  Jamie had found you after an older woman and her daughter saved you and hid you in their house. Sandor stared at the woman and her daughter as they were brought into question. They stood in the middle of the court and explained Robert what had happened. Sandor looked down to see the daughter’s feet. She wore your shoes that you had gifted her. 

“It’s the war, your grace. With barely enough food going around, they became crazy. Everything was going well. The princess was handling food when the people from flea bottom started to cut the line.” 

The woman started to tear up as she continued. “She tried her best to calm them. She didn’t want the children to get hurt. They ignored her and took her guard. She tried to help him.” 

“She cried out to them to stop as they began to beat him and started to pull his limbs.” The woman let out a deep breath. Her daughter rubbed her back for comfort.

“That’s when the riot broke out. The city split into two. Many tried to protect her, we love her, your grace” Robert stared at the woman below him as she confessed their love for you. 

“We love the Princess. Is she alright? We are all worried for her.” The woman began to cry loudly as she fell on her knees in front of the court. 

Sandor snuck into your bed chamber in the middle of the night when you haven’t woken up in two days. Robert usually left at night after spending his morning and afternoon in your room. Something changed in the drunken king after the incident with you. Robert punished the flea bottom for it, he gave rewards to anyone who knew who started the riot. Sandor shuts the door behind him carefully making his way towards you. He can hear your soft breathing. He freezes at the sight of you. You’re laying on your bed with your hands resting top on your stomach. He can see bruising on the right side of your face, they have washed you and clothed you in a nightgown. He couldn’t get rid of the sight of the light brown dress you had on earlier that day you left. It was bloody and caked with shit and dirt from the streets when they found you. 

Sandor whispers your name. He knew he shouldn’t be in your room. He shouldn’t have come here but it was killing him not seeing you. Even if you weren’t speaking to him, he at least got to see you but now since you've been hurt. He hadn’t seen you at all. Sandor touches your hand, he brings one of your hands up to his lips. Kissing it and nuzzling into your palm as he leans down. He starts to breathe heavily as he cups his face with your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers as he stares down at you. Your hand falls limp and he brings it back to his face, using his other hand to keep your hand in place. Knowing the maesters should be making their rounds soon. He leans down, close to your face. The bed dips under his weight. He says your name once more and kisses you on the lips. Sandor whines as he kisses you once more. Savoring it, since it will be the last time. He hoped you would wake up in time to get healed before the prince from Dorne arrived. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips. Pouring everything he had left to give, he kissed you for the last time. He blinked the tears away and walked away from the bed. He gives you one last look over his shoulder before he leaves and continues to pretend that he doesn't love you. You woke up the next day and found your father sitting next to you. He had hugged you and kissed your forehead calling the maesters to come and check up on you. Your servants stood outside your chambers when Robert told you about the news of Ser Felix. 

They cover their mouth with their hands to stop themselves from crying when they hear your cries. You let out a sob after learning what happened to him. You cried in your father’s arms at the horrible news of Ser Felix's death. Robert had you tell him everything from your point of view. He was happy when your story matched the same one from the woman. Robert had forbidden you to go back to the city, he had grown close to you as the days passed and it only made Joffrey more angry to the point that Sandor had witnessed Joffrey being the true monster he is. Sandor stood outside of the prince's chambers as the prince laughed loudly while he shot a whore in the leg with his bow and arrow. Sandor disposed of the body the next day and pretended nothing happened just like Joffrey did. Sandor only saw you when the family sat together eating dinner. It was the only time when Robert wanted to be seated together. Cersei and Joffrey had gotten annoyed at the fact that Robert wanted you close to him. Sandor watched as you barely ate but you drank more and more each day. You never looked up from your plate only when your father spoke to you. He can see the fake smile you gave everyone including the servants. 

You gave the same fake smile when you were told the prince is making his way up to King’s landing. 

The castle was going crazy the following day for the arrival of the Prince from Dorne. All morning your servants waited on you, they washed you, clothed you into one of the finest dresses you were gifted. You allowed them to place a diamond necklace around your neck as they rubbed oil on your arms and legs, you tried your best to be excited like they were but you just couldn't. You tried your best to be in a good mood but nothing was working. You had nightmares every night since you woke up. Your dreams would be flooded with the sight of Ser Felix being ripped apart, you started to imagine his screams and the sound of his flesh being torn. You can still recall the pushes and the slaps you received when you tried to break the riot apart. You had called out for Sandor, you screamed his name as the riot broke out. Thinking about it now, you felt ridiculous for shouting his name.

You felt nothing even when the prince walked towards you when you entered the great hall. It was dinner and he was the first to rise up from his seat. He was tall, had brown curls on top of his head and his eyes matched his hair color. His skin was tan and it went well with the yellow mustard robe he wore. You gave him a smile as he introduced himself, while grabbing a hold of your hand. He leans down to kiss your knuckles and you glanced behind him. 

Catching Sandor’s gaze across the room, he quickly looked away and you did the same. The prince's name was Lewyn, second of his name. He sat across from you and you had to admit. He was very handsome. Speaking with Lewyn had eased your worry of not liking your husband to be. He was kind and respectful. You were surprised when he gave you his condolences about your guard, Ser Felix. Walking around the garden, he told you that he knew about the incident that had occurred. You immediately thought, he wouldn't want to join houses because of it. Your mother had screamed up a storm, telling you to stop with this excessive idea of helping the poor. 

“To be honest, I thought the stories about you were lies.” He said and you froze next to him. He turned to face you. 

“The most kind and beautiful princess to have ever lived.” You blushed hard at his words. “The stories are true and I'm happy because of it. I need a good and kind woman by my side.” For a moment you had forgotten all about what happened the last few months as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. His lips were soft and he smelled like the sun and spices. 

A celebration was in order according to Robert, House Baratheon and House Martell will be joining together. Robert had deemed that the celebration of your engagement will be the largest celebration the Seven Kingdoms will ever witness. The days passed and everyone was preparing for the celebration. The castle was being cleaned and decorated. Everyone who your father invited was coming to King's Landing. You greeted the Starks, Arryn, Greyjoy, Mormont, Tarly, Tyrell, Glover and more as they came to the celebration. Everything was overwhelming but you were grateful for Lewyn. As the days passed you grew closer to him, he never left you unattended. Walks around the gardens and eating meals together. He showed you books he had brought you about his home. The time you had a moment for yourself was at night. You stayed up staring at the ceiling as you thought about Sandor. 

You haven't seen Sandor as Joffrey was doing god knows what. You touched your lips as you remembered the dream you had. You had dreamt that Sandor had come to your room in the middle of the night and kissed you. The dream felt so real, he kissed you and told you he had loved you. Shutting your eyes you traced your lips with your fingers as you placed the other hand on your chest. You can recall his smell and his warmth. You imagine Sandor between your legs. You cupped your breasts, imagining it was Sandor’s large hands. You let out a whine as you pulled your nipple over your nightgown as you remembered the last time you were intimate with him. Your cunt clenched around the nothingness as you remembered his cock going in and out of you. Taking your hand from your lips, you bring it under the covers and under your nightgown. You moaned when you touched your clit, you whispered his name as you remembered how good his fingers felt, how good his tongue felt on your cunt. 

“Sandor!” You cry out as you slip your finger inside of you. 

The night ended and the sun rose, it was the morning of the celebration. The official announcement of your engagement. Robert wanted you to have this since your wedding will be held in Drone. Lewyn wished for you to be married in his home and you accepted it. You knew you couldn’t get married in the same room with Sandor. You were woken a bit later by your servants who came inside your chambers to get you ready. The morning seems like a blur to you, you allowed them to fawn over you. While they dressed you one of the servants gave you a note from Prince Lewyn. His words made you smile but you felt nothing. He wished you a good morrow and he will count the seconds until he gets to see you again. 

“This seems a bit too much.” You said as you stood in front of the door of the great hall while looking at the decorations hanging by the door. You were unaware of your uncles behind you. Jamie who stood with Tyrion just smiled at you.

“Is that so?” Tyrion said as he stepped near you. He was dressed in red and golden robe while Jamie wore his golden armor. Giving a warm smile to your uncles, he asked you to kneel down. You tried your best with the dress you had on. 

“You’re not like us, child.” You frowned and he continued. “I'm so happy you aren't. You're different and I pray that you will live a happy life in Drone.”

“You think I will live a happy life?” You asked him and he nodded. You don't believe him as you stood up with the help of Jamie who lent you his arm. 

“Your husband-to-be, shall be standing near your father. Just walk towards the throne.” Jamie said as the servants came in to fix the train of your dress. Jamie kissed you on the cheek and wished you good fortune. 

They handed you a bouquet of flowers as you heard the music start to play. The guards opened the doors and you looked ahead. Everyone's eyes were on you as you walked to the throne. Your hands shook but you continued on. You can see Eddard Stark along with his wife standing. They gave you a nod as the guards announced your name. Lewyn stood below the steps of the throne where your father sat. He smiled when you made eye contact with him. He was dressed in beautiful silver and white dress robes. It matched with your dress. He gives you his arm and helps you walk up the steps. 

“You're absolutely breathtaking.” He whispered to you as both of you stood in front of your father. 

Sandor watched with a heavy heart as you walked to your husband-to-be. The gown trailed behind you and the diamond necklace around your neck shined with every step you took. The guards and servants whispered amongst themselves about your appearance, calling you an angel. Robert made a speech about the houses joining together, you tried to look at the prince but your eyes wanted to look over at your family side, for you hoped to see Sandor. Lewyn leaned towards you to whisper in your ear after Robert’s speech. 

“Your father mentioned to me that you are close with the people of King’s Landing. He didn't want you walking around anymore. I was able to do something since this will be their last chance to see you.” Lewyn said as he held your hand and walked with you down the hall. 

Walking to the front doors of the castle, he gently squeezed your hand as he waved the guards to open the doors of the castle. The moment the doors opened you can hear cheering and your name being shout. You let go of his hand as you walked forward seeing the people of King’s Landing standing out of the castle. Knights were lined up as a wall, keeping the large crowd back. The people in King's Landing grew silent when you stepped closer to them. They haven’t seen you in weeks after the riot, they stood staring at you in complete awe by the way you’re dressed. A smile appeared on your face and you chuckled in shock at the amount of people who showed up. You waved at them and the silence disappear, they cheered loudly as you waved at them. They shouted the word princess over and over again as they waved their hands and arms. They threw flowers at your feet. Robert stood behind you as he watched in disbelief by how much the people loved you but that's why you were called the Realm's Delight.

It soon changed when the crowd started to push the knights back trying to get closer to you. There was a shout and the knights a few feet in front of you fell back, the crowd pushed forward. Robert yelled at the knights to keep formation. 

“PRINCESS!” You gasped when people started to run towards you. Robert pushed you behind as Jamie started to run towards the crowd. One man had managed to go under the knights and threw himself at your feet. Leywen gathered you in his arms pulling you back, you almost tripped on the train of your dress. The man was about to touch your dress when there was a rough growl and a tall frame came between you and the man. 

You watched as Sandor grabbed the man from the back of his shirt. Growling at his face, Sandor gave him a glare. “You dare to touch her.” Sandor snapped as he grabbed a hold of the man’s neck, pulling him up. The servants and the Lords and ladies gasped. 

“Sandor! Please! Stop it. Don’t hurt him.” You shouted, pushing yourself away from Leywen, reaching for Sandor’s arm.  Sandor drops the man when he feels you grab a hold of his arm. He looks at you and takes a step back. The man is gasping for air on the floor. 

“Y/n!” Cersei shouted pushing the ladies out of her way when she saw you leaning over the gasping man. 

“Are you alright?” You asked as you helped the man who still on his knees. You ignored the muttering behind you from the lords and ladies when you offered your hand to him, a commoner. 

“Get away from him.” Cersei forcefully pulled you back making you wince from her gripped. 

“Throw him away!” Cersei shouted at Sandor. He glances over at you for a second, taking in your facial expression. He looked away when Leywen walked in front of you. The prince looked over at you, taking your face in his hands. 

It was two days after the celebration when Sandor was told of the news of the war. Robert’s brother was going to attack soon again. One of Lord Varys’ spies had found out and Robert was getting ready. Sandor stood behind Joffrey when he received the news that Joffrey will be joining them as well. The blonde looked shocked by it. 

‘What do you mean?” Joffrey asked as Robert grabbed his sword. 

“You're heir to the throne and you haven't fought once in battle. Do you want to sit this out and add more fuel to what the people are saying?” Joffrey glared at his father. 

“I don't care what they have to say about me. I am heir to the iron throne and I can send men in my place.” Robert walked close to him and signaled Sandor to leave the room. He bowed and obeyed, he stood behind the door as Robert yelled at Joffrey. 

The rumors after your celebration had spread throughout the entire kingdom. A rumor that had the council worry. Sandor decided to walk to the armory of the castle. Knowing since Joffrey was going to go, he will have too as well. Sandor isn't afraid of war, he has been in them since he was kid. He looked at the swords and the shields hanging on the walls. 

“Sandor.” He turns when he hears you behind him. You were standing by the entrance. He looks away from you. “Have I angered you so much that you won't even look at me?” Sandor doesn't know what to say.

“I'm truly sorry for whatever I have done. I'm sorry.” He made no response because you were going to leave soon. The prince from Drone had gone back home to start preparing for your arrival and the wedding. You looked happy with the prince, he couldn't take that away from you. Not after he broke you, he tells himself. 

“At least look at me before I leave. I wish to see you one more time.” Sandor shuts his eyes when he feels your hand on his arm. He turns to you and looks down at you. He won't say anything but he will look at you, giving you your last wish before you leave. 

“I want to hate you.” Sandor’s eyes shot open at your words. You gave him a face and repeated it again. 

“I want to hate you. I should hate you.” You cried out slapping his chest with all your might.

“Hate me then.” Sandor said, grabbing a hold of your wrists and holding them. 

“You’re a fucking coward, you know that.” You hissed at him trying to pull away from him but he kept his grip on you tight. Sandor laughs at your face, “Coward, you say.” 

“The coward is your fucking brother.” Sandor said, making you shake your head. 

“He isn't my brother. He's my half brother. I'm nothing like him.” You snapped at him and Sandor pushed you against the wall. He released your wrists and caged you with his arms. 

“You aren't.” Sandor whispered as he stared at you. You don't flinch when he brings his hand to touch your cheek. 

“You ain't nothing like them. Not like your mother who fucks her brother. Not like your devil of a brother. You're kind. You're good, so good.” You held on to his arms as he touched your cheek, you missed his touch. 

“You bring that good to Drone, you hear me. Don’t fucking change.” Sandor tells you softly, making you frown. “I don't want to go to Drone. I want to stay here with you. You made me do this. You made me do it. I did it for you so you wouldn't get punished.” Sandor steps away from you and you quickly go to the entrance, blocking his path. 

“I did it for you because I love you, Sandor Clegane. We still have a chance. We can still run away.” Sandor looks at you with hope for a second. 

“I have to get ready for the battle. I'm going with your brother.” You looked so distraught by this news. 

“Leave with me, please. Right now.” Sandor shook his head at you. “If I leave before the battle, they will know. They will look for me. Joffrey will have my head.” 

“Joffrey has never gone to any battle before. I don't even think he knows how to swing a sword. Why is he even going?” You asked and Sandor looks at you with furrowed brows. 

“You don't know?” He asked you. “I would have thought Little Finger would have told you already.” 

“Told me what?” Sandor stared at you. “The people want you to be their queen. Not your bastard brother.” You stared at him shocked. 

“I don't understand. The realm will never accept a woman on the throne.” You told him, making him shake his head. 

“That was before, now they would rather have you on it. They want you. They have started calling you the rightful heir to the throne. You have done more than Joffrey. Your father is taking him tomorrow to the battle so the people in the realm can see him.” Sandor told you. 

“That day..” Sandor stops in mid and grabs your hand with his. “You should have seen them. Robert saw they loved you but he didn't realize how much. Then you gave your hand out to that man, to help him. A princess helping a commoner. The street started to shout your name and they called you the true heir. The rumor that Cersei and Jamie tried so hard to cover has exploded. The people started to shout bastard at the sight of Joffrey.” 

“My father doesn't believe them, though?” You asked. “ I don't know. The council suggested for him to take Joffrey. He has to do this because half of the army is on your side now.” You frowned. 

“They will serve for the true heir of the throne. A true Baratheon.” 

Sandor felt you grasp his hand and pull him closer to you. “After the battle then? I thought I could go to Drone without you but I can't. My heart refuses to leave you behind.” 

“I won’t watch you marry him.” Sandor said, making you chuckle. “I'm not marrying him. The moment I'm on the road I'm escaping.” 

Sandor frowned as you told him your plan to escape. “You're crazy. You won't survive by yourself.” 

“I only need to survive until I make it 100 miles from Winterfell. Eddard Stark has granted me safe haven until I figure out where to go.” 

“You believe him?” Sandor shouts in disbelief. “He knows of us.” Sandor is left speechless. 

“After the celebration, I was walking in the gardens. I never felt more alone that day. He found me crying, we spoke about what happened with the crowd and it just slipped out. He swore to me he wouldn't say a word. All I have to do is send a raven and he has promised to meet me halfway to escort me back to Winterfell.” 

‘If it's a trap?” Sandor asked angrily. “I don't care. As long as I'm with you.” You answered him. 

“I’ll leave you now. My offer still stands. You will make me the happiest woman if you do come with me, I’ll wait after the battle. I don't know what I have done to you. What I have said but I'm sorry and I love you. I will always love you, Sandor. If this was all just a ruse so you can get your dick wet then enjoy your whore and farewell.” 

Sandor screamed at himself as he watched you walk away. He wanted to run after you. His feet remained glued to the floor. ‘Whore?’ he asked himself. ‘What whore?’ You were the last person he's been with, your lips were the last he has kissed. Sandor manages to break free and begins to walk out of the room and down the hallway. He looks both ways in hope to see you. He's about to walk to your chambers when he hears Joffrey behind him, coming to a halt he turns to see the prince.

“Father, has lost his mind, Dog! He wants us to go tonight. Says I need the experience.” Sandor watches as Joffrey walks towards him with a frown. 

“All because of my bitch sister!” Joffrey yelled. Sandor’s jaw clenched. “This is all because of her. I hate her.” 

“The realm wants a whore who fucks second born sons sitting on the throne.” Joffrey spawned out with hatred. 

Sandor's body has been acting on its own. First holding his feet froze as you left and now his hand is resting on the hilt of his sword. He stared at Joffrey as he tightened his grip on it while Joffrey kept calling you a whore. With one swing, he can kill Joffrey and go to your room. Both of you could run away, go to Winterfell then go to Braavos. He will be free and tell you everything. He will tell you everything and he will be happy. 

Sandor wants to be happy with you. 

“Prince Joffrey!” Sandor drops his hand when Jamie comes walking towards them. “Your horse is ready. We leave now. Your father is waiting for you.” Jamie told him. 

“Very well.” Joffrey answers and signals Sandor to come with him. 

You were looking out the window when you saw your father walking to the stable. You frown when you see the knights do the same. You thought they would leaving tomorrow. You ran out of your chambers and searched for your servants. You found her looking out the balcony outside of your chambers. 

“What's happening?” You asked her and she told you Robert decided to get to the field early so they can have an advantage. 

“The rest of the army will join them at morrow.” She said before walking you back to your chambers. You drank tea that night, trying to ease the unwell feeling in your stomach. You paid no mind to it, you had to get ready to leave. You couldn't sleep that night, the thought of Sandor on the field with your half-brother. Knowing Joffrey, he would make Sandor protect him while he hides away. Packing a light bag the next morning, you grabbed the letter to Eddard Stark. Quickly walking out, you noticed your servants and the guards down the hallway were gone. How strange, it was. 

Out of breath from running, you watched as the raven flew with the letter attached to its leg. You prayed it would make it in time. Walking out of the room, you heard yelling. Making your way to the kitchen, you saw the cooks huddle together as they looked out the door. 

“What's going on?” You asked and they yelped in surprise. They greeted you with a small bow. 

“Tell me at once, what's happening?” You asked worriedly. 

“It's the other knights princess. They don't want to go! They refuse to fight with your bastard brother.” One of the cooks gasped when she let out the word bastard. 

“Forgive me, pri-” You cut her off by shaking your head. “I know, I know all about it.” You told them, making their eyes widen. 

“It's true.” You said with a nod. “But my father still needs them to win this war.” You said pushing the cooks out of the way with the small bag over your shoulder. 

You can hear them shouting for you to come back. Making your way to the stable, you saw the stable boy. You begged him to prepare a horse for you, you were in dire need to get to the rest of the knights who were refusing to go and fight. The stable boy and the cooks watched as you began to ride to the front gates of King’s Landing. 

You saw the golden armor of the King’s guard, it was Jamie second in command. He was arguing with one of the knights as they stayed still. The moment they saw you, they froze. “Princess,” the second in command bowed. 

“Why haven't they moved? The battle can be happening now and my father and Sa-” You stopped yourself, you were going to say Sandor’s name. They couldn't know why you were doing this. 

“We won't fight with that bastard Joffrey.'' One of the knights yelled and the rest cheered.   “How dare you call the heir to the throne a bastard!” Jamie’s second in command yelled. 

“He’s right.” You said and he looked over at you, shocked by what you said. You would have to tell them the truth. It was the only way to help Sandor and your father. Without them, you fear the war will be lost. Gripping the reins of the horse tightly, you took a deep breath and looked over at the knights ahead of you.

“You are all right!” You yelled with all your might. 

“Joffrey is a bastard. His father is Jaime Lannister. You won’t fight for him but I beg you to fight for me. Fight for me!” You cried out. 

“And when we win this war against Stannis, I will speak with my father. If what you say is true, you want me to be your queen. I’ll do it! I’ll be your queen and I'll rule the seven kingdoms with fairness and with just. You will no longer be hungry, no longer shall you worry about how to survive because I will be your queen. A true Baratheon will sit on the Iron Throne. Will you fight this war for me?!” 

You let out a deep breath when they shouted amongst themselves. 

“FOR THE FUTURE QUEEN!! FOR THE FUTURE QUEEN!” 

Jamie’s second in command was astounded as the knights began to get on their horses. “Will you stand by my side as we bring them to my father?” You asked him with hope he will accept. 

He nodded at you. “For our future Queen.” 

Sandor felt like he was sinking under water and his head was ringing. He didn’t see that knight coming at him. Too busy keeping Joffrey safe. His helmet was long gone, he used it to break someone's jaw when he dropped his sword.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Robert’s army should’ve been here. Stannies had decided to attack the moment they saw Robert’s army coming at dawn. Sandor felt Joffrey behind him. Jamie had shouted for the rest of the remaining king’s guard to hold their post. 

“Dog!” Joffrey’s voice echoed in his mind. 

He felt Joffrey hitting Sandor’s on the back. Sandor looked over his shoulder and grabbed Joffrey’s Valyrian steel sword from his hand and swung it across the man near him. Joffrey's mouth dropped open when Sandor completely decapitated the man’s head in one single blow. 

“JOFFREY!” Jamie yelled.  Sandor watched his back as Jamie yelled at Joffrey to go back to base. They had to retreat, they were losing men by the minute. 

“Where’s your father?” Sandor growled as he looked ahead, ready for anyone to get near with Joffrey’s sword in his hand. “I don’t know. You keep this.” Jamie said, handling Joffrey a dagger. 

“I’m not going back.” Joffrey hissed at his uncle. Jamie frowned, “There are not enough men. We have to retreat.” 

“Take him with you.” Sandor snapped at Jamie as a group of men started to head towards them. Jamie grabbed Joffrey by the neck ignoring his shouts to release him. 

Sandor can hear the galloping behind him. Sandor let out a deep breath as he relaxed his nervousness. Sandor Clegane was nervous, he didn’t think he would survive this time. The cut on his arm hurts like a bitch. His head is ringing, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of you on a horse, the horse is standing on the far edge of a cliff across the field. 

Sandor was so busy looking at you, he didn’t see the man coming at him. Before he could see the man, a horse passed him, taking the man down. The rider had stabbed the man in the head. 

“Clegane.” Robert shouted as he rode towards him. Robert had just saved him. 

Before he could answer, there was a horn that caused them to stop for a second. Robert had sweat dripping down his forehead, blood of his enemies was dripping down his armor. He looks across the field and his dark eyes widened when he saw the other half of his army riding in. There was hope that they would win this war. In the corner of his eyes, he saw two horses standing by the cliff. He saw it was the second in command of the King’s guard and you. You’re on a white horse, staring down at the field. A smile appeared on his tired face, you, his daughter had brought his knights to him. 

They won the war because of you. Robert and his men rode back to base. He frowned when he saw Joffrey's horse standing by the King's tent. 

“Where’s my son?!” He shouted. Robert noticed the angry look on the knights' faces when Joffrey walked out of the tent. Joffrey stood still when he saw Robert getting off his horse and walking towards him. 

“Where were you? You hid?” Robert shouted. Joffrey glared about to say something when they heard the rest coming. Joffrey was seething when he saw you riding first into base with the second in command. The army you brought rode behind you. 

Robert watched as you rode near him. Without a single thought, Robert helped you get down off of your horse. The knights around you stood up from their seats. 

“I had to do it. It was the only way for them to come.” You whispered to Robert, looking at Joffrey by the tent. 

“Do what?” Robert asked, cupping your face. 

“They came here because they fought for me, father. I must tell you something and you have to believe me. Please, let’s go inside.” You said grabbing your father’s hand and tugging him to the tent. 

“What are you doing here?” Joffrey yelled as he walked towards you. “This has nothing to do with you.” You said taking a step back when you saw the craziness in his eyes. 

“Father-.” “Pleas-.” 

Robert hushed both of you as the knights began to shout amongst themselves. “Go inside. I’ll be back to discuss this matter.” Robert tells you before walking to the group of knights. 

You passed Joffrey and walked into the tent. “You just had to be here.” 

You ignored Joffrey and stood at the far end of the tent. “Just because you brought the rest of the army, you think you’re better than me?” Joffrey asked as he came to the table where the maps were laid out. 

“You’re nothing, sister. I count the days where you leave for Drone. I pray to the gods you get sick on your travels and die.” You look at Joffrey. 

“Fuck you.” You spat at him and there was a look of pure anger in his eyes. It scared you because you never saw him like this. 

“He’s dead, you know.” Joffrey said, walking around the table trying to get closer to you. 

“What?” Joffrey nods at you with a smile. “I saw that fucking dog you love so much go down. The sword was rammed in his chest.” You felt your chest tighten by Joffrey’s words. You shook your head, not believing it. Sandor was a good fighter, one of the best swordsmen in the seven kingdoms. 

“You’re lying!” You yelled and walked further away from Joffrey. 

“Then go out to the field and see him for yourself. He’s dead. He did his job to protect me. You can have him back now. I have no use for him anymore.” Joffrey lied to get that reaction he’s been craving. He smiled when he saw you crying. 

“No!” You cried as you covered your mouth. You’re about to walk out of the tent to see it for yourself. “You aren’t going anywhere.” Joffrey screamed and grabbed a hold of your arm, pulling you back inside. 

He pushed you against the table and you let out a whimper when you felt the cold steel of his dagger under your chin. 

“Tell me the truth? Is he really dead?” Joffrey just sighs at you as he pushes the tip of the dagger under your chin making you wince. He smiles when he sees he cut your skin, a trail of blood starts to run down the blade of his dagger. 

“He is dead. You want to know what his last words were?” Joffrey asked with a smile as tears ran down your face. 

“He said. Fuck the whore princess.” Joffrey laughed at you. Joffrey's smile disappeared when you slapped him across the face making him cry out. 

“Fuck you! You fucking bastard.” You yelled at him. Joffrey growled and you let out a gasp when you felt Joffrey’s hand hold your shoulder. 

Looking at Joffrey’s face, you felt frozen for a moment. The anger on his face washed away and a look of panic came across his face. He took a step back and looked down at your chest. Following his gaze, you looked down and saw the hilt of the dagger. Taking a breath, the pain came rushing through you. He stabbed you in the chest with the dagger. Joffrey shook his head as he looked at you. 

“Joffrey.” You cry out and fall down on your knees as you cry out in pain. Joffrey ran out of the tent leaving you behind. You were left alone, you looked down to see blood start to stain the front of your dress. You can feel the blood flowing down your body, you let out a moan of pain with each breath you took. 

You didn’t even hear the commotion outside of the tent as you fell to the ground on your back. You stared at the ceiling of the tent as you cried. Your vision grew blurry, you didn’t hear someone coming in. You didn’t hear the shouts and the sound of someone walking inside. Blinking the tears, you were met with your father’s face. You see his lips moving but no words are coming out. 

You feel so cold now. You let out a groan when you felt someone grabbing a hold of you. Robert started to cry as he held you in his arms. 

Robert shook his head when he saw you were trying to speak but blood started to come out of the corner of your mouth.  He flinched when you started to cough up blood.  The only thing you can do is stare up at him. You were dying and it brought tears to your eyes. You were dying and he wouldn’t know what happened. Robert felt your hand on his cheek as you used all the strength you had left in you. 

“Joff- ery.” Robert frowned when you spoke. "Joffrey."

“Jof-fery did it. H-he is a-a bastard.” You cried as your vision grew dark. “He is a bastard.” Robert felt you go limp in his arms after you said those words. 

He calls out your name as he picks your head up. Something broke Robert is half and he relived the day he was told that Lyanna Stark was murdered. A scream came from inside the tent that made Robert’s army freeze. They all saw how the prince came running out bumping into his father. Robert had commanded Joffrey to stay put and that he will have a word with him after he spoke with you. Jamie yelled at Joffrey to come back when he saw Joffrey mounting the nearest horse. Joffrey rode out as Sandor came walking with a group, he had retrieved his sword and walked back to the base. He stopped when he saw Joffrey riding away and looked ahead when he heard a scream. 

Sandor quickly walked to the white horse he saw you on. He began to breathe quickly when he saw you weren’t on it. He looked around and flinched when he heard Robert’s scream once more. Everyone looked at the tent, all frozen because they never heard Robert scream like this. Sandor shouted your name, not caring what people would think or say. He had to find you. He shouted once more before walking inside of the tent passing Jamie. 

Sandor froze when he entered. He took a step back bumping into Jamie. The King Slayer gasped when he saw the sight of Robert holding your dead body in his arm. Robert sobbed against your neck. Sandor watched how your body trembled with each sob Robert made. Your eyes were open and staring at ceiling. Arms flared out, blood started to pool on the ground and cover Robert’s armor but he didn’t care. Your father held you in his arms. 

Jamie saw the dagger in your chest when Robert pulled away from you to move your hair out of your face. 

“Where is he?” Robert hissed. Sandor and Jamie remained silent. “Where is that blonde bastard?” The look of absolute fear appeared on Jamie’s face. 

The knights outside quickly hushed down when they saw Sandor walk out of the tent. He dragged his sword on the ground as he walked to the nearest tree. Dropping the sword completely he ignored the questions thrown at him. They all looked at themselves when they saw The Hound with tears rolling down from his face. Sandor was in complete shock. His bottom lip trembled as he cried. 

“Where is he?” Robert shouted in the tent and Jamie came out walking backwards. Robert had his sword aimed at him.

“This is a mistake. Joffrey wouldn’t do this.” Jamie explained but the look in Robert’s eyes. Jamie knew it was no use, Robert wanted revenge. 

“Arrest him.” Robert yelled looking at his men. “Wait-this has nothing to do with me.” Jamie yelled as they tackled him down to the ground. Sandor looked over his shoulder when he heard Robert. 

“The person who brings me Joffrey Lannister will be rewarded.” Robert's words rang out and the sound of Jamie screaming no was all that Robert needed. You told him the truth. A few knights had begun to ride back to King’s Landing. 

Joffrey was indeed a bastard. 

Sandor felt like an empty shell as he rode back to King's Landing. The cut on his arm was numbed, the banging in his head was nothing compared to the emptiness he felt in his heart. His blood shot eyes were glued to the wagon a few feet in front of him. Robert rode his horse as he led another with a wagon attached to it. He laid you there when they started to get ready to ride back. The knights that stayed bowed their heads when Robert came out of the tent with you in his arms. Robert covered you with a blanket, his hands shook as he checked you were strapped in. 

Sandor can see the outline of your body, your body moved whenever there was a bump in the road. He had shut his eyes when he saw the blood seeping through the blanket. Robert decided to ride through the gates of the back of the castle. The servants and stable boys were all waiting to tend the wounded and the horses. Robert got off his horse and saw Cersei walking towards him with a frown when she noticed Jamie was chained. 

“What is the meaning of this? Joffrey has barricaded himself in his room. He won’t open the door. My brother has been arrested.” Cersei yelled at him. She was met with a slap across her face that made her fall to the ground. 

“Is Joffrey mine?” Robert asked, looking down at her. Cersei’s eyes widened in surprise but she hid it with a look of anger. 

“Don’t you fucking lie to me.” Cersei flinched under his gaze and looked away. She looked ahead at his horse and noticed a wagon with a body on it. 

“That bastard killed my daughter.” Robert yelled, grabbing Cersei by the hair and dragged her to the wagon. Cersei yelled in pain as he dragged her over. Robert ripped the blanket off of your body and pushed Cersei down on her knees in front of you. All she did was stare as the servants behind her scream in terror at the sight of you. Your servants began to cry and fell on their knees from shock. 

Cersei just stared in shock, Robert grew angry when she didn't show any emotions. Cersei yelped when Robert grabbed a hold of her blonde hair again. Jamie screamed across from, screaming at Robert to let her go. 

“Your grace, what's the meaning of this?” Jon Arryn, the hand of the King said as he walked along with the maester to Robert. 

Jon Arryn froze when he saw you. He looked at Robert and at Cersei on the floor. Robert kept staring at her as Jon started to yell at everyone to leave. The stable boys grabbed the horses and brought them to the stables while the servants tried to cover their cries. 

“Chain her with her brother.” Robert told Jon Arryn. The news of your death was not announced until two days later. Those two days seemed to be a nightmare to most. Robert had caused a rampage in the castle. Jamie and Cersei Lannister were arrested. Robert had the doors of Joffrey’s chambers broken down and the knights grabbed a hold of the blonde boy. They found him hiding under his bed. He screamed with all his might as they dragged him down the hall. Tommen and Marcella were kept guarded in the Red Keep, they had Jon Arryn to thank for. Robert had become ruthless and wanted every Lannister executed including the children. 

Sandor stayed in his room those two days. He locked himself. He ignored the shouts and the screams from Joffrey who was being dragged to the dungeons. He ignored the knocks from your servants. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to speak to anyone. He laid on his bed, covering his face with his pillow as he sobbed. He screams into the pillow trying to cover the sound. He cried until he fell asleep and woke up to do it all over again. 

He shouted at the person to fuck off when he heard a knock on the third day. His throat was sore from the screams. 

“It’s me, Sandor. It’s Ned Stark.” Sandor froze as Ned knocked once more. “I need to speak with you.” Sandor rose up from his bed and walked to the door. 

Sandor notices Ned has been crying as well. His eyes were red and he let the lord walk inside. Ned walked in, looking at the room before looking back at Sandor.

“Did she tell you-.” Sandor cuts Ned off with a nod as he shuts the door. 

“Very well then. I’m sure she didn’t tell you but she wanted me to tell you in case the plan fell through. She wanted me to give you a place in Winterfell, if you want too. Since Joffrey is still kept in the dungeon, you can come back with us after the funeral. I will arrange for some of my men to escort you to Winterfell unseen.” Sandor frowned. 

“She asked you?” Ned nodded with a small smile. “She knows you've been treated unfairly by Joffrey. She wrote to me before her death, in case something happened to please have a place for you. She loved you, I didn’t understand it at first but the way she spoke about you. She called you a good man, a man with honor.” 

Sandor shook his head. “I’m not a good man. I broke her heart because Joffrey threatened to have us exposed. He threatened to have her executed for being with me. For being with a dog, a second born son. It’s my fault she died. It’s all my fault.” Ned watched in silence as Sandor sat down on his bed and covered his face with his hands. 

“You didn’t kill her. Joffrey did. It’s not your fault. In the end, I know for a fact she knew you still loved her. She had to know because why would she send me a letter asking for safe haven for you if she couldn’t make it.” 

“The Lannister's trial will start soon. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to see their faces. Robert's decision is final on them.” Ned told him and left the room leaving Sandor in his thoughts. 

The trial ended with Jamie and Tyrion sent to the wall for their remaining days, it was thanks to their father, Tywin Lannister. He had rode to King’s landing demanding for his children's freedom but at the end. Tywin had begged for his sons to not be executed. 

“Kill all the bastards, for all I care.” Tywin said, ignoring Cersei's cries. “And your whore daughter?” 

Tywin looked at Robert and picked a decision that will haunt him for the rest of his life. “Do what you like, your grace. This is the last time she will tarnish the Lannister's name.” 

Before the trial ended, Robert called out for Tywin. “Take your sons to the wall, Lord Lannister and stay there with them.” Tywin’s face fell, all the Lannister's were punished for Joffrey’s doing. 

For the first time, the people in King’s Landing didn’t push and shove to see you or touch you. They stood in silence, some cried and others just watched as the knights carried your body in an open carriage. You laid on a bed of flowers, you wore a black and golden color dress as a tribute to your House. Your hands laid on top of your stomach as you laid there peacefully. 

Making it to the Red Keep, the knights carried you inside where the realm can give you their last goodbye to you. Everyone had gone home when Sandor visited you. He dropped his shoulders and he felt the tears well up in his eyes at the sight of you laying so still in the middle of the keep. Lit candles surrounded you and you had golden coins laid on top your eyes. He removed his sword and wineskin from his belt, placing it by the wall as he walked towards you. 

His hands shook as he tried to reach for your hand. He flinched when he felt how cold you were and stiffed. He grabbed it, ignoring it and bringing it up to his lips. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your knuckles. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He cries out. After a few minutes, Sandor clears his throat after saying his goodbyes to you. “I’m not going to Winterfell. We were supposed to go together.” He gently puts your hand back in place.

Before Sandor leaves, he looks down at you once more. “I love you. I will always love you.” 

Grabbing his sword and wineskin, he shuts the doors behind and walks down the steps of the Red Keep, he ignores the two bodies stung up across from him. He had no need to see Joffrey and Cersei again. He walked to the stable to find Ned and his men. Sandor walked to Stanger, giving his head a rub before looking at Ned. 

“Are you sure?” The Lord of Winterfell asked him. Sandor nodded at him. 

“He just needs some time when it comes to new people. He’s a war horse, fast and strong.” Ned nodded before reaching his hand out for Stranger to smell it. 

“We will take good care of him. Rob, my oldest needs a good horse. I swear Stranger will be well taken care of.” Sandor gives Ned the reins of Stranger and pats him once more as goodbye. Sandor watches as Ned and his men begin to travel back to the North. He wasn't worry about giving Stranger away, Sandor knew Ned will be true to his word. Stranger will be taken care of by his new owner.  

Sandor doesn't tell anyone where he’s going off too. He walks out of King's Landing and walks through the forest to the edge of the cliff where he saw the sun was setting. Removing his sword and wineskin, he sits down and leans back against the tree as he remembers the sound of your laughter. This is the place, the place where you kissed him for the first time. You had managed to convince him to take you out after being cooped up in the castle. He was sitting on a rock as you gave him a wineskin out of your bag. It was out of nowhere but you had walked towards him catching him by surprise and you were at the perfect height to kiss him. 

Sandor grabs the wineskin he brought and brings it up to his nose to smell it. He looks ahead at the scenery with a smile. Maybe it was the gods showing him a vision, or perhaps it was all in his head but he can see himself with you at the same spot on the rock where you kissed him. He had returned those kisses, gathering you up in his arms and both of you stayed there for a while. He forced himself to drink the wine as he stared ahead watching the sunset. He wanted to be with you. Throwing the empty wineskin, he looks down at his hands. His eyesight blurred and he looked up to find himself back in your room. 

“Your hands are huge, Sandor.” He looks to his right to see you under the covers, naked. He notices the look on your face, the love bites on your chest were fresh. He lets you grab a hold of hand and compares it with yours.

“My hands aren’t not huge. You're just small.” Sandor comments as you raise his hand with your up in the air as the sunlight of the morning shined through the window of your chambers. Sandor had grabbed your hand and rolled over on top of you making you laugh as he kissed your neck. 

Ser Gregor stood next to Sandor’s body. They finally found him after four days later when he received news of Sandor's disappearance. His men found him, found his body laying against a tree, with the sun beaming down on him. One of his men brought the wineskin near Sandor's body to Ser Gregor. Bringing it up to his nose, Ser Gregor makes a face when he smells the poison. 

“Let’s take him back home.” Ser Gregor said, looking down at his younger brother one more time. It's the first time he had seen his brother so at peace. Sandor had died with a smile on his face.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<- Chapter 2

Taglist: @federalclassroom @snixx2088 @just-a-burning-memory @darknight3904 @watercolorskyy @@nothing2113 @thyjinji @norakbubbles @mrs-marvel-addict @ellesmythe

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

+:✿ Chapter - 1 ✿:+ New Pretty Cage

next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of animal death, alcohol consumption, mention of infant death, mention of parent(s) death, loras being very lgbtq , mention of arranged marriage. 

Leaving the Eyrie at first was exciting. You hated to admit it, you screamed at your father for even suggesting it, you cried like a child, but it was. The Eyrie was hardly a home, It was cold, isolated, and a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Kings Landing was warm, crowded, and offered a future outside of living in the past. 

Your father, Jon Arryn, was more than optimistic that you would find a suitor worthy of your name. Your aunt and now step mother, Lysa Arryn was elated at the opportunity of ridding her and Robin’s lives of you. 

After the death of your mother, Aemma of house Tully, your father married her sister, your aunt. You could have stomached it, you could have even forgiven it, if it weren’t for the fact your mother died during her labors of childbirth. 

As you and your father rode in the carriage, your mind couldn’t help but think of it. You’d spent your mothers entire pregnancy hoping she’d bear a son. You even prayed, prayed to the seven Gods whom you didn’t even believe in. You had hoped if the child was a boy, you wouldn’t have to be wed off to the best house name possible. 

What's worse, not only did the labors kill your mother, but it also killed your brother. You’d prayed for a brother and the Gods gave you a brother. But they took him away and your mother with him. 

You had spent days sulking, wallowing in grief. Unbeknownst to you, all the while your father was arranging his own marriage with Lysa. A son followed behind soon, Robin, the brat. You hated him, even if you were the same blood.

“We approach,” your father said under his breath. It was enough to bring you back to reality. 

“How long will I be here?” You asked, knowing the answer. Your father shot you a look with a furrowed brow, as if to say, “You already know.” You nodded as your concerned gaze turned to a glare as you looked out the carriage into the city. You lost your sweetness after your mother died, you were in no rush to get it back. 

“Who am I to wed?” You asked flatly, your stoic expression and eyes filled with venom shot outside of the carriage and away from your father. 

He sighed and looked upon you softly. “The Baratheon boys are eligible I suppose,” before he could finish you began. “Blondes, I have a distaste for blonde men.” You say as you rest your chin on your fist, still staring outside of the carriage. Your father let out a sigh about to lecture you on the importance of uniting families and the unimportance of such trivial things like personal happiness. But you cut him off, you look at him with eyes filled with venom, “I know you’ve a plan. You don’t go into anything blind.” he let out a small huff of a laugh as you arrived at the impressive castle. Your eyes did move from your fathers however. “You are just like your mother. Filled with angry eyes and hard questions.” Your eyes narrowed a bit, as the door to the carriage opened. 

“Welcome Lord Arryn, welcome Lady (Y/N)” 

Later that evening, you met the Lannisters and Baratheons over dinner. 

You took note of the “Baratheon boys” your father mentioned. Sons of the King. From all those story books you'd read as a girl you would have thought that Princes’s would be handsome, kind, gentle, and brave. However you weren’t a naive child anymore. So the scrawny and boyish looking Joffrey didn’t surprise you, but did disappoint you. And Tommen was boyish too however Tommen was just that, a boy, a child. You found yourself praying again, praying you wouldn’t be subjected to an arranged marriage between either of them. 

The dinner was mostly spent with your father and Robbert yammering, and occasionally people needing to remind you that you were being spoken to. 

It was strange, on one hand you were excited to be out of the isolation of the Eyrie, on the other hand you couldn’t care less about the people around you. That was until the royal family's guard stepped into the room. The man was giant, standing at least 6 '6, his shoulders were so broad he had to step into a room at an angle. You felt your eyes linger on the figure just a second too long. Reverting it back to your hands in your lap. 

You felt her cheeks blush, you felt yourself get embarrassed by this. But the thing is you’ve never seen a man like that. You never saw a man that big, a man that broad, ever. The Eyrie was secluded and maybe men from the vale were just shorter. Maybe this was a southern thing. Before you could roll the thought around your brain for long, the hulking figure walked to the opposite side of the room, it was only then when you noticed his face lit by the candle lights.You saw the left side of his face first. His face was masculine, there was nothing about his appearance that was feminine. As you analyzed his face, he turned it towards you which is when you saw the opposite of his face. It was horribly scarred, all the hair on his face was burnt off and ribboned in scarred tissue. 

It was beautiful. You’d never seen anything like it. 

You didn’t break your gaze as it was intertwined with the giant in the room. His deep brown eyes seemed somewhat confused with something about you. You felt the blush returning to your cheeks and nose as you studied him. You only broke your improper gaze once you felt the dread you feel everytime your fathers gaze comes towards you. You were able to look away before he noticed. He grabbed ahold of your hand and shot you a half hearted smile hoping your sour mood would magically improve with this minimal affection. However the daggers in your eyes did not surrender. 

You spent the following days walking around the castle, hoping for another glimpse at the man everyone feared so terribly. You asked your father about him, “He’s the royal family's dog, both the Cleganes are. They are not the kind of people I wish for you to be around.” You rolled your eyes, but the information you got from anyone else was no better. His monstrous and vile actions. His temper is so fierce he’d kill anyone without a second thought. But when you saw his eyes, those deep brown eyes, they weren’t mean or angry they were sad. They were scared.

Days in this shit city were long, and often just as boring as the days in the Eyrie. Only instead of a shivering cold there was a sticky warmth. Instead of Lysa and Robin there was Cersei and Joffrey. At least Robin didn’t kill little creatures and beat girls for fun. 

There were some advantages to living here however. There were more books, more food, more drinks, more dresses, more music. Living so high in the mountain such luxuries were sparse. Luxuries like friends, of which you felt you gained a few. The Tyrells for example were the only people you felt you could be truly honest with. Specifically Loras, there was a sense of vulnerability you two shared with each other. Both of you are unhappy with the prospect of marriage, arranged specifically. You remember the time he confessed to you that he was in love with a man. You walked through the garden together, those times became special. The only times when you and he could speak plainly. You always thought of how lovely it would be to have a friend, someone to trust solely. You always thought it would be a woman but you couldn’t complain. 

You held onto his hands as he confessed. He said he wished he could change, to not be what he was. 

“Never,” You held onto his hands tighter “Never wish for such things. Change even a single thing of you and you aren’t you. And you are my friend, my dearest friend.” You whispered, he embraced you tightly. You however had a slight growing distaste for Renly, a man who brought such tears to your friend. 

To anyone secretly observing, it was courting. To you and he, it was friendship. In its purest way. 

Maybe your father was true to his promise, he’d find you a man whom you’d love, a man who was brave and gentle. Only this love was different. As he was the only person you could trust.

The two of you thought of a plan for you and the wedding of one another. It was a good plan, the two of you would be bound by love and respect of which you both shared for the other. And the two of you would be free to find romantic, and sexual love freely. Loras teased you’d be able to fuck all the KingsGaurd if The Hound did not please you. It made you giggle but blush in embarrassment like a little girl.

Honestly you and he would have had the most healthy relationship of all the realm, and the only difference would be the two of you never consummated. But who would need to know? 

You almost went through with it after the death of your father. If it weren’t for the fact Cersei forced her company upon you so much, you could have ran to the nearest septon and made your marriage official. But Cersei never left you alone, you were either with her, or one of her ladies. And, and you hated to admit it, you’d miss those butterflies in your belly anytime you caught The Hounds gaze. It makes your cheek red and your belly burn. And you loved it, it might have been the only reason you could have lived during those days. You spent anytime you got alone with Loras talking about The Hound, a topic he grew bored of quickly. So you also spoke of your marriage. 

However these plans changed at the arrival of your cousin Sansa. Upon her arrival you saw a girl who would never handle the city she was stepping into with such naive big eyes and fairy tale fantasies of her future. You agreed with Olenna that Loras should attempt to court Sansa prior to her wedding with Joffrey, one last attempt at her freedom. You began to care less and less of your own.

Selfless yes, but stupid. 

During the tournament you sat beside Sansa, and her father Nedd Stark who had such an affinity to your father apparently it was transferred to you now that he was dead and gone. She begged her father to stop the tournament. You wanted to roll your eyes at it, but you also wished someone would stop it as well. The Mountain, Gregor Clegane, scared you. He was different from his brother. The Hound was almost as big but he had a stoic and sad nature to him, even though everyone told you to beware. The brother you feared was Gregor, he was unstable, rabid, and frightened you to no end. You’d hoped your plan of him using your mare, who was in heat, would work. 

It was a trick, but a good one, if it worked. And it did, it upsets and confuses Gregor's mount. Gregor was thrown off his horse. You felt a wave of relief as Sansa stood and cheered. What you didn’t account for was Gregor's reaction. Gregor, absolutely furious, decapitated his own horse. You, still seated, grabbed ahold of Sansa’s arm as Gregor made his way to Loras. You sat and watched, you hoped someone, anyone would intervene. Renly, Nedd, the King, anyone. 

Just as you were sure that was the end, “Leave him be!” The giant man behind you roared. The Hound swung his sword blocking a fatal blow to Loras. You sat there, your eyes not wide but narrowed and brows furrowed. You studied the battle between these two brothers. You wondered why, why would this man risk his own life just to save one of Loras? If he was the merciless monster that everyone had claimed, why do this? As you watched these men fight you noticed, the noble men all fought as they were trained, this man fought as he knew would kill. He fought with experience. 

You couldn’t help but find it exciting. 

As The King called off this fight, The Hound dodged a fatal blow he simultaneously bowed to the King. This made your lips part slightly as you struggled to conceal a smile. 

As Loras named The Hound champion everyone stood and clapped, but not you. 

You sat and stared at the man, your cheeks with a renewed blush on them. You smiled softly at him, his gaze soon met your own. Once met, it was hard to break. 

You managed to weasel your way out of the sight of the Starks and Lannisters to check on Loras. As you made your way to the stables you didn’t find Loras but The Hound. You felt like you walked into a brick wall as you saw the Giant drinking from a wine skin sitting against the stable that held your own horse. He didn’t look at you as he said “Your pretty boy isn’t here, girl.” as he took another long swig of the wineskin in his fist. 

“I’m sure I don’t know who you refer to.” You lie as you slowly walk over to your horse. 

“Fuck you don’t.” He hissed  “Dirty trick you and that boy pulled.” 

“No honor in tricks.” You say feeding your horse some feed from your palm. 

“Honor,” He scuffs “only cunts believe in that shit.” your brows raised, you’d never heard a man curse so much. They rarely did in the company of a Lady. 

“There was honor in what you did, It was quite brave, Ser.” 

“I'm not a ser, I already told your pretty boy that.” 

“Loras is not my ‘pretty boy’” you said in a mocking tone making the hound crack a small smirk. 

“Fuck off,” He scuffed, “Round that boy you’re as in heat as that bitch mare in that stable.” 

“Is that why you came here? You sit in front of my mare's stable because you wanted to accuse me of having relations with a friend of mine?” You eyes shift from your mare to glare at him with disgust. His eyes locked with yours. He hardly needed to look up at you to see your eyes. 

“I don’t like the way you look at me.” He said flatly

“I don’t like the way you talk to me.” Your eyes went back to your mare. “Don’t talk to me like that and I won’t look at you like that.”

“Don’t matter how you look at me, just that you do.” He said as he took another swig. 

You looked down contemplating what that could have meant as you looked over to him. 

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ tell ya not to do that?” He growled however your gaze did not falter. 

“You did not, you said you don’t like it.” You asserted mockingly, not at all scared of this man beside you, even though you maybe should be.

He stood, showing just how small you were in comparison to him. As he loomed over you, his eyes raked over every part of you, avoiding your eyes. 

“It will serve you well to listen to a man. Save yourself some pain. Some men, like to hit stubborn girls like you. Men who like to beat them.” He said in a somewhat more gentle tone than before. 

Your eyes met him once more, as you looked up at him, you realized he’d never been so close to you. 

“And what of you? Are you one of those men?” You asked teasing him, testing his patience 

“Maybe,” he rasped “You don’t know the things I’ve done,” 

You turned your body towards him to face him completely. 

“You should be scared of me, of any man in this shit city.” 

“I should be, but I’m not. I tried to be, but I can’t make myself feel frightened by you.” You said fidgeting with your necklace. 

“I’m a killer,” He wrapped his fingers around your throat, but his grasp was hardly there at all, almost like he was hovering his hand there. “I could crush your pretty throat.” 

“Do it.” You said quickly, His brows furrowed, “You think I want to live here? Do it.” you held onto his wrist, needing both hands to grasp his thick wrist fully. “No, you won’t hurt me.” You say softly. 

His hand runs down your throat and lays flat engulfing your chest in his palm as his fingers laid on your collar bone. He felt your heartbeat for a moment, savoring it.  “No, no little bird, I won't hurt you.” He conceded painfully, the name he called you made your cheeks blush. With that he turned away from you and stomped out of the stables. 

You felt yourself release a breathe, fuck, you thought to yourself. 

Few questions remained in your mind, ‘Why was he so gentle?’  and ‘Why did he make you feel this way?’

NOTE: Hi, this is my first time writing any fanfiction- believe me it will get better. We will be fuckin I promise we will be laying it down girls!! This one is mainly just world building. Let me know if there's anything you’d like to see going forward! 

Xoxo 

Bambi <3

[thebookbutterfly]

°•. Sandor Clegane .•°

Fan fiction recommendations from BB’s Bookshelf. All my favourite Sandor Clegane works in one place.

⭐️ = one of my favourites

ONESHOTS:

🦋 Secret Wife [Fluff] In which the reader and Sandor are married but no one knows. When Tormund starts hitting on you, Sandor’s jealousy gets the best of him and the secret comes out. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Punishment? [Fluff] Forced marriage trope. After Joffrey forces you to marry the Hound as a punishment you learn the giant of a man is kinder than he looks. Love ensues. So much for a punishment. << Female Reader >>

🦋 In the North [Fluff] Established Relationship. After The Battle of Blackwater Sandor and the reader were forced to separate. Fluff ensues when you both reunite in the North. Soft Sandor. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Sharing a Bed with the Hound [Fluff] You and Sandor arrive at the inn to find that there is only one bed. You refuse to let him sleep on the floor. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Not Such A Lady [Fluff] Domestic Sandor x Reader. Sandor is shocked to find out just how many swear words his lady knows. << Female Reader, Swearing >>

🦋 keeping warm [Fluff] You’re freezing and Sandor is practically a furnace. Cuddling for warmth. << Gender Neutral Reader >> ⭐️

SERIES:

Coming Soon!

DRABBLES:

Coming Soon!

IMAGINES:

🦋 Bear [Fluff] Everyone calls Sandor the Hound, but to you he seems more like a bear. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

[poisonsage808]

ModernAU!Sandor Clegane x Reader (III)

trigger warnings: references to sex, drinking, swearing, gregor and gregor involved trauma, mentions of car crash, mentions of therapy, angst

• Sandor asks if you have allergies just to be extra sure you don’t die on his watch

• You may or may not be joking when you tell him sesame seeds because you send laughing emojis afterwards

• He’s not risking it, the seasoning is sealed into a plastic bag and put in the very back of the highest shelf of his kitchen

• Ends up glad he did, you’re very allergic to sesame seeds you just find the story behind it hilarious

• “I’m eating pasta and suddenly- hives! Mytongue was so swollen I couldn’t talk. The doctor does like three blood tests and can’t figure it out. Mom’s livid, she leaves and comes back with every ingredient for her pasta and has me eat it. Everyone was freaking out the whole time, my dad kept saying ‘who in the seven hell's allergic to that?’. I eat that tiny seed and blow up like a balloon again. When we got home I looked at my dad and said ‘who the fuck’s allergic to sesame seeds?’. First time ever he let me swear.”

• Sandor actually finds the story entertaining but he goes home and decides to throw out the seeds. Just to be extra, extra safe.

• It’s really cute how nervous you both are over the fact it’s a “date” and not a “hangout”. An actual for real life date!

• You’ve had exactly two serious partners before but something or the other led to a breakup. Then there wasn’t much time for dating in college, the one person you were into then didn’t want more from you than to “scratch an itch”

• Which is more what Sandor’s used to. One night stands, “friends” with benefits (benefits part was accurate at least) was his comfort zone but Sandor’s been on dates before! He can count them on one hand but hey, it’s more than he ever expected to receive

• You have a cheek hurting smile on your face when he opens the door and one reusable bag in each hand. Sandor steps back to let you inside, closing the door afterwards and following you into the kitchen.

• “Tell me ya didn’t carry all that with you on the bus.”

• (He’s offered to drive you around if he was able. He really hates knowing you rely on the bus at night, especially when you joke that you’re 99% confident you’re sitting next to a murderer. It’s the only time he doesn’t appreciate those jokes)

• “I didn’t,” You reassure him while placing the bags on the counter, “My roommate dropped me off.”

• Sandor grunts and steps directly behind you, his chest almost brushing against your back, so he can peer into the bags you’re unpacking. He can clearly see the red dusting your cheeks but doesn’t comment on it, which you’re grateful for. On his counter is two six packs of beer, a northern brand you’ve seen him drink before as well as a bottle of fruity, southern wine.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk?”

You scoff out a laugh, “Please, this isn’t even enough to get you tipsy.”

Finally you start to pull out a neatly wrapped box with a bow on top, shiny blue and greens.

“What’s this?” Sandor reaches for it and barks out in surprise when you smack his hand away.

“Your present— don’t you dare open it until I say so!” You demand while pointing a finger at him.

Now, Sandor didn’t like being told what to do… but he really liked when you were bold like that around him... so he rolls his eyes and surrenders his hands while he stalks further into the kitchen

• He lived in a single story house. Three closed doors, the one that was open was obviously a bathroom. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen, a black leather couch sat across from a fair sized tv. There was no dining table but the countertop had two barstools on the other side

• It was clean and very Sandor but very.. spacious. Empty. There were hardly any pictures or personal touches and that made your heart ache for inexplicable reasons

• The kitchen seems the most used out of everything else you’ve seen so you slink over to Sandor’s side.

• On the stove is a large pot that steams as he stirs its containments. Soup from what you can see, it’s colorful and smells amazing! You tell him so

• You occupy Sandor’s right side, he immediately knows that expression on your face means you want to ask him a question,

“Get no more than ten, make ‘em count.”

“How long have you been cooking?”

He hums, glancing at you then the clock on the oven, “An hour? Maybe.”

Your smile returns with a small giggle, “I meant, like, over your whole life.”

Sandor gives you a look that makes you feel smaller than you already are next to him, “No ya didn’t.”

You giggle and feign innocence. It doesn’t work so with a roll of your eyes and always that grin you admit, “No, I didn’t, but now I’m curious.”

“Always been good at it. Father said it was women’s work but,” The man talks as he carefully maneuvers around you, pulling open a drawer you stood in front of and plucking a metal spoon from it, “At the academy, there’s no women to cook. The boys take turns making meals.”

• (Sandor mentioned this before, the military academy he lived in from 14-18 years old, however it was the first time he’s ever brought up his father. He had to have one of course but sometimes you wondered if Sandor Clegane just appeared one day, he’s literally not once brought up his family!)

• You want to ask more but the minute you open your mouth, Sandor holds a spoonful of soup in front of your face. His palm hovers under your chin, to catch any drops but you’re painfully aware how he’s deliberately not touching you

“S’not poison,” He smirks, “Taste it.”

• You hate the way your knees go weak. Quickly you accept the sample and invite yourself to sit on the counter as he moves away

“Too spicy? Yer face is pretty red, killer.” Sandor chuckles and it makes your blush worsen.

• When you get control of yourself, you do tell him that it tastes amazing. He reaches over the counter with ease placing two full bowls beside each other then soon after a loaf of bread joins them

“Y’know it’s cheating if you bought the bread.”

Sandor sounds equally smug, “Didn’t cheat then.”

• He made bread. For you. Do you know how long it takes to do that!? Sandor Clegane baked bread for your date!

• You take pictures of the food before digging in. Sandor gives you a funny look about it and says, “Gettin’ that proof of your last meal, killer?”

Your grin widens at the nickname, “Hate to disappoint, but it looks really good and I wanted a picture— thank you, by the way.”

He shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal, “I take it you’re not a cook.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a pro at turning on my oven! Wait, that sounded dirty…” Sandor chuckles and shakes his head, “I just don’t have the time so I usually eat at work. Free bagels for breakfast and I’m at a job site with Dan, he caters for whoever’s there.”

“If you wanna keep that cafe job, y’might wanna stop stealin’,” He chides with a smirk, “Your boss already has it out for you.”

You laugh and cover your mouth to hide the fact you almost choked on the soup he made, “He won’t fire me, he probably won’t even let me quit! I’ll be chained up in the back and only let out to work morning shifts, slipping you notes to rescue me.”

Sandor snorts as he stands up and moves into the kitchen to get seconds and a drink. While on the other side of the counter, he opens the wine you brought but only pours one glass, setting it in front of you.

You exaggerate a gasp and cover your mouth to feign shock, “How the tables have turned!”

“Oh shut it.” He rolls his eyes and turns to his fridge so you can’t see his smirk.

• Sandor finds himself time and time again relieved that you understand his personality. There’s moments where his bark borderlines on an actual growl but you haven’t been deterred. Not yet anyways. It’s.. an odd but a welcome change.. kind of like you

• Dishes in the sink, two glasses of wine and four beers later, your questions have surpassed the limit of ten. Sandor unintentionally turned it into a drinking game, claiming it was the only way to tolerate your curiosity. It’s drink or answer and as suspected he’s much more sober than you at this point. You’re holding your alcohol well, calling yourself an open book and nibbling on bread to keep up.

You sat on opposite ends of his couch. You on the right, crossed legged, holding the cup with two hands to be extra cautious while Sandor leaned back in his spot, one long arm draped along the back of the couch and his other hand occupied by a full beer can.

Suddenly you gasp, “Lemme see an old picture of you!”

“That’s not a question,” Sandor muses, “and no.”

“Can I see one? Look, I’ll find one of me and it’ll be a fair trade!”

He wants to say no. He could say no. He’s never had trouble saying the fucking word before! Sandor hadn’t willingly taken a picture in years, the most recent one he had was taken at the DMV because it was mandatory. He knows you wouldn’t battle him or whine if he flat out declined but he doesn’t know why he can’t

“I’d.. have to look.” He scratches the scruff of his beard.

You had your phone out, scrolling deep through your camera roll when you noticed the energy in the room shift. You made him uncomfortable. Your grin faltered but you were determined to save the moment, dropping your phone to the space between you and waving your hand around. “Wait, I wanna change my question! What did you wanna be when you were younger?”

Sandor grimaces and takes a swig from the bottle he held. Another sore subject, nice going genius. Fuck. You chew the inside of your cheeks trying to think of how to fix this but Sandor interrupts your thoughts,

“Y’know, ya ask me a million questions a day and not once have you asked me about it.”

You don’t need elaboration to know he’s talking about his scar. Your brows pinch together and any traces of a smile officially disappear, “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”

“‘n if I never wanted to?” His tone is bitter but not angry, “We’d just go on pretending it wasn’t there?”

You tap a finger against the glass before reaching for your phone, “I guess.. I kinda know what it feels like,” it takes less than a second to find the photo you were searching for and you hand it over to Sandor, “When people see you and make assumptions.”

He frowns at your reply but takes your phone and looks down at the picture you wanted him to see. The only familiar face is you, holding the handles of a wheelchair directly in front of you and sitting in it is a man.

“That’s my dad,” You point out. Sandor assumes and the woman standing to your right must be your mother, “I won’t pretend it’s the same at all but everyone would look at us like.. oh, poor (Y/L/N)’s. It.. sucked and I wasn’t even the one..” You sigh deeply and struggle to meet his eyes, “It sucked and I didn’t want to make you feel that way. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pretend your scar wasn’t there. I was hoping you would tell me if you ever decided to, I wanted to know you on your terms.”

You purse your lips to the side when Sandor hands your phone back to you. He breaks the silence by standing, “Wait here.” he commands softly. Something about his voice made you wonder if he thought you would leave.

Sandor takes his time in his room debating if he really wants to go through with this as he reaches into a tightly sealed plastic box. The night sure as hell couldn’t get any worse, why the fuck not he decides. So the man returns with a picture frame and offers it to you hesitantly, still standing. Young Sandor Clegane, 16 if you had to guess, in a perfectly pressed uniform and side cap, standing with his hands behind his back. The oldest in the picture, you assume is his dad, is on his left with a girl in a pale yellow dress. She’s the only one that's smiling, it’s weak but there. On Sandor’s right with a hand clasped on his shoulder is a man taller than everyone else.

He watches the way the corner of your lip quirks up as you study the picture. Sandor sits in the middle of the couch, still giving you a fair amount of space between you, and ghosts a finger above each person in the picture.

“My sister ‘n our father,” He hovers his index over the largest man and the name that comes is uttered with such hatred it freezes your blood, “That’s Gregor.”

From his other hand Sandor surrenders a faded polaroid, tinged with orange. The faces in it aren’t clear but you can make out the same people from above, this time everyone’s younger and a woman stands beside his father.

“Is that your mom?” You ask with a widening grin, “You look just like her.”

“Aye, that’s what everyone else said too. Gregor and Eleanor took after our father.”

Each blink you look between the pictures and your smile fades. In the older one, Sandor has no scar and a mother and in the other is the opposite.

“Mum knew somethin’ wasn’t right with him.” He sighs, “She tried tellin’ father but he wouldn’t listen, tried to take me and Eleanor one night but he stopped her. She left anyways.”

“I was six. I wanted to be a firefighter then, like Gregor did. He said we couldn’t both be.. said I didn’t have what it takes. One night Gregor waited ‘till our father and sister went to sleep, woke me up ‘n brought me into the yard. He lit a fire and just.. watched me try to put it out. When I realized I couldn’t, I went to get father and he grabbed me. Pushed me down and held my face in the fire ‘till father heard me screamin’.”

You stack the pictures over each other and slowly lean your head on Sandor’s shoulder. He turns his head slightly, looking down at you and somehow finds it easier to continue talking, “Father put it out and took me to the hospital. Told everyone I was playin’ with matches, started the fire got what I deserved. I hated my mum for leavin’ when she did but I took the first chance I got to do the same.”

You hear him tapping on the picture frame before your eyes fall to his hand, “This was the last time I saw my sister. Eleanor went missin’ then father died and left everything to Gregor... Just him and I now.”

“Sandor...” Your voice was so… soft and hesitant.

Anxious he’s heard you, irritated, flirtatious but gentle? Never before has Sandor Clegane felt the way he did when he felt your body shift beside him. Hovering over his lap now, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest and ringing in his ears, the lump in his throat that threatens to choke him and the unfamiliar sting in his eyes that he hasn’t felt in… Gods, when was the last time he cried?

“I’m so sorry they didn’t protect you, Sandor.” You whispered, chin on his shoulder.

Sandor’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know what to say or do but he doesn’t want you to go so he rests a hand on your back, “‘s fine.”

“It’s not but I know you’re only saying that ‘cause you’re done talking about it.”

You’ve been hanging around him too much if you know that. It’s uncomfortable talking about his past, his family and suddenly he feels immensely guilty for dumping it all onto you.

“Crappy first date, huh?”

“Shut up.” But your arms tighten around him and he can hear the weak smile in your voice.

Slowly yet all too soon you pull away to sit back on the couch, only this time with your thighs touching Sandor’s.

“Thank you for telling me. Have you told anyone else about that?” You ask carefully, unsure of how much more he would allow you to pry.

“My shrink,” he admits with another nervous scritch at his beard.

“Oh, that’s great—!” You slap a hand over your mouth, “Sorry, I just meant it’s great you have a therapist. Y’know because a lot of… I had one! I-I’ll just stop talking.”

Sandor eases your tension with a playful eye roll, “Don’t start now, I just got used to your yappin’.”

There’s an awkward but light chuckle shared between the two of you. Slowly you rest your head back against Sandor’s arm, “It’s not a crappy date, by the way. Well? I don’t think so. We never did small talk, it’s about time we told each other our tragic backstories.”

The man hums before lifting his arm to tuck you into his side, silently elated when you fold your legs under your butt and turn your body to lay your head on his chest, “Your turn then?”

“Mine is a lot shorter, it happened when I was still in highschool. Dad told me for weeks to take my car into the shop and I didn’t. It’s stupid looking back, I wish I listened and just did it the first time. Anyways, we argued, finally I said I’d go but he took the keys and said he'd do it himself.. and the brakes gave out on the way. A truck hit him and totaled the car. Mom and I waited in the hospital for hours until he was out of surgery. The doctor said he wouldn’t walk again and I, ugh, I vomited. The whole way up to see dad I was so sure he would say it’s all my fault, or I told you so… He said he was so glad it wasn’t me.”

You didn’t realize you’d been picking at your nails until Sandor’s spare hand came to stop it, gently engulfing your fingers into the warmth of his palm.

“Now you’re scared to drive.”

“Now I’m scared to drive. The whole thing fucked me up. I had a therapist too for a couple years but when I moved here I felt fine enough to stop calling.”

Sandor scoffs out a laugh, “Isn’t that their job to tell ya if you’re fine or not?”

Luckily you’re unphased by his possible insensitivity but do feign annoyance, “I see your point but I got a bunch of tools and exercises for my anxiety, I dealt with my guilt, I just don’t wanna drive. Plus, it’s not like I can never go back or change my mind.” Your eyes dart to where Sandor holds both your hands in one of his, “What about you?”

He shrugs, “I’ll quit when he tells me I’m cured.”

The giggle that bubbles from you is tired but genuine. Isn’t it funny how drained someone can get just from talking?

Sandor smiles though you can’t see, “Alright, killer. Can we get back to your game now?”

“You mean you still want to play after I just ruined our date with it? I thought you would’ve kicked me out by now.”

“Didn’t ruin it,” he squeezes your hands reassuringly.

• After that hiccup, the tension in the air evaporated as your night together went on. Cuddled up on Sandor’s couch, conversation flowed as naturally as it did between you two, what with you doing most of the chatting or asking questions. Occasionally there was a choppy tangent of another intimate detail from one of you but nothing quite as heavy as before

• Odd, Sandor kept thinking to himself. Odd but not so uncomfortable that he wished the couch would swallow him whole so he could get away from the topic. Not just yet was it a welcomed change but he’ll admit it was easier than it ever has been. Still he was careful not to overshare

• Around 9pm your roommate texted and said they were on the way to pick you up. Sandor helped you gather your things and swore for a second time that he wouldn’t open the gift you brought him. He walked you to the door when you spun on your heel to stop him from opening it. He knew that damn expression so well, he groans while you grin like a madman.

“Last question, I promise! What are my odds of getting a second date?”

“Depends… Do ya count a work party as a date?”

You grin, knowing exactly where this is going, “Absolutely I do. Especially if it involves softball and especially, especially if we’re on opposite teams.”

♡ [I], [II], [III]

[malereader-inserts]

If Tomorrow Never Comes

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Sandor "The Hound" Clegane x Male!Reader Summary: Sandor is never a man of feelings, but he has a lot of feelings now. Word Count: 439 Request: Um, I see your post that if we have request then we can just request, alright so how about Sandor Clegane in reader funeral because he died in a battle. And everything that Sandor do it only brings memories when he was still alive, THANK YOUUUU AND I LOVE YOU 💚💚💚💚💚 A/n: SO SORRY IT WONT BE A LONG FIC.

"I know you loved him."

"Shut up."

There was silence between Sandor and Arya, he watches as hundreds of bodies lie in front of them. They couldn't give everyone a proper funeral after a war, but Sandor wished they did a proper funeral for you. But, he was being selfish, he cannot ask that because he was the only one who saw you special among the dead.

"He loved you back, you know?" Arya speaks after everyone started to make moves back into the castle walls, leaving the two of them alone.

"I know."

Sandor felt bitter, he could trade other people for you to be alive. He would happily give the Gods Jaime or Tormund, anyone just to have another moment with you.

He wants to drink the night away, but he can't because the best times of his life when he's drinking is when you are by his side. Moments like laughing at his stupid jokes and cracking some of your own, or if the mood was too dampened, then you would just enjoy each other's company.

When he picks up his sword he's thinking of you, how you would somehow appear out of nowhere with a smile upon your face, challenging him to a spar. You never won, but Clegane could see how you've improved over the years - one day, he had hoped that you would beat him, though now that day would never come.

Any battle meeting will never be the same when you're not around because you would always slip in a side eye, he tries his best not to laugh if he catches your eye. He always has to look anywhere but you, but your presence in the room makes him smile to himself.

He misses how you would say goodnight to him after walking to his door, how there was a soft glistening look within your eyes, they were soft and inviting. You never wanted to overstep his boundaries and when you did, he never minded. Just because it was you.

You were the only one for him.

He hates how he has regrets, he was living his life without any and when you waltzed in, everything changed.

He wished he had the courage to court you, but it was frowned upon, Loras got shit for it and he know he would get it even worst. There are a lot of unspoken words, many to you and to others, but mainly you.

Now, your time in the world is through and he has to face the world without you.

His heart breaks, it yearns for something that will never return to him.

[vdragoncatgirl]

Winter’s Dragonfire

chapter 1 - king’s landing

the hound/sandor clegane x targaryen female oc

roughly follows canon timeline (tv)

From a dinasty once defeated, a child with unmistakable silver hair was born in the frosted lands of the North. Her journey east awaits with a kiss of fire.

words: 3083

notes: short chapter! introductory! hope you all like it. also posted in AO3 (link below)

Tywin Lannister looked across the strategy table, and surrounded by his guards stood a scrawny looking young woman with a distraught look on her face. She wore simple riding clothes and was looking around frantically, perhaps trying to find a way to escape. The girl seemed to be in her late teens or early twenties and her skin was white as a ghost’s. She looked ahead with big pale green eyes, and an expressive face with strong features. What stood out most, though, was her hair: it was all the way long to her hips with uneven wavy ends, but above all, it was of silver colour, and it made her look exactly like a Targaryen.

— What’s your name, girl?

She jumped at the sound of his voice and locked eyes with Tywin.

— Rhaenys Snow. — she muttered, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

— So, Rhaenys Snow, what brings a young peasant woman riding alone straight into a war camp? — he looked intently at the girl with piercing clear eyes she couldn’t bear for long. Though there were guards and other men in the tent, it felt as if it was just the two of them.

— I was trying to get to the next port to the Narrow Sea when these men captured me. I have nothing to do with this war, I just happened to ride past this camp by accident. If I can get back on my horse I will be on my way immediately. — she said hastily, barely making one word from the other.

The Lannister men all scoffed. Rhaenys was starting to panic and could barely stand still.

— Do you believe yourself to be a Targaryen, girl?

She froze, that being the worst question the man could have asked at that moment. The simplest answer was: yes. But that was no simple situation, and she had no idea of what answer she could give that would decide between a bad and a horrible fate.

— If you really believe you are one, — Tywin did not wait for a response. — you must know what that means. You are certainly aware of what, or who, lies beyond the Narrow Sea in Essos where you were headed: a silver-haired girl just like yourself. Except she has true blood and will likely join in in the war for the iron throne. Think for a time and answer: do you still think you have nothing to do with this war?

Rhaenys stood silent. He had, somehow, seen into her mind in an admirable display of deduction. Though why else would someone so similar to a Targaryen be risking their lives to ride across Westeros in the middle of a war if not to get to Essos, where lived the only known Targaryen in the world? There was no point denying her intentions now. She just wanted that moment to end.

— Are you going to kill me now? — she whispered. That seemed like the only reasonable fate after such an awful interrogation.

Tywin scoffed.

— No, girl, I will not. Now that you’ve been seen here, the dragon woman will end up hearing all about you soon. Word travels, even I can’t stop that. There is no way of knowing if you truly are a Targaryen bastard, except from your silver hair, but when this reaches Daenerys’ ears, it will be as a fact. If she finds out you’re dead, gods know what she would try to do. Targaryens have a tendency for madness after all. — he put his hands on the table and stood. — Take this girl to the next messenger riding to King's Landing. — Rhaenys’ eyes met his. — You will be kept there until you can be of use, then we’ll see about this death of yours.

Within the small circle of people who knew her, Rhaenys had been dubbed the curse of the Mad King. Unknowingly to all, she had been a product of Aemon Targaryen’s last escapade from the Night’s Watch into Mole’s Town, before old age took his sight and disposition. All the whores in the pleasure house were horrified when a baby with silver hair was delivered by one of them, and that’s when the curse took place.

The mother, being ostracised in town after the birth, asked her sisters for guidance and some agreed she should have the baby killed. A child with such resemblance to a Targaryen during the Mad King’s reign could not have been a worse omen. The mother, whose name has already been forgotten, despised the infant girl, but couldn’t find it in herself to kill such a young thing. She then begged for a cousin, who was on his way to Winterfell, to take the baby away. And so he did.

From that moment on, all over the neighbouring towns, there was a rumor among the poor folk about a Targaryen child who had been born in Mole’s Town. The lords in the area made an unknown pact to not believe or entice such nonsense but Maester Ciaran, on the other hand, was entirely sure about that baby’s existence. That is because it had made its way from Mole’s Town right into his village near Winterfell, and when the townsfolk started whispering about the child who appeared with a traveler, the maester ran to his encounter and saw the baby for himself. She was identical to a textbook Targaryen with her silver hair, and Ciaran could see most people around were afraid or despised her.

News about the horrifying conclusion of the War of the Usurper had recently reached Ciaran’s ears. As a man with strong beliefs in the Targaryen royal line and right to reign, a Targaryen loyalist as they would say, he then decided to take matters into his own hands, and told the traveler he would keep that child and care for her. The mother’s cousin didn’t hesitate in giving her away and the maester returned home with the baby. He was overjoyed. He did not believe her to be a curse, but rather a blessing of the must unlikely nature.

He named her Rhaenys, a reference to prince Rhaegar’s only daughter who had been recently killed by the Mountain in the War of the Usurper. Maester Ciaran looked after Rhaenys in a loving and caring manner, and there was no doubt he played a fatherly role to her, but that was never spoken of explicitly due to his vows. He taught her how to read and do quite a few simple treatments a maester was required to know, so she was fairly educated considering the context of their small town.

Rhaenys was commonly frowned upon by the people who lived there, but the maester constantly emphasised how she should be proud of her hair and strong features. Even though she would constantly help the villagers as the maester had taught her, they mocked her and called her a cursed child. However, that only made her interest in the Targaryens grow, and she was always eager to learn more about them from Ciaran and his books. He was also always eager to teach her more about the family’s history, as he had no doubt in his heart that his adoptive daughter, or housemaid to the public eye, was in fact born to the House of the Dragon.

Rhaenys was, although considered weird due to her appearance, a fairly normal person, though she did act a little strangely sometimes. Rejection made her take medical duties as merely that, duties, and desensitised to the most gruesome parts of life and death. Although a little self-centred, the girl was overall polite and typically friendly and talkative towards those who didn’t treat her with disdain. The people who did, though, would often see outbursts of anger and cursing as Rhaenys was above all, very short tempered. That didn’t really help her social status, but also made some grow closer to her, since she could be quite amusing with her blabbering about the things that made her laugh and the things that made her mad. Sometimes it was hard to tell if they were laughing with or at her, but she had friends of some sort nonetheless, as well as a suitor or two with whom she could have a little fun.

By the time she was 18, an ever growing tension regarding the heir to the iron throne was erupting. King Robert Baratheon had recently died, much to Rhaenys’ excitement. Robert was the person she hated the most in all seven kingdoms for having treasonously overthrown the Targaryens with such brutality. Now that he was dead, there were multiple lords everywhere wanting to claim their right to reign. At that time, when Robert’s firstborn Joffrey had just been crowned, a rumor reached the girl and the maester’s ears about a Targaryen woman living across the narrow sea who was the mother of three dragons. Rhaenys had always been mocked and called a knock-off Targaryen bastard, a curse of the Mad King that had no family. Due to that, the news about Daenerys filled her with newfound hope to finally own that and make something out of it. Upon hearing this, maester Ciaran started making plans as to how she could go about that. There was no hard proof the girl was, in fact, a Targaryen by blood except for her appearance. But if the Mother of Dragons were to see her and believe her, Rhaenys could be destined to a greatness fit for one of the few remaining Targaryens in the world. That was what her father had always dreamt and wanted for her.

For some time Ciaran and the girl schemed a journey that would take her to meet Daenerys. She would have to lay low and attract as little attention as possible. They decided she would ride south to the Vale and cross to its port, one that should be easy to access relatively unnoticed. Then, she would get in a boat that would take her to Essos, and from there she would find her way to the Khaleesi.

It was a very dangerous plan, so Rhaenys spent a couple of months preparing. Maester Ciaran gave her every instruction and provision she might need, and the girl worked hard in a neighbour’s livestock farm for a few weeks to get a feeble and old horse they had in return. Every bit of time that wasn’t spent working, it was spent preparing for the journey east. The townsfolk all ended up hearing about their plans, and some were thankful to see the cursed woman leaving the town for once. Others were cautious and concerned, so would try to dissuade Rhaenys at every chance they got to speak to her, saying things about murder, rape and war. The girl could only pretend that it didn't scare her, but maester Ciaran could see right through it. One evening in their home, he sat her down and said, with his hand on her shoulder.

— My girl. — he sighed and smiled. His dark hair, the reason behind his name, had already turned gray, and his tired face was illuminated by the fireplace. — As you know, you and I have been working hard lately on getting you to our true queen. You should be with her when she comes to conquer the seven kingdoms, I believe that with all my heart. However, we both have to have faith that she can do it alone as well. I see how afraid you are. You are right to be, and I want you to know that if you change your mind at any point, it will be just fine. I will never stop cherishing you.

— I don’t want to leave you, father. — she sobbed and held the maester tightly, tears dripping down his chains. Being alone without him around was much more frightening than any raper and war that she may expect to find. — I need you with me, I can’t do it on my own.

— Of course you do, my dear Rhaenys. You’re stronger and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. You are strong enough to conquer the seven kingdoms if you wish. — that was a thing he always said to her when she was feeling down. She laughed through the tears and looked at his aging face. — Don’t worry about me, my sweet girl. I need to be here to care for our people. They trust us and they need us. I will do my duty as I always have, and you will do yours.

Rhaenys looked down at her apron, which was wet with a few tear droplets. She was terribly afraid of leaving, but was even more afraid of disappointing her father and herself.

— I will do it. — she wiped the tears from her cheeks. — I will meet our queen and I will return to Westeros alongside her. Then we will meet again. Right, father?

The maester kissed her at the top of her head with a sad smile.

— Of course we will, my girl.

The day of Rhaenys’ departure came shortly after. Dozens of people in town came to see her off, both those who liked her and those who didn’t. Either way, that silver haired girl was pretty popular with the townsfolk. Those who came right before she got on her horse saw her bawling her eyes out in maester Ciaran’s arms as they said goodbye. She was known to be very emotional, so no one was surprised to see her cry like that. They saw the maester grab her by the shoulders and encourage her sternly, to which she responded by wiping her face and giving him one last hug. Rhaenys got up on her old little brown horse, packed with loads of bags, and looked back at everyone watching her. Her cheeks became red to see so many people there saying goodbye to her, even if some were glad to see her leave. She felt she meant something to all of them somehow. She waved at them, finding her friends in the crowd and smiling. The girl only faced away when she could barely see any person at all in the distance.

It had been two weeks from the day she left when Rhaenys found herself being almost raped and then captured in a Lannister war camp in the Riverlands. She lost everything she had taken with her; every useful item and every last piece of coin the maester had given her from his modest hidden stash, the little amount of money that saved her from getting brutalised. She was taken to Tywin Lannister and now, she had her hands tied while she rode in the opposite direction from her journey on the way to King’s Landing. In the meantime, lord Eddard Stark was beheaded for treason, and after another fortnight of uncomfortable days riding with unknown men and sleepless nights frightened by their presence, Rhaenys finally arrived at King’s Landing. She was baffled by the scale of the city and the grandiosity of its buildings, the biggest a village girl had ever seen. It smelled foul, but she was very interested in seeing the sept of Baelor in the sky and thinking about the Targaryens who ruled in that place for so many years. Even though she was excited about the sightseeing, the Lannister soldiers put a cloak over her head and told her to lay low. She was not allowed to have a single strand of silver hair visible until they entered the Red Keep.

There, she was lifted from the horse and put on the ground, hands tied still. Rhaenys looked around the patio to see rows of knights from the Kingsguard standing there, and felt a chill crawl down her spine as she realised what had really happened to her. Before arriving, she didn’t have a clear notion of where she was going, but now she saw it for herself. The girl watched with widened eyes the knights getting into a different formation as steps approached from the hall. She lowered her head as a blonde woman with very long hair in an exquisite dress walked up to her. They removed her cloak abruptly, and she saw the woman had a weird and uncomfortable grin on her face.

— Is this the bastard my father sent? — she asked one of the soldiers who had brought Rhaenys.

— Yes, Your Grace. That’s the one claiming to be a Targaryen.

The woman standing before her was none other than Cersei Lannister, the Queen mother. Rhaenys was terrified now, and couldn’t bear to look anywhere else than her feet and raggedy boots. Her heart was racing, but she tried her best to conceal her heavy breathing by clutching her hands on her shirt.

— Look at me. — Cersei took the girl’s face in her hands and pushed her head up by her chin. She examined her hair, grabbed her face by the cheeks and looked at the girl’s eyes and every feature with the same odd expression. Then she let go harshly and Rhaenys looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. She hated being touched by strangers.

— Take her down to the basement room. Give her the bare minimum care, nothing else. Go. — The queen said quickly, turned her back and walked away. As she did, the knights went back to their previous formation.

A septa appeared from the hallway and grabbed the girl’s arm roughly. Walking fast, she dragged Rhaenys around the castle, court members looking at her and whispering as she passed, so she turned her face away every time. But even through the pain and humiliation, she was mesmerised by the scale of the riches of that place. After a long walk and a few flights of stairs, the septa opened the door to reveal a small room with a bed, a little fire place and a bunch of old objects laying around the floor as rubbish. It was just as the queen had described: the bare minimum, nothing else.

Rhaenys gave the septa a death stare, but she seemed unfazed. She limited herself to leaving and locking the door behind her. The girl screamed with frustration upon realising she was now completely trapped inside that awful place. Tears formed in her eyes, she picked a piece of wood from the floor, the broken leg of a chair, and tossed it out the tiny window of the chamber. For hours, the girl alternated between fits of crying and bouts of depression. At night, some maid brought her a stale soup, probably leftover of the servant’s supper, and she ate it unwillingly. Rhaenys fell asleep purely out of exhaustion.

[enveine]

when doves cry - s. clegane: chapter one (pilot)

pairing: sandor clegane x f!eldest stark reader summary: your loyalty to your family is unwavering, a steadfast commitment that defines your character. however, navigating the turbulent waters of newfound, intense emotions for a man devoted to a family starkly opposed to your own will challenge the foundations of this loyalty. as you stand on the precipice of conflicting allegiances, the question looms: what sacrifices would you make in the name of love? rating: 18+ word count: 4.4k chapter warnings: smut, "we just met but I want to fuck you", kinda ooc sandor, language, story loosely follows the timeline of S1, semi-public sex- very risky, rough sex, reader probably cares more about what's happening then sandor does, hickeys in hidden places, unprotected piv sex, angst, "we just fucked and now we're practically going to be living together".

spotify playlist | pinterest board | ao3 version

The great hall of Winterfell buzzed with activity as the Stark family prepared for the arrival of King Robert Baratheon and his entourage. You were the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, so you knew all eyes were going to be on you; a young woman of noble birth, at an age desperate to be married well. You moved gracefully through the throngs of people, your eyes keenly observing the bustling preparations. You wore a simple but elegant gown, the Stark colors proudly displayed.

A little nervous, to be expected. Nothing a little ride couldn’t fix.

On the way back, you noticed that winter truly had begun its descent upon the land, the air frigid and the wind mighty. The crunch of snow beneath the hooves of your horse echoed through the trees as you headed back towards Winterfell. You were eager to greet the royal party.

As you approached the stable, you hear the unmistakable clatter of hooves against the cobblestone. The royal retinue had arrived. Intrigued, you watch closely to see the beautiful ocean of golden banners, curiosity piqued by the impending arrival of the king.

The gate swung open, revealing the group of visitors. Your gaze was drawn to a towering figure at the back of the party. A man of imposing stature, his face hidden beneath a twisted helm, and clad in dark, rugged armor. He radiated an air of danger that made the other courtiers instinctively give him a wide berth.

Still mounted, you took a step back, closer to your direwolf Nyx. You watched him with a curious gaze. As he sat there, a silent sentinel also mounted upon his horse, you felt a shiver run down your spine as his gaze met your own.

"Who's that?" you inquired, directing the question to a nearby stable boy.

The boy hesitated before answering, "That's the Hound, my Lady. Sandor Clegane, the King's dog."

You clicked your tongue, “King’s dog, huh?” a small laugh, “Interesting title.”

You watched as the man dismounted, your eyes narrowing with interest. He moved with a certain controlled grace, his movements deliberate and purposeful. An unexpected shiver ran down your spine as you observed the mysterious figure. There was something about him that defied the norms of courtly behavior, an untamed quality that set him apart. In a sea of polished knights and well-mannered courtiers, he was a dark anomaly.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by the mysterious figure. Your eyes lingered on him, studying the scars that marred his face. There was a hardness in his gaze that suggested a life of brutality, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the man beneath the armor.

Your eyes met for the briefest moment, a flicker of connection that sent a jolt through your spine. Quickly averting her gaze, you tried ignoring the heart pounding feeling in her chest. The Hound continued on, seemingly indifferent to the glances and whispers that followed him. After his eyes left yours, you couldn’t help but watch his every move again. That man, Sandor Clegane, he was beautiful.

And he was coming right towards you.

As you dismounted her horse, the Hound's attention shifted briefly to her. You felt a twinge of discomfort under his scrutinizing gaze, but being the strong-minded Stark you were, held your ground. Nyx, ever vigilant, growled softly at the Hound, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"You a Stark girl?" he grumbled, his voice rough and devoid of warmth.

You nodded, a defiant yet humorous spark in your eyes. "Well I stand before you wearing Stark colors. I’d hope so. (Y/N) Stark. And you are?"

"The Hound. Sandor Clegane," he replied with a hint of mockery. "King's dog, they call me."

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "A dog, you say?” In a bold move, your eyes slowly moved up and down, taking in a good look of his entire figure. “I don’t see a collar.”

His lips twitched, almost forming a reluctant smirk. It was a rare sight, a crack in his stoic facade.

“Well, dog, I hope you’re house-trained.”

Your exchange was brief, but in that moment, something shifted. A connection, unspoken and unacknowledged, lingered between the two of you. The Hound turned away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving you with a lingering sense of curiosity and an unsettling awareness that even though you’d just met that man—you wanted more of him.

Later that night, the great hall of Winterfell resounded with the clinking of goblets and the boisterous laughter of the guests. You found yourself drawn into the festivities, attempting to put aside the enigmatic encounter with Sandor Clegane. The feast in honor of King Robert Baratheon's visit was in full swing, and the Stark family showed they knew how to put together an extravagant feast.

As the night progressed, you caught glimpses of him across the crowded hall. His presence was ominous, and whispers of him still followed like shadows. Your curiosity mingled with a sense of unease, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that your brief exchange held a significance you couldn't fully comprehend.

You continued to mingle among the noble guests, trying to keep your eyes away from Sandor. But to no avail, you watched in-between pointless conversations as he stood at the outskirts of the celebration. His gaze fixed on the revelry with a mix of disdain and disinterest and you felt a peculiar pull, as if the currents of destiny were nudging you toward the enigmatic man.

An unexpected voice interrupted you in the middle of your thoughts. "(Y/N), you seem quite taken with the Hound," spoke your younger sister, Sansa Stark, her blue eyes glinting mischievously.

You raised an eyebrow and snorted out a laughter, attempting to conceal the obvious interest written in your eyes. "Taken? No, my dear Sansa. Merely curious. He is a formidable figure, after all." You put your arm between hers, nudging her body in the direction of the man who looked quite bored. “You know what mother always tells us. We are wolves, we must be the ones to pounce before the others.”

Sansa's gaze flitted between you and the man in question, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, just be careful. Rumors say he has a fearsome temper."

You chuckled at her, feigning nonchalance. "Rumors are just that—rumors. I'm sure there's more to him than meets the eye."

“Rumor has it that I think you’re full of rubbish.” She replied, a playful laugh falling from her lips.

“Oh Sansa, run off. Father needs you.” You nodded in the direction of your father, clearly enjoying his conversation with King Robert and his son, Joffrey.

Poor Sansa, you thought, that boy looks like nothing but trouble.

As the night wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were destined to cross again. And fate intervened sooner than expected. The King's squire, Lancel Lannister, approached you with a cup of wine.

"From the Hound," he declared, offering you the goblet.

You hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold metal. You glanced in the direction of the Hound, who merely nodded in acknowledgment. Taking the wine, you nodded back with a small smile, and Lancel retreated into the shadows.

As you sipped the wine, the rich flavor lingered on her lips. As you found yourself drawn once more Sandor, you wondered what he’d taste like lingering on your lips. As your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between the two of you—a forming connection, born from the flames of need for passion.

Eventually, after a few more cups of wine, you found yourself standing at the edge of the hall, watching the dancers twirl to the music. A deep voice behind you interrupted your thoughts. "You fancy dancing, Lady (Y/N)?"

You turned to find Sandor standing there, his burned face impassive. "I can dance if the occasion calls for it," you replied, your eyes meeting his with something you couldn’t describe, but you could definitely feel it.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "She’s a wolf with claws, then."

You were undeterred by his nature, offering a playful smile. "You sure seem to enjoy lurking in the shadows, Ser Clegane. Is that where you find your solace?"

He grunted, a low sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle. "Solace is overrated. I prefer the edge of the firelight."

You tilted your head, curls cascading over your shoulder. "A mysterious man, I see. Are you afraid the light will reveal too much?"

Sandor's lips twitched into a half-smile, a rare sight on his scarred face. "Some things are better left in the dark."

Leaning in, you whispered, "But not everything. Some things are meant to be uncovered." You caught the glint in his eye, a flicker of something lustful beneath the rough exterior.

The conversation continued, the banter growing more flirtatious with each exchange. You teased and prodded, finding amusement in the unexpected connection you felt with the man. He, in turn, responded with a gruff charm that surprised even himself.

Eventually, he left you with short instructions, “Broken tower.”

At last, you found yourself in the quiet solitude with the idea of getting to know Sandor better. In a way you’d known nobody before. The anticipation of his presence weighed on you, and a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. The air was charged with a different kind of energy, one that held the promise of a connection that transcended the boundaries of right and wrong.

A soft knock on the door signaled his arrival, and when you opened it, there he stood, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over his scarred face, softening the harsh lines that had witnessed battles and hardships.

"I thought we might continue our conversation," he rumbled, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that caught you off guard, especially when he roughly grabbed your cheeks in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. Your heart raced as you welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, trying your best to close the door.

The room pulsed with palpable tension, igniting like a fervent flame, as your hands yearned to make contact with him in every possible manner. The warmth emanating from your skin created a contrast against the cold, unyielding metal of his armor. Restless and eager, your hands became a silent testament to the unspoken urgency of your desire.

Sandor's gaze remained fixed on yours throughout, ablaze with a passion you had long yearned for—a fervor you couldn't fathom experiencing with the man standing before you.

Your teeth sank into his lower lip, coaxing a resonant, primal groan from him, prompting his reluctant withdrawal. "She's a wolf with claws and teeth," he chuckled, wiping away the trace amount of blood that had emerged from the newfound wound.

Rather than offering a response, your body found itself pressed against the wall, his calloused hand gently mitigating the impact on your head. "Couldn’t very well carry our conversation with your lips against mine," you remarked at last, tilting your head to the side as his lips met the tender skin of your neck.

He stopped for a moment- another faint chuckle coming before continuing, “aye, that was the point.”

Sandor persisted in tracing kisses along your neck, momentarily pausing only to leave subtle bites in places known only to him. In this moment, he recognized that he was on the brink of losing all restraint, evident in the autonomy of his hands, which seemed to explore every inch of your body with a desire you willingly indulged. Oh, how willingly you would allow him to continue.

“Sandor, please, I need-” you were cut off mid sentence by him grabbing your right leg and wrapping it around his waist. The cold metal hid his hardening cock—the feeling of it against your warm skin made you anticipate his every move. “If we’re g-gonna do this.. we need to hurry..”

“You need to keep quiet.”

His lips descended, caressing the delicate fabric of your dress. His fingers deftly maneuvered to release you from its confines with a sense of urgency; there was an animalistic quality to his actions—rough fingers, accompanied by soft growls, responding to the rhythmic dance of your body against his determined hold. A silent plea resonated, a tacit acknowledgment that you craved everything he was willing to bestow upon you.

A hushed stillness enveloped the space for the next few moments, broken only when he skillfully lowered your dress, unveiling your tits. Sandor's fingers delicately traced the contours of each nipple, his unwavering gaze captivated by their response. With each circular motion, they seemed to intensify in firmness, a testament to the heightened sensitivity your body exhibited in mere minutes of his touch. He reveled in the allure of your immediate responsiveness.

If anyone were to walk in they’d see such a pornographic sight: the beloved, eldest daughter of Ned Stark, nipples hard and swollen, dress hiked up to her waist while the Prince’s hound let her hump his armor. By this point, you'd wager that the burgeoning dampness in your silk panties had left its mark on the cool silver surface, a silent proclamation of your possession of the man. Yet, the mutual understanding between you both acknowledged that any unsuspecting onlooker venturing in would be treated to an undeniable spectacle.

If this were your first time, perhaps a hint of nervousness would have crept in, particularly as you sensed his hands gently sliding your panties down to your knees. Yet, even in such a moment, his adept handling imparted a profound sense of security. This man, bound by oath to safeguard his King, was now silently pledging to protect you with equal devotion.

But, fortunately, nothing could protect your body from what Sandor was about to do.

Seating himself on the ground after loosening his leather pants, he then drew you down to join him. As you settled onto his lap, he playfully grazed against your entrance with his cock, all the while continuing his descent of kisses along your neck. With a stern tone, he uttered, "My Lady, speak the word and I’ll stop."

Gazing into his eyes, you found them ablaze with desire, mirroring the fervor you sensed within yourself. His captivating eyes, the unsteady cadence of his breath, and the formidable frame enveloping you in its embrace—you desired nothing else in that moment.

“I don’t think such words exist.” You whispered.

At last, your lips met again with an intense passion, and as he slowly pushed his cock inside, his kiss carried a raw urgency that you eagerly reciprocated. Midway, a soft moan escaped as an indescribable sensation stirred in your stomach. Gazing down, your eyes caught a glimpse of your warmth enveloping him voraciously—a hunger akin to a famished wolf.

Sandor wasn’t even in completely.

His hips moved gradually against yours, a measured rhythm aiming to acquaint you with his full length. Pressed chest to chest, he sensed the rapid cadence of your intense heartbeat, but as his fingers traced small circles on your thighs, he felt it gradually subside. Sandor understood that in due course, he would sense the resurgence of your elevated heart rate, particularly when he ultimately filled you entirely. The connection was palpable, your pelvis intimately aligned with his.

He sustained a consistent rhythm, guiding your hips in a reciprocal dance of thrusts. The entire encounter was swift and purposeful, each thrust delivered with a sense of urgency, as if time were a constraint. In a sense, it was, considering the uncertainty of someone stumbling upon you at any moment.

Yet, beneath it all, an undercurrent of passion prevailed. The symphony of your gasps harmonized with his occasional groans, creating a melodic atmosphere. Your hand remained anchored on the back of Sandor's neck like a steadying handlebar, providing support as his thrusts intensified. It felt fitting that this was how Sandor Clegane fucked his women—clothed, he embodied roughness and intensity; how could one become tender and affectionate when undressed?

The familiar sensation of tightness formed in your stomach, and truth be told, there was a hint of disappointment in how swiftly the entire encounter unfolded. Yet, the lack of surprise lingered; he had proven to be the quickest in getting you into bed. The inexplicable allure he held over you remained a mystery, but in this moment, such thoughts were irrelevant—especially when you stood on the brink of blissful release.

Suddenly, a surge of sensation swept over you as his hand enveloped your throat. Sandor felt the subtle tightening of your walls around his cock, a telltale sign that you were teetering on the edge. He sought to bring you to that exquisite pleasure. Amidst the crescendo of your growing moans reverberating against the tower walls, his grip tightened, not to stifle your ecstasy but to cloak the sounds and shield the secrecy of your rendezvous.

As tears cascaded down your cheeks in response to the overwhelming pleasure, he spoke, "That's it, (Y/N), that's it…" It was as if he momentarily shed his usual demeanor, softening as he observed you in your vulnerable state. However, amidst the whirlwind that had your head spinning and everything fading to white, the only thing you could truly register was the profound impact of your orgasm.

Sandor wasn't far behind, withdrawing as you caught your breath, leaving your back adorned in ribbons of white cum. A soft whine escaped you as you felt it trickle down, accompanied by his heightened groans that surpassed those from when he was inside you. The aftermath left both of you in a hushed stillness, contemplating who would break the silence first. It was him, rising to his feet after moving your body off his lap and discreetly tucking his softening cock back into his trousers. He handed you a handkerchief, a gesture to cleanse the now drying traces from your back.

You wondered whether he would abandon you in the tower, retreat to his quarters, or perhaps rejoin the now dwindling party. To your surprise, he didn't. Instead, he extended his hand, helping you rise and assisting in the process of reclothing yourself. It was a considerate gesture, you acknowledged, yet it only added to the palpable tension that seemed to be mounting. You were certain Sandor could discern it in your expression—the subtle frown betraying your disappointment that the encounter had concluded. As you gazed at him, you searched for any sign of shared sentiment, any indication that he, too, would miss the intimacy you had just shared. Regrettably, you found nothing.

The air outside the tower was crisp, and the moon cast a silvery glow across the surroundings as Sandor led you down the winding path to your quarters. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, the tension between you two lingering even in the cool night air.

The journey was silent, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft echo of your footsteps on the cobblestone path. Sandor's hand, firm yet strangely comforting, guided you through the dimly lit passages of the castle.

As you approached your quarters, a mix of conflicting emotions washed over you. There was a longing for something more, a desire to bridge the gap between the intimacy you'd just shared and the reality of the castle walls around you. The silence between you spoke volumes, a tacit acknowledgment of the uncharted territory you both found yourselves in.

Upon reaching your door, Sandor released your hand, and for a moment, it felt like a sudden loss. He stood there, his expression unreadable in the muted moonlight. You searched his eyes for any sign of what lay beneath the surface, but they remained enigmatic.

"Goodnight, Lady (Y/N)," Sandor gruffly uttered, breaking the silence. The words hung in the air, a simple farewell laden with unspoken complexities.

"Goodnight, Sandor Clegane," you replied, your voice soft and tinged with a hint of something unsaid. As you entered your quarters, the door closing behind you, the weight of the night settled in.

Alone in the hushed sanctuary of your quarters, the echoes of the night's encounter reverberated through the room. The emotions, like an unruly storm, swirled within you, and the dam holding them back began to crack.

As you stood there, the weight of what had transpired bore down on you. The tears, uninvited, welled up in your eyes and spilled over, tracing the contours of your cheeks. It wasn't just the physical intimacy that left you shaken; it was the tangled web of emotions that accompanied it.

Regret gnawed at you, and confusion settled in like a heavy fog. What had led you to this precipice, and where did you stand now? The vulnerability of the moment washed over you, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Fumbling with the fastenings of your dress, you sought solace in the act of undressing, as if shedding the layers would somehow alleviate the burden you carried. The moonlight filtering through the window cast shadows across the room, emphasizing the isolation you felt.

Laying on the bed, your tears soaked into the fabric beneath you, a silent lament for the choices made and the uncharted territories navigated. The intimacy, though a fleeting connection, left a profound impact, and the aftermath left you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

As the night wore on, the tears eventually subsided, leaving behind a quiet ache and a lingering question of what the dawn would bring. In the solace of your room, you found yourself wrestling with the complexities of desire, regret, and the uncertain path ahead.

The morning sun painted Winterfell in hues of gold, casting a warm light over the courtyard. Despite the tender touch of dawn, the echoes of the previous night's emotions still sat within your heart.

A soft knock on your door signaled the entrance of your father, whose countenance bore the strength of responsibility. "(Y/N)," he began with a softness, "gather your sisters. There's something we must discuss."

Compelled by both curiosity and a lingering sense of unrest, you summoned Arya and Sansa to join you in the family chambers. As the three of you assembled, a somber atmosphere enveloped the room, foreshadowing the gravity of your father's impending words.

Ned stood before you, a stalwart figure. "My daughters," he started, his voice bearing both love and gravitas, "a change is upon us. I have been offered the position of Hand of the King by King Robert."

Sansa's eyes widened, Arya's skepticism palpable, and you exchanged a glance with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

"We will be relocating to King's Landing," Ned continued, his gaze encompassing each of you. "It is an honor, but with it comes great responsibility. The court is a labyrinth of politics and intrigue, and I need my family by my side."

Arya's rebellious spirit simmered beneath the surface, while Sansa's excitement mingled with trepidation. As for you, the events of the night before lingered, making the move to King's Landing feel like an unexpected twist in the intricate tapestry of your life.

Amidst the familial exchanges, there was another silent dance occurring—one between you and Sandor. His eyes constantly drew your gaze. It was as if an invisible thread connected you, and in those moments, the world around you blurred as your eyes met his, wordlessly conveying a shared understanding of the complexities unfolding.

Ned Stark, seemingly oblivious to the subtle interplay, continued to outline the responsibilities that awaited the Stark family in the capital. As he spoke, your eyes frequently found Sandor's, and each exchange carried a weight of unspoken emotions. His gaze, normally guarded, held a hint of something that transcended the stoic exterior he presented to the world.

When Ned mentioned the unity of the Stark family in facing the challenges ahead, your eyes involuntarily sought out Sandor's once more. In that shared gaze, there was a recognition that echoed the uncertainties of the path ahead and the uncharted territories that lay before you.

The air seemed heavy with the weight of impending change as you sought out Sandor in the quiet corners of the castle. You found him in a secluded courtyard, the familiar hounds of House Stark milling about nearby. The atmosphere was tense, and the silent exchange of glances from before lingered in your mind.

"Sandor," you began, your voice cutting through the stillness. He turned to face you, his expression guarded but expectant.

The words tumbled out, the night before demanding acknowledgement. "What happened between us… it was unexpected, and now with the move to King's Landing, I don't know what this means."

Sandor's gaze, normally impenetrable, softened in a rare display of vulnerability. "It means nothing, my Lady. Just a moment in time, and we move on."

But you couldn't shake the lingering questions. "Is that all it was to you? Just a moment?"

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours with a raw honesty. "It was more than that, but it's not something that fits into our worlds."

A surge of frustration mixed with a tinge of sadness swept over you. "Our worlds? What does that mean, Sandor? We're both headed to King's Landing. We're both a part of whatever is coming next."

His gaze held a complexity that mirrored the conflict within. "In King's Landing, there's a different kind of game being played. I’m not the one to bring into your world, and you sure as hell don't belong in mine."

The words stung, but there was a resignation in his tone, as if he sought to shield you from the harsh realities he faced daily.

You took a step closer, unwilling to let the unspoken linger. "I can decide what world I belong to, Sandor. And right now, I want to understand what this is between us."

He sighed, a mixture of frustration and reluctance. "We're just two people caught up in a storm. Best not to overthink it."

Before you could press further, the sound of footsteps approached, and the courtyard suddenly felt less secluded. Sandor's eyes met yours once more, a silent understanding passing between you.

"In King's Landing, things will have to change," he muttered, his tone a gruff acknowledgment of the challenges ahead.

The bittersweet taste of truth lingered in the air as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead. A silent understanding passed between you, a farewell woven with unspoken regrets and the inevitability of parting ways.

As the distance between your bodies widened, the courtyard seemed to stretch infinitely. The angst that clung to the parting moments left an indelible ache, a silent ache that would resonate in the chambers of your heart long after the echoes of Sandor's footsteps faded into the shadows.

"I don't want to lose you," you confessed in your mind.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

CHAPTER 13

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- Animal death (graphic), mention of vomit, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst.

Previous chapter here

Slightly proof read sorry for any errors

Sandor huffs sitting in the corner as far away from the fire as possible.  

“Come on clegane warm up will yah?” thoros says. 

“Fuck off.” he grunts out shifting away. 

“Leave him be thoros.” Beric says sitting next to sandor. 

“I fucked you up well.” Sandor chuckles looking at barrack right side which he nearly split the man in two just moments ago. 

“Aye, but lord of light has granted me movement and health.” Beric speaks, holding up his arms seemingly magically healed. Sandor hums in response. 

“My men tell me you weren't alone when they found you.” Beric says. 

“Found me? Eh..they ambushed me piled on top of me like wrangling a fucking swine." Sandor releases but Beric still waits for his answer. 

“Yes i wasnt alone… had my stupid fuckign squire and-” he stops himself not wanting to say anything more, let alone anything about you. 

“And?” Beric prods as the unfinished answer. 

Sandor sighs rolling his eyes before answering once more. 

“My wife,” he speaks again. 

“The volantis princess?” Beric asks. Sandor nods. 

“I heard of your wedding of what king joffrey had done to her brother he's with the lord of light now-” 

“OH will you shut the fuck up about that lord of light bullshit!” Sandor stands up about to walk out when four men run into the cave. 

“My lord we've spotted a Lannister raiding party.” 

“How many?” Beric asks. 

“No more than 15.” the man replies. 

“Where are they headed and how far?” 

“Headed east across the essos most likely making a stop at lys, and just two miles off here twords hellholt.” the man answers Beric. 

“I need a horse.” Sandor grabs Beric , pulling him to him. 

“You're joining us?” he asked. 

“Once he hit lys im taking a ship straight to volantis i dont give a rats ass about your religious cunts. I'll follow you until then. Understand.” Sandor says Beric nod knowing he wants to get back to you more than anything. Dispute his effort to try and hide it he knows that his squire and you arnt the only thing he wants to get back too there has to be something else. And something, someone, else there is. 

“We leave at dawn. Your horse will be tethered outside.” Beric assures. Sandor lets go of him and nods. 

—-----

Dawn hits as you and joss ride on the horse you've both spent the night at an inn in hellholt the last night and the journey through the mountains before the vaith is something you've both need to get over with before taking on the rest of the nearing towns. 

“When we get there we’ll sell the horse for extra coin my lady.” joss says. You nod mindlessly. 

“S-stop..” you say he stops the horse and gets off a slight bit of struggle before landing on the ground and hurrying to the side only to cough up your breakfast.

“My lady!” joss says worriedly you hold up a hand to him.

“N-no..im fine.” you say holding your stomach hoping the nausea wave will pass before continuing on through the bumpy terrain on horseback. You cough standing up straight before going back to the horse which you've now realized you can not get back up onto so you take the reins and lead it to a fairly high rock and climb onto the rock before hoisting yourself onto the horse. 

“Are you alright my lady?” joss asks. 

“Yes i'm perfectly fine, probably not in the condition for heavy travel but considering the circumstances it will have to do.” you say before leading the horse to go on.

“Do you really believe in the lord clegane?” joss asks. 

“About?” you answer. 

“That…h-he will find us. I know what I said before but I just..” he trails off. 

“Don't talk like that…we have to focus on getting to volantis and then if not we will send a raven.” you say now being the one to lift spirits. He nods. 

“My apologies.” he says. You take a breath in filling your lungs with air before letting it out watching ahead. 

“How are your injuries?” you ask him. 

“I'm alright. just bruised.” he says you nod to him continuing on. You look, seeing a sign. ‘Town of vaith 2 miles’ 

“Almost there.” you say to joss. Just as you do the horse takes a miss step sending you and joss falling off. 

You both hit the ground, the wind getting knocked out of you as you keel over coughing trying to catch your breath. The squeal of the horse blaring out. 

“M-my lady!!” joss runs to you. You hold your stomach, catching your breath. 

“I-i'm okay. I'm okay.” you say getting up.

“No..no no.” you hurry to the horse as it lays on the ground, its leg clearly broken. You need the horse to get to sunspear, pass vaith, and walking across miles and miles of pure land can't be conquered by you. 

“Its leg.” you say to joss kneeling in front of the horse trying to keep it calm in its pained state. 

“M-my lady we-....we have to put it out of its misery we cannot leave it here.” he says. You nod, feeling bad for the creature. 

“H-help me get our things off.” you say getting up pulling off the bags of your money and a few clothes. Joss places them down on the side away from the beast. 

“Can you do it?” you ask him, looking at the suffering horse. He slowly nods unsure yet sure enough to do so. 

“I-i've seen some of the knights put down their horses…they c-cut the throat…there.” he points. Pulling out the dagger sandor left in the bag. Your heart clenches at having to hurt a living animal. Put the pain it's in to overcome any other fear or worry you have. 

“Okay…” joss whispers to himself, walking over to the horse and kneeling down in front of it. 

“You should look away my lady.” he says to you. You nod and turn your head waiting for the horse's ragged breath to stop. A few seconds go by but nothing, you can still hear the horse whining in pain. You look back at joss who holds the knife above his head looking into the horse's eyes. 

***

‘How do you kill so easily?’ you ask Sandor as you rest your head on his chest. 

‘It's not something I like to do…but when youre life in against another's will, your will to live may be stronger. Just don't look them in the eyes, seeing a soul leave a host will never not be a hard one.’ he says to you his voice vibrates through your ears. 

‘Mm’ you answer. 

‘Don't tell me you're planning on killing anyone anytime soon, little fox?’ he asks. You shake your head nod with a giggle. 

‘I could never.’ you say.

***

“Joss.” you say looking at him he looks up at you tears streaming down his face. He is a boy after all. 

You hold out your hand as he stands up. 

“M-my lady…” he says. You take the dagger out of his hand before kneeling down and quickly as if you'd done it before cutting the horse's throat and immediately it stops. It stops breathing, it stops moving, it stops all together. A splatter of blood hits your cheek as you look ahead at the mossy rocks in front of you. You look down to get up only to catch a glimpse of the light in the horse's eye dull out. 

You let out a shaky breath fully standing. 

“H-how far is sunspear?” you ask joss. 

“Too far to walk on foot my lady. But.. salt shore is 2 miles from vaith to the right.” he says. 

“And they have a shipping dock there, yes?” you ask. 

“Yes my lady.” he nods. You wipe off your cheek with your sleeve and pick up a bag. 

“We’ll head to vaith see if we can find another horse and if not…we walk to the salt shore.” you say. 

“Yes my lady.” joss nods as he picks up the other bag, slugging it over his shoulder. You both begin the trek down the mountain to the town of vaith.

Next chapter here

If you’d like to be added to the tag list leave a comment below.

Taglist-

@stephyshadows@germansarechill@urfavbiscuit@daphneyblue@takemeaemond@holb32@allison-119@pxstelink@imsolonelyimissyou@myshitaccount@broadsdrinkwhisky@@evie-beanie@eulysa23-2@greeknymph18@rudiruds@chompwoman

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: SFW, Joffrey is Joffrey, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 5.3K

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chapter 2

Joffrey's hatred towards you started when he was a teen and grew tremendously as he became older. He remembered you being an amazing sister, reading him stories when he was a child. Walking with him around the garden and to the Red Keep but he yearned for the attention of his father. Robert’s attention was always captured by the fancy wine, his whores and you. He knew Robert’s love for you is boundless, there was simply no end to it. Robert never yelled at you or hit you even when you protected Joffrey after he killed the kitchen cat.

He disemboweled the poor feline when he found out it was pregnant. He wanted to see the kittens, he cried out as you held him so he didn’t receive a second hit from his father. You stopped defending Joffrey when he became more ill-mannered. His hatred towards you began when you yelled at him for being discourteous to your help.

“Mind your manners when it comes to those who work for me. My servants are not bitches and my guard is not a dog. Learn to respect, brother.” You scolded him then turned to console one of your servants.

It's been a month after the events of Robert accepting your refusal to wed your betroth in Dorne. Cersei hasn't spoken to you and so didn't Joffrey, he grew more annoyed by the fact that you didn't care at all. You went on talking with Robert, to your uncles and his younger siblings. Joffrey was looking out the balcony trying his best to take short breaths so he didn’t have to smell the shit coming from below where the commoners live. He was staring out because he heard the ruckus you were making this morning. You didn’t break fast with them, he hasn't seen you all morning. Of course, Robert was fine with it. He told Cersei you were busy with your activities.

“Feeding the poor is one of her activities now?” Cersei spoke with a mocking tone. She got angry when Robert straight up ignored her and continued on with his meal.

Joffrey rolled his eyes when he finally found you. You were walking with Sandor up and down the streets of King’s Landing. Sandor walked behind you as he led his horse. Joffrey’s blue eyes hardened when he saw a group forming in front of you. Your smile didn’t break when they got near you, Joffrey couldn’t believe you could be near them. They reeked of shit, he couldn’t even be around them for 5 minutes before he started to gag.

Your smile didn't falter, it grew bigger as you walked around the dark mare to open the bags draped over its body. The people's eyes widened when you came back with slices of bread and cheeses wrapped in a white cloth. Sandor remains silent as he looks over at you then at his surroundings.

Joffrey walks away from the balcony when you continue to walk around with Sandor. It was evening and Sandor can tell you were tired. You were walking slower, you were up at dawn wrapping bread and cheese with the servants of the kitchen. This wasn’t something new, he’s been walking around King’s Landing with you feeding the people for years. You were kind unlike your family, Sandor thinks as he passes the last house that stood at the bottom of the hill. He had told you it would have been better to ride in a carriage so you wouldn’t have to walk all over the place but you told him you didn’t mind it. You wanted to speak with the people and have a close interaction with them.

“Princess.” Sandor looks over at the last house to see an elderly woman walking out of the front door. She bowed her head when she got close to you.

“How are you today?” You asked, grabbing the last bundles in the bag.

“Better now that you are here.” Sandor watches as you give her a smile while handling her food.

Sandor bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling as he watches you communicate with her. You spoke to her like an equal. You’re the first to ever do it with the commoners. That’s why they called you the Realms Delight. It was one of the many reasons why Sandor fell in love with you. You never looked down at anyone, you treated everyone with kindness especially to the unfortunate.

When it tends to bite you in the ass because of it that’s why he’s there with you. Sandor has threatened people throughout the years since you started giving food out. People got ahead of themselves and took too many bundles. He was always there to make sure everyone got their share. He gives them a stare down when they begin to fight with others for more food.

He remembers the first time the children from the orphanage wouldn’t get near you since he was behind you.

“No need to fear. Sandor and Stranger are here to help me.” You tell the children but they don’t believe you until a man tries to cut the line. Sandor bares his teeth, sending him running away.

“You see. Sandor is here to help me to make sure everyone gets their share.” The children calms down as Sandor brings Stranger closer to you so you start passing out the bundles.

“Remember to eat up so you can grow tall and strong like Sandor.” He shakes his head as you tell the children before walking away.

Sandor was so busy remembering the past that he didn’t notice you were walking inside the older woman’s house. Sandor shouted your name and you waved at him to come inside. He leans down to get his big frame past the door frame. When he gets through he notices you were talking with a young girl. Sandor awkwardly stood by the front door as you talked with her. The young girl was the older woman’s daughter. They were all alone after the woman’s husband died from the recent war. He was unaware when you placed a comforting hand on the woman's knee. A war broke out not long ago, your father’s brother wanted to be King. Robert brushed it off but soon it became clear that his brother was serious when he received support from other houses. All you could do is pray for when the next war breaks out that your father would win it again.

Sandor heard the words working and tavern but didn’t pay attention to it. He was busy looking around to make sure no harm would come to you. As much as you like to believe the people in King’s Landing wouldn't hurt you. Sandor thought the opposite. His eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees you sitting on a chair, pulling your dress up to your knees so you can remove your black slippers.

“Seven Hells!” He shouts but you look over at him with a stern face that shuts him up.

“Princess! No! Please. We can not.” The mother tells you while the daughter is pushing the slippers back towards you.

“Nonsense! You can’t work with those shoes. They are falling apart.” You pointed at the old slippers near the bed by the daughter.

“Princess Y/n.” Sandor calls out walking towards you. You were getting out of hand now, passing food was one thing but giving up your belongings was something else completely.

“Sandor. Please.” You look up at him. How can he say no when you look at him with those puppy dog eyes.

Sandor’s nostrils flare but he looks away from you letting you continue on. He hears that you tell the girl to take it. If they were too big or small to have the cobbler fix it. He hears the coins clinking together as you grab a hold of your small pouch that was kept strapped on your waist.

He looks out the door when the mother and daughter start to cry by your kindness, giving them money to make sure the shoes would fit properly. He walks out when you mention to them that you should be returning back to the castle. Sandor had already pulled the bags off of Stranger and draped it over his shoulders.

“Get up here.” Sandor tells you when he saw you were about to walk barefoot up the hill. Sandor helps you up, settling you on top of Stranger. He wanted to snap at you but couldn't when he saw the smile you had on your face.

“Why?” Sandor asked you after a moment of silence.

He can’t comprehend why you were so kind to everyone. He knew you had the ability to manipulate, manipulate men, and the king but you never did use it for anything wicked. Years of him guarding you; you’ve never changed, you've always been kind since the very start but he just can’t wrap his head around the idea of it. Maybe because he was so used to being treated like shit by his brother and by others when he was younger that it was normal to him.

“Remember what you told me two weeks after guarding me?” You asked him, looking down at him as he walked side by side with Stranger.

“Aye.” Sandor answered you with a nod. He had snapped at you because you were being too nice with the guards. Your intentions with them were innocent and nothing more. You didn’t notice their beady eyes ranking up and down your figure.

“You were the first man to ever tell me how this world works. Mother told me a few things on how to get what I want but you showed me a whole other side of the world beyond the castle’s wall.” Sandor senses a sadness in your voice.

“There is so much pain and sorrow in this world. I want to ease their pain, even if it’s just a little bit.” You look towards the castle.

“I am grateful to have survived the fever when I was a babe. I was born into a wealthy family. I have a roof over my head and I will never go hungry. My relationship with my family may not be the best, but I have my father.” You told him as you felt Stranger’s soft fur against your toes.

“ And I have you.” You said looking down at him with a smile.

He will never get used to your kind words and it makes him dread even more when the day comes for you to get married to some Lord, leaving him all alone in King's Landing. He will miss it, miss everything. He will miss hanging out with you, guarding you and loving you. When he and you finally made it to the stables, he shook his head letting all those sad thoughts of you leaving, disappear.

The stable boys welcome you and you greet them with a smile, asking them about their family. Sandor huffs at you, he doesn't even know their names, he was impressed on how you remembered most of the people's names that work for your father. He keeps quiet as you speak with them.

The stable boys walked out as Sandor brought Stranger into his stall. The dark mare wasn’t fond of other people that weren't Sandor.. You grabbed a hold on Sandor's shoulders as he put you down to the ground.

“It’s evening.” You told him. The stable boys were already leaving for the day. He places you on top of his shoes so you won't touch the dirty stable floor. Stranger is eating the hay placed out for him in the corner as Sandor shuts the door, pushing you against it, lifting you up to meet his face.

“I do, enjoy evenings.” He tells you. Evenings were the best, the workers were retreating back home, others were already at the castle breaking fast to eat dinner. King Robert and Queen Cersei should already be drunk out of their minds. Both of you can be alone, he can be close to you now. Your face is flushed from being outside all day, he feels your legs wrapped around his waist, he hides his face between your neck and shoulder.

“Spend the night with me. We can bathe and eat.” Sandor grips his hold on you tighter as you kiss his mutilated ear.

“You can fuck me.” You whisper and he looks at you by your choice of words. His only brow rose up at you as you smirked at him.

You cupped his face with your hands, your thumb brushing over his beard as you looked at him. Passing food to the ladies in the whore house had you shocked when one of them noticed Sandor over your shoulder. They were very outspoken about Sandor. Wondering how big he is and how he would fuck. One girl was about to ask you about him when the other hushed her, telling her you, the princess wouldn't know such a matter when it came to Sandor’s sex life. You quickly walked away when they commented on his face.

You wonder why people thought Sandor was hideous, he really wasn't. The burns were large and took up almost half of his face but he was the most handsome man you have seen. If anyone got the chance to see him smile, they would know it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world. His eyes were a deep and rich brown color, his lips that seemed to only know foul words were pale pink and kissable. You can’t recall the amount of times you nibble on it for the fun of it.

“Is that a yes?” You asked him. Sandor nods softly as he leans down to kiss your cheek. You moved to catch his lips.

Joffrey was walking out of his mother’s room when he heard laughter. He walked to the railing trying to listen where it came from. He was leaning over it when saw Sandor walking with you draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Joffrey frowns as he notices you were barefoot. He could believe that The Hound had cracked a smile and laughed when you slapped him on his behind. Joffrey broke out a sinister smile when he saw Sandor playfully biting your ass making you squeal.

This was something much more than a guard guarding the princess. Joffrey kept staring as he started to form a plan.

Sandor had dropped you at the end of the hall when he noticed your servants were waiting for you by the door of your bed chambers. You fixed your gown and walked towards the room. You asked them to bring the large brass tub you wanted to bathe today and to bring food so you can dine inside your chambers as you released Sandor from his duties. After convincing the eldest servant that you wanted to bathe alone, she bowed to you and left the room. You were in the tub relaxing when a couple of minutes later you heard the door open. You looked ahead to see Sandor walking inside, he’s not wearing his usual gear. Locking the door behind, you sat up straight in the tub moving to the side to make room for him. You grin as he walks towards you.

“Water is still hot. Come inside.” You tell him. Sandor doesn’t need to be told twice. He removes his white tunic shirt, dropping it to the ground. Watching him remove his clothes you bite your bottom lip, you can’t help but stare at his body, his cock as he gets inside the tub. The water overflows over the edge of the tub as he sits down across from you.

“Come here.” He tells you. You move towards him, turning around. His legs are spread, leaving you space to get in between and lean back against his chest. You can feel the coarse thick hair of his body on your back. Your hands trail up his thick thighs under the water.

“The girls were sweet to get these roses and lavender from the garden. They said it will help me ease my mind and body.” You told Sandor as you grabbed a rose petal floating near you and giving it to him over your shoulder.

Sandor takes it between his fingers, giving it an uninterested look. “Hopefully I won’t find one between my arse.”

You break out laughing as you throw another petal at him. “The best smelling arse in the seven kingdoms.”

He chuckles at you before tugging you closer to him making you giggle as he kisses your neck. His wandering hands are touching your hips and waist before settling down on your outer thighs.

A comfortable silence drifted over both of you, enjoying each other's company; this was something he liked. Being close to you, feeling you on him. Your mind wandered off as Sandor leaned forward to grab something from the side. You look down to see what he got. You smiled when you saw what he was holding. The bar of soap looks so minuscule in his hand, he dips it in the water and rubs it against your skin. He lather you up well and you let out a moan when you feel his hand working on a knot on your shoulder.

When he was finished you took the bar out of his hand, you slowly turned around, moving his legs straight so you could straddle him. His hands immediately went to your waist as you placed your hands on his shoulders. Sandor’s stares at you as you were washing him, rubbing the soap on his chest and shoulders. Gathering a rag hanging from the edge of the tub you use it on him. He relaxes as you wash him. He was so relaxed to the point that he had his head tilted back. You dropped the rag in the water and kissed his open neck. He whines as you nip his throat and shoulders. You thought this would be the perfect time to tell him something. Sandor wasn't the only one thinking about the future.

“I want to tell you something. It’s been plaguing my mind since the event with Joffrey and my father.” Sandor brings his head back forward to look at you with a worried expression.

“I know my time will come when my father expects me to marry.” You felt Sandor tense up under you. His face became blank as he looked at you.

“Why don’t we run away?” You ask him, moving his hair out of his face. You don’t know what Sandor is thinking.

“I’ll give you my jewelry to sell at flea bottom. We save enough money to go wherever you wanna go. Braavos?” Words kept spilling out of your mouth as he kept silent.

“Anywhere you want. We can buy land and have a farm. Stranger would be so happy with all the open fields.” You frowned when he didn't say anything.

“No more King’s Landing. No Joffrey, no more guarding, no more rules. No more Gregor.” You mentioned his brother’s name softly.

“You would give up your title? Run away with me?” He asks you quietly. You nodded at him as you got closer to him. Your chest was close to his face as you looked down at him seriously.

“I will.” Sandor shook his head.

“Y/n.” Sandor tried to find the right words to say. He looks around at your room. The gowns are hanging from your closet, the large bed of silk sheets and feather pillows. He can see your jewelry on the vanity.

“If we leave. I can’t give you all of this. The pretty and expensive dress. Jewels and dornish wine.” You look around your room following his gaze.

“You deserve all of it.” His words make you angry. “You know what I deserve?” You ask him.

“I deserve to be happy. You are what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy and the idea of getting to spend the rest of my life with you brings me so much joy. No more hiding. I want to kiss you when I want. I want to make love to you whenever I want. I want you to fuck me whenever you want. I don’t care about the dresses, the wine and the jewels. Sandor, say yes. Say yes to me.”

He feels like he must have done something to please the gods and now they were rewarding him with you. He can’t believe that you were willing to give all of this up to be with him, a second born son.

“Say something.” You tell him with tears in your eyes. Sandor brings his hands to face, cupping his hands in your face. Droplets of water are running down his arms to your chest.

“We do it but I make you mine. Make you my wife.” You let out a smile.

“What do you say, princess?” He asked you.

“This would be the last time you call me that. Next time it will be Y/n Clegane.” Sandor smiles at you before pulling you in a kiss. He liked the sound of your new name. Leaving the tub when the water became cold, Sandor and you sat by the table eating dinner as he talked about how he could sell the jewelry you offered, a few jewels without people knowing it from you. He would have to go early in the morning and in secret.

You agreed with him. Talks about the future filled the night, both of you were tired from the walk. Slow kisses and gentle touches both of you gave each other. Sandor refused when you were going to have sex with him. He can see it in your face that you were tired. He kissed the top of your head and told you, “We will have all the time in the world to make love when we are free from King's landing.”

It was dawn when Sandor snuck out of your chambers and made his way to his own. He froze outside of his door when he noticed a light coming under the door. He didn't leave any candles on. He pushes the door and walks inside. He frowns at the sight of Joffrey and Ser Meryn Trant sitting around the table in the middle of his room.

“About time.” Joffrey said with a loud sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. Sandor threw a glare at Meryn Trant who grabbed his sword that was on the table.

“We have been waiting for you all night.” Sandor shuts the door behind him and walks towards his bed.

“Went to the tavern and stayed the night at the whorehouse.” Sandor lied as he sat on his bed. His eyes went to his sword near his bed post.

“Without your armor or sword?” Joffrey asked with a smirk. “Very strange.”

“Everyone knows not to fuck with me. No need to carry all that shit.” Sandor answered him bluntly. Joffrey looks over at Ser Meryn Trant.

“I searched every whorehouse in King’s landing. You weren't there.” The knight answered.

“Where were you, Dog?” Joffrey asked. Sandor frowned at the nickname. It’s been so long that someone called him that. No one dared to disrespect him when he started to guard you. You demanded respect for him and your servants.

“My sister has such a loyal dog, Ser Meryn Trant.” Joffrey told the knight next him when Sandor did not respond.

“You're wasting my time already. We were waiting in your room all night. I know where you were, Dog.” Sandor stared hard at Joffrey.

Joffrey told him how he saw him and you walking away from the stables. A disgraceful sight, Joffrey called it. Sandor felt his heart dropped to his stomach when Joffrey mentioned how he saw him going to your chambers last night.

“What do you want?” Sandor asked, looking down at the ground. Joffrey stood up from his seat and walked towards him.

“Look at me, Dog.” Sandor’s jaw clenched but he obeyed Joffrey.

Joffrey gave him a malicious smile. “It all makes sense now. Why wouldn't she get married.”

“She is in love with the dog. How ridiculous! What a joke this is!" Joffrey cracked a laugh and looked over at Ser Meryn Trant who joined him with his own laughter. Sandor felt his mouth go dry as they laughed at him, laughed at the idea that you love him.

His laughter dies as he looks back at Sandor. “What would the king say when he hears about this? Mother would die from this news. Y/n will be stripped from her title. She will be disowned and severely punished for being with a lowborn.” Sandor felt ill to his stomach.

“Perhaps she threatened you to sleep with her. Or you raped her and she had no other choice.” Sandor stood up at his words. He never in his life had made you do something that you weren't comfortable with and you were the same to him.

“She will be punished.” Joffrey showed no fear when Sandor stood in front of him.

“Like I said. What do you want?” Sandor asked him as Ser Meryn Trant stood up from his seat. Ready to swing his sword incase Sandor harms Joffrey.

“I want her to suffer. I want her dog to go to her room and tell her you don't want her anymore. You will be my new guard. You will tell her that you don't love her and everything between you was all a lie. Tell her that you used her.” Sandor shook his head at him, he wouldn't. He couldn't do that to you. He would runaway with you today and fuck the rest. He will work to provide for you, he will do anything but he wouldn't say he doesn't love you.

“If you don't obey. I will tell my father everything. He will disown her and you will never see her again because you will be punished. You know how? You’ll be executed for raping my sister. I swear on everything, Dog. If you don't agree with this. I’ll have her head chopped off with yours.” Sandor looks away. He blinks the unshed tears away, he refuses to cry in front of Joffrey.

“I’ll give you an hour. Break her heart and report back to me.” Joffrey said he was about to leave when he looked over at Ser Meryn Trant.

“I always wanted a dog. Now I got the largest and the most dangerous of them all.” Joffrey laughed as he walked out of the room with Ser Meryn Trant behind.

Sandor looks at the door, he’s breathing heavily and tears are rolling down his face. He knew it was too good to be true. Sandor let out a growl and flipped the table over and leaned against the wall.

He doesn’t think he has the heart to break things off with you. He was strong to kill and fight but to tell you that he doesn’t love you. He couldn’t but he has too for your sake. He has to do it to keep you safe. You will hate him forever but you will be safe.

Sandor dresses for the day and walks slowly to your chambers. He sees your servants coming out of your room, it meant you were dressed as well and ready for the day.

He knocked on the door and heard your voice saying to come inside. He walks inside and shuts the door behind him. His heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you wrapping something by the vanity.

“Good Morrow, Sandor.” You tell him as you look ahead at the mirror to see him by the door.

He doesn’t say anything. You carefully wrapped the cloth and walked towards him. “I have it. These should be sold off first. I had them for a while so no one will suspect a thing.”

You tell him, holding out the jewelry for him to take. Sandor is still silent as he looks at you. You frowned when Sandor didn’t move. You grabbed his hand trying to open it so you could give him the jewelry. He doesn’t look well and it worries you.

“What’s wrong, my love?” You whispered. Sandor rips his hand from your gasp and walks back to the door.

He had his back turn to you. He couldn’t look at your face. He didn’t want to see how your face looked when he ripped his hand from your gasp. You must have looked so hurt by his action.

“This is wrong.” Sandor said as his shoulders rose up and down with each breath he took.

Before you can respond he cuts you off. “Between me and you is wrong. It must end. It’s over. I won’t be your guard anymore.”

Sandor doesn’t wait for a response. He’s about to open the door when you push him against the door and flip him over with all your might. His back hits the door and refuses to look at your face. He doesn't want to look at you, he knows if he does he’ll break down.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” You asked him.

“Sandor!” You shouted his name, the jewelry in your hands had fallen to the ground as you slapped his chest trying to catch his attention. He was ignoring you. He told you it was over.

“Tell me what’s wrong. I can help you.” You told him.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You cried out as you slapped the chest armor again. He has to do it. He has to break your heart. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, punished, or disowned for loving him.

“It’s over between us.” Sandor said, finally looking down at you. You shook your head.

“What do you mean?” You asked him, Sandor hears your voice crack.

“Sandor..”

He wants to cry but the look on your face. You looked so hurt, eyes tearful, brows knitted together in confusion. He needs to touch you one last time, hold you. He wants to remember how warm and soft you feel under his touch. His fingers are twitching to touch your face.

“What did I do? I’m sor- for whatever I did I’m so sorry.” He wants to yell at you for being so stupid. How is this your fault? How can you believe that you were the one in fault?

“Sandor, I love you. If this is about last night of me deserving all of this, I’ve told you. I told you all I want is you. I deserve to be happy and you are the only reason that makes me happy.”

‘You’re the only reason he’s happy too’, he says to himself. The words that he’s about to say kills him on the inside, it feels like bile coming up his throat.

“I changed my mind. I don’t love you. Not anymore.” You took a step back from Sandor. You place a hand on your stomach as you cry. You shook your head at him.

“I don’t believe you. You love me and I love you.” Sandor felt his tears at bay, he had to leave the room at once. You flinched at his sudden moment when he walked away from the door and towered over you giving you a scowl.

“I don’t love you anymore. Princess.” The tone of his voice drops down in a hiss.

“I never did. I just used you.” Sandor quickly turns to open the door, he does it so hard it almost comes out of the hinges. He hears you crying as he walks out of the room.

Joffrey was in his room when he heard a knock. Ser Meryn Trant opens the door when Joffrey welcomes in whoever it was. Joffrey feels like the first in his life, he won. He won on making you feel unloved just as he felt, he wished he could hear your cries right now. What he would give to see your face at this moment but it didn’t matter because his pet was waiting outside for him.

“Dog. Come in.” Joffrey said with an ominous smile.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

Taglist: @federalclassroom, @snixx2088

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 2 ✿:+ White Mare

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: slow burn, MDNI, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of parent(s) death, mention of arranged marriage, mention of prostitution, mention of NSFW themes

Word Count: 3037

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

Ever since that day in the stable you filled your days with reading, sewing, mindless activities to keep yourself busy. Anything to relieve your mind of the horrors of Kings Landing and your shameful thoughts of the giant who roamed the halls. Loras and you grew distant since you rejected his hand in marriage, in turn you spent your time with the Starks. It was hard at first to be without your only friend but you were determined to get your cousin out of this city. But it wasn’t hard when Sansa clung to you like a scared beaten dog. You were treated no better of course. But at least you knew how to handle such cruelty with a stepmother like Lysa. 

“Don’t let them see you cry,” You’d repeat holding her face “Don’t let it show. Don’t you see how much pleasure he derives from seeing you like this?” 

 Arya would teach you small things she learned during her sword training, and in all honesty it was the most fun you’d had in years. You found yourself becoming more and more invested in those little girls' well being. 

It seemed as soon as Nedd arrived in Kings Landing his time ended. 

That day seemed like a dream. You were summoned by Cersei to her Chambers.

“Has Lord Stark mentioned anything to you about the nature of your fathers death?” Cersei questioned you calmly as she poured wine into her gablet.  

“My fathers?” You asked genuinely confused, she nodded as she sipped her wine “No, your grace.”  

“Good. It would be cruel of him to spark paranoia in the mind of a grieving daughter.” She said as she paced the room with her goblet of wine in hand. 

“Paranoia?” If you weren’t before you would be now. 

Cersei interrupted you once more “Lord Stark will be arrested for treason today. Somewhat unrelated but it would seem that Lord Stark’s head is filled with paranoid thoughts.” 

You didn’t understand why your uncle was on trial for such a crime. You were just a girl to these men, they didn’t speak of such things with you, that is yet. “Little bird, you are a clever and strong girl. I know you are loyal, loyal to the Starks, they are your family. But it is important to be loyal to your allies just the same. Sometimes family will only drag us down, allies however can make us stronger.” Cersei not so subtly threatened you.

You nodded politely, as soon as you could leave you tried to find your little cousins. 

You found Arya by the stables. You noticed the men lying dead on the ground with the Stark girls baggage. You saw Arya holding her bloodied sword after pulling it out of the stable boy.

She was horrified, you approached her slowly and quietly.

“Arya” You spoke gently but that didn’t stop Arya from jumping and pointing needle at you. “Arya, you need to run.” You said softly, almost a whisper. 

She ran to you dropping needle, she wrapped her arms around you. You held her close but kneeled to her height. 

You held her face with both your hands and your eyes bore into hers. “Your family is not safe here. You are not safe here.” Your grasp on her head did not waver. “You have to find a way out, get to the city, find a way out of the city, get to the north.” 

“I can’t!” She began to whine as she cried 

“You can!” you stroked her hair trying to keep her attention “You killed those men?” 

“Just the stable boy” she cried softly

“You killed a man. That's more than most women will ever kill.” You pulled her face closer trying to make sure your words reached her  “Listen to me those men will come and they will kill you. Don’t trust anyone, never tell them your name, never tell them your house. Lie, and get good at it. Kill if you need to.” You said as you grabbed needle and put it in her hand, “Now go.” You say as you let go of her and she runs off. 

‘Good’ you thought as you watched her run away. As you watched you didn’t notice the tears that had fallen from your eyes. 

Soon enough you were summoned by Cersei to witness Nedd’s verdict. 

She didn’t anticipate what came next, and neither did you, watching the death of your uncle. 

You held Sansa through it. As she screamed and cried, you tried your best to conceal her eyes. 

Your eyes however dodged from your uncle to The Hound behind him. You hoped he would do something to stop it, but he didn’t 

And so, it happened. 

The second hand of the king died.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

He thought of it every night. 

The moment he touched you, your skin, the moment his rough hands caressed your throat. 

He rolled the thought over in his mind millions of times. Gods’, it tortured him to no end. He tried to bury himself in his duty, bury himself in any woman who looked the slightest bit like you on the Streets of Silk, even taking himself in his hand at the thought of your scent…. More than once.

The thought of you sparked resentment and anger in his chest. He was Kingsguard now, he had no use for a woman, had no use for these emotions he felt. 

He hated you for it. Hated you for the way he wanted to rip Loras’s head off anytime he saw you and him in the garden. Hated you for the way he thought of your eyes everytime he closed his eyes. Hated you for the way his mind would wonder at you at any turn even on duty. Hated you for the way his chest tightened anytime he caught even a glimpse of you around Kings Landing.  And he hated you for the way your eyes caught his. Each time it was like a deadlock, those eyes, they were a bow and arrow and they shot through him each time. 

He grumbled under his breath anytime you were near. Purposefully look away from you as if you didn’t exist. You pretended not to care, but you fought hard just to catch a single glimpse of his face. The burns that draped across the right side of his face like the sheer lace curtains you had in your room in the Eyrie that distort your view from the window. 

Neither of you had much time to think about these emotions during the following days. You were spending your time mothering Sana as she grieved her fathers death. The Hound was now King Joffrey’s personal bodyguard now that Robert was gone. A terrible task truly. 

Even worse one when your stubborn and rebellious tongue didn’t obey your better judgment around the new king. The Hound tried to convince himself he hated it, but it turned him on even if he didn’t want to admit it. He tried to keep you safe, as safe as he could. Whenever you shot an annoyed glance, a cleverly concealed insult Joffrey's way, the Hound would simply divert Joffrey’s attention to something else. But if you ever got on Joffrey's bad side he couldn’t do much, far be it from him to question a king. On Joffrey’s name day you tested his patience. Joffrey had you and his lady Sansa accompany his side during his Name Day celebration. However you felt a slight sting of joy knowing you’d be so close to him once again. But more so your stomach turned in on itself. Joffrey no doubt invited you for the explicit challenge of trying to elicit some kind of reaction from you in some way. This became clear once he continuously asked for your input on the celebratory fighting. You’d had a small fascination with combat at first. It was like a dance but with blood and swords. but soon you’d grow bored of it. 

As The Hound had beaten a man to a whimpering submissive pulp the fight was over. Joffrey clapped and cheered as The Hound removed his dog helmet.  

Still you were stunned by him. You wanted to hate him for not helping your uncle. You tried to hate him but in all honesty you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d no real power, no real way of stopping it.

“Well struck, Dog!” Joffrey shouted, and snapped you out of your trance.

Joffrey turned to you and Sansa “Did you like that?” he asked, taunting you and her. 

“It was well struck, your Grace.” Sansa replied, stoic. 

“I just said that.” Joffrey said, his eyes narrowed, his tone deepened. 

Ser Meryn looked over in Sansa’s direction. You knew what that meant, 

“I found it boring.” You chimed in, your eyes just as narrow as his. 

“You did?” He asked with the same threatening tone 

“Mm” you nodded 

“And what man did your house bring to fight?” 

“Brought no man.” You shook your head 

The Hound returned to his station by the Kings side. He pretended not to listen but he was, intensely. 

“You brought no man to my name day tournament?” He questioned further, you knew he would have taunted you further. To state it was for lack of good men or perhaps your dead father’s power died with him, that your house was to die with it.

“Not one.” Your head whipped towards Joffrey, gaze sharpening. “Not one man wished to celebrate your name day it would seem.”

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey commanded. 

You noticed the Hound's head tilt in your direction as Ser Meryn walked towards you and slapped you across your face, cutting your lip with the armor of his glove. As Ser Meryn walked away you turned your head back towards Joffrey. 

“You are a pretty girl, a little more plump than I would like, but still a pretty girl.” Joffrey said “You should be more agreeable in tone, or you might find you won't be so pretty.” He smiled as he threatened you. 

“Hm?” He waited for your response as you wiped the blood from your lip. 

As you looked up, “Do you wish for me to cry, your Grace?” you asked almost mocking. 

Joffrey began to dryly chuckle at your remark, probably about to order another hit for you as Ser Dontos Hollard stumbled onto the tournament drunkenly. The Hound cleared his throat, getting Joffrey to shift his attention towards him and not you. With his attention shifted you were safe once more.

Your eyes stayed on the Hound however. You knew what he had done for you, however subtle it was, you noticed. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

You found yourself spending more and more time near your mare. The moon shined on her just right for her coat to shine almost like metal, and your candle light shined on her just perfectly for her to glow like the sun. Lika, she was the only thing left you had from your home. You’d begin to yearn for the times you’d be furious with your fathers decisions and his useless attempts at comforting you. Because at least if he’d seen you were struck the way you had been, he’d have taken you home. He’d have helped you. But for now, you had Lika. 

As you sat in front of Lika’s stable, you read some book you’d stolen from Tyrion at some point. It was hardly interesting, infact you’d almost fallen asleep but Lika nuzzled her snout into your neck and sniffed you deeply, jolting you awake before you smiled and wrapped your arm around her head. You began to stroke the side of her head as you heard a low and deep voice beckon from the entrance of the stables. 

“Fuck are you doin’ girl.” 

Your head snapped towards him, relief befell you once you saw it was him, the Hound.

You looked back towards your book, “Reading, or I was anyway.” You replied softly

“Read in your room,” He said gruffly as his large hand opened the doors to the stable wider. He was so tall he ducked into the doorway as he walked inside. 

“I’ll decide where I read.” you said defiant as always. 

With a dry chuckle he began to walk towards you, “Words like that are the reason you got that cut on your lip.” 

“You don’t have to remind me of it.” You thought to yourself how this is exactly how you must sound to Sansa.

“Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe “You don’t want my help? Suit yourself.” He huffed “But don’t scream for me when you need it.” 

“I won’t want it.” You say softly “Anyways, you can’t help me.-” You began as he cut you off

“I helped that Tyrell you love.” He said with venom in his voice and a softness in his gaze. 

You furrowed your brows, stood up and faced him head on “And I have thanked you for it.” 

“I know you helped that Stark girl escape.” He said matter of fact

You huffed “What do you want from me?” you asked pained

“I want you to stay away from me.” 

“You seem to forget you came to me.” 

“You should run from me, you should tell me to go.”

“I don’t run.”

“That’s the fucking problem with you, girl. If you’d any sense you’d think of yourself. Change that tone of yours. Change those eyes, the way you look at people… like you want to gut them.” 

“I do want to.” 

“Stubborn” he chuckled darkly “Stubborn will get you beaten.” 

“Why did you come for me?” 

“I saw the light-“

“No. If it were anyone else you’d’ve gone on your way by now.” 

“Fuck does it matter?” 

“Sandor-”

“Don’t call me that.”  He hissed

“Tell me,” You say, raising a hand to his scarred cheek. He flinched and backed away quickly. His scowl deepened. He moved away from you, he turned to face outside the stables. “You wrapped your hand round my throat, and you won't let me touch your cheek?” 

“It’s different, you’re not ruined.” He said whilst he stared into the nothingness outside the stable doors. 

“Am I not?” You asked, your words felt sharp. 

“No, no you are not.” His words felt gentler. 

“I’ve no one, I’ve only this cage I sit in.” 

“You’ve got someone,” He scoffed over his shoulder at me, my eyes looking up at him widening against my will. “You’ve got that Tyrell,” You huffed, “That stark child that follows you like a bloody shadow.” He looked back into the night, “I’ve got no one,” 

“You do,” You say without noticing how bold it was until he turned to you, “Or you would, if you’d let them.” 

“My brother.” he mumbled, his head hung low as he walked closer to you. “Pressed my cheek to the fire.” He finished, unwilling to give anything else. “I know you’ve heard the story, Baelish, that cocksucking rat, no doubt told you.” 

“Course he did.” You didn’t lie, you never could to him. “But I asked you.”

He smirked slightly, his head still slightly turned away from you not wanting you to see. 

Your hand rose to caress his cheek, you did it slowly. He flinched his head away slightly and in turn you pulled your hand back slightly. As his head came back, moving closer towards you. You moved your hand to his cheek once more, slowly. He grabbed your wrist before it could make contact with his face.  

“Look at me,” He hissed “I’m a killer, the things I’ve done-” He thought back on those things “You don’t want this girl.” His grip on your wrist did not loosen, as if he was genuinely trying to protect you. “You’ll wed some lord, you’ll have his sons, and you’ll be far and gone from this shit city.” 

“I don’t want to wed a lord.” Your eyes now are not so hateful but sad. 

“World, doesn’t give a fuck what you want.” His hand reached out, slightly cupped the back of your head, hardly touching. He ran his hand down the length of your hair. Once he reached the end of it he held a lock of it in his hand to examine the color in the candle light. His deep, rich brown eyes reached yours once more. He could swear yours sparkled in any light. 

“I’ll walk you to your chamber.” He said gruffly, peeling his eyes away with yours. He grabbed the book in your hand and walked towards the doors of the stables. 

You let out a staged huff as you followed him. 

As he led you through the halls you realized that you were doing just that, following him. He knew where your chambers were and knew how to get there swiftly. 

The thought lit a fire in your chest. 

As he arrived at your door he stopped, as you opened it you turned to look at him. 

“You stole this from the imp.” He grumbled as he held up the book you did in fact steal. 

Your eyes went from the book to him, “Are you going to report me to the Queen.” You said, you smiled slightly with your eyes. Testing him and his loyalties. He growled under his breath and walked off.

The way you tested his patience stirred something in him. 

He’d definitely be taking himself in his hand that night again.

Is love the death of duty.  Or is duty the death of love?

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Between a Wolf and a Hound I

Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x Baratheon!Reader

Summary: Sandor Clegane was never naïve enough to think he could marry the king's daughter but it doesn't make it any easier to see her married off.

Warnings: Full disclosure I wrote this in sections over the course of like two months so it's a bit jumbled. POV will randomly switch from first to third and back to first with no clear indication (sorry).

Real Warnings: Arranged marriage, cursing, angst, fighting, smut, public consummation, non/dubcon (didn't enter marriage willingly, therefore consummation is not consensual esp with witnesses)

Word Count: 5.8K

Masterlist | Part II

“Ooh and I’ve heard Robb Stark is the most handsome man in all of the North,” my sister, Myrcella squealed in excitement for me.

I tried my best to feign the same excitement, especially in the presence of my mother. She initially wasn’t particularly thrilled about the betrothal between the Stark heir and me but it was my father’s decision. So, making the best of an unideal situation, she had been grooming me to be a perfect princess and wife. “Myrcella, princesses don’t gush,” Cersei chastised. My sister’s excited expression quickly dropped and she looked down at her feet. Fortunately before my mother could turn her poison tongue on me, there were a few shouts calling for us to halt and the carriage stopped.

Cersei opened the curtain to the carriage window, revealing the barren land of the North, a looming wall of stone obstructing our view of what I assumed to be Winterfell. Of course there wasn’t much of a view to be found in the North. Everything was cold and grey, either dead or dying. The only thing that kept me me from casting myself from the towers of the Red Keep was the fact that in the north, my family wouldn’t bother me. I could be away from the schemings of the Lannisters and the general sense of betrayal within King’s Landing. “Remember, you curtesy and smile politely. You speak only if spoken to and then it’s right off to your chambers until dinner,” my mother told me.

“Yes, mother,” I agreed, nodding my head obediently. The carriage moved again shortly and I watched as the walls moved past us, bringing us into a cold courtyard. After another minute the door to our carriage swung open, letting in a gust of cold wind.

Myrcella crept out first, being met by a guard. I made my way to the door next, revealing my sworn shield, Sandor Clegane. I was relieved to see him, seeing as I haven’t been able to speak to him since we left King’s Landing. “Princess,” he greeted. I only stared up at him, reluctant to let him lead me to greet my future husband, a task he didn’t take pleasure in either.

A gentle tug on my hand brought me back to reality and I let him march me up to my father and brothers. I could feel Sandor’s presence behind me as I observed the Stark family. The young man, who I presumed to be Robb had his gaze on me before looking up, likely to meet the glare of my lover.

Robb quickly averted his gaze from the intimidating guard flanking his betrothed. He returned his gaze to her, admiring her summer beauty. He knew he could fall in love with her just as his parents had after they were married.

I didn’t pay attention to to the reunion of my father and Lord Stark, just wishing to run back to the warm summer of King’s Landing with Sandor.

As my father began to suggest a tour my mother cut in. “I suggest we send the girls to their chambers until the feast.”

“I will escort-” Robb began to offer but was quickly cut off both by Sandor’s growl and Cersei’s sneer.

“No, The Hound and a maid will escort them,” she dismissed.

“Of course your grace,” Lady Stark obeyed, calling for a servant to fetch her most trusted maid.

Not even a minute later a very out of breath woman scurried in. “This way your highnesses,” she quickly cut to the chase, beginning to lead us away. I followed after her first, Myrcella reluctantly following, disappointed at the loss of excitement, and Sandor surely following behind.

We wordlessly walked through the cold hallways until we reached two rooms. Myrcella took the first one and I took the second. I was reluctant to leave Sandor but he stoically took his position outside the doors.

The room was large with a canopy bed in the center between two windows. There was a washroom and closet attached. I was surprised to find my trunk laid at the foot of my bed.

Heading towards the window I found nothing but miles of grey trees lying just beyond the walls of Winterfell. My mind wandered to all the horrific creatures that could live in these woods as well as beyond the Wall that separated Westeros from the rest of the continent. But before I could delve too deep into those thoughts, the opening of my chamber door interrupted me. Turning around I found Sandor. I opened my mouth to greet him but he spoke before I could. “I don’t want you marrying that cunt.”

I sighed. This wasn’t a new topic, I was betrothed the minute I was born, and neither Sandor nor I were naïve enough to think that we could ever be married. “I know, I don’t want to marry him either.” I approached him, wrapping my arms around his large frame. “I don’t want to live here,” I nearly began to cry. “It’s cold and I don’t know anyone and no one will let me bring guards or servants that I’ve known all my life.”

“Fuck ‘em I’ll be here with you,” he swore, tightening his arms around me.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that while I’m married off to someone else.”

“I’ve known this would happen the whole time, I’m not leaving you with strangers,” he grunted out. “Besides you and I both know you’re mine.”

“I am,” I heard myself agree, pushing up onto my toes to press my lips to his. Sandor still having to lean down to kiss me because of his stature.

I pulled back a little, not expecting to do anymore than kiss him right now but his lips followed. I allowed our lips remain connected as I felt his hands reach under my ass and thighs. He lifted me up, taking the short trek to my temporary bed for the time we stayed.

Laying me down gently he got right to work hoisting my dress up to my hips, never disconnecting our lips. I let out a soft moan into his mouth as his fingers briefly brushed over my clit. In an experienced move he tugged at my undergarments, leaving my core vulnerable to him.

Quickies were a regular occurrence for us seeing as our relationship was forbidden and I was hardly every left alone. We had to make the most of our time together.

In a well practiced move Sandor had his armor and pants down, exposing his length to me. I felt his cock drag up my already wet slit, teasing me slightly before pressing inside me. I tried to muffle my gasp at the sudden intrusion, wary of what may lie just beyond the walls of the room.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Sandor grunted in my ear, continuing to thrust himself inside of me. His hand slipped down to where our bodies met, his fingers finding my clit once again. I let out a soft moan, wrapping my legs around his waist at the feeling. “I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” he groaned out. “This pussy is mine.”

“It’s yours,” I agreed with a moan. He then suddenly pulled out of me and I whined at the loss. He reached for the only spare piece of fabric to catch his seed, my panties. I watched breathlessly as he fisted his cock twice, cumming into my panties with a muffled groan.

Once he had thoroughly milked himself dry he tucked the soiled fabric into his armor before delving in between my thighs. He wasted no time licking at my already leaking hole. I involuntarily let out a soft moan, reaching down to grip his hair in order to ground myself.

It didn’t take me long to finish as my lover had his face pressed against my weeping core. And when I did cum on his face he simply took the panties he had used earlier to clean myself and him up before tucking them back into his armor. “Did so good for me, Princess,” he praised, pressing a rare, gentle kiss to my forehead. I relaxed into his touch, enjoying the comfort of his large frame.

He began to get up but my arms slid around his broad chest. “Wait, just… stay with me a moment?” He hesitated for a second before relaxing against me once again, wrapping me in his embrace as I had done to him.

“I can’t stay too long, little one,” he explained softly.

“I know I just need you right now,” I murmured, pressing my face into the crook of his neck.

~

I was jolted awake by a knock on my door. My thoughts were immediately of ‘how do I explain why my guard is in my bed?’ but I found myself alone. Relieved, I called whoever knocked in.

“You fell asleep?!” I heard my mother gasp. “You’ll have to change quickly,” she groaned, immediately going to my trunk. She angrily sifted around until she found a suitable gown, tossing it onto the bed. “Get dressed, The Hound will be here to escort you to dinner soon. Myrcella is already dressed,” she spat. Cersei had always favored my siblings over me, I suspect because I took after my father while they looked more like Lannisters. She had always taken great pride in her Lannister name, not Baratheon although she loved her title as Queen even more.

“Yes mother,” I obeyed, grasping the dress as she exited, slamming the door behind her.

I quickly slipped out of my traveling clothes into the more ornate dress. I managed to get it on alright but struggled with some of the bindings in the back. Fortunately Sandor came to my rescue, knocking on the door gently before letting himself in. “Do you want some help, Princess?” he asked half mockingly.

I sent him a glare before begrudgingly agreeing. I could feel the warmth radiating off Sandor as he stepped up behind me, grabbing the laces. He gave an unexpected sharp tug, causing me to stumble backwards into him. “Woah, Princess.” He caught me before pushing me back up onto my feet.

“Not that tight,” I told him. He adjusted, tying my dress snugly before stepping back. I looked up at him sadly seeing as this feast would be my formal introduction to my husband.

Upon reaching the hall full of cheers, laughter, and music, I was ready to turn back and run to the stables in order to find myself a horse to bring me home. But I steeled myself like the princess I am and marched into the room. Those who noticed my presence stepped aside and bowed their heads but most were already too drunk to notice. My father was already dancing with a servant directly in my mother’s eyeline. Fortunately she was too focused on my father as well as the Stark women to notice me. So I quickly found a goblet of wine, going to a remote wall with Sandor dutifully following after.

As I leaned up against the wall, I offered Sandor a drink but he just shook his head in refusal. “You never deny wine,” I stared at him quizzically.

His gaze never found mine, instead his eyes continued sweeping the room. “‘m working. Gotta keep you safe.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” I challenged. “You and I both know it takes far more than a glass of wine to intoxicate you.”

“I don’t trust these cunts,” Sandor answered, glaring at the rest of the room.

“Why? They seem like perfectly fine people. No worse than the people in King’s Landing.”

“I don’t trust the people in King’s Landing either.”

“Well I hardly doubt anyone will attempt to harm me at the feast to honor my father. Please relax, enjoy yourself.”

“That thinking is why you need a guard, little one.”

I just huffed, continuing to observe the room. Everyone was drunk and laughing with the exception of a few guards and women. My mother and Lady Stark looked quite stoic as they conversed occasionally. My youngest siblings sat with our uncle, Tyrion, while my younger brother, Joff, sat making eyes at Sansa, the second Stark child.

Meanwhile the eldest Stark was making his way over to me. “Princess,” he greeted, taking my hand gently. “Ser,” he looked up at Sandor, “might I borrow the princess for a moment? Get her acquainted to her new home?”

Sandor made no expression except to follow us. “He won’t allow me out of his sight, Queen’s orders,” I informed Robb.

“Ah, yes, well I suppose the maintenance of a princess’ safety and virtue are principal,” Robb mused as we exited the feast hall. “And your brother, the heir, he is…”

“A prick,” I filled in for him. “Don’t call him that to anyone but me but everyone knows it. Everyone but my mother, he can do no wrong in her eyes. Even my father isn’t thrilled that he is the one that will inherit the Iron Throne. I know he’s been making eyes at your sister, I’d advise both our fathers to keep them separated. They’re already joining our houses through us.”

“I don’t think Sansa will take too kindly to that,” Robb laughed. “She is holding firm in her belief that she will be queen.”

“Advise her that queen is a position one should not covet. The kings have their men, their counsels, and their whores. Queens have less authority than any other woman. And she’d be dodging attacks from all my relatives for the rest of her life.”

“You seem relieved to be leaving King’s Landing,” Robb observed.

I shrugged, looking out a window into the dark, cold, barren land on the North. “My father is refusing to allow me to bring any comforts of home. Please don’t take offense but the North is strange to me and I’m not even allowed to bring any familiar servants or guards. Even my sworn shield, Sandor, must leave me.”

Robb took a second to observe my guard. “My mother came here, alone much like you will. She tells me she was terrified to live in the North but she has found happiness here.” Robb’s hand reached up to softly stroke my cheekbone. “I sincerely hope you too will find happiness here, little doe. And I will speak to my father about your guard. If anyone can convince the King, it is Lord Stark,” he smiled before walking off. I looked around, realizing that he had led us to my chambers, giving me an excuse to retire for the night.

So I entered the room, Sandor following me inside. “Robb is… honorable,” I said.

Sandor just grunted. He’d never admit it but if she was going to be married off to any lord, Robb Stark was probably the best choice. He seemed to take her feelings into consideration rather than drag her into his life in the North.

~

By the next day Winterfell had shifted from celebrations of the king to celebrations of the next Lord Stark’s marriage. The fortress’ servants were bustling around for wedding preparations while the dressmakers of both King’s Landing and the north constantly flitted around the princess. “The princess cannot possibly be married in such… rough materials. A princess dresses in silks and fine linens,” my mother’s seamstress argued, gesturing to the trunk full of fine fabrics.

“The princess cannot be married if she freezes to death,” Lady Stark’s seamstress said for the hundredth time. “It is customary for northern women to wear furs to their weddings.” I just sat on a bench, deep into my wine as they continued to bicker.

“But the queen-”

“She will be of the North!”

“‘Of north,’ ‘of south,’ gods,” I groaned to Sandor as he stood beside me. “I may as well just walk down the aisle naked seeing as this dress will never be made.”

Sandor chucked from beside me. He kept his voice low so the women wouldn’t be heard but they were so wrapped up in their bickering I doubt they’d notice if we had begun kissing. “I’m sure the queen will have her way and you’ll be married in the finest of silks whether or not you freeze to death.”

“If my mother had her way I’d be blonde and marrying one of my Lannister cousins,” I mumbled.

“Well, I’d rather you marry the Stark boy than any of the Lannister cunts.” I just hummed, keeping my focus on the glass lightly pressed to my lips. The door then opened, revealing Lady Stark and Robb.

I stood up, giving a slight curtsy to my soon to be mother-in-law. “We heard your dress is being made and we wanted to show you this,” Lady Sark said, gesturing to the bundle of fur in Robb’s arms.

He stepped closer to me. “This is the cloak I will present you at our wedding. This will be the cloak I wear when I am made Lord of Winterfell. Stark Lords present their cloaks to their brides as a display of honor and my duty to you.”

I looked down at the cloak in awe, reaching my hand up to touch the fine furs. They were soft and thick, more than enough to keep me warm. “Thank you, my Lord. Believe me, the sincerity of this gesture is not lost upon me.” I looked up, finding Robb’s smile.

Lady Stark smiled upon seeing how the soon to be couple interacted. It was clear that Robb was taken with the girl and she was relieved a royal Baratheon-Lannister was kind and fair. That she didn’t treat Robb and the rest of the Starks as lesser than. Or show contempt for being moved north.

I turned, finding the dressmakers still quietly bickering. “The dress will be of Southern style and material but I want the embroidery to be Northern. I trust the dress paired with the cloak will be acceptable to both cultures?” I asked rhetorically. The two dressmakers gave me nodded agreements. “Tell my mother of my plans, I’m sure she’ll take issue with it but she will want to know,” I told the southern seamstress.

“If you want your part of the wedding to have southern influence I don’t mind,” Robb began.

“The southern traditions are simply to appease the Lannisters. Believe me I am anxious to be separated from many aspects of my former life.” All aspects except Sandor.

He offered a small smile. “Well then, I hope the North provides a better home for you,” he said before leaving with his mother.

“Spoken like the true Lady of the North,” Sandor said in a mildly mocking tone.

I just looked at the northern dressmaker. “Leave us for a few moments.” She complied, scurrying out of the room. “Sandor…”

“You didn’t like your life in King’s Landing? Too many servants prepared to get you whatever your heart desires?” he spat, venom on his tongue. He knew his anger was misplaced but he couldn’t help but burst. He was angry at the king for marrying her off and not allowing him to stay. Angry at the Starks for falling in love with her so quickly. And angry at the princess for slipping into this life without him so easily. “Too many guards risking their lives, dying to protect you? Did the noise of me fighting to defend your honor disturb your slumber?” He was circling her as he spoke while she just stood in the center of the room.

“Sandor, you know that’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice strained.

“Then what did you mean?” he sneered.

“When I said I was anxious to leave my former life that did not include you. It will never include you. I do not rejoice in the pain I’m sure I’m dragging you through but have you failed to consider that I’m in pain too?”

Sandor knew he should stop but he didn’t. “I’m sure your husband can take your mind off of that whilst you warm his bed.” The hurt look on her face at that comment was nearly enough to make him forget his rage. Nearly. “I’ll send the seamstresses back in, don’t leave this room until I come back,” he growled.

“Is that all I am to you? Something to warm your cock?” I spat making him stop dead in his tracks. “What? Did you just want to fuck a princess so you could brag to the others? And I just became this pest you couldn’t get rid of?”

Sandor sighed. “No, little one. You’re more than that.” And with that, he walked out. I knew his last words were an apology and that he needed some time.

~

I stood before my parents in my father’s chambers, begging for them to let me keep Sandor. “Father, please. I’ll have no one here. There is no one familiar to me in the north.”

“I’m sorry my dear but we cannot spare the Hound to you and only you. Besides, it would be an insult to the Starks’ promise to keep you from harm if we left a guard with you.”

“Robb has already given his blessing,” I insisted.

“We need him,” my mother spoke up. “Your time with the Hound and with our protection is over. It’s time for the Starks to take care of you. As the heir to the Iron Throne, your brother needs him more.”

“But he has been my guard these past three years.”

“That’s enough,” my father chastised. “Leave, go get ready for your wedding.” Unable to ignore a direct order, I turned, leaving the room like a scared puppy. As I stepped out the door and down the hall, Sandor found his step beside me. He allowed his fingers to find mine, intertwining them briefly before letting go for fear that we would be spotted.

We made our way to what would serve as my and the other Stark women’s dressing room. But before I went in, I hesitated. I looked up at Sandor. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too, little one,” he murmured before opening the door for mw.

I was immediately confronted with the Stark women. Lady Stark, Sansa, and Arya were all dressed in formal northern dresses. Servants were flittering around them, doing the finishing touches on their outfits and hair. When they saw me, several descended, bringing me towards a vanity. They sat me down, immediately undoing the fastenings in my hair so they could redo it for the wedding. I stared blankly in the mirror as they did my hair. I could hear Arya fussing about her gown and hair, Lady Stark trying to soothe her while Sansa continued directing the servant doing her hair.

After a while of more tugging they finally deemed my hair good enough. There were several intricate braids twisted in it, pulling my hair back. A northern hairstyle. They then ushered me to put on my dress. It was white and made of mostly silk, tied tightly around my neck and lower back to keep it on me. The gold threaded embroidery on the hem showed scenes of nature in a Northern stitching style. Decorative gold chains also fell against my arms and up my back. As everyone stepped back to see a shiver went up my spine and I realized the dress was backless. I approached the mirror, turning to see the silk of the dress begin again at the dimples of my lower back.

“A bit nippy for the North,” I laughed.

“We’ll get you in that cloak soon enough,” Lady Stark smiled. “Leave us,” she ordered, all of the servants filing out. “You too,” she told her daughters. They complied with little argument and soon enough it was just the two of us. “Are you ready for the ceremony tonight?”

I blinked confusedly. “What ceremony?”

“The bedding ceremony. You didn’t know?” she asked, surprised. “Oh I’m so sorry my dear,” she placed a hand on my arm. “Lord Stark and I tried to fight it but the Lannisters insisted. Said it was tradition and was the only way to ensure the marriage.” She recognized my panicked expression, immediately going to soothe me. “No, no it’ll be alright. It’s a dull affair. Trust me, no one wants to be in that room. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Did you have one? A public bedding ceremony?” I asked.

“Well no but—”

I moved to sit down, it felt as if I couldn’t breathe. But before I could burst into tears and ruin all the prep work that was put in to making me look as flawless as possible, there was a knock on the door. My father entered, a cheery smile on his face. “There is going to be a bedding ceremony and no one told me?” I asked angrily.

His smile dropped and he sighed. “I’m sorry. Your Uncle Jamie and grandfather insisted on it. You’ll be alright, your mother and I had one. And many princes, princesses, lords, and ladies have had one before you.” Seeing as there was no time to argue or to have a breakdown I took a breath, steeling myself just as my mother had taught me in the face of adversary. “Atta girl,” he praised, seeing my now calm exterior.

I took his arm, allowing him to lead me outside. We headed to the Godswood of Winterfell, meeting the cold outside with shivers. I could not believe I let my dress be of southern influence. "Why is the wedding outside?" I asked between shivers.

"Ned said that Robb had always wanted to be married in front of the Weirwood Heart Tree. I just nodded as we reached the center of the woods.

I stood at the end of the aisle, holding my father’s arm as I faced the rest of my life standing in front of the tree. As the orchestra began I took in-sync steps with my father until I was at the end of the aisle. Robb stepped towards me, taking my hand and lead me to the Septon. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. I could not muster any words so I just gave him a small smile.

As I took my place beside Robb the Septon spoke. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Robb then took the cloak he promised me from his back, wrapping it around my shoulders with a swing, bringing both arms around me. I was grateful to feel its warmth, but it was so large and heavy it nearly slipped off my shoulders but he caught it, fastening it around my throat. He then took my hand, facing the Septon who wrapped our hands together in cloth. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Let it be known that Y/N of House Baratheon, born of Lannister, princess of the Seven Kingdoms, and Robbert of House Stark, born of Tully, the heir to the Lord of Winterfell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby sinew these two souls binding them as one for eternity,” he smiled. “Look upon one another, and say the words.”

I turned slightly, facing Robb as he did the same and we began to speak in unison. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.

“I am hers and she is mine,

“I am his and he is mine,

“From this day until the end of my days,” we finished together.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Robb declared before pulling my body to his, his arms around my waist. I reached my hand up to his face as our lips connected. When we separated I could finally hear the cheers of the Starks and their guests. Meanwhile my family clapped politely as Robb took my hand with a large grin, leading me down the aisle.

~

I snapped out of my daze, realizing that Robb had placed food on my plate. I rushed to thank him, hoping my mental absence wasn’t too noticeable.

A small smile formed on his face. “You’re not really one for large gatherings or ceremonies are you? At your father’s feast you stood secluded with the only person you trust. Then at our wedding you only seemed to be paying attention when you were looking at me.”

I looked down at the table, a little embarrassed. “No, not really. Embarrassing isn’t it? A princess who cannot face a crowd.”

“You’re Lady of the North now. I can handle all the formalities,” he smiled. I returned it gratefully.

As the night wore on more people came up to our table to give us congratulations and present their gifts. Robb spoke mostly, always gracious. He was already a great leader.

“So my mother tells me you were a bit blindsided by the bedding ceremony?” he asked. I looked down at my lap, fiddling with the table cloth. “I cannot believe your relatives would be so cruel to not tell you it was happening.”

“I think they were cruel to suggest it in the first place. Although I think they didn’t tell me for fear that I’d run away,” I laughed. Robb joined me.

“It’ll be alright, and please don’t judge my capabilities as your husband from tonight alone. I have no intentions of being a selfish lover but I am told we cannot leave until I finish. They don’t expect you too…”

“Right, of course,” I agreed, placing my hand on top of his. “Do whatever you need to get us out of there as quickly as possible.”

A new presence in front of us interrupted our deal-making. “It’s time,” my mother announced. I nodded, standing up with a shaky breath. I followed her through Winterfell until we reached a remote room. “Remember, just lie back it will all be over soon,” she advised me. As much as she held resentment for her first daughter being Robert’s child as well, she still held some love for her daughter and couldn’t help but pity the poor girl who was about to go through the most traumatic experience of her life.

“But mother, what if I don’t bleed like I’m supposed to?” I cried, terrified of what they would do to me.

“Not everyone bleeds,” Cersei assured me. “I didn’t and I still became Queen. You will be fine. Now go.”

I wanted to cry as the doors opened. Inside was a single “bed.” It being merely a mattress on top of a bed frame with no coverings to shield myself aside from a sheet meant to display the loss of my virginity. Several men lined the walls of the room, there to assure the consummation of my marriage. I recognized all the Lannister men as well as Lord Stark and cringed as I saw my father. But my heart sunk when I found Sandor’s gaze. I didn’t want him to have to see this.

A lower lord waved his hand over to the bed, gesturing for me to get in. I began to crawl onto it when a voice stopped me. “Disrobe, girl,” I heard a man sneer. I burned with humiliation as I was forced to remove the beautiful dress within everyone’s view, leaving me vulnerable to a few greedy men’s gaze.

I laid on the bed, trying my best to cover myself with my hands, refusing to look anyone in the face.

Soon enough the door opened again and Robb entered, looking nervous as well. But I watched him steel himself as he marched confidently over to my bed, stripping off his armor as he went. By the time he stood next to the bed he was bare as well, his cock standing up already.

Also wanting to get this over with, he swung his body up onto the bed, his hips hovering just above mine. I could feel his cock already pressing against my most intimate areas.

Robb leaned down as if to kiss me but whispered “I’m sorry,” first. His lips met mine before he quickly reached down to guide himself inside of me. I gasped in pain as he pressed into my completely dry hole.

He began to thrust quickly while I heard myself let out soft whimpers of pain. I tried to recede back into my mind but was unsuccessful as the pain was too much. I even heard myself beg him to stop a few times. But Robb would just lean down and whisper something about almost being done. He would continue chasing his pleasure as he tried to complete the task so we could both retire for the night.

Desperate for help I glanced around the room, not thinking clearly as I should have known that these men would not help me. Most of their gazes were almost bored, focusing on where Robb and I were connected in order to verify our union. I noticed a few lustful gazes from lords whose names I did not know. When I found Sandor I noticed his disassociated expression, something I did not blame him for.

Soon enough I heard Robb groan in my ear before I felt something I had never experienced. Robb released his ropes of cum inside of me, allowing his seed to coat my walls in hopes I would produce him an heir.

He stilled inside of me for a moment, not pulling out until he caught his breath. When he did I felt his seed trickle out of me and I looked down in between my legs, relieved to find blood. In their eyes my virginity had been taken even though the real deflowerer was acting as an observer.

Before I was allowed to move, Robb crawled off of me, quickly finding his pants. Next the King, my father, stood up to observe the proof of our consummation between my legs. I knew it was because he was the king but I still felt that he shouldn’t have to be the one to confirm.

He merely glanced quickly, giving me the slightest bit of dignity before dismissing the men. They all filed out as a maid came, bringing me a silk robe. I took it graciously, standing up so she could take the sheet.

Once I was sure the men had all cleared from the immediate hallways I ran out, desperate to find Sandor before someone sent me to Robb’s chambers.

~

Masterlist | Part II

[sunnflow3rshowers]

Rp Search

In this year of Our Lord 2023, Omegle has fallen. (RIP) So here I am, laying all of this out, desperate to find more rp partners. I am 27, so I am only really interested in rping with people that are 21+. I am interested in both fandom and OC rps, depending on the mood and all of that. I will list the fandoms I'm looking for, as well as who I play, and general themes. I am a third person, literate roleplay, I stick to 1-2 paragraphs, but the length can always fluctuate depending on the roleplay and my roleplay partners. When it comes to RPs, I like them light and soft. I also like them dark and heavy, with lots of Whump, Angst, and Hurt/Comfort, as well as some darker themes that would require trigger warnings, all of which will be discussed privately, of course.

I prefer MxM for fandom rps, although there are some small exceptions for specific ships. I"m more open to MxF and FxF, and other pairings with more OC rps. With most Fandom Rps, I am looking for Shipping Rps, aka a Merthur rp, Kylux Rp, etc

Fandoms!

Fandom: Who I play

Teen wolf: Stiles Stilinski The Old Guard: Nicky Star Wars: Luke Skywalker, Armitage Hux Umbrella Academy: Klaus Stranger Things: Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington The Hobbit: Bilbo Baggins The Witcher: Jaskier Kingsman: Eggsy Unwin ATLA: Sokka Our Flag Means Death: Lucius Spriggs Gotham: Oswald Cobblepot Merlin: Merlin Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid Hannibal: Will Graham Arcane: Viktor Spider-Man: Peter Parker (NOT MCU) GOT: Sansa (only paired with Sandor Clegane) The Eternals: Makkari (only paired with Druig) Detroit Become Human: Connor Good Omens: Aziraphale Agents of Shield: Fitz (as gay and not paired with Simmons) FAHC: Jack (fem) Yugioh: Joey Wheeler Person of Interest: Harold Finch Haikyuu: Suga, kenma X-men: Charles Xavier The Boys: Hughie White Collar: Neal The Goldfinch: Theo Hunter X Hunter: Kurapika, Shalnark Barry: No-ho Hank IT: Eddie Hawaii 5-0: Danny Daredevil (netflix): Foggy, James Wesley Fantastic Beasts: Credence Vikings: Athelstan OC Fandoms! Hit me up if you want to talk about rps in any of these. In these sorts of rps I am 110% down to double up if you play canon against my oc, all of which can be talked and discussed privately! Marvel Xmen GOT Star Wars Barry General Rps! I am a huge fan of brainstorming rps with general themes! Fantasy Horror Drama Sci-fi Cyberpunk Etc! Please please just reach out and I'm always going to be happy to brainstorm! If you made it this far, thank you so much! If you are interested, like this, leave a comment, send me a dm, or add me on discord @ sunnflow3rshowers !

[dez78]

Multi-Fanfiction Blog

--------------------------------------------------------------

My name is Dez, I write in a lot of fandoms. Including video games, movies, and tv shows. Healthily into vampires and elves. (Not really though, I'm obsessed.)

This blog is poly safe and LGBTQ safe.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I usually write for female characters, unless you guys want to request otherwise, I don't want to exclude anyone. See down below at the lists of dos and don’ts for me and my writing! 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Requests are open and welcome, ask away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

What I will write: 

 Smut

Fluff

Hurt to comfort

Light Bondage

Angst

I'm also open to writing for your ocs if you wish.

I will write about my ocs as well.

Dom and Sub

Character Redemption or Character Condemnation

AU

Tame Kinks

What I won’t write: 

I won’t write about hard core slapping during intimate scenes (Only booty taps)

Being called slut or whore, or partners being disrespectful to each other (unless it’s during an argument and they don’t mean it later) 

Nothing with an excessive amount of spit, and hard-core bdsm. 

Won’t write about incest, unless it’s for the Game of Thrones franchise.

Nothing derogatory or abusive (Unless it's for a specific setting)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

RULES FOR MY PAGE: No destructive criticism, no negative comments, if you don’t like my writing then don’t read it, please (Constructive Criticism is welcomed)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fandoms and Characters I will write for: 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baldur’s Gate 3: 

Astarion

Shadowheart

Gale

Durge

Tav

Ocs

Star Wars (Clone Wars)

Fives

Rex

Wolffe

Anakin 

Obi-Wan

Plo Koon 

Hondo

Ahsoka

Jango Fett

Boba Fett

Ocs

Fallout 4: 

Hancock

Nick Valentine

Nate 

Nora

Danse

Piper

Mara (R4)

Heather 

Ellen

Yekvad Company (My OCs)

Ocs

Skyrim: 

Rumarin

Vilkas

Harkon

Roggi Knot-Beard

Ondolemar

Inigo

Lucien

Serana

Dragonborn

Caryalind

Taliesin 

Ocs

True Blood: 

Eric Northman 

Sookie Stackhouse 

Jason Stackhouse 

Jessica Hamby

Ocs

Witcher (Netflix and Witcher 3): 

Geralt 

Yennefer

Jaskier

Ciri

Ocs

LOTR: 

Legolas

Aragorn 

Thranduil 

Kili

Ocs

GOT: 

The Hound (Sandor Clegane)

Jon Snow 

Jaime Lannister

Ocs

[vdragoncatgirl]

Winter’s Dragonfire

chapter 3 - blackwater

the hound/sandor clegane x targaryen female oc

roughly follows canon timeline (tv)

From a dinasty once defeated, a child with unmistakable silver hair was born in the frosted lands of the North. Her journey east awaits with a kiss of fire.

words: 4080

notes: +18 content! a very interesting chapter that i’m really proud of 🤭 these first three chapters are my beloved, and the next to come also have doozies for you all. also posted in AO3 (link below)

Inside of Rhaenys’ new chambers, she sat in the sunlight and contemplated the beautiful view from the big window of the room she had been put in. It was not at all the same kind of space reserved for lords, ladies or royalty, but certainly the fanciest bedchamber the girl had ever been in. Though the days were just as empty and dull as before, she had more resources to entertain herself there, like staring out the window and listening to gossip in the corridor by sitting next to the door. Now she realised she was probably eating at least the same as the servants rather than the scraps of their meals, and it was good enough for her. She had a bath every few days and wasn’t in any place to complain except for an overwhelming sense of solitude. She longed to see another person, anybody, to walk somewhere again and talk to those whose voices she could hear in the dead of night. Whenever she heard heavy footsteps in the halls, she liked to imagine it was the Clegane man walking through the corridor. But no one ever summoned her again.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that the girl would finally push herself out of that room as she heard a loud commotion going on all around the castle. People were running through the halls and talking loudly, some were screaming and every voice was hasty and afraid. It wasn’t long until Rhaenys was afraid, too. She glued her ear to the door and tried to make out at least something that could indicate what was going on as people ran by.

— … blackwater — she heard.

— … Stannis..

— … women to the basement..

Rhaenys was nothing if not quick witted, at least enough to conclude: Stannis Baratheon. He’s invading Blackwater Bay.

The girl had done enough research and read enough messages from her father’s ravens to know that that invasion had only been a matter of time. It seemed that now the time was over. Her heart started to race. The Baratheons were the head behind the usurping of the Targaryen dynasty, and their hatred towards them was well known. Even though Robert Baratheon was dead, Rhaenys feared getting in Stannis’ hands could be just as bad, maybe worse than any plan the Lannisters had for her. This is the time to flee, she thought. No one would bother guarding her or making sure she couldn’t escape during an invasion. She looked around trying to figure something out, but the door was always locked and the window was well above any sort of ground.

She picked up a metal chair that stood near a little table on the opposite side to the bed with some effort. Physical strength was definitely not something she had been blessed with, but it was still worth trying. She grabbed it hard and slammed the chair’s legs into the wooden door with a loud bang. It didn’t even bulge, of course, and so the girl repeated the effort several times. After her arms ached and she could barely hold the chair anymore, she let go of it and analysed the door to see that some of the metal parts had been slightly damaged. Rhaenys kicked it several times until her legs were painful and itchy, but nothing happened.

The girl sat on the floor in front of the door and growled in frustration. Tears formed in her eyes and she sobbed angrily, grabbing on her face and hair tightly until she accidentally touched one of her burns. It hurt like hell, but the scream she let out was one of anguish and anger rather than pain. Rhaenys got up and paced around the room, often times looking through the window and briefly considering taking the risk of climbing down of even jumping. But she considered that even she managed to the ground without getting hurt, outdoors on the Red Keep it would be much more likely she would bump into soldiers. And that was not something she could risk. It would be better to remain imprisoned. She paced slowly to the bed and laid facing away from the door and sobbed, grabbing the sheets in her fists.

After a long time, enough for the tears to have passed and a slight sleepiness to come creeping to her head, the girl heard two loud bangs on her door that jolted her awake and made her roll out of the bed to the opposite side. She covered her ears and closed her eyes tightly in fear. Now it’s the time. Now it’s over, she thought.

— Dragon girl.

Rhaenys jumped at the sound of a deep voice coming from the door. She looked over from behind the bed and saw the Hound standing in the doorway, staring at her. He had, somehow, broken the door and it was almost falling off the wall. Her eyes widened looking at the door, then at him, and she got up. That was the last person she was expecting to see. His face was covered in blood and sweat, and for a moment Rhaenys wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or frightened. The man stepped into the room and she stood still as a rock.

— I’m leaving this fucking city. I can take you and the Stark girl back to the north. — he growled after a moment of silence that felt much longer than it had actually been.

— Oh gods — she let out a gasp, relief choking her as she realised what he had said. — Thank you sir, of course I will come.

— You wait here. — he turned her back to her — Don’t call me sir.

Rhaenys waited nervously by the bed, her mind racing as she struggled to gather the few belongings she still had. Contrary to the man’s orders, she left the chamber and crept around the nearby rooms and took every small item of value she laid her eyes upon. She was not thrilled to go on another journey without supplies and no money.

After a while the girl heard heavy steps coming in her direction, so she scurried back to her door. She had concocted a small bag with her old clothes and rags in which she placed the valuables, and was holding it in her arms when the Hound appeared before her again.

— Where’s the girl? — she said confused, looking out to see if Sansa was anywhere near.

— She wouldn’t come. Let her. — he said, and started walking away. Rhaenys followed.

At first the girl was doing her best to make as little noise as possible, but soon realised that was not the case for the Hound. He had a wineskin in his hand and walked fast with his usual heavy steps Rhaenys had to almost run to keep up with. They walked a long time through halls she had never seen, but that he knew quite well, up until the stable where horses stood restless and loud. She observed Clegane going up to a huge black horse that she saw him stroke for a second before pulling himself up to the saddle.

— Get up here. — he growled.

— I should get one for my own. — she said without hesitation and looked around to pick one. She didn’t want to ride the same horse as him just in case things got sour in their endeavour.

— Fuck off, girl. These are bloody war horses.

She didn’t answer and simply glared up at him in disapproval.

— Go on then. I won’t fucking wait for ya.

Rhaenys hastily looked around for some horse that wasn’t as overwhelmingly big as most of them. Thankfully, due to the battle they were already saddled, though they were not being used and the stable was empty and silent. She finally picked a shorter one with pretty white pelt, and filled the saddlebag with the valuables she had stolen. She looked to the side to see Sandor riding away already. The girl rolled her eyes and put her horse to motion while still climbing up the stirrup.

— What now? — she put herself next to him.

— Now I’ll get far away from this fucking castle full of cunts.

Rhaenys and the Hound rode north for a good two hours before stopping at a big grassy field with a few sparse trees. Riding a war horse was no joke, and quite difficult to handle, but she tried to seem steady and stayed behind him so he wouldn’t see her struggling. The moon was up high in the sky when the both of them got off their horses. She saw him take his saddlebag and place it on the ground and did the same. The girl sat next to it on the grass, with her chin on her knees.

— So what of the battle? — Rhaenys was interested in why he had fled in the first place and wanted to make a bit of conversation.

— Fuck the battle. — he rasped. But she didn’t want silence, not anymore. She had had enough of it.

— I understand why Stannis Baratheon wants the throne, since he’s the older brother and it seems that Joffrey’s a bastard and all. — she pondered out loud — But they’re all usurpers, be it Baratheon or Lannister, so in the end it doesn’t matter.

— What the fuck do you even know about these people? — Clegane had taken the wineskin again.

— I know who everyone is. I studied the houses before coming down south.

— All clever, aren’t you? Bet ya didn’t fucking know who I was.

— I think father forgot to mention Joffrey's big dog. — she smirked — I do now, though. I asked lord Tyrion about you.

Sandor scoffed.

— And what did the Imp have to say?

— I learned your name. — she said shyly.

None of them talked for a while. Rhaenys played with a strand of hair while he drank from his wineskin. She wanted some, too.

— Is that wine?

— Aye. — he handed it over to her begrudgingly.

— Thank you. — they were facing one another, a few steps apart. She knelt and crawled a bit in his direction to grab it from his hand. — Don’t like it really, but I’m dying for a drink.

— Bet you like some sweet dogpiss like rum — he snarled.

— I don’t. — she gave him a side eye — I like ale best. Sweet drinks taste like vomit.

— That’s a sight to see, a girl like you drinking ale.

— I’m not a highborn, you know. But maybe you’re starting to believe me. Also, I’m 19. Not really a girl anymore. — Rhaenys took a big gulp of wine.

— Not a proper woman either. Old enough to drink properly but not to know yer way around.

— I’ve seen a lot of ugly things. — she said, a little annoyed. — Blood, corpses, disease. I’m not a bloody coward.

— For such a brave woman, ya sure do a lot of fucking crying.

— And even still I always get what I’m after. I can do both just fine. — she took a sip and didn’t say anything else, but also didn’t look away.

The Hound was sitting on a tree root looking at the field around them. He had his armour on from the battle, which made him seem even bigger than he was. His face had smears of blood all over it, and with the haze of the wine getting to her brain, Rhaenys didn’t even try and pretend she wasn’t staring. Her eyes wandered through his broad shoulders, the detail of his armour and his boots, how he seemed almost serene in the moonlight, and she couldn’t help but get a little flustered about the things she began to think next.

Clegane noticed her with the corner of his eye. He was used to being stared at, but even with custom, it still annoyed him. He turned his head to curse at her, but saw the stare was not the kind he had imagined. Rhaenys’ head was tilted slightly to the side, exposing her neck a little, and she was stroking her hair delicately. She had her mouth slightly open, with an expression such as if she was dreaming. Without saying anything, he stared back at her until she finally noticed.

— Here. — she said timidly to break the tension — I saved you the last bit.

The girl got on her hands and knees to give him the wineskin back. She crawled closer, and stopped in between his legs, with her hand next to his foot. She looked up at Sandor, and he was staring right back still. He picked up the wineskin from her hand and drank the rest of it in silence. Rhaenys had sat down again and looked at her legs. They were a little shaky as she felt a pulsing force propelling her and her cheeks flushing from the alcohol and timid excitement. She was sitting on her knees right in front of him, and thought about getting a little closer.. but that thought was suddenly interrupted by Sandor getting up.

— Wineskin’s empty. Go to sleep.

— …right. I’ll go gather some firewood. — the girl got up too, a little disappointed.

—You won’t light no bloody fire. — he rasped sharply.

Rhaenys lifted her head and looked at him with furrowed brows.

— Why?

— I don’t wanna look at any fucking fire right now. — he growled and turned his back to her.

The girl felt a slight annoyance at his behaviour. He had a full armour, but she only had a feeble wool dress on to last the cold night. She opened her mouth to complain, however deep down she thought probably he wasn’t doing that to mean any harm. He must have seen something he didn’t like tonight. He smelled like smoke, anyway. Also, she had another fire going already inside her body, and it was enough to keep herself warm. But still, only herself.

— Won’t you be cold? — she said quietly.

— Shut up, dragon girl. I said no fire.

— No need for fire. — she said, and the Hound heard the light thud of clothes falling behind him.

He was facing back to her, then turned around to see Rhaenys taking off her last piece of clothing, leaving her only in her underdress. She was standing in the cold grass, looking up at him with a straight face and wide eyes. Sandor stared at her, genuinely surprised, and Rhaenys could see that in his face. She had no idea how he would react from that point on, thus hadn’t finished undressing. Neither of them moved a muscle; a long moment passed of dead silence, in which the girl could hear every chirp and buzz in those woods. She wasn’t ashamed, but was struggling to sustain the glare they were sharing.

Suddenly and without a word, the Hound lunged at her, making her squirm just enough for him to notice it and stop. She had shut her eyes and when she opened them, his were just as wide. Rhaenys didn’t mean to frighten him, but he was so hard to read she wasn’t ever sure what his intentions were, and was taken by surprise when he came close. He stood still hesitantly, so she took a step towards him and touched his armoured chest so lightly she could barely feel the cold metal against her fingers.

She could see how wide his nostrils were, how fast he was breathing. She thought maybe he wasn’t sure if he should play along. Had it been long since the Hound had laid with a woman if not a whore? A woman who willingly wanted him? She stroked the studs on his armour and looked up at him with doe eyes. She wanted him, she really did, but if he didn’t respond to that, there was still time to take it all back.

Sandor was also unsure. The look in her eyes was much different from a whore’s who was trying to fuck around for money, a look he knew quite well. Rhaenys’ stare was of an almost innocent lust he had a difficult time not responding to. That girl wasn’t worth anything to him, no ransom money was in sight for this common woman who had nothing but silver hair. It could be a bad idea to fuck her, as there was no telling what she would make of it all after the wine had worn off. But she was making her way into his body just through her big eyes and humble hints of lust, and if his mind could resist, the strain in his breeches was saying otherwise.

In a split second, he grabbed Rhaenys by the scruff of her neck and pushed their faces close together. He looked into her eyes very intently to again make sure that wouldn’t be a mistake, that she wasn’t just doing that to earn his favour. She had the same expression in her watery eyes, an inviting one that was not easy to refuse. Rhaenys looked away from Sandor’s eyes and to his mouth, his beard still wet with wine. Their breaths were a haze of alcohol and the Hound's face smelled of blood and smoke. She didn’t want to wait a second longer, the fire in her hips had grown into wildfire. She grabbed the metal plate on his chest and pulled him to herself in a kiss. It wasn’t a soft one; their lips pressed on one another harshly and she forced her tongue into his mouth, biting his lips. He reciprocated just as roughly, pulling her hair and holding onto it tightly. She held his face in her hands firmly, feeling his scarred leathery skin and pushing him into herself when he tried to pull away. When she had let go slightly from her tight grip, the Hound also let go of her and pushed her to the ground on her back. He knelt before her breathing heavily, grabbed her underdress by the collar and ripped it apart with no effort at all. Now the girl laid bare on the ground, her silver hair all over the grass and her face.

The Hound stared at her for a long time, Rhaenys staring back at him and seeing his eyes go through all the parts of her body. She didn’t have the body of a lady, and neither that of a whore, just ghostly white skin burned and scarred flushing with excitement. Her legs were trembling, so she was holding them together, but he grabbed her knees and spread them widely. Rhaenys whined and the man contained a smirk of satisfaction. She thought she had been winning that game, but it was much on the contrary. She had gotten what she wanted, but they were going to play by his rules. She watched as Clegane put his hands on her thighs and made his way from her hips to her chest. He grabbed her breasts and pulled her nipples hard, sucking and biting them, making her let out loud gasps. He paid no mind as to what could hurt her. The Hound then pushed her further back and grabbed her legs, so hard the skin turned red. He lowered his head in between her thighs and touched his lips on hers. The girl was not expecting that and covered her eyes for a moment from coyness. Her legs shivered when he started properly sliding his tongue all over her, and she felt she couldn’t do anything about it other than cover her mouth while she whimpered. She started breathing faster and making high pitched sounds she couldn’t control, until she let out a big gasp and her legs began to shake. The girl contorted into herself and opened her eyes to see Clegane lifting his head and standing on his knees. Without saying a word, he undid his belt and slid himself into her slowly all the way through.

The Hound grabbed her hips and pulled them up to his, and she squirmed when he started moving, his hands pressing on her skin tightly, even pressing down on one of the burn wounds in her arm. She squealed in pain and her eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t let go right away, and rather pressed tighter for a second before letting go. He lowered his head into her and bit the skin above her breast hard, making Rhaenys scream. She gave him an angry stare, but didn’t back down and rather forced her hips against his more at each stroke. He grabbed one of the girl’s legs and lifted it from under her knee, bit her again, at her inner thigh, and started to thrust harder into her. Rhaenys whined and twisted from the pain and pleasure from her insides that were still tight and sensitive. Sandor hadn’t taken any clothes or garments off, so his huge armour was clanging with each movement, dripping blood on the girl’s white skin. She looked at the red drops and then at him. She noticed his eyes wandering through the droplets and slowly reached her belly with one of her arms to smear them all over her body, mixing enemy’s blood with her sweat. The Hound saw that and this time couldn’t conceal his reaction. He grunted and grabbed her face by the cheeks with one of his hands, annoyed at how she could have pulled such a lustful move that could get to his core like that. He felt like a mad dog. He pulled himself from her and flipped her to her back, holding her still in all fours.

Clegane grabbed the girl’s silver hair and pulled it tightly, making her arch her neck. He spread the lips on her parts aside and went inside her once more. This time his thrusts were even harder and reaching deeper, which made Rhaenys whimper and gasp at every movement. The girl took one look behind at him, and was surprised to see how vicious his expression was, with bloody sweat dripping down his forehead. He now looked as if he was in a fight and was so enticed by it he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. That was how he felt, too. Soldiers tend to agree that a good fight asks for a good fuck, so maybe the two things aren’t all that different. He grabbed her hips and dug his fingers into her skin, leaving marks that would soon turn into bruises. His movements started getting more erratic and Rhaenys felt him lowering his body towards her, until his cheek was touching her head and his mouth was right above her ear. She heard his breath getting faster and he grabbed her shoulder with one of his hands, biting down on it harder than he had before, while he pushed himself deep into her for a few final times. Rhaenys leaned her head into his face and heard a deep growl from him when he eventually stopped moving. The Hound let go of the tight grip on her shoulder, slowly pulled himself from her and then buckled his belt in silence. The girl laid on her side on the underdress below her with a deep sigh of exhaustion. Sandor looked at her for just a moment before standing up; she was panting and flushed, with blood and fluids and his bite marks all over herself. Seeing the dragon silver haired girl lying there after having his way with her like that made him feel slightly that she had been more worth rescuing then he had thought at first. He stood up at last, and Rhaenys watched as he got up and fetched her clothes.

The girl picked them up from his hand and saw him go over to his saddlebag and lay his head on it on the ground. He clutched his hands together in his belly and closed his eyes without another word. Rhaenys got up and put on her clothes, then crawled to her own bag, a safe distance apart from where he was sleeping. She bundled her torn underdress and held it in her arms for comfort on the cold ground. She could feel the soreness from her legs, the wet and sticky feeling of her thighs rubbing together and the lingering feeling of where he had touched her. She thought she was having her way with him, but the opposite seemed to also be true. She stared at him sleeping, at his scarred face, only closing her eyes once she couldn’t keep them open anymore.

[knight-of-flowerss]

game of thrones

navigation | requests open!

🦁 fluff | 🍂smut | ☄️angst | 🍊suggestive | 🏵️platonic

tags - @thethreeeyed-raven , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

women

sansa stark

nothing yet

arya stark

nothing yet

daenerys targaryen

nothing yet

brienne of tarth

nothing yet

margaery tyrell

nothing yet

cersei lannister

🍂 little one // fem!reader

ygritte

nothing yet

men

bran stark

🦁 - ☄️ jealousy // fem!reader

🦁 - 🍂 headcanons

🍂 - 🦁 good boy // fem!reader

robb stark

nothing yet

jon snow

nothing yet

sandor clegane

nothing yet

oberyn martell

nothing yet

jaime lannister

nothing yet

tyrion lannister

nothing yet

khal drogo

nothing yet

joffrey baratheon

nothing yet

ned stark

nothing yet

viserys targaryen

nothing yet

theon greyjoy

nothing yet