#sandor clegane imagine

[plus-size-reader]

Gentle

Sandor Clegane x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2737 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Ned Stark’s eldest daughter finding herself interested by the King’s loyal protector, and even more disenchanted by how he’s treated

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The King’s arrival in Winterfell wasn’t of much interest to you, if you were being honest.

Of course you understood that it was a great honor and that his Grace was very important to your father, but outside of that, you had no real reason to pay the caravan much mind as it moved through the streets of Winterfell.

Had it not been for the pretense of duty and honor, and more severely, the pressure of your mother’s wrath, you truly believed you would have skipped the entire affair.

You weren’t the object of their visit, after all.

As the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you were much too old to be of much interest to the young Prince compared to your sisters, and the King only came to Winterfell with your Aunt Lyanna on the mind.

Really, you weren’t sure why you needed to attend.

Until, you found yourself staring down the traveling party of the King’s guard, and the striking presence of the man they called “the Hound”

You had heard stories of the man over the years, and you knew where the title had come from, but never could you have imagined the man before you now and that man were one in the same. He hardly struck you as some ravenous monster, even then.

…and as the days went by, you found your opinion unchanged.

You existed in Winterfell simply, a privilege afforded you by your father’s title and the love the families of the North had for the Starks.

For the most part, you did what you wanted and didn’t call too much attention to yourself, content to read on the sidelines and follow after your siblings as they grew into their own. That meant that you escaped a lot of the formalities of nobility, as no one really needed too much of your attention.

If they were looking for a Stark to talk to, you were always fairly low on the list and you liked it that way, especially given all the excitement in Winterfall over the past few days.

With Sansa entertaining the Prince, your father entertaining the King and Queen, and the charms of the North keeping the guard away, you finally had a moment to yourself which only meant one thing. You could finally finish your book.

It was all set, just as you wanted it.

The weather had yet to get so bitter cold that you couldn’t stand to be out, so you grabbed a blanket and set it in the clearing near the market, under a big tree. The septa’s rarely bothered you these days, so you should be able to get some peace and quiet.

Not that you got too far before something else caught your eye.

You had only been reading your book for a short time when you heard the familiar sing-songy tone of your sister’s voice, followed unsurprisingly by the nasally pitch of Prince Joffrey.

They were to be married following this trip, and you knew she was excited. You could tell by the way she skipped lightly as she walked, and how she hung on his every word.

You had never been in love yourself, but you had to imagine that was what it looked like. Perhaps that was why you found yourself watching them as they walked, or maybe it had more to do with the Hound, loyal as always, who was trailing behind them steadily.

He was an interesting man, you’d decided.

Even as he walked, he studied the world around him as if he wasn’t a part of it, rather that he was peering in at it from the outside. You felt that you could relate, in some way, as you had always been that way.

They’d chastised you for being a dreamer as a girl. The Septa would take your books and keep them from you, your mother would beg you to engage in your duties as a lady and even Robb and Theon teased you.

Your head was always far away and even now, you had managed to keep it that way. While other women your age married and had heirs for unimpressive Lords, you remained in your father’s homeland.

A place where you could keep your books and your dreams, without having to endure the ugliness.

Not that ugliness was really the problem in the first place.

You were certain that some found the Hound ugly in all his violence and impropriety, but you couldn’t dare count yourself among them. Even now, as you stared at him over your bound paper novel, you saw nothing short of a dream like all the others.

It wasn’t even something you could truly understand, if you had any desire to try. There was just a softness to him, a quiet contemplation that made you feel as if no harm would ever come to you.

That wasn’t a feeling you’d known before now, as that was one of the things the North had never really had. Your father and brothers would rather die than let something or someone hurt you, you knew that, but it wasn’t so simple.

The comfort his presence held went beyond any physical threat or danger, it was almost warm.

Not that you would have ever ventured to admit it.

After all, you had never even spoken to the man and if you tried to explain the way you were feeling to anyone, they would surely have you committed. The hound was a lot of things, but none would have called him warm.

None outside of you that was.

You continued your staring for quite some time, only occasionally looking away from the sight before you to mindlessly turn the page in your book. You imagined you may have sat there all evening if you remained uninterrupted.

However, when your attention returned to the imposing form of the King’s dog across the way to find him already looking at you, the illusion fell away entirely.

Surely he thought you were demented.

In the entire time he and the King’s guard had been in Winterfell, you had yet to speak a word to a one of them but that didn’t mean he was unfamiliar with you. Every time he turned around, he found you sitting somewhere over his shoulder, that same book perched in your lap.

Anyone else may have just brushed you off, assuming you were a bit out there as your family always had, but Sandor couldn’t quite do that.

After all, he had grown used to the weary glances and fearful whispers between people as he passed, but no one had ever paid him so much mind as you seemed to be.

Naturally he was curious.

No one had voluntarily spent that much time looking at him in all his life, and he needed to know what it was about you that was different.

You tensed the moment you noticed his attention, not daring to look away from the weathered pages beneath your fingers, not when you heard him nearing where you sat and certainly not when he stopped at your side.

Neither of you spoke, and you weren’t even sure if you drew a single breath, but he certainly did as he waited. Waited for what he wasn’t sure, but it just seemed to be the thing to do.

As if you would somehow explain yourself if he stood in your presence long enough.

Though, after a long moment passed between you without so much as a glance from you, he decided to just end the torment for you both.

There would be no sense in just standing here all evening.

“Why do you stare so much?” he wondered aloud, his voice just as gruff as it always was, though you caught something else hidden there too. Just beneath the surface, hiding beneath the walls he’d built hugh within himself.

It almost sounded like a sort of nervousness, though you would have imagined him incapable of something so common.

You didn’t answer at first.

Whether it was due to the humiliation of being caught that held your tongue or the nerves of facing down such an imposing man on your own, he wasn’t sure. All Sandor knew for sure was that this was one of the strangest interactions he’d ever had.

If only he knew.

The real reason for your silence wasn’t some twisted interest or shame but because there was no real answer at all. At least not one you’d confidently admit while those brown eyes had you locked in a stare.

You hadn’t meant it to be disrespectful, of course, because the nature of your admiration couldn’t be farther from distaste. However, to a man like Sandor, that was exactly what it looked like.

…What it felt like.

Naturally, after a life of rejection, Sandor assumed that your staring was like that of every else when they looked at him. He assumed you were disgusted by him, and his grotesque face, or perhaps that you were afraid.

He hoped you weren’t afraid.

In any case, he never could have imagined that you would answer him in the way you did, even if it took you a moment to summon the courage to string any words together at all.

“I suppose I’m interested in you” you decided finally, twisting your face up slightly at the way that must have sounded.

It wasn’t quite right, of course, though it wasn’t entirely wrong either.

You were interested in him, but that seemed too simply a phrasing, like all the gravity and sentiment was missing even still.

Sandor only grunted in reply after a brief pause, his gaze drifting across the market, watching as the surrounding northerners studied your interaction, only to drop their eyes when they met his.

They all feared him, and they were right too, because they understood what he was and what he was capable of. Though, maybe that was another thing that you had done since he arrived that was unique to you.

Never once had you looked away from him.

You had never shrunk away or grimaced as they did, even at a time like this when anyone else would have run for the hills. It was certainly new, even he couldn’t be so stubborn as to ignore that.

“What’s so interesting about me?” he wondered, not daring to move closer or join you as you sat, but not moving further away either. Even though it felt wrong to speak freely with an unmarried noble woman like you, it really wasn’t.

You certainly didn’t think so, and you believed that anyone else would agree.

If anything, you were simply making conversation while he did his duty, watching over the Prince and his future bride.

Now, it was your turn to pause, regarding the words on the page only a moment more before you closed it, and discarded it in the snowy grass.

“We don’t have men like you here,” you allowed, considering his imposing frame as he stood above you.

Though you had only seen him from afar until now, at his impressive height and with your current low position, Sandor seemed even larger than he had before. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be frightened by him, which had to have been because he wasn’t frightening in the first place.

The rest of the realm may have treated him like a monster but you hardly believed that made him one.

You could tell in the way he glanced down at you, surprise painting his features, that he wanted to argue with you but he faltered, because he didn’t understand. He wanted to tell you that there were violent men everywhere, and that most were just better at hiding it, but somehow, he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

No matter how diluted that may have made you seem in the moment.

“Gentle,” you clarified, watching as his mind tried to pin down exactly what you were trying to say, because the most obvious answer just wasn’t possible. “Men here are all the same. They’re either ruthless fighters or cowards and fools. On rare occasions, they may be both but neither are gentle as you are”

That was it.

There were the words you had been trying to find before, but it still didn’t feel as if he understood, or perhaps he just didn’t feel as if you had any right to be the one saying them.

After all, you had only ever been in the North and you hardly knew anything about him, or many other men for that matter. What real ground did you have to stand on when it came to this?

“Trust me little girl, there’s nothing gentle about a man like me” he scoffed, washing away any tenderness you’d been feeling in a moment.

Perhaps he was right, but you didn’t think so.

While it was true that there were no other men like him in the North, you had seen your fair share of guarded men hiding from the truth about themselves. Normally they were trying to convince themself that they were braver than they were, or stronger, but it looked the same.

It made them look small.

“It’s in your eyes. You think I can’t see it because you don’t, but it’s there. It’s the same reason you’re still having this conversation with me, even though the Prince snuck off with Sansa” you countered, gesturing to the missing space they’d previously occupied through the pass.

If he’d truly been keeping an eye on them, and nothing more, he wouldn’t have let them out of his sight.

“Maybe I just want to know what’s wrong with you? After all, I thought the future Lady of Winterfell would be a bit more sociable” he argued, almost poking fun at you in a way you hadn’t seen coming.

Which was a welcome break in that untouchable armor of his.

“I am hardly the future Lady of Winterfell. That title will belong to the wife of my brother Robb,” you informed, gathering your skirts to rise to your feet, only to find his hand outstretched to you, a further invitation behind the curtain.

You took it as gracefully as you could and rose to your full height, though you remained entirely dwarfed by the large man at your side.

“And I have never really taken to being sociable, that’s true. It’s my mother’s greatest upset” you teased, straightening out your gown and taking in the full sight of the Hound in all his glory.

He looked small, if that was even physically possible, as you admired him with those eyes of yours. If you thought his gaze was pointed, you had no idea how he felt beneath the heavy weight of your own.

“You’re a strange little thing, aren’t you?” he grumbled, his question hanging in the air untouched for a moment as you studied him, no longer caring how strange it may have looked to anyone else.

You had been right.

He was anything but ugly up close, and it was a tragedy that so few got to gaze upon him in this manner.

“I suppose. Perhaps that’s why I remain unmarried” you suggested, subconsciously hinting at what you knew to be your own greatest flaw, at least in the eyes of your people and your house.

At the very least, the Hound had been able to make something of himself outside of being a husband or son. He could be a warrior, and he was, one of the most fearsome warriors you’d ever seen.

As a woman, you had never been afforded that kind of privilege and you never would. As far as your mother was concerned, you would live and die a spinster, and there was little you could do to change that.

“Perhaps. Or maybe this place really is full of cowards and fools, as you said” he muttered, sparing you one more heady glance before turning his back to you, his attention fully on the clearing ahead.

That was it.

In all the days you’d been admiring him and making a desperate attempt to understand exactly what lay beneath that shell of his, that was all he had for you.

…and you couldn’t have been happier, because for the first time in a long time, you found yourself looking forward to what the days ahead would hold.

[axelsagewrites]

Sandor Clegane*Brat

Pairing: sandor x f!princess!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-three: brat taming with Sandor Clegane – after growing sick of a princess’s bratty attitude Sandor decides to teach her how to behave

Word count: 2147

Warnings: brat taming, secret relationship, teasing, reader being a brat, jamie slut shaming, fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, spanking, degrading, swearing, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Your footsteps were somehow both silent and quicker than his horses, something Sandor loathed as he chased about after you. being your personal guard was apparently an honour however the past two years of this honour made him consider if locking princesses in a tower was still socially acceptable.

While sure you had your moments of being tolerable, sometimes even pleasant, to the giant they called your guard dog, right now was not one of them. Usually, he appreciated your sarcastic remarks to your younger brother Joffrey, agreeing with most of your snippy quips, however today it had led to a fight between you both.

This then led to you storming around the castle, with Sandor falling behind, then to a fight with your mother which Sandor had to listen to through a door despite being absolutely starving, then when he could finally go and eat you decided to go on a walk through the forest unannounced and he had to track you down and bring you back.

“Try not to get lost again princess,” Sandor said through gritted teeth, trying not to let his stomach grumble.

You rolled your eyes as you sat on your love seat in front of the fire. “I was never lost. You just couldn’t find me,”

Sandor rolled his eyes as he went to leave however Jamie fucking Lannister decided to stop him. “The queens requested for you to stay in this room and guard the princess,”

“What about my fucking break?” Sandor spat back, not having the same gentle voice as your uncle.

“Well, it will have to wait. There are Dornish ambassadors riding into court and we cannot risk her getting…lost again,” Jamie said, and you couldn’t help stifling a laugh making Sandor want to fling you out of a window. Jamie leaned in closer, whispering to Sandor and getting his slimy breath all over him, “Prince Oberyn is coming, and we cannot risk her sullying her reputation,” he said however only Sandor was able to hear him.

“But me staying in her room all night is fine?”

Jamie looked the hound up and down before putting on his most cunty smile, “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone will question your activities. Goodnight Clegane, best behaviour princess,” Jamie called to you before leaving, the door slamming behind him.

Sandor Groaned as he began to strip off his cloak. Like fuck was he gonna be kitted up all night in this. “What did he whisper?” you asked, reaching over to grab a grape. Sandor couldn’t tell if the way you popped it in his mouth made him more hungry, horny, or fucking angry.

“Prince Oberyn is coming to court,” Sandor said as he tossed his cloak on a chair, “So I’ve to guard you all night so you don’t go falling in his bed,”

Most women would gasp or swoon or deny the accusation, but you just barked out a laugh. It was another one of your few redeeming qualities in Sandors eyes. “How much of a whore does he think I am?” you joked, picking up your wine.  Sandor stomped over to the table, snatching the wine from your grip before plopping down in a chair. “Hey!”

“Hay is for horses,” he grumbled, gulping down the wine, “You’ve been a fucking brat all day, the least you owe me is a drink,”

“My, my, swearing in front of a lady, a princess no less,” you tsked at him as Sandor began to unbuckle his armour, “Not very honourable of you ser,”

“I’m no ser,” he said, discarding the battered metal as he reached for the next piece, “And besides I’ve done far less honourable things to you than curse in front of you,” this was of course his favourite quality in his princess. Even when you annoyed him to his core you were still the best fuck he’s ever had. “Fuck you’ve said worse things than I have,”

“Like what?”

“You know what,” he chuckled, beginning to undo his breast plate which would leave him in just a shirt and trousers. “You and that dirty mouth of yours,” he said, thinking back to all the thoughts and whimpers you’d moaned in his ear.

He did his best not to meet your eyes as they travelled down his frame, “Watcha gonna do about it?” however sent a spark down his spine. Prince Oberyn was not the one they should be worried about sullying your reputation.

Sandor dropped the metal breast plate, ignoring the clatter in made as it hit the floor as he moved to stand in front of you. his hand gripped your jaw, easily holding your whole face as he made you look him in the eye, “Don’t test me princess. You’re already on thin fucking ice,”

“Why would I want to be on ice when I could be on your…” you said, eyes trailing down his frame with a fiery spark.

He growled as his lips smashed into yours for a brief kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. He broke the kiss, pushing your frame back into the love seat making you gasp. Within seconds his boots were off, and his arm was around your waist, hosting you over his shoulder making you squeal. Your back hit the soft bed as you desperately tried to sit up, but he was already on top of you.

“How expensive is this dress?” he asked, his fingers trailing the neckline.

“Your annual salary,” you replied and gasped when a tear ripped through the air, “Sandor!” you gasped as the cold air washed over your bare chest, your nipples perking at the feeling.

He’d ripped it just enough to be able to pull it off your body without having to hassle with any ties or laces, “Please as if you wont just pout and get a new one,” he scoffed.

“I don’t pout!” you objected, now feeling more exposed under his hungry eyes.

Sandor laughed, his eyes moving from your tits back to your face, “All you do is pout princess. All fucking day,” he said, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb tracked over your pouted lip, “And all day I’ve been having to look at these fucking lips,” he said, his thumb prying open your mouth so he could stick his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue, “and think about how much better they’d look around my cock,”

His words sent a shiver down your spine that didn’t go unnoticed by Sandor. “Is someone excited?” he asked, his hand gripping your thigh before slipping between them. His fingers trailed up your slit and you felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “So wet for me already,” he said, his smile dropping for a moment, “Suck,” he commanded.

Instantly you complied, sucking on his thumb and trying not to whine as he rubbed slow circles on your clit, “Good girl,” his head dipped, moving to kiss along your collar bones as his thumb slipped from your mouth. He rubbed the spit over your bottom lip before his hand moved to tilt your jaw up, giving him space to kiss softly up your neck.

You bit your lip, slight whimper escaping as he worked on your bundle of nerves. When his fingers slipped away you whined but gasped when you felt him push two in, “Cmon don’t act like you cant take it,” he chastised, nipping at your skin enough to make you gasp but never to leave a mark, “I’ve seen you take far bigger,” he said, grinding his bulge against your leg to emphasis what was to come.

His fingers began to curl slowly inside as his thumb rested over your clit. When you whined again, this time louder and enough to make his cock twitch in his trousers, he moved his other mouth to clamp over your mouth, “Quiet,” he grumbled, curling his fingers deeper making you moan against his hand, “You know the rules princess,”

You nodded, meeting his eyes for a moment before they shut as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot. You could feel your peak soon arriving but when you felt him pull his fingers out not even his hand could fully cover the loud whine you made. “Gods you really are a desperate thing,” he chastised, his hands moving to squeeze your hips tightly.

Before you could protest, he’d flipped you on your stomach, hand coming down on your ass leaving a stinging slap. “Hey!” you whined only to be met with another slap.

“Behave,” he chastised, keeping one hand on your ass, fondling it as the other moved to push down his breeches, “Maybe if you behave I’ll let you finish around my cock,” he said, gripping it with one hand and with the other forcing you onto your knees, ass presented perfectly for him, “Bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? me fucking you silly like some whore,” he said, running his tip up and down your wet cunt making you whine.

Instead of responding you grabbed a pillow, moving to lay your face in it when Sandor suddenly grabbed your hair, “I asked you a fucking question,” he growled, his tip pushing in slightly as your back arched.

“Yes,” you stuttered out.

“Yes what?” he asked, pulling your hair tighter, pushing slightly further in.

“Yes, I want your cock please I need it,” you whined, your hips trying to move further back onto to be stopped by Sandor, “Please I’ll be good,”

Sandor let go of your hair, your body lurching forward as you fell back into the pillow, “Wonder when I’ve heard that before,” he grunted, his hands moving to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass refusing to push his tip any further in.

“I promise,” you whined, gripping at the pillow, “I’ll behave I promise I-fuck,” you whined as you felt his cock sink further in.

Sandor hissed as he felt your cunt squeeze around him as he pushed his way in till he felt himself fully inside. He left one more slap to your ass, smirking at the way you bit the pillow instead of protesting at the stinging slap, before he started to set a steady pace.

His thrusts were slow and precise at first, making your whole-body lurch forward as he fucked you and your fingers tightened in the sheets. He could hear the stifled whines you let out and reached forward to grab your hair once more, this time gentler as he turned your head till the pillow muffled your mouth. Before you could question him, you moaned into the fabric as his pace began to quicken.

His slow thrusts had turned into heavy pounds that shook your body and made a knot grow in your stomach. His spare hand moved to squeeze your hip one more time before slipping forward to rub fast circles onto your clit. His grunts and groans were like music to your ears as your legs began to quake but falling was not an option.

Sandor cursed at the way your cunt squeezed around his cock, sucking in breath as he screwed his eyes shut. Despite how hard it was for him not to finish right there he had a job to do. He bit his lip, opening his eyes to appreciate the sight beneath him.

He could hear your muffled moans through the pillow and felt the way your body jerked and squeezed around him. “Aw is my little princess gonna cum?” he teased, his thrusts growing harder, “does she deserve to cum around my cock?” he asked but your response was muffled. Sandor pulled your hair, lifting your mouth up from the pillow, “I asked you a question,”

“Please sir,” you moaned like music to his ears, “Fuck please let me please,” you begged.

“Do it then,” he grunted, shoving your face back into the pillow, “Cum around my cock like a good whore,” his words were all it took to push you over the edge as your peak crashed around you.

However, this was not going to make him stop. Instead, his thrusts became harder and less precise as he fucked you mercilessly chasing his high while you rode yours out with eyes rolled back into your skull. It didn’t take long for him to feel the familiar twitch and suddenly pull out. With only two more jerks his seed spilled across your ass as his eyes screwed shut. “Fuck,” he gasped once he felt he could breathe again. Gently he moved his arms to lay you down on the bed.

You were too busy catching your breath to notice him searching for something till you felt him running a damp cloth over your ass to clean you up. “Still think I’m a brat?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck yes. But you’re my brat,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics

[pinkykats-place]

Sandor Clegane x Reader Insert Fics

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

Stories and Gif are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Readers are mostly female.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

In the North

Summary: they had a relationship before they had to part ways and so they get reunited when reader is sent with Jorah by Daenarys to get a white walker, Beric and Thoros is in disbelief that Sandor can be able of loving someone

Love?

Sandor Clegane x Stark!Reader

Opposites Attract

Sandor Clegane x fem!reader

The Kennel Master’s Daughter

Sandor x female!Reader

Sandor Clegane x fem!nurse!reader

Warnings: none it's fluffy

Summary: Back at the time when Joffrey was king, the king's guard got into a fight with the people of flea bottom ending up with many of them injured including Sandor Clegane himself. What will happen when out of all the nurses only Y/N is brave enough to help him?

A Hound Will Die For You But Never Lie To You 

Trigger warnings: NSFW, swearing, all the usual Game Of Thrones warnings.

Rating: M (It jumps right in there so if that’s triggering for you I’d suggest skipping it)

Summary: Imagine being the one to gentle the rage inside Sandor Clegane.

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Reader (gender neutral).

Everything

Summary: A little drabble about Sandor’s feelings for the reader.

Scarred

Summary: Request from anon: I have a request! Sandor/Reader where the reader is being really lovey with Sandor and kissing him everywhere and she kisses his scarred side and he pushes her away but eventually gives in because she’s persistent that she will kiss him there and that he doesn’t have to worry because she loves his face.

An unexpected scene

NSFW Fic

Angered Beasts

Request: Hi can I request a drabble where the reader is one of joffreys playthings, like sansa is, and she runs into the hound after a beating? Something a little fluffy, please x

Warning: Mentions of violence and slight blood, female reader

Bathing in a tub with Sandor - drabble

Last Night

Fem!Stark!Reader

Request: Are requests still open? If so, please could I request a Hound x Stark reader where they confess their feelings for each other before they fight the Night King?

Good Dog

Warnings: Spoiler!,Fluff, swearing

Summary: Reader is found in the snow 

Hounds and Gingers

Summary: a short, fluffy imagine

An Urgent Confession

(female reader)

Summary: A little story about the reader reminiscing of a moment between her and Sandor 

A Hound’s Jealousy

Just a short little jealous!Hound request

Warnings: jealous Sandor, handsy guy

A Good Punishment

Summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

Another Drink

Summary: rough smut with Sandor after he’s sees you with Bronn

Meeting at Winterfell

Summary: Imagine being a Stark and meeting Sandor Clegane at Winterfell

Imagine Sandor realizing that Tormund has a crush on you

Jealous Sandor…

Sharing a Bed with the Hound

Awkward Fluff!

To Break the Spell

Summary: Beauty & the Beast au

Imagine it’s you who Sandor takes away from Kings Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay

Series: More Than Our Servitude

Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader

Summary: You lived your life as one of the washerwomen of the Red Keep, only seeing the Hound in passing. Still, when the madness of the Battle of Blackwater erupted, he came for you. The Hound is weary from battle, but you try and soothe what little you can.

Our Family

Sandor x wife!Reader

Summary: Sandor enjoys spending the day with his wife and son

His Queen

Sandor x female Reader

Sandor is soft with joffery’s wife

Sandor’s Secret

Sandor x fem!Reader

Summary: Sandor has a secret hidden away from everyone.

Series: Fox and the Hound

Sandor x Reader

Summary: 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. 

Secret Wife (female reader)

Based on this request:  Can you do something with Sandor secretly having a wife. Maybe they met when he was serving king Robert and they met when she was hunting and eloped after a few years. She left before the battle of Blackwater because Sandor didn’t want her getting wrapped up in that so They meet again in Winterfell and no one can actually believe it.  

WITH THIS ADDED: Sandor and reader in a somewhat secret relationship. Tormund keeps hitting on reader in front of Sandor and finally his jealousy gets the better of him and he makes a loud declaration of their love. 

[author-morgan]

Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders and high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory. 

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there. 

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg. 

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling. 

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown. 

You swallow the knot in her throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl. 

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.  

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches. 

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.  

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg. 

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft. 

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead. 

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps. 

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose. 

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it. 

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival. 

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all. 

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found. 

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood. 

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would. 

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog. 

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked. 

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.  

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?” 

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you. 

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason. 

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A MONTH PASSES and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight. 

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company. 

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe. 

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him—the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full. 

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

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[rax-writes]

↬ in the middle of the night

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Warnings: None

Something awoke you from a deep slumber. Perhaps it was the Mother herself, you thought, because when you opened your eyes, they slowly focused on your husband, who was standing in the middle of the room, his silhouette illuminated by a couple of candles and the sliver of morning sunlight peeking over the horizon.

Sandor’s back was to you as he stared at the cradle at the foot of your shared bed, fully clothed in his leathers and his sword strapped to his waist. When he heard you stir, he spoke, but did not turn to face you.

“I should go with them. Go kill my brother,” he said with a humorless laugh. “Gods know I’m the only one who could end that evil bastard.”

You said nothing, so after a few moments, he continued – and you could swear you heard him sniffle faintly before speaking.

“But I just keep staring at this little fucker here, and… I can’t. I can’t bring myself to walk out that door – knowing I’d never see him, or you, again. Knowing I’d be condemning him to grow up without a father. Knowing that me walking out on him makes me no better than my father – who abandoned me to protect Gregor.”

A little noise from the dark-haired babe in the cradle prompted another, louder sniffle from Sandor this time. There was another pause, followed by an agitated, “Damn it all.”

The Hound then began hurriedly prying off his sword, outerwear, and boots, letting it all fall carelessly to the floor before climbing into bed with you. When he rested his head on your chest and wrapped his big arms around your torso, you noticed his face was wet, and he sniffled quietly a few more times. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, the feeling of the scarred flesh so familiar to you now.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” Sandor grumbled.

“For staying with us.”

He let out a heavy sigh, and although he did not respond, he gave you a squeeze in response. Sandor’s breathing slowed as you gently scratched your nails up and down his back, and when you heard a snore, you knew he was asleep. Soon after one last kiss to his forehead, you joined him in sleep.

[poisonsage808]

♡ Goodmorning ♡

Sandor Clegane

• Habit has him out of bed before you. He prefers it this way though. Waking up, reminding himself where he is and that he’s not in danger, seeing you, pressing a kiss to your crown before getting up

• You getting out of bed first can spiral mornings off to a very rough start. It’s not your fault, nor his. That sliver of time between numbing sleep and reality, those first blinks before his eyes adjust. He can forget the wars, the violence, his days of running… his days as The Hound are over

• He has nightmares about it all still. The only good fucking thing about waking in the dead of night is you. Wine couldn’t come close to taking his pain away now that he has you. Sandor can wrap his arms around you, draw you in closer, breath you in and feel safe

• He’s no liar, it’s not logical. Not a bit. He’s still the biggest fucker alive, he’s still got his sword (propped against the door— in case some sorry cunt wanted to try and put down the tired dog) and no matter how many years go by, he remembers how to use it. Yet, despite it all, Sandor feels safer when you’re the first thing he sees

• If he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he’ll stare at you for a good while and enjoy the peace

• You helped him be better at that. Enjoying those stupid, little moments of nothingness. You told him they’re not nothing, especially not if they make him happy. So the days where he wakes up and watches your chest rise and fall, he checks if you’re snoring or not. He notices the way your hair rests or how damningly angelic you look as you sleep. He commits your face to memory like he did the night before and almost, almost thanks the gods for those not-nothing moments

• Sometimes you catch him staring. You’ve gotten quite good at knowing when he’s looking. Even with your eyes closed, you start smiling.

“Goodmorning, Sandor.”

• He used to call you a witch, he used to grunt in reply, he used to find a detail to complain about because how could it possibly be a good morning?

He’s since stopped hesitating and stalling, replying with a gentle, “Goodmorning, love.”

[justagirlwholikesadam]

S & K : The Queen's Guards

Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader x Kylo Ren

Summary: After being named heir to the throne, your father brings you two men to be your guards.

Warning: NSFW, cursing, kissing, we are fucking them ladies, throuple because why not!

A/N: TBH this fanfic was never going to see the light of day because i was so nervous how people would react but I haven't seen a Sandor x Kylo fanfic so fuck it. Here ya'll go, enjoy! -L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Word Count: 9.9K

You were grateful that you have been bestowed with two guards to protect you. They were given the order to follow your every move and stay by your side since your father named you heir to the throne. Most were happy that you were heir while others condemned it to be the most horrific thing known. A woman sitting on the throne was a joke for them.

Blessed to have a father like yours, he quieted the people that had doubts and reminded them that his word is law.

At first you dreaded the idea of two unknown men in your company but your father insisted since they were the best. While being introduced to them you will never forget how they stared down at you with their dark eyes. You couldn't help but blush under their gaze. You learned that they were both second born sons and that they didn't have much but they were highly skilled. They were new to the kingdom and looking to offer their service. They had gotten through your father’s difficult test and proven their loyalty to him. They were both granted to protect and serve you.

The first guard was named Sandor Clegane. He was the tallest and the oldest. Your father had mentioned to you about his appearance before arriving. Sandor's right side of his face was burned. You were a bit relieved when you saw him for yourself because your father made it seem like Sandor was a grotesque monster but he wasn't. The unburnt side of Sandor’s face was handsome. He had a thick brow and brown eyes. His hair was long down to his neck, he had parted his hair to the side to mask the burn side of his face. He had facial hair, his beard and mustache were thick and dark.

The second guard was named Kylo Ren. Kylo was tall but fell a few feet shorter than Sandor. Kylo gave you a smile when he first saw you. His plushy lips twisted upward at you. He had long dark locks that went down to his shoulders. His beard and mustache was neatly trimmed then Sandor’s. Beauty marks were splattered on his face and he was leaner than the older guard.

Small talks between your father and you occur as they continue to stare at you.

“I do this for your safety, my dear. One day all of this will be yours and there are people out there that will try to take it away from you.” Your father walked in front of you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I accept them.” You told him.

Your father stood behind you as Sandor and Kylo kneel in front of you and swore their allegiance, their protection to the heir to the throne. Something melted in your chest at the sight of these men kneeling in front of you. Many had knelt in front of you but these two had sparked something in you.

The first week was the hardest, since they were going to follow you everywhere to get to know your routines. You decided to get to know them more. You found out Kylo was more social than Sandor.

Sandor kept to himself, mostly drinking a cup of wine while Kylo talked about himself. You found out Kylo had a twin brother named Ben. Kylo was the second twin born. You gave your condolences to Kylo when he mentioned that Ben died at war.

Kylo was flirtatious with everyone and he was charming when he wanted. You noticed wandering eyes from the servants looking up and down at him while serving the meals and drinks. Some servants who weren’t afraid of Sandor tried to talk to him but he ignored them or just told them to ‘fuck off.’

It was a month later when you found out more about Sandor's life. Kylo had left to do a task for your father so it was just both of you. You were sitting down on the loveseat in the library while Sandor stood by the entrance. After a few minutes of begging the tall man to sit down with you, he obeyed. Finally able to wear out his cold exterior, Sandor told you about his life and how he got hurt. His older brother had pushed his face against the burning coal of the fire when he was a child. His older brother was still alive and causing havoc far away from here.

Sandor had come to this place for a fresh start in life. Sandor’s body tensed when he felt you grab his hand. He wanted to curse at you for touching him but he couldn't, not when you were looking up at him like that. You looked at him like he was a normal man, you looked at him as you looked at Kylo.

“Thank you for telling me.” You told him as you pulled his hand on to your lap. His breathing came to a halt when you began to play with his fingers. Your thumb glides across his hard knuckles. You couldn’t help but smile when you compare your hands along with his. They were huge, they completely covered yours.

“My father said a good man should have rough hands. It means he’s a hard worker. I know for a fact you are a good and hardworking man.” Sandor was shocked by your compliment. He rarely got compliments back home. This was new for him, he didn’t know how to react. He just kept looking at you as you caressed his hand on your lap.

He finally had the courage to say something when the door of the library opened. He quickly ripped his hand away from your grasp as he stood up from the loveseat. He was about to draw his weapon but stopped when he saw it was Kylo. He ignored your stares as he walked away back to the doors. He couldn’t believe that he had gotten so distracted by you. A simple touch from you and he let his guard down.

Sandor and Kylo took turns when it came guarding you at night. You had told them that it’s outrageous to have someone standing guard at your door during the night but they simply told you that it’s their duty to protect you know matter what time of the day.

It had taken Sandor a week for you to finally convince him to come inside your room and take a seat on a chair so he could rest his legs. He had mentioned to you that he had injured his leg back home. It took a month for Kylo to finally come inside your room during the night and sit on the same chair as Sandor.

Kylo kept quiet while sitting near the fireplace. Kylo had to admit you were the nicest person he’s ever guarded. You always had a pitcher of water and a couple of books in the Latin language for him. He had mentioned to you once that he adores reading in Latin and the very next day you have gotten books for him. One night you couldn’t sleep, you tossed and turned in your bed. It was Kylo’s turn guarding you that night. He had seen that you were unable to sleep and had suggested reading to you in Latin. You knew nothing of the language, but hearing his soft, deep voice relaxed you. After a few minutes of him reading out loud to you, you were fast asleep

What you didn’t know was that as soon as you were asleep. Kylo and Sandor couldn’t help but look at you. They stood by the end of the bed. They envy the sheets and blankets that touched your body. Whenever it was Sandor’s turn he was too frightened to even touch you so he stared. He felt so unworthy to even touch you. He wanted to touch the hand that touched him. You had no problem grabbing onto him whenever he guarded you during the day. You don’t even ask permission to hold his hand or his arm. He felt like he needed permission from the Gods themselves to even touch you.

Kylo looks over at you when he hears soft snoring. He carefully gets up trying not to make a sound as he walks to your bed. He knew it was wrong to touch you while you were sleeping but he couldn’t help it. He enjoys the touch of your hair. It was soft to him, with shaky hands he touches your fingers as well. His lips tremble to kiss them. Kylo admits he’s a sinner, he’s always been one. He was always in the company of women to feel something. To feel whole but it never worked but being in your company was something else. Something pure and something out of love.

As the days became months and the months had become years it was two years since Kylo and Sandor became your guards. They knew their job was going to get harder when your father became ill. He was unfit to be king anymore and because of it, people in the realm started to second guess your father’s decision of choosing you as the heir to the throne.

It had happened so quickly when your father was bedridden when a lord from a house had spoken out.

“Let me remind you of this, Lord Peter of House Mancen.” Sandor watched as you stood up from your seat. He wanted to cut this man's head off for barging in and disrupting the council's meeting.

“Two years ago, the King of this realm had appointed me as the heir of the throne.” Kylo watched as you walked towards the man while you spoke.

“It is my duty, my birthright and my throne. Let this be known and tell anyone who has doubts. I will be queen, I will rule and I will defend my throne from anyone who is stupid enough to try and take it away from me.”

Lord Peter of House Mancen frowned as you walked back to your seat. Sandor and Kylo were quick to move when they saw the man reach for something.

“Stop.” You shouted. Kylo and Sandor froze as well as the Lord.

“This is your last and only warning, Lord Peter of House Mancen. Speak out of turn or betray me, I will end you. I will end your house and I will end your family. I will make your house disappear, I promise you that.”

“Shut the door on your way out.” You said when the Lord didn’t speak. He bowed at you and walked out, shutting the door behind him. The council continued and ended successfully. You didn’t notice how Sandor and Kylo looked proud at you from behind.

The proud look on their faces turned into pity when your father had passed in his sleep two days later. Sandor and Kylo had put their differences aside even though they worked together for two years now, they still had a few issues among themselves. They did it when you became depressed the first few days after your father’s death. Only your ladies-in-waiting entered in and out of your chambers. Sandor and Kylo couldn’t help but feel a bit sad at the fact you didn’t want to see them. They heard your cries and the voices of your ladies-in-waiting consoling you behind your chambers door.

A week after they were allowed to enter your chambers. It was the day of your coronation, they stood in awe as you stood in front of your mirror. You looked over your shoulder at them. You turned to face them and greeted them with a small smile.

“Forgive me, Sandor and Kylo. I haven’t been myself these few days. I was embarrassed of both of you seeing me in such a state.”

Kylo shook his head. “No need to be embarrassed. I..” Kylo stuttered for a moment and quieted down.

“Speak.” You said softly looking at him. Sandor eyed the brunette and knew what he was going to say. They had talked before entering your chambers.

“I know we are your guards but I would like for you to think of us as..” Kylo’s cheek grew red as he couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t help himself. You looked so beautiful in front of them.

“Friends.” Sandor spoke, finishing Kylo’s sentence. Sandor felt the same way. “You can think of us as close friends, perhaps. If you like.”

They watched as your smile grew and walked closer to them. Without a word you grabbed one of their hands and gently gave them a squeeze.

“Yes, I would like that very much.” Looking up at them, you give them a smile. Before any of them can respond, you bring Kylo’s hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss on his knuckles. You did the same with Sandor’s hand.

Kylo and Sandor knew nothing more could happen between you and them. You were to be queen and they were just simply guards. No relationship can come from it but your kiss, a simple gesture made their hearts blossom for you. They were utterly in love with you.

The coronation was beautiful. They stood on either side at the bottom steps of the throne as they watched you walk down the aisle. You wore a white and red dress with a long cape trailing behind you. You walked with poise and your head held high as everyone stood by the sidelines. You were nervous, you were frightened that something would happen. You looked ahead at the two pairs of brown eyes and you felt confident. Kylo had told you that they made sure no one had a weapon with them. Sandor had his own men guarding each entrance of the grand hall.

You felt safe as you sat down on your throne and the crown was placed on your head. The people cheered with glee as you were announced the Queen. Kylo and Sandor walked up the steps and bow, taking their place behind you.

The sight of you sitting down with two large, virile men standing on either side of you looked like a painting. Their eyes were dark and narrowed as they stared at the crowd. Their silver armor they wore was polished, the red cape hung from their broad shoulders was a bright red, the color of the Queen’s guards.

A year has passed and many have come to terms that you were queen. Few had their doubts and it made you angry. You were honorable and merciful. You kept Kylo and Sandor as your personal guards. Since you became queen, they were the only people you trusted with your life. They were your only friends and your only true companion.

Kylo remained coquet. You often listen to your ladies-in-waiting gossiping about seeing Kylo with another lady. Part of you didn’t mind it, he was a guard, a friend nothing more but he would compliment you and make you feel like you were the only woman in the world. He made you blush and feel warm inside.

The feeling was the same with Sandor. You feel his gaze when he guards you. Unlike Kylo, Sandor was quieter and kept to himself. He talked only when spoken to. He tended to keep to himself but whenever bothered he had a vile tongue. Just when you thought you were making progress by breaking down Sandor’s wall to finally make him feel comfortable with you it would blow up in your face. A simple touch, he would draw back. If you got close to him, you saw how his lips were pressed together into a frown. Sandor had his good and bad days and Kylo knew that. He would bother Sandor when he noticed the older guard in a mood just for kicks.

They didn't get along, they were like cats and dogs and while Sandor kept to himself Kylo was more open with everyone. Sandor rolls his eyes every time Kylo would flirt whenever they passed by a woman. Somedays he would yell at Kylo to shut the fuck up. Kylo was too cocky and always had a smirk which Sandor hated.

“Are you done looking at her?” Kylo looked over his shoulder as Sandor stood guard by the door. He rolled his eyes at Sandor and went back to the same position as Sandor. His back to the door.

“Just making sure she’s alright.” Sandor scoffs at Kylo’s words.

“Trying to get a peek more like it, you ass.” Kylo clenched his jaw.

“Like you haven't tried it.” Kylo answered back, making Sandor turn to him with a frown.

“Don't try to deny it. I see how you look at her. You probably think about her whenever you're alone.”

“Fuck you.” Sandor snarled at him as he looked away from Kylo. Embarrassment washed over Sandor, he always made sure Kylo never saw him staring at you.

Kylo let out a chuckle. “It’s like you think you might have a chance with her. We are nobody compared to her.”

“Even if we were somebody, I doubt she will pick yo-” Sandor quickly pushed Kylo against the wall with his arm against Kylo’s throat. Kylo let out a gasp as Sandor pushed his arm harder against his neck. Kylo looked up at the man and Sandor gave him a scowl.

“Do you want to end up like your brother?” Sandor hissed, making Kylo glare at him at the mention of his deceased brother.

“Fuck you.” Kylo said with a hoarse voice. His face was about to turn red but Sandor let him go. Kylo coughed as he held his neck with his hands while looking at Sandor walking back to his post.

“If she had to pick it would be me-”

You were about to thank the seamstress as she took notes of your measures when you heard shouting. You quickly walked out of the room and looked down the hall to see your guards fighting each other. Their swords banged each other as they shouted. You looked between them as Kylo yells at him. Sandor was stronger though and got Kylo to fall on his back but Kylo was quicker and blocked Sandor’s steel that was aiming for his head.

“Enough.” You shouted as you walked towards them. They stopped at the sound of your voice. Their eyes widen at the angry sight of you and knelt down on one knee. You watched as both men looked down at the ground waiting for you.

“What happened?” You questioned them. They both were out of breath as they looked up. They didn't know what to say. Both were ashamed that you had to witness them. They were fighting like children over you.

“Such boys.” You said as you shook your head at them. They quickly rose up when you started to walk away from them.

“No.” You shouted when you looked over your shoulder to see them following you. You pointed a finger at them, “I discharged both of you tonight. I don't need boys to guard me. When you're done acting like one, come to my chambers.”

They watched as you turned around and walked away. Kylo let out a sigh and put his sword back to his scabbard, Sandor let out a tsk and looked away.

Kylo didn't want to end badly with Sandor. Kylo wanted to continue guarding you and servicing you. He wasn't going to let Sandor get in the way of that. Kylo wasn't stupid, he knew the older man had a crush on you. He knew it because he himself had one on you as well.

“I’m sorry.” Kylo said. Sandor remained silent as he looked at Kylo. He didn’t trust Kylo, he was waiting for Kylo to attack again since you were gone but he didn’t.

“Let me buy you a pint as an apology.” Sandor let out a sigh and nodded. He followed Kylo as they walked down the hall. He wasn’t going to say no to free ale.

The tavern outside the castle was filled that night. The serving girl quickly got Kylo and Sandor a table and a pitcher of a dark ale when she saw the sigil of royalty on their armor. Sandor sat across from Kylo as they shared a pitcher of ale.

“Sorry about bringing up your brother.” Sandor said after the first cup of ale. Kylo looked up from his own cup. He was surprised that Sandor spoke to him. He thought the night was going to be quiet.

“It’s fine.” Kylo said. Sandor watched as Kylo looked back down at his cup.

“You miss him?” Kylo nods at Sandor. “He was my best friend. We were twins. The day he died, a piece of me died with him.”

“Do you miss your brother?” Kylo asked. Sandor didn’t answer, he only shook his head no.

“How do you know about him?” Sandor asked as he looked around the tavern.

“I was there that day in the library.” Kylo said shyly, he looked at Sandor who was now glaring at him.

“Motherfuc-.”

“I’m sorry. I was walking in to relieve you when I heard you speaking to her.” Kylo said before Sandor could finish.

“If you tell anyone about this.” Kylo shook his head.

“I won’t but can I just say I do hope your brother dies. I can’t imagine ever hurting my brother like that.” Sandor took a gulp of his drink before answering.

“I hope he dies too.”

“You think he’ll follow you here?” Kylo asked.

“Why you asking so much fucking questions?!” Sandor growled at Kylo. Kylo tossed his hands up showing defeat and sighed.

“Just asking questions. Trying to get to know you better.” Kylo said, making Sandor roll his eyes.

“You talk to fucking much.” Sandor commented.

“Well if we are going to guard the Queen. We might as well try to get along. She was pretty upset when she saw fighting.”

Sandor was about to agree when he saw a young girl walking behind Kylo with a smile. She wore a dress too small that showed her curves and her cleavage was about to spill over the bodice she wore on top of the dress.

“Well, hello there.” The woman said as she placed a hand on Kylo’s shoulder.

“You look pretty lonely here. Want some company?” Sandor looked away as he poured more ale into his cup.

He was shocked when Kylo rejected the woman’s offer and told her he’s busy. Sandor looked at the young woman who had a surprised face, she couldn’t believe that he rejected her.

“She could have made you happy.” Sandor told him as they both looked over at the girl who was making her way towards another table.

“I don’t want her.” Kylo said, grabbing the pitcher from the table.

“The queen then?” Sandor asked.

“Yeah. Just like you, Clegane.” Sandor shook his head about to disagree.

“Fucking hell, I know you do because I heard the maids gossiping about you.” Sandor made a face as Kylo spoke.

“What did they say?”

Kylo grinned. “You haven’t fucked anyone since you started guarding her even before that when you came to the kingdom.”

“That has nothing to do with me wanting her.”

“Sandor! Men fuck. It’s what we do. We kill and we fuck. You want her or you just want cock, do tell me. There’s a stable boy who might be a fit for you.”

“I don’t like cock.” Sandor stated.

“You’re quite popular though. The maids at the castle want to see what you got hiding under that armor .” Sandor shook his head.

“You are popular. Even the Queen looks at you. I catch her plenty of times staring at you, especially when you’re fighting in tournaments. You with that helmet shaped like a wolf.”

“It’s a hound.” Sandor corrected him and continued on. “She watches you as well. When you’re riding or reading that damn book in Latin.”

“Guess she looks at both of us.” Kylo said.

It was about midnight when Kylo and Sandor decided to go back to the castle. Sandor had to admit Kylo was interesting. He wasn’t like anyone he met in King’s Landing. Kylo spoke more about his brother after the fourth pitcher of ale. He told Sandor how his twin brother fell in love with a lady from a house. A girl named Rey and Ben had gone to war for her. Kylo went with Ben since he always follows his brother no matter what. Ben died protecting Kylo during the war. At the end it was for nothing, Rey didn’t mourn for his brother. Not even a single tear was shed for his brother. Kylo told Sandor she got married with some lord the following days. Kylo has been alone since then doing all sorts of jobs to get him by. The ale got to Sandor too, the older man told Kylo about his fights in King’s Landing and how he used to guard a little bitch prince who was the product of incest. He wouldn’t forget the sight of Kylo’s face when he told him that the Queen was fucking her twin brother. They both talked among themselves as they made it to the castle.

“We should apologize.” Kylo said standing outside of your chambers.

“Aye.” Sandor answered before knocking on the door.

They heard you grant permission to enter. Sandor was the first to enter, he felt Kylo walk beside him. Both stood still as they saw you sitting in front of your vanity. You wore your night clothes, a dark red robe over your pink nightgown. You kept staring at yourself at the mirror as you brushed your hair.

“My queen.” Kylo said after clearing his throat. “If this is a bad time, we will come back tomorrow.”

“No.” You said putting the hairbrush down and looking at them through the mirror. You turned around and rose up from your chair.

“You're done being childish?” You asked them.

“Aye, we're sorry, your grace.” Sandor told you as you walked towards them. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Why were you fighting?” You asked them as you looked between them.

When they didn’t respond quick enough you spoke again. “Are you both not happy with me?” Their eyes widened at your words. Guilt filled their hearts at the thought of you thinking they weren’t content with you.

“Haven't I been kind? Not generous enough?” You asked knowing damn well that can’t be the reason. They get paid well for guarding you.

“I let you fuck with whoever you want and not say a word.” You told Kylo who’s face paled.

“Do you know the embarrassment I go through when someone tells me that my guard has been seen half naked coming out of the servants quarters?”

You looked at Sandor. “I kept my promise to you about not speaking about your past. I had lied to my father for you before he passed away. The council will have my head if they found out the reason why you left Westeros. My throne would be in jeopardy for keeping a secret like that.”

Sandor dropped his head. You looked at them both with a pained expression. “The servants have heard and seen your little fight. It spread like wildfire through the castle. They think I'm incapable of handling both of you.”

You walked away from them as you shook your head. “They look for ways to find anything wrong with me so they can take my throne.

“Tell me at once. Why were you both fighting?” You shouted. “If you don't then leave and never come back.”

“We want you.” Sandor's mouth dropped at Kylo’s confession. He looked to the right to see Kylo staring at you.

“What?” You questioned looking at both of them.

“He’s right.” Sandor added, perhaps it was the ale running though his system but he knew they had to tell you the truth. It was the only way for them to continue to stay with you.

“You have me already. I don't understand.” Kylo shook his head at you.

“Not that way, your grace. We want you, all of you. We want to be with you.” Kylo told you.

“More than guards.” Sandor said, walking towards you. Sandor has never felt this way before towards a woman. You gave him sympathy, you treated him as a human something he's never experienced before. In some way it frightens him but if you were to reject him then he would leave, if you command it.

“I want you.” Sandor’s words came out in a whisper when he looked at you.

“Both of you do?”

“Yes.” Kylo answered you, he followed Sandor’s steps towards you.

“It was because of me you were fighting, then.” you walked closer to them. You smell the ale on them, they were awestruck when you grabbed their hands with your own. With Kylo, you grabbed his hand with your left hand and you grabbed Sandor with your right hand.

“Both of you smell like you have drunk the entire tavern. How do I know your words are true?” You asked them.

“The ale is helping with our confidence.” Kylo admits giving your hand a squeeze.

You took a deep breath as you looked at them. “Why do you think I have not accepted any proposal?” You asked them.

Sandor and Kylo looked at each other for a second before looking back at you. This was very true, the years they have been with you. You’ve rejected all the many proposals you received.

“I had hoped that one of you would step forward and claim me as theirs but now I have two.” You dropped their hands softly before backing away. Each of them looked disappointed. They can see you were deep in thought. You looked around your chambers then at them.

“If this happens. No fighting between both of you.” Sandor lets out a sigh of relief when you speak.

“This must be between us.” Sandor nodded.

“And I don’t share.” You said looking at Kylo. “Both of you would be mine and mine alone.”

You stared at Kylo wondering if he knew what you meant. You don’t think you have the stomach to see Kylo with another woman but what you are asking of him felt a bit selfish. You’re asking him to just be with you and only you.

A smile appears on Kylo’s handsome face. “I’m yours. Only yours.” He tells you.

Your smile matches his and you held yourself back because at that moment all you wanted to do was kiss him. You look over at Sandor. His face is stone cold, he has no expression on his face. You couldn’t read him.

“Sandor.” You whispered his name, hoping to find the answer you wanted. You wanted him to say yes, you wanted him to hold you and kiss you. You wanted those large hands on you, you wanted those lips and Kylo’s lips over your body.

“I’m yours. Only yours.” He said it with a sultry tone.

Your feet had a mind of their own, you walked towards them. You went to the closest to you, Kylo. His eyes were dripping with desire as you got close to him. Shaky hands make their way to his neck, he leans down to kiss you.

Sandor watches as Kylo cups your face as he kisses you. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against his. “I’m yours.” You whispered against his lips.

You pull away from Kylo and walk toward Sandor. You can’t help but smile at him as you step in front of him. His armor was cool under your touch as you went on your tiptoe to kiss him. Just as Kylo, Sandor leans down to kiss you. He copies Kylo’s move and cups your cheek. He doesn’t want to stop, how can he? He was just kissed by an angel. He feels your hands on his neck now, fingertips touching the ends of his hairs.

“Only yours.” You tell Sandor. You were caught by surprise when Sandor kissed you again. The kiss was soft and so desperate to taste you, you melted under his touch. You feel his hand on your waist, as he pulls away to kiss your neck. You gasped when you felt Kylo behind you kissing your shoulders.

“Before anything happens, the guard down the hall. Discharge him and come back.” You tell them, walking away from them. You dropped the robe as you looked over your shoulder at them while untying your nightgown.

“Hurry. Don't keep me waiting long.” You said before walking to your bed.

Sandor looks over at Kylo who was smirking as he stared at you.

“We lay with her?” Sandor asked as Kylo signaled him to join him to discharge the guard.

“No shit, I mean if you want to watch. That’s fine by me.” Kylo answered him while opening the door.

“I-I never laid with..” Kylo comes to a halt and stares up at him.

“You’re a virgin?!” Kylo’s eyes widened and Sandor rolled his eyes at him.

“Of course, not. I fucked back home. I just never fucked a woman with a man in the same bed.” Sandor wants to punch Kylo in the face when he starts to laugh.

“It’s not bad.” Kylo told him. “I’m not into men.” Sandor said and Kylo raised his brows at him.

“Me too but we both want her and by some miracle she wants us just as much as we want her.” Kylo said as he walked down the hall. Sandor followed him and waited for Kylo to speak with the guard.

“Look, let’s not fuck this up. You stay on one side and I’ll stay on the other side. If you happen to touch my dick then so be it, it’s not going to fall off.” Sandor's cheeks turn pink by Kylo’s word.

“I’m also hoping you won’t kill me if I accidentally touch you.” Kylo said as they watched the guard walk away.

“I just might depending where you touch.” Sandor said and Kylo shrugs shoulders.

“Do it after we do the deed.” Kylo said and they both walked back to you.

Sandor shuts the door behind him after Kylo walks in. Kylo looks over his shoulder at Sandor with a smirk, dark eyes shining with excitement. This is what they wanted, this is what they have been craving for so long and now you are here, ready to be devoured and pleased by them. Sandor unhooks Kylo’s cloak as he turns for the younger guard to do that same with his.

In sync, they took off their armor and weapons quickly and dropped it on the floor as they noticed candle lights appear further in the room. You were waiting for them.

Kylo glances over at Sandor when he is done removing his armor. He notices Sandor breathing heavily almost like he was afraid.

“Clegane.” Kylo whispers. Sandor looks down at him.

“Let’s get our girl.” Sandor nods before walking towards your bed, they notice the nightgown on the floor.

Kylo pulls the curtain showing your bed, you’re sitting in the middle of the bed with your back to the headboard. They noticed you were naked with only the sheets covering your chest. Kylo removes his black tunic shirt and he sees your eyes glue to his chest. Kylo’s chest is toned, his abs are defined and you can see scars on his body from his battles. Sandor does the same and you bite your bottom lip when you see Sandor’s chest. His chest is covered with dark coarse hairs. It went all the way down to his stomach.

Kylo notices how your eyes are drawn towards Sandor and he can’t help but feel a bit jealous of the older man.

“I have never done this before. Never with one man but now I have two. Be patient with me, I beg.” You tell them.

Kylo smiles and walks towards the bed. “You’re in luck, my queen. I happen to be a wonderful teacher.” You smile at Kylo as he sits down on the edge of bed.

“Perhaps my assistant would like to start you off.” Kylo said, looking over at Sandor.

Sandor licks his lips before walking to the bed and sits next to you. His eyes widen when you get close to him, the sheet drops from your chest.

“Fuck.” Sandor whispered as he got close to you.

You look at Kylo who smirks at your shyness. “Go on. Show our queen how a Westerosi kiss their woman.”

Sandor was glad Kylo urged him to make the move. It wasn’t the gods that gave him permission, but it will do. Sandor leans down to kiss your lips as you lean towards him. You moan when you feel his hands on your body. Kylo watched as Sandor held you in his arms as he kissed you. His hands ran up and down your back before settling on your hips. Kylo stands to remove his boots and trousers when Sandor gently pushes you down on the bed and gets between your legs.

You’re moaning as you raise your arms to wrap them around his neck. Kylo watches as Sandor pushes your legs open so he can get between them.

“You’re perfect.” Sandor says as he pulls away and looks down at your body. He cups one of your breasts and leans down to lick your nipple. You squeal when you feel his beard tickle your skin.

“Oh my- oh!” You moan when you feel Sandor suck on your nipples, throwing your head back. Your eyes shoot open when you feel him start to kiss your rib cage, all the way down to your stomach.

To your surprise you see Kylo ahead of you. He’s staring at Sandor and you. You bring a hand to your mouth when you see him jerking himself off. Kylo licked his lips at you when he noticed you’re staring at him pumping himself. You look down when you feel Sandor touch your cunt.

The bed dips down and you feel Kylo over you, his face comes from above. His dark curls frame his face, his eyes glistening with lust.

“He’s going to eat your cunt. He’s getting it ready for us.” Kylo says peeking at Sandor who was looking at him between your legs.

Kylo kisses your lips while Sandor kisses the lips between your legs, Kylo drinks your moans as Sandor slips his tongue into you. Kylo nips your chin as he cups your breast pinching your nipple, looking at you for your reaction.

“Lick them, please.” He obeys without a single thought.

Sandor looks up at you to see Kylo next to you, kissing you while he eats your cunt. He grows hard as he watches Kylo lick your nipples, his pink tongue swirling around the hard nipple.

“Wait-t-t. Please.” You cry out to Sandor who's feasting your cunt.

“You're going to cum, my queen. It’s okay.” Kylo whispered against your forehead before kissing it. He watches you as you arch your back, he continues to play with your nipples. He grins to himself when he hears your moaning as you tremble while coming undone.

Kylo catches his stare and raises a brow. “How does she taste, Clegane?”

“Heavenly.” Sandor said hoarsely as he licked his lips, making Kylo laugh. He looks down at you to move your hair out of your face.

“Did you hear?” He asked you. You nod while blushing. “You feel good?” You nod once more.

“I'll be back soon, I must have a taste for myself.” Kylo said, leaning down to kiss you on the lips. Kylo quickly gets off the bed and kneels next to Sandor.

“Both of you?” You asked as you spread your legs wider. “Is that what you want?” Kylo asked.

Sandor saw how your eyes widened and a blush appeared across your cheeks. You give them a nod.

Kylo winks at Sandor and kisses your inner thigh, Sandor notices your reaction and he copies it, kissing the right side of your inner thigh.

“Fuckk.” Kylo moans when he makes it to your cunt, kisses it softly, kissing your slick cunt, Sandor has done a number on you. He licks up and down your slit a few times as he touches himself. He looks at Sandor who's staring at him.

Sandor tense up when Kylo grabs one of his hands. “Give me your hand.” Sandor leans closer to him as Kylo uses the older guard fingers. He hushes you when you whimper when he softly slips Sandor’s finger into you.

“Yes, move it.” Kylo tells Sandor as he makes room for him to keep fingering you. Kylo licks your clit, kisses it, sucks on it as Sandor pumps his finger into you.

“Shit.” Kylo moans when he has a taste of your cunt. Sandor was right.

Kylo pulls Sandor’s finger and tells him to stick it in your mouth. “Give her a taste of her heavenly cunt.”

You open your mouth wide when Sandor laid next to you. He watched in surprise how you acted. You sucked his fingers, moaning at the taste of your slick on his thick digits.

“Sandor.” You whispered with a mouth filled with his fingers.

He pulls away to kiss you sweetly and gentle. He wants your first time to be good. He bumps his nose with yours and looks at Kylo.

“Look at him.” Sandor whispers in your ear as you whine in pleasure when Kylo puts your legs on his shoulders.

“It’s happening again.” You cry out as you grind yourself on Kylo’s face, his nose is pressing against your clit.

“That’s it.” Sandor tells you. “Cum all over his face.”

Sandor saw you looking between him and Kylo, when you reached your hand for Sandor’s face. He pressed his lips against yours as you came.

Sandor kissed your cheek, pressing chaste kisses on your face as you breathed heavily. You had thrown your head back trying to catch your breath. Sandor watches your body tremble, he just thinks to himself what a beautiful body you have. All these years you have been hiding this body under your gowns, your skin is glowing, covered in saliva and love bites that are already bruising on your body.

Kylo chuckles as he gently pushes your leg off his shoulder, and crawls on top of you. Sandor looks at him as he smiles wide down at you. His face is glistening as he licks his lips.

“Does it always feel good?” You asked as Kylo laid next to you. You look between them.

“Only when we are doing it.” Sandor answers you as he brings his hand up to touch your body. Kylo smirks at him and nods when you turn to look at them.

“He’s absolutely right. Just us. Only us. Sandor and me.” Kylo touches your inner thighs as Sandor touches your hips.

“Aren’t I fortunate, then.” You said after a few seconds. Their hands never left yours, their dark eyes remained on you.

“I would like to return the favor.” They saw you blushing as you glanced between them, glancing between their legs. Kylo looked over at Sandor, the older guard’s face was pink by your words.

Kylo wanted to roll his eyes at him but he remembered. This is Sandor's first time sharing a woman in bed. Kylo can see Sandor was the type to be territorial. Kylo had shared women with men like that. Kylo has decided he will make this enjoyable for them and for you. He wanted Sandor and you to have a good experience, if both of you did. This wasn't going to be a one time thing.

“My queen, what do you know about sucking cock?” Kylo asked.

“I heard of it from the servants.” You admitted shyly making him grin at you as he squeezed your inner thigh gently.

“Do you hear this, Sandor?” Kylo said with wide eyes as he gave a smile at the older guard.

Sandor nods looking down at you, his rough hands still rubbing your body. “Maybe next time.”

Kylo was happy Sandor was taking a stand, he was wondering if Sandor would just follow whatever he said. “I want to make you feel good as well.”

Kylo watched as Sandor gently cupped your face. “You shall. Tonight it’s about you. Alright?”

Kylo nods at him then at you. “We will have more time for that. Let your strong and trustworthy guards learn their way of their queen’s body tonight.” He tells you as his hand roamed down, over your mound. His fingertips found your clit, he hums when he feels you clenching around him when he slips a finger in.

“Such a greedy cunt.” Kylo tells Sandor as he pulls his finger out and grabs a hold of Sandor’s wrist. Kylo wants him to be comfortable around his touch. Sandor tensed when he felt Kylo’s grab a hold of his wrist. Fingers were wet with your slick, he let Kylo take his arm between your legs. He glanced under you and you were staring down at their joint hands. You were joying this just as much as they were.

“So wet.” Kylo mumbled when he bought Sandor’s hand about your clit as he slipped his fingers inside again.

“Help me.” Kylo said to Sandor as he rubbed your clit again. You began to moan when Kylo thrusted his fingers into you as Sandor worked on your clit.

They had you trembling after your third orgasm. They sucked their own fingers after you came. You felt like mush, you didn't hear them talking to one another. Glancing at them, they were close, Kylo spoke to Sandor in his ear. You moved your hands to grab their attention.

“I like you both like this. Not fighting one another.” You told them and they looked at each other.

“No more fighting.” Kylo said as he lay down next to you on his side while Sandor sat, facing ahead.

Kylo kissed you before you could speak. “Are you up for having sex?” Kylo asked you. He kissed your cheek waiting for your response as Sandor remained still.

“I want it. Both of you.” Kylo calls Sandor’s name as he kisses your neck. “Good.”

“Sandor and I decided. Sandor should go first.” Kylo notices how nervous Sandor and you were.

“Sandor can't help himself.” Kylo whispers. “Such a pretty queen with a greedy cunt. Such a greedy cunt wanting to be filled.”

You blushed by Kylo’s words. “Call for him.” Kylo added, looking over at Sandor who still sat.

“Sandor.” You said his name as Kylo kissed your neck. “Please.” Kylo encouraged you to say more.

“Sandor, please fuck me. I want you. I wanted you for years.” Sandor looks over his shoulder at you. He glances at Kylo who kept nodding at him, telling him to go on.

Kylo parts your legs wider and looks up at Sandor. “It’s rude to have your queen waiting, Clegane.”

“Please.” You begged and Sandor was quick to act, removing his trousers along with his boots. The bed dipped under you when Sandor leaned over you. Kylo pushes your leg up to drape it over Sandor’s thick legs. Your eyes remained at Sandor’s cock. His cock intimidated you, it’s thick and veiny. You feel it against you, it's warm and heavy.

“All of that goes in?” You asked looking up at Sandor who kept rubbing your outer thighs. Kylo laughs making you blush as Sandor rubs your abused clit.

“Indeed.” Kylo answers and you notice his hands, he was touching himself. His cock was much longer and a bit thinner than Sandor. You can see his heavy set balls while Sandor’s dark pubic hid his.

“Can I touch it?” Sandor nods at you and brings your hand onto his cock. Your legs tighten around him as you touch it. You barely could wrap around it. Sandor moans and you quickly let go.

“Did I hurt you?” Kylo giggles and you look over at him.

“Not hurting, pleasuring.” Kylo said, moving your hand back to Sandor’s cock.

Kylo mumbled against your ears, telling you to jerk Sandor’s cock faster. You grew happy when Kylo praised you, he kept telling you that you're doing such a good job touching Sandor.

“Fuck.” Sandor was quick to remove your hand and he leaned down to kiss you.

Kylo stares at how Sandor kisses you, the way you let out a small moan when he grabs your face. Kylo touches his cocks, pumping himself when Sandor pulls away with a grunt as he latches on one of your nipples. Kylo hears you giving permission to Sandor to enter you. Kylo grins himself when Sandor looks over at him and sees him touching himself. Kylo winks at him and Sandor looks down at you.

Kylo doesn’t think he has ever been this hard before, the tip of his cock is leaking and balls are heavy when he sees Sandor thrusting into you. Sandor hides against your neck as he pumps into you. The sight of your face and the sounds you were making him. The sounds of Sandor grunting made him blush.

Kylo notices you looking over at him and he can't help but kiss your lips.

“How does she feel?” Sandor moans when he brings his face away from your neck. He doesn't stop thrusting when he looks at Kylo. Sandor grabs the sheets under you, twisting in a tight fist.

“So, good.” You clench around at his words, your hands touch his chest, running your fingers through his chest hair as he rams into you.

“Oh my, your grace.” Kylo says as Sandor pushes your legs towards your chest. Both men are looking at your cunt being spread open by Sandor’s cock.

Kylo can see Sandor’s cock going in and out of you. You’re crying out in pleasure, Kylo is holding your legs open while Sandor’s keeps fucking you.

“It’s happening again.” You whine looking at them. Kylo’s hand slides its way to your clit, Sandor doesn’t stop, he loves it too much. The way your tight cunt wraps around him, so hot and warm. He groans when he feels you clench around him harder when Kylo begins to rub your throbbing clit.

“Cum on his cock. Cum on Sandor’s cock.” Kylo whispers to you making you cry out when he gently slaps your clit.

Sandor curses loudly when he feels you cumming on his dick. He’s about to blow and slides himself off to jerk himself.

“I want it.” You cry out. Kylo watches Sandor moan loudly when he cums. He shoots his load on your belly.

“Fuck.” Sandor said hoarsely. He watches your fingers scoop his cum from your stomach and bring it up to your lips. He saw Kylo whispering to you, this had to be his idea of you tasting his cum.

Sandor thinks Kylo’s some sex fairy for a second but he was glad that you didn’t mind sharing your bed with two men.

“Sandor.” You call his name with a heave. Sandor notices you open your arms for him and he leans down. He flinches when you cup his burnt cheek, your eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you.” You told him before kissing him on the lips. He welcomes your lips, kissing you as well.

Kylo gulped when he saw you kissing Sandor, his cock is so painfully hard, it’s throbbing and his balls are aching. He spits in his hand before continuing to jerk himself. He notices Sandor pulling away to kiss your neck. Dark eyes look at Kylo, Sandor licks his lips before looking down at you.

“It’s time for him.” Sandor brushes the strands of hairs off your face.

“He’s going to love this cunt just as much as I did.” You smile up at Sandor and look over at Kylo. Sandor rolls off of you and lays down on the other side. He looks up at the ceiling trying to catch his breath.

He hears your giggling when Kylo crawls over to you. The bed dips and Sandor hears Kylo’s praises. Sandor never watched someone having sex before, he never shared any one. Never been in a relationship before, it’s all new for him but he doesn’t want to give it up. He was nervous when Kylo told him to take you first. He was waiting for Kylo to take advantage of his inexperience but he didn’t. Kylo had told him to take you, make love to you and make you feel good.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kylo moans and Sandor hears him thrusting into you. His cheeks blushes when he hears you. The sound of Kylo’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to him.

He looks over and his cock twitches at the lubricious sight in front of him. Kylo caged your head with his arms as he kissed you while thrusting into you. Legs wrapped around his waist. Kylo grunts into you as you drag your nails down his back.

“I’m going to move you.” You nod at him and Sandor bites his lips when Kylo turns you around carefully. Kylo held you for a second as he kissed you, kissing your cheeks and forehead as he pushed you down.

“Just like that.” He moans at the sight of you, down on your hands and knees with your ass in the air.

You look at Sandor and smile at him.

“Is this ok?” You ask them. Kylo says yes and you wait for Sandor’s response.

“Yes, just like that.” Sandor says as he grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles at the same time Kylo slides into you. You hold Sandor’s hand as Kylo begins to thrust.

The bed creaks and you cry out for god.

“There’s no god in here, my queen.” Sandor says, making Kylo laugh.

“Just us.” Kylo adds. Sandor chuckles at him as you begin to push yourself back on his cock making Kylo moan.

“You’re right.” Kylo moans and looks at Sandor.

“So..good. So fucking good.” Kylo grunts as he slams himself all the way to the hilt. His hands hold to your hips, he leans over you making sure you are okay. Sandor slides a bit closer to you, he notices your furrow brows, your eyes clenched shut and your whines grew loudly.

“Cum.” Sandor said as he reaches under, his hand goes over your belly and your mound. He knew you were close especially when you moaned. Sandor touches your clit, he moans deeply when he touches your cunt, so wet with your slick.

“Yes.” Kylo shouts, feeling you clench around him when Sandor rubs you.

Kylo holds himself until he feels you cumming, he won’t stop until you cum on his cock. He feels his heart beating out of his chest, his ears buzzing every time you moan. You sounded better than he imagined.

“Make her cum, Ren.” Sandor encouraged him as he pressed down your clit making you scream.

“Yes. Yes.” Kylo repeats like a mad man as his thrusts become harder hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

Kylo thinks he had died and the gods had blessed him. There was no other pleasure in life now, he told himself when you came on his cock. Sandor pulls away and Kylo cries out when he pulls out of you and finishes himself off. Jerking himself with your slick, he aims on your bare back as you drop down completely on the bed from exhaustion.

Kylo’s stomach tense up and he throws his head back when he spurts cum over your back.

“Fuck.” He’s winded as he lays down next to you on the other side.

Sandor sees you trembling. You open your eyes when you feel Sandor grab a hold of your hand. You give him a small smile before inhaling deeply.

“I didn’t know people could experience this.” You told them softly. You feel Kylo lean over you kissing your shoulder.

“I see why you do it so much.” You turn your face to look at Kylo.

Kylo looks at you seriously as he tries to catch his breath.

“Now, I’m only going to do it with you. I’m yours and only yours.” Kylo repeats the exact same words the three of you said before.

“I’m yours and only yours.” You said it back and it made him smile. He leans close to your face, giving a peck on your lips.

You turn to face Sandor who was staring at both of you. “I’m yours and only yours.”

Sandor looks at you then at Kylo.

Kylo gives him a nod, almost like telling him yes, this can work. It won’t be perfect but it can work between them.

“I’m yours and only yours.” Sandor finally said. Your smile grew and you made him lean over you to kiss him as well.

They helped you clean yourself when they noticed you were drifting off to sleep. They were going to leave to their own room after setting you into bed. They didn’t want to push even more, even though they knew they could still keep going.

“Stay.” You told them as you went to the middle of the bed. Sandor lays on your right while Kylo lays on your left. You slept on Sandor’s chest as Kylo spooned you from behind. Kylo and Sandor slept that night in your bed as well the following night and the night after that.

Years passed and the relationship had flourished well between Sandor, Kylo and you. Some days were good and others were bad, having two hard headed knights who were in love with you, their queen was no easy task and yes, there were consequences when they fought with each other. Like Sandor and Kylo kneeling in front of you naked, their faces inches away from your wet cunt. They have to share and act like good boys for them to be forgiven. Of course, they were good boys, they shared you with your leg over on each of their broad shoulders. They would eat you out until your legs shook and their faces were soak with your slick.

A/n: Can't get this scene out of my mind.

I can imagine one night the three are in bed and it’s the middle of winter. It’s the harshest winter that the kingdom has ever endured. Everyone is cold af and Sandor being the bear he is, is keeping you warm while Kylo is much leaner, he’s freezing his ass off no matter how many fur blankets he has on.

So when Sandor hears you say to Kylo that he should sleep on Sandor’s side to keep warm a mini fight breaks out. Sandor does not want Kylo to touch him in his sleep. You threatened them, that you were going to sleep in front of the fireplace without them and they quickly shut up.

“Fuck, get over here so I can sleep.” Sandor snaps at Kylo.

“Put your arm around him.” Sandor holds his tongue at you and obeys.

“This is nice.” Kylo said, wiggling his eyebrows at you making you giggle as he and you laid your head on Sandor’s chest.

“Stay still.” Sandor said with a huff as Kylo pulled the blankets up. Everyone went to sleep after that, all nice and toasty thanks to Sandor.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

She Hates Yellow ~ Sandor Clegane x Stark!Reader

What a festive day this was - Most of the Stark children thought, dressing in their best clothes, and the girls having their hair done all pretty. Their parents were nervous for what was to come, and though few knew the truth behind the King and the whole retinue, including the Royal Family coming all the way up North, via the King's Road, Y/N was more than aware. Catelyn Stark found it atrocious - Entrusting Y/N, their oldest child, with such vital secrets... Who knew what could happen?

However, Ned was more lax in his parenting choices, and with his first child especially, his beloved little girl, he personally saw to her training and knew they were so much alike in their thinking and their high justice values. He was happy that he didn't take after him in looks, however - Her hair was long and beautiful, a striking scarlet shade of red that outshined both Cat and he'd even dare say Sansa as well, whose hair shone like copper in the light. Y/N's was unique, a dark red that almost looked like the blood moon on a crimson night.

He valued how silent she was, but when she spoke, only wisdom was heard. Though she did not care for the obvious lady mannerisms, she insisted that she picks about every skill that she could learn, saying that it may come of use, in some way. Ned sometimes wondered if he's so biased because she is his firstborn, or because she was special. For him, she was. For Catelyn, Bran was the favourite child, without a doubt. He felt awful, admitting to having a favourite child, but her and Arya reminded him so much of Lyanna that he couldn't help but cherish them so deeply and indulge in whatever passions they had.

Perhaps, this overprotective love comes for guilt - His little girl had married a Lord, only to immediately take her away from there, as soon as he found out how awfully he treated her. He did not believe in divorce - It was great shame - But also would not stand for having his child mistreated by some stranger.

A parent's greatest joy was the child's happiness - And a father feels most fulfilled when his son becomes a respectable and strong man, and his daughter finds safe haven in the arms of her husband and warmth in the harth of her new family.

When the retinue arrived, Y/N stood tall and proud to her father's side, keeping her noble and regal aura - He couldn't tell where he got this from, but she's always had an inapproachable, intimidating expression on her face, so it was no surprise that she kept most to herself - However, he, of all people, knew how kind and golden her heart was, and how she would do anything to keep her family safe and happy. Evidence on how she was always the peace maker between the siblings, mainly Arya and Sansa, and would take care of all of them equally well.

"Who is that one, daddy?" Lord Stark heard Y/N asking, nodding her head towards the one with the dog-like helmet.  "Looks like Ser Sandor Clegane. He is known as The Hound. He was assigned as Prince Joffrey's sworn shield. They say he is amongst the most powerful knights, although, I believe he didn't take his vows." her father explained to her. "That means the prince is lucky. A man who loves dogs is a man who is trustworthy... But why would anyone choose yellow as their House's flag? Awful." the young lady jest, and upon looking up, she noticed her father trying not to smile. "Thank you." he knew that his daughter had made a joke in poor taste, hoping to ease his nerves.

The King dismounted his horse and hastily marched their way - He looked Ned up and down and greeted him with an insult. The Stark Lord retaliated not with his words, but with his looks alone, before the two old best friends shared an embrace. He looked over each of the children and he complimented them for their strength, their beauty, their potential and what not. Robert Baratheon looked down at the easily confident look on Y/N's face and he let out an amused exhale. "This one, Ned - She has the potential to be a good Queen. I wonder, however, why is it that you said she was like Lyanna, when she looks like a Tully?" though he father was ready to speak, she cut him off before even a word could be uttered.

"Though I have the appearance of a Tully, and the love and loyalty for mine family to match any trout, my justice sense and mine words are true. I was born on a horse's back and have the wolf's blood surging through my veins. Apart from my father, you shall never meet a more just and fair Stark than me." her eyes never left the King's, yet her little speech seemed to earn a hard laughter, and she felt her shoulder being patted. "Aye, I get it, alright. Ned, this one is more like yourself than you are!" though after this supposedly joyful event, the King asked his old friend to take him to the crypt, no doubt to visit Lyanna's grave. With this, Catelyn had to entertain the Queen, and it fell to Y/N to take care of the children. Of course, the boys wanted to have a sparring match.

"Are you not exhausted, Your Grace?" Y/N looked over at Joffrey and his little brother, Tommen. "Of course not. If it is sparring, I can defeat any opponent, at any given time." the Prince stole a charming look at young Sansa, who smiled and looked down bashfully. Y/N wanted to rip his sleazy head right off, with her own two hands. "Very well." the girl nodded and went to the Sers of Winterfell to prepare the training grounds.

With Tommen being easily defeated by Bran, who sent the boy toppling over and struggling to get up, like a tortoise on its shell, Robb was able to defeat the elder Prince, who got angry and suggested using real swords and fight like knights. The one behind him, The Hound, whose helmet was now down, was perfectly alright with such an idea, wanting not only to abide to his Prince's wish, but to further anger the Young Wolf. Of course, the Sers of Winterfell knew better than to accidentally harm the Heir to the Throne and refused to allow Robb to fight with a real sword. The poor Young Wolf was so angry after being humiliated by the laughing blond Prince, that it could have almost been hilarious.

"My younger brother, Robb, is a strong young man, and the possibility of accidentally laying harm upon the Prince would lead to endless consequences to our House. However, if Your Grace would so desire, I believe we can arrive to a compromise. As your Dog so rightfully said -" the girl stole a piercing look to the disfigured towering man before the much smaller lad. "Wars are not won with sparring swords. Thankfully, we are not a war, and hopefully, our Houses will never have to maliciously fight one another. Thus, my compromise is - The next match shalt be fought with real swords, however, your next opponent, shall be me. That way, even if there is accidental harm, it will not have as much strength as if Robb were to swing his sword." but the young Lion's eyes bulged, perplex at the woman before him - What could this wench know about sword fight anyway? She looked attractive, yes, as was more a woman than Sansa, who was his own age - But that did not mean he would not harm her, even intentionally. Alas that would not be gallant of him, and his mother might scold him. What to do, what to do. "You could not possibly be afraid of a maiden's weak grip on a sword, would you, Your Grace?" she could see the Hound struggling to keep his mouth from forming an amused snarl, making him look even uglier.

"Of course I am not afraid - Only of harming a beautiful lady's skin, perchance. Very well, I suppose such a training could suffice, if you so insist. However, a lord stays true to his convictions and every fight is real - I will not be able to allow myself to go easy on you, even with you being a woman." the Hound offered him his sword, which he gripped with pride.

"I appreciate your convictions, Your Grace. I already feel safer, knowing that someone so fair and just would one day be the ruler of the Realms. Take thy stance, Your Grace." with the same stoic expression on her face, the woman garbed in that beautiful yet elegant with its own simplicity light blue dress moved aside her fur coat and revealed her longsword that reached her chest, if placed onto the ground. The handle was shining gold, and it had a large ruby embellished on it, and on top, a perfect mix of metals that made it look like fire. A Valyrian Steel sword like no other - The only sword forged specifically for a woman - Strong and slender. Gifted to her by her Uncle Benjen, who found it beyond The Wall - It was Dark Sister.

Y/N found it easy to parry off the Prince's blows, and even easier to find the edge of the blade to his neck, thus ending their match and earning the honour for House Stark - Though, she also earned enough scolding and blaming from the Young Lion - But it did not matter. This madness was stopped by their fathers who, once they left the crypt, went to check on their unruly children. "What happened here?" the King asked, seeing the sour look on his eldest child's face, and the non-chalant way in which Y/N cleaned her sword and sheathed it back to her hip.

"His Grace wanted to show his prowess - prove how much he's learnt in his swordsmanship journey. I was too afraid of allowing two young and promising young warriors fight each other with real swords, thus, I was to be the mediator and fight him. A young Prince must learn proper fighting techniques, but we must also focus on proper safety precautious." the young maiden spoke, bowing to the King as she spoke - Somehow, the way she did not mention any winner, pleased the Young Lion, who agreed with her - And escaped from a scolding as well.

"Harsh as steel, cold as ice. You Starks are something else. Let us go, the feast is underway." all children seemed to have forgotten any animosity, and they hurried behind their fathers like little ducklings - Everyone was ready for the feast.

Sitting at the table with the royal children, Y/N dearly wanted to escape - It was so loud and obnoxious, everyone was being so overly annoying, and she dearly wanted to know - How in the world could people tolerate children? Heavens forbid, she did not want to see any children, she truly hated them. Her family was enough to deal with, she needn't anything more than that.

With the lemon cake fiasco, Catelyn had Y/N put both Sansa and Arya to sleep, and Jeyne Poole followed her best friend - with the Lannister maid putting Myrcella to bed as well, she was now the only girl at the table - And heavens forbid, it was dreadful with so many battling egos with unbased ground.  

She rose from the table and went outside, to take a breath of fresh air - But the people outside were far merrier and louder than the ones inside, so she went even farther away, into the Godswood, followed by her red wolf, Meleys. Somehow, even though she never believed in Gods, she always felt more at peace in the warmth of the white and red, old forest.

But that peace did not last forever, as Meleys started snarling, consequence of a stranger approaching. With a lethargic laziness, Y/N turned her head to look at the newcomer, and she saw The Hound, towering over her like a mountain troll over a dwarf. "Surely, you are not here to pray." she offered a mock smirk.

"Only fools pray." he barked harshly. "I have been tasked with bringing you back to your room." "By whom?" the maiden raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "My parents stopped looking for me when they realised how often I went to find my peace in the forest."

"Unfortunately for you, missy, your mother wants you to pacify your siblings." this time, it was him making fun of the obvious distress voiced by an almost exasperated groan.

"Can they not just sleep away their disagreements?" she asked, not bothering to get up from the snow on the ground, and even throwing a dismissive hand in the air, to signify the insignificance of their battling childishness.

"Sometimes siblings are more of a bother than its worth, little fox." the man's nickname seemed to pique her interest.

"You would know all about siblings, would you not?" she asked, only to raise to her feet. "And what about me, except for my stature whilst standing next to you, reminds you of a little fox?" the girl asked, pacifying her wolf into calming down.

"Your silver tongue. Do you lie as well as you sweet talk?" the man barked an ugly laugh.

"I am proficient in neither - In fact, I do not like politicians. Mind you, if I was good, I would have been able to say that your Flag looks beautiful - And look convincing. However, as you can see, highlighted better by the moonlight - I cannot." she retorted easily to the man's words.

"A wolf hates dogs? Is it because they are supposed to be tame?" but the girl smirked at him wickedly.

"Yellow is the worst colour known to mankind." her reply made the man look down at her, bewildered by the response.

"The... Colour?" the man grumbled lowly, watching her nod silently. "That is the stupidest argument I ever heard."

"But it did amuse you, and it proved my point. Correct?" the girl's voice seemed triumphant, it was almost endearing, the man thought.

"You are one nasty little fox. And you should know - Nasty little foxes don't last long in King's Landing if they keep that attitude. They will get their tongue cut and their fur made into a damn fine pelt." the man's threat was a warning as well. 

"I can accept that, only if you are the one warming yourself with my very fluffy, warm and perfume-embedded fur. Alas, I can imagine you'd miss this vixen tongue you claim that I have." she shrugged simply. Sandor was taken with her deeply. He wanted to hear more of a snark - Or, perhaps, even better - He should arrange a battle of wits between her and The Imp. That, along with some good ale, should prove to be a fine evening. Great, now he wanted to get rid of that little princeling and go back to being shit-faced drunk in some tavern.

"Don't say those words to those fancy shit lords, little fox. They won't know the difference between jest and truth." the man warned once again, as he heard the girl's playful hum.

"I save it only for the more interesting ones." would it be frowned upon, grabbing her and having her against the tree, right then and there? "Would you count yourself as one... Ser?"

"You'd be wrong to call me any of that stupid shit." the man's growl was akin to a dog's snarling.

"Woof." she let out an empty laugh, taunting him, before hurrying and walking ahead. She dictated when the conversation is over, and for now, it was.

Though they did not interact again, for the few remaining days in Winterfell, they had to see each other daily on the road. The Hound, busy as he was, could always feel the teasing gaze on the back of his head - Yet if he turned, he wouldn't even catch the glimpse of her. When he did find her, however, she was engaged in what looked like rather amusing conversations with none other than the notorious Imp, who made the girl laugh - Girl, who, in turn, made him guffaw even harder. How? He could not tell. Smart people conversations, maybe. He cared for none of those. It's not like he cared, after all. No matter how intriguing or tempting having even a night spent with Lady Y/N, he knew it could never be. She was the Lady of Winterfell, a noble Stark, and she was probably betrothed to begin with. She was old enough for stupid shit like that.

Even so, none of those trivialities could stop him from recalling the alluring conversations shared. Laconic as she was, the sweet-poisoned way in which she spoke - No wonder she could charm even the Imp, who was renowned for his orator skills. He may be a drunk whore just like him, but what he lacked in warrior skills, he had smarts - It was the only perk he had.

The only thing he could do, at least, was to silently watch over her and offer her the protection she may or may not need - After all, who else but he knew best how atrocious the Lannisters truly were? Who else, but him, could know first hand the sadism that Prince Joffrey hid behind that Prince Charming facade which he put on because of his mother. He wasn't the Fair Knight from the sweet stories little maidens always fawned over. He was a monster. And once these wolf pups find out the truth, they may already be the lions' next meal.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder - Old as she may be compared to her siblings, was she also a victim to those love stories? Was she also hopelessly fawning over the Gallant knight Florian and jealously wishing to be in Jonquil's place? Was she also dreaming for miracles, like her little sister Sansa, who was walking willingly into the Lion's den, like a stupid little love sick doe.

And so it happened, when The Hound was dismissed, so that the Crown Prince could have a walk with his young maiden Lady Sansa, whilst Arya called her friend Mycah, the Butcher's boy, with whom she was sparring and playing around with wooden swords; their elder sister Y/N was supervising them from afar, but she was not alone, for the Imp was sitting by her side, a cup of wine in his hand.

The two were engaged in quite the conversation, counting the most interesting rumours about Old Valyria and what caused its doom - Meleys was sitting peacefully next to Tyrion, allowing him to pet her head, content that she could see her owner well, and protect her if needed. "I could never imagine that I would ever, in this life, have the privilege of seeing a direwolf, let alone pet one so docile. Might I say, even the stories don't do them justice. Though I have been able to admire yours the most, all the others were just as beautiful." the Dwarf spoke, looking down at the pup who flicked her ears lazily.

"Count your blessings, Lord Tyrion. Meleys is, after all, the most beautiful of them all. But don't tell Sansa I said that, she would get upset." the girl chuckled lightly, extending her hand to scratch her lovely companion under her chin. 

"May I ask why did you choose that name for her?" the man asked. "Heard by a capricious Lord, they might accuse you of treason."

"I know." she nodded solemnly. "But Meleys was known as the Red Queen. She was, in her prime, the fastest dragon during the Dance of the Dragons, and in light, she shone bright scarlet and coppery. What other name could honour my sweet pup's beauty... As well as mine own?" the girl smirked cunningly. "Besides... Lady Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the Queen who never was - Yet she still maintained her regal grace and wisdom about her. She did not need a title to define her greatness, just as I, as well, do not need any status, wealth, nor fame to define mine worth." Y/N continued to explain. "Moreover... Arya named her wolf Nymeria - I don't need to explain why she chose such a name, do I?" she hid her amusement by sipping more wine.

"I see - I should have known. My Lady, you are rather inspired. I wish more people thought like you - Alas, people's worth is merely defined by beauty, wealth, fame and status alone. Good people are trampled over and used to their last drop." the man sighed, daring, for even one second, to dream of a better life, when his nickname wouldn't be 'The Imp' alone.

"Then you better surround yourself with worthy, trusted people, My Lord. Everyone else is a liar. Most often, even our own selves." though, as soon as she uttered that, Arya's desperate shriek made the three jolt up and run that-a-way. 

"Arya, what happened?!" Y/N asked, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to kill whoever dared touch her sweet sister. Instead, they saw a worried Sansa in the back, and Joffrey, with his sword out, cutting the cheek of poor Mycah. 

"Nephew, what is the meaning of this?" Tyrion asked - But he earned no reply, for Arya, due to her impulsivity and fear of having her friend tortured even more, took the stick she was sparring with and hit the Prince, allowing the Butcher's boy to run away. In his angry frenzy, the blond lion started swinging his sword around aimlessly, cursing the young girl and chasing her around, until Arya tripped and fell on the ground. "JOFFREY, STOP!" Tyrion yelled at the Prince, who pointed his sword to the girl's neck. 

"I WILL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH - CUNT!" seeing how blinded the Prince was, Y/N was ready to tackle Joffrey to the ground, only to have Nymeria leap from behind a bush and she bit his sword hand, making him fall to the ground, dropping the weapon.

"What a mess." Y/N cursed under her breath, as Meleys started growling at Nymeria, who was shorter than her, and she lead her away. Arya quickly swooped up Joffrey's sword and she pointed it at the frightened, bleeding Prince grovelling on the ground pathetically.

"No - Please, no-- Please, don't." the two-faced Prince begged. The young Stark looked at her elder sister, who nodded solemnly at her - Thus, she threw the sword in the river and ran away with her wolf.

"O, Lord Tyrion, I smell a lot of trouble to come." Lady Y/N muttered, looking with horror at the humiliated Prince. Sansa crouched desperately to his side, attempting to comfort and emphatise with him.

"O, my prince, my poor prince - Look what they've done to you. I'll go back to the inn and bring help." but as she reached her hand out to caress his cheek, the boy snarled at the fair maiden. "Don't touch me."

"I very much agree, My Lady." the Lord sighed as he went to his nephew and dragged him up, before taking him back to the camp.

The Stark children were thus brought, along with their father, in front of the King, who was sat on a throne, and the Queen was glaring them up, next to her very much offended son, with the bandaged wrist. Robert Baratheon had a stern look on his face, as he assessed all three of Ned's offsprings, before sharing a short look with his oldest best friend. His first mistake was to ask Sansa to speak, as she was there, having a stroll with Joffrey.

Alas, the two young girls started physically fighting, which made Y/N yell at them sternly to stop. "ENOUGH!" what Ned often couldn't do, Y/N could. Ned could never hit his children - It hurt him too much to even scold them, let alone hit them. But Y/N was their sister. Y/N was stern, and she knew just how harsh she had to be, to make a statement. Y/N roughly grabbed the shoulders of the two girls, pulling them apart, before slapping their cheeks. "You do not quarrel like children before the king. Now stay quiet unless you are spoken to." Sansa knew Y/N better than Arya, she thought, seeing that she was older and spent more time with her. That is why, Sansa knew very well, that she could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times Y/N truly got angry enough and had to brutally separate two siblings after a fight. Unfortunately, it was usually between herself and Arya - She never seemed to have such a problem with the boys... Unless Theon did something remarkably stupid.

"Your Grace, I and my father deeply apologise for their unseeming behaviour. As their elder sister, and the one tasked with watching over them, please, punish me however you see fit." the Stark girl knelt before the King humbly. She knew very well that, not only Robert Baratheon favoured her for allegedly reminding him of his late beloved Lyanna, thus, she hoped she could try and manipulate him into seeing the truth behind the lies. That... And she had Tyrion's alibi, and hopefully, it would work in her favour.

"She's as wild as that animal of hers, she needs to be punished." Cersei glared at young Arya - But the King raised his tone at her, reproaching the Queen.

"What would you have me do, whip her through the streets?!" he sneered at her. "Damn it. Children FIGHT! It's over." the man rolled his eyes, annoyed by having to pacify such a ridiculous situation. Being King was a drag, and being a father was equally terrible.

"Joffrey will bare those scars for the rest of his life." Cersei glared at her husband.

"You let that little girl disarm you?" the King looked with disappointment at his son. In the back, his younger brother, Renly, was laughing his heart out, mocking the Prince for his incompetence. "Take him out of here." the King waved his hand dismissively. "You. Tell me what happened. Get up." with a not so harsh voice, the King motioned for Y/N to get up and speak.

"Although we do not know the entire story, Your Grace, I and Lord Tyrion were there to watch over Arya and her friend, the Butcher's boy, who were sparring with wooden sticks by the river." the girl began her story.

"Lord Tyrion, ey? Then he is also a witness for this mess?" the King asked, having the Imp walk over.

"Yes, Your Grace." the little man nodded. "I and Lady Y/N were engaged into a deep conversation, a little away from the two little ones playing, before we heard Lady Arya screaming. Once we arrived, we saw Prince Joffrey cutting the Butcher's boy with his sword. Lady Arya used her stick to hit the Prince, allowing the boy to escape, but Joffrey started swinging at her. When his sword was pointing at her, her wolf went to attack the Prince, and disarmed him. The way I see it, the wolf merely acted in any way a dog does - Defending its owner." the look of hatred and scorn on the Queen's face was enough to show how displeased she was with the unwanted testimony.

"So you really let a young girl disarm you. With a wooden stick. Enough. I don't want to hear any more of this. Ned, you discipline your child, and I will do the same with mine." the King got up from his throne, as if to end the conversation.

"What about the direwolf?" Cersei snarled awfully through her teeth. "What of the beast that savaged your son?"

"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." one of the knights spoke.

"So be it." the King wanted to let the matter go away and drink his problems away.

"You have two other wolves." Cersei spoke, wanting revenge.

Hearing such vengeful malevolence, Y/N threw herself at Robert Baratheon's feet at once. "Your Grace, I beg of you, do not kill our wolves. They have been as close to us, as our own siblings, since we rescued them, as pups. If it is the act of self-defense the matter, then, by all means, I am willing to have mine own wolf savage me the same as Nymeria did to Prince Joffrey. And if the Queen, Her Grace, wants to see no more wolf, then I will chase them away - We are still close to Winterfell. They can find their way home, to their kin. We were wrong to bring our companions with us - A direwolf's home is the North - It's the forest - Not a highly populated city. I beg of you, your Grace. Have mercy on us, for we love them as much as we love each other." Y/N knelt desperately before the King, pleading and bowing all the way to the ground. She could not imagine ever forgiving herself, or anyone else, should Meleys, Lady or Nymeria be killed. For her family, she would even humiliate herself to such degree.

"Y/N, raise up and look at me - " the King helped the young lady up, speaking in a softer voice. Though she did not have the features of Lyanna Stark, her deep devotion for her family and courage to stand up not on her behalf, but for her kin - She truly was her Aunt's niece. "You are a lady. It is one for a man to have scars, and another for an unmarried lady. You are aware of the implications, aren't you?" he tried to scare her off, but her gleaming eyes and the ambition, passion and love in her beautiful orbs melted his last remaining resolve.

"I will order my wolf to even rip my arm off, if it would please Her Grace and atone for our misbehaving - As long as the wolves live. I cannot imagine our soul kin dying, nor do I wish for my sweet, young sisters to encounter such grief at an early age." the King groaned loudly and shook his head. Watching the tears of conviction and bravery well up in those crystal eyes of hers, innocent and pure, only drew flashbacks of Lyanna before his vision. He was done with all this. He needed those bloody drinks, and he needed his best friend urgently.

"Fine, fine. Chase off the wolves. I don't want to see them anymore." the King put his hand on Ned's shoulder and dragged him away from the tent - It was already late evening, and he was getting tired of being a King. 

"Sister, won't you let Lady Stark go already? It was no one's fault that the accident happened." Tyrion tried to pacify his sister, but it only made things worse.

"I don't need any words from your filthy liar tongue, Tyrion." her eyes almost bulged with hatred. "I will have someone punished for what happened to my son!" her voice boomed loudly - But another entered the tent. It was The Hound.

"The butcher's boy has been caught and killed, Your Grace." he spoke, but it did not please the Queen.

"Then, if it will offer any consolation for Her Grace, I will do as I have promised." Sandor was confused as to what the young lady was saying, or why she went on the ground, waiting obediently, as if she was lowering her collar to accept beheading.

"Clegane - Bring the red wolf over. Keep a tight hold on it. We don't want more accidents, do we?" the sneer she spit made the Hound simply conform to her words, albeit, not without his gaze lingering onto the red head who knelt with a stone face.

"Y/N, what are you doing? Are you insane? You are a lady! What will your Lord husband say when he sees those scars?!" Sansa cried out, sobbing, with Arya holding onto her.

"Luckily, I have no Lord husband, and even if I did, he should live with the idea that a Prince is not to be brought to harm by any means, under no circumstance - Those who do must face the consequences of their own actions." both Sansa's and Arya's blood froze in their veins - Those words weren't only to please the Queen, but to warn them. Y/N's eyes were fixated on them, and they held no emotion. Both girls would have preferred to get a beating or a scolding - But this... This was excruciatingly painful.

Clegane brought the large red wolf - And thankfully, most people ran from the tent. "Meleys, issa jorrāelagon." Tyrion realised it was High Valyrian she was speaking with. Most noble children were taught that language when they were children, albeit, few actually want to bother with it. No wonder the one naming her wolf over a creature that only responds to Valyrian-spoken orders would fluently speak the language of old. "Māzigon kesīr." the wolf tugged at the leash and went to sit besides her owner. Looking at the two, he realised how much they looked alike. Same hair, same eyes - And the invisible bond between those two was so evident, that it almost made his little heart break.

Sandor looked down as he felt a small, gentle hand over his - And he allowed the leash into her hand. Y/N's other arm was extended. Unlike the Imp, the Hound couldn't understand her broken words - yet the emotion behind them was enough. "Angogon." but the wolf looked at her owner and whimpered. "Meleys. Angogon." Tyrion knew that the girl was ordering her beloved wolf to bite her, and the animal was confused and afraid - How could she hurt the person she loved the most? The one she's supposed to protect?

Y/N sighed. "Arya, come over." Arya knew Y/N's secret - Y/N was a warg. In fact, she claimed all the siblings were wargs, and she tried to teach and help them actively bond with their wolves, yet it did not work as well as expected. Still, Arya went behind Y/N and held her shoulders, in case she lost composure and her body fell to the side. It only happened twice, but better safe than sorry. Y/N looked down, her hair covering her face - And now, she could see her own self, through her wolf's very eyes.

The graveyard silence of the tent was broken by the snarling sound of the wolf biting her owner's arm, chewing at it - Her snout was bloody, as well the arm and the ground. Blood stained the sleeve of the ripped dress. The wound would have hurt much worse if Y/N wasn't warged, but she stepped back and then sat down, as the wolf, before she went back into her own consciousness. She bit her lip hard, now feeling the full searing agony electrocuting her entire arm. She felt the iron on her tongue, but did not as much as whimper - Yet she could feel wetness wash her cheeks. Her body was reacting on its own to the agonizing pain afflicting her arm. "Avy jorrāelan, Meleys. Avy jorrāelan. Ao issi nykeā sȳz hāedar." Tyrion looked down, unable to see Y/N patting and praising her remorseful wolf, confused as she was - He could not bare to see the blood falling even still on the ground - The sweet declarations of love towards her companion were bittersweet enough as they were. Sometimes - In fact, very often - He truly hated how merciless his family was. 

"Dismissed." Cersei growled, dragging her son out of the tent. 

"You may raise, Lady Y/N." the girl nodded simply, trying to mask the trembling of her figure as she stood up. She must not have been aware at first, but from the anguish her body felt after the gnawing, the leash had fallen from her grasp. Were it not for Clegane holding tightly onto it, who knows what a worried wolf would have done to protect her master.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion." her voice was soft and barely audible, and her arm was trembling, yet she wasn't clutching on it. Instead, her good hand went to take ahold of the leash - But Clegane wasn't letting go. He was looking down at the little fox, unsure of what to do. He wasn't there to know the fate of the wolves, yet he desperately wanted to just let her go. Was this her own doing, or did the Queen order it? A normal lady would despair at having the tiniest flaw on her body, let alone her whole forearm mutilated in such a way. That won't perfectly heal, no matter what revolutionary, miracle medicine the Maesters give her. Lady Y/N looked absolutely pitiful, Sandor thought; she looked so small and broken, so vulnerable and afraid... This little fox cub was going to end up as food if she continues to offer up her fur to save her siblings - And dear as she may be for him, there is little a stupid guard dog can do to protect a fox kit from a whole pack of rabid, starving lions.

"You may release her." he did not let go, even feeling that small hand over his, trying to dig the leather leash from his strong grip. Somehow, even without seeing her face, covered by the curtain of carmine velvet hair, he could feel the rising rage bubbling in her heart. "LET HER GO, MUTT!" her head snapped up, and she snatched the leash, stepping away from him - The hard glare on her face shocked Clegane. From the mischievous little vixen, to a broken, bitter noble lady. Blood for blood, a wound for a wound. She protected her siblings in her detriment, but to what extent can her life stretch out and save everyone? He dearly hoped he wouldn't find out the answer - Those tears were enough to make him forget how to speak or even think straight. He hadn't realised how awful he felt, watching the broken porcelain doll before him - Nor how protective he suddenly felt over her.

"Let her go, Clegane. The wolves are her responsibility now." Sandor needn't be told twice, as he watched the girl get out of the tent. He stared down at the Imp, and marched out as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw, in the distance, the three Stark sisters and their father, surrounded by the three wolves. They looked like a proper family. Pity it had to be broken.

In life, there are only two types of families - Those who are dysfunctional to the core from the very beginning, his own life being the best example - And those perfect, loving families, much like the Starks, who end up torn apart by the ruthless cruelty of the former category. Bitter as he may be, Sandor Clegane wished not to harm any of those innocent fools, especially these little ladies who have been so perfectly safe from any worry and danger, and think life to be truly beautiful and worth living. Somehow, his heart was alit with a burning need of protecting their innocence - The innocence taken away from himself and his sister, the hope that was robbed from him all these years ago - All because of his own brother.

Far into the forest, Y/N, with a heavy heart and a pained arm, warged into her wolf again, and lead her two wolf sisters away from there. Better away than dead. Hopefully, they will find a pack to lead, or go back home. Either way, it was fine. But Y/N was done with her sisters for a while. Though she could not condemn them - Joffrey was a jerk, and his mother, even more so - Things were going to be trouble. "Daddy - Is there no way to return back to Winterfell?" Y/N asked, almost as if she was resigned with her imminent death.

"No, my dear... Unfortunately... No." Ned sighed and hugged his eldest daughter, kissing the top of her head. Neither of them imagined it would be one of their last tender father-daughter moments. "Let's get that wound looked after." but she stepped away.

"I'll wrap it myself. Please take care of these two. They need you more." Ned watched Y/N turn and walk away, before turning his sight to his youngest daughters, still shaken up. Not only was she afraid for them, due to their childish outbursts and lack of understanding of proper high court etiquette and political manners - He was even more afraid that Y/N would end up taking all the blame on herself, to protect her two foolish sisters. She changed so much after that marriage... She became so self-sacrificing that it pained him, as a father, for indirectly causing this shift; From an impishly playful and haughty little lady, to the wise woman with the bitter and nostalgic smile of an old crone weathered by countless winters.

Y/N went back to the river, away from the nosy people. The river was part of her inner peace, after all. Half a Tully of Riverrun, on the side of her mother, she always felt comfort in the sound of the rapid water breaking over the stones. When she wasn't seeking the calm of the Godswood, she would listen to the lullaby of the rivers running wild.

Oh, how she missed her mother - Her heart ached, looking towards the clean water, lost in thought. How they would go by the river and play barefoot in the water, or make flower crowns for the family together; How they would embroider pretty dresses, or recite old poems that Cat was taught by her own mother, and even her grandmother. She would tell her stories about her little misadventures and mischief with her sister, Lysa, who was now the Lady of the Eyrie, a castle high up into the mountains that made you feel as if you were floating up onto the fluffy clouds. And on the rarest occasions, Y/N would listen, with the widest grin on her face, about her romantic moments with her father. He may be a little clumsy when it comes to love and the hearts of women, but he was always gallant and attentive with her mother; They truly loved each other. Y/N didn't need the ballads and stories of beautiful maidens and brave knights falling in love flawlessly, at first sight - She wanted a caring and tender love story like that of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully; Flawed as it may be, at least it was real. She needn't the most charming or gallant man, nor a poet or a scribe - But a man who would protect her and treat her with such care, as if she was a frail little snowdrop amidst the snow.

Her reverie day-dreaming was broken, as the loud clanking of heavy armor approached her. Though it was now dark outside, as the night he found her in the Woods in Winterfell, the Hound's towering form appeared in front of her. "Hello, dog. Are you here to seek the apology that you rightfully deserve? Or, mayhaps either of the offended Graces wanted more revenge on the, to quote, 'stupid cunt', who humiliated the little, defenseless princeling?" that sharp bitterness would have been amusing, were it not for the implication. However, Sandor remained silent for a while. He went on one knee and took the girl's injured arm - Carefully as a crystal doll, and he washed it away, before wrapping it up. His touch was gentle as no one would expect, but the wound still burnt in agony, causing the maiden to instinctively attempt to remove her arm from the on-going pain with a soft whimper.

He did not apologise for causing her pain, but she needn't an apology for it anyway. Instead, it was her who apologised. "I hate you for killing an innocent boy." she said, out of the blue. "But a dog is a dog. Fiercely loyal until the very end. It was not for you to disobey." she continued. "Forgive me for insulting you. You did not deserve an insult - Lest of all, for doing your job." the man stared her in the eye, conflicted at what to say. Then, he saw the stray tear, possibly escaped because of the wound, and he took a rag from his pocket, wiping it away as gently as he could.

"No need to apologise to me, girl." he grumbled lowly. "You more than paid for whatever happened." she said nothing - But the way she looked at him was amusing - She wanted to strike him down where he stood. "I know what you're thinking. Don't. Say one wrong word and you might get your head put on a spike."

"Of course. I cannot trust a dog which is not loyal to me. Nor can I trust a wolf that is greener than me. And you wonder why I dislike speaking." the maiden scoffed, removing her arm from his hold once he finished wrapping it up. "Thank you - Ser." she emphasised the last word, knowing it would irritate him.

"I am no knight. I spit on them and their vows." the man spit on the ground.

"I know. That's why I taunted you." she retorted easily. "If you don't accept my apology, then that's fine. You hold 'Dog' as a compliment, rather than an insult. Smart. The connotation, however - Differs on who it is that calls you that. It might serve as a term of endearment for some."

"I like dogs better than knights... A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And the hound will look you straight in the face." perhaps it was a way of intimidating the girl, but Sandor leaned closer to the younger girl, his eyes dead set on her.

But she did not back down - Instead, she leaned forward, and she smirked like an enticing vixen. She was so close to his face - So close that he could feel her breath on his face; And those plump lips of hers, soft and beautiful, were tempting him so bad. "Before or after I'm dead?" Sandor wanted to reach his hands out and grab her face, smashing his lips against her own - Pink and wet, like a rose petal bathing in the morning dew. It was almost like she was begging him to kiss her.

"You have a death wish, little fox?" the man growled lowly, almost resembling a dog.

"No more than you do."

Their stay in King's Landing, albeit luxurious, and with enough maids to care for them, was awful. No matter what, the only reason they were still fine, was because their father was still alive, and with the uncanny influence as the Hand of the King. She could not imagine how stressed he was feeling every day he woke up and realised the corruption and injustice crawling through every corner of this God forsaken place.

Though she couldn't spend time with Clegane, being the Prince's sworn shield and constantly by his side - Tyrion was another story altogether. The witty little imp was great to spend the time with, so at least, whenever she was drinking and laughing with him, she felt as close to the word 'safe' as she could possibly feel in the capital city of Westeros. But Tyrion's word meant nothing, in front of the Queen or the Prince, so from how much could he protect her, before she gets her head on a spike, as the dog said?

The very first great festivity to be held in King's Landing was Joffrey's Name's Day Tourney - Many knights from all over Westeros have gathered forth, joining the jousting competition. Though from Winterfell, no knight was able to get too far down the brackets, they still fought valiantly, and were praised. Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gregor Clegane, Sandor's very own elder brother, went farthest into the competition. The charming lion even defeated Barristan the Bold, as their father called him - What a great and true knight the old one is!

Alas, during the semi-finals, Ser Loras was to fight The Mountain. The Knight of the Flowers went to gift Sansa a rose before doing a pretty courtesy in front of the King, who allowed the beginning of the match. Loras was riding a white, pristine clean, beautiful mare, and he was dressed in shining silver-like armor, making his radiating, prince-like handsomeness even more highlighted. Sansa's face was as red as the rose she was gifted, looking at the dashing young boy, old as Robb and Jon. On the other end of the court, dressed in all black, on a black stallion, The Mountain, towering over all, was fixing that ugly, yellow shield, with a single black dog painted on it.

It was a scary match, Y/N though, gripping instinctively the hilt of Dark Sister - It was a bad habit she had to break, whenever she was nervous. She was a lady, and she couldn't go around with a sword so leisurely anymore - Not in King's Landing. This was, at least, an exception, especially as she hid it with her cloak so well. At a tourney, everyone had a weapon! "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him." Sansa, afraid for the beautiful boy, clinged to both her father's and her sister's arms, her gaze fixed on the knight. A bit more, and she might have been forgetting how to breathe. "He's going to die!"

"Ser Loras rides well." Ned reassured his sweet girl.

"Daddy, if you were there, you could have defeated them all." Y/N grinned childishly at her two family members. Unfortunately, neither of them were paying attention.

As the trumpet sang, the two knight galloped towards one another - And to everyone's erupting glee, the feared Mountain toppled over from his horse, down on the ground, bringing down the fragile wooden fence with him. Y/N jolted to her feet - She smelt trouble - She looked back, and saw the Hound. He felt her gaze, and looked straight back. Though perfectly stoic, Y/N could almost feel even his nervousness. Sandor might be a dog, but Gregor as a whole damn mountain - Bigger, stronger, and far scarier. The man could see the anxiety surging through her veins - Was she afraid for the charming knight? Did she fall in love with him and his beauty, like all the other maidens watching? Still - Her gorgeous eyes were pooling with terror.

In an instant, she looked back at the court. "Daddy, the Mountain is going to kill Loras Tyrell." she found herself uttering in an eerie tone. Gregor picked up his sword and beheaded his own poor horse, while Loras was doing courtesies. It wasn't surprising for his brother, but the action startled even the otherwise level-headed Y/N, the dog noted. Everyone gasped, watching the huge man strike the knight from his horse, and even try to slash him, while he was on the ground - Luckily, he blocked it with a shield. That was no knight behaviour, and definitely not something to show during a sacred festivity.

Y/N felt her heart beating fast - On the ground, she did not see Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, the sweet, dashing boy from Highgarden; Not anymore. She saw Robb Stark, the young wolf. She saw Jon Snow, her shy brother. Her family. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" the foolish, reckless, absolutely idiotic girl jumped the protective fence from the stands and used Dark Sister to block a well-aimed blow to the boy's face. Clegane thought the girl had a death wish - Was she fucked in the head, to go against the bloody Mountain? Was she that desperately in love with that young boy that she'd give away her life, for his own? Regardless of the reason, even he couldn't help but worry for the foolish lady.

Her arms were trembling, and she couldn't hold her own against this outlandish brute strength, but at least she was happy to have spared the boy - Temporarily, at least. "YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING AND PRINCE JOFFREY - STOP THIS UNSIGHTLY BEHAVIOUR AT ONCE!" but the Mountain did not listen. He was deaf and blind to anything but his rage. "Loras, get up, now!" she spoke, stepping back and parrying one more of his blows. Y/N was sure her arms would fall off, and were it not for her sword being forged from Valyrian steel, she could have sworn it would break from his brute strength, and the barely healed wound on her forearm would spill over with blood and flesh and bits of bone all over the ground.

The third strike was the last, and she was on her back - For a split moment, she remembered how Bran defeated Tommen and sent him to the ground, struggling like a turtle on its shell. Seeing the man raise his longsword to strike somewhere between herself and Loras, she heard the boy call to her. "Duck!" and the two rolled away from the blow. 

Stupid girl, going out of her way to fight death himself. What the hell is in that empty head of hers? She goes out of her way to seduce him, and now, she's shielding another. Y/N and Loras looked like two children, dirty and playing in the sand, only to get bullied by the awful Mountain. Screw him and his stupid brain, and his stupid eroded heart and his stupid fucking morals. "LEAVE THEM BE!" a familiar, rough voice called out, and another man, wearing black, leapt from the stands to parry another swing from the Mountain. Sandor Clegane was shielding Lady Stark, who was on the ground. She looked up at his grand form, struggling to push his gargantuan brother away from the two idiots. Y/N and Loras dragged each other up quickly, scurried next to one another, defending themselves behind his shield and her sword, yet also watching the immaculate fight between the two brothers.

Whilst the Tyrell knight wanted to one day have the Hound's otherwordly sword skill; Y/N felt her heart go crazy with mad love. That man had no reason to go out of his way and face the worst man known to Westeros, and coincidently, his own worst fear - Yet, there he was, protecting her, and fighting off his mad brother. Y/N was striken dizzy with such an intense adoration for Sandor Clegane, like she's never thought possible.

Stupid Joffrey and everyone else only watched the altercation unfold - Were they all dumb? Were they perhaps too stunned by the dance of death? Or were they screaming, yet their shrieks were deaf to those in the ring? "STOP THIS MADNESS, IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" that, however, everyone heard, as Robert Baratheon rose from his throne and his voice roared and thundered throughout the place. The hound kneeled to bend his knee to the King while simultaneously dodging a fatal blow from his brother.

Y/N's hand was desperately clutching on her chest, trying to stop her beating heart from escaping her chest, while her other hand was shaking terribly, clasped around the hilt of her sword. The stupid Stark girl stole a glance at her father - He almost had collapsed from worry, but at least was now relieved she was unharmed. She will explain to him later, the reason for her absolute foolishness. Sansa, too, felt at ease, seeing no one die - Though the shock from the horse's brutal death still weighed heavy on her. She saw Gregor throw away his sword in disgust, and walk away. What a disgusting, unsightly creature. However, Sandor Clegane was his complete opposite. He was faithfully kneeling on one knee, his hands on the hilt of the sword impaled into the ground, and head was down, in respect and loyalty for his King. Y/N had never thought she would ever see someone like him in such a light - However, her heart beat faster, seeing him so humble. He was the only one who got out of his way to protect Loras, a literal child, against his own brother, the most feared Knight of Westeros.

Sandor Clegane was one of the only men that Y/N would call a true Knight.

Looking up, The Hound saw that he could rise - And so he did, yet his head was still hung. Though both young ones still in the ring had trembling legs like flowers in the spring breeze, they made their way towards the Knight who saved them. "I owe my life to you, Ser. And you, My Lady - Thank you to the both of you." though Y/N was too absorbed by shock to speak, Sandor simply spat in bitterness. He truly hated all this unnecessary attention brought to him. "I'm no Ser." Loras grabbed the Hound's hand and brought it up on the sky, declaring him the winner. Y/N smiled, and began clapping - The rest followed. The man, however, was glaring deeply at everyone. 

"Just accept the appreciation, dog." Sandor looked down at the girl, and he wanted to snark her - But that smile. That smile stopped him. It was sweet, and her eyes were sparkling. For a few seconds, he felt as though that dreamy and pure adoration was addressed to him. He loved that thought, be it real or not.

He hated seeing her afraid, like when her life was threatened by his own brother, and he hated seeing her angry, like during the Joffrey incident. He hated seeing her wounded, as with the wound on her arm, and he hated seeing her crying, having seen her cheeks wet with tears.

The dog loved, however, those witty one liners of hers, and the cunning philosophies she spoke of. He loved hearing her conversations with the Imp, although he got jealous, because they were always so clever and tricky. He loved seeing that smirk of hers, as she taunted or mocked him. And he adored that love she held for her family and how she nurtured them all with all her heart.

However, what Sandor Clegane loved, more than anything, was that genuine, innocent smile that. It was all for him. His dear little fox.

But now came the bad part of being the 'hero' as those foolish maidens would call him now. He had to participate in the farce of a tourney. 

Watching the girl take back her seat next to her sister and father, and them hugging her tightly - She seemed to have a guilty expression on her face - But they forgave her for making them worry. That was family. Loving and forgiving each other. Not what his brother did. Killing their father. Killing their sister. Melting half of his face in the brazier. 

Monster.

Sandor's first joust was against the King's own brother, Renly Baratheon, whom he easily defeated, and next, he had to fight the Queen's brother, Jaime Lannister for the semi-finals. A man came over to him with a basket full of flowers. He cursed him off, but the man insisted that he HAD to gift a woman the flower. If he wasn't so done with life, he would have shoved that rose down his nose, watching him bleed to death. But out of respect and loyalty for the King, he kept himself in check, begrudgingly snatching that stupid flower. It was blood red, but thorny. Sandor climbed on his dear horse, Stranger, and all the way to the stands, he absent-mindedly removed the thorns from its stem until he got in front of the beautiful Stark girl with red hair. He extended his hand over, but did not directly face her - Only from the corner of his eye, to get a feel of her feelings regarding his weird gesture. "Here, little fox. Tradition - Or whatever horse-shit some fool spat."

He felt the flower being slowly taken away from his hand, yet he did not, at first, see the demure, bashful expression on her face, nor that sweet blush. For what felt like an eternity, but were merely a few seconds, the girl did not speak - Thousands of fitting replies were running through her head. All of them, appropriate for any other person.

But Sandor Clegane was not just any other person. "Woof." the girl was struggling not to grin from ear to ear, amused beyond belief by her own sick sense of humour. The man, however, snapped his head at her and glared hard - Though his heart melted, watching that joyous innocence - And it was addressed his way. He barked, rough and raspy, before going to his end of the ring.

"Not exactly a prince charming..." Sansa looked skeptical, and slightly disgusted. She wished only the best for her sister - And the Hound was not the handsome knight she wanted Y/N to fall in love with. Clearly, in no way, that monster of a man could be gentle and caring with a noble lady, lest of all, Y/N - Right?

"He may not look as handsome as Loras, Sansa - But his heart is in the right place. More or less." the girl chuckled, watching the dog miraculously taking down the Lannister Lion. "I would choose him, over all knights across Westeros, and beyond." Sansa couldn't comprehend the weirdness of her statement; Perhaps she was still shaken up after all the insane things she did in the jousting court.

The final, however, did not take place, as Loras Tyrell yielded before the match could begin - He did not want to fight the man who saved his life - Thus, Sandor Clegane had won the Jousting Tourney held on the Name's Day of Prince Joffrey. The feast at night was what everyone was truly waiting for - But Arya refused to participate, and Sansa and Jeyne were hovering over the lemon cakes and gossiping about the pretty knights. Y/N had no babysitter job, so she went looking for Sandor. Half of her expected him to be drinking his victory away at the feast - The other, to stay by Joffrey's side. None were true. She found the man drinking all by himself, at the end of the feast, having growled and snarled away any drinking companion. 

Smirking to herself, Y/N nonchalantly stepped to the very end of the feast, and she stood in front of him. She hoped she would be towering over him, while he was sitting, the same way he always shades her with his height. Alas - He was far too tall, either way. "You have fought valiantly today, good Ser." the man growled in annoyance. 

"Must I bite you, to make you stop calling me that?" he seemed genuinely disgusted by the idea of being called a knight.

"O, my, Ser~. Court me first, before you speak of such indecent implications." the man snapped his head up, and looked straight into her beautiful eyes. His beard was wet from all the ale he spilled on himself while drinking his sorrows away.

"That is a very dangerous thing to say to a drunk man, little fox." the man warned, only to see the enigmatic grin on her face.

"I am saying it to you - Not to any drunk man." she giggled, a nasty impish grin on her face, watching him get riled up so easily. "Ever since I left the North, my sense of self-preservation has been completely depraved. Mayhaps I am in need of a loyal hound to protect me, when I cannot." he took a sharp inhale.

"You intentionally got yourself in front of my brother's sword. I'd say 'depraved' is too light a word. Nonexistent is a better fit." the girl looked away, a guilty smile on her face, before she sighed.

"Loras is the same age as Robb and Jon. I did not see Loras there. I saw Robb. I saw Jon." Sandor's heart dropped. The little fox wasn't in love with Loras - She was so madly protective over her younger brothers, that she ended up shielding another female's cubs. He thought all women were the same - Damsels in distress, afraid, frail and so on. But he was wrong. The little fox may be all that, but she's also fierce and with such a strong love for her family, that she would do anything. Now he felt guilty for thinking ill of her.

"I'm not saying what I did was not stupid. It was. If it were not for you, both myself and Loras would have died out there." she admitted, and the man was soberly attentive. "But my siblings are too innocent. They are still children. They did not see how awful the world can be. I want to protect them and that innocence of theirs, for as long as I can. I want to see them happy." she explained, taking out the rose and twirling it around her fingers. "Don't think me altruistic - I am doing it for myself. I live vicariously through them. My happiness comes from their happiness." she smiled bitterly, further confusing the dog. "You can call me all synonyms existent for the word - Stupid - And I will accept them. But that erases naught how strongly I feel about protecting my kin... And..." she bruskly turned in front of the man, and extended the flower intimately towards him. "That even though you cast away the title, you are one of the very few people, in a sea of knights, who deserves that title. And, whether it means anything to you or not, you have earned by deep respect and appreciation." the man was speechless for a while, but then he slapped away her hand. 

"What do you think a knight is for, girl? You think it's all taking favors from ladies and looking fine in gold plate? Knights are for killing." the man snarled at her, a look of self-hatred on his face. Drinking always made him even more of a bitter and eroded man than he already was.

"I think black suits you rather well - Although, I would want to see you in shining silver, or elegant gold." she did not let go of the rose. "Knights are for killing, yes, but today, the knight before me used his power to protect me."

"There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can't protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don't ever believe any different. Today, you should have died. You just got lucky. Same as that other lad. Woman, child, elderly or man - None of these matter, in the eyes of a killer." he reprimanded the girl harshly, yet she only seemed to smile at him - That smile was defiant of his words.

"I don't believe in Gods, nor altruism. I believe not in humanity, nor the genuine good of mankind. I have seen many, I have faced even more, yet there are far worse things out there, of which I would be terrified to witness." she spoke softly, stepping close towards him. "Yet when I saw you there, in front of me - Protecting me against that monster of a man..." her voice was much softer. "I felt safe."

Sandor, with his inebriated mind, was so, so close to just grabbing the girl and smashing his lips to hers - He wanted her so bad. He needed her, more than he needed air to breathe in his lungs. He did, however, grab her arm and brought her to sit on his knee - Yet he only damaged himself and his psyche further, as the imagery of the beautiful girl being flushed against his chest, was doing things to him. He really needed to go to a tavern and fuck some whores, and soon. "Are you done?"

"I want to give you the rose back." the man was confused. Surely, favour can't be returned. Was this her way of rejecting him? Of telling him that, even if she did love him, her noble status prohibited her from being with him? "Red doesn't look good on me, and roses are for fair maidens." her smile disappeared, and a solemn, nostalgic look took over. She looked devastated and anguished, in spite of the facade she tried to keep together.

"You are one." he saw her shake her head, smiling bitterly. 

"I am not." her reply was cold cut like a blade in winter - Though whose heart ached more, was uncertain. "Red roses are for fair maidens, destined to fall in love with a strong knight that will protect her." she said, getting up from his leg, placing the flower gently on the table in front of him. "You are one. But I am not. Love is not something that I am deserving of." he could not understand what she was saying. It was only gibberish and the ramblings of a silly girl. Still, she turned her back to him. "Good night, Sweet Sandor. I truly wish you all the best in the world. You are a fine man. Better than most." her silhouette was trembling softly. "You are the Knight that my young self dreamt of all her life." her voice held a melancholic vibrato; and she walked away, leaving the Hound all alone, as he's always been.

He wanted to think and understand what the hell had that all been about, yet no matter how much he tried to think, he failed at finding an answer. He never prided himself with being overly intelligent, perhaps that was the reason why he couldn't comprehend. He wasn't up to her mental capacity, like The Imp was, nor was he anywhere as wealthy or high in status. Or, even better - He was not as pretty as the Knight of the Flowers - After all, he was ugly, and disfigured. Not that she ever had any problem looking at him - Her gaze never shied away from him, and with that sweet smile from before, he even had... Hope, mayhaps. 

But it had all been for naught.

In his heart, however, he was unable to sever the bond he had between himself and the sweet girl whom he had lost forever.

She did not avoid him though, despite that smile never making its way to her face. She was deathly worried, every second of her existence. Sandor was as ruthless a beast as never before, and he cared little for anyone standing in his way, including her father's own men, whom he helped slaughter. Things were getting rougher. Eddard Stark was imprisoned, and the Stark girls were in grave danger. He worried for them, without realising. But what could he do, when King Baratheon is dead and Ned Stark, the single remaining man who wished for true justice, was sent to the gallows, forced to admit to a lie he never committed, in front of the whole city.

Up on the pedestal, he looked down at the dirty crowd. Beggars and whores and disgusting fleas. Next to him, he could see Sansa, all prettied up, and almost proud of the deal she had made with the Queen next to her. Y/N, however, was keeping King Joffrey deep under her gaze. Glaring at him. It looked as though she was suspecting something ill to be happening. Ilyn Payne was there too. And Littlefinger, and Maester Pycelle, and a few Golden Cloaks. He wanted to reach his hands out, put them on the girl's shoulders and keep her steady - He was afraid she might lash out and get herself killed somehow. The father looked at his two girls, before hanging his head and daring to confess whatever that was to confess. 

Joffrey spoke about Sansa begging him to send him to The Wall - And Cersei too. The Hound found out this way that Y/N, too, pleaded mercy for her father - It was no wonder, he thought. What other deal could you make with a mad child like Joffrey? Alas, their judgement and feelings were subject to mockery. "Ser Ilyn - Bring me his head!" as soon as the King ordered, Sandor's arms grabbed Y/N's body, immobilising her before she could throw herself out there, to die with her father. "LET ME GO, YOU STUPID DOG!" her insults were desperate, but the words did not hurt him. Her pain did. It stuck the blade deep in his heart, and then twisted it around hard. "DADDY! DADDY, NO! STOP -- DON'T DO IT! DON'T KILL HIM! DADDY!" she was not the cunning and enigmatic little fox that was perfectly calm, collected and calculated. That was a little girl, crying for her father. She was a child in his arms, wriggling and struggling to slip from his grasp, but no matter how close she was to getting out, he grabbed her again and brought her to his chest. 

"Don't look, Y/N. Don't look." but she was far too desperate, and when the the longsword was brought down, in one swing, Eddard Stark's head rolled to the ground. Y/N stopped moving - Perhaps, she even stopped breathing - And she fell lax, only the Hound's arms holding him. "No." she was heard by no one, except the dog, who held her tightly. "Y/N - Y/N, look at me." he tried to turn her around, his hands on her face - But his heart stopped, seeing her face, sheer agony and hopelessness in her dead eyes, and her face drenched with tears. One arm was securely holding her body up, wrapped around her waist, for she held no more strength for once; And the other hand was gently holding the back of her head, his fingers through that shiny scarlet hair of hers - As scarlet as the blood of her father, running in thin ribbons down the pedestal.

"He's dead, Sandor. He's dead. What's the point anymore?" he was at a loss of words. How was he to comfort a girl, after she just watched her beloved father get killed, in front of the whole King's Landing - All because of the capricious nature of the boy king?

"He died, for you and your sisters to live. That's the point. Live. For his sake. For the little bird's sake. She needs you." the quivering of her lip and the way she tried to bite down roughly on it did not stop her body from shaking from the sobs. She knew, better than anyone, the torture she was going to face in the many, many days to come. 

"Everyone needs me, Sandor, and they have me - But who do I have?" her question was so desperately heart breaking, that despite his better knowledge, he found himself blurting an answer he never thought would come out of his filthy mouth. A statement that only made the little fox start sobbing openly, burying herself in his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms around her broken body.

"You have me."

The lions were ready to rip apart the young wolf pups, and the dog held no real power to protect either of them. At least, Sandor thought, Y/N might feel better, knowing that the youngest one had escaped. Maybe, only. The blatant mocking and disrespect could simply be ignored, The Hound thought. Even if Joffrey made fun of Eddark Stark in front of the girls. They looked dead, but at the same time, vengeful. He was afraid either of them might act up stupidly.

One day, he accompanied the King on the bridge, where he wanted to admire the heads propped on lances, serving as a grim reminder for all traitors. He taunted Sansa - And what a fool the little bird was, she wanted to push the bratty King off the bridge, to his death. While very satisfying, Y/N would go insane, if she were to witness her own sister's death as well. Perhaps he had called the sisters separately to mock their father, reveling in their raw emotions? Was humiliating them and bringing them such pain, his pleasure? Definitely.

Thus, there she stood, tall and proud, as if nothing bad had ever happened to her in her life. She had easily masked over her pain. Now, he wondered - His mind flew to that night, after the Tourney - What awful things could she have experienced, that she claimed to not be deserving of love? More, to be able to hide away her true feelings so well? 

He watched Y/N looking up at her father's head - It almost looked alive, she thought. Sleeping. She didn't need Meryn Trant to force her to look at him. She was content on her own. No matter how much he was taunting her, she did not speak. Even if she did spare him a glance, it was defiant, and deep. Piercing, like a hawk staring at its prey. When he smiled, she knew he was mocking her. “Your brother is a traitor too, you know. Just like your father. And so are you and your sister.” he turned Septa Mordane’s head around. “I remember your brother from Winterfell. My dog called him the lord of the wooden sword. Didn’t you, dog? Made fun of how he needed a girl to protect him.”

"Did I?" the Hound replied. "I don't recall." Y/N refused to even spare him a glance. In fact, she did not react at all. She remained unmoved as a statue. His words came back to literally bite him - And hard.

It angered the King that she wasn't afraid of him. How dare she? A stupid little cunt, defying him? Outrageous! "Ser Trant, teach this traitorous wench what happens when she defies my orders." without any hesitation, Meryn Trant stepped almost perfectly between her and Sandor, and with those metal gauntlets, he struck her - Once, and then twice. She did not let out a single whimper, nor sound. A single, thin river of blood went down her chin, from her busted lip. "Still don't want to speak to me? Go on. Ser Trant, continue until she apologises for defying me." Sandor was disgusted with the white cloak before him, who dared call himself a 'Knight', using all his force into slapping a woman. Though, he shouldn't be one to judge - A member of the famed Kingsguard, was watching an innocent person getting beaten up, and he did not stop it. A real dog would never watch the person he is loyal to, getting hurt, and act naught. 

He watched Y/N lose balance from the force behind one of the blows, and she fell to the ground, a single gasp of surprise being heard. Seeing Trant ready to strike her head again, he rushed to grab his hand. "She spoke. You're getting His Grace's schedule behind." Meryn snatched away the hand from the Hound's, and went to sit next to the King.

"Huh. I suppose you're right, dog. I was enjoying myself so much, watching a traitor cunt getting the treatment she deserves, that I have forgotten the course of time." the King marched past her, only to stop. "Ah, before I forget - Mother says that we have to marry you off soon. I'll think of someone really nice for you. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I was thinking that you might be missing home - Perchance, the bastard son of Lord Bolton would make a good match. Betray your brother even. Or... Some stinky, homeless old man from the sewers of Fleas Bottom would be far more fitting?" the King laughed tauntingly, marching towards the Throne room, with Meryn Trant behind him.

Sandor watched the girl get up, and gaze fondly at the high drop - Pondering, for a small amount of time, the pros and cons of throwing herself and ending things already. The man took out a rag from his pocket and reached out to dab away the blood welling from the various shallow cuts made on her face - But it was slapped away, and she stepped back. "So much for protecting me." she muttered monotonously, walking past him, no doubt back to her room, where she had locked herself into.

He wanted to go over to her room, but she never answered the knocks. He wanted to grab her face again and make her look at him - To tell her - How in the world could he go against the King's word? It would get them both killed - It won't help anyone. He can protect her from anyone, but her greatest enemy - The Lion. Not even the new Hand of the King, Tyrion, who was her friend, could save her. The one time he had barged into her chambers, he had seen her drinking with the Imp, and upon questioning, he simply came up with a petty excuse, and left.

Why did she want to speak to the Imp, and not to him? Did she truly hate him so? 

Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't the only one drinking her sorrows away - Like most people in King's Landing, Y/N, also, fell pray to the vice brought upon by Tyrion and his sweet wine from Highgarden. She knew she was wrong, lashing out at Sandor for not protecting her, and even more wrong for not apologising. She was hurt then, and continued to get even worse - Yet that wasn't even a proper excuse. Some day, she will bribe the dog into her chambers, with the smell of luxury alcohol, and a much needed apology.

Days later, he stood next to the throne, protecting the King. An audience around. Something was going to happen. To his dread, there she was again, walking slow, and with her head up. The make up on her face made wonders in covering the fresh, healing wounds on her face, yet her beauty still looked busted. She was made to kneel on the ground and look up at the King, who held a crossbow at ready, aimed at her. He could only look down at her. He could see there was no fight in her eyes. She looked absolutely dead. Void. One of the King's relatives began to tell her of the crimes her brother seemingly committed - Obviously, all of them exaggerated beyond belief. "Killing you would send your brother a message. He could not protect the one that protected him. I am to marry Sansa, you know? But you? You have no value to me." the King was smirking and having so much fun. "But my mother insists on keeping you and marrying you off to someone. Get up." but before the King put the crossbow away, much to everyone's shock, he fired it at the lady.

Sandor himself, as well as everyone present, flinched in shock at the unexpected occurrence - While the ladies screeched or gasped, and the guards all oh'ed, the Hound found himself unable to breathe. The crossbow arrow had precisely fired past Y/N's ear, so very close to grazing her temple, and it bounced a few feet behind her, on the ground. Few war-hardened could stand still after getting so close to death; Y/N herself, though fighting her shaking body, her shallow breaths, the picked up heartbeat and her trembling lip. She was doing a wonderful job, getting over her terror.

Sandor could almost feel himself sighing in relief - Only internally, of course. He was so happy she was alive after that bullshit. She deserved better than all this shit happening to her. "Are you not going to thank me for sparing you? I did not have the same mercy with your father." she said nothing. "If you insist on being a mute, perhaps I might as well cut your tongue off. You have no use for it, anyway." his hand was up, and was ready to give the order - She had finally spoken. 

"I am undeserving of your mercy, Your Grace. I have nothing to thank, nor be regretful of. The one who deserved your mercy was my father. As you so brilliantly spoketh, I have no value in this greater political game. Whatever it is that you have in plan for me, I will simply accept and not object." the King was ready to take offense - But the ending made him smirk.

"You are saying you're ready to accept any man to be your husband, yes?" the girl did not speak. "If you're so eager to serve - Then serve my dog!" the King's laugh echoed through the place. 

"But... Your Grace... The Hound is a white cloak. He swore an oath." one man warned the King, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care about oaths. My dog has been serving me loyally for years, hasn't he? Doesn't he deserve to be satisfied by a pretty noble lady? Whenever he wants, however he wants - Without needing to stoop so low and crawl in some common tavern whore's bed?" no one could speak a word - Everything the King was saying was madness - A kind of madness that should never be spoken in the holy throne room. "You know, Y/N... Ser Sandor Clegane here is renowned throughout the Realm for how ruthless he is. I am sure you'll serve as a good chewing toy for him. At least, until he's lost interest in you. All dogs gets bored of their broken toys, sooner or later." neither of the two involved could speak. 

For one, Y/N felt her mind spin indefinitely. Marriage? Again? She had hoped to escape this fate - Alas, with the Lannisters on her back, she had no way of running away. She did not mind - It was Sandor. Though he could not protect her, at least she knew, he had a good heart... Even if it was hidden, buried very, very deep inside that guarded chest of his. 

The Hound, however, was nervous - He did not feel often this emotion, but he truly did now. Not only would he have to marry the woman he had grown so fond with - But he would put her in even more danger, because of it. Not that he had any say in it, for the matter. At least it wasn't some old and sleazy old shit lord who would beat her up or what not. With him, at least she was safe. She was not going to see him.

"Thank you for your blessing, Your Grace." Sandor suddenly heard the little fox speak - A voice soft and forced, and she gave a short courtesy bow.

"Now that we've got that settled - I was wondering - Perhaps The Hound should be the one to make a statement. First off, he should discipline his future Lady Wife into not defying her King so much. Secondly, we need to make a point - To her traitorous brother." and here came the trouble that Sandor feared. "Go on, dog. Don't make me say it twice." but Sandor felt reticent - His own legs were refusing to move - How could he actively harm the person he was supposed to protect. "You'll regret it, dog. Ser Trant - You do it. But leave her face - She has to be pretty for the wedding day... And the bedding ceremony." she wanted to take out a dagger and carve her own heart out, just hearing such a thing.

Meryn Trant, unlike Clegane, did not hesitate. He marched, once again, in front of the girl, and with a tightly clenched fist, he punched the girl's gut, cutting out the air from her lungs. As she instinctively stepped back, he took out his sword and used it to hit the girl's leg, making her stumble. Sheathing it back, the knight roughly brought her up, before landing another hit - And another, and another. All of them with such intensity that Y/N lost count. "ENOUGH." Y/N heard the Hound rasp. The sound of metal clinking was approaching.

"Ah, finally ready to join the show? Hit her until I've grown bored." the King was laid back on the throne. For once, Sandor wanted to rip his head off - Looking down at the small, frail girl that he wanted to hold in his arms and protect. She looked even smaller than before, and even more vulnerable.

"Forgive me, Y/N." the girl knew that he chose to do it himself, rather than have that hateful man use all his strength to cause her harm - Alas, she wasn't sure whether the Hound knew or not, the passive strength which he possessed.

"Get it over with." she muttered - And though she was not prepared for the blow, the strikes from the man were just as painful as the ones from that awful man before. She wanted to cry from the pain, but she couldn't give anyone the satisfaction. Soon, she lost count of all the hits that were going to paint her body in all sorts of colours - But some time soon, at least - It will all be over. 

"Ser Meryn - I think Lady Y/N is overdressed. Don't you want to make a pretty gift for your fellow white cloak, and unburden his future lady wife for him?" Sandor wanted to bash his skull against the nearest wall, watching the sadistic grin of Trant as he got behind his Y/N and ripped the whole back of her dress for the audience to see - In front, the fabric was toppling over, and she could only hold it with her hands, so it would not expose the corset and her skin. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't even look at the girl. Her soft whimper of fear and shame drove him crazy. How much more before someone finally stopped this? "Come on, dog! I have given you a gift - It is unwrapped, all for you to claim! Go ahead, it's all yours!" Sandor, for the first time in his life, was praying - Praying that someone would finally step in and put a stopper to this idiocy.

The saving grace did come - Clegane never expected to be grateful to the Imp - Alas, it was him to whom he should light a thankful candle at the Sept later on. "WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!" his powerful voice boomed, as he stomped all the way to Y/N. "Clegane. Trant. What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?!" the dwarf glared at the two white cloaks. 

"The kind who serves his King - Imp!" Meryn spat at the Hand of the King. Sandor did no utter a single word. 

"Easy, now. We don't want to get blood all over that pretty cloak." the man accompanying Tyrion mocked the ser.

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with!" at once, Sandor ripped that stupid white cloak and carefully wrapped it all around her form, holding her close to his chest. He never wanted to let go of her. She was forever trapped in his arms.

"She is your soon-to-be sister-in-law. Have you no regard to her honour?!" Tyrion reprimanded his nephew. 

"I was punishing her! Besides - She's The Hound's future wife! He can do whatever he wants with her!" Sandor refused to listen to any of the witty threats that the Imp threw to the King - Even the quarrel about the marriage. He only realised that he existed again, once he went to their side. Y/N turned her head slightly, and nodded. "Thank you, Tyrion." it was small and sincere, and only for the two men to hear. The Lannister nodded back, appalled by the situation.

"I apologise for my nephew's behaviour. Clegane, escort Lady Y/N back to her room." though Y/N turned around to walk on her own, Sandor picked her up with ease - She looked like a child, wrapped like a cocoon in her own blankets. It would have been a romantic scene, were it not for what happened a little ago. 

The walk to her room was silent as a lake. None spoke a single word. He placed her gently on her bed, and with one last look, he turned to leave. "Are you leaving already?" the man stopped in his tracks, yet did not turn. "It wasn't as bad as when he did it. Thank you." somehow, that pissed the man off more - He wasn't angry at her, but at himself.

"Why the hell are you thanking me for beating you up?" his voice was more like a dog's growl. Angry. Not only that he was forced to lay his hand of his woman, but also because she was thanking him for being gentle. Fucking outrageous.

"A small price to pay for being on the wrong side of a war. I cannot ask you to compromise your life, for a failed attempt at protecting me." her humble understanding sent him into a rage. "And... I hadn't had the chance to apologise for lashing at you back then. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I did - And for that, I am truly sorry. I deserved what happened today."

"If you want death, go throw yourself off the bridge. I won't stop you. But don't bullshit me with that selfless act - It doesn't impress me." she didn't even flinch from his risen tone.

"Joffrey said our wedding is next week. Are you going to wear festive clothing?" she gave a weak smile.

"I did not hit you in the head - Why are you babbling?" he asked, watching the girl fumble with the cloak.

"I am fine with anything. As long as it is you. I meant what I said that night. I suppose even my fears and insecurities, I must face and accept." she spoke softly. "You have secrets, as well as I - Yet neither of them were spoken. I... Am willing to... If so are you." she must be referring to their past, Sandor realised. He pondered over - He couldn't stay much for the day - He still had that little cunt to serve. The wedding night could, however, serve as a perfect pretext for drunk story telling.

"Fine. But I bring the drinks. I don't drink sweet mead for women." he grumbled, ready to exit the room. "Don't leave the room without me." and he left. 

A week went by past, and Sandor found himself, disgusted, in the middle of the Sept. Sandor Clegane was getting married. What a fucking sick joke. He looked down, from the stairs of the Sept, at the ridiculous crowd. And there she stood, led by the King - His beautiful wife. She was dressed in a beautiful dress of pure gold - She looked like the Sun - Or like the fire itself, with her long hair, going down her shoulders in crimson waves.

But she didn't smile. Not even the littlest bit. Even when looking up into his own, dark eyes, Sandor could only see sorrow and pity.

She had the grey Stark cape. The Septon spoke whatever gibberish these old people of so called faith did, before he heard that he may cloak the bride and 'Bring her under his protection'. Bullshit. If he could, he would fight the whole realm - Yet he cannot. That means he cannot properly protect her.

Y/N turned her back to him took her hair away from her back, making it easier for him to fumble with the Stark cape... And put the Clegane one. It fit better - Yellow, Gold, same thing.

Nah, it wasn't - Not even he could say that the cheap yellow of Clegane could outshine the gorgeous gold of her dress. Long, and with long sleeves that covered her arms, yet her hands were covered in jewellery - As well as her neck, ears and hair. She was a jewel herself.

But she hated yellow.

Still, he was forced to put that cloak over her shoulders - It was so large over her form. Yellow did not make her happy.

At last, the septon continued the ceremony, and it ended even sooner. With the cloak thus removed permanently, the two went to the feast that was to last until well into the evening. They sat at the main table, only the two of them - But she did not eat. He couldn't either. Instead, he downed drink after drink, while she sat there, unmoving. He could see the look of sorry on the Imp's face - As if he was apologising to her for allowing things to get so bad, so easily. Her little sister was hiding in some corner, afraid for her own fate. She had never been to a wedding, had no idea what could happen. She was far too little to properly attend her sister's wedding, so she does not know its horrors, nor of the shameful bedding ceremony.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the growing desperation inside his bride's heart. Finally, she reached for the sweetest summerwine, and she drank it faster than even he. Was she willingly getting drunk, to escape the humiliation? Smart move. Painful, but smart.

The longer they stood there, the more he could see Y/N checking the time of day. The more it got darker outside, the more fidgety she would get. "What are you so afraid of?" he turned his head to her - She seemed genuinely shocked to hear that question.

"Do you have any idea how absolutely humiliating that... That THING is, for a woman?" she was perplex, but Sandor was clueless. "You... You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" now, the shock was greater.

"If you'd stop speaking so damn cryptic, I might know, little fox." he downed another ale, clearly left in the dark to her fears.

"The... The be-..." he never heard her stutter, nor was she afraid when she was being beaten or threatened. Now, she was horrified.

"THE BEDDING CEREMONY!" Joffrey's voice greatly overshowed her own - Sandor heard the girl curse and freeze, for the first time since they've known themselves. The same word, repeatedly. She glanced down, almost as if she wanted to hide forever under the table.

Clegane, too, cursed himself - How could he forget that fucking stupid tradition, of all things? He just wanted to get this stupid fucking wedding over with, and keep Y/N forever in her fox cage, away from harm. "No ceremony." came the growl of the Hound, watching Y/N get dragged away by the King. She was petrified.

"We must respect traditions, dog." Joffrey laughed merrily. "Come, everyone! Unburden her, pick her up, and carry her to her wedding bed! Get rid of her gown - She won't be needing it any longer!" Clegane watched as his bride snatched her hand away from the King's, and hugged herself. She looked left and right, for predators. She wasn't a little fox anymore. She was a scared little fawn, begging for help.

"The groom said he doesn't want to partake in the ceremony. Let him have it." Tyrion spoke up, but the King's word is law.

"The dog is loyal to me, uncle. If I tell him to fuck his bride right here, he will do so without question. Don't make me order him so. Or maybe I should?" the little Imp tried to intervene again, but the King pushed him aside. "Ladies - Attend to my dog. They say he's well-gifted down there." the King laughed harder, watching the women giggle and surround the Hound, only for him to aggressively growl at them and scare them away.

"There will be no bedding ceremony, Your Grace." Sandor's voice was more clear now - The King did not have it. Though Joffrey feared his dog to a certain degree, he knew he couldn't go against his direct order.

"There WILL be, if I say so." with a simple exchange of looks, Sandor understood the gravity of the situation. He arose from his seat, aggravated, as soon as he saw some of the men praying on Y/N, and even daring to ruin that dress from her body. Thankfully, she wasn't uncovered, or he'd have stomped them alive. Instead, he swatted them away like flies, and he picked the girl up, stepping in front of the King.

"No. Ceremony." the dog's snarl sent a shiver down the King's spine, watching his personal guard carry his wife away from the venue, and back to her own room. Once again, no word spoken - Though her trembling was shaking his arms, and she was visibly distraught by what had happened. 

Perfectly mimicking what happened a week prior, Y/N was placed on the bed, and Sandor remained on his feet. "Go ahead, change in your sleeping clothes. I'm leaving." the man spoke, ready to turn around and exit - Only to get his arm grabbed, and pulled back. 

"Don't go." she said. "Stay. Please." she spoke in that sweet voice of hers, as she guided him on the bed. Kneeling behind him, her slender arms wrapped around him, and her forehead rested between his shoulder blades. "I'm afraid."

"No one would dare hurt you, now that you're under my protection." not even he did truly believe those words.

"Then... You want to leave?" she sounded so broken and meek, as if it wasn't her.

"A little ago, you were afraid of the ceremony. You want me to fuck you now?" her fingers gripped his clothing tighter. "I won't bother you. I'm going to the tavern. Drink and fuck the night away or something."

"Already going to other women?" she muttered lowly.

"I ask again - Do you want me to fuck you?" he was met with silence. "That's right. You don't." he spat bitterly. "No woman in her right mind would want to fuck a disfigured, ugly monster of a man like me, without being paid well - Let alone marry one."

"That's not true." she retorted, offended. "That's not the truth at all."

"Then what is the truth? If you want to deprive me of getting my dick sucked, then at least give me a good reason." the girl thought a bit, before she spoke. Though she didn't appreciate the vulgar tone, even she couldn't deny how her heart yearned for him strongly.

"Reputation might matter little to you - But it could be my death. What do you think is worse - Knowing that the King's dog had his way with the Stark heiress, who was his wife - Or that he left her on their wedding night, to sleep with common women in a cheap tavern." she had a point - Sort of. 

"You're right. I don't care about a reputation, and neither should you." she was silent again, for a longer time. "If you don't have a real reason, I'm leaving." he was ready to get up, but her hold on him was far greater. 

"I don't want you to spend the night with anyone else but me." his breath was cut off from that bold statement. "I... I've been wishing to say this to you, since that time you bandaged my wound by the river. I've been falling in love with you progressively ever since." her voice sounded ragged and ashamed - Humiliated to admit she was in love. "You are the only man I ever loved." were it not for his keen hearing, he wouldn't have heard her last whispering.

"How many times must I tell you not to say such words to a drunk man? Do you have any idea the power you hold, looking like that - Your dress is half ripped off, and you think you're safe with me?" in an instant, Y/N found herself laying on her back, her wrists pinned to the bed, and his hair tickling her face. But the man saw clear anxiety gleaming into her fearful eyes, and tried to rip himself off from her - She stopped him. "I thought I didn't scare you. You can't even look me in the face anymore. Next time you lie to me, at least make it more credible."

"I was married once." she blurted out - Sandor frowned his brows, inching backward. "I was. I was -- I was married once. A while ago." Clegane looked at her, and saw a broken woman, hurt countless times. "Maybe it sounds petty - It's no different than things that many other women go through. I went through this humiliating... Thing once. It wasn't fun. It wasn't... Anything good. None of it was." she spoke, slowly pushing herself in a sitting position, and although she looked at Sandor, she looked... Timid. "I didn't last long. I wanted to divorce. I was not allowed to. I killed him." the coldness with which she spoke made the hurt even more transparent. "Only dad knew the truth. I never told anyone else. It was a burden on him - But he did it for me. He felt responsible. Poor man." she muttered softly. "I meant it when I said you were a good man, Sandor. I feel... Lucky, even - To say that, out of all the possible men in Westeros, it is you, that I married. I was really, really lucky. Joffrey does not know the man you are." though she lacked coherency, her words were hitting his weak spot. "I never felt safe since then. I wanted to just rot away, alone, in the safety of my home, surrounded by my family. I would become an old crone that teaches young girls how to embroider. It was fine." she said, making a small pause. "But with you... I was..." the last word, the man grunted himself. 

"Safe." she nodded.

"I never felt safe with a man that wasn't my family." her confession made Sandor's mind and heart go crazy.

Sandor got off the bed. "I'll go get booze." the girl stopped him. To his surprise, the girl hopped off the bed and he comically saw her struggling to move a large shelf - Behind it, a whole alcohol cabinet was revealed. 

"You have free access to my secret alcohol stash. Only the best ale and wine. Courtesy of Tyrion Lannister." met with a sheepish smile, Sandor barked a laugh, and took away all the bottles and put them around the night stands. Easily moving the shelf back in its place, he motioned for the girl to get dressed and get back in bed.

But seeing Y/N dressed in an almost sheer-white nightgown proved another challenge for the Hound. Her body looked perfect, her silhouette, though barely visible, was highlighted into the dim light of the candle, as she sat there, leisurely, with a golden goblet into her hand, sipping whatever sweet summer wine she had from Highgarden. Mostly, she told him about good memories she had of her family, with her parents, her brothers, her wolves. She looked genuinely happy. Sandor wanted to make her happy for her entire life. Somehow, he had to get her out of here. There was no way a flower of the North was going to survive the scorching heat and the deathly stink of the South. She would wilt.

Unexpectedly, Sandor spoke laso. "I was a mere child. I loved knights - Foolishly deluded myself, just like your little bird of a sister did. A wood carver came by our house. Gave my brother a toy knight - It had joints and it could move, thanks to the strings. I wanted that toy - Gregor didn't care of it. But he did not want to share. Instead, he grabbed my head and he pressed me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop." Y/N's eyes were wide and her jaw agape. "He killed our sister. Then, our father. All the inheritance was to fall into his hands. I run away and swore servitude to the Lannisters the very same day. I was just a squire back then - But at least I realised that all oaths are just that - Horseshit." was it the first time that Sandor ever told his past to anyone? He wasn't sure, not did he care.

"I hope your child self feels some comfort, knowing that your present self became the most honorable knight there is." the man scoffed, with bitter annoyance. 

"Your pretty words won't help me, little fox." he spoke. "I want to fuck you more than a little ago, all the same. Just because I can control myself, doesn't mean my thoughts aren't lingering." she wasn't threatened - Instead, she chuckled.

"It would be rather awkward if mine own husband thought little of me." she admitted, a half-amused smile on her face. "Besides - It is our actions that define us, not our words. With the amount of swearing you do, you could be champion - Alas, your heart is real. And I can feel it being genuine to me all the same." Y/N felt his hands on either side of her legs, and they were trailing up her soft skin, until they reached her thighs - Sandor was well between her legs, fully clothed, while Y/N could only blush - She then felt herself being pulled towards him, her head resting comfortably on the pillow.

"I know things that those fancy, pretty lord don't even dream of doing to their ladies. So shameful that even a whore would blush like a maiden. I can make you mewl mine name through the night, and people through the realm would wonder what happened." the Hound rasped from above, his face so dangerously close to hers, drinking in the dazed look she had, all flushed from the dirty words he spoke. "So stop tempting me with that pretty mouth of yours, or I will do so many sinful things to you that the Sept will explode - And I will not regret any little thing." and he said all that, kneeling comfortably between her legs, prowling over her petite body. She's never felt her heart beating so fast, in anticipation. Maybe it was her inebriated brain, or just him - She wanted him more than she needed water to drink - But she couldn't possibly voice something so embarrassing.

Instead, before she could even react, he felt the man's hands going up her body, until they reached her upper back - And he lay his head on her chest. And he started snoring softly.

Y/N was completely bewildered, tried calling out his name - He was fast asleep. "Seven Hells." the girl muttered under her breath. "Sandor, I'm cold. At least put the blanket over." no response. "You're kinda heavy." still, his weight on her body, as well as his arms wrapped around her gave her comfort and a sense of safety. "I'm still cold thought." he definitely was in a very deep sleep. "Damn it."

No matter how much she wished for for sleep - She couldn't. The heavy form of her husband was weighting on her, the pressure, uncomfortable. She could only look out of the window, in search for the moon, hoping it would move already. To pass the time, she warged, linking her mind to her darling Meleys's. She saw her as the protector of the pack - The leader seemed to be Nymeria. Lady was seeking comfort from Meleys, always glued to her side. The sweet sister wolves were protecting one another, as they should have. Y/N was content with that knowledge, although, she would have hoped they were back in Winterfell, or maybe even aiding Robb with his war. Grey Wind was always the leader, back home. She wondered now how Summer and Shaggydog were doing, protective over their sweet boys, just like their loving lady mother. Alas, Ghost was up there, at the Wall, with Jon - Will she ever see her brother again? She dearly hoped she would. Jon was always so nice - A true brother to his siblings. Robb saw him as a true brother, and Arya, especially, was so fond of him. Bastard or not, he was still their brother - And she was protective of her kin.

Y/N was forcefully awoken from her dream-like state, and going back into her own consciousness, she was met with the kind yet dazed dark eyes of The Hound. He looked down at her - And then even further down - Before meeting her face again. "Slept well, Lord husband?" the vixen teased him.

"Best sleep of my life." he muttered, rolling on the side of the bed. Y/N felt now, again, the sweet feeling of breathing.

"At least one of us slept." she chuckled weakly. "You're damn heavy." she explained, once he frowned, questioning. "And you didn't give me the blanket."

"I'm warm enough for the both of us." he muttered begrudgingly.

"It wasn't all bad though." she hummed, sitting up on the bed. "I at least had good company and no fear creeping on me. That beats the cold by far - Not to mention - I had enough time to see what Meleys was doing." Y/N grinned down at the man.

"You were dreaming, yet you say you did not sleep. You're so full of shit." but the girl's mischievous smirk begged to differ.

"You simply are unaware of the magic that a child of the North possesses, so no need to call me a hypocrite." she retorted hastily.

"Whatever, girl. I have duties to attend to. Go on, playing with your pups in your dreams." the man gruffed, raising from the bed. He didn't bother even looking in the mirror to fix his disheveled look. He would have to return to his room and dorn the white cloak either way.

Before he left - The door wide open - He heard her speak. "Some day, I shall hold you to your promise." Sandor looked back, unaware of the promise of a drunk man - Yet that cheeky grin spoke a thousand words.

"You're as much of a fairy as I am, little fox." the man barked in amusement, closing the door behind him. She liked keeping him on the edge, it seemed. What a lass. Flashbacks of last night came forth - Y/N, all beautiful, in that dress of hers, hair done and make up pretty - Yet looking like an alluring mess with her outfit ripped as she lay down on the bed, below him. That look in her eyes - The innocent yet wanting look of an unaware lady with great promises from her lord - And those fingers gripping into his clothes. The feeling of her body flushed against him -

Sandor truly needed to find a way to release this tension on his body, otherwise, she'll drive him crazy and completely unable to even remember his name. He always wore gloves - But that night, he did not. He could feel that skin of hers. He never lay with a noble lady - Were all of them like this? Not even Littlefinger's whores were like this, and they were luxury whores. Those slender legs, that tiny waist, her feather weight - How easy it was for him to simply hoist her up with a single hand and do so many things to her. He recalled all the shameful things that he threatened her with - 

He didn't want to stop at simple, innocent touches. He wanted to hide his head under that sheer nightgown of hers and hold tightly onto her hips. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and kiss her thighs - And further up, when he's pleasured her once, as he's heard that sweet melody of hers, he will tower over her, unburdening her of the dress, and he will tease her like she's done to him, one hand caressing her face dearly, making her look up at him as his fingers become all wet in her heat - And then --

Sandor stopped and bashed his head against the wall, growling at himself for the far too long moment of weakness - And he hurried to his chambers to change into his armor, to guard that bratty King - But how could his head be focused on standing still and at ready next to the King, when his mind is caught in that wretched imagery of his lady wife?

Days passed and so did night, and though days have been not as cruel for Y/N Stark, yet Sansa was still the subject of her future lord husband's cruelty. Being the betrothed of a bratty king couldn't be easy - Sandor saw the worry in his wife's eyes, and that very concern dripped with every word she spoke to him in private. There was nothing he could do for the little bird that sang like one of those birdies from the Summer Isles. His dear little vixen wasn't tamed - Nor did he want her to be - But he also didn't want to see the king wearing fox fur any time soon. He couldn't protect everyone at once - Heavens knew, he was just a stupid dog, bound by his duty to the Lannisters, yet soul bound to the Stark girl he was married to. A fine privilege that no other man could ever even dream of - Let alone, a member of the kingsguard.

In all ways possible, he was pissing on every vow and oath existent to mankind. And he was loving it. 

Sandor was very fine with checking each evening on the girl in her own room, as seeing her reading or embroidering - Or whatever it was that noble women liked to do - As long as she wasn't in the direct way of harm, he was content. She wasn't going out much, unless it was to escort her sister through the gardens - Though even those stank like shit, because of all the waste from Fleas Bottom. Really, that place had to be destroyed and all the people killed. They were nothing but trouble.

There came new reason for worry though, as Sandor found out about the farewell 'party' of Princess Myrcella - The royal family, as well as the Stark girls, as well as the Stokeworths and some others were to see the little girl on her way to the docks, where she would depart for Dorne, soon to be wed to the Martell heir. Going on horseback, through, it was imminent death, and no amount of golden cloaks or white cloaks could flawlessly save the entire retinue - Clegane thought to himself. He was glued to the King - He knew something would definitely happen, should he allow any of the other incompetent idiots who call themselves the 'Knights of the Kingsguard' were left unsupervised. The Queen was flanked by three knights - The same as Joffrey. The Imp had just one white cloak, along with his sworn sellsword or whatever that frail man was - He often saw him in the tavern, drinking and whoring. Y/N and Sansa, however, barely had any real protection - They had two other women with them. He knew one of them was a Stokeworth - The other, he did not know, nor care. His eyes were glued to his little fox and that striking, vibrant green dress that brought out her eyes so well. Sansa was wearing a powder pink, soft and feminine, fit for a fair maiden. A little bird, ready to sing her song. But the other two had similar hairstyles and clothes. Y/N didn't. Y/N kept most of her hair flowing, aside from two braids with flowers - As if she was some flower spirit.

The way to the docks went relatively well, and Myrcella was sent off to Dorne. The way back, however, was not as safe. People were hostile - Aggressive. Angry. They were shouting various things - Their frustrations. Hunger, especially. They kept chanting usurper names, from Stannis to the Young Wolf, Robb Stark, or even Renly Baratheon's name. No surprise, as soon as Y/N heard Robb's name, her attention snapped to the people perched on the walls. Skeleton people, skin and bones, desperate and in need of taking care of.

The first to react was Tyrion, who had Prince Tommen quickly taken away from the retinue. Y/N grabbed Sansa's hand and held it tightly, her other hand checking the simple dagger in her sleeve. She was not allowed her sword, so it was the next best thing. She feared now that she might be needing it. 

The riot was started by some woman who went before the King and showed him her dead baby. Sansa gently told Joffrey that she might appease the crowd if he were to give her some money. He was greedy, and barely spared a silver stag - Yet even that coin, he threw in the crowd, for the people to fight over it. Anarchy started as someone retaliated to this mocking by throwing literal shit, hitting Joffrey right in the face. Tyrion shouted at the knights to take the Queen away as fast as possible, while the Hound and the other members of the Kingsguard were focusing on protecting and dragging the King back to the Keep. This left the four women completely unprotected during this madness and forced to witness the High Septon being dragged by the people and ripped apart, limb from limb - Only to completely cannibalize him. 

Y/N grabbed Sansa, who was being clinged onto by the other two women, and tried to make way between the many so-called knights, trying to reach the keep. The road was blocked by tens upon tens of filthy men who tried to grab them, and they spewed vulgar words. The eldest Stark lady cursed under her breath and used her dagger, impaling the eye of one who dared touch her little sister, and kicking him away, she ran away with the girls in the other direction, where Cersei was being taken. She couldn't even pinpoint where her Dwarf friend and ally was - She was simply lost, in an ocean of enemies. 

By the time they got away, only three remained. Their way forth was blocked by two men, so Y/N backed to her right - The only open way. Only Sansa and Lollys remained by her side. But they were met with misfortune, as the cramped alleyway was a dead end that led into some kind of closed stable, with hay to on the ground and what not. It wouldn't last long. She knew that. "Lollys - Go back the way we came, but turn right. The path that the Queen and her knights took is clear by now." Y/N told the Stokeworth lady, dreading her awful deception. Lollys was a known halfwit, unmarried, a maiden still at three and twenty. She wasn't the most attractive woman in the world - But she did not care. Y/N would even stoop so low, if it meant keeping herself and Sansa safe. The lady, worried, nodded vigorously and ran as she was instructed. Little after she turned towards the path Cersei took, Lollys's scream was heard. Both Stark girls shuddered. 

"Why did you do that?!" Sansa grabbed her elder sister, who slapped her hand over her mouth and pulled her flush against the wall.

"Lollys is not my sister. You are. Not keep quiet." Y/N whispered in her ear. She was even afraid of breathing, in fear of alerting the wild men outside. Their safety didn't last long, for one man found its way in this stable. Y/N killed him with ease and pulled his body away from the corridor. Another and another came - But she could defeat them with ease, as they were all defenseless. Though she ordered Sansa to pick up any kind of weapon, she was cowered in a corner. Gods knew, there were plenty of wooden bats even, with which she could defend herself against a single man. She was too far gone. Y/N thought, by now, she'd have gotten used to this hell and would learn to fight back by herself, and preserve her life. She did not.

But she will need to, unless she wants a dozen men to fuck her to death. "SANSA, GET A WEAPON!" Y/N yelled to her sister, seeing more and more men intrude the stables, in packs of two or three - Though she struggled, she killed them. "SANSA! WAKE UP! I NEED YOU!" Y/N kept yelling at her sister, realising how she was struggling to keep the predators away from them.

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T! I'M SCARED!" she was sobbing and shaking in the corner. "WHERE IS THE HOUND?! WHERE IS THE IMP?! WHERE IS EVERYONE WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT US?!" she kept on babbling around.

"To hell with everyone - We have only ourselves now, damn it! Get up and fight!" Y/N's words only earned more deep sobs and whimpers - Followed by a shriek.

"STOP! I WILL KILL HER! DROP YOUR WEAPON OR I BASH HER PRETTY SKULL OPEN BEFORE I FUCK YOU BOTH!" one burlier man got ahold of a bat and threatened Sansa. Y/N only looked in horror at her little sister, threatened with death, crying and apologising over and over again. Y/N felt the dagger fall from her grasp, before she was struck hard and thrown to the ground - Not on the hay, but on the cobbled floor. She kicked around and tried to punch, even dragged herself towards the hay, trying to reach the kicked dagger, but also afraid of that one hurting Sansa - But he had his boot over her only weapon - And he threw Sansa to the side, reaching to the Lady on the ground. His hand buried deep into her flame hair, pulled on it hard and rolled the girl over on her back. The flowers were long since destroyed, and the searing burn from her scalp was blinding her.

She felt her hands being stomped on, so she would stop struggling so much, while the other five surrounded her. Two were fully naked, one only shirtless, while the other were beginning to undress. She tried to kick away the one who kept trying to get between her legs, but the naked ones grabbed away at her ankles and knees and pulled them away. For skeletal people, they were awfully strong. "SANDOR! SANDOR!" Y/N didn't realise she was crying her husband's name, still squirming around, hoping to escape, but Sansa felt her heart stabbed. Her strong, ferocious elder sister was resumed to a scared girl, just like she was - And she was calling for help from the ugly beast. 

"Don't even think, girl." the one who was sitting on Y/N's hands took out his cock and glared at Sansa, a perverted smirk on her face. "You're next." is this what they deserved for using Lollys as a bait?

Hard, rushed steps made their way through the endless stable-like corridor - The knight saw the glimpse of expensive shoes worn by a woman with pale skin like snow and legs flawlessly sculped. An ugly sucker was on his knees, between her skirts, while another either trying to choke her or keep her quite, covering her mouth with those disgusting ones. He saw Sansa Stark, trembling in the corner - Her blue eyes like the sky were wet like rain - They noticed him, but didn't dare speak a word. They were pleading to him to save the one on the ground.

Sandor Clegane felt a rage like never before - His longsword impaled the churl who dared sit in a place no man should ever stay around his lady wife - All the way to its hilt. If he wanted to impale something, now, he felt what it was like to get impaled back. Sandor cut that fucker in two - Then four, and more parts, all the viscera on the ground, unrecognizable. Pure anger was fueling him as he easily disposed of the other shits surrounding her - And with the bigger one finally stepping away from her hands, she was able to crawl and hide in a corner, holding her hands to her chest. They hurt so much, and the feeling of the crawling hands on her skin - They were haunting her and she wanted to flay herself from disgust. Those hands weren't Sandor's. Those men weren't Sandor. This wasn't their room either. 

Her mind was still swimming with incoherent thoughts - Only to squeak and try to hide even further inside the cold stone corner of the corridor upon feeling another touch. "It's over, Y/N. You're safe now. I'm here." Sansa was in deep shock - She had never heard the Hound ever having such a gentle, velvety voice, nor did she imagine a man who looked so sloppy, clumsy and rough, being so careful with someone, especially her sister, whom, she thought, married unwillingly. What about all those rumours of abuse? Had Y/N truly spoken the truth to her before?

Noticing her uneven breathing, Sandor took off his gloves. "I'm here, my little fox. You can open your eyes. There's no more threat now." he cupped her face gingerly, and made her look at him - She looked so broken, so afraid. It was different from the time Eddark Stark died. He wanted to hold her cradled to his chest and rock her, kiss her hair and tell her it's all going to be alright. She's safe with him. She's always safe with him. She looked so weak, so vulnerable, so frail. So very afraid. He knew what happened to her. That night of their wedding when they confessed their woes, it was the only time they truly allowed themselves to open their hearts to another. True and sincere. "Can you see me, little fox?" though she took a while, she nodded slightly. "Do you know who I am?"  once again, she nodded. "Do you trust me?" she looked at him long, and his dark eyes twitched with every tears that escaped her eye. He thought that her unresponsiveness meant a negative answer. Instead, he was shocked to see the girl crawl into his arms and nestle herself into his plated chest. 

"I called for you." her shaky breath was heart shattering. "And you came." she whimpered. "You are here." she repeated, again and again. "I was so scared, Sandor. So scared." his arms were holding her protectively to his body, caressing and untangling her beautiful hair, kissing it now and again.

"I know, little fox. I know." the monster of a man was so loving and kind to her sister, Sansa thought - The most unlikely man, who pissed on all knights - Was a paradox. The most knightly man in the world. Also, the most gentle. "I will always keep you safe." the man held her that-a-way until he could feel her trembling going down.

"Sandor. I have sinned." she spoke meekly. Those words spooked the man greatly.

"Had any of those fuckers touched you? Did they hurt you?" he asked, fearing the worst - Thankfully, she shook her head. He had gotten there in time. "Then whatever you did, it doesn't matter. You're safe now. We're going back to your room and we're not leaving until you've calmed." he reassured her.

"I lied to Lollys. Made her run away. I used her as bait. I fear for her, yet had no remorse, using her to save Sansa and myself." he had seen that one - Walking dazed, naked through the streets, covered with a variety of... Things.

"She's alive." he grunted, evading any implication. "Anything else doesn't matter now. Let's get you two back to the castle." but her soft whimper proved she was still afraid of the outside word. 

"Can you carry Sansa?" the girl asked, struggling to get up.

"No." the man rasped harshly, confusing his wife. "The little bird is not my lady wife. The little bird has wings. She will be fine by my side. The riot has subsided significantly." Sandor's strong arms scooped Y/N into his arms.

"How come we always end up like this?" the girl asked, her arms gingerly wrapped around his neck, her head hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Because I can." he said. "And because I especially like carrying my pretty little fox to bed." though said in a jesting manner, he looked down, and noticed her bashful expression. He wasn't a dashing, charming man - Never was - But whatever he was doing, he must be doing right. Or maybe her brain was simply broken. Who knew. "You have got to stop letting other men ruin your clothes." he pointed out playfully. "The only man allowed to rip your dress off is me."

"If you do that every time you want me, I won't be able to keep up... And seam more clothes. What ever will I do?" slowly, she was finding her voice again - She was safe. The safest she's ever been.

"Sleep all day like the spoiled little vixen that you are and wear those sheer gowns with which you tease me with."

The way back to the keep was surprisingly short - Or maybe it felt that way, being carried effortlessly by the giant man. By the time they arrived, Tyrion looked at the two Stark sisters with eyes and mouth wide open. "Take the little bird back to her cage. She's bleeding - See to her cut." The Hound instructed the Lannister imp, watching Sansa being taken away by her maids. 

"Lady Y/N, are you alright?" Tyrion's voice, albeit filled with concern, was sympathetic and soft. He knew his friend as she always was - Defiant, strong, valiant and cunning. The way she was cuddled up in Clegane's arms, so small, so defenseless, powerless - It broke the dwarf's heart.

"She's fine. No harm done. Tell the King I'm off duty today." with a shared nod of their head, Clegane turned around.

"Good job, Clegane." though the Hound let out some grunt as a response, he leapt up the stairs to get into the castle, and back into her room. Her safe haven. The only place she could relatively feel safe - And since their wedding, the chamber he visited the most. 

The comfortable bed, the pillows, the blankets - They all felt like a fluffy cloud, keeping her away from any trouble from outside of these four walls keeping her safe. Sometimes, she wishes she would never leave this room, and just have Sandor hold her in his arms forever.

But then she misses her home and finds herself going through the flower garden or Godswood. It was the best thing she could do, in lack of her real home.

Like before, Y/N dressed in her sleeping wear while Sandor took off his armor. Suddenly, he felt so much better with all that weight off him. He was so used to all the knight stuff that he didn't notice the emotional and mental burden pressed on him with each piece of protective metal on him.

The gloves and chest piece especially, were his favourite parts to remove. He could feel Y/N as he touched her, and more, he could pull her against his broad chest where she so loved to nestle herself and fall asleep. She looked like a tiny little fox pup compared to him. It was very amusing. "Sandor - Will you please stay the night again? Stay with me? Forever?" the girl asked in a small voice.

"If you want me to, I will." he grunted, holding her tighter.

"I do." she spoke back. 

It was barely the next day that Y/N found out the tragic fate of Lollys, impregnated by half a hundred men - Not only did Y/N felt her vision blurry and mind go hazy, Sandor was sick to his stomach as well - He didn't care for the Stokeworth halfwit - It would be stupid to weep for every tragic soul in Westeros - But the mere thought that, should he not have been there, the same could have happened to his little lady, it made him want to castrate every man who dared look her way. He can't handle the simple idea of any harm coming her way - She's suffered enough, hasn't she? Now she was safe, and he will continue to keep her that a way. She had a bad marriage - He knew the truth. He knew she was the one who poisoned her late lord husband - He did not care. He was going to show her there was no need to fear, that he was no way the awful beast that the fucker was. He was just a dog - Stupidly loyal and aggressively overprotective. 

He had seen her bruised body, after Joffrey ordered not only him, but others to beat her, not on a single occasion - He felt guilty and ashamed - How could fate be so cruel, to force him to lay his hand on his own lady wife? The king was a cunt, but he was powerless before him and his stupid family. He kissed every inch of unnaturally coloured skin - Blue, black, yellow, and every other colour that a bruise can get. And only he knew how much she hated yellow. 

It was in this room that he first danced, in the dim light from the candles, as Y/N hummed a pretty song from the North and she embraced him, swaying with him, the way she her her mum and dad dance one night, on the anniversary of their wedding - They thought they were sneaky, outside, at night. They weren't - Not to her, at least. 

It was in that room that the girl first kissed him, and she caressed his burnt, ugly face, planting lots of little kisses all over - He felt like his soul was departing from his body from the heavenly way he was feeling. It was also, in this room, that he first saw her naked, in his arms - The suffocating feeling of love and passion that was overflowing from his body, watching her melt, and every sweet noise that escaped those lovely lips, were taking him to the edge. It was then that he realised that none of his previous addictions were able to get his mental stability back - They were all distractions from the miserable life he was feeling. He needed no alcohol to drown down his sorrows, no depraved whores that would do the most shameless things to him, nor did he need to waste his money away on baseless gambling. He needed only her love - So, so  desperately, as without it, he would die.

It was here that he first had a woman urge him to relax with his head on her lap, as she read to him whatever story book she found around - Albeit, not without various pragmatic comments about its content - All which made her laugh. That night, he remembers he was so comfortable, at ease. He felt inner peace, which he's never felt before - And he fell asleep, with Y/N's hand stroking his hair and caressing his face. He genuinely forgot how ugly and disfigured he was, whenever she was around - It was like she was not seeing the hideousness that he was seeing.

And here it was that he could drink wine or ale without feeling the need to get drunk to death, all so he could watch the graceful way in which she embroidered or fixed his ripped clothes - Yet she never touched the ripped Clegane cape, yellow and black. She told him that she would use it as fuel for the fire kindling in the fireplace. Her long, slender fingers could create such small and meticulous thing - While all he could do was destroy everything that stood in his way, with those huge, calloused, rough hands of his.

And wood carving. That, he could do. It involved a sharp blade - He was good with those. Hence why, he had gifted her a statuette of Meleys, her red wolf, whom she missed so dearly - And then, it was, that she told him the secret of the Stark children and their warg abilities. 

Finally, it was here that Sandor finally started longing for a place of their own - Small and cozy, away from the chaos and threats of King's Landing - He was willing to return with Y/N back to her home in Winterfell if she would have him, but anywhere was fine. He would build the house himself, and every piece of furniture - Would make the house impeccable and warm, and fit for the most special woman in the world - This change only happened once he heard her yearning for home one night, saying how she wished the two were back there, where it all began. Back when things were still safe and harmless. 

He had all the time in the world to think of that - As a Knight of the Kingsguard, as a white cloak and the King's personal sworn shield, he was forced to serve for life. All the same, he was not supposed to marry either - Not that he ever thought he would - Yet here he was, a married man, and very much content and happy with this intertwined fate.

This messed up peace was disrupted when King's Landing fell under attack from the enemy, Stannis Baratheon himself. It was late into the night, and all the noble women were sitting in the same room as the Queen - Who was drinking wine and masking her worry. Y/N forgot any animosity for Cersei Lannister, and asked to drink with her - Though surprised, the Queen accepted, and even poured some of the sweet wine into her cup. Sansa was pacing worriedly around the room - Her sister only bothered to throw a comment or two her way, but she already knew they were pointless. It was either death or living, yet everything went down to the army's prowess and their strategies.

The Hound had told her before, the castle was being kept safe by a bunch of cunts. Old veterans, new recruits, squires, and whatever cloaks they could find - Every competent knight was fighting in the Riverlands, with Tywin Lannister. It was the perfect strategy, Stannis attacking them from the Blackwater Bay - But Tyrion told her of his witty strategy involving wildfire. 

Of course, after a few too many cups of wine, Y/N became restless and gripped the sword she kept for protection. Dark Sister never failed to keep her safe in every situation. She went outside - And from the distance and that height, she could see the ships approaching swiftly - Only for a huge explosion of green flames to erupt throughout the black sea. "O, Sandor..." the imagery could have even be called artistic and beautiful, in its own tragedy and death - Yet Y/N's mind was only on Sandor, and how terrified he must of all that fire. Her sweet Sandor. 

The fire was everywhere, ranging from every shade of vibrant green, to strong yellow. Oh, how she hated that awful yellow. She really needed to find Sandor - And fast - Before he loses his mind because of all this madness. "Y/N, what in Seven Hells are you doing here?!" she heard Tyrion's voice, stopping his commanding for a second, his eyes bulking in bewilderment at seeing her, with her sword in her hand. 

"I have to find Sandor. Do you see that fire? He's going to lose his mind. If you want The Hound to keep on fighting, Sandor Clegane must be snapped out of his traumatic fear." she explained, standing tall and scanning for the man.

"I understand - I will look for him - But please, for goodness's sake, go back to safety! Only the Gods know, if anything happens to you, Clegane would get over his fear of fire and actually burn the whole King's Landing to the ground!" the dwarf tried to warn her. The King was there too, satisfied after the wildfire explosion, but incredibly terrified of war.

"I don't see the problem." the girl muttered, simply uncaring of any repercussion she might face. "Ah - There he is." the girl pushed the two out of her way and jumped off the stairs, sprinting and killing the enemies that approached her dog. "Sandor! Sandor, snap out of it! You're fine! You're safe with me - Sandor, everything will be alright!" the girl yelled at him, hoping to be heard through the ocean of screams. "Sandor, look at me! My love -- Look at me!" with her free hand, she brought his head down so she could touch her forehead to his own, bringing him some peace before she pulled him into a deep kiss. "It's me. It's your little fox. Snap out of it, my love. Wake up." she pleaded and pleaded - And a kiss was his only reply. 

"I need a drink." he muttered, clearly shaken.

The Hound grabbed her wrist and brought her to safety, close to the gates of the castle where Tyrion was. He can't believe that he began this war, threatening the army that he would fuck their dead bodies if they die with a clean sword - Yet here he was, losing his mind over fire. Pathetic. Just like the water the page offered him. He threw the deerskin back at him, before downing the wine in one go. 

"Can I get you some iced milk - And a bowl of raspberries too?" the dwarf asked, appalled by their greatest fighter being so vulnerable - He was seeing their defeat before his eyes.

"Eat shit, dwarf." Clegane snarled ugly at him.

"You're on the wrong side of the wall!" Tyrion reprimanded him harshly.

"I lost half my men." Sandor spoke. "The Blackwater's on fire..." his voice was shaking from fright and shock, memories of his own burning marks flashing painfully. 

"Dog! I command you to go out there and FIGHT!" Joffrey shouted at his own protector.

"Leave him be!" Y/N shouted back at the offended King. "Can't you see he's traumatised?! What good would throwing him back out there do for you, if he'll only die? Who will protect you as good as him? There's no one out there who would devout his own life like that for you!" the girl reprimanded the boy, as if she was scolding her own brothers - Bad move, Tyrion thought, not only as she had no right to scold the King, but also, because they truly needed Clegane to fight.

"I'll have you killed, you stupid bitch. You ruined my dog! You tamed my vicious, rabid dog! I'll put your head on a spike, right next to your traitor father, when this battle is won!" Joffrey yelled back at her, almost frothing at the mouth.

"You're Kingsguard, Clegane! We must beat them back, unless they're going to take the city. Your King's city." Tyrion spoke pointed to him.

"Fuck the Kingsguard." this comment took aback the Lannister and the Baratheon King. "Fuck the city." he continued, before his eyes glared at Joffrey. "Fuck the King." throwing away the empty deerskin, he threw his arm around his girl and took her away from there.

"That was incredibly brave of you. And such a turn on. Did you see Joffrey's face?" the girl's giggled did nothing for the man.

"Fuck that bratty cunt's face. We're leaving the city." the girl stopped dead in her track. "You heard me. Let's get your sister and let's go." 

"You... Know the implications, don't you?" she asked, knowing how, should he be found and caught, he would face execution.

"Die here in the fire, die here from being a dumb idiot, or die somewhere out there - Dying is dying, the reason matters little." there was truth in his words. "We are going North." he heart leapt, and Y/N immediately flushed with life and she was now the one dragging him away, to Sansa's room.

"Sansa!" Y/N called out, unwillingly frightening her, almost dropping her doll. "We are leaving the city."  she spoke in a rush.

"What?" her sister gasped, her gaze going between the two. "Y/N, you must have drunk too much with the Queen. We can't leave - That's... That's treason. We can't." but the elder Stark girl rolled her eyes.

"You are not speaking courtesies to the Queen, Sansa. You are speaking to your sister. Fuck any courtesy you know. The city will fall. Let's go back home." Y/N tried to persuade her, but even her words didn't reach her.

"I'm not coming." her words felt like a guillotine blade - Sharp and just. "Please don't try to convince me. You two are married - Even if you didn't want to, you would still follow your lord husband. But I'm not going. I have to stay here." she felt a sharp slap on her face.

"Are you out of your mind?! If the city falls, there's no way knowing what Stannis might do to you! And if the city does not fall - Joffrey and Cersei will continue to torture you. You want that? To become the most tragic Queen in history? To have that diabolical brat abuse you with every chance he gets?!" she yelled desperately at her sister, who turned away, clutching her cheek.

"Just leave! Leave, or I will tell the Queen of your plot!" Sansa's voice was wavery - No doubt, she was crying. "We are not like each other. I- I was never like you. Arya was. Arya would have picked up a weapon when you were attacked, and she would have protected you, while I just stood there and cried. Arya would have ran away with you, just like she did when dad died. Arya would have been as defiant and reckless as you. But I'm not like you. This is who I am. This is my path, and I'm willing to go down, being who I am." her words were melodramatic and absolutely tragic.

"Sansa - The Others take me - If you do not come, I will hit you over the head, make you faint, and drag you out of this hell myself. So just come willingly already. Fuck the Lannisters and fuck this forsaken place. This is not where we belong. Our place is up in the North. It always has and it will always be so. Come on." Sansa did not budge.

"I will hate you forever if you do that. I will even kill myself. Leave me out of your plot, and I will pretend I had no idea you left. Now go!" the young Stark's conviction put her sister's at a loss. What was she supposed to do? She wasn't going to remain here - But if she left, only Tyrion remained to protect her, and there was only so much he could do.

"You're making a grave mistake, little song bird." Sandor warned the girl.

"So are you. Keep her safe out there. Now leave." it was with heavy feet that Y/N left her sister's room, and both the Stark girls felt shattered, being torn apart from each other. Sandor took Y/N to the stables, from where he retrieved his beautiful black horse, Stranger, and another one for the girl.

"I'm proud of you, Sandor." the girl spoke, her hand reaching out to cup his face. "You were very brave today. I'm happy that you're no longer tied to some child who does not appreciate you." the man scoffed in self-deprecation.

"I don't need to hear any of that. I just need to get as far away from that fire as possible." he muttered, leaning into her loving touch.

"Sandor. I love you." her voice was sweet, but her kiss was sweeter. He did not say a single word, yet he almost felt guilty for not doing so. "You don't have to tell me anything. Your actions speak far louder than any words existent." he barked a dry laugh.

"You and that cunning, silver tongue of yours. You're lucky I didn't cut it yet." he helped her up, before the two ran the hell out of there, towards the North. The whole night they were tireless and galloped away through the forests, avoiding the King's Road, in case anyone might want to follow their traces.

Her closest relatives were either to the far left, in the Westerlands, where Robb was fighting, or up and to the right, in the Eyrie, where her aunt would be waiting. From the two options, neither were great - But she wanted to see the heir of Winterfell. Thankfully, the Young Wolf was winning his fights and keeping Jaime Lannister as the perfect captive. And once they arrive at his camp, she can finally call Meleys, Lady and Nymeria back to her. It was perfect.

Sandor and Y/N stopped riding, once they spotted an inn. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Y/N spoke, getting off the horse. "That is what dad always told us. Yet now, look at us. All of us. We are spread all over Westeros. We should have never left Winterfell." she sneered, still angry for leaving her sister behind.

"You've got a dog protecting you. The rest of the pack can be gathered. As long as we're far away from that shit city, we can do whatever the hell we want." the girl hummed in agreement. The two propped the horses outside and went to warm themselves and get something warm to eat. 

"We've got a long way ahead of us. Are you ready, dear?" he let out a grunt, eating away on that chicken leg. A man sat on the bench opposite of them - A dashing smirk, and a flower in his hand - He extended his hand between the two travelling companions, who were more confused than anything.

"O, what a sight to behold! Your beauty exceeds any flower that I hath seen!" the young lad spoke, and Sandor looked at Y/N - Her hand was covering her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

"You want to such my dick, is that it?" Clegane asked the young one.

"Dick?" he repeated the unknown word. "Cock." the dog clarified.

"Ohhhh." the young one let out a dumb exhale of realisation. "Dick. Yeah, I like it." he nodded, understanding, and liking the sound of the word.

"I bet you do." Y/N couldn't hide her giggles anymore. The poor boy thought he was the one amusing her.

"My fair maiden, please accept this token of courtship - You are, by far, the most beautiful lady that I have ever seen." though the girl's smile was wry, she had no idea how to respond. Instead, Sandor's large hand grabbed the flower and destroyed it in his fist, before glaring harshly enough as to scare away the poor lad.

"She HATES yellow." Sandor smirked, remembering the moment he threw away his house's cloak, permanently renouncing it and any titles that were associated with his Clegane name, along with his hound helmet. From then on, he was not Ser Clegane, nor The Hound, or the King's sworn shield, a member of the Kingsguard, or some stupid cloak.

He was just Sandor, a dog taking care of his lovely little fox and whatever wolf pup she decided to take care of. 

And only Sandor knew how much he loved red.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hi I just saw that your requests are open! Could you write Sandor with a religious wife [faith of the seven]? Both SFW and NSFW are fine, just whatever you think of! I love your writing🫶

(ah thank you so much!! I've missed writing for Sandor so thank you for indulging me with your request :D enjoy!)

(Sandor Clegane x female reader - no warnings, all SFW :D)

Sandor is not religious himself. He's had too many difficulties with religious people in the past (mostly followers of the Lord of Light), so it might take him a while to warm up to you.

Once he sees that you're truly a good person, that your religion makes you hopeful and strong but not vulnerable, he starts to admire it. In his eyes you're pure and virtuous, which makes him worry that he isn't good enough, but with enough reassurance he might start to believe he's worthy of you.

When you start courting, he finds a seven pointed star pendant that he buys without a second thought to give to you. If he sees you wearing it he's pleasantly surprised, and if you point out how happy it makes him seem then he will absolutely get flustered.

Fancy ceremonies were never really his thing, so your wedding is almost entirely your choice. Any particular traditions that you'd like to incorporate? Give him the puppy eyes, he can never resist you when you look at him like that.

(he's definitely 100% wrapped around your little finger by the time you're in a relationship but he's in denial)

Sandor is willing to put up with almost anything if it makes you happy, and at your wedding he's too awestruck by you to really pay attention anyway.

He remains largely agnostic even after you're married, but he no longer bears the same hatred of religion.

Your commitment and faith is always going to be something he loves about you, and by being yourself in this way you encourage him to be a better person even if you don't realize.

Provided that you have a less tumultuous life than is usual in King's Landing, he starts to view the world a little more from your perspective. He finds himself going out of his way to help people, to think more carefully about his actions, and for the first time in his life Sandor has some hope for the future.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden

Imagine being Queen Cersei's favorite handmaiden Pt.2

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

(Cersei x fem reader, slight Sandor x fem reader if you like it like that. I've decided this is going to be a series that will go into smutty territory eventually, but it'll definitely be a slow burn)

The ride north was an unforgiving one. Being lowborn, you had only admired horses from afar before being expected to ride in the Queen's entourage. Side saddle riding protected your modesty and spared your thighs the chafing that the Male riders suffered, but your lower back and shoulders ached all the same.

The queen rode in a lavish carriage with her three children, guarded closely on either side by Ser Jaime and Sandor Clegane.

Due to your inexperience riding and your new found favor with her grace, you were instructed to ride along side The Hound, who was under orders to keep any eye on you and intervene if the mare beneath you proved too rowdy.

It was clear that The Hound resented this duty, already having to keep an eye on the young Prince Joffery, who alternated between riding in the carriage and mounting his own steed. A bright white and rowdy gelding that was the torment of the other horses in the party. It nipped and whinied, trotting circles around the group in a foppish, showy manner.

The Hound, on the other hand, mounted a broad bodied horse that was black as midnight with a coal grey mane named Stranger.

As the prince took another lap, the white gelding nipped at the hindquarters of your mare for what must have been the fifth or sixth time that day. The mare, tired and frustrated with this harassment, finally decided to voice her displeasure by baying loudly and bouncing her back legs enough to bounce you around.

"No, no Girl. Whoa, stop stop stop" you squealed, pulling at the reins with as much force as you dared but the horse was too fed up to mind.

"Stop! Stop the carriage" a firm and regal voice put a halt to the party as Clegane snatched the reigns from your grasp and managed to settle the mare back into submission.

"Mother's Mercy!" A gruff voice growled, accompanied by the heavy trot of hooves. King Robert's face was red as a cherry from drink and frustration as he glared at the queen. "If you keep holding us up, Winterfell will be snowed in before we even get there!"

"I apologize, Your Grace" You bowed your head, face flushed with embarrassment. "It was my fault, I failed to control my mount. My deepest apologies."

Robert's eyes rolled nearly back to his skull with a begrudging sigh before flinging a finger at Clegane.

"You, Hound, let the girl ride with you and have that beast tethered to a wagon"

He tossed a glare back at the queen, a look which said 'you just had to bring her, didn't you?' Before returning to his place in the party.

"I'm sorry" you nearly whispered, tailing the gargantuan man as he tether the horse in brooding silence.

Heading back to Stranger, you nearly cried out as Clegane snatched the softness of your arm and all but dragged you up onto the horse in front of him. His grip was bruising and you had to force yourself not to rub the part where he snatched you like a hawk snatches a rabbit.

"Not one word" he growled "or I'll toss you from this horse and let you walk to Winterfell."

You rode until dusk, and your body didn't relax until you were safely once again on solid ground.

Once again, The Hound dismounted first before he gripped you by the waist, hard fingers pressing into the soft flesh under your riding clothes, and all but dragged you off the horse where you landed with a wobble of your knees.

"Y/N, To me" your mistress called and you rushed to her side immediately.

"Yes, Your Grace" your curtsey suffered from the weakness in your legs, but the Queen hardly seemed to notice.

"You had us worried there" She looked down at you with unreadable eyes, "You'll have to improve your riding if you wish to keep up"

"I will, Your Grace. Thank you"

"Take my things inside" she motioned vaguely to the inn at which you had stopped for the night. "Just follow King Robert's squire, he'll show you. Then come back for the children's things"

"Immediately, Your Grace"

The work was arduous, and by the time you finished it was past dark. The inn provided food and housing for the higher members of the entourage, but at The Queen's insistence you were to sleep at the foot of her bed as you did in The Red Keep.

Robert was apathetic to this. Ser Jaime, to your surprise, seemed genuinely disappointed by this and approached the queen when they thought they had a moment in private, not knowing you were settling the queen in as they spoke

"Don't worry" Cersei assured him "I'll just send her out"

-----------

After dinner, you tended to your queen with great care. Standing behind her as she sat on the edge of the plush feather bed, you gently pulled a comb through her golden locks, picking out any snags with extreme tenderness.

"Y/N, tonight my brother will be coming by to discuss some family matters and I want you out of the way."

"Of course, your grace." You complied, satisfied with this explanation. Of course she wouldn't want you around when they discussed Lannister matters.

"And..." She turned slightly, looking up at you through her lashes in a way that made your breath catch in your chest. "Be a good girl, and don't mention this to anyone. It's my business, and I expect you to keep it that way"

"Not a word, Your Grace" Your face began to flush as her long, slender hand grasped your small, common one.

"Not even to The King"

"The King?" You paused, confused why the king would inquire about such a thing in the first place. "Yes, your grace. Not even to the King. I swear it"

Cersei's face softened at this and, to your great shock, raised your hand to her face and allowed it to stroke her cheek gently.

"What would I do without you?" She breathed before letting your hand drop back to your side and turning back around so you could finish combing out her hair.

You carried the high of her touch through the evening and even when she sent you away. You curtisied to Jaime primly before slipping outside back to the wagons.

Aimless, you went to the stables where the horses had been bedded down for the night, glancing into each stall curiously until you found the mare you had ridden earlier.

Her tawny coat had been brushed and her white snout was buried in a pail of oats.

"Hello" you greeted her in a small voice. "I'm sorry about before, it wasn't your fault"

The horse snorted at you in an apathetic manner, flicking the flies off with her tail.

"Don't talk to horses" a gruff voice scolded you from down the stable hall.

You jumped, having believed you were alone, before craning you head to see who spoke.

"Why not?" You eyed The Hound with flushed cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught.

"Because it makes you look mad" he grumbled. "No one wants a mad handmaid"

"Well" you sputtered as he approached you from Stranger's stall, "It wasnt her fault. It was that gelding that kept biting her"

"It wasn't her fault, you're right" he stopped, towering over you like a shadow. "It was your fault"

"What?"

"That mare is the most patient thing in this barn, trained to handle children and unskilled little fools like you." He leaned against the wood of the stall with his arms crossed firmly. "If you'd just kept your calm like any person with half a brain would, she would have listened to you"

"I do so have a brain" You raged. Where did he get off being so disrespectful when all you'd been was polite?

"Doubt it" The hound scoffed "The queen does all your thinking for you, she's got your brain tucked away in all those trunks somewhere."

"Why I-" you gasped "All I have ever done is my very best for Her Grace's comfort and happiness. If My Lady has any issue with the way I serve her, she will not hesitate to let me know"

"I'll bet" a cruel smirk spread across Sandor's face. "And they call me the hound. What a well trained little bitch she has in you."

The slap came on reflex, fueled by indignant rage that fled your body as quickly as it came. The blood drained from your face as the Hound's gaze trained on you with a low growl.

"You get one of those. Only one. Next time you even think about raising hand to me, I'll tear it off and beat you with it"

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes as if bracing for a strike until Clegane let out a slow exhale.

"Run back to your mistress, little girl. And don't let me see your face until morning."

You did exactly that, hovering in the hallway of your lady's room until Ser Jaime slipped out quietly and tried to sneakily return to his own before stopping in his tracks at the sight of you.

You curtisied and kept your head down until your chin was jerked up suddenly, making you flinch. Jaime's eyes studied your face, smoothing his thumb over your cheek to wipe away a stream of tears. You'd been crying and didn't even realize it.

"Do I need to do something about this?" The head of the kingsgaurd asked, knowing you fully got his meaning.

"No" you shook you head and wiped away what was left of your tears with your palm. "No Ser, I am fine. Thank you'

Jaime nodded. "My sister is waiting for you"

"Yes, Ser" you breathed, trying to right yourself before letting your lady see you. "Thank you, Ser"

You watched him go, steadying your breath and wiping your eyes one last time before returning to your post

[llonelygoddess]

Meeting Sandor Clegane headcanons

A/N: This is very self indulgent so reader is Black and plus size ( and I mean PLUS size). Also I'm personally Non-binary but I'm just so used to writing in female perspective soooo that's what i did ( I mean kinda, its ambiguous) :) This section is mostly just them meeting and falling in love.

Also lets pretend they know what stars are in this time period lmao

Also also I'm very open to feedback and any suggestions ppl may have so please feel free to leave me an Ask or Message!

Tw: Creepy men

You are a lady in waiting for a visiting noblewoman in King's Landing. You're from a highborn house but left your home for the opportunities the capitol provided.

Most days you find yourself waiting on your Lady and learning the way of the court (which basically means learning to talk circles around each other). She's one of the few kind people to you in this city and it's not from lack of trying.

Being in a bigger body than the other women puts a target on your back for verbal attacks and harassment, and as much as your Lady does her best to shield you from it there's only so much she can do.

That's how you met Sandor

On your way back from Court one day you find yourself cornered by two guardsmen who had their eyes on you all morning. They poke at you with their swords, making comments about ripping through your clothes when Sandor rounds a corner and spots all of you.

He meets your eyes and turns to the guards, " What do you cunts think you're doing?"

They whip around confidently until they see him and stutter over themselves backing away. You take this moment to rush away but not before whispering a thank you as you pass him.

From then on you begin to notice him more often, in Court, on your walks through the garden, even during meals. The first few times you catch his eye he quickly looks away, much to your disappointment.

It wasn't often a woman of your likeness was defended by a man, let alone at all, so you try to make it a point to find him to thank him properly.

It's difficult catching him alone but one night as your looking at the stars from the garden you hear the clanking of armor pass behind you and stop, " What're you doing here?" A deep voice asks.

You turn to him, " Oh, sorry Ser I was just enjoying the stars. Aren't they beautiful? "

"I'm no Ser, just The Hound"

" Well that's not a proper name, what did your mother call you?"

He hesitates, " Sandor"

" Thank you Sandor, for saving me a while back. I don't know what I would've done without your help." You pluck a few large daisies from the patch of flowers next to you and hold it out for him. " It's not much, but if you press it between book pages they can be used as a bookmark."

He looks around confused, " Girl, I don't read. Now lets get you back to your chambers before you have another run in with that scum. "

Dejected, you place the flowers down but stay where you are looking up at the stars. It wasn't often you could sneak out and get a good look so you savor the moment.

He huffs looking up, " What's there to look at any way? Just a bunch of lights"

Laughing softly you say, " They are more than just lights, I mean I know what the Maesters say about them but I choose to believe something else. I believe they're our dreams and wishes, hung by the Gods as a promise to fulfill them."

You realize how silly that must be to a man who kills for a living, but as you turn to him to apologize you see his face turned upwards and his eyes shut.

You both take a moment in silence beneath the stars before you turn to walk towards your room, " Good night, Sandor. I hope the night treats you well."

( What you don't see as you walk away is Sandor picking up and pocketing one of the Daisies)

During the weeks following your encounter with him, you begin to see a change in his demeanor towards you. His cold stares turn soft and fleeting and when your eyes meet in Court or during meals they linger as if he's trying to solve something in your eyes.

It flustered you to no end and soon those stolen glances turned to greetings as you passed by each other, which seemed to happen so frequently now.

He also seemed to find you every night you snuck out to see the stars. It started out staying quiet as the first night, but quickly turned to whispered conversations under moonlight till dawn. You did most of the talking, but that was okay, he wasn't one with words but his eyes could tell you stories.

Every once in a while you were even able to get him to crack a smile at your jokes about Joffrey, but he was always telling you to be careful for unwanted listeners.

He was like that more often, looking out for you. You hadn't been bothered by any of the guards since that day, the kitchen staff weren't giving you looks as you plated food anymore and it felt like you were finally fitting in. ( as much as you could in this place)

You wouldn't know it but whenever he was in your presence, even from afar, his eyes would wander to you searching for any excuse to be close. One too many times he was caught doing so and had to swiftly deal with said person. The last thing he needed was any gossip reaching yours or Joffrey's ears.

And then one night it all ended. The battle at blackwater bay.

You were tending to the crying woman and children hiding when a large BOOM is heard as the door swings open. And in pops Sandor, out of breath and rushing towards you,

" I'm getting you the fuck out of here"

He lifts you up over his shoulder, leaving no room for discussion, and heads out to his horse.

After weeks of travel, you find yourself hundreds of miles away from Kings Landing, your home, and your Lady. You thought you'd never see the day you miss Kings Landing but here you are, miles away from home with a man that makes your heart flutter. And yet, you're not sure he even feels the same.

Through the breaking daylight you see you're standing on the outskirts of a small village.

You say," You must've been frightened that night...the night the water was on fire, but what would make you think to take me with you. I'm nobody. "

He looks at you as if you've offended him and wordlessly reaches into his pocket to grab the book smashed daisy and hands it to you.

" Now, that house over there looks abandoned. We could set up- "

With all the bravery you can muster you place a hand on the side of his face and reach up to gently kiss him.

He softly places his hand over yours as he leans down for you.

After a few moments you pull away, " We might be seeing a falling star tonight."

He looks at you puzzled

You laugh lightly, " Seems a dream of mine finally came true"

Pt 2 with the actual headcanons of being with him and living in the country side should be out in the next week or so. Hope you enjoyed!!

[winterfell-fantasy]

sandor clegane masterlist

worth living - prompts “i can see it in your eyes.”. and “you make every day worth living."

[axelsagewrites]

What They're Like in Bed

Includes: Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

Warnings: TW under cut. 18+

Word count: 854

Masterlist Here

Robb

Robb is defiantly a dom. He might be the biggest romantic and will do anything you ask outside of the bedroom but inside your private chambers he is in control and if you want him to do something to you, he will gladly listen to you beg for it. This man has a thing for control and loves when you call him your king and don’t think about not asking for permissions before you act.

He loves to use a mix of praise and degradation to make you squirm beneath him, calling you his pretty little whore. He likes to hold your face, grabbing your jaw or pulling up your chin, to force you to keep eye contact with him. He gets off on the humiliation but its worth it for the things he can do with his tongue. This man is like a starved wolf when he goes down on you.

Despite his dom nature he is still caring during the whole act, leaving kisses over your body and soothing any parts of you he worried he grabbed too hard. After the act is done, he is quick to scoop you into his arms and hold you, showring your head with kisses and your ears with compliments.

Jon (more headcannons here)

Jon is a switch, so you get to have it both ways. You get the desperate to please Jon who begs to even touch you and who moans shamelessly at your touch. However, you also get the Jon who likes to grab you by your hips and bend you over any table or against any wall that’s closest.

His favourite thing is to watch you cum around him or because of him. Its his favourite part of the whole thing, watching your face contort into a mix of pain and pleasure as he finally allows you to reach your peak. That can take a bit though because this man lives for edging you and teasing the shit out of you. As you do with him. Despite loving to be cared for and praised he is a massive brat who whines when he does not instantly get what he wants.

Jons quite private about your sex life and it took him a while to admit to all his kinks to you. You knew he had a mommy kink from the beginning, but he refused to admit it for so long.

Sandor

Sandor would never admit it but he fucking loves when his partner is a brat. He loves to put you in your place, pinning you down with ease and fucking you senseless. He loves to grab your hips and chest or to be gripping and pulling your hair. He just loves to be able to throw you around really. It was slightly inevitable because of his size but he loves the size difference between you.

Sex with him is always pretty rough. Your body is often littered with bruises that he refuses to admit are deliberate. He wants everyone to know you’re his whether that be by leaving a hickey or two on or neck or having you moan and scream his name.

At first, he is always wary during sex that his size may hurt you or that you could do better but eventually you are able to convince him you can handle it. he struggled to understand that you liked the feeling of his spankings or him choking you, but he was more than happy to comply. after sex though he is always very careful and makes sure you are okay. he will hold you or even bathe you depending on how rough he had been.

Podrick

Podrick is the definition of a people pleaser. He’s very shy and unsure of himself to start but his shy and blushy nature is what endeared you. This man subs and he subs hard. He doesn’t hesitate to do exactly what you tell him too and he won’t stop till he’s told.

He loves your body. Like obsessed with it. he’s constantly praising how good you look and begging to touch you. He will kiss every inch of your skin when you let him. However, his lips always fall back to one place in particular. He will spend hours with you riding his face if you let him. If you’re not riding your face, he’s begging for you to ride him instead.

After he builds his confidence up, he sometimes will get a bit cocky and try dom you instead. Sometimes you let him and when you do, he will pin you down and fuck you senseless into the pillow. However, he does still love to see your face when he does. Other times you quickly remind him of his place and his bratting doesn’t last too long since he is as desperate to receive praise as he is to give it. After yous are done he loves to take turns holding you and being held. however, he’s always up for another round and your post sex cuddles will soon turn into round two or cock warming while he waits for you to be ready.

A/N: Gonna do another part next of some of the GOT girls. Any specific ppl you want included (guys or gals since I'll probably do more of the guys)

[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.

[mostfandomimagines]

Imagine: Reuniting with Sandor and believing that you deserve to be on your own, but Sandor says otherwise

[poisonsage808]

♡ Need ♡

Sandor Clegane x GN! Reader

18+ only under the cut

request: sandor has had a very, very rough day and when he gets back and sees them there the first thing he's doing is stripping (consensually) because he has had the most stressful, awful day and he wants the reader and he wants them now.

warnings: gender neutral reader, breeding kink, marking, unprotected sex obvi

He hadn’t said a word when he came to his chambers and found you there, waiting for him like you sometimes did. Sandor began tugging at the latches on his armor but his fingers would slip and he would growl and tug harder. He was already frustrated of the day’s events. Like it was squeezing the air out of his lungs, he was equally as desperate to get the armor off as he was pissed.

Sandor sees you drawing nearer out of the corner of his eye but he can’t look at you just yet. Your hand comes fully into view, helping him remove piece by piece his ensemble of black and steel. He usually took such care of his armor, to see him dropping it on the floor was surprising. Less so when Sandor finally rids himself of the chain and bends down to capture your lips.

It’s rough and needy, a wordless action for your permission and when you wrap your arms around his neck he knows he has it.

Your back hits the bed but when you part from the kiss, he rolls you onto your stomach with ease. You smile into the sheets but don’t dare giggle, not this time. With just as much frustration as with his own armor, he tugs your clothes off barely enough to get access to what he wants- no, needs. You can feel that need against your thigh, his hard cock weeping onto your skin. It makes you bite your lip in anticipation.

Sandor likes the view of your ass, his massive hand palming one cheek and squeezing as he lines himself up with your entrance. He moves slowly at first, giving you time to adjust. He’d sooner jump into a burning pyre than hurt you, accidentally or otherwise, especially when being intimate. Especially days like this where he’s so frustrated he can’t focus, can’t do anything but breathe until he finds safety inside of you.

Sandor’s so lucky to have you and silently he’s praising and thanking you, sinking into your warmth until he bottoms out.

You’re intoxicating.

“Better than wine,” He growls, finally speaking,

The words hardly ever come out right but that’s fine.

Your lips part to draw in a gasp, exhaling with a delectable moan that makes Sandor shudder. He loves those sounds, he intends to hear a lot more before he’s through. The behemoth of a man is more than content with actions.

He snaps his hips with as much self control as he can muster but eliciting a plea from you that finally forgoes his patience. Sandor drills into you desperately, like an animal with a feral pace. Like a hound mounting his bitch because that’s what you are. He’s greedy when it comes to you.

“You’re all mine.”

You pant, already knowing he wants— needs to hear, “Y-Yours.”

He does, Sandor loves the reminder especially when he doesn’t ask for it. His grip is bruising in the best way, pulling you to meet each thrust. Award from lips sing his favorite song, the wet slaps lude and becoming faster.

Tell me you won’t go. Tell me.

“Could stay like this forever, would you like that?”

You whimper, nodding your head against the sheets. Your hair is wild, obscuring his view of your face. Sandor frowns. That won’t do.

Gently it’s brushed away and he tilts your chin more to the side. He likes to see you, the faces you make, the way your body melts into his touch and especially how your eyes search for him when you’re about to become undone.

You’re perfect.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect.”

Of fucking course that can come out right but seven hells, you blush like he wasn’t already fucking you raw. Your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth to fight the growing smile. Such a pretty sight suddenly shoves Sandor closer to the edge than he wants to be. At first it was release he was chasing, now he doesn’t want this moment to end.

There isn’t enough time or restraint in the fucking universe for Sandor Clegane when he’s with you.

He refuses to come before you. It’s bad enough he’s using you like a stress doll, he needs you to come undone on his cock. Sandor grits his teeth as he hugs his arm around your stomach and turns to sit on the bed. He needs to feel it. Gods, it’s almost pathetic how badly he needs you.

He bounces you on his cock, rutting up to meet your abused hole. Sandor holds you tightly when you start to squirm, kissing and nipping at your neck and shoulder. His beard scratches the spot that makes you weak in the knees and you’re already done for, but his lips don’t relent. Sandor kisses you there as you whimper and ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, hugging you flush against his chest.

For a moment you wonder if he was holding back before but your brain turns to mush as he desperately thrusts into you. Sweet kisses from your lover turn into one toe curling bite on your shoulder that will absolutely leave a mark you’ll struggle to hide. He grunts as he cums into you, fucking his load so deep you’ll carry his pups by morning. (You won’t, but the thought drives him wild)

Sandor’s breaths become heavy as he finally relaxes. Frustrations gone, all he feels now is the pure adoration he has for you and only you.

“You alright?” He asks, eyeballing the teeth marks in your skin. Impossible, but he swears his cock twitches again inside of you at the sight.

“Mhm,” You sigh, resting your head back against his shoulder, “You?”

Sandor’s quiet for a moment busy studying your blissed, fucked-out face with that pretty blush still dusting your cheeks. You really are fucking perfect, aren’t you?

“Aye.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Better now.”