#sandor clegane

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 7 ✿:+ Fork In The Road.

1-2-3-4-5-6

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

CW: SMUT MDNI, afab reader, cock warming, P in V sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it up), Fem Dom (if you squint), VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: this was part of a much longer chapter so the next chapter should come out pretty soon too teeheehee. 

Word Count: 4437

You remembered the first night at kings landing alone. without your fathers protection, you missed, no matter how futile it might have been. 

you wanted to scream and cry “father keep me, father stay with me, father hold me” but you couldn’t. you couldn’t make a sound. you felt numb, if someone had sliced your hand open with a blade you’d not have noticed. sometimes tears would fall from your eyes straight into the ground and you’d not even noticed you were tearing up. 

that’s the hardest part of being so hard was that when you cracked it shattered more than you noticed. more than you’d be comfortable admitting even to yourself. 

when you mother and brother died your father feared you’d be turn mute for good. 

that’s what intrigued Sandor most. 

you suffered silently. you suffered with expertise. 

once he’d known your heart. your loyalty, devotion, and your fearlessness was when his fascination turned into something deeper. He thought it was obsession and maybe it was, but it was more personal than that too. Poets would call it love. He’d call it nothing. He’d never spoken of it therefore it had no language. It was just what he felt, he knew he cared that was it and that was all he’d admit. 

A day had past since your escape. You both were hungry, he especially. 

You were beginning to enjoy the freedom that came with this new way of life, however. There were downsides. The constant exposure to the elements, the lack of food, hot water, and the lingering fear. Fear of being caught, fear of what was happening now to your cousin, and what Loras would think of you leaving. 

But you had freedom, no more hand maidens pawing at you the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep. You no longer had to endure the torment of the Lannister's. No longer had to marry a man you didn’t love, not really anyway. 

As you rode that day, you stopped to water the horses. As you did, a group of five men were riding down the trail behind you. You looked back at them as you heard the sound of their horses trotting. 

“Don’t look at em’” Sandor grumbled, not looking at you. You looked back to, Lika. 

You pet Lika, trying to distract yourself as you felt a pit in your stomach. A pit of dreadful anxiety. You always felt that same anxiety every time you knew something terrible was coming. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at em’." He grumbled even lower this time as the men came closer. You looked at him and he was looking right back at you. Until his gaze went back to the water Stranger was drinking from. 

It was a large watering hole, so it wasn’t surprising to Sandor when the five men stopped there as well to water their horses. 

As soon as they did, Sandor walked closer towards you, guarding their view of you with his form. 

The group of men were a little rowdy, and they looked over to you and Sandor. 

“Hello there, friends!” A bald man shouted, and your stomach dropped. 

Sandor looked over at the man, show him that permanent scowl on his face.

“I know you, you’re the hound, Joffrey's Dog.” A man with longer hair shouted again.

“How far til Saltpans?” The hound asked ignoring the mans comment. 

“I reckon a day. Maybe another if you’re unlucky.” The bald man said. 

Sandor took the answer and left it at that. Looking away. 

“What’re you doing out there? Far from Kings Landing.” The Stout man said.

“I heard Joffrey's hound ran from the battle of the blackwater.” A tall and dark man said, he seemed angrier than the other men. 

His tone made Lika spook slightly.

“Easy.” You whispered to Lika, stroking her snout. 

“Pretty creature you got there.” the stout man said, you had the feeling he wasn’t talking about Lika, his eyes were on you.

Sandor stepped in front of the mans view of you, “You’ve got food there?” The men had sacks of what looked like food, and a lot of it. “Bring me it.” 

“You got something to trade for it?” The tall man asked

“Not a thing.” The Hound said, it made you want to roll into a ball. He was aggressively confident. 

“Now Dog, we know that ain’t true.” The tall man said tilting his head to get a better look at you. 

“Your cunt friend speaks like that again and I’ll cut out his fucking tongue.” The Hound hissed

“Oh but he’s right the crowns offering a pretty penny for you my friend.” The bald man said.

“And you think you’re the ones to collect it?” The Hound asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Five of us, one of you, and the girl.” The taller man taunted.

“Tell you what, we’ll make a deal with you. It’s been a long journey for the five of us. We don’t want the trouble. We’ll let you go even give ye’ some of our food… for a go at your pretty friend there.” The stout man tried to ‘reason’ with the group.

“Fuck you.” You said with the same ever present venom in your voice. 

The group of men began to laugh at your words, but when the Hound stepped forward with his grip on the tilt of his sword made their laughter falter. 

“Ye have any fuckin’ sense you’ll drop the food and leave.” The Hound spoke coldly.

“You don’t seem to understand the situation.” The tall man spoke. 

“I understand if any more words come pouring out any one of yer cunt mouths, I’m gon’ have to kill each one ye.” He stepped forward once more

“You gonna die for some broken in whore-” The stout man wasn’t able to finish his sentence before The Hound stormed towards them. The men caught off guard were late to draw their swords. 

The first to go was the closest to him, the bald one. Unable to draw his sword in time, the Hound cut him down, nearly in half with one blow. You’d never seen anything like it, no, you had. It was like when Gregor cut his horse in half with one blow. You could stew on that thought long before he moved on to the next man.

The tall one, who at that point was able to draw his sword. Their swords clashed together, the Hound kicked his knees in, making the man drop to the ground. That's when he plunged his sword into his chest. He huffed as he retracted it from the mans body. 

He moved forward to the next man, a man with long hair. He seemed startled by the whole scene unfolding. He threw his sword to the ground and raised his hands up quitting. Sandor rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration, he lowered his sword and punched the man so hard his neck must have snapped. 

As the man hit the ground Sandor approached the stout man who said the final words that broke him. The stout man tried to climb his horse but Sandor pulled him down to the ground. Sandor loomed over him as he began to beat him with his hands.

“Say it again!” he shouted again and again as his fist plummeted into the man’s face again and again. 

You were so entranced by this violent dance unfolding in front of you, you’d hardly realized he’d only killed three men, the fourth was under his fist now, and the fifth was… 

“Sandor!” You shouted as the fifth man jumped onto his back. The man was able to cut the Hounds cheek with his nails, deeper than one would expect. The man tried to strangle him from behind, but Sandor was too tall and too wide for the man to. Sandor got ahold of the man, as he did Sandor managed to snap his neck. 

He turned his attention back to the stout man who was still breathing.  

Sandor took out his knife and stabbed it into the mans heart, wiped the blood on the mans sleeve. 

He approached you, he was covered in blood. Huffing and puffing, he put his blade back in its sheave. He picked you up by your waist and sat you on Lika. 

“Sandor…” You mumbled as you looked down at your clothes that he inadvertently smeared blood on. 

He grumbled something that sounded something like “Sorry”, as he walked back over to the bundles of food still attached to the abandoned horses. As he untied each one, and carried all of them back to your horses, you couldn’t help but admire his strength. One man would struggle to carry just one but he could called all three without struggle.

꒰ ୨୧ ─・┈ ꒱꒱

You had washed your pants, your wool sweater, and Sandor's armor, in the water after the attack. They laid out on a near rock as they dried. You two sat beside one another in front of a warm fire. 

Sandor sloppily shoveled meat and bread into his mouth with his large brutish hands. You watched him, in awe. How he could have killed five men and less than an hour later be eating like a king. 

“Eat.” Sandor said with a mouth full of food. you shook your head, “Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe, ripping a piece of meat off and holding it up to your mouth, “I’m not that imp lord, I won’t let you starve. You can eat it or I'll make you eat it.” You pouted a little, looking from his eyes to the piece of food in his hands. You took his wrist and moved his hand closer to your mouth as you ate in as he wished, from his fingers. 

As you chewed it your face scrunched up, “It’s-” 

“Shit” He said shoveling more into his mouth.

“Hardly worth dying for.” You said as you grabbed some bread, hoping it’d be better than the meat.

“Those cunts didn’t die for the fucking food.” Sandor grumbled, 

You stopped chewing for a moment and looked at him. His words, brutal but in some indecent way romantic. He’d kill five man for simply insulting you.

You watched him eat, in... adoration? Awe? Who knows. You watched him eat, and noticed the cut on his face still bleeding.

“Your face-“ You said reaching out to touch his cut cheek, he grabbed your wrist stopping you, “Stop it.” You rolled your eyes as you commanded and he actually gave in, letting go of your wrist. You ran you hand against his cheek, he looked down, avoiding your eyes. He pushed away his food, “come here.” You spoke softly. Instead of him coming closer he pulled you onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around you.

You used your sleeve to tap the blood away from his cut. Dapping at it trying to stop the bleeding.

“I told you… no one is ever gonna hurt you again.” He whispered, looking into your eyes.

“I don’t want you hurt either.” You said still trying to stop his bleeding,

“Too late for that.” He grumbled.

You leaned in and kissed his lips incredibly gently, running your hands against the sides of his face, letting them run down to his neck.

“I don’t deserve this,” He rasped as your lips parted, 

You kissed his nose, “Too late for that.” You gently rubbed your nose against his own just before you kissed him again.

You kissed him deeper, but softly. His hands ran through your hair. He admired the length of it, the texture of it, the color of it, and the smell of it. 

You moved you leg over his lap. He kept at petting your hair, his hands traveled down to your lower back, the other to your thigh. You knew he was going to push you onto your back. So you stopped him, moving his hands to your hips. “Gentle” You whispered into his mouth. 

You began to rock your hips back and forth against his now stiffening cock. He groaned into your mouth. Your kisses still soft and gentle, but now increasingly sloppy. 

You felt his hands begin to ready himself to flip you on your back again. So once again you stopped him. “A mans meant to fuck his woman.” 

“I’m your lady?” You teased him with a subtle smirk as you kissed his jaw

“Well, youre not anyone else’s that for fuckin' sure.”

You pulled his cock out, grinding your clothed cunt against it, rocking your hips against it making his thighs flex involuntarily. He began to paw at your small clothes. 

“I’ll fucking rip these off you if you don’t take em off.” 

You grabbed him by his jaw with both your hands forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I told you to be gentle.” Your grip softened as his hands wrapped around your back. “Let me be sweet for you.” You whispered into his mouth. 

You moved your small clothes to the side and pushed his cock inside of you, slowly. You were wet, but not wet enough for it to not sting a little. 

You winced a little, “Nphm” You whined a little. 

“Thats what happens when you don’t let me-” You cut him off by kissing him again, 

Once his cock was in you, just barely brushing your cervix, you stopped moving. You just held him while you kissed him. 

He bucked his hips, hitting your cervix in a way that made you arch your back.  

“Don’t move,” You whispered in his ear, licking and nibbling on it lightly.

“The fuck are you doing-” he growled but then let out a small moan from your tongue on his ear.

“Shut up.” You said into his ear in a breathless moan as you felt yourself getting wetter. Fitting him better, molding around his now familiar shape. 

It made him growl under his breathe, gripping onto the plushness of your hips. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, woma-” You cut him off again kissing him deeply, sucking on his tongue. He moaned into your mouth, and he bit your lip. 

You lifted your tunic over your head, tossing it beside you. You still had on the top half of your small clothes. 

Sandor leaned down and began sucking at your breasts through the fabric, his hands caressing them gently. But his grip tightened as you let out a moan and he felt you tighten around his cock. 

He growled into your breasts, the vibration from it made you even wetter, soaking his cock and only making it easier for him to sink in deeper, pushing against your cervix. 

He then discarded his own tunic, “Take that off-” His voice rumbled, so you did. You took off the top half of your small clothes. His mouth returned to your breasts, swearing against your skin, you could feel him pulsing inside you. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to fuck. Not be fucked, but you needed to fuck.

You rolled your hips and it made him bite down on the plush skin of your breast which made you mewl. You stopped after moving just the once, 

“You want more?” You asked petting the hair on his head

“Fuck do you think?” You grabbed him by his jaw and chin, forcing him to look at you. 

“I won’t do it if you don’t ask.” your hand trailed from his chin to his throat, squeezing it a little before dragging your nails down his chest. He bit his lip smirking a little, not letting allowing himself to ask, his pride stopping him. “No? Alright then.” 

“Please..” He said through gritted teeth, 

“What was that?” You teased him,

He grabbed your throat and pulled you to his mouth, “please…” He said again this time biting your lip.

You began to grind yourself on his cock. At this point you were so wet you did it with ease, it was all pleasure. You moaned into his mouth as he kept his grip on your throat. 

“Fuck” He cursed into your neck as he licked and nipped at the skin, “At’s it-  fuck me-” He whispered against your bruising skin. 

“Nmm- Ah! Sandor-” You moaned into his ear as you clawed at his back. 

“Taking me so-” He grunted, gritted his teeth “So fucking good!” He struggled to say without grunting. 

Your legs began to feel weaker, and weaker, shaking. Fucking was a new skill you’d obtained and this part was just as new. You knew you couldn’t keep bouncing yourself on his cock alone. But rather than admit failure, you licked his ear, and moaned into it “Sandor, mmmphm, please, I need you to fuck me,” 

Without hesitation his hands went to your ass, bouncing you on his cock. “Ah!” You moaned again and again, your breasts bounced against his chest, making you only that much wetter. You pressed your cheek against his, constantly moaning directly in his ear. It drove him mad. You could feel yourself coming undone, “I’m cuming!” You whined against his face. He turned his head slightly to kiss your cheek sloppily, 

“Good, do it, cum on my cock, Birdy.” He groaned into your ear. 

You felt your legs spasm, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing down his shoulders tight, digging your nails into his skin. You buried your face in his neck as you reached your peak, you moaned so loud, it could’ve been a scream. 

He took your face from his neck, holding it so you’d look him in the eyes, he brushed the hair from your face, “How’d that feel, Birdy?” Strangely gentle. You kissed his lips sloppily, 

“Keep going,” You panted into his mouth. To which he obeyed, pumping in and out of you with an increasingly erratic pace.

He looked down at your cunt sucking him back in, the thick ring of cream you created around his cock, the way your thighs were shaking, it was beginning to be too much for him.

His hand tangled in your hair, foreheads resting on one another, moaning into each others mouths, the way his hands made you feel safe. 

“Sandor,” You couldn’t stop the words from coming, “I love you.” You moaned breathlessly, you hoped he didn’t hear but he did, it sent him over the edge unexpectedly. 

He melted in you, you felt the heat spreading in your core.

As you laid against his chest, sweating, panting, exhausted, he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, “Love you..” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morning you woke in his arms. You both got dressed, and no real words were spoken.

As you readied Lika, Sandor came up behind you. 

He put a piece of bread in your hands. As you looked at it, he wrapped one hand around your waist and leaned down to smell your hair.

You just smiled to yourself, looking at the piece of bread. 

He patted your behind quickly, “Hurry up, got a long ways to go.” 

Just as you were about to mount Lika, you and Sandor heard the sounds of at least twenty horses galloping closer and closer, and the sounds of men. 

Sandor wasted no time picking you up and putting you on Lika.

“Go, take off that way and don’t stop-” He growled at you 

“I can’t leave you-“ You tried to plea with him, 

“Did it sound like a fucking question? Get the fuck out of here!” He shouted at you,

“No!” You shouted back with the same ferocity as he did. 

“Stubborn bitch.” He said under his breathe, “Take this,” It was his dagger. “That ways North, keep going til I get you or you get to the Starks.” He said,

“Sandor-” You began but he hit Lika and yelled, making her take off with you on her. You couldn’t get her to stop, all you could do was look back and watch as a group of men surrounded the man you loved. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

It was miles til Lika was calmed enough to respond to your commands. By then it was no use. No point in going back, you knew if he needed help you weren’t able to give it. 

Once you found a small creek you decided to stop let Lika drink.

As she drank, you sat there, wondering what to do. 

Who were those men? Where they Lannister men? Raiders? Should you wait for him? He said he’d come, was he trying to give you hope? Unlikely, he wouldn’t be so cruel. As you were contemplating, 

“My Lady Arryn!” It startled you, no one had referred to you as a Lady in so long, much less your house name. 

You turned to see a older but handsome knight, in pretty silver armor. He had a blue cape. And was riding on a large Brown horse. 

“Who are you?” You held out your dagger at him,

“Ser Varys Cole of the Vale, my Lady. I didn’t recognize you in those clothes, but how could any knight forget such a vision once he’s seen it.” 

“Ser Cole? You served my father.”

“Indeed I did, My Lady.” You eyes still watched him like a… well a falcon, “So perhaps given the circumstances, you could lower your weapon?” He said with a smile,

So you did, trying to play the cards in your hand. “Ser Cole, I require your assistance, I need to find Robb Stark.” 

He looked down regretfully, “My Lady, I am afraid I cannot assist you with such a task.” 

“Why not?” You pressed, 

“I am under the order of Lord Baelish to bring you to him directly.” 

“The Vale is under the direct protection and order of the Arryns as it has been for generations, and you take your order from Baelish, not I?”  You asked with furrowed brows and beady eyes,

“I am afraid so my lady.” 

You looked at him with disgust, you walked back towards Lika. “Leave me then, I shall find my own way.” 

“I am afraid I cannot allow that, my Lady.” He said, you looked back at him with a harsh gaze.

“You can, leave me. Just go and I won’t speak a word of it.” 

“My Lady, your father would want me to see you to safety.” 

“You believe safety is with Little Finger?” You questioned him like he were a child. 

“It’s not out here.” He said looking around, you hoped Sandor would ride up and cut him down. “My Lady if you do not come willing I have orders to take you ropes. I’d prefer you untied. So would your father.” It only angered you more that he mentioned your father so much. 

You wanted your dog.

“I will not go to Kings Landing.” You said sternly, gripping on to your dagger. 

“No my lady, I’ve been instructed to take you to the Eyrie.” He said as if it were an improvement. 

You held the dagger in your hand. your thumb brushing the handle of the blade. You contemplated it. You could kill him. maybe. steal his armor, his sword. Travel north until you got to Winterfell. But that’s all to say you could take the armored man in combat, and that no one else along your journey would try to kill you either. 

“How far?” You asked, hoping he’d say two days journey. So you could run at night. 

“Lord Baelish is occupying an Inn near by. He had a feeling you’d be around this area.” He was lucky you got separated from Sandor in that case.

He got off his horse and walked towards you, “You can go on your horse, My Lady. Or you can go in ropes.” 

“Ropes.” You said, you pulled your dagger our and stabbed him in his leg, but he grabbed your wrist before you could remove it. 

He gritted his teeth, “That was not necessary, my Lady.”

He pinned you on your back and tied your hands together. Placed you on your horse, then tied your horse to his own. All the while limping. 

“Forgive me, My Lady.” 

He said as he rode on, you prayed to all the Gods, old and new, for Sandor to be around a tree. For him to come up the rode, for him to kill this man, for him to untie you, and be in his arms again. 

But no.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you arrived at the Inn, Ser Cole carried you off your horse. You wanted to kill him for even touching you. He placed you on the ground and guided you to Little Fingers chambers. 

“What is this? Untie the girl!” Petyr ordered,

“Yes, My Lord.” Ser Cole did as he asked. 

“Leave us,”

“Yes, My Lord.” 

Ser Cole left the room.

You rubbed your wrists and stared daggers at Baelish, you wanted to kill him right then. 

But the knight outside the door would have killed you too, you’d have to wait til you had your dog.

“A sight for weary eyes, my lady. Even in rags.” He said with a twisted grin. 

“Don’t take me back there, to Kings Landing.” You asked, but it sounded more like a command.

“If you wished to escape why wouldn’t you have asked me, you know I would have done anything-” 

“You had ample time to help me and chose not to.” You interrupted him,

“You and Lord Tyrion seemed contented.”

“And you seemed contented to watch.” 

“I know he has been positively bereft in your absence.” You felt your stomach drop. You’d wondered on him, for a moment, but you assumed he’d be fine.

“Lord Tyrion is a decent man,” You said with concern in your voice.

“Then why not marry him?”

“Because I am not a decent woman.” You blurted out with venom,  “I rather you kill me then go back there.” You threatened. 

“I’d never do such a thing,” He ran his finers against the skin of your forearm. Sandor would have cut his fingers off for it, you thought. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I asked your father for your hand, did you know this?”

You swallowed, “I did.” 

“Do you know why I did?” You felt sick, a pit in your stomach, that same pit of dread.

“You want the Vale-”

“I wanted you.” He said as he leaned in and kissed your lips. Your lips did not move and your eyes stayed open. Sandor would have cut his throat for that, you thought. 

As he pulled away you pressed your lips together and looked down. 

“You aren’t taking me to Kings Landing are you?” You whispered. 

“No, no my lady I am not.”

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens, sorry if you had to wait a little for this one. It is a longer chapter so I hope it satisfies you or a lil.  Also I know, I know, the ending is a bit of a bummer, reading angst is never as fun as writing it but distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.  I also gave you sub Sandor so like…. You're actually so welcome. 

Beloved Tags: 

@dontfollowjuststuff

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@merfic

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@the-queen-of-sorrows

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@not-neverland06

#sandor clegane x reader #Sandor clegane #got x princess reader #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #game of thrones x reader #sandor clegane #got x reader #got hc #game of thrones #the hound #got #sandor headcanon #sandor #sandor clegane fanfic #the hound fanfic #sandor fluff #sandor fanfic #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane fluff #sandor fic #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #sandor clegane angst #sandor angst #sandor smut #game of thrones smut #smut

[turtle-paced]

What do you think George’s plans are regarding Sansa and the hound? Theres definitely is romantic undertones to their relationship and sansa seems to have feelings for him (the unkiss) but I personally hope it doesn’t lead to any explicit romance between the two. If it not romance though I dont know the purpose of their relationship

Sansa's first serious experiences with sexual and romantic attraction are important to her coming of age story, whether or not any actual romance happens.

Beyond Sansa's own individual arc, her relationship with Sandor is an intentionally problematic relationship, meant to raise all sorts of questions about power dynamics in the whole knight-and-lady thing. So there's themes here too. Who protects Sansa from her protector?

The series of sketchy and/or unsuitable men who claim to work in her best interests, with results from mixed to downright exploitative, I think are a big part of Sansa learning how to best use her skills to protect herself. As well as when and why to use those skills.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #sansa stark #sandor clegane

[notwhoreallyiam]

Nothing,just rory holding a tiny mic with his huge hands 🥹

( something about him is different idk what maybe he had lip filler or some botox lol just kidding his skin looks so good 😂❤️)

#rory mccann #the hound #sandor clegane #game of thrones #knuckles #knuckles fanart #knuckles series

[azulolivart]

An unequal marriage in Westeros.

#asoif/got #fanart #fan art #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #game of thrones fanart #got #sansa stark #joffrey baratheon #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane #the hound #cersei #cersei lannister #queen cersei #petyr baelish #little finger #varys #asoiaf fanart #sandor x sansa #sansa stark x sandor clegane #sansan #you’ll be glad of the hateful things i do someday when you are queen and i’m all that stands between you and your beloved king

[carlsdraws]

a girl and her dogs

#sansa stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #sandor clegane #the hound #lady the direwolf #my art #while i was reading clash a sansa chapter talked about dogs a lot and i was like !!!!!

[harwin-strong]

House of the Dragon 1.05 | Game of Thrones 2.06

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotdedit #gotedit #iheartgot #sansa stark #rhaenyra targaryen #harwin strong #sandor clegane #sansan #rhaewin #rhaenyra x harwin #sansa x sandor #gotsansastark #sansastarkedit #targnation #fantasyedit #userstream #userbbelcher #chewieblog

[kaellecappuccino]

#asoiaf #catelyn stark #lysa tully #renly baratheon #stannis baratheon #sandor clegane #gregor clegane #arya stark #sansa stark #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #tyrion lannister #jon snow #robb stark #theon greyjoy #asha greyjoy #bran stark #daenerys targaryen #rhaegar targaryen

[knightingale]

The "Sansa reminds Sandor of his sister" motive that some people try to hitch to his character really just flies in the face of his actual attachments to her, doesn't it? Sansa reminds Sandor of himself. He sees the little boy who used to love knights in this girl who's been swept up by the same romanticism. He sees his abuser in her abusers, the much larger knight(s) beating on the helpless child. He sees how she is betrayed by every level of authority that should have saved her and remembers his father's neglect and Tywin and Robert's apathy for Gregor's crimes. He's protective of Sansa because he was Sansa.

And GRRM's design, that one of the strongest warriors in the series, a fearsome and cynical 6'8" guy who's "muscled like a bull" and has the face of death itself, sees himself in this soft and effeminate teen girl, and empathizes with her because he was an abuse victim too, is INFINITELY more compelling than "Oh yeah I bet she just reminds him of his sister," who he's never mentioned and who we know literally nothing about. Way to unnecessarily water down a character, you couldn't have ignored the black and white text more efficiently if you tried.

#sorry for the rant i saw this sentiment in a yt video recently #sansa stark #sandor clegane #sansan #asoiaf #and this is only one facet of why he has so much affection for her too #these people act like his attachment to her is limited to projection and not also bc she treats him like he's an actual human being #or that they can be themselves when they're with each other -that he can openly show his weakness to her and be comforted and validated #or like even just the physical attraction aspect - which is so obvious that you'd have to be willfully ignorant to miss it #how do you read him trying to kiss her and come away thinking “he thinks of her as his sister” lmfao #things that make me feel like people dont actually read the books

[vesubia-jugorum]

Drawing questionable characters is cathartic.

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#asoiaf #sandor clegane #the hound #joffrey baratheon #got #grrm #my art #my stuff

[bibiundtinaundzombies]

appreciation post for the random ass horses with cool names of asoiaf. like, the silver? stranger? smiler? all of those are metal as fuck. dany, theon and sandor just woke up and went „let me give my newly acquired opinionated bicycle the raddest fucking name anyone has ever read on a fei registry“. could never be me. my horse‘s government name is lily.

#sandor clegane #daenerys targaryen #theon greyjoy #smiler the horse #stranger the horse #the silver the horse #asoiaf #asoiaf horses #idk why but i felt the urge to say this #game of thrones

[shutupcrime]

Show Jaime:

“I know I just slept with Brienne who I have a deep attachment to, and I’m about six seasons deep into a redemption arch but Ima peace out and get crushed by rocks with my sister wife”

Book Jaime literally in the middle of reading a letter from Cersei begging him to come and save her:

“I wonder what brienne is doing right now”

#asoif/got #asoiaf #got #game of thrones #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne #cersei lannister #Jon snow #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targeryan #aemond targaryen #grrm #grr martin #a dance of dragons #a storm of swords #Sansa stark #Arya stark #sandor clegane #littlefinger #gwendolyn christie #the sandman #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #rhaenyra targeryan

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

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

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones x reader #games of thrones fanfiction #rorymccann #sandor clegane smut #sandor the hound clegane #prince joffrey #robert baratheon #reader baratheon

[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

—————————————————————————————————

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.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane imagine #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x ps reader #sandor clegane x plus size reader #the hound #the hound x reader #the hound x ps reader #the hound x plus size reader #the hound imagine #got #got x reader #got x ps reader #got x plus size readaer #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x ps reader #game of thrones x plus size reader

[chippedcupwrites]

the universal experience of trying to figure out why the Hound is being so gentle to that one girl

#sansan #sandor clegane #sansa stark #the hound #got #game of thrones #gotedit #gameofthronesedit #rory mccann #gotsansastark #gotsandorclegane #sansastarkedit #sandorcleganeedit #my edits #my sets #my got sets #my sandor sets

[stheresya]

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.” … "The Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. “The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp’s head and flew off.” (Arya XIII, ASOS)

this is funny. sandor hears that tyrion and sansa murdered the actual king together at his own wedding and that sansa then peaced out and left her husband to die and sandor's response to all this is "good for her" lol. we know that things didn't happen as described here but i just love that sandor is a supporter of sansa's rights and wrongs.

#the little bird is wanted for regicide? that's so cool! hope she keeps getting away with it <3 #sandor clegane #sansa stark #a storm of swords #sansan #asoiaf

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound." 

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child?  "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure. 

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

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